Chapter 25, In the Counting House
In which a great conspiracy is unmasked and true love is declared amidst tree bark, feathers, and animal hair.
In honour of Two Hearts Day, celebrated as only the Hound and the Crow could manage.
General Laws of Narnia No. 10-03
(1) A presumption that two individuals are a bonded Pair arises if all of the following are true:
(a) The Pair deliberately cohabitates for three consecutive seasons, as that term is defined in section 3 below.
(b) The Pair exhibits displays of courting behavior appropriate to kind, age, and environment.
(c) The Pair displays one or more qualities of being bonded, including, but not limited to, monogamy, defence of the partner or the Pair from the attentions or aggressions of another, building or otherwise establishing abode, sharing abode, joint food acquisition, sharing food, mating, conceiving offspring, raising offspring.
…
(2)For any Pair meeting the definition in paragraph (1), the following shall apply:
(a) The Pair is entitled to peaceful cohabitation which no other individual may deliberately disrupt with the intent of causing strife to or separating the Pair;
(b) Any offspring born of the female of the Pair is entitled the succor and support of the Pair for the duration of the offspring's minority. Failure to provide such support to minor offspring by the Pair, or either member of the Pair, is subject to remedial action by the Crown of Narnia as set forth in section 4 below.
(c) The Pair may be dissolved by mutual agreement at any time. Should one member of the Pair object to the dissolution, or there are minor offspring, appeal may be made by any party to the Crown for mediation.
…
ooOOoo
Edmund barely managed a stammering courtesy to Constance and Alan before Jalur herded him out of the Library.
"You knew this!" Edmund accused.
"Of course," the Tiger replied with an impatient-sounding snarl.
"Why did you say nothing?!"
"Because you might then terminate the courtship, obviously," Jalur said.
"Jalur, this is outrageous. One cannot become bonded without intending it!"
Even as he said it, Edmund thought he was probably wrong about that. The Three Year Bonded Presumption Law applied to any couple together for three courtship seasons. A pair-bond was inferred from the decision to court, mate, and cohabitate for a season. From that time together, a presumption flowed and, with it, certain protections under Narnian law. It could be refuted, it could be dissolved, but it was there to protect the bond, the parties, and any offspring resulting from it, typically from interference and interlopers. One of the first, and few, times they had relied upon the law was to remove Jezebel from her harassment of the Beavers – ironically, a task Morgan had first undertaken with Lucy.
Oh Aslan, what had they done? Had it really been that long? How had the Narnians known when he had not?
Edmund looked around. He had blindly followed Jalur out of the Palace and now they were standing on the front steps. "Where are we going?"
"The Murder. There is something you need to see."
"I need to find Morgan. She is with Mrs. Furner…"
Jalur snarled again. "No. First, you will come with me, Sire."
He really needed to talk to Morgan but by even the standards of his pushy Guard, Jalur was being exceptionally forceful, and even more irritable.
"Jalur, Morgan is part of this. I need to…"
"No," Jalur repeated and gave him a shove down the steps so hard, Edmund nearly went to his knees. "You must go to the Murder first and then you will want to speak to Banker Morgan thereafter." Almost cajoling, Jalur added, "Trust your Guard in this, my King. I know of what I speak."
Jalur's behavior was so extraordinary, Edmund could not ignore it. And he had used, my King, not the dreaded Sire, which meant Jalur really, truly wanted this. Fine. Impatient as he was, Monarch could humour his Guard for the moment.
Had it really been three seasons? How did one define three consecutive seasons? Law 10-03 specifically referred to seasons, not years, to reflect the fact that some Beasts and Birds did court and mate more than once a year. Edmund was counting on his fingers as they wound their way around the lawns the Goats and Sheep kept clipped. He was finding the days and seasons all ran together, defined mostly by the good and pleasant times when he and Morgan had been together, and the less pleasant times when they had not.
It was unnaturally quiet. Usually, the paths to the Murder were active and noisy as the Crows and Ravens cawed and cackled, talked and gossiped. The black Birds were following them silently, flitting from perch to perch. The chill in how they had been treating him the last few months was more noticeable now that he was in their home and roosts. The disapproval was unmistakable.
Sallowpad flew up and landed on a branch as they entered the yard of the Murder. "What's this about, Jalur?"
The Crows and Ravens settled around them in the trees and on the roofs of the sheds.
"It is time for the King to see the Counting House," Jalur said.
A flutter of excitement moved through the Crows who were all listening attentively.
Sallowpad cocked his head to the side and Edmund felt the uncomfortable and critical scrutiny of one whom he counted a respected friend. Morgan's return had helped but, for all their mercurial ways, Crows and Ravens were loyal and slights and grievances endured were not easily forgotten. Having Sallowpad's good opinion mattered and Edmund knew he and Morgan had both lost a measure of it.
"So you think, Jalur? Finally?"
"Yes," Jalur answered decisively. "It is time to end this, one way or another."
"End what?" Edmund asked, his patience finally wearing out. "What is the Counting House and what does this have to do with me and Morgan?"
The irritable snapping of Crow beaks around him sounded very ominous. Sallowpad fluffed his feathers crossly. "Follow me."
Sallowpad flew ahead and into the open window of a rough shed situated just beyond the roosts of the Murder. Other Crows followed, and arrayed themselves on the bark roof. The shed had been here for years. When he had asked of it, the Crows had said that it was another sheltering roost for their private use.
