Chapter 9: The Utter East

The sun was setting behind them in the most extraordinary blaze of colors. It wasn't just pinks and golds in the sky but deep and vibrant purples and oranges, and each color was fiercer and more real than he had ever seen before. The whole sky spread out behind him with an immensity that seemed to echo all their long voyage. Looking at the glowing sun as it melted into the dark ocean gave Caspian a headache, but he couldn't look away. It was too beautiful.

What finally did get him to turn was the cry of "Land in sight!" Then he rushed forward to lean over the railings and see what looked like a country on fire, set alight by the sinking sun.

"Oh!" he heard Lucy breathe nearby. He thought she might continue, but words had failed her.

The Dawn Treader looked for a place to put in, but they had to sail some way along the coast looking for a harbor. The advantage to this was that they could look back and see the shape of the country silhouetted against the fiery sky. Caspian could see it was a gentle country, all low hills and soft valleys that contrasted sharply with all the places they'd visited so far. It was more natural than the peopled and explored Lone Islands, softer than Dragon Island, less ominous than Deathwater. He could not imagine any such dwelling as Coriakin's house on this island.

Eustace sniffed. "What is that smell?" he asked.

"It's lovely," Lucy said. "A dim, purple kind of smell."

"It might be rot," Edmund suggested practically.

"No," Caspian said. "It's more…I know what you mean, Lucy."

Just as the island had no high, sharp mountains, it also lacked a deep harbor. The best the crew could find was a shallow bay. The sea had been very calm, but waves were breaking on this shore, and they tossed the boat upon the sand. As the party moved away from the beach, the sound of the waves was musical but remote. Though he was surrounded by people, the ceaseless soft crashing made Caspian feel lonely and filled him with a beautiful sort of melancholy. He didn't know if he liked the effect this country had upon him, and he found he wanted to walk with Lucy.

He hadn't intended to walk far. He thought they might get a lay of the land and then turn back to spend the night on the ship. He should have known by then that no island in the uncharted east was an ordinary island and every simple exploration would yield some strange discovery. They found the sleepers at a table with the most glorious feast he could ever have imagined. The ship's company was struck dumb by the sight.

Edmund thought it odd that they had been sleeping so long to let their hair grow so that it twined among the plates and cups and cataracts of fruit. Lucy added thoughtfully, "It must be an enchanted sleep. I felt the moment we landed on this island that it was full of magic. Oh! Do you think we have perhaps come here to break it?"

Caspian smiled at her, for once again she had expressed aloud the very thing he had been thinking. "We can try," he said, and shook the nearest sleeper.

He hadn't really expected it to work; he knew enchantments took much more to break. Still, the attempt yielded interesting results, as each of the sleepers said something.

Drinian echoed the most interesting comment. "Out oars for Narnia, eh?"

"Yes," he answered, "you are right, Drinian. I think our quest is at an end." As he stooped to examine the rings of each of the men, the queerest feeling rushed into him. He had begun to feel the voyage might go on forever, that they would always be seeking the end of the quest, and as long as they were looking for the lords he could not be chided for breaking a vow to Narnia. Now, however, it was clear that the moment had come. Short of waking the lords, Caspian had fulfilled his oath, and his kingship was pulling him home. The rush of success was greatly tempered by the end of adventures.

After some debate and some uncertainty he stayed the night by the sleeping lords, along with Reepicheep (who was the first to propose staying, of course), Edmund, Eustace, and Lucy. They all chose their seats carefully, even Reepicheep, for the lords seemed barely human and since the place was so full of magic that anything might happen. He didn't want to be too close to the sleepers, but sitting too far away where he couldn't see them and they could…well, Reepicheep might be able to brave anything, but Caspian's imagination overpowered him sometimes.

There was a chill in the quiet air as they settled into their places. He could still hear the breakers on the shore. They wrapped themselves in their sea cloaks and stared at each other between the pyramids of fruit and plates of food.

At first they tried to talk. "Do you really think the food put them in this sleep?" Lucy asked. "It looks so lovely: such a feast can't be evil magic."

"It's precisely because it looks so lovely that I should say the food worked upon them," Edmund said at once, and in a very serious voice. "There are a lot of things in this world that can seem fair but are foul."

