Chapter 6: Esme and Tobermory

Queen Esme sighed, rubbed her eyes wearily and pushed aside the papers she had been studying at the tall window of her private apartment that flooded her desk with light.

The demands of government were never ending for the monarch of Archenland. From the solving of merchant disputes and neighbourly village misunderstandings to international diplomacy and trade, to mishaps and murders, it was all in a week's work.

She truly felt honoured and blessed to have been born to the task of arbitrator and magistrate. It called to her natural instincts.

But having been thrust into the task untimely by the death of her father in a hunting accident only 5 months ago, she did at times feel a need for greater guidance in a challenging world.

So many small concerns to be seen to in this small but complex nation which sat between the two wildly disparate ones of Narnia and Calormen. Despite Calormen originally being established by outlaws from Archenland, and therefore Archenland's natural antagonist, her reading of history and recent experience told her that Archenland actually stood as a buffer state, often playing intermediary between the idealistic and idyllic Narnia and their expansive and hotheaded mutual southern neighbour.

"Oh, Aslan, give me guidance and courage", she prayed, with her hand palm upwards, heel to the forehead, then gazing up at the carving of the great lion carved into the keystone over the long window.

She then took a long draught of her now cold tisane and stood stretching, feeling the joints pop as she eased some tension in her upper back and shoulders. She massaged her jaw and yawned, looking out the tall window, which gave her a clear view down the firth of the Winding Arrow.

The shipping had thinned, just a few small boats at anchor at the the oyster farms which here and there raked the edges of the southern bank. She could just glimpse the bluff of the southern headland behind the forest-cloaked hills of the northern side.

It was then that she heard a discrete cough and she whirled, a quill and papers scattering. "Silly!" she chided herself, she had courtiers stationed right outside every door, "no need to react so strongly". Bizarrely, in that split second, she also realised she still had not established her general character as Queen; cool as a cucumber, warm and vivacious or imperious and commanding. So she did not have an appropriate response for what met her eyes.

Sitting sedately on the plump couch in the middle of the chamber was a large smoke-grey wild cat with torn ears. Yellow eyes with pupils slitted in the morning sunlight flooding from the window gazed at her intently.

"I prefer to not be announced into your Royal presence if I can help it" he said drily. "Some matters are best kept so discrete that the nature of the messenger also has to remain secret."

She eyed his dimensions, teeth and claws speculatively. If he was an assassin, he could do her some serious damage, but if he had been an assassin, surely he would have just attacked first?

She decided on imperious and commanding. "And you are?", her eyes never leaving his. "How long have you been in my Royal presence... sir! Answer me now, or I shall call my guards."

"Certainly your Majesty, I slipped in just now. Calling your guards wouldn't do much good. My paths of egress from this august establishment are hard by and I know them too well to be caught. Besides I wouldn't be able to deliver the message as comfortably as I intend to do. Why don't you sit down and listen to what I have to say? I'm sure both our days will be much easier if we can proceed with this first interview in comfort.

Esme blinked and swallowed. An imperterbible drawling wildcat in her inner apartments was a new experience for her. And somehow she doubted that last statement. "Very well, master cat, you have 10 minutes". She picked one of a series of sand glasses and upended it smartly on a small table.

"Good, I knew you'd see sense. You're much like your father. Well, I'll come to the point. My name in spy circles is Tobermory. My business is the security of Archenland. My methods are dubious. My length of service is, let's see, umm, eight years now, nearly 15 times the period that has passed since your dear father, departed from this world for Aslan's country."

"I entered your father's service as a ratter when I was barely one year old; I can get to places those silly terriers can't and I saw and heard things in these places that would make your hair stand on end. That was when I decided to join your father's spy network."

"He took some convincing I must say. But a talking wildcat like me who knows when to stop talking, who can keep his mouth shut and can pretend to be one of my poor benighted dumb cousins can get a long way in the wild."

"I have worked steadfastly in Archenland's service ever since. I am sorry that we have never been introduced before and I am very sorry indeed that I gave you such a surprise a few moments ago. A professional liability I'm afraid."

"Indeed it is", she reflected quietly. But there was no evidence that he knew how to stop talking that she could detect so far. Still, he was here to talk, nay to report; if his story could be believed.

