Authoresses's Note: Many thanks to all the readers who have stuck with me as I write this story. As it has developed, I have realized the need to change a few key details. Namely, Galen and Lyra's ages. I will make the corresponding adjustments to the first few chapters soon, but for reference with this chapter, Galen is twenty years old instead of eighteen. Apologies to all!
Disclaimer: Narnia is not mine, no copyright infringement intended.
Chapter the Thirty-Second: Narnian Magic
8 Fairdawn 2076
The day following the skirmish with the pirate frigate passed without incident. Captain Torin set his sailors to cleaning the ship until it was spotless, and Lieutenant Commander MacLeod's engineers repaired the damage in short order. As Lyra had surmised, the pirate frigate's leadweights had not compromised the sturdy Archen oak that comprised the Jewel's double hull. That evening, the captain ordered a cask of strong Archen wine opened for the crew. Taken straight, it would knock even the toughest sailor senseless, but once mixed with water there was plenty to go around. The morning of the eighth of Fairdawn dawned clear with the Jewel of Archenland about twenty miles off of Terebinthia.
"What is Terebinthia like, my lady?" Galen found his friend in the fighting top leaning on the rail and looking towards the horizon.
"It's bigger than Galma by about half," his Archen friend replied. "Its wide natural harbor and location off the Bight of Calormen has made it a significant trading port. As a result, its capitol is a bustling city teeming with all manner of people."
"It sounds colorful," Galen noted with a chuckle.
"Aye," Lyra smiled. "Though on this visit I do not know that that will serve us well," a note of worry entered her voice.
"You mean we can expect more assassins and brigands among Terebinthia's varied visitors."
The Archen princess nodded.
"How long do you expect to stay here?"
"Well, the Duke and Duchess of Terebinthia extended an invitation for several days. And it will take that long for the ship to resupply—Captain Torin is picky in his choice of suppliers."
The Narnian chuckled. "More time for negotiations?"
Lyra made a face. "Thankfully, the trade treaty we have with Terebinthia is more longstanding than that of Galma, and I will not have to renew it on this visit."
"What, then, will we be doing?"
"Oh, the duke will probably have some sort of military exposition planned—he usually does—and the duchess will host a series of balls. It would be fun—but for the Terebinthian rulers themselves."
Galen laughed, and Lyra could not help but join him.
"In all seriousness, my friend," the Archen princess's voice took on a graver tone, "we must be careful here. Terebinthia is neither enemy nor ally. Its interest is in maintaining free trade with all at any cost—an interest that is not necessarily concomitant with our own, given the tensions with Calormen."
"Do you mean they would allow harm to come to you?"
"Not on purpose, but they may be inclined to look the other way if Calormene agents are up to something." The princess paused, thinking for a moment. "If we have the chance, we should explore the Terebinthian seacoast. The island boasts some beautiful rock formations."
"With or without the duchess and her presumable entourage of simpering ladies?" Galen smirked.
Lyra looked askance at her Narnian friend and swatted his arm in retaliation.
"Ow! Unfair, my lady!" Galen feigned hurt.
"As was yours," Lyra arched an eyebrow in reply as her gaze returned to the sea.
A little while later, Galen could begin to make out a faint blue shadow on the horizon.
"Land ho!" The sailor on watch beside them suddenly shouted. "We should make port in the next couple of hours, your highness," he informed the princess in quieter tones.
"Very well," she acknowledged. Turning to her Narnian friend, she added, "I must make a few preparations before we dock. Please feel free to remain here and watch the ship make harbor. It is a sight to behold from this height!"
Galen nodded his thanks, and Lyra ducked below the rail and made her way down the ropes to the deck.
Galen settled back against the rail and took a deep, content breath. Over the minutes that passed, the island grew steadily closer. Presently, reedy-voiced pelicans flew past, one diving down to scoop up an unfortunate fish. Shrill-voiced terns wheeled overhead and curious gulls eyed the Narnian in his high perch as the Jewel drew closer. One courageous winged scout landed on the rail next to Galen and turned his bright, beady eye on the young knight.
