Lucy slid under her big brother's arm and instinctively Peter pulled her close to him. The corridor to Waylon and his wife's chambers was as silent as a tomb and all merriment of the evening had wilted like the orchid still attached to Lucy's hair. The only sound in the hall was that of Waylon's worried pacing.
Susan sat rather unladylike against the wall with her head leaned back to rest against the stone and Edmund stood sullenly on the opposite side of the wall. He silently rued his held tongue, thinking that had enduring several evenings out of his reign being mobbed by noblewomen would have been a better fate than the one that his silence dolled out to Dores. Waylon and his wife had a closer bond with Susan than the other three yet, that still not dampen the fact that one of Narnia's own was wounded- and possibly dieing- because of a malevolent spirit. The grandness and the revelry of the ball could still be heard in the great hall, though it was clear that the assembly was sombered a great deal by the accident.
In the relative silence, the High King's scratching at his tunic sounded much like an army charging and Susan cast him a withering gaze. "If your tunic vexes you so, return to your chambers and change it." She reprimanded.
"And if my scratching vexes you so…" Peter began, the seriousness of the situation weighed heavily against his nerves and he had no tolerance for Susan's nagging. He was cut off by the faun surgeon stepped out of the room. Instantly, the monarchs and Waylon stood in attention, the question on their minds lingered in the air.
The faun, by name of Cyriacus, was a skilled in medicine and healing. He administered to each of the four in either sickness or injury before and it was common knowledge that there was hardly any in Narnia who could match Cyriacus. "The lady lives." He announced as Waylon made a move to enter the chambers. The faun's extended hand stayed him. "I can not say the same about the child, Master Waylon."
The courtier made a strangled noise of grief and kicked the stone walls. His eyes were shut tight as if to think that if he did not see the good doctor, the reality that his first child was dead before its own birth would be a falsehood. Lucy left the High King's side and placed a hesitant hand on Waylon's back. Her touch was just as comforting as her presence and she could feel her friend's muscles lax. "Will my wife recover, Cyriacus?" Waylon wondered quietly.
The surgeon gave his kings and queens a hesitant look and his silence answered Waylon's question. "Perhaps I can help, Cyriacus?" Lucy wondered as her thoughts strayed to where she kept the cordial Father Christmas had given her half a decade ago.
"I would refrain from that until absolutely needed, your Grace." The faun reassured the five with a bow. His tone was meant to comfort, but it belied the actuality that the cordial might be needed quite soon. At length he ushered Waylon to the threshold. "She does wish to see you."
Cyriacus shut the door to offer the grieving couple privacy and then turned to his kings and queens. "I did not want to speak so frankly in front of Lord Waylon, your Majesties. I fear that he will be a broken man soon."
"Then, please, speak frankly now. He is out of the hall." Susan reasoned. Her voice sounded strained and ragged to her. She had always taken her strength from the idea that she had situations well in hand. But there were some things that her logic could not keep in control and unfortunately, this was one of those times.
The faun mopped his brow and heaved a sigh. Even when they were newly crowned, Cyriacus held no fallacies in the presence of his monarchs. He knew the Magnificent, Just, Gentle and Valiant need not hear a honey coated diagnosis. "Queen Lucy, you might want to retrieve your cordial sooner than later. Lady Dores' tumble not only cost her the life of her child but I fear that she may have suffered internal injuries and those, unfortunately, are wounds I am powerless to bind."
"I will retrieve it the very moment you ask." Lucy reassured and the old faun bowed gratefully.
"My thanks your Highness. If I may, I fancy a glass of spiced wine before the storm rages on."
Peter nodded his consent. Cyriacus was an exceptional doctor but the emotional tolls of his job were great and try as he may, he could not be apathetic towards his patients or their kin. Indeed, a glass of spiced wine or even port would do the good doctor well. "Let it be so, then my friend. We shall remain here incase anything should happen in your brief absence."
The faun bowed before turning and making his way back down to the party but Edmund's voice stayed him. "Cyriacus, if you can, gather the Council of Five." The other three gave Edmund curious looks, wondering why the Just had requested an audience with their five most trusted advisors but his face was void of explanation. The faun bowed once more and with a somber 'aye, milord', he turned on his cloven hoof and left.