Jalur pushed open the swinging door and Edmund ducked inside the Counting House.
ooOOoo
After so much time with Sopes and Summer, Morgan was qualified to opine on the subject of being managed. Though Mrs. Furner was a Red Dwarfess, she had many characteristics in common with a managing Shepherd. Morgan was truly touched that Mrs. Furner had Narnian clothes for her and accepted the sensible, generous management with genuine cheer and in the spirit it was offered.
"You can't keep wearing rags, Banker Morgan, no matter how attached to them you are," Mrs. Furner said as she helped Morgan fasten the ties on a pretty linen top with embroidered lavender flowers and Linch greenery that fit perfectly. "Trousers and shirts are fine for this afternoon's work, when you'll be about with the Hounds, Rats, and Crows. But when the Queens return to their rooms to dress for dinner, we'll go through the gowns and decide what's best. You will want to match, or at least not clash."
Bankers never worried about matching. A Linch always matched another Linch because you always wore green. There was something else at work here, too, how Mrs. Furner was automatically slotting her with the Four, and was conscious of having her reflect well upon the House of Narnia before their guests. If Morgan had talked so, she would have felt very presumptuous. With Mrs. Furner directing the arrangements, she dare not disagree, and found she didn't want to. Mrs. Furner was very deliberately including her with the us and the we.
"I know you and Queen Lucy both like going Narnian, but you can be comfortable and not look like a milk Cow. All due respect, they're supposed to look that way and you aren't."
Mrs. Furner did know how to properly lace up a corset – this one was short, clever and worked well with her drawstring trousers and under her shirt. The effect was very nice (if Morgan did say so herself), it didn't get in the way, and all without any pinching or squeezing.
Her travel trunk had been delivered to the smallest room of the guest wing so it appeared the Narnians were all assuming she would be sharing Harold's room again? It had certainly seemed that way? They did have two volumes of Language of Love to work through. Harold was interested in her in and out of the corset, and it would be a shame to not take full advantage of the one she was wearing. Maybe it would be alright.
But then she'd thought it would be alright the last time.
As they were unpacking her travel trunk, Mrs. Furner nodded toward the clothes press, "The things that you left behind are all here, Banker Morgan."
On the top of the clothes press, neatly set out on a square of linen, were her bits and bobs – hair ties, a comb, bookmarks, quills, a stocking, washed and neatly folded, a green bow Jezebel had made for her.
Like the handkerchief Rafiqa had given her, they had all been lovingly kept for her hoped for return. Her hand paused over a large, pearly white scallop shell. It was a Narnian jewelry box where she had kept her earrings and Banker's pins. Morgan lifted the top off, knowing what was surely there.
"I found it in your room when you left," Mrs. Furner said.
With a fingertip, Morgan traced the gold lion pin Harold had given her. It was beautiful. Harold had even added a Linch tree to it. Lion and Tree together.
What comes to this world can leave the same way. All come to my door in the end and some sooner than others.
Aslan had taken Jina to his door. Would he take Harold, too? Might Aslan take all of the Four, at once, leaving the same way they came? If so, what did that mean for the Narnians?
Aslan had told her she would always have a place in Narnia. She had thought the infuriatingly vague feline had been implying that someday she would need that support.
Consideration in a binding agreement ran both ways.
Her hands moved from the heavy golden pin to the satin green bow lovingly tied by a Beaver.
Narnia needs me, too.
"Your…" Morgan stuttered, stopped, and even she knew that what she wanted to know was terribly personal. "Your bondmate? He…"
"Disappeared," Mrs. Furner said, sounding very brisk as she shook out one of Morgan's Banker's robes. "It happened a lot in those days, before the Four."
"Do you think it could happen again?" Morgan finally was able to speak the fear aloud.
"What? The Witch? No!" Mrs. Furner replied. "Aslan killed her. I saw it with my own eyes."
"I mean the Four. Do you think they could ever just disappear the same way they came?"
Mrs. Furner carefully hung the robe in the wardrobe and shut the door – in the larger rooms, the closets were vented to the outside to keep clothes fresh.
"I do," she finally replied. Brusqueness replaced the melancholy and Mrs. Furner put both hands on her hips. "And before you say another word, that makes it different from the risk of dying not at all. I learned that from those dark years in the Long Winter. Any one of us could die at any moment, like Jina and so many others before her." She shook her finger. "The best you can do about tomorrow is live for today. Take what's yours, and don't let go. Keep it close."
"Because it might not be there tomorrow."
"Yes." Mrs. Furner came and stood beside her. Mrs. Furner always seemed tall until she was standing right next to you.
"I was angry at Aslan a long time for taking my Kent from me. When I saw that you'd left that gold pin behind, I understood. All of us do, you know; we've all lost someone we've loved."
"I was angry, too," Morgan admitted. "I still am. It's not really helping, though."
"It can help, for a little while. But no, it doesn't really make you feel better."
As vexing as it was, Aslan had seen more clearly than she had. She loved Harold, but whether Harold was there or not, she loved Narnia and its peoples, too. Linch loyalty, once given, was as binding as the strictest covenant.
Morgan picked up the golden lion. "Would you please pin it on my sleeve, Mrs. F?"
She would wear the lion, not for Aslan's sake, but for the sake of those she loved and their country.
Rafiqa couldn't contain her excitement in the hallway where she had been guarding and, obviously, listening to every word. The Hound bounded into the guest room. "You look very well, Morgan! I am so glad to see you wear Aslan's pin again!" Her wagging tail cleared off a chair with one sweep so there was a muddle as they picked up the flung belongings.