"Good afternoon for flying, I warrant," the Narnian greeted cheerily, forgetting for a moment that the bird was not a Talking Bird. "Ah, well, I'm afraid I haven't any lunch for you, friend," Galen chuckled, realizing his mistake. Coming to the forlorn conclusion that the crow's nest contained no food, the seagull took the wing and rose effortlessly into the bright blue sky.
By now, Terebinthia lay close ahead, just to port. The Narnian could make out water-carved cliffs and grottos along the point to the South, while crystal blue water lapped pale sandy beaches to the North. Between them, a large, calm bay opened in a semicircle.
"Reef the topgallants and foretopsail!" The first officer's strong voice could be heard below. A whistle rang out, and prompt sailors set about their business. The ship's speed began to slow a little. Just then, Galen noticed a much smaller vessel—a cutter he would later discover—bearing a blue flag with two bright yellow bars across the lower corner. It approached the ship and began to signal.
"What business does that boat have, I wonder?" Galen asked the sailor beside him.
"'Tis a pilot boat, my lord," the sailor answered. "Larger harbors use them to guide incoming vessels. It helps control traffic and ensure against collisions."
Galen nodded his thanks and continued to watch the scene unfold. At length, the Jewel's crew took in more sail and the ship began to slow more, following the pilot boat at a comfortable distance. As the ship passed the mouth of the bay, Galen remarked a narrow conical tower, painted white, with a glass windows enclosing the pinnacle.
"And that?" Galen pointed, intrigued.
"A lighthouse, my lord," the sailor answered goodnaturedly. "At night, the keeper lights the lamps and it sends a long beam of light into the sea so ships can navigate and avoid obstacles."
"Fascinating!" The landsman exclaimed, smiling. Taking his eyes from the lighthouse, Galen looked up at the island spread out before him. The large bay was full of all manner of vessels, and beyond the water the island rose in gentle slopes. Its hills, though, were not softened by grass like Galma's. Rather, clumps of lush green trees interspersed with splashes of colorful flowers generously covered the rocky landscape. Here and there, among the slopes, graceful houses with clay tile roofs surveyed their approach.
"Once we close on our anchorage, the sailors will be too busy about the ropes for you to climb down. If you wish to return to the deck, this will be your best opportunity, my lord," the sailor broke Galen's reverie.
Thanking him, the Narnian ducked under the crow's nest railing and descended the ropes to the deck. Hastening to the bow, Galen leaned against the rail and watched, fascinated, as the Jewel began to slow and deftly maneuvered into a bouy-marked anchorage about a half-mile from shore.
"Enjoying the view?" Lyra took a spot on the rail next to Galen. The Archen princess again wore the burgundy linen dress she had worn on Galma.
"Indeed," Galen smiled. "I could get used to the sea."
"'Tis well enough, given the extent of our journey!" Lyra laughed "The longboat will take us to the pier soon. If you wish to have more than the clothes on your back, you'd best pack your bags, friend!"
Very well, your highness," Galen smiled cheekily and bowed, then moved toward the stern. The princess took his place at the rail and smiled, satisfied with her work.
Within fifteen minutes, the Narnian knight joined the princess amid-ship, where the sailors were preparing the longboat, his leather satchel slung over his shoulder. This time, Lyra wore her sword at her side, the belt concealed under the green velvet bodice she had donned over her dress. Unusually, her golden hair was twisted up around her head, rather than left at least partially loose. The brisk sea wind still tossed a few errant strands about her face. A substantial valise sat at her feet.
"Your highness, if you please," one of the sailors at the longboat bowed slightly and extended his hand. With a nod, the Archen princess took the hand he offered and stepped into the boat. Galen and the princess's guard of marines joined her as one of the sailors stowed Lyra's bag. Within a few minutes, the boat was lowered into the bay and with the sailors' quick strokes at the oars, the longboat skimmed swiftly to the pier.