"Edmund," Lucy began, despite sounding a little confused, she spoke for all of them, "why did you call the Council?"
In response, the Just held up a finger to signal them to wait a moment and led them into another sitting room. Silently, Peter made notice of the vast number of sitting rooms Susan had placed in the castle and decided to ask her later when situation and time permitted on the actual purpose of so many sitting rooms.
"Ed, don't beat around the bush," Susan half-chastised, half-reminded in a stern tone. She plopped herself on a backless wooden chair and crossed her legs impatiently. Lucy stood near Peter, seeking the reassurance and safety the presence of her eldest brother gave off. Neither of the four could put words to the fear they felt and in itself, the inability to verbalize such things only added to the feelings.
"I think we should acquit this castle." Edmund explained. "To be frank, if it wasn't for duty, I would be on the fastest charger and halfway to the Cair by now. But the fact remains that our actions are not only linked to us but the whole of Narnia as well."
"So you seek a second opinion?" Lucy wondered quietly. Edmund had taken the very words out of her mouth. She did want to flee. Away from the specters, to a place where the furniture did not move by itself and mutilated foxes didn't chase her in search of their kits.
"Second opinion or not," Susan frowned, "If we do leave, half of the country's annual budget would have been spent with out the possibility of getting it back. We would have squandered the very bread of our people. A rescission might occur. And if we try to remedy that by raising the price of exports or the tariff on imports, we will loose trade with other countries."
"Calmorene is stingy enough to do that, but surely not the Seven Isles or Terebinthia would." Lucy spoke up, not wanting to Susan to rationalize away any hope of escape after winter.
Peter shook his head in thought and affectionately gave a sedate tug on his baby sister's hair. He was with Edmund and Lucy. In sooth, he wouldn't have waited to saddle up before he left. Yet, he had to admit it, Susan had a point. As much as he hated to agree with her on the matter, he had no choice. "Stingy or not, Lu, Calmorene, the Isles and Terebinthia have to support their people too."
"And what of ours?" Edmund interjected, trying his best to keep his temper as he took a seat. He had been taught that if his temper was lost, so was his side of the argument. However it took every fiber in his being to not loose his temper. "Need I remind you that a Narnian is dead and another might soon be? The spirit is obviously not going to be happy living side by side with us. I was right near Dores when she was pushed-"
From the doorway, Oreius interrupted his monarch. "You summoned us, my Lieges?" A muscle on the centaur's flank twitched, indicating uncertainty in the small movement. Peter dutifully invited the council of five in. And the council complied with Indrani shutting the wooden door to allot privacy.
Oreius took his place by the window to allow the best view of all four of his monarchs' faces so he could know what they would not verbally speak. He had a vague idea of why the council was summoned. He could not shake the idea that it pertained to what had happened to Dores and Lucy's hallucination. What the correlation was between the two was, Oreius could scarcely guess. It was possible that the persistent young queen finally convinced her siblings to see it her way.
"What news of Lady Dores, your Majesties?" Indrani queried from her post by the doorway. The grim looks on the four had her concerned and eager to see what weighed on their minds.
"The child is dead and Dores will likely not live to see the dawn." Peter explained in a tone that silently added 'But that's not why you were summoned'. He began pacing the length of the room, a habit he had fallen into when he was silently weighing all his options. Lucy instinctively moved closer to Mr. Tumnus, finding a substitute comfort in the faun's presence.
Silence fell over the nine, leaving Oreius, Indrani, Mr. Beaver, the Elderly Gentleman, and Mr. Tumnus to eagerly await their High King to continue.
At length, the lady faun shook her head. "'Tis a pity, yet I would not expect a lesser diagnosis from such a trip."
"Dores did not trip." Edmund said, slightly more agitated than he wanted to sound. He sat up in his seat, to emphasize his point. "She was pushed."
Indrani frowned and cast Oreius a look of concern and doubt mixed together as Edmund explained further. "I heard a voice speak to me and when I turned around to see if you heard it as well, Indrani, I heard the impact of someone's hands hitting Dores and then she fell before I could grab her."
