Lyra stood in her nicest burgundy traveling coat, each one of her normally wild ringlets tucked into a soft wool gray cap-bonnet held in place by a smooth satin ribbon that tied loosely under her chin. She wore new gloves, a gift from one of the scholars who had come to bid her goodbye; she rubbed her covered hands together nervously. Pantalaimon was perched on her shoulder in the form of a blue-jay.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lyra saw a manservant in a dark coat-tail serving-suit comforting his wife who was weeping steadily. They were Roger's parents, she knew, and they hadn't the faintest idea where he was. The manservant whispered something that might have been, "We have to be brave."
Her stomach turned, twisting itself into painful, ever-tightening knots. Poor Roger, always such a good friend, so loyal, so steadfast...how could she possibly leave without saying good-bye to him? And what of Billy Costa? Was Caspian right? Were they really taken somewhere together? If so, where?
"Lyra!" a cheerful voice cried, interrupting her thoughts.
Mrs. Coulter, wearing the most splendid traveling clothes imaginable, including a tan-coloured, fur-lined coat almost as pretty as she herself was, stood before her; her golden monkey trotting at her side, grinning at Pan.
"Hello, Mrs. Coulter." she greeted her respectfully.
"Are you ready?" she asked eagerly, her lips parting into a friendly smile.
Happy as she still was to be going away with this delightful noblewoman, Lyra couldn't help saying, "There's someone missing, I want to say good-bye to Roger."
Bending down to little Lyra's level and gently lifting up her chin with one soft finger, Mrs. Coulter asked, "Who's Roger?"
"My friend," Lyra told her unflinchingly. "He works in the kitchens."
Checking her expensive gold watch, Mrs. Coulter sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, we really must go." She offered out her hand for Lyra to take. "Come, Lyra."
Lyra stared at the hand blankly for a moment, torn between obeying this woman and her desire to see Roger safe and sound once more before leaving.
"Why don't you write him a letter?" suggested Mrs. Coulter.
"I can't, he's missing."
"Children wander off all the time, dearie, I'm sure by the time your letter gets here they will have found him, and what a nice surprise he'll have-a letter from his friend!" She offered her hand again; this time Lyra took it. "You can tell him all about the journey-did I mention we're taking my Zeppelin?-and you can even send him a photogram if you like. What do you think?"
"Yeah..." said Lyra, watching the golden monkey's perfectly groomed fur shine in the light of the sun as he walked along-side his mistress. "...I suppose."
That evening, upstairs in Peter's dorm, Susan sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed with a deck of playing-cards set out in front of her. She was supposedly playing solitaire, but Edmund, sitting by the fire-place again, noticed that she hadn't done more than lightly flick a card or two with the tip of the nail of her middle finger once or twice for at least ten minutes.
"Thinking about mother and Lyra?" he asked finally, standing up and walking over to the corner of the bed, pressing one palm into the post closest to him.
"Yes," she admitted softly, her eyes distant and unreadable.
"I don't think she'll hurt her." Edmund said after another long pause.
"Why not?" Susan said rather venomously, her expression remaining blank though her mouth curled up into something like a sneer. "She gave you that black eye-I know it, so don't bother lying."
"Fine, I wont, I'm too tired to try."
"And she drugged you." Susan pulled her knees to her chest; a card fell away from it's row and landed-unnoticed-on the floor.
"If I harp on that, I'll never be able to forgive her, Susan."
"Why should you? Why should we?"
"Because she's our mother and therefore one half of what makes us who we are." He looked so much older as he spoke, with one dark lock of his hair sticking in the form of what was almost a curl to his forehead, and his eyes hardly those of the child-brother she'd always known and loved, that she very nearly wanted to cry for him. But a surge of anger held back any tears that formed fenced in between her eyelids.
"As children maybe we are a reflection of our parents, but we should be allowed to change that image into whatever we want it to be-it's time we started doing that. I know what I want now, and it isn't to be her." she said, her tone even more bitter than might have been expected.
"I know, it's just, I never forgave father for what he did; knowing that he died trying to murder an infant." Edmund explained softly, pulling away from the post and reaching for his sister's hand. "I guess all this time I've just been wanting one parent I didn't always hate-one half of myself I didn't loathe."