"Morgan, Lambert has asked that you join Queen Susan in the Council Room with Pierce and Maeve," Rafiqa said, now more subdued. "King Edmund has left the Palace but they hope you can come."
"To meet Seth, I'm sure. I told Maeve I would be there." Mrs. Furner let her go after exhorting promises to return before dinner to dress and a "Banker Morgan, please don't put anything smelly or sharp and pointy in your pockets the very first day!"
As they hurried to the Council Room, Rafiqa was able to quickly fill her in on Seth's stay at Cair Paravel as the Hounds had been part of the guard rotation. His reported good behavior made Morgan very suspicious.
There wasn't a guard posted outside the room. "They are all within," Rafiqa whispered to her. "Seth is not there yet."
"You are doing very well, Rafiqa, thank you," Morgan whispered back, and Rafiqa wagged her tail. Morgan pushed open the great wooden door and gestured for the Hound to precede her into the Council Room.
Pierce and Maeve were standing together, very close. All this time and she still had to tamp down her initial visceral reaction to seeing them together. Maeve Stanleh? Really? Family?
They both were looking around the Council Room with open curiosity. It was smaller than the Counting House of Narrowhaven, and by Banker standards of decoration, it was a very plain space for so important a room. Morgan was irked at their implicit criticism. Didn't they see that like so much else of Narnia, the beauty was in the elegant simplicity of the design and the perfection of its proportions?
"Thank you for coming, Banker Morgan," Queen Susan said.
"Of course. I am glad to be here." She nodded politely to Lambert. "It's good to see you again," she told the Wolf.
"And you as well, Banker Morgan." The Wolf's eyes took in the lion pin on her sleeve; his ears perked up and then Lambert mastered himself and was as impassive as ever.
"Before I escort Seth here, there are some matters you should know of," Queen Susan said.
Maeve reached out and grasped the Queen's arm –Morgan did not think that Lambert would like that, but the Wolf had such superb control, he did no more than shift his weight forward. He knew Maeve wasn't a threat to his Queen.
"Seth's not injured, is he? Or chains?" Maeve demanded. "Morgan said he wasn't harmed when she saw him, but I just couldn't bear to see him if he had been tortured."
"Morgan is correct," Queen Susan said soothingly. "We hope for reform and physical punishment is counter to that goal. That is not to say that this is painless for true change is very hard." She stroked Maeve's arm, trying to be comforting. "But you shall see for yourself shortly."
Queen Susan walked Maeve to a Human-sized chair at the end of the large council table that dominated the room. Pierce followed and held the chair out for Maeve to sit in.
"When Seth comes, you will see he is physically changed," Queen Susan told her. "He wanted to wear a Banker's robe to see you, but he is much fitter, so what he had brought was too large for him. He was given Narnian clothing but he is unhappy with its quality."
Rafiqa had told her that Seth had also had not wanted to look like one of those "hairy horned things," so Mr. Hoberry had kindly shaved him and cut his hair.
"Morgan said he looked better?" Maeve asked hopefully. She rubbed her hands nervously on the table. Pierce was hovering at her side and seemed more angry than anxious.
"By Narnian standards, yes," Queen Susan said.
From Maeve's glance, Morgan knew Maeve was assessing, and judging, her own Narnian garb. Again irritated at the subtle disapproval, Morgan added, "He may not like it, but it will be well-made, comfortable, and appropriate for the season."
"Apart from his altered appearance, you will also see that Seth is never without a guard," Queen Susan said. "When he comes, Morgan and I will sit there, at the end of the table." She pointed. "You will be able to speak to Seth without us listening. However, the Guards will be observing and listening. You will not have complete privacy."
Pierce stared skeptically at Queen Susan, and then looked at Lambert and Rafiqa. "Will Maeve be safe?"
"Yes," Lambert replied in that tone that brooked no argument. Morgan wondered if Rafiqa could learn the Wolf's grave demeanor.
"Seth poses no physical threat to anyone, except himself," Queen Susan added. "He very much wants to see you, and I believe this will help with his rehabilitation. I caution you, though, that he is still bitter and can hurt you with words."
"I understand," Maeve replied, nodding a little. "Can I see him now? Please?"
Morgan thought Maeve's demand sounded rude. But maybe because Maeve spoke so plaintively, Lambert didn't object to that, either, and Queen Susan was being very understanding.
"Of course, Maeve. Lambert and I shall go and bring Seth here with his guards. We will be back shortly." They swept out of the room.
"The Queen and Morgan might be out of earshot, but I'm staying with you," Pierce announced stubbornly and positioned himself at Maeve's chair.
Maeve reached her hand out and clasped Pierce's own. Morgan was very proud of the fact that she didn't roll her eyes at them.
"But I'd feel better if there was someone here with arms and a weapon when he arrives," Pierce added.
"A Wolf and a Leopard are guarding Seth today," Rafiqa said. "They both know Seth and all his tricks very well and if they think Seth is being cruel, they will growl and take him away again."
"And do not assume that Queen Susan is defenseless," Morgan said. The Queen was not carrying her bow but Harold and Lucy both carried knives; Queen Susan might have something as well.
"Morgan, do you know where they are keeping Seth? Do we have to wait long? I looked for a prison, but it wasn't on the tour."
She managed to not scoff at Maeve's nerves and the odd and rambling questions. Really, what sort of tour would include a prison?