"Yet, there had to have been some one to have made the contact." The Elderly Gentleman reasoned with a casual lick of his paw. Although the occasion called for finery, the old cat of supposedly barn cat and leopard origin, still looked rather raggedy. His long ginger and smokey gray fur was void of nettles and dust. And a dark blue leather collar had been placed around his neck for decoration but for all his effort to look put together, his long fur could not be untangled. The four had decided years ago that the head of the guard was in a perpetual state of 'raggediness' and if E.G. (as they affectionately dubbed him to save breath) would have had well groomed fur, he would not be the hardened advisor they grew so fond of. "And as you said in the immediate aftermath, King Edmund, Indrani was no where near and you stood several steps above Dores."
Silence enveloped the nine once again as the old cat's explanation sunk into their minds like lead into the sea. Susan shifted her weight in her seat, nonverbally announcing her apprehensions about the conversation and Lucy inched closer to Mr. Tumnus. The High King never ceased in his worried pacing and the Just appeared to be conflicted with guilt the Council could not name. It had been obvious that the four did not summon the council to give an update on Waylon's wife nor to just sit there in private reflection. Beaver pinned his ears back in impatience. "With all do respect," he began, his thick accent making him sound falsely irked, "You summoned us to council but how can we when we don't know what is the matter?"
"This castle is haunted!" Lucy blurted desperately, throwing her hands out towards Mr. Beaver as if to get the full extent of her point across. Peter's exodus around the room halted, Susan sat up a little straighter and Edmund cast Lucy a look as if to say that she might as well have put her foot in her mouth. The council made individual movements in understanding; so that was what was hounding them so. "We all have experienced something." Lucy continued in the same desperate tone. She looked as if she were about to weep and it was obvious how heavily the so called "haunting" was weighing on her.
At length, she elaborated on the claim, not leaving any detail out. With every word, her story seemed to get wilder and harder to believe. Ghosts simply did not inhabit such places as this. No, they were more suited to the deep wood where the ancients had placed their dead or even in Calmorene where the entire matter would have been viewed quite fashionable. But the idea of the previous owner of the castle- Madame, as the four were calling her-was more likely the product of the swamp fumes or fatigue than an actual ghost.
When Lucy finished filling the council in with her out burst, it was the five's turn to sit in silence. Could what their Kings and Queens say have a grain of truth? Or were their experiences products of indigestion, fatigue or even the marsh air? Their emotions were genuine, Tumnus silently reasoned. That was much certain. In the silence, Tumnus' Kings and Queens looked their ages for the first time in their reign. Instead of shining generals, diplomats and leaders, they looked more like four terrified children seeking comfort.
The Elderly Gentleman was the first to speak his mind, "I don't claim to know much about what goes on in others' heads, yet my Chielo mentioned to me once that the mind will play tricks when one doesn't sleep."
Susan's arms fell to her lap with a loud thump as she regarded the old cat as if she never saw him before. "Are you suggesting that we are not in our right minds, Master Cat?" she questioned icily.
Indrani stepped closer to her monarchs, as if her presence could placate them all at once. "Nobody is implying that, your Grace." She reassured the Gentle. "Is that no so, E.G.?" The faun cast the Elderly Gentleman a look that demanded he agree with her regardless. "Most things look better after a night's sleep." She finished, pushing the stubborn lock of her gray frizzy curls away from her face.
"We hope your Majesties are not ailing." Tumnus spoke up with a nervous twitch. "Neither of your Majesties have been yourselves as of late."
Mr. Beaver nodded and added passionately, "He's bloomin' right, you know. And the stress of new surroundings and Lady Dores' accident don't help neither."
Lucy crossed her arms in a slight move of frustration. Once again, they offered no comfort to the situation; they only offered frustration and doubt. She cast Peter a look from across the room as Indrani suggested they get rest and then address the situation later. The High King caught his youngest sibling's eyes and offered her a half smile as he raked his hand across the chest of his tunic.
