7 - Royalty, Rogues, and Mere Nobodies

If Aedan never traveled to a world outside Narnia again as long as he lived, it would be too soon. He stood on a beach outside some port town with his head aching fit to split open.

Not the town below Cair; he knew that town, each brick and stone, like the back of his hand. Moreover, it smelled different: all around were the scents of spice and black powder used in loading cannons. Common enough to a port town, but the balance of it was all wrong for Cair.

No, this was another port altogether, though by the number of fauns, satyrs, and the like, he assumed they had trade ties to Narnia. A few of the ships at anchor were Narnian, but just as many bore flags from Calormen or Archenland, Selbaran or …

A flag snapping at the top of one of the towers caught his eye. Ah, the Lone Islands. This, then, would be Narrowhaven on Doorn.

Aedan's mind went to his uncle Vandelar's father. He was a lord, and from what Aedan knew, not a nice man.

And he must find Maira. Where in Aslan's name could she be? Aedan sucked in a great deep breath, but couldn't find her scent among those sifted from the air.

A fist clenched his heart. Had he really just asked her to come with him to a completely unknown world, then left her alone here? What kind of king was he going to become if he couldn't care for one individual before needing to care for an entire country?

"Great lashing tail and twitching ears," he muttered, followed by a swift apology to Aslan for the disrespect. "If I don't find her, what sort of trouble is she going to get up to?" He began trotting toward the tower and its waving flag. The governor would no doubt provide him whatever assistance he requested.

Hopefully, beginning with a tonic for his splitting headache.

He stole a look again at the ships resting at anchor near the docks or offshore. What if Aslan had dropped her in the Great Eastern Ocean, out on some island too tiny for a name? Could you not have sent us here together and saved time? he fumed silently. Now he'd have to search for her and Farhan.

As he neared the port town, he had to dodge a stream of people, fauns, minotaurs, satyrs and hags hurrying out. Wincing against the chatter aggravating his aching head, he caught the arm of a passing faun. "What's happening?"

"A curse, they're saying," the faun said. "Some local lord has tweaked the nose of a magician from the Seven Isles, and now we've all got to pay for it."

"We're leaving," a passing minotaur grunted. "You best leave, too, an' you know what's good for ya."

The faun tried to escape as well, but Aedan stayed him with a firmer grip. "What curse?"

"Water's going scarce," the faun said, leaning away in the direction of the docks as if he were prepared to bolt.

"Water?" Aedan echoed. "There's water all round. It's an island!"

"Fresh water first, so as to starve out the lord and all his house. Then the sea will dry up," said the faun.

Aedan glanced around and saw that everyone was carrying jars and casks, as many as they could carry. How could any magician wield enough power to dry up the ocean? How could any lord have infuriated a magician that much? When the water ran dry, the magician himself would suffer. "I don't understand," Aedan murmured.

"Begging your pardon, but I don't have the answers. You might try the lord's house." The faun pointed at a spire on the town's western end. When Aedan turned to look, the faun slipped out of his grasp and away into the stream of fleeing folk.

With a resigned huff, Aedan started toward the house the faun had indicated. At the very least, the lord might have a pen and paper. At best, maybe he'd find a griffin to transport him back to Cair Paravel where he belonged. "I knew you were going to be trouble, Maira Singh," he muttered. "I wasn't ready for how much."

- # -

"Oh, my," Maira breathed as she emerged from the woods at the far end of the plain where she'd awoken.

An enormous castle rose from the expansive plain before her. The morning sun shone on the stones, turning them silvery. Beyond the gate rose a shining glass dome. All around was the fresh scent of the ocean, and somehow, it lifted her heart to catch it on the breeze.

She'd wakened on a plain beside a talking lion (Lion, she thought, with the capital L), and now, the largest castle she'd ever seen rose like a mountain before her. Maybe England was the dream all along, she thought, gaping at the gleaming stones of the castle. Now she was awake. Her nose and ears, her very skin, were all electrified by this place as if her senses knew better what to do about it than she.

On the plain before the castle gate were rows of creatures, goats, bulls, rams—standing on two legs! Wearing armor! Wielding swords, axes, spears! Maira should have been terrified, but her heart gave a great leap. She hurried toward the castle, following a stream of folk doing likewise along a well-trod road leading right up to the main gate.

No one contested her presence, even though she sported loose, rough-spun pants and a worn work shirt, positively modern attire compared to the medieval-looking tunics, dresses, and armor worn by the strange creatures all around her. In fact, some of them gave her a deferential nod. One or two of them addressed her as "mistress" as she passed. She certainly didn't feel like a "mistress," especially when she spotted the ethereal dresses worn by some of the women walking to and fro.