Esme decided she definitely did not want to imagine what things he had seen and heard in the inaccessible places which rats inhabited. But she did wonder what motivated a cat, even a talking wildcat to bother entering the spy service of Archenland and what possible benefits it could gain. Money would hardly be an object. She must find out.

She kept listening to this remarkable apparition. He lowered his voice.

"My news is for your ears alone Your Majesty. Whom you choose to share it with locally and in the hierarchy is of course your royal prerogative, but I would strongly advise extreme caution. There is evidence that forces of ill will are infiltrating the marches of Telmar and Western Archenland."

"It is even possible that there may even be those here in Armouthe and the closer provincial areas who are not to be trusted."

"Your other spies will be better able to report on that front. I was sent on my most recent mission nearly one year ago based on a very slim lead. I have had many adventures of which I would rather not speak but I must report that the lead is no longer slim but clear and strong. I can now report we have enemies on our doorstep, nay under our very noses. I do not know their final object, but I believe it is bigger than Archenland. It may even be nothing less than the subjugation of Narnia, Archenland, Telmar, Calormen, Ettinsmoor and all the Island nations. I did return yesterday morning, and I beg your majesty's pardon; I would have come to you sooner, only your palace cats are better guards than I took them for.

He licked a paw and wiped it across his left ear. A bead of blood still glistened there.

He really was a complex person, she realised. His verbal urbanity and grammar suggested private tutoring, yet he was no house cat. He was clearly a Wildcat, a catamountain to be sure, who seemed to have roamed far and suffered much.

Esme decided she needed to take him on face value. "Why now and not earlier?" Esme queried.

"Well, it is quite a trek. As you know, the Western March lies on the other end of the entire Archen Range which is at least a full month's journey even for a sturdy mountain pony and I did travel into the northern side right into the Western Wild. I had to go into semi-hibernation for most of last winter too, which was unfortunate."

"Why do you say unfortunate sir? I would have considered it a most natural pastime for your kind."

"Oh, certainly it is, hard to resist really, nothing like the deep slumber of winter, but it was unfortunate because it's in winter that those I am concerned about are most active."

Esme must have looked slightly puzzled. In her experience everything slowed down in winter and she couldn't imagine what or whom could be more active in it.

Oh, you don't know the worst of it yet" he drawled, eyeing her almost pityingly.

"But what human or Talking Beast ever gets more active in winter?", she whispered. Now she was agog.

"Well, it's a delicate matter. I'm not sure I can manage it right this moment. I'm frightfully scared you won't believe me".

Now Tobermory (or Cloudstreak) really began to wash his face in earnest. It was the first indication that Esme had had of any lack of equilibrium in the creature. This was clearly difficult for him. She opted for supportive and encouraging, but formal.

"Pray tell, good sir. As I am the Queen, the person you ultimately report to, I must beg you to share the source of your discomfort. Whilst your deportment and manner of entrance may be... unorthodox... I do think that you have adequately demonstrated your... veracity. In short, I believe you."

He sighed. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. There, however horrible the source of this threat may appear to you, believe me, I am sure that I shall be able to bear it."

Tobermory looked at her for a long moment, and began licking his belly frantically.

Irritated, Esme unconsciously opted for imperious and demanding.

"Master cat, I demand that you complete your mission and disclose the nature of the threat you are avoiding telling me... now!" She realised she had lost her cool as a cucumber and was shouting.

"Ssshshhh", he hissed, Esme wondered if he realised he had bared his teeth to her.

"Alright, alright not so loud." He paused, swallowing and cleared his throat. It all came out in a tumble. "What would you say if I said 'Werwolves... Spectres, Boggles, Hags, Orkneys, Efreets, Minotaurs, Incubuses, Giant Vampire Bats... oh, and people of the toadstools?" He glanced at her warily. "Alright, I think I've said enough." He licked his front legs frantically.

She didn't say anything. She was glaring at him.

Then she looked away, her mouth working. Esme went pink, then white. Then with her eyes starting in her head, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

This cat was such a fraud, so much was clear. For a moment she had been taken in by that fanciful rubbish. The joke had been on her. She stood, her heart beating hard and poured herself a little wine and water to steady herself. The ten minute glass had long since stopped.

