Disclaimer: Edmund and Peter Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: PROVERBS 21:15

Peter hurried out the gate and back to where he had left the wagon with the cure for the Silver Plague. The Dwarfs were already grumbling and jostling each other under the canvas that covered the wagon bed, and Edmund sat smirking on the seat. In the road beside him stood a chestnut-colored Horse.

The Horse snorted and whinnied softly. "High King."

"Phillip." Peter stroked the Horse's nose and then swung up into the wagon next to Edmund, staring at him, hardly believing he was real. Alive. Whole.

"Edmund, how–"

"Don't you think we'd better get going before we're seen?" Edmund pulled Peter's hood up, concealing his fair hair. "And let's not advertise, eh?"

With unsteady hands and a click of his tongue, Peter started the horses, and Philip trotted alongside them.

"Edmund," Peter said again once they were on the main road leading down to the docks. "How did you get here? And with my Dwarfs?"

"Are they yours?" Edmund asked with a smirk.

Peter gave him a lopsided grin. How he had missed his snarky little brother. "Well, they're not Shahrivar's anymore."

"Prince Shahrivar?"

"You remember him?"

Edmund nodded. "From the banquet a while back. One of the Tisroc's sons. What's he got to do with this?"

"First tell me how you got here. How could you have found me?"

Edmund shrugged. "I knew I had to come back to Tashbaan to find you. I thought I'd go back to the slave market and see if I could buy some information, but as soon as I set foot off the ship, I heard Aslan speak to me. It was as clear as I have ever heard Him."

"What did He say?"

"'Go to the lady.'"

"He–" Peter drew a shuddering breath, and he blinked back sudden tears, hardly able to see the dark road before him. "Those words exactly?"

"Exactly. I didn't know what good it would do. When you were first taken away, I asked Lady Cemil where you would be taken once you were sold, but she didn't know. She said there was no way to tell. I didn't know what good it would do to ask her again now, but I came anyway." Edmund glanced over at the Horse still trotting by the wagon. "Phillip and I did. When we got to the Tarkaan's palace, we saw the wagon in the trees and the Dwarfs creeping towards the gate into the garden. We quickly sorted out who I was and who they were and why Narnian Dwarfs were in Calormen at all, and we went in to see if you were all right. We would have just waited there in the trees until you came out, but I thought it best to step in when I did."

Peter nodded. "But how did you get here? How did you escape in the first place?" He shook his head. "How in the world did you get your sight back? How–?" Still watching the road as best he could with blurred sight, he slipped his arm around his brother's shoulders and pulled him close to his side. "Shahrivar said you'd been sold to Tahir. Lady Cemil said you had drowned. I didn't know what to believe. I thought–"

There was a slight thickness in Edmund's soft laugh. "And what did Aslan say?"

"He said He would take care of you, and that I had to take care of Narnia." Peter steadied himself a little. "I should never have listened to anyone else." He swiped his sleeve over his eyes and glanced at Phillip. "You've been home, haven't you, Ed? Susan and Lucy, are they all right?"

"They're fine. Evidently Orieus has hardly let them out of his sight since we went missing."

"And what about your sight? I thought you might never–"

"Thank Aslan for Lucy's cordial." Edmund's smile faltered, and Peter could feel a tremor run through him. "I was so afraid. All that time in the dark–"

Peter tightened his arm around him. "It's over now. It's all over. We just have to get these chests back to Narnia."

Edmund glanced back at the covered wagon bed. "What exactly is in there? The Dwarfs said they were hired to dig up a certain kind of earth, but they didn't really know what it was for."

Peter urged the horses into a faster pace. "It's the cure."

"The cure?"

"You've been home," Peter said, his voice wary. "Tell me what it's like."

Edmund's expression turned grim. "Desolate. Nothing growing. Nothing at all. Trees stripped of leaves and bark, dead or dying. Every flower, every bush, every blade of grass, eaten to the roots. Lucy told me it was those butterfly things sent from the Tisroc. Nothing seems to kill them."

"I have the cure," Peter said. "Shahrivar recognized me at the slave market, bought me and took me to the tunnel where the Dwarfs were mining this particular earth. He wanted me to give him Narnia. Otherwise, he was going to wait until Narnia had such far-reaching famine that the people offered themselves to the Tisroc as slaves in exchange for food and the cure."

"And the four of us?"

"I think all he actually knew about you is that you had escaped. No doubt he would have eventually heard you were drowned. He was going to kill me before their royal court and take Lucy for himself. The Tisroc was to get Susan."

Edmund's eyes narrowed. "I'll kill him."