"He had a hut for his own when he was at the Duffles. Rafiqa, do you know where he is staying here?"
"It's a similar arrangement. They gave him a room in the Cave."
Morgan was impressed by the Narnian foresight. "Keeping him with the Canines is an excellent idea!"
"Why?" Maeve shot back. "Why is it good my brother is staying with dogs in a cave?"
Rafiqa growled.
"Peace, Friend," Morgan told her gently, and smoothed the Hound's hair that had risen and bristled with the insult. "Maeve, the Cave is the name for the quarters where most of the Canines prefer to stay – there are no Felines there – they all live in the Tree. It's good a place because the Canines can hear and smell him. He has privacy but is also safe and has a vigilant guard."
"I'm not sure how safe he is with those Guards," Maeve muttered. "Last year, that Tiger said he would eat Seth."
Poor Jalur. "Don't worry. Seth is under Narnian protection." Morgan wished someone would commend her for being so compassionate of Maeve's irrational fears. As kindly as she could manage, she said, "And when you think on it, Maeve, you can see that they wouldn't be working so hard to help Seth heal himself if they could just kill him."
From the way Pierce looked, Morgan thought that her brother still wished that Seth would be served up at a Narnian meal for the big Carnivores. She decided not to tell him about the time the General had threatened to rip out her liver and feed it and her to the sharks if she ever betrayed Narnia.
Rafiqa's head turned to the door. "They come."
"Are you ready?" she asked.
"I think so," Maeve replied. She looked ill.
Impulsively, Morgan reached out and touched her old rival's shoulder. "I know it's hard. You're safe and Seth is safe and maybe it will work out if that's what you want and if he is willing to make the effort."
Morgan doubted it could happen; Seth did not have anything close to Harold's goodness. Still, it was nice to think there could be a happy ending and she would do what she could to see that happen.
Lambert again entered the Council Room. Seth followed, room, flanked by Otieno, the Leopard, and Lyall, the Wolf.
Morgan had to admit Seth did look very well; she thought he was wearing some of Harold's old clothes, though Harold, of course, would have looked better in them. The simple shirt and trousers suited him more than the rough homespun he'd been wearing at the Duffles; a Banker's robe would have been very presumptuous and out of place. He even had newish boots. If she hadn't been expecting him, she wasn't sure she would have recognized him. Seth seemed twice the height, half the mass, and with an energy that she hadn't seen in years.
She nodded at him as he walked by, but Seth had eyes only for his sister. He stopped halfway down the table.
It was so quiet, she could hear cawing of the Crows outside and the click of claws on the marbled floor.
Maeve was stuck in her chair, like a pin in a cushion, mouth open, eyes wide. Pierce looked as surprised and Morgan wondered if, from the way he was balancing on his toes, her brother was going to launch himself across the council table and try to tear Seth apart. That would not have worked at all. Pierce wasn't strong enough to do that and it would just be a mess, though the table was surely large and strong enough to support it. The Guards used to lie on top of it to protect the Four. She could see scratch marks in the table's polished top. One set of gouges, one-two-three-four-five, were probably Cat, and so deep Mr. Hoberry had not been able to buff them out.
"Thank you for coming to see me, Maeve," Seth finally said, breaking the silence first. "I was wrong and vile, I deserve the punishment I am receiving, which is kinder than I deserve. I am very sorry I hurt you."
Morgan couldn't blame him for saying something that sounded a little rehearsed – she would have done the same thing and wondered how long he had thought about it – a month? A day? On the walk from the Cave? With Seth and his clever ways, who knew?
But his words did their work and seemed to free Maeve. She surged out of her chair, rushed forward, and threw her arms around her brother.
Then the crying started. She looked at Queen Susan and she was smiling, and more importantly, the Beasts weren't growling. Maeve was sobbing on Seth's shoulder and Seth was crying, too. Pierce was holding a single handkerchief that brother and sister would have to share.
"I'll just go down to the other end of the table now," Morgan announced to everyone though no one was listening. She left them to it and went to her seat. It was up to Seth now.
Queen Susan sat next to her. "And now we wait."
Morgan watched the proceedings, at first. She couldn't hear them and didn't try to listen in. Maeve and Seth were sitting close together, holding hands. Pierce didn't look happy, but he also didn't look like he was going to grab a chair and start beating Seth with it. Lambert and Rafiqa were both attentive to Seth and Maeve; Otieno and Lyall were sitting right next to Seth. All ears were up, all fur was down, and no teeth were barred.
Morgan knew she was there for Maeve, who really didn't seem to need her at the moment. She was beginning to wonder what to do with herself when Queen Susan scooted closer, so close their legs were touching, the Queen's lovely purple and silver embroidered gown brushing the soft gray trousers Mrs. Furner had given her. Come to think of it, Lucy had been wearing contrasting lavender and yellow.
"With all the demands upon your time with only just arriving, I am grateful you humoured Mrs. Furner and her wardrobe management and still came here, as well," Queen Susan in a whisper.
The Queen's eyes, like her Guard's, lingered on the lion pin. Morgan resisted the urge to cover it up. It was too late now. It had been too late for her for a long time.
"She was very kind to include me," Morgan replied. Feeling nervous at being in such close confines with Queen Susan, she looked back up the table, beyond the scratches, and nodded toward Seth and Maeve. "It seems to be going well."
"Yes," the Queen replied. "I think the possibility of attending the dinner tonight is a significant motivator for Seth to guard his tongue and modulate his behavior."