Lucy caught some significance in this statement. She made an "Oh" with her mouth and leaned back in her chair and said no more. Caspian could not help but feel he missed something.

Eventually they all fell silent. Caspian reached for Lucy's hand and found that she had stretched hers out to meet him halfway. Her fingers were cold and he noticed that her hand was small in his, but there was still comfort in her touch.

After awhile his eyes fluttered shut and he fell asleep. It was a light sleep with fleeting dreams of quarrels and sailing west. In one, Lucy stood between him and Edmund, and he was arguing with the king, but he didn't know why. In another, Reepicheep told him "I'll awake the lords. You go back home to Narnia. That's a good boy." Then Lucy was swimming in the water, and he reached out for her, but she slipped beyond his grasp and beneath the waves.

He woke with a start to find that it was still a black, dark night, but all the stars had changed positions. Of the new constellations that he and Lucy had named, only the Sword still burned in the north. The Cordial was just setting in the east. The sky was now unfamiliar and, seen from that land, eerie. There was the faintest gray suggestion of dawn in the east. He looked around the table and saw that everyone was awake and staring as if they too had been dozing. "It's so cold," Lucy whispered, so quietly that Caspian was sure he was the only one who had heard her. He still held her hand; he clasped it tighter.

Now the magic of the island began to show itself. In the low hillside opposite them a door opened and a figure emerged bearing a candle. Caspian stared hard through the darkness trying to see something of this person, but he could discern nothing but the light they held. This figure drew nearer, and presently Caspian could see that it was a woman, a young woman with flowing golden hair the color of a pale winter sun. She was dressed in a blue that matched the transparency of her eyes, and yet there was something inscrutable in her gaze. In all the works of art Caspian had ever seen, she was the most fair, a living work of alabaster, fairer than Queen Susan. She was so beautiful it startled him. He felt as though someone had struck him in the chest, stopped his heart for a second.

Reepicheep was on his feet at once. Caspian let go of Lucy's hand and staggered to his feet. The others followed suit.

She spoke. "Travelers who have come far to Aslan's Table, why do you not eat and drink?"

Caspian answered because her eyes were boring into him, sharp and clear as the stars themselves. "Madam," he said, "we feared the food because we thought it had cast our friends into an enchanted sleep."

"They have never tasted it," she answered. Her voice was melodic, almost unnaturally so. Every time she spoke it seemed as though she were creating a new song.

All the while, her eyes were fixed on Caspian until Lucy spoke. "Please," she said, "What happened to them?"

The lady broke her gaze with Caspian and looked at Lucy and the rest of the company as she told of the quarrel of the travelers. She spoke of a Knife of Stone, and Eustace wanted to know what this was. Her glance fell on the table near where she had set the light, and Caspian followed her eyes. He noticed for the first time in all the hours they had been there that a curious and cruel looking knife lay among the gay feast.

"Do none of you know it?" she asked, always with her powerfully musical voice.

"I—I think," said Lucy, "I've seen something like it before. It was a knife like it that the White Witch used to kill Aslan at the Stone Table long ago."

"It was the same," the lady answered with an incline of her head "and it was brought her to be kept in honor while the world lasts."

Caspian's eyes shuttled between these two women. He had gotten to his feet before this nameless lady of incomparable beauty because he felt she was great, yet at his side was one of the greatest Queens Narnia had ever known. Lucy had defended his nation against the White Witch, a force far more terrible than his petty uncle. This woman before him spoke of the Knife as if she knew the story well, but Lucy had been there. She had seen Aslan die, and she had seen him renewed. It was she and her sister alone of all the people in history who had heard the Stone Table crack and saw Aslan renewed. Doctor Cornelius had translated the writing on the walls of Aslan's How one night while they lay in wait for help to come, and it told of that moment, and of Lucy. Why was it that Caspian had never realized this before? He was on his feet before this yellow-haired woman, but he ought to be on his knees before the golden-haired queen.

