A/n: Like so many prior chapters, this one was a learning experience. I have never written a scene with the Pevensies in it, and I kept tiptoeing around it until I finally gave in and wrote it. All the way through, I worried I couldn't capture their personalities or their voices. Even though I've seen the 2005 movie and read the books (and listened to the audio versions a half a dozen times or so), I still felt like the worst Narnia writer ever for not making the main characters of the books sound authentic.

Hey! At least I tried. Whether or not I pulled it off, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

The noon sun poked its head around a towering pillar of cloud as men and beast panted to a stop. Sweat had broken out across their heads and soaked the shirts of the men. All around them, clouds had bubbled into the high sky, and their anvils had started to spread over their heads. Philip sniffed the air and said something about a devilish storm, but Faraji heard none of it. He was too busy feeling his heart pound. The pointed turrets of Anvard had risen over the hills, and the closer he came, the bigger Anvard grew. Every step closer to the castle was another step closer to whatever awaited him.

Nothing broke him out of his trance except the jingling of tack and the sight of Bergan swinging himself out of the saddle. The man said they were stopping there to water the horses, as a clear, cool stream rippled before them. Saheeb and Zareenah kept aiming their innocent eyes up at the guards, then lowered their heads to show all the sadness they could; Faraji seethed with resentment at them as they all lapped at the water. Nazeen kept sharing Faraji's looks of worry, but she said nothing of it.

Few words were exchanged the rest of the way. To their left, the sun began its voyage to the horizon, and the shadows grew long as the castle drew nearer. Even as the sun fell behind a thundercloud, the heat grew thick enough to take your breath out of your chest, and no one doubted that a great storm would march on Anvard that night.

Half the sky had grown dark with thunderheads, and lightning danced and whipped across the vaulted clouds as the party approached the gates of Anvard. The taste of rain lingered in the air, and the wind started to kick the dust up off the dirt roads. All around them, men and their animals gathered to greet King Lune and Prince Cor and the Kings and Queens of Narnia. But as Philip and Faraji came into view, some murmured their surprise at the sight of Philip, and while Faraji couldn't make out all the words that were spoken, he heard the horse's name.

At once, a terrible notion took shape in Faraji's head. He turned toward Saheeb and said, "It was you, wasn't it? You told them Philip was dead."

Saheeb gave no reply.

"What—did you send them one of your letters?"

"I had to make certain the Narnians wouldn't go looking for their horse."

"And when do you expect to tell them this?"

"Never, because it's none of their concern. You're giving them back their precious steed—that's all that matters."

Faraji growled at him. "If you won't tell them, I will."

"Fine," said Saheeb. "Go ahead and endanger our future. Endanger Nazeen's future. Go ahead and be the one who informs on his own family, sentencing them to a life of imprisonment. But I warned you: If you endanger our future, I will endanger yours. And if I do, you should be grateful. Aslan will not tolerate those who betray their families any more than I do."

"The real Aslan would not let me tell a lie."

"Tell yourself that if it comforts you, Haroshta, but you can't run from the truth. Aslan punishes all who betray their families. The last Calormene who did that was so disfigured that his family couldn't give him a decent burial."

Faraji chuckled nervously. "I don't believe you."

But if you had seen his face, you would know that he did believe it. His eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open with fear.

The evening sun poked through a crack in the towering clouds, and the red stone walls of Anvard glowed orange in the golden light. Over their heads, the flags on each turret danced and snapped in the gale. Straight ahead, a great archway yawned, and a trellis-like iron gate stood in its mouth.

Faraji's heart sped up as he peeked through the horses' legs; if there was a Lion—and he still didn't know what a Lion looked like—it wasn't there. Still, the cheetah tensed and fidgeted. Anyone might meet him by now. Part of him wished lightning would leap from on high and spare him the dread of having to meet his fate, but he thought better of it.