"Rafiqa said as much and I saw that at the Duffles," Morgan replied. "He does enjoy being around people. He is still a prisoner, but you can't be so harsh that he gets worse."
"Precisely. It is a balance but so far the reward of more social opportunities seems to encourage positive behavior. I have also prevailed upon him to teach me some basic accounting principles." The Queen looked again at Maeve and Seth, who were both wearing that intent look Morgan recognized as Let's argue about nuances of audit assumptions. "That has been less successful. I am not certain if fault lies in the teacher or the student."
"Probably the teacher," Morgan replied. "Stanlehs usually don't have the patience to be good ones."
"Perhaps."
Morgan had that nagging sense that there was something more she needed to say. This was just the sort of situation that always induced a blind, babbling, blurting panic. Jina would have known but she was gone and Rafiqa was busy so she had to try to puzzle it out herself without becoming paralyzed. Maybe she wasn't nice enough? No. It was something about Seth and Queen Susan. Seth had been doing something to Queen Susan when she'd been trying to learn from him? Maybe Seth had tried with Queen Susan what he had attempted with Harold at the Duffles?
"To that end…" Queen Susan began, but Morgan blurted out before she could stop it, "Seth knows how to make you feel stupid even when you aren't. If you don't call him out, he keeps doing it. He will try to bully if you don't stand up to him."
She must have said the right thing because Queen Susan's face was still and then she slowly nodded. "Thank you, Morgan, I think that is precisely what has been occurring." The Queen exchanged a look with Lambert and Morgan realized that the Wolf had been listening to this conversation, too. She would very much like to be there the next time Seth tried to undermine Queen Susan with another of his clever, subtle jibes with Lambert around.
Queen Susan continued, "After our guests leave, I thought to visit our Faun winemakers on the western slopes. Would you be willing to accompany me?"
"I don't drink wine," Morgan interrupted, automatically, and then felt the idiot for speaking so. She shifted in her seat and glanced down at the other end of the table, hoping for a distraction but there was none to be had. Seth was still sitting next to Maeve, Pierce didn't look like he was going to murder anyone, there wasn't any crying, and there weren't any teeth showing anywhere.
"Well, I was thinking of this as a working visit. I had hoped you might do for them what you have done for the Duffle clan hold," Queen Susan said.
Oh.
"You could help them with their business planning," the Queen continued. "Are there better markets for their wines and, if so, how they might reach them. In Beruna there are some small crafthalls and guilds that would benefit from your advice. Maybe you could even advise us on the household and greater Cair Paravel accounts."
As with Mrs. Furner's efforts to coordinate her wardrobe, Queen Susan was being deliberately very kind and inclusive. "I would like that, very much," Morgan managed. She remembered to add, "Thank you." It was really good of her to think of ways for Morgan to continue to do her work. She thought this was maybe one of the longest conversations she had ever had with Queen Susan alone. "And yes, I would very much like to meet the winemakers and would love to travel with you."
The Queen shifted and moved closer still. She tilted her head down and in a very quiet voice, asked, "I understand you will be briefing Sallowpad tomorrow on the audit results?"
Morgan nodded and whispered back, "He's insistent on it, in fact."
"I will be joining you. Peter will as well. There have been developments we need to apprise you of and which we did not wish to commit to writing."
"Oh?" Morgan stopped rubbing the cuff of her sleeve between her fingers, not even aware she had been doing it. It was another absent-minded habit, like rubbing the hair off her eyebrows.
Queen Susan glanced at Lambert who swiveled his ears back and then forward again; the Queen nodded slightly in an apparent response. Was this a private code between them? Maybe the Wolf was saying it was safe to talk? "You brought the records we asked Tumnus to send?"
"Yes." Morgan had dug through the Stanleh files and brought all the suspicious accounts she and Harold had identified last year. They were fronts for Prince Namavar's faction and the funds had been funneled into making trouble for Namavar's rival, his older brother, Prince Rabadash, and interests hostile to Archenland and Narnia. "You have new information?"
"Old information, but still very concerning," Queen Susan replied. Her voice dropped lower still. "Seth reported to us that he believes one of those accounts might have had a historical interest in reptiles."
Morgan caught her breath as she added the sums together and came up with a very worrisome, horrible answer. "The Menagerie?"
"Yes, which may be only one piece of mischief directed at Narnia dating back some years ago. It all merits a closer look."
Morgan ran through the account, recalling the meticulously kept books of the operation. Yes, there had been line entries regarding acquisition and care of snakes. A swell of anger rose within her.
"You think Stanleh…"
She glanced down at Maeve and Seth.
"We hope only the Former Director," Queen Susan said. "As Seth was the source of the information, it is unlikely he would reveal to us an act of such terrible aggression in which he was himself implicated. But that is what we need you to investigate. Certainly you are sufficiently motivated."
Morgan nodded, her fingers already itching to dive into the records.
Fiends. Could anyone be so monstrous?
It wouldn't be easy to find. Nothing in that account had signaled a Narnian connection or she and Harold would have found it last year. But she had come to know the handiwork of the former Stanleh director very well and if there was something hidden in the years of that House's records that she had brought with them from Narrowhaven, she would find it.