"Edmund, you are not our father and I am not our mother, we are who we are-do you understand?"
"Yes, but you don't know how long its taken me to." he whispered, shaking his head as she gently pulled him down onto the bed beside her so that they were eye-to-eye.
"Edmund, you don't know this but mother called me something-something that hurt so badly you can't even imagine, and I don't think I could ever forgive her for it, especially knowing she's taken away Lyra on top of everything." The tears freed themselves and rolled down her cheeks like rain.
He reached up and gently wiped his sister's eyes dry with the side of his sleeve. "Su, I know what she said, what she called you."
"But how?"
"I thought it was a dream," he told her, edging closer and putting his arm around her shoulders. "I didn't know it was real until I woke up and realized that it must have been." Shutting his eyes, he winced, then slowly, he opened them again. "I was asleep-I didn't know where I was-but I heard everything."
"He does love me, Edmund." Susan assured him, feeling a shiver run the wrong way up her spine, making it tingle unpleasantly at the memory. "I'm not Peter's...well, what she said."
"Yes, I know," said Edmund as his nose curled up in disgust involuntarily. "if she wasn't our mother-and if I'd been fully conscious at the time-I would have smacked her for calling you that."
"You might have," Susan said demurely. "but then again, you might not have-you've never been violent."
"No, but I have always been plagued by a conscience that constantly reminds me when something is unjust."
"Anyone can guess that-just by your dæmon, an owl does give that much away." She smiled at Ella as she said this. "Along with your over-bearing sense of wisdom you're too young for."
"And what can I make of your Maugrim?" Edmund teased her.
Maugrim growled at that; Susan giggled faintly, letting the joke simmer in the air for a few moments before they turned back to serious things.
"Ed, I need to tell you something," Susan informed him, swallowing hard, wondering how he would take this. "it's about Lucy."
"Is she all right?" his first concern voiced itself automatically, unwarranted, yet completely expected somehow.
Susan smiled reassuringly and nodded. "Yes, she's fine, but I think you should know...she isn't really Peter's sister."
"She's not?" His brows furrowed.
"Do you remember how when father went to kill the baby mother had with Asriel there was supposedly another baby there, too, who's life was also threatened?"
"Not really." said Edmund, not seeing what she was getting at. "Was it something mentioned when the wrongful-death lawsuit came up for the first time all those years ago?"
"Yes, I guess you wouldn't remember, you were little."
"Why are you bringing this up?"
"Because I think-actually I'm pretty sure-that Lucy was the other baby, Lyra being the first one."
"Oh god." Edmund's mouth suddenly tasted like melted copper shillings.
"I'm sorry, Edmund." she said, releasing her knees and letting her brother put his head on her lap-something he hadn't done since he was a child of about six or seven, but he needed the comfort at the moment.
The gesture was reassuring to Susan who had not had the familiarity of comforting her younger brother for such a long time. The last time they had been together, it was Edmund who'd had to do all of the saving and comforting, it was Susan who was upset and at a lost, but now the tables had turned into something a little easier for her. She was the strong one now.
"Susan?" His voice was faint, sad, but also filled with gratitude at the same time.
"Hmm?" was her reply as she glanced down at the fire-light landing on the pale, dark-haired head resting on her thighs, placing a gentle, rather motherly hand down on his slightly-moist brow, wiping away a small bead of sweat.
"I'm glad you told me," he said finally. "That you didn't try to hide it thinking it would hurt me too much if I knew."
"I thought about not telling you-I wasn't going to-but somehow I just..." Susan swallowed a round, hard lump forming in the centre of the lower part of her throat. "...I just knew you needed to know."
"Do you think I should tell Lucy?"
"No, I don't."
"Maybe you're right."
"Hey," her tone changed to a more melancholy one. "you know father wasn't all bad, right?"
"I wish I did." Edmund said honestly, never having really had anything good to cling onto about the man.
"He had a bad end...but...I always liked him...before that..." She sounded almost like she might cry.
"What was he like?" Edmund twisted his head half-way so that he could catch a glimpse of the expression on his sister's face out of the corner of one eye.