Across the bay, Galen could see myriad merchant vessels at anchor. The Jewel, in contrast, was distinguished as the only warship and enjoyed a station distant from the bustling commercial wharfs. Soon, the longboat tied up to the deserted pier dedicated for the Archen ship's use. As the marines, first, then the princess disembarked, a carriage and horses came to a stop at the end of the pier. A man clad in a fine but nondescript brown tunic approached and bowed.
"His lordship Ambassador Brevain bids your highness welcome to Terebinthia," the man spoke with an Archen accent. "If it pleases your highness, it is my lord's pleasure to invite your highness to share tea with him at the Archen embassy this afternoon."
"We happily accept his lordship's gracious offer," Lyra answered, inclining her head.
Following the ambassador's assistant, the party proceeded to dry land.
"My lady," Colonel Grey spoke in a hushed tone, "of your courtesy I must insist that you endure the carriage rather than ride openly. I would not risk some assassin taking advantage of so easy an opportunity."
"Very well, uncle," the princess agreed, and within a few minutes the carriage rolled swiftly down the brick road towards the city, Archen marines riding before and behind. This carriage was far roomier than its Galman counterpart, and both Galen and Colonel Gray were able to join the princess within it with room to spare. As the wheels clattered over the paving stones, Galen caught glimpses of colorful flower stands, fishmongers replenishing their stocks, and the warm, sweet aroma of fruits he could not name. Wagons full of yard goods, spices, or other foreign wares fought for right-of-way as they moved to and from the merchantmen. Faintly above the cheery din Galen could hear a blacksmith's hammer. Eventually, the carriage climbed higher and turned into quieter streets. Soon, it turned down a lane lined with fragrant, flowering trees. Coming to a gate guarded by Archen marines, the carriage slowed, then proceeded as the gate was swiftly opened. Turning expertly around the fountain in the center of the circular courtyard, the carriage came to a stop in front of a lovely villa. A distinguished man, still youthful but his dark hair showing streaks of gray, stood at the top of the wide steps that lead to the door. As the princess stepped out, he hastened down the steps to greet her.
"Your highness, it is a pleasure to see you again," he greeted warmly, taking the hand she offered and kissing it lightly.
"My lord ambassador," Lyra smiled in return, "it is likewise a pleasure to enjoy your gracious hospitality. May I introduce the members of my party—Sir Galen and my uncle, Colonel Grey. My lords, may I present Ambassador Brevain."
"Honored to make your acquaintance gentlemen," the Ambassador bowed again, and Lyra's companions did likewise.
"Please," the ambassador motioned toward the door, "make yourselves comfortable and tea will be served within half an hour."
"My lord ambassador, of your courtesy we would like to reside at the embassy for the duration of my visit. With my regrets to the duchess, my uncle wishes to maintain certain security measures."
"Of course, your highness! The servants will see that appropriate quarters are prepared," the Archen diplomat responded solicitously.
"My thanks, ambassador. If you would pardon me, I wish to refresh my memory of your excellent gardens before tea. Perhaps at that time you would be so kind as to review the schedule for our visit."
"Very well, my lady," Ambassador Brevain bowed, "By your leave, I will have a servant fetch you when tea is ready."
Lyra inclined her head in agreement, then, motioning for Galen to follow, made her way through the embassy's richly carpeted main hall. The Narnian followed her without a word, and presently the hall ended in a set of glass double doors that opened onto a terrace.
"Although I little care for Terebinthia's rulers, its gardens are some of my favorite," the Archenlander spoke happily as they stepped onto the bright terrace.
"I can well believe it!" Her Narnian friend answered, surveying the enchanting scene before him. Two small staircases led from each end of the terrace to the lush garden below, and beyond it, Galen could see the bay and the sea stretching to the horizon. Sunlight filtered through the green leaves of the trees above them, and the warm air carried the sweet aroma of fruit mingled with a hint of the sea's sharp salt tang.
"Come," Lyra smiled, "let's wander the paths a little while."
"Delighted, my lady," Galen replied, offering his arm as they descended the stairs to the garden below. Lyra, nodding her thanks, accepted it with a familiar ease.