And if any who had been involved in Jina's death were still alive, Morgan would find them and make them pay.
ooOOoo
At some signal from the Guards that Morgan did not see, Queen Susan rose and announced that this first meeting was over. It did not seem that Seth was being difficult or Maeve was becoming uncomfortable, so perhaps Queen Susan had wisely decided to stop the first meeting before they reached that point. Seth and Maeve tried to shake hands like normal Bankers, then awkwardly hugged; Pierce refused to touch Seth but Morgan didn't blame him. She didn't want to get that close to Seth, either.
"Will I be able to come to the party tonight?" Seth asked. At a growl from Lyall, he quickly added, politely, "Your majesty?"
Queen Susan raised her chin and her eyes swept over the room then returned to Seth, who, even Morgan could see, was really, really trying. He'd never been so deferential before.
"Our counsel is our own, Seth," Queen Susan said. "To my observer's eye, this went as well as might be expected. Thank you for not provoking anything that our Guards believed merited my intervention. However, my opinion is not the only one to be considered here. We will inform you shortly."
"Queen Susan, I…" Maeve began and at a look from the Queen, stopped.
"Maeve, we will discuss this further after Seth leaves," the Queen said, very pointedly. As kind and accommodating as she had been earlier, there was no question as to whose voice mattered here now.
They were just saying the good-byes when all heads with pointed or tufted ears turned to the door. Rafiqa trotted to her side. "King Edmund comes," the Hound whispered. "He is agitated."
Now worried, Morgan hurried out of the Council Room and ran right into Harold who looked like he had run very fast and hard from somewhere.
"What's wrong? Is it..."
He shook his head and grasped her arm. "No injury, no harm, no threat, but I need you to come with me right now."
Morgan looked over at Jalur and oddly the Tiger didn't seem perturbed at all. "Jalur…?"
"Now," the Tiger said calmly and yawned.
Harold was looking over her shoulder. Queen Susan and everyone else was crowding at the Council Room door, no doubt wondering what had King Edmund in a disheveled and anxious sweat.
She did not know what the hand signal meant that passed between Harold and his sister but Queen Susan said, "This is not our concern, Friends. Leave King Edmund and Banker Morgan be." Her voice turned commanding. "Now." The order was punctuated with a growl from Lambert.
"Come with me," Harold said and led her at a quick trot back out of the Palace.
There were a lot of Crows circling about and following them. "Harold?"
"I had a disturbing conversation with Alan and Constance and thereafter an even more disturbing conversation with Jalur and Sallowpad."
Jalur was whispering something to Rafiqa whose tail started wagging very hard. So whatever was bothering Harold was not bothering the Guards?
She followed him through the gardens in the direction of the Murder, which explained why the Crows and Ravens were following them. Harold didn't slow down until they entered the yard of the Murder. He led her to one of the out buildings, made from rough-hewn wood, with a bark roof, and two holes cut in the side as windows.
"Have you been here before?" Harold asked.
"Not inside, no. I was never invited to any of the roosts. It's not my business."
Harold let out a frustrated huff. "So I thought."
Sallowpad landed on the roof of the shed and stared at them.
"Chief?" Morgan asked, thoroughly confused.
"It's gone this far! Show Banker Morgan the Counting House!" the Raven croaked.
"Counting House?" Morgan repeated. "What are you counting?" And why didn't you tell me if there was counting involved?
Jalur pushed open the door with his nose. "Wrasse and Dalia began it at the Tree," the Tiger said. "When the numbers became too high we moved it here."
We? Moved what? What numbers?
"Be careful," Harold said, sounding very solemn and serious. "We don't want to disturb it."
Morgan walked into the shed and looked around, completely confused. On the floor of the shed were tree bark pieces, each piece carefully piled one on top of the other in neat stacks that lined the wall in ordered rows. It didn't seem like anything important – certainly nothing that would so disturb Harold and the whole of the Murder.
She could hear the sounds of Crow claws scraping on the roof but they were otherwise silent, surely listening to every word.
"I don't understand," 'Morgan finally said. "What am I supposed to see here?"
"These," Harold said. He reached down, picked up one piece of bark from a pile near the door, and held it out for her.
Morgan gently touched the single piece of bark and fingered the five careful scratches etched in it. They looked very like the Cat claw marks that she had just seen on the council table.
"It is how Narnians who cannot write kept count," Harold said softly. "Not all Narnians use fives and tens to count – it depends upon how many toes or claws the Narnian has. There are five scratches because Wrasse and Dalia began the counting."
"Five claws on a front paw," Morgan said. "And each piece of bark in here?"
"Has fives scratches."
Judging from the neat, careful stacks, the pieces of individual tree bark were organized throughout the shed in groups of ten. Hundreds had been counted here.
"I have never seen anything like this," Harold said. His voice was queer, tight, and full of emotion. He reverently set the bark piece down in the little stack where it belonged. "Narnians are a fractious lot. It is very unusual to see so many act so cooperatively for so long."
"What are they counting?"
"Each day you and King Edmund have been together," Sallowpad croaked from the window. "Counted and recorded by the Beasts and Birds of Narnia to mark your seasons."
"But why?"
"Can you not guess?" Harold stared at her and his eyes were wide and a little damp.
She looked around the hut again and the careful stacks of bark that marked the days, weeks, months, and seasons. This wasn't just about numbers. This was devotion and care. It felt like a shrine. She gasped.
"The Three Year Bonded Presumption?"
Nodding, Edmund slid his hand over her shoulder and she settled in the crook of his arm. "Constance and Alan informed me that one of the reasons he reneged on your joint venture was because you were, in fact, married to me. When I denied it, I learned that my subjects, present company included, believe us already bonded, and have been keeping meticulous records to document our pair-bond should anyone attempt to interfere or we attempt to separate."