Edmund drew him from these thoughts. His mouth was very red and his eyes looked troubled as he addressed the lady in blue. "Look here," he said, "I hope I'm not a coward—about eating this food, I mean—and I'm sure I don't mean to be rude. But we have had a lot of queer adventures on this voyage of ours and things aren't always what they seem. When I look in your face I can't help believing all you say: but then that's just what just might happen with a witch, too. How are we to know you're a friend?" Again, as Edmund spoke, Caspian had the feeling he was missing some significance in the words. He did not doubt this woman, but he wondered that Edmund might.

She fixed her eyes on Edmund "You can't know," she said. "You can only believe—or not."

Edmund returned her gaze, considering her carefully. Reepicheep piped up. "Sire," he said, addressing Caspian, "of your courtesy fill my cup with wine from that flagon: it is too big for me to lift. I will drink to the lady."

As he obeyed Reepicheep's request, he noticed that Edmund have him a swift sidelong glance. Reepicheep pledged the young woman with his glass, though Caspian was hard pressed to remember the last time he had pledged Lucy. They all began to eat.

"Why is it called Aslan's Table?" Lucy asked. Caspian smiled at her. She was the explorer: she asked all the questions.

"It is set here by his bidding for those who come this far," the girl answered, and he could understand even less in her eyes as she looked at Lucy. "Some call this island the World's End, for though you can sail further, this is the beginning of the end."

Caspian felt a thrill run through him like a current. He exchanged a glance with Reepicheep and saw his own excitement reflected in the mouse's eyes. He had wanted to find the lords, but his deeper dream he shared with Reepicheep; he wanted to see the end of the world. This woman renewed his hope. Perhaps the adventure could go on after all. He scarcely heard the question Eustace asked. Still, he had to make sure he fulfilled his first oath, and he spoke to the lady.

"And what are we to do about the Sleepers?" he asked. "In the worlds from which my friends come, they have a story of a prince or a king coming to a castle where all the people lay in an enchanted sleep. In that story he could not dissolve the enchantment until he had kissed the princess." He gave Lucy a sidelong glance and a quick smile. It was she, after all who taught him the story during one of their long conversations together during the storm. She said nothing, but he saw in her eyes that she was pleased he remembered so well.

The lady seemed to take a different meaning from Caspian's words. "But here it is different. Here he cannot kiss the princess till he has dissolved the enchantment," she said, looking directly into his eyes so hard that for a second he could see behind her veiled expression.

Caspian's insides jumped. Had he said more than he meant to? What was the meaning of her placid smile? Still, he latched on to the most important part, that it was in his power to awaken these Sleepers, that Lucy was right after all: they had come to break the enchantment. "Then in the name of Aslan, show me how to set about that work at once," he said, using the same ringing voice with which he had shown his mastery over Gumpas.

"My father will teach you that," she replied, and Caspian was unsure if he was frustrated or intrigued by all her mystery.

Before he could really begin to wonder about her father, the man appeared, shimmering in the grayness before the dawn. The woman said nothing further but joined hands with her father. Facing the east, they both opened their mouths to sing. It was a song like Caspian had never heard before, high and piercing and extremely beautiful, but also cold and remote. It was a song filled with the magic of the island, or a song that filled the island with its magic. Either way, Caspian was sure they were connected. He was not at all astonished that this woman could sing like this, for she had appeared remote and mystical to him all this while.

The song went on, and Caspian found he was holding Lucy's hand again with no memory of the actual moment when he had taken it. He did not turn to look at her, but he already knew the expression of wonderment written across her face.

Then at last the gray turned to white, and then pink, and as the father and daughter reached the highest, most piercing note, the sun rose from the edge of the ocean, and its first rays shot down the table and illuminated the stone knife. Caspian remembered that moment for the rest of his life, because he would never again feel such fear and awe and wonder and excitement all at the same time. Lucy gripped his hand very tightly.

After the sunrise came the birds, white birds echoing the song in human voices, birds that covered everything and took away the remains of the feast, so that when they left and the sunrise was over, there was nothing on the table but glittering gold and silver and the dull, severe color of the Stone Knife.

The old man turned to them and said "Welcome, travelers to the World's End."

This welcome reminded Caspian that he wanted to sail further and see where the end really was, but that he could not do so without breaking the enchantment. He addressed the man. "Sir," he said, "will you tell us how to undo the enchantment which holds these three Narnian lords asleep?"