She found herself considering a fitting punishment that was within Archen law. This mischievous cat really ought to be held in the royal prison and questioned most assertively for entering her apartment without royal invitation and threatening her person, she could see to that.

She felt like putting him in some cat sized stocks but that was punishment strictly for convicted rapists.

He was still watching her warily.

"Oh dear, look, before you do anything rash, please, I beg you to read a document that concerns me closely. Your father filed a secret paper in a hidden compartment in his desk. I saw him put it there 5 years ago."

He leapt down from the couch and trotted over to her desk. He went underneath to the panel between the two left legs and patted a square of the mullioned design.

She momentarily considered sending for a courtier to perform the task of opening the panel, and then groaned when she realised that this entire desk could be filled with items of utmost secrecy and that she would have to do it herself.

She scrambled down on her knees. Her robes impeded her slightly. It was the central panel of nine. She felt it carefully and pressed a little. It gave slightly on one side. This enabled her to get her finger nails in and she found it had a thin groove she could grasp and use it to slide the panel towards her.

To her relief it gave a little then slid neatly out the way. It was a small space, only four inches wide and two inches deep. Inside was a small folded parchment. Esme felt for it with her fingers, managed to flip it out where it fell on the floor. She then backed out from under the desk, swept it out with a toe and picked it up.

It was waxed with the royal seal. She grabbed a blunt knife from the desk and slid it under the seal and unfolded the paper. Written in her father's own hand was the following note:

"On this day, the 20th day of Greenroof, in the year 893, I King Erlian of Archenland did witness the swearing to the service of myself and mine heirs, one Tobermory Thincoat, a Talking Cat of unparalleled talent, truth and discretion, as spy. He has been taught the secret ways into and out of the castle of Armouthe and of Anvard so that he may come to myself or my heir at any time of day or night should we be in residence."

Queen Esme tapped her foot. "So my father has vouched for you and now I must accept your service too and your word I suppose. But you know this really this is too much! Efreets and Orknies? Sprites and what? Whoever heard of such things? Minotaurs? What fanciful rabble. I have heard of werwolves, it is true. I need advice on this. And who else is aware of your existence? Please hide for a few moments. I want you to hear what happens but I don't want you seen. Yet".

Tobermory instantly obeyed, disappearing under one of credenzas to the left of the window, partly shrouded by a curtain.

From here he murmured,

"The head of the Archen Spy Network, Grand Raven Greyfeather knows of my existence and my identity. This has been kept clandestine from all but her."

"I have certainly taken orders from her under an assumed name (I have several of those) through intermediaries. Weasels and stoats mainly for they rarely have a clue what she's talking about and when they do, they can't keep a memory for more than 2 hours. Minds like sieves. Too easily distracted. They're paid off with a fat rabbit. Alive."

"She also has to do some special work on them first; the eye of Tash we call it. You know when a bird sidles up real close and fixes its eye on something? Well she tried it on me once and I nearly forgot who I was for a few minutes. I don't let her get that close any more. I have two human friends in Armouthe who know I have business here but I have not miaowed a word of what I've seen and heard to them. Oh no."

"Queen Esme shivered. Spies did unpleasant work. She wished she didn't have to know. brushed her robes down. Damn this cat. Her thoughts were scattering . The underside of her desk was definitely in need of a clean. The chatelaine had been sorely bereft following the death and funeral of King Erlian and had not yet composed herself to see to the inner apartment of the monarch. Esme and her inner circle of advisors had been sifting through things. It was about time for some further discipline."

She composed herself and pulled a nearby bellcord. Instantly, a door on the far end of the room swung ajar and a figure slipped in and padded softly down the room. It was a slight young man in a brown tunic and emroidered tabard with grey-green sleeves and hose and brown calf length boots. He bowed slightly as he came to attention ten feet away. He carried a slate and a fine white pencil, poised for action.

"Oh yes Fram, please inform Loremaster Lombard and Lord Cor that I need them to attend me here at the third bell after nooning. This can't wait. There is a change of plan. I was to see the chatelaine of Anvard about the autumn feast, but he'll have to wait till some other time. I can't put off the ambassador of Terebinthia and his trade delegation that I am to see over luncheon, but I am distracted and I need support."