"You don't remember?"
"No, not really." He turned his head back the way it was before.
Susan smiled to herself, remembering. "He liked you a lot, you know."
"I didn't."
"Didn't what?" her brow crinkled and she paused, clearly a bit confused at his response.
"I didn't know that."
"Mother never told you about it, then?"
"Why would she?" He didn't say this bitterly, only in a very matter-a-fact sort of way.
"I was actually a little jealous of you back then because I felt that he always thought I was mother's and you were his, more than us all being one family-I wanted attention, too."
"I'm sorry," Edmund said, though he wasn't entirely sure what he was apologizing for.
"Don't be," Susan laughed at herself. "it had nothing to do with you personally."
"Nothing?"
"Well, not on my end, I mean."
Edmund chuckled at that. Then, "You know, I don't actually remember the evening he left to go to Lord Asriel's house."
Susan was glad enough of that; she remembered and she hated thinking about it. The sound of her mother crying; something glass-probably a vase of sorts-breaking; swearing on her father's part; and the cold, heartless, furious slam of the door that echoed in her young ears for weeks afterwards.
"I do remember the day after, though." Edmund added in a low, nearly inaudible tone.
This surprised her. "Really?" Clearly she was having her doubts as to whether or not he truly remembered or if he only thought he did, being too young to remember for real.
"You were sitting on the sofa with a picture dictionary, but you were still on the title-page by the time one in the afternoon rolled around, and you'd been sitting there since nine. And Maugrim-in the form of brown dog-was curled up at your side with his eyes closed, but he wasn't really sleeping."
That actually was what happened, almost exactly as Susan herself remembered it-only this version was seen with Edmund's eyes and not her own.
"I remember that around suppertime you wanted to see our mother but the servants wouldn't let you."
"I'm sorry I didn't talk to you for a week after that-if you remember those days, too." Susan had never thought of apologizing for this, figuring he didn't even remember, but now, she felt she owed him at least that much.
"I don't remember that part clearly, only a little." Edmund told her, blinking his eyes for no apparent reason. "Tell me, it was because I looked like our father even then, wasn't it?"
Susan felt a bit ashamed, but she pulled herself together and admitted it was the reason. Maugrim nudged Ella with a paw as if asking for her forgiveness, too.
After a little while, they fell asleep like that; Susan leaning her back against the bed post and Edmund's head still in her lap. Coming in and finding them about a half hour later, Peter smiled and pulled a blanket over Susan's shoulders, planting a quick kiss on her hairline. Actually daring to reach down and stroke Maugrim's ears as if it were as natural and safe as petting Doe, Peter turned to leave. He figured he might sleep with Lucy and keep her company-she must have been feeling lonesome being without Lyra for the first time in over four years.
In her room, listening to the rain which was just starting to fall lightly outside in the cool night air, tapping softly at the windowpane in a steady half-sound like a whispered lullaby, Lucy buried her head under her sheets-covered up to her nose, and stared up at the little pool of moonlight reflected on the ceiling off of the mirror at the other end of the room. Reepicheep was in the form of a small bandicoot, sleeping-or trying to sleep-on her pillow, feeling just as lost and anxious as his human did.
Both wondered what Lyra was doing just then at that very moment, and how Mrs. Coulter was treating her. Was she being kind? Or had her true nature come to light already? How far north would they go together? And without Lyra's help, how would Lucy and Reep ever figure out where Billy and Roger might be? In truth, Lucy thought-not without a horrified shiver-that if her guess as to who might have taken them was correct, they might be in Bolvangar-or else on their way there. Still, wasn't there some hope that that wasn't really the case? That this was a different sort of kidnapping, one less permanent? Or that the two boys had merely gotten themselves lost and would be back soon enough?
Lucy could feel tears siding down her face onto her pillow, but somehow she barely even noticed that she was crying; the wet drops felt just as external as the rain which was falling a bit heavier now outside, rattling the window's frame.