The ring of horses broke, and the two leading steeds trotted aside. The gate rose up, and the brightly colored figures hidden behind the metal bars were now in full view. All wore robes and tunics of deep red and green, with thin, bright crowns upon their heads. The blond-headed man had a beard and mustache, and a barrel chest and a broad smile. The black-haired man was clean-shaven, with bright wide eyes and a kind face that also lifted in a smile. The woman with wavy black hair that fell past her shoulders was in the middle of a laugh with her sister, whose red hair draped down far below her shoulders, and whose face was the kindest and prettiest Faraji had ever seen. In their midst, on a great black charger, sat a fat and jolly king, adorned in a bright apple-green robe with legs that fitted his large calves. His voice rang out like a great horn. Beside him on a spotted white steed was a boy of thirteen or fourteen; his head was uncovered, his long blond hair tossed to and fro by the breeze.

Faraji did not need any historian of Narnia to tell them who they were. They were none other than King Peter, King Edmund, Queen Susan, and Queen Lucy of Narnia, and King Lune and Prince Cor of Archenland. And when the gate had gone up, the Kings and Queens of Narnia and the North suddenly became very eager, then very solemn. All knew the horse who stood before them, and Edmund looked as though he were about to cry. Philip sniffled, but he regained himself and bent a knobbly leg, bowing very low and kneeling in the way all Narnian horses do. And when he arose, he said nothing. He basked in the glow of all that lay around him—all his brothers, the horses he had rescued from Calormen, and now his own King.

"My friend," said Edmund, his voice almost a whisper, "I have wronged you. I should never have sent you to Calormen alone."

"Sire, it was no accident," said the horse. "Though I was sent to Erizad under false pretenses, I have seen great good come from it. We have rescued slaves from Calormen, and—"

"Erizad?" said Peter. "By the Lion, what were you doing so far away?"

"I have much to explain, my King, but first, I must introduce you to my travelers. This is Lasaraleen Tarkheena, wife of the late Mirradin Tarkaan, and a good friend of Bree and Hwin. In fact, she is a good friend of one of our friends, the Tarkheena—"

On cue, Lasaraleen shouted: "Aravis!"

In reply, a high female voice rang out from the other side of the courtyard: "Lasaraleen?"

Silence fell over them all, and the horses began to part. The young woman that everyone once knew as a Tarkheena was now dressed in the red and gold robes of an Archenlander princess. Her head was uncovered, her black hair waving freely about her head, and her mouth cupped by a hand. Her face started to crumple as she marched across the courtyard, and Lasaraleen followed suit, barely able to hold back her tears. And as they fell into one another's arms, they wept without a care.

"You poor, dear girl," said Aravis. "What happened? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Aravis, it has all gone wrong. That man I wanted to marry—the one who bought me the cheetahs—he was a traitor and a murderer." Aravis gasped, but Lasaraleen went on. "Did you hear about what happened in Rasul?"

"Oh, those poor people—and that disease. You mean—"

Lasaraleen nodded and sniffled. "He did it. He killed them all. Oh, Aravis, I married a murderer!"

"Oh, you poor dear…" And their breaths fell into sobs as they hugged again. "Oh, Lasaraleen, come. We have so much catching up to do."

"O dear friend, I can't—not yet. My husband's employers want to release the blood fever all over Erizad. The Narnians might be willing to send medicine, but they won't if they don't believe Faraji's story."

"Then we must make haste," said Aravis.

"Indeed," said Philip. "Let us put this matter to rest so we can attend to a more pleasant matter—namely, supper. Faraji! Come and—"

A pause. Philip glanced about the courtyard. "Where is he?"

One of the guards caught his attention. "Right here, Philip," said the black-haired man. "I did not realize it until now, but Faraji was standing directly behind me." The man stepped aside, showing the frightened cheetah sitting on all fours.

"Spotted one," said Philip, "what are you doing? Come and meet my people—"

At once, Queen Susan held her hands to her mouth and gasped. Her face went pale with horror. Faraji responded with equal horror: His mouth hung open, and tears started to fill his eyes.

"What is it?" said King Edmund. "My fair sister, what is the matter?"

She lifted a trembling hand and pointed a finger at Faraji. "It's Beresh."

Peter's face fell. "What?"

Prince Cor tilted his head. "Father, who is Beresh?"

"I should know who that is," he said. "He killed your mother just after you were born."

At once the air filled with the scraping of swords out of their sheaths and the nocking of arrows against their groaning bowstrings. An archer flicked his eyes toward King Lune. "With your permission, Sire, I would like to finish him off."