"I will gladly tell you that, my son. To break this enchantment you must sail to the World's End, or as near as you can come to it, and you must come back having left at least one of your company behind."

Caspian shared a look with Reepicheep, and the mouse asked "And what is to happen to that one?"

"He must go on into the utter East and never return into the world."

"That is my heart's desire," Reepicheep said instantly, and Caspian felt that Reepicheep had spoken for them both.

Caspian asked him about what lay to the east for navigational purposes, but he found that he didn't really want to know ahead of time. He wanted to see, not hear. But the man, Ramandu, revealed that he could not say anything useful of the rest of the eastern world, for he was a star. Then Caspian understood the magic of this place. It was the same wonder that filled him as he stared up at the star-speckled sky in the evenings, a cold, wild sort of feeling. His daughter was shrouded in that same sort of remote beauty.

Then came the moment where Ramandu put the challenge before him. "Are you yet resolved?" he asked. "Will you sail further east and come again, leaving one to return no more and so break the enchantment? Or will you sail westward?"

"Surely, Sire," said Reepicheep, turning to Caspian, "there is no question about that? It is very plainly part of our quest to rescue these three lords from enchantment."

"I think the same, Reepicheep," Caspian answered. "And even if it were not so, it would break my heart not to go as near the world's end as the Dawn Treader will take us." But he reflected aloud that the crew did not have the same wanderlust he shared with Reepicheep, and though he would have gone on alone with the mouse, he couldn't force the men to go further. He knew they wanted to go home, and it hurt him to think that he would have to turn from adventure for his people's sake. He thought hard and fast of a way to convince them to come as far as the last seas would take them. "And then," he concluded, reminded of something else, "There's poor Lord Rhoop. He's a broken man." And he told Ramandu of Rhoop's rescue from the dark island.

"I can give him what he needs most," said Ramandu. "In this island there is sleep without stint or measure, and sleep in which no faintest footfall of a dream was ever heard. Let him sit beside these other three and drink oblivion till your return."

"Oh, do let's do that, Caspian," Lucy breathed. "I'm sure it's just what he would love."

Caspian turned to her with a look which plainly said that he admired and shared in her compassion. He would have said something aloud, but the arrival of Drinian and the ship's crew prevented him. Now Caspian felt this was a moment where he had to show his colors not as wayfairer, but as king. There was some debate among the crew whether to go forward or go back, and it began to get heated enough that Edmund whispered to Caspian "This isn't going to be much fun. What are we to do if half these fellows hang back?"

"Wait," Caspian answered, "I've still a card to play." In his mind, he began rehearsing his speech, borrowing the language he had heard the High King Peter use to direct and inspire his armies.

Meanwhile, Lucy turned to Reepicheep. "Aren't you going to say anything, Reep?" she asked.

"No. Why should your majesty expect it?" the mouse answered, and his high voice carried to the whole crew. "My own plans are made. While I can, I sail east on the Dawn Treader. When she fails me, I paddle east in my coracle. When she sinks, I shall swim east with my four paws. And when I can swim no longer, if I have not reached Aslan's country, or shot over the edge of the world in some vast cataract, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise and Peepiceek will become head of the talking mice in Narnia."

Caspian wanted to cheer, but he checked himself. Not only had Reepicheep expressed the exact nature of the voyage and struck a chord in his own heart, he also played the perfect prelude to the speech Caspian had been rehearsing in his head for the past few minutes. Now the young king sensed his moment, and he stood to address the company. "Friends, I think you have not quite understood our purpose. You talk as if we had come to you with our hat in our hand, begging for shipmates. It isn't like that at all. We and our royal brother and sister and their kinsman and Sir Reepicheep, the good knight, and the Lord Drinian have an errand to the world's edge." Even as he spoke these words he felt a thrill run through him. He continued in an even stronger voice. "It is our pleasure to choose from among such of you as are willing those whom we deem worthy of so high an enterprise. We have not said that any can come for the asking. That is why we shall now command the Lord Drinian and Master Rhince to consider carefully what men among you are the hardest in battle, the most skilled seamen, the cleanest of life and manners; and to give their names to us in a schedule." He took a breath and looked around at the company, some of whom were slack jawed at this sudden show of mastery. Caspian continued, going for the final blow. "Aslan's mane! Do you think the privilege of seeing the last things is to be bought for a song? Why, every man that comes with us shall bequeath the title of Dawn Treader to all his descendants and when we land at Cair Paravel on the homeward voyage he shall have either gold enough or land enough to make him rich all his life. Now—scatter over the island, all of you. In half an hour's time I shall receive the names that Lord Drinian brings me."

