Chapter 37: Naming Day
As Brickit had predicted, it was a night of great anxiety and little sleep. When finally I made it back to Brint's cottage, I found both aunt and nuncle well awake and sitting with Gran by the fire. The ladies were carding wool and Brint was fixing the wooden tines of a rake. We all joined in, Belana with her sewing, Brickit with his nail binding, and I learned the fine art of carding at Bly's knee. It was not as easy as she made it look, and I knew on the morrow I would feel an ache in my shoulders to counterbalance the one in my feet. Still, it was a pleasure to be surrounded by family and to talk about little things, even though we were all strained to keep our spirits calm. I knew we were all resisting the urge to vilify cousin Biss, much as we knew such displays wouldn't help Belana's plight.
"Has Bort returned?" I asked, holding up one of the combs for Bly to inspect my efforts. She nodded and handed me another hank of wool to work.
"Not that I know," Brickit replied. "Methinks he went to speak to his mother, Brea. A good woman, that."
"My cousin," said Belana. "A good woman in a bad situation. Made worse now," she added softly.
"So have all the arrangements for school been settled?" I asked to fill the awkward silence that fell, and the adults fell on the topic eagerly. We talked and rambled and I think I must have nodded off where I sat on the hearth, because the next thing I knew was Brack shaking me awake. It had been several days since I had been so rudely disturbed, and my body and mind were not ready for such disruption.
"Whaaa?" I all but yelled. Normally I'd say I was loud enough to rouse the whole house, but I knew full well everyone was already awake, even the baby, given the unnatural hours they maintained. I blinked, looking around in alarm. I was in my room, still dressed in yesterday's clothes. "Whaa-what . . . is it?"
I was rewarded with that distinct look of patience and pity Black Dwarves reserve for dense children, sleep-deprived kings, and anyone not of their ilk. Brack set the candlestick he carried on the table, and in a slow, careful voice said,
"It's morn. It's wet. You're awake. Coffee is ready. A courier arrived for you in the night, a great black bat who says his name is Bathelstane. Papa sent him to the longhouse to give you time to collect your wits."
I blinked, torn between being insulted and accepting the truth, when Baia arrived with a mug of coffee and saved lives all around.
"She has court today," Baia informed me, holding up Batina. I caught a glimpse parti-colored silk and brocade and a swirl of lace.
"I hope that frock is comfortable," I warned. "Court can last all day."
"She knows. She picked this dress on purpose."
I smiled absently. My mind was far more prepared to deal with battle than fashion at this hour, and I sipped the coffee as I digested the barrage of information that had been lobbed at me.
"Bathelstane is here?" I asked after a few moments.
"La," Brack said with exaggerated patience and wry expression. This must be what if feels like to have a younger brother. It's a wonder Peter hadn't strangled me the moment we were out of my mother's sight on the train to Professor Kirke's. His restraint was the stuff of legends.
"Step closer that I may beat you with this pillow, sir," I threatened playfully, lifting the pillow. Both children collapsed into giggles at my challenge as I gingerly stood up. My feet were sore but bearable. I still wore the soft leather slippers Bly had whipped up to cover the bandages on my feet. I would do for the moment. I was very eager to speak to Bathelstane, who served in the army and was senior among the couriers and pages at Cair Paravel. In simpler terms, Bathelstane did not carry messages for just anyone, so his message was important and urgent and I prayed it was from Cheroom.
I was considerably more alert when I hobbled into the longhouse. I had overestimated my endurance and I was regretting coming so far without someone taller than Brack to lean on. To my surprise it was not nearly as busy or noisy as normal. Half the apprentices seemed missing. There was no sign of Belana or Boont or even Brickit. The masters were absent as well, and the younger children had been left in the care of older siblings or relatives.
"Is Biss here yet?" I asked Brack, but he shrugged and shook his head, ignorant. He hung my cloak for me and took his father's seat. I looked to the rafters. Bathelstane hung upside down by his ridiculously small feet, completely out of place and a most welcome sight.
"Bathelstane! Well met, good Bat. What word?"
He had been gnawing a bit of dried pear, but he gave off his meal to spread his wings and bow to me. "I bring greetings from Cair Paravel, Your Majesty. Your brother and sisters, the king and queens, charged me to tell you they hope you are enjoying your stay and that you and yours are thriving. You are sorely missed and they are eager for your return. They send thanks for your letters and are sending replies back by your regular couriers."
"Have you any letters for me now?"
"I do, King Edmund."
I saw now he had a dark ribbon across his chest to hold a tightly folded letter on his back. I reached up and helped him to loosen the tie. My heart was racing in anticipation as I broke the seal.
To Edmund, King of Narnia, from his loyal tutor Cheroom, greetings!
Majesty, your inquiry was met with much debate and discourse, resulting in such a clearing out of books and scrolls as your devoted librarian has not seen in his tenure, prompting me to alert Your Majesty to avoid said servant until such time as his small kingdom can be set aright and the dust can settle back into its proper place.
Poor Irel. He hated anything that disturbed the ancient tomes in Cair Paravel's library, and we royals tended to be very disturbing. Seeing as how I didn't want to be ingloriously murdered by an ancient, mostly blind, and irate Hedgehog, I would take Cheroom's advice to heart.
The delay in your receiving this missive is due to attempts by myself and the esteemed Wye to amass as much information as we could manage, and to speak to as many of the clan chiefs as we could easily contact. There were some slight variations of the tale, but the overall facts concur. Several of the Dwarf chiefs felt the need to report in person to discuss the subject at length, though Wye and I are inclined to believe they were eager for the whole story for the sake of gossip.
Typical Dwarfs, truth be told. They did love to talk, preferably about their own merits and the shortcomings of others.
The requirements for establishing a Dwarf clan are based on long-held tradition rather than law. Within a twelvemonth of Narnia's creation, rival Dwarf factions had sprung up based on little more than hair coloring and preferences for materials worked be it stone, wood, metal, glass, or earth. Tired of their bickering, King Frank and Queen Helen assembled all the clans for a moot to help them settle their differences. They met at Hengefast, the first royal seat. A week of arguing ensued, and it wasn't until Queen Helen informed them there was only a day's worth of beer left that they got anything done. It was agreed among the family heads that they would disperse across Narnia and establish themselves in areas that best suited the skills and needs of their craft. Hence the stoneworkers and glassworkers are concentrated on the coast, the woodworkers focused in the area of Glasswater and central Narnia, and so forth. It was also agreed to respect each clan's territory and craft and to exchange likely apprentices. Each group was asked to present themselves to the king and queen for their blessing and to choose a name for the clan. Afterwards they finished the last of the beer and set out across the land to establish homes and reputations of their own.
Thus we have the various clans and families. Since Year 2 of the Narnian calendar, eight of the original clans have died out or been absorbed into others, and thirty-one new clans of both colors have been founded. Since the initial Naming Day, as Dwarfs call it, new clans have been established by the new chief presenting themselves to their monarch, telling the clan's name, and receiving a blessing to prosper. It's been over five hundred years since a new clan has arisen (none of the chiefs interviewed for this information acknowledged the two Black clans supposedly established during Jadis' reign, and all supposed members of said clans have mysteriously vanished since the Battle of Beruna).
I felt my mood and focus shift as I read Cheroom's conclusion and valediction. Eleventh hour though it might be, things were falling into place. Bathelstane watched me throughout, and he was on familiar enough terms with me to ask,
"Is it as you hoped, King Edmund?"
I looked up and met his dark eyes, finally allowing myself a small, knowing smile. "I couldn't ask for better news, sweet Bathelstane."