The door opened and Peter let himself in. Finding his sister crying (for of course he knew at once that was what she was doing) he climbed onto the other side of the bed and put his arm around her without a word. Comforted, Lucy pulled herself closer to him and, reaching up, grabbed onto Reepicheep's tail, clinging to it with one hand. Between her dæmon and her brother, nothing could touch her, nothing could hurt her. For as long as the three of them might rest there pressed up against one another, they were all perfectly safe. Sleep came gently now, like the hand of a friendly sandman placing his magical sand over tired eyelids, and hours ticked by, letting late night and midnight and the earliest hours of the morning arrive unannounced and quietly, the way they were always meant to come.
Strange, vague dreams of a Lion roaming about an empty land surrounded by a sort of grainy light which wasn't really light filled Lucy's mind in and out like a faded photogram until her eyes suddenly shot open of their own accord and she found she was back in her room, still sandwiched between Peter and Reepicheep. Something wrapped loudly at the window, but it was too intense and hard to be even the strongest bouts of wind and rain. Besides, most of the rain had let up a few hours back, it was pretty much only drizzle now-and drizzle couldn't make a sound like that.
Pulling herself out from under her brother's arm, and waking Reepicheep who shifted into a mouse with a golden band and red feather, Lucy stood up. She quickly threw on her dressing gown and cantered over to the window-latch; she figured that if anything went amiss, Peter was right there anyway. The moonlight and whatever reflective objects were in the room showed the face of a boy younger than Peter, younger than Edmund, even, but a just a bit older than herself-perhaps six months or a year or so. This boy was standing on the roof, looking tired and nervous, desperately trying to get her attention. His hair was golden, his eyes blue, and his skin-colour fair, white. For clothing, he seemed to be wearing something Gyptian-looking, but he did not appear to be a Gyptian himself.
"Lucy!" He exclaimed when the latch was finally opened.
"Who are you?" she asked, Reepicheep drawing his little sword just in case. "How do you know my name?"
"I'm a friend of the Gyptians," he said quickly. "My name's Shasta."
"What are you doing here?"
"I've come to warn you and your brother..." he spoke breathlessly now. "...Lord Rabadash has gathered up an army's worth of noblemen of his race to come down here, steal away the Lady Susan, and kill her husband and brother-I doubt they mean to spare you, either."
Lucy's eyes widened and Reepicheep shifted into a hawk, flying to his human's shoulder.
"I know all of this because he was betrayed by a niece, the Lady Aravis, who would have come herself, but she was wounded-a wild animal tore her back up pretty bad, and so only I could go and tell the Gyptians who employ my twin brother as a sort of cabin-boy of Lord Rabadash's plans."
"But what are we going to do?" Lucy wondered aloud, looking back towards the bed at Peter who was still asleep.
"Wake him up at once;" ordered Shasta shortly, but not unkindly. "A fleet of the Gyptians owned by Ma Costa and Farder Coram have agreed to hide the four of you-but you must hurry. Tell Peter to gather up his wife and brother-in-law as quickly as he can and then to sneak down to the bay where the Gyptian boats dock-from there, someone will be waiting to help you."
"Where will you go?" asked Lucy, feeling a little brave in spite of everything.
"I must go back to the inn where Lady Aravis is resting as soon as possible; I didn't have enough money to pay the staying fee for more than a week or two at most." Shasta explained, getting ready to leave the roof-tops now that he had warned Lucy of the coming danger. "Besides, if Lord Rabadash finds out where she is, he will probably try to have her captured and killed as a traitor."
"Then you should go," said Lucy with a firm nod. "I'll wake Peter and tell him."
"Good, but remember," Shasta gave one final warning before he vanished into the darkness of the early hour. "you must hurry, Lucy, Rabadash means to attack by dawn."
"What about the rest of the scholars?" Reepicheep worried, ruffling his dark feathers nervously. "Will Rabadash harm them?"
"I don't think so-he means only to disarm and bind everyone, killing only the three of you, taking Lady Susan, and then fleeing like the coward he is." Shasta called over his shoulder.
"He's gone, Reep." said Lucy as soon as she could no longer see the boy's retreating back. "Come on, let's wake Peter before it's too late."
AN: Please do not throw rotten fruit at me for ending the chapter there. LOL. Anyway, please review. (I mean it, put that mushy apple down right now!)