All the sailors stared at each other for a moment, dumbfounded. Then they began to shuffle away, talking in little knots or bunches.

"Well played," Edmund said under his breath.

"Thanks. I borrowed your brother's trick of speech and your logic. I figured they couldn't fail me." He clapped Edmund on the back and added "And now for the Lord Rhoop."

He was about to send for the lord when he noticed that he had already seated himself at the table beside the Lord Argoz. Ramandu's daughter stood beside his chair. "Daydreams," he muttered, "are almost always good. I have daydreamed of being reunited with my friends for a long time."

"He must have been so lonely," Lucy whispered in a tearful voice. "I can't even imagine: having to face all that and face it alone."

"Come," Caspian answered, "You and I shall stand beside him now."

Ramandu laid his hands on Rhoop's tired white head. The lord stretched out one hand to Lucy and one to Caspian, and a delicious expression of rest and peace crept into his eyes. The next time Caspian would see such utter peace and such delight in that peace in a face would be when he rocked his infant son to sleep. Rhoop sighed, his head fell forward, and he slept.

"Poor Rhoop," Lucy said, stroking the hand she still held, "I am glad. He must have had terrible times."

Eustace shuddered. "Don't let's even think of it."

Now Caspian wandered away to let the crew decide more freely that they most certainly didn't want to be left out. As he passed the knots of sailors, he could hear from snatches of their conversation that his speech had worked just as he had planned.

In his walk he came upon a promontory of land facing east. Upon this spit of land were huge rocks that he thought were ideal for sitting and seagazing. He settled down with his back against one. The stone was weathered smooth. It was still early morning and even in spite of all that light, there was still a chill in the air. He wrapped his cloak more tightly around him and stared at the horizon, pondering what lay past this land at the end of the world. The sun was very large and very bright in his eyes, but he tried to stare past the great quantity of light.

Presently he heard voices nearby, but it was not the voices of sailors. It was the lady talking with Lucy. "And now," she was saying "Since you have asked so many questions of me, it is my turn to ask some things of you."

"Ask me anything you like," Lucy said frankly.

"Is it true you are that Queen who saw Aslan's death at the Stone Table?" Caspian could detect a note of soft wonder in her voice.

"And rise again," Lucy reminded her. "Yes. I was there." Caspian noticed how different their voices sounded. The star's daughter spoke with soft, veiled tones, but Lucy's voice rang clear and true as a bell.

"Then your brother who is with you—he is not the High King, but the one who—"

"Hush. Don't speak of that," Lucy said quickly.

"Do you mean to say these Narnians do not know?"

"I do. When Edmund came back to us, Aslan said we were not to speak to him of what was in the past. I dare not disobey that command, and since Peter extended it to all of Narnia we have kept our silence." Caspian was impressed. This was the first time he had ever heard Lucy use the clear commanding voice of a monarch, but she used it with authority.

All of this was very trying on Caspian's curiosity. He was burning to know what Edmund had done that caused Lucy to be so serious or Edmund to look so uncomfortable. He had always known Edmund to be steady, thoughtful, and wise, far moreso than himself. At the same time, he felt he ought to get up and show himself, that it was wrong to eavesdrop.

Before he could gather the courage to admit his fault, the woman was speaking again. "And what of the present King of Narnia you travel with? Have you known him long?" Now he knew for certain that he would have to wait out the conversation. It would be far too awkward to interrupt now.

"We've traveled together since before the Lone Islands," Lucy answered, "And we'd met once before then, when my brothers and sister and I helped him to his rightful place on the throne."

"You know him well, then."