"Father and I used to walk these paths when I was little," Lyra mused as they walked along the shaded path, her eyes carrying a far-off expression and a faint smile playing at her lips. "He liked to take Ayden and me on diplomatic trips in turn, and I loved coming to Terebinthia with him. I would run ahead on this path, and he would pretend to have trouble catching up to me, before sweeping me up on his shoulders so I could see the ships at harbor," the princess laughed. "It feels so long ago now," she finished wistfully, leaning against the low stone wall along the ridge and looking out over the water far below.
"I used to go tracking with my father when I was younger," Galen mused, leaning against the wall beside his friend. "He never took me anywhere he expected danger, of course, but I treasure the many hours we spent, me clumsily trying to imitate his graceful step through the forest! If I am half the woodsman he was, I am proud indeed," the Narnian chuckled, and Lyra smiled at the tale.
"What was your father like?"
"Mother says that I look very much like he did at my age. As I remember him he was broad-shouldered and passionate, stalwart and yet kind," Galen's voice trailed off. "I can hardly fathom that it has been five years since he went to Aslan's Country."
"What befell him?" Lyra asked in a soft, sympathetic tone.
"He was scouting one afternoon and encountered a Telmarine patrol. He slew them all with his faithful bow—the same one that has served me so well in our adventures—but not before several of their hideous bolts found their marks." Galen set his jaw and stared deliberately toward the horizon. "He lived long enough to drag himself back home. Telmarine bolts are cruel—those that do not strike their target squarely are slow, but sure, to kill. He knighted me before he died, giving the Stone Knife into my charge."
The two were quiet for a moment.
"I share your sorrows, my friend," Lyra spoke at last with a soft solemnity, resting her hand briefly upon his.
Galen inclined his head in thanks, his eyes carrying both warmth and melancholy.
"I shall meet him again at the end of all things," he spoke, smiling faintly, his voice reflecting hope and conviction.
"Indeed," his friend returned his smile.
At that moment, a servant approached.
"Tea is served, your highness, my lord."
"Very well," the princess answered.
The two friends began to walk back towards the villa, but they did not hurry. As before, Lyra took the arm Galen offered as they ascended the stairs, with her other hand gracefully lifting the hem of her skirt out of the way of her boots.
As the servant showed the two into the parlor, Ambassador Brevain and Colonel Grey were standing by the windows engaged in friendly conversation. Both bowed slightly as Lyra entered.
"My lady, if you please," the ambassador motioned towards the richly upholstered sofas in front of which tea and sandwiches were laid out on the tea table.
Thanking him, Lyra took her seat, after which her three companions did likewise.
After the ambassador had had the honor of pouring the tea and ensuring that his guests were amply supplied with cream and sugar, he turned to the business at hand.
"The Duke and Duchess sent my office a proposed schedule for your visit, your highness. My scribe was good enough to prepare copies," the Archen diplomat handed Lyra a finely printed piece of parchment. "Although the duchess sent separate invitations relating to the events, I took the liberty of reserving them unless and until you should wish them. If you would care to peruse the schedule, my office would be pleased to prepare any replies your highness wishes to give."
"You are most kind, Ambassador," Lyra responded, a slight twinkle in her eyes. "You know me well."
Taking a sip of tea, she began to look over the paper.
"The reception tonight looks in order," she noted without taking her eyes from the paper, "although the duchess should be informed that I will not be accepting her hospitality overnight."
"Very well, your highness," responded the ambassador, motioning for the aforementioned scribe, who joined them and began to make notes.
"I will accept the military demonstration tomorrow morning and the duchess's ball tomorrow evening, but I venture to guess that my uncle would object to the market tour tomorrow afternoon," she glanced at Colonel Grey, who nodded. Lyra continued to read. "Everything else is well, but in lieu of the duchess's second reception the night after next, would the ambassador be willing to host a state dinner here at the embassy?"
"As you wish, my lady. I will see that appropriate invitations are sent and preparations made."