"Wait a minute!" said Edmund. "First of all, why would Beresh let anyone escort him? We know he was capable of killing twenty men and horse without any help; if this were Beresh, he would not have let himself be treated like a captive. Secondly, why would he act like a prisoner? The real Beresh would have no interest in making amends. Most importantly, he is not even alive to answer for what he's done. He was killed when the Erizadi invaded Tehishbaan twelve years ago."

Lune turned to the cheetahs. "Is that true?"

Saheeb nodded. "My King, I know you have no reason to trust us. After all, my son was guilty of heinous acts against your people. But I swear by the Lion you serve that I had no part in any of his misdeeds. That is why my queen and I have brought from Calormen a token of our esteem, in the hope that you would think of us as friends."

Faraji's face fell. He turned to Nazeen and whispered, "What gift?"

Nazeen shook her head. "I don't know," she whispered. "Father, what are you talking about?"

"Hush!" said Zareenah. "Your father is in the middle of negotiations. Do not interrupt."

Saheeb didn't seem to notice it. Instead, he turned to King Lune with something of a smile on his face. "My lord, I only hope that I can have the honor of calling you my king. I hereby renounce all my allegiance to Calormen, as it was a nation that once kept me and my family as slaves. Calormen has turned its back on me, and now I turn my back on Calormen. Therefore, what more is there to say, but: To Narnia and the North!"

Faraji glowered at him. You lie.

"Your allegiance is heartening," said Lune in a dull voice, "but that still does not answer the question: If this cheetah is not Beresh, then who is he?"

Peter let out a heavy breath. "I think I know," he said, aiming his hard gaze at Faraji. "You're his brother, aren't you? Haroshta?"

Faraji blinked the tears out of his eyes. "Yes, mehan."

Another wave of complaints broke across the courtyard. "He's still a monster, by any other name," said one of the archers. "Let's finish him off!"

"Stand down!" said King Lune. "It seems there is a long story to be told, and we might as well hear the end of it. Bergan, you and your men will take the cheetahs to the western hall. Philip, Lasaraleen, you will join us. The rest of you will prepare for the evening feast. Whatever it is that the cheetahs have brought to Anvard, I want a complete inspection of it. It will not do to have any of our Kings and Queens falling over dead because of something in their wine."

"Yes, Your Highness," said Bergan. With a nod, he spun on his heel, and his men filed into two long columns, with Faraji and the rest of the cheetahs walking in between.

Peter laid the letter back onto the silver tray. A sad smile tugged at his beard. As he proceeded to the other letter, he shook his head in wonderment. "No wonder you were convinced," he said to Philip. "It looks exactly like my handwriting, and the cause is certainly noble enough for a Narnian. If I had heard about Reza's son, I might have indeed sent you to Erizad."

A moment's silence passed. The only sound in the stone hall was rain pouring outside the open windows. Thunder boomed and rattled the walls when a flash came too close, but neither man nor beast spoke.

The western hall felt like Aslan Hall at Andur—no decor, no paintings, nothing but stone walls and flickering candles. It felt more like a dungeon that sat above ground than a hall where court was conducted. The Kings and Queens sat on stone thrones that backed up to the far wall, with King Lune sitting on the highest throne, and the Kings of Narnia to his left and the Queens to his right.

Lucy turned to Saheeb. "You could have told us all this and spoken like honest friends," she said. "Why would you deceive Philip and Faraji?"

"Milady, I had no choice. My family was in danger—I dared not do anything that might expose them. If your people had been involved, you might have endangered our lives."

Susan finally spoke. All the while, she had been glowering at Faraji, making the cheetah balk at her angry gaze. Now, she aimed her eyes elsewhere as she said, "Why would you bring your son to the North?"

"They didn't," said Philip. "Your Majesty, he brought himself here of his own accord. In fact, he had opportunities to leave for Erizad, but he refused. He wanted to ensure that his family would arrive here safely, and more urgently, he needs to ask you a great favor."

Susan looked nonplussed. Instead, her face seemed to darken in reply.

Faraji stepped forward, looking Lucy in the face. "Meha, is it true that you have a medicine of extraordinary power?"

Lucy nodded. "Indeed, though it is presently at Cair Paravel."