How strange.

The majority of the folk passing back and forth were headed along a market road leading past the castle. Some paused at the main gate, checked there by a pair of guards questioning them on their mission at the castle. Maira stood in line behind these and waited, wondering right up until she arrived at the head of the line what she should say.

"Business?" barked the guard, a ram-like creature with horns sprouting from clever cutouts in his helmet.

"I'm not sure," she murmured.

The guard squinted his eerie amber eyes at her. In some recess of her mind, Maira wondered why she wasn't frightened. Perhaps seeing the Lion first had steeled her against any shock another talking creature could have given her. "Have you business at the castle or not?" he demanded.

She straightened her spine and gave him stare for stare. "Yes. I am looking for Aedan Pevensie."

The guard's ears flattened against his helmet. "His Highness, Aedan Pevensie, isn't about to grant an audience to someone without the proper documentation."

"He'll see me," she insisted. "He's the one who brought me here."

The guard looked toward his fellow, standing on the other side of the main gate. The two exchanged what Maira thought was a very disrespectful look of doubt. "Then where is he?" asked her interrogator.

Maira lifted her chin. "We were separated when I arrived here. When I woke, I didn't see him, but I saw Aslan."

Both guards roared with laughter. The one in front of her wiped at his eyes, then slapped his chest as if that would stop his chortling. "You are a treat, miss, I'll give you that."

"How dare you?" a female voice interrupted.

The guards shot bolt upright at their posts and stared forward as though someone had jabbed them each with a hatpin.

A girl about Maira's age came toward the gate. She wore armor similar to that of the guards, but hers was more finely crafted, with leggings and a molded leather cuirass with gilt edges. A lion-headed medallion rested at each shoulder, from which hung a short, crimson velvet cape. Her light-brown hair was bound in a thick braid that circled her head like a tiara. "The name of Aslan is nothing to laugh over," the girl said.

The first guard bowed to her. "Begging your pardon, Your Highness. I mean, Captain. I mean—"

"Captain," the girl said sharply, "and you should be begging Aslan's pardon for the rudeness to Himself and this lady."

"Yes, Captain." The guard tugged at his beard, then bowed his head to Maira. "Begging pardon of Aslan and yourself, mistress."

"That's all right," Maira said, now feeling a bit sorry for the guard. She'd have felt a bit off-center if someone had told her they'd met a talking Lion this morning.

Your Highness, the guards had said. Another member of royalty. Maira remembered her manners and made the best curtsy she could without having received any training.

The girl in the cape beckoned with an outstretched hand from inside the gate. Her hazel-blue eyes crinkled in her pale, freckled face. "Don't bother with all that. I'm not so stuck on titles as I let on to them. Come. Let's see what my good cousin wants with you."

Maira slipped inside and joined the Captain. "Thank you."

The girl eyed her. "You're not Aedan's usual type," she said lightly. "No offense meant."

A little taken aback, Maira responded, "What type might that be?"

The girl laughed. "As I said, no offense meant. I'm pleased to see him trading up to someone who seems to have more mettle."

"I'm not attached to him," Maira blurted. "I'm not a type at all. He's helping me find my brother."

The girl's brows arched. "A quest. How very … unlike him … and delightful."

A wiry young man in green leather scurried up to them. His belt bristled with blades, just as his short, white-blond hair bristled atop his scalp. He darted yellow eyes at them. Maira raised her brows when she saw his pupils were slitted like a cat's, and that two short, twisting horns sprouted from the thatch of hair. "Who's this, then?" he asked.

The girl clapped a hand against his chest, preventing him from getting closer. "This is a guest," she declared, "and you mind your manners, Puck Rifkin."

The young man executed a grandiose and breathtakingly graceful bow. "My humblest apologies. Welcome to Cair Paravel, my lllllady." He flung his arm out as though sweeping back an invisible cloak.

The girl groaned and aimed a boot at his shin. "Puck!"

The young man sprang upright, all business. He reached for Maira's hand, then dusted the lightest of kisses across her knuckles. "Lieutenant Rifkin at your service, mistress. Everything Captain M'Haven-Pevensie says about me is an abject lie unless it's about my good looks."

The girl shared at wry look with Maira. "It's Aurora," she said. "You can call me Rory." She linked her arm through Maira's. "Let's go see my uncle. Anyone who can get Aedan Pevensie to pick up a quest instead of a conquest is bound to be a wonder to us all."