"Very well, thank you," the Archen princess answered. "Also, I believe the Jewel's legal officer, Lieutenant Trevelyan, has documents for your next diplomatic pouch," she added.
The ambassador nodded.
Once they had finished their tea, Lyra retired to her quarters to rest before preparing for the evening's reception. Lyra's uncle preferred to spend the time arranging the travel route and inspecting the embassy's security contingent. Galen, finding himself alone, returned to the garden and devoted the remainder of the afternoon to exploring it thoroughly. Soon, he expertly knew his way around the embassy's grounds and had discovered a charming wisteria arbor and fountain to his particular liking. As the sun began to set beyond the bay, Galen returned to his room to prepare for the evening as well. Before they had left Archenland, Galen had been outfitted with an array of clothing suitable to an Archen knight. Tonight, he chose a finely woven muslin shirt along with a deep green tunic with lightly embroidered edges. After buckling his sword around his waist, the Narnian made his way down to to the embassy's foyer. There, he found Lyra waiting with the Ambassador.
She wore a full-skirted gown of midnight blue velvet, the hem and neckline embroidered in silver and gold. The narrow velvet sleeves were also trimmed in matching embroidery and buttons. Her golden hair was put up attractively and graced by a simple but elegant silver crown.
The princess caught the Narnian knight's eye and he paused on the stair.
"Something wrong, Sir Galen?" A hint of a knowing smile played at the corner of the Archen princess's lips as she looked up at the Narnian knight.
"Nay, my lady," Galen responded, regaining his focus and descending the remaining steps to the main floor. "My compliments to your highness's dressmaker."
"My thanks," Lyra met his gaze with an amused, but challenging spark in her eyes.
"My lady, my lords, if you are ready," the doorman spoke, relieving Galen of the weight of the princess's piercing gaze.
The warm Terebinthian afternoon had melted into the a crisp evening, and after donning their cloaks, the party stepped outside. The well-appointed carriage and guard of Archen marines waited in the courtyard. As they approached the carriage, the young Narnian offered his hand—with courtesy but without show—to Lyra, who accepted it graciously as she stepped up into the carriage. The princess gazed thoughtfully out the window as the carriage began to roll down the drive, and none of her companions did her the discourtesy of disturbing her reverie with idle conversation. Galen gazed out the window as well. The waxing crescent moon had not yet risen above the hills, so the Galman countryside was shrouded in shadow. About twenty minutes into the drive, the Archen princess spoke at last.
"Uncle, do you wish to review anything with respect to security matters?"
"Of course, my lady," the Archen marine answered. "The contingent of marines will secure the hall and routes of egress, at the ready if need be. The Calormene ambassador and his party will almost certainly be present, and I and my men will pay them special vigilance."
"That is well, although I do not fear them," Lyra answered, her eyes carrying a hard glint.
"That I know well, my dear niece," Colonel Grey smiled with a fatherly warmth.
At last, the carriage passed through a large gate and drew to a stop before a small palace. Unlike its Galman counterpart, the Terebinthian rulers' abode deserved the name, perhaps too well. Its ornate design was too ostentatious for Galen's taste.
As the Archen party disembarked, the Narnian knight again discreetly offered his hand to the princess, and again she accepted it with ease. Galen continued toward great double door, then turned back upon realizing that Lyra had not advanced since stepping out of the carriage. She stood ramrod straight, her eyes glinting as pale and hard as ice in the crescent moon's wan light.
"My lady?" Galen returned to her side, placing a hand lightly on her arm. "Is aught amiss?"
"Nay, good sir. All is well," she regained her composure, inclined her head in thanks for the knight's inquiry, and stepped forward to enter the Terebinthian palace. Galen, Ambassador Brevain, Colonel Grey, and several Archen marines followed closely behind her. At the end of the hall, she stopped before two gilt doors. After a moment's pause, the palace attendants opened the doors, revealing a large and well-decorated ballroom, and Lyra continued, stepping through them, to the dais overlooking the room.