Faraji sighed in relief. "I have no right to ask of you, but I cry your help. My people are in danger. Calormenes are about to release the Red Death across Erizad, and your cordial may be the only antidote in the world. If you would deliver it to Erizad, I would personally serve you and your people to repay the debt."

Lucy opened her mouth to reply, but Peter saw what she was going to say. "Faraji, we don't know anything about this illness. We don't know if Her Highness's cordial would have any effect; as we have come to learn, there are some injuries and illnesses it cannot heal. Moreover, the potion is difficult to come by. Because of its power and scarcity, it is to be used in the gravest of emergencies. Should another war break out, we may have to use it to treat the wounded."

"I realize that, mehan, but I have nowhere else to turn. The Red Death does not respond to any of my people's medicines. Unless Aslan deigns to help my people, Narnia is my only hope."

Edmund nodded. "Philip, can you testify to this?"

"Yes, Your Highness. The day after we set off for Narnia, the disease broke out in Rasul. Over a hundred men and beasts fell ill within a matter of hours, and Faraji was one of only six survivors." Murmurs of surprise and alarm filled the hall, but Philip carried on. "Later, when we were in Tashbaan, he found the man who carried out the attack. The man confessed not only to the crime but to his involvement in a much greater conspiracy. In fact, this man would have disposed of all of us if Faraji hadn't saved our lives."

Edmund turned to Faraji. The king showed a hint of a smile, which made Faraji feel at ease. "It seems we owe you a debt of gratitude," he said.

"Not as much as I owe Philip," said Faraji. "He was brave enough to go upstream and find the infected body. My people were too frightened to even consider it, but Philip and a brave young man named Tarin Araz went into Calormen. If it hadn't been for them, the disease would have spread even further."

Peter leaned forward. "But who was this man who tried to kill you?"

Lasaraleen stepped forward. "It was my husband, Mirradin. He thought that the Tisroc's alliances with Narnia and the North were a disgrace. He took it upon himself to restore Calormen to her former glory, to wage war against Erizad and make his own name a terror to the world."

"And what do your cheetahs have to do with this?"

"Mirradin bought them and made them his slaves. I tried to rescue them, but Mirradin threatened to kill us all if we left him."

Saheeb's head hung low, as if from fatigue. He blinked his one eye. "Your Majesty, I was desperate to save my family. Mirradin was hurting my wife and daughter, and he was hurting his own wife. She did everything she could to protect us, but he would not have it. I sent letters to the Erizadi, asking them to send Haroshta back to us, and no one answered. I did not intend to deceive your horse, and I did not intend to deceive you. But we were desperate—we had to do something. All we want now is to live out the rest of our days in peace."

Faraji glared at Saheeb. The old cheetah's emotions seemed to come forth with great effort, and the kings and queens were looking at him with pity. But King Lune was the only one who showed no trace of concern.

"You say you have nothing against us," he said in a low voice. "But are you telling us the truth?"

Saheeb's face fell. "What do you mean, my lord?"

"Do you deny that your son is Beresh?"

"No, my lord."

"Do you deny that Beresh committed capital crimes against Narnia and the North?"

"No, my lord."

"Why would your son do these things? No Tarkaan would deign to take him into battle, and no Tisroc, either. Who is responsible for what Beresh has done?"

All eyes turned to Saheeb and Zareenah. Faraji waited for an explanation. He longed for them to speak their piece and be done, but no answer came.

Saheeb gave a pitiful mew. "My lord, Beresh was a murderer and a torturer. He was a rebellious and insolent son; he did whatever he could of his own accord. I told him and Haroshta to guard our northern border, but Beresh seemingly did much more than that. If his orders came from anyone other than himself, they never came from me or his mother."

And without warning, Faraji felt the words fly past his lips. "YOU LIE!"

The court murmured and exchanged glances. Philip nickered and said, "Spotted one?"

Faraji didn't hear it. "I have covered for you long enough, and I cannot go on. You can continue this façade, but you are not fooling me. The truth is coming out, and you have condemned yourself by your own duplicity. You lied about your involvement in Beresh's life, just as you lied about your involvement in mine!"