"So long?" she said in wonder, seeing the humble shed in a whole new light. So much effort, by so many, was on display here.
He nodded. "Every day since that first night."
"I never lived here though," Morgan said, working the days and times back mentally. "I'm not Narnian, either."
"Neither matters under the Law," Harold said. "Many Narnians migrate and are only together during the courtship season. We have, in fact, followed a very typical Narnnian pattern."
"It does not require offspring, either," she said. "All the law requires is courtship for three seasons as defined in the law."
"There is dispute as to whether to count your time in the Lone Islands as the second season," Jalur said, holding his tail high to avoid disturbing the piles. "But that uncertainty was settled when Morgan returned to Narnia today."
"At least three seasons have passed," Sallowpad said. "Possibly four."
"Alan and Constance spoke too soon," Jalur said with a growl. "It would have been better if you had mated during this trip, first, which would have then made this visit definitely count as a season."
"Though King Edmund did wear the new shirt," Rafiqa countered. "And Banker Morgan dressed specially, too. They were courting each other the moment she set foot on the dock. They intended to mate!"
Jalur growled again. "But actual mating would have eliminated any uncertainty."
"The law doesn't require mating; courting behavior counts,"' Sallowpad said.
"Enough!" Harold said, raising his voice. "Morgan and I are fully capable of managing our courtship ourselves."
From the growling and snapping beaks, it sounded as though the Narnians disagreed. Harold scowled. Morgan ran her hand down his back. "It is a very nice shirt. I'm glad you wore it."
"It's just all this management!" he exclaimed with an exasperated huff. "It's insulting and very calculating."
"It could be worse," Morgan reminded him before the growls and snaps turned into a genuine argument. "It could be Shepherds. Or your brother. What I find unconscionable is that it was Meryls who pointed this out to you." Honestly, she would never live it down. They were a deceptively subtle bunch always hiding behind bright, white smiles.
"Just so," Harold said with a grumpy harrumph.
She spied a pile of what looked to be debris in the corner. In the Counting House, it was surely not rubbish and, stepping as carefully as Jalur had, she went to investigate.
"I did not see this before," Harold said as he joined her. They both knelt on the dirt floor and examined the careful arrangement of glinting, silvery thread and long, dark hairs.
As her braid fell over her shoulder and brushed the ground, Harold touched the little pile with a fingertip. "These are yours, Morgan. This is your hair."
"And the silver thread is from that first gown I bartered."
"Our shinys are here, too," Harold said. He gestured to the mound of wire, rocks, and other pretty things they had both given the Crows over the last three – or four – seasons.
The pyrite she had given Harah only that morning was in the pile.
"I have never seen anything like this before." Harold looked up at Sallowpad. He placed a hand over his heart and his voice broke as he said, "Friend, I never knew you all would do this for me. For us. I am so deeply honoured."
Sallowpad bowed his head in return.
"There are other things, too," Morgan whispered. On the ground there were piles of straw and sticks, scraps of cloth, dried flowers and leaves, springy moss and grasses, bark, nuts and seeds, downy feathers, and soft clumps of hair and fur.
"And all this?" Harold asked. He picked up a twig from the pile and gently twirled it between his fingers. "In this place, surely everything has a purpose."
What it all was, was obvious. But why?
"Gifts," Sallowpad said. "Like the shinys."
Harold looked over his shoulder at Jalur and Rafiqa.
"Bonding gifts for you and Banker Morgan that the Talking Beasts and Birds have brought," the Tiger said.
Rafiqa added, "And nesting material and bedding for your offspring, and things for the den you would share."
Morgan felt the tears spring to her eyes and drop to the dirt on which they were kneeling in little pings and puffs.
"Birds use sticks for nests; many mothers pull their own hair and fur out to line beds," Harold said and carefully returned the twig to the pile with the rest of the gifts. "Again, thank you my Friends, for this honour and these wondrous gifts of your very selves."
Her tears were falling freely now as she beheld the depth of feeling of the Narnians. The Narnian Beasts had made offerings to their King and his Mate, each according to his or her kind. Harold dabbed his own eyes and handed her his handkerchief.
"What of the others?" Harold choked out. "The Centaurs and Dwarfs, the beings of the Wood? Do they have something like this?"
"Of course," Jalur replied.
Harold bowed his head over his hands. "I am so humbled, Friends. Thank you, all." He was barely able to speak.
Humbled, yes, and so grateful, so honoured. In this dusty corner of a shed, Morgan saw the deepest desires Narnians had for their country. They had suffered so much during Jadis and here was expressed their hope for a future of stability and prosperity. Harold had tried to avoid that duty for a long time. Morgan had not thought she could ever be what was expected of a consort to a King. The Narnians, however, had, from the very beginning, seen what they had not. The Narnians had waited so long.
Harold was bent over his hands and his tears fell there. Morgan shoved the handkerchief back at him and again stroked his back. Sometimes he needed touch more than words. As hard as this was for her, it was so much more for Harold. He worked so hard to protect Narnia, to atone for what he had done as a child. There was so much naked, raw hope here. To know you were loved and trusted so much was beautiful and she was so glad Harold had seen it so tangibly from the subjects whom he loved so well in return.
"Thank you all for you gifts," she called out to all the listeners, and surely there were many, many of them. "Now I ask you all to please withdraw. Your King and his lady very much need to talk alone."