"No need," Peter said, eyes hard. "He won't be bothering anyone anymore."

"Then he's dead. It seems no more than just to me, though now I expect we will have outright war with Calormen because of it."

"We're at war with them as it is," Peter said. "We have been since Arren and Darreth betrayed us to help their plot. Now, at least, we have a way to stop this whole thing."

"And the Tisroc?" Edmund asked. "And the Terebinthians?"

"One thing at a time, My Kings." The Horse trotting beside them nickered softly. "You're headed home, you're both alive and well, and you have the cure for the Aned Tahwen. That's enough to give thanks for all at once, isn't it?"

"True enough, Phillip. True enough." Edmund laughed and leaned back against the wagon seat. "Drive on, brother mine."

The road was almost empty until they got closer to the docks. Even then there was very little activity. Peter kept his hood pulled up as far as it would go, and Edmund hunched over in the seat beside him trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. Phillip was wisely silent.

"Where is this ship you brought?" Peter asked, slowing the wagon when they reached the sea. "It's not one of ours, is it?"

Edmund looked faintly disgusted. "Of course not. It's that little cutter over there." He pointed out the one, not much more than the silhouette of mast and rigging against the night sky. "I hired it in Narnia."

Peter nodded and pulled the wagon up to the dock next to it and then sat for a moment, looking with longing out to the sea and to the north. Home at last. They were going home.

"You'll like the captain," Edmund said as he climbed down from the wagon seat. "He's a good man and won't tell any tales."

Before Peter could reply, a shadow sprang from the back of some crates and seized Edmund from behind, one arm around his neck and a gleaming blade at his throat.

"Too bad that can't be said for the dock rats I've had watching for you, King Edmund."

Edmund's eyes widened, but he didn't struggle, and Peter leapt to his feet, feeling the blood race hot through his veins.

"Arren." His hands clenched into fists. "Traitor."

"High King." The Terebinthian grinned, teeth white in his dark beard. "My fool of a brother told me King Edmund had escaped. And I knew, blind though he may be, that he would come back for you."

Edmund gave Peter an almost imperceptible shake of the head, and Peter nodded the slightest bit in acknowledgment.

"Blind?" Peter asked.

Arren laughed. "Don't try to pretend, My Lord. Your brother is blind and helpless. If you wish him to live, come with me."

Peter held up his hands and came around to that side of the wagon. "What do you want?"

"What I've always wanted, High King. A share of Narnia and the favor of the Tisroc (may he be generous forever)." He tightened his arm around Edmund's neck. "Sadly, the only way I will be able to keep that favor is to finally fulfill my agreement with him and make away with the Kings of Narnia once and for all."

"Peter."

There was desperate fear in Edmund's voice, but Peter could read the look in his eyes. He was anything but afraid. He was tensing to spring and signaling Peter to do the same.

"If you're only going to kill us anyway, why should we cooperate?" Peter asked, his voice quiet as he moved a little closer to captor and captive.

"It can be easy or hard, My Lord." Arren tightened his hold yet more, making Edmund catch a gasping breath. "And if you cause too much of a commotion, it will only draw observers. Would not our Tisroc be delighted to know the Kings of Narnia have chosen to visit his fair city? Either way, you and your brother die. As I said, I can make my way quick and easy."

"Peter," Edmund said again, and again his voice quavered with what sounded like terror. "Peter, please–"

At that, Peter took a step closer, his hands open and outstretched, subtly forcing Arren back. Back towards the wagon. Back towards–

"Phillip, now!"

The Horse shoved the Terebinthian forward and then reared up and gave a shrill whinny, forcing Arren to scramble away from his flailing hooves. In the same instant, Edmund twisted out of Arren's hold and Peter flung himself on both of them, all three struggling for control of the dagger still in the Terebinthian's hand.

OOOOO

As quickly as the battle had started, it was over. Edmund looked down at the Terebinthian Duke crumpled in the widening pool of red at his feet. Ghost pale, Peter stood panting beside him, one hand on Edmund's shoulder, steadying himself. His other hand, red with Arren's blood, was pressed against his torn and stained shirt.

"All right– Ed?"

Edmund nodded. "I don't know which of us has more blood on him, me or him or you."

"Doesn't matter," Peter said, his voice shaky and insupportably weary. "He's dead. I just– Eddie, I need to go home."

Edmund smiled thinly, knowing exactly how he felt. "Sure, Peter. Let's get–"

Without warning, Peter sagged against him and then collapsed into the street.

Author's Note: Many thanks to Lady Alambiel for help in brainstorming and proofing and remembering who was named what.

– WD

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