"The Princess Lyra of Archenland!" A deep-throated voice announced loudly, cutting through the hum of chatter.
"Friends," a woman's voice spoke, "raise a glass to our most noble guest of honor at tonight's reception. To Princess Lyra! Hail and welcome!"
"To Princess Lyra!" The guests answered, raising their glasses in answer.
Lyra inclined her head and curtseyed slightly in return before descending the stair to the ballroom floor.
"My dear Lyra, how well it is to see you again!" The woman who had offered the toast was the first to greet the princess, kissing her lightly on each cheek.
"Likewise, your grace," the princess answered warmly. "Duchess Wilhelmina, may I introduce you to my noble companions? With Ambassador Brevain I dare say you are acquainted, but Sir Galen and Colonel Grey have yet to make your acquaintance."
Each man bowed as his name was mentioned, and the duchess eyed them with assessing gaze that Galen did not trust.
"Your highness's traveling companions are most welcome," the duchess returned. "And may I compliment your highness's taste in diplomatic escorts," she winked, glancing at Galen. "Please, refresh yourselves and enjoy the evening," the duchess offered a half-curtesy before moving off to greet additional guests.
"She makes very free," Galen remarked softly with a wry tone.
"Indeed," Lyra chuckled.
After accepting wine and food from the servants who criss-crossed the room with great platters, Lyra and Galen began to wander the room. Ambassador Brevain was speaking to his Terebinthian counterpart, while Colonel Grey stood at a watchful distance. The princess was making small talk with a Terebinthian noblewoman when a swarthy man of about fifty years wearing a rich scarlet turban approached.
"Princess Lyra," he bowed, "the gods smile upon me to give me the honor of meeting you again."
"Ambassador Amil Tarkaan," she answered, inclining her head only slightly.
"I am surprised at your highness's willingness to make a journey such as this given the most unfortunate tension that exists between our great countries," the tarkaan's dark brown eyes gazed at Lyra piercingly.
"And I at your lordship's forwardness in speaking of such affairs among third parties," the princess returned. Galen could see fire flash momentarily in her eyes, and he moved his hand closer to his sword-hilt. "Good evening, my lord," she nodded curtly and moved away, Galen at her side. The ambassador from Calormen did not follow, but began to speak with his attendants.
Lyra and Galen continued to move about the room, making polite greetings to each person. After a while, light strains of music could be heard and some of the courtiers began to dance.
"My lady, if you are weary of conversing, would you do me the honor?" Galen bowed slightly, looking at the princess with mischievous eyes and extending an upturned hand.
"Very well," Lyra answered, taking the hand he offered but refusing to acknowledge the glint of laughter reflected in the Narnian's countenance.
With a bow and a curtsy, the two joined the other dancers in a comfortable waltz.
The Calormene delegation made no more trouble that night. At last, as the evening wore late, the Archen Princess and her party returned to the embassy. Lyra proved no more talkative on the return journey than she had been on the way there. Once back at the embassy, Galen had retired to his room at first but soon found he could not sleep. Donning his ordinary clothes, he set out to explore the embassy. His room, like the other guest quarters, was located on the second of the embassy's two floors, and his room looked out onto the front courtyard. After some poking around upstairs, he discovered the servants' staircase, which conveniently wound down to the kitchens and servants' quarters in the basement level. From there, he found he could avoid the embassy guards and slip into the garden. By this time, the moon had risen high in the midnight sky, flanked by a thousand shimmering stars. Taking a deep, contented breath of the clean night air, Galen made his way down the path toward the wisteria arbor and fountain. In the distance a nightingale's lilting voice carried on the slight breeze, and the warm aroma of olives filtered through the leaves.
Settling onto the bench, Galen leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. After pondering restlessly for some time, the Narnian at last drew his flute from his pocket and began to play. The melody was light and lilting in tone, but smooth and rich in its resonance. It mingled well with the moonlight. Galen closed his eyes, and as he played, the melody deepened, reflecting the skill and concentration of its player.