She took a breath, thinking. The pencil flew, scratching on the slate rapidly.

"Send for my first cousin Prince Ronin. I don't care where he is or what he's doing. I'll need him in the smaller state reception room by the first bell. I'll need his help with this. Ronin's got a good manner with foreign dignitaries. They prefer a man."

"Remind him to try hard for, let's see clearing out half the olive oil warehouse stocks and as little of the surplus lumber as possible and a moderate consignment of blank bound books in exchange for as much of the Terebinthian wine and healing herbs and fabrics they trade in as possible. There."

She thought a little more and said with a laugh, "Oh, and it's probably time to raise their hopes of providing a consort to the unwed monarch of this country".

The pencil was still scratching.

"Now, something urgent. I need Grand Spymaster Raven Greyfeather here on the double. Send the entire flock of messenger birds to find her if you must. I'm opening the window so she can come straight in. That's all I can think of right now. Off you go."

She had less than an hour before the luncheon and needed to breathe and think. She closed here eyes. "Oh Aslan, give me courage and strength" she intoned under her breath again, then opened her eyes and gazed full upon the lion keystone.

"Master cat!"

There was no answer.

"Damn that cat", she thought, "is he hoaxing me or has he just decided to absent himself considerately while I take a breath? Or is he just an arrogant inconsiderate self promoter who just wanted an audience with the Queen?"

Either way she needed Greyfeather here to explain some things. She bent over the desk to straighten her papers and make sure her seals had been affixed well. She put them all into a leather folder marked ERA, sighed and then stood waiting, looking down the firth. She relished this moment of peace and wondered how she would comport herself in this next encounter.

But after fifteen seconds, a fierce caterwauling, a screeching and a thumping sound broke out from behind the curtains, as a tumbling mass of fur and claws and tails hurtled across the room, bumping into furniture, knocking a lampstand and rucking the rug.

Doors burst open from 3 directions, servants came running, one blur of brown fur streaked up a curtain, another larger blur jumped up and clawed it down, and a huge raven flew in at the window and alighted on the back of the couch, taking in the scene momentarily before diving into the fray.

Moments later the cat crouched panting heavily, it's claws and body pinning another body to the floor, it's jaws around the back of an animal's neck. The Raven stood, quivering slightly, her blue-white eyes fixed beadily on the face of the captive, one claw on its neck.

The captive squirmed a little, chest heaving, but it had stopped struggling, almost like it had been stuck by a pin.

After the initial shock, everyone gathered around closer. One of the courtiers pulled a dagger from his boot and held it to the creature's belly. Neither Tobermory nor Greyfeather relaxed their hold.

Someone put down Esme after they realised that it had not been her under attack, apologising profusely.

Tobermory had accosted what looked like a very large rat and Greyfeather it seemed had just managed to get it hypnotised.

Shaken and a little sickened, the humans edged even closer, peering down. The red eyes of the rat bulged and its sharp yellow teeth protruded, its face flecked with blood.

"Who are you?" rasped the Raven out of the side of her murderous beak, poised in a deadly stance over the rat's throat. "You will answer me... who are you?"

There was a pause then the rat spoke in a horrible grey squeaking voice spoke. "I am of the chosen".

"What have you been chosen to do?"

"What have I not been chosen to do?", the rat wheazed out a laugh, its tail wriggling like an earthworm.

"Answer me!" The Raven was not going to lose control.

"To... to... to mark the path." Twitch.

"The path to where and for whom?"

"The path to the... the... tree, for... for... she who comes" Twitch.

"Which tree?

"The Tree of Protection in Narnia."

"Who needs this path?"

"We call her The White Lady"

"Why does she need to get to the Tree?"

"To make it shut up!" Twitch twitch twitch.

"The White Lady... who is she?", growled Tobermory.

The rat panted now and tried not to speak, but rasped out, "She is the s-s-sealer of lips... the b-b-b-inder of l-l-legs... the frrrreezer of hearts. She brings freedom to the hated and despised, those from the far north, from the deep places, from the far wastes... those considered vermin."

"What is this White Lady's name and where is she?"

"I cannot say."

"Tell me!"

"Tell me!"

"Her name is... J-J-J-". The rat twitched, twitched again and a moment later was still and cold.

It had turned to stone.