There was no protest. Really, how could there be, for they had already decided she was the consort and bonded mate to their King. They would obey her now. Rafiqa and Jalur both backed carefully out the door; Sallowpad bobbed his head. "Banker Morgan, my King," and flew off, cawing orders to the hovering Crows outside. Bits of bark, dirt, and feathers drifted down and settled over them as the Birds scraped and scrambled off the roof.
Harold let out a relieved sigh. "Well, at least I'm not hearing Sire anymore." He dabbed his eyes again and worriedly folded the handkerchief over and over in his hands.
Morgan rocked back on her heels to get more comfortable without upsetting the precious gifts and bark. The neat little stacks of wood were everywhere. Yes, it had been that long. And an exciting thought struck her. "You know, Harold, under the revised Lone Islands Code, Narnian law explicitly controls."
"It does," Harold agreed, sounding very weary. "Which means that, under the Lone Island code, we are also married, retroactively. Should I ever return to Narrowhaven, your father will surely lop my head off or, at the very least, crush my hands."
"Oh, I shouldn't think so," Morgan replied, putting her arm around him. He sounded so overwhelmed. "Father will be too pleased with the refund Narnia owes me on my taxes. Being married entitles me to a higher deduction. I'm sure it's retroactive."
"What?" she asked when Harold turned and stared at her, gape-mouthed. "In fact, I think marriage to a Monarch entitles me to tax exempt status under the revised Code! I wonder if my father inserted that provision deliberately!"
"Invoice the Narnian treasury," Harold said, sounding very sour. "Susan will authorise it and make a special disbursement."
"I will need my records to compute the sum. I suppose I could have…"
Harold shook his head and shrugged out from under her consoling arm. "Morgan, we do have larger concerns than the status of your tax refund."
"We do?"
Harold waved his arms around. "You have just learned that we have been duped in a clever conspiracy. We have been outwitted by Meryls. Far more troubling, my subjects, who would also be your subjects, have been manipulating us for years, without saying a word. I am sorry," Harold said heavily and flopped his hands into his lap in a very resigned way. "I never meant this to happen, not this way. I suppose we could petition Peter for dissolution."
What? Why was he being so thick? "Could you really do that, Harold? Because I certainly do not want to do that to them." She waved her arm about. "The Narnians did all this out of love. Their love for you is that great, and their hope for Narnia's future is greater even than that. I think this is beautiful. It's reduced us both to tears."
Harold smiled a little, took her hands in his, and touched the pin on her sleeve. "Lion and Tree, Crow and Hound." He kissed her hands. "This is not for me alone. It is for you as well. For both of us."
She felt embarrassed warmth creep across her face and kissed his hands in return.
"Are you sure, Morgan? Truly?"
"Oh, Harold, of course I am. She pulled away from his hands to grab his nice shirt (courting! They had made him court!), fisting the soft cloth in her hands. "Don't be an idiot. The day I read that first Galman contract all those years ago, I knew whoever wrote it was someone extraordinary."
He blushed now. "I think my real name is more appropriate given the gravity of the moment, Banker Morgan."
"Oh, very well, Edmund." She kissed his cheek. "I love you. Never doubt it. From the very first, it was always you, Edmund, never Father-Brother-Peter-or-Alan. You. No one else. Ever."
"And I love you, Morgan of Linch."
He gently trapped her face in his hands, tried to guide her eyes to his, and Morgan knew what he was trying to do. Her eyes slid away and fixed on the rough wall of the shed. He wanted to try to catch her wandering gaze and bring it back to him, eye to eye. "Please?" he whispered. "Can you try, my love? This once?"
She nodded and biting her lip with the effort, Morgan clapped her hands over his and steered her whole head to try to stare into his face, square on. Gritting her teeth, she tried, oh she tried, so hard for both of them, just this once. And, for one moment, she saw the joyous whole of him, saw his smile, saw the warm brown of his eyes, and saw her own reflection shining there. She managed to hold it for a breath. Then, it was gone.
"Morgan of Linch, will you be bonded to me, as my mate?"
She couldn't help it and snorted with laughter. "Harold…"
"Edmund," he interrupted.
"Edmund, I already am your mate under Narnian law."
"I am making a heartfelt declaration and you quibble with my choice of verbiage?"
"Yes!"
"Yes, you will be my bondmate when you already are, or yes you are going to argue with me over how I have chosen to articulate the convoluted proposition?"
"Yes! And yes again." Morgan cried and threw her arms around him. Edmund steadied her or they might have both toppled over and taken the hut down with them.
Their kiss was very thorough. On the one wing, it would be nice to move this to a proper Narnian conclusion; on the other wing, she really didn't want to attempt any illustration in the rickety shed where they might disturb all the bark, shinys, hair and thread. A corset flung on the bedstead and hanging from the canopy was one thing - out the window and into the Murder did not appeal. And the Crows would probably steal it and Mrs. Furner would be very cross.
She pulled away and carefully stood. "I think, Edmund, this calls for a thorough review of the Three Year Bonded Presumption Law."
"You want to assure my proposal is legally binding? You forget who wrote the law. J-U-S-T. It is in my title, you see. It is binding if I say so."
"But we need to discern if our bonding is retroactive."
"And so we return to the amount of your tax refund!"
"If the Narnian treasury owes me, I intend to collect, with interest."
ooOOoo
To follow, the final (really) chapter, and then your choice of epilogues.
And so, finally, TA DA! I hope you enjoyed this. Thank you for your support.