Lyra, too, had found the night sleepless. Clad in a simple white dress and a pale blue embroidered shawl, she wandered the paths thoughtfully. Catching the strains of music from Galen's flute, she silently drew closer, shrouded by a flowering bush on the other side of the fountain. Closing her eyes, she listened, entranced, the smooth melody calming her worry-filled heart. She took a deep breath, relaxing at last. At that moment, she heard the noise of the fountain suddenly become quiet. Opening her eyes, her breath caught sharply in her throat. The water itself had set to dancing—not merely falling in its usual cascade, but forming swaying shapes of water-women that danced fluidly in time with Galen's lilting tune. Mastering her surprise, the Archenlander leaned closer and with curious eyes watched the water dance. Looking at the contentment on her friend's face, she smiled. As the last note died away, Lyra emerged from the shroud of flowers.
"You might have warned me that I traveled in the company of a magician," her voice, though not loud, rang clearly in the little courtyard.
"My lady!" Galen started, jumping to his feet. "I—"
"Worry not," Lyra laughed, her eyes twinkling silver-blue in the moonlight. "Forgive me for startling you. 'Twas a beautiful tune—and dance."
"Thank you," the Narnian answered, still unsettled. "Would my lady care to sit?" He motioned to the bench. Inclining her head, her eyes still twinkling with mirth, she took the seat he offered and drew her shawl closer around her shoulders.
"Will you tell me of it?" The Archen princess smiled gently, motioning for him to retake his seat. With an uneasy sigh he did so.
"I did not deceive you, my lady," Galen looked down at the flute in his hands. "You never asked."
"How would I ever know to ask?" Lyra laughed. "Why do you fear to tell me?" she asked, laying a gentle hand on her friend's arm. "What is this wonder your music works, and how did you come to learn it?"
After a moment, he answered. "I have not spoken much of what became of true Narnians when the Telmarines forced us into hiding. I remember as a child meeting a few dryads and naiads, but there were not many, and none that I know of remain awake. The tune I was playing is a song the naiads taught to the fauns long ago. The naiads would sing it, but the fauns learned to mimic the naiads' magic by using their flutes to coax the water into dance. It is all, really, that remains of the naiads, and it is kept alive in their memory."
"How did you learn to play?" Lyra asked after a melancholy pause.
"The fauns that lived nearby taught me, ever since I was little. The fauns of Narnia are almost universally masters of enchanted music, passing it down from father to son. The faun who taught me had no son, and decided to teach me instead. All Narnians resolved to keep the traditions alive to the extent possible, even in hiding. By Aslan's grace, the Dancing Lawn remained in the forest where the Telmarines would not stray. The Midsummer's Eve festival was the best of all—such music and dancing! We would almost forget that we were in hiding," Galen smiled, and his friend smiled with him.
"Thank you for sharing it with me," Lyra responded earnestly. "But I am curious—that lullaby you played aboard ship the night we left Galma, was that a bit of your musical magic too?"
"Guilty, my lady," Galen laughed sheepishly. "Although only a little!"
"I knew it! What else can you make dance?" Lyra smiled eagerly, her eyes twinkling.
"Well, some lullabies can make fire dance. Some of the most skilled masters can even make the wind dance, although I cannot say I have reached that level of skill," he looked down modestly.
"Now tell me," the Archen princess drew herself up and looked at the Narnian with a suspicious eye. "What other manner of enchantment can you work, my good sir?"
"None but the musical variety, my lady, I assure you!" Galen laughed. "I am no wizard."
"Very well, I am satisfied," Lyra replied, the mirthful spark still lighting her eyes.
"With that settled, would my lady accept an escort back to the house?" Galen stood and bowed, extending his arm.
"Happily, sir knight," the princess smiled, standing and accepting the arm that Galen offered. Her hand lingered on his arm as they walked slowly back to the embassy, chatting softly as they went.
High up in a tree beyond the garden's outer wall, a pair of beady eyes observed their midnight return.
Authoress's Note: Thank you for reading! A review on your way out might encourage a faster update!