"Oh, hang it all."

Edmund slumped over the table with his head on his folded arms. A candle sat on the table, throwing shadows against the library's shelves. "We've been here since supper, and we're no closer to making a decision than we were before. I say we make up our own mind—"

"You can't do that, Ed. The law's the law, whether we like it or not." Peter ran a hand over his heavy eyes and leaned back in his chair. "Besides, we both know why we're here. You're trying to rationalize what you're doing. (Rather, what you're not doing.)"

"How can I go through with it? We're talking about putting a chap in the dungeon. That's not the sort of thing we can take lightly. On top of that, it's for the crime—if you want to call it a crime—of speaking his mind!"

Peter rolled his eyes. "For the hundredth time, he wasn't speaking his mind. Remember what he said to you? 'Tell me to leave this castle one more time, and you'll drop dead. And by the way, your Aslan can take that law of his, and he can shove it up his golden arse.'"

Edmund couldn't resist a smirk.

"No wonder you're siding with him. You're just as beastly."

"C'mon, Peter. Don't you see the humor of it all? The puma staggers in, drunk. He belches in front of the four of us. He rants for fifteen minutes about nothing, tells us Aslan can take a law and shove it up his fundament—and then in a grand finale, he chunders all over the floor!"

Peter went a little green at that.

"Peter, I'm not siding with him. I love Aslan just as much as you—maybe even more, after everything he did for me. But that doesn't mean we can't give the puma a little slack. We ought to see if he shapes up."

"He's not going to shape up, Ed. What he did was treason; you don't just commit that on a whim."

"But to throw him in the dungeon for this?"

"That's what the law says!" Peter pulled a meaty book across the table and whipped a stack of pages away. "'Seditious and treasonous words are punishable by any or all of the following: 30 days' incarceration in the dungeon of Cair Paravel, 60 days' banishment and isolation in Glasswater, or death.'" He slapped the page with his hand. "I've shown you this four times. Fifth one's not going to change anything!"

"Those laws were written when the world was founded. Aslan had to write them just to keep people from going batty and falling in with the Witch. Now that she's dead, maybe the rules have changed."

"Like what? Name one thing that's changed."

The Just King didn't look him in the face. "I'm still learning the ins and outs of the law, Peter—"

"All right, then learn this: Since the puma spoke to you, you're the one who's got to carry out the sentence."

Edmund blanched and leaned back in his chair, and without warning, his face curled in pain. "I can't do it."

"Ed, you have to."

"I know what the law says, Peter. But I can't just go about jailing someone for this."

"Then if you won't do it, I will. That puma's going to the dungeon for thirty days for drunkenness and disturbing the peace. Reckon he'll have enough time to get his head on straight—"

"He won't be incarcerated," said a heavy golden voice.

The boys flinched and leapt out of their chairs at once. The Lion appeared from out of nowhere, padding between the stacks of shelves on silent paws.

Both boys gave him a bow, but quickly rose up. Any deeper, and their centers of gravity would have drifted too far over their trembling legs. "What...what do we do, Sir?" Peter's voice was as wobbly as his legs. "Do we banish him to Glasswater?"

The Lion stared back, and his face grew dark and stern.

"By gum," said Peter. "You want us to kill him..."

"It has to be done," said the Lion.

Edmund's mouth went open and shut gulping for words. "But Sir...couldn't we just charge him with disturbing the peace?"

"If that were all he did, it would be within your right. He has committed high treason; incarceration and banishment will not be enough."

"But Sir...he was just speaking his mind."

The Lion's face went even darker. "He was not speaking against my constables, nor my soldiers, nor against you. He spoke against me."

"But he was drunk," said Edmund. "He couldn't have meant what he said. I say we give him thirty days, just to give him a chance to come 'round—"

"YOU SILLY LITTLE FOOL!" The Lion shoved a paw into Edmund's chest and pinned him against the bookcase, making the boy's eyes bulge out. "I gave my life for you, and this is how you repay me?"

Edmund trembled and gulped for breath, staring at the Lion's gnashing teeth. "He doesn't deserve it!"

"Do you think you know the caverns of the heart? You, who don't even understand half the things you do? I've known him since before you set foot in this country. The desecrator has spoken against me since the day he was born. He has sworn by my mane without thought or regard. He has insulted my father. He has defied my laws. If I let him carry on, he will corrupt everyone who hears him, and I will not let anyone corrupt my sweet country, be he a lowly drunk or a lofty King. Either you make that puma an example to Narnia...or you will be the example. Is that clear?"

The slightest hints of his claws came out of his paw, poking into Edmund's shirt. Edmund gawked at him with mouth and eyes wide.

"I said...is that clear?"

Edmund stole another breath, then pulled his mouth shut and jerked his head.

The Lion lifted the paw from Edmund's chest, and with a roar and a blaze of golden light, he vanished into nothing. The library fell back into silence, and Edmund and Peter slumped against the shelves.

"Fancy that," said Edmund. "Love brings you into the fold, and fear keeps you there." He put a hand to his chest and kept gulping air. "Peter...what are we going to do?"

The High King gave no answer. He stared back at Edmund, mouth hanging halfway open.

THE END