There was a long pause, and Caspian listened closely for what Lucy would say about him. "He is one of my dearest friends," Lucy finally answered. "Perhaps one of the best friends I shall ever have."

"I can see there is a closeness between you," the lady replied.

"I hope he feels the same as I do," Lucy murmured. Caspian wanted to leap from behind the rocks and cry "I do!" but he stayed where he was.

"I am quite sure he does. And that is precisely the trouble," she added in a lower voice. Caspian wondered at how this stranger could know him so well. Was everything written so plainly in his face?

"What did you say?" Lucy asked.

"It was of no consequence. Come—let us sit and talk with my father. He will be pleased to hear what you have to tell of Coriakin." They left the point together, and Caspian watched them go. He thought they made a strange pair. Though Lucy had her free walk and her confiding face, the star's daughter walked with her back very straight, and she did not often turn to look at Lucy.

When the half hour was up, Caspian received the names Drinian had given him, all the crew save Pittencream. Caspian was a little disappointed by this; he himself had chosen Pittencream because the man had such a steadfast look about him. But the sailor had failed them at the end of the world. Caspian began to doubt his judgment of character until he looked at Drinian and Reepicheep beside him, always beside him, and he thought of Trumpkin at home in Cair Paravel, truer than steel.

They ate that night in the company of Ramandu and his daughter, and the spirit of adventure ran through all of them. Lucy was beside him speculating with Eustace about what they might see, and Eustace was listening open-mouthed, having been unable to even imagine such things until a couple of months ago. Caspian was laughing at this until he felt the eyes of Ramandu's daughter staring at him again from across the table. He looked up and met her gaze. Lucy had whispered about Rhoop's loneliness, but he wondered for a second about hers. He noticed that Lucy laughed freely and often, but he could not imagine this girl merry.

She broke their gaze to look at Lucy, who had now drawn Reepicheep and Edmund and Drinian into the conversation. Caspian looked at Lucy too, and felt the warmth she radiated, the way she drew everyone into a tight circle around her. She was clear and true as a diamond but soft and warm as the spring sun.

The lady across from him was different. She looked at Lucy, but he couldn't read the expression in her eyes. He was far too used to Lucy, who wore her tender heart on her sleeve. This daughter of a star was much softer and more opaque, delicate like a pearl. She burned with a cooler, more remote fire, and that moved Caspian to sympathize with her. He had been lonely once too.

The next morning the Dawn Treader was ready to sail, and Ramandu and his daughter came to the shore to bid them farewell. When she turned to Lucy she bowed and said "Oh Queen and great adventurer, woman of legendary faith, it has been an honor to meet you."

Lucy blushed a little, but kept her composure. "It has been a great honor on my part to pass some time here with you. I hope to come again." The lady did not answer, but she gave Lucy an unreadable smile.

Now Ramandu's daughter was in front of Caspian himself, and he saw something of the wistfulness he had witnessed the night before in her face. "Oh King of Narnia and great explorer, I bless your voyage and pray that Aslan's grace may guide you."

Caspian could think of no formal reply to her kind words, but when he looked into her face, he spoke honestly. "Lady," he said, "I hope to speak with you again when I have broken these enchantments."

The smile that she gave him in reply was another that went straight to his heart and stopped it for a moment. Caspian wondered what he had said. He was merely thinking of passing some time in her company, giving her the solicitude of friendship he had been so glad to receive. She seemed to need it. But from the look in her eyes she took his meaning to be much more, even though she seemed to know how he felt about Lucy. He couldn't understand it at all. Finally Edmund had to draw him away. "Caspian," he said, "The boat is waiting."


A/N: Phew! That was a long chapter, but it had to do a lot, so I hope you'll forgive the length.

Just to be definitely clear and so those of you rooting for Lucy to stay don't utterly hate me at the end, I am definitely keeping this story in canon. Not only did I plan it that way, but I also need it to be in canon when I write Lucy's story in the tetrology (info on that in my profile).

However, I've gotten so many cool questions and coments and wonderings about what would happen if they did stay, that I really can't leave the AU fic unwritten, so that will come next, but as a very separate story, which I hope you all read. ; ) Thank you all for reading this one so far!