The Just sighed, thinking about the thousands of ways the conversation could have gone better. If their closest advisors did not even believe their claims, then any promise of comfort or relief was gone. How could they flee from a threat that their subjects were oblivious to? He hollowly reassured his tutor and the other council members that they would sleep on the situation and with an attempt to hide the mixture of disappointment, regret, fear and profound isolation he felt, dismissed the council to the disbanding ball.
"By the Lion, Peter!" Susan snapped irritably once they were alone, throwing her bangled hands in the air. "Take the tunic off if it's irritating your skin so!"
The High King glared harshly at Susan for a moment, looking as if he were about to suggest where his sister could go. He honestly had more pressing matters to attend to than his younger sister's anal retentiveness. However, he knew that the longer he ignored her nitpicking, the less peace he would have. So with a grumble about her being anal, he took off the tunic that had plagued him all night, hoping that would be the last he would hear about it. "Did I miss how summoning the council would help, Ed?" He grumped to Edmund, turning to look out the widow.
"It was counter productive." The Valiant admitted quietly as she walked to Peter and commenced playing with the fringe of the curtains. "We're no better off from when we started."
"Worse off, I should say." Susan interjected from her seat with a sidelong glare at her kid brother. "The only purpose this meeting served was to assure us that, yes; we are not in our right minds. Very clever Edmund."
"I don't see you offering any solutions, sister." The young king shot back angrily stepping forward in a silent challenge.
"Actually, I did offer the solution of simply living like normal with the disturbances, but you three have this notion that it is evil incarnate and insist that we flee for our lives!" she shot back, crossing her arms in a snit.
"It is evil incarnate, Susan! I tried to caution- how you became blinded to it, I have haven't the slightest clue but your friend dieing in the next room should offer proof enough of Madame's malevolence even for your pigheadedness."
Her eyes grew wide at Edmund's accusations and her mouth formed a tight line that promised a verbal lashing. She stood up and raised herself to her fullest height in an attempt to match her younger brother. But before she opened her mouth, the High King turned from his silent thoughts and demanded in an authoritative voice, "Hold!" He opened his mouth to continue, but Lucy gave a gasp next to him.
"What by the Lion happened to your chest, Peter?" Lucy squeaked in concern, her fingertips hovering over three angry-looking welts spanning across the High King's chest. The row between the middle Pevensies was momentarily forgotten as Susan stepped forward to examine the welts.
"Did you do this?" she inquired of the High King who gave an indignant snort in response.
"Aye, Susan, I figured that matters weren't stressful enough so I gouged these marks in with a fork when you weren't paying attention." He returned sarcastically, fighting the urge to cross his arms.
"These aren't scratch marks." The Valiant summed up, gingerly toughing the welts with her handkerchief and receiving a sharp intake of breath on her eldest brother's account.
"Then what the devil are they from?" Susan mused, the stubborn resolve in her voice fading into her trademark softness.
Peter shifted his weight, indicating that his sisters were a crowding him. "Burns like the fires of hell, though." He admitted and caught the Gentle's wide eyed concerned face.
"I have never seen such a wound dealt from any being, man or beast." Lucy concluded quietly. " This is obvious that whatever cause these gouges is not of this world. Shall I send for Cyriacus?" she wondered, making her way to the door before she even received her answer.
"Why bother? We already discovered that the court will not accept our explanation of the haunting. How else will we explain the welts?" Edmund spoke up evenly from the spot he had rooted himself in. "How will we explain any of the disturbances after this with out them thinking that we're not ourselves?"
Peter frowned at his brother as he picked up his vexing tunic, "So we keep this-" he paused and motioned to the marks on his bare chest, "and anything else that occurs silent? Seems counter productive."
"And what happens if we tell everything the ghost does to us? Our subjects will think we're ailing and incapable of leading. We won't get a moment to breathe to ourselves they'll hound us so. No, for our sakes, we'll keep quiet about these matters until the court comes to believe it themselves." Edmund reasoned with a sigh that sounded more defeated than he intended. "There is no golden solution that I can find in this situation. If we speak out, our wellbeing and possibly our sanity will be questioned. But the Lion knows what price our silence will bring."
"I'm sure that things will turn in our favor if others take notice of the ghost, though." Lucy reassured, striding to the High King's side once more and briefly looking out into the courtyard while Susan fussed over the welts on Peter. Her words gave no comfort to her, though. Even if others did take notice of the ghost, it was unlikely that they would step forward. The notion of the dead walking among them could seem quite absurd.
In the dimly lit courtyard, she saw some of her subjects trickle out of the great hall. Adults looked concerned from the accident as fathers toted their tuckered out young. Some whispered, their heads bent in conference, over the night's pleasant and not-so-pleasant events. A white tipped red tail caught her eyes as the fox apparition she had seen the first day they had come to the place. As if knowing her thoughts, it turned to the window the Valiant looked from. The young queen was sure her very blood paused on its journey through out her body as the specter dipped its head in a sarcastic bow. A centaur walked through the fox, oblivious to the animal in its wake and Lucy gave a small gasp before quickly shutting the curtains.
"And when will they take notice, Lucy?" Edmund asked shaking his head.
"Let's not look on this so negatively." Susan spoke up, turning to address her younger siblings. She stood to her fullest height and jutted out her chin in an attempt to appear just as steadfast as their subjects noted her to be. "We can endure until the seasons change and we return to Cair Paravel." Doubt was laced in with the Gentle's voice as she spoke.
"It is fortunate that we're in this together, though and we know we are not fabricating falsehoods." Lucy reassured the other three as she determinedly grabbed the High King's left arm. Pointedly she told him that the welts-regardless of origin-needed to be cleaned and taken care of. The thirteen year old queen's gesture indicated that the conversation and the conference was over. Within their five year reign, the Pevensies had mastered the nonverbal dismissal technique and utilized it habitually. Susan muttered about checking up on Dores and followed her eldest brother and only sister out the door.
Only Edmund remained, with his guilt for not judging the "séance situation" better. The art of discerning morality and law from depravity and chaos had been a long studied passion of his. Always feeling the weight of his crown, King Edmund had known from before the battle of Beruna how his actions affected the lives of those who surrounded him. He knew it better than the back of his very hand how one faulty decision could stain his hands with the blood of Narnians.
Frowning at his predicament, the Just picked up a small decorative Calmorene box of gleaming bronze. 'I might have as well pushed that woman from the top of the stairs.' He thought bitterly to himself as he fiddled with the trinket one of his sisters had acquired at some arbitrary point in time. 'How could I have been blackmailed into silence when I knew no good would have come of communing with this thing in this castle?' The fall was certainly no accident and in his heart, the young king knew that it was all because Dores had led his sister to provoke what ever was within the battlements. He prayed that Su's folly would not bring her the same fate as Waylon's lady despite the fact that his anger towards her was as heated as white flame.
The blood that had been spilt that night might as well have been on his own hands. How could he have allowed Susan to sway his resolve and sense of morality all because she utilized his hatred of dancing? With a scowl, the Just tossed the small bronze box across the room, angered at how the night's events had gone completely awry. The entire scheme to avoid dancing had cost the life of an unborn child, the suffering of a mother and the emotional ruin of a father. And the attempt to get support from the four's most trusted advisors had, no doubt, led to the monarchs' backs up against a wall.
"If you have the fortitude to do so," Edmund snarled to the empty sitting room as he addressed Madame, "pick on somebody who is a decent opponent. Cease from terrorizing pregnant women and girls and attempt to intimidate me, if you dare!" From across the room, a wind as cold as the grip of death extinguished the fire place and candelabra meant to light the room, despite the lack of open windows, and plunged Edmund into darkness. Icy fear swept up the young king's spine and he had instantly wished he had not been so rash to have opened his mouth. He could not help but take that as Madame's way of accepting his challenge.
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A/n: sorry updating took so long. Writer's block hounded me until I realized that the first scene in and of itself was a suitable chapter. Not much happened here in the scare department, but things needed to be explained. Thanks for being so patient and thanks to all my reviewers and readers. I apologize if there is some grammar issues. My beta reader decided she needed sleep and is quite cranky if�she is disturbed.