"My dear son—"

"SHUT UP!" said Faraji. "We are standing before the royalty of Narnia, and even now you are lying to their faces. You promised to ruin me if I told the truth, and I gave in to that request. Not anymore!" By now, Faraji had begun to sob. "By the Man or Lion, or whatever Aslan is, I will tell the truth, even if I should die! I cannot stand to see the two of you breathe lies to these people!"

He swung to the Kings and Queens, making no effort to hide the misery on his face. "Thirteen years ago, Father sent me on my first mission. He told me the High King was plotting to kidnap the Talking Beasts of Calormen. There was a rumor that Queen Susan knew of it and was planning an operation. I went to Narnia in the second year of your reign; I went to Beaver's Dam, where I knew Her Majesty was expected to be...and I...I...I attacked her! I attacked your Queen!"

Faraji burst into tears and cried anew. Murmurs rippled across the vaulted hall, and Lucy and Peter shared looks of worry. It was here, as she stared at Faraji, that Susan's dour face started to lose its austerity.

"Meha, I know you don't believe me, but can only say how sorry I am for what I've done. You have no reason to forgive me, because I have done nothing to earn your forgiveness, but I am sorry, anyway. If you want to imprison or torture or kill me, please—I beg you—don't put me before Aslan."

Faraji started sobbing again. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath.

"What do you mean?" said Lucy. "What is this about Aslan?"

Faraji sobbed a while longer as the room fell still. He was the only one who had made any noise, but he didn't care now.

As Faraji's sobs softened, Peter let out a long-held breath and turned to Philip. "Can you explain any of this?"

Whatever look was on Philip's face, it had no name or description. It was the kind of look that sat halfway between one emotion and another—between anger and pity, but not knowing what to choose.

The horse nickered and scraped a hoof against the stone floor. "Sire, I…" But a lump caught in his throat. "When he and I first met, he told me he had never been to Narnia before. And now...what am I supposed to say?"

Edmund spread his hands apart. "Why would he think Aslan wants to kill him?"

At that, Philip started to take on a haughty look, and something particularly nasty came to mind—but one glance at Faraji's sobs (and the tears puddling on the floor beneath his face) made him think better of it. "My lord, I was with him when I escorted him out of Erizad. What his people did to him, I would never wish on anyone. The Erizadi keep their people in line using threats and lies. It is the fear of a Man Aslan, who kills people for the slightest of offenses, is their greatest weapon. Faraji thinks that Aslan is hunting him down now, to put him to death for what he has done."

Faraji lifted his face. He flushed when he realized he hadn't stopped himself from crying yet. "Mehan, I know I am asking too much, but please…help my people, and don't put me before Aslan!"

For a moment, the only sounds in the hall were the rain and thunder outside. Down the corridor came the marching of boots, followed by the groaning open of the double doors. Four soldiers carried in a crate big enough to hold a lion. Bergan lifted his hat from his head and gave a bow. "This is one of the crates the cheetahs told us about. It was delivered to us while they were en route."

"What of the other one?"

"Food for the feast. This second one is more mysterious."

Peter stared at Saheeb. "Tell us what's in it."

Saheeb rose on all fours. "As cheetah king of Calormen's beasts, I acquired a great many treasures. Many of them once belonged to the Tarkaan whom I formerly called my master. I have amassed 200,000 crescents in gold, 100,000 crescents in silver, and 30,000 crescents' worth of jewels. With the help of the Tarkheena, I have also brought to you her husband's finest wine and spirits. I have also brought the finest breads and cakes, all the property of her late husband."

Peter nodded at Bergan. "Open it."

Bergan stuck a chisel between the lid and the wall of the crate. The wood gave a loud crack as the lid came loose, and Bergan stood over the mouth of the crate. "Indeed, everything is here, except—" A pause as he sifted through the right side of the crate, and he looked up at King Lune. "I say! Your necklace, your medallion, your scepter—they have all been returned."

Lune stood up from his throne and stared with his mouth half-open. "After thirteen years," he said, his eyes drifting to Saheeb, "you returned these to me...and all I want to know is why. Forgive me for not showing my gratitude. How is this your responsibility?"

The room fell awkwardly still. All eyes were on Saheeb now. Faraji half-expected someone to accuse the cheetah king of stealing the treasures. But then, Saheeb twitched his tail and lifted his head with a haughty smile, at at once Faraji knew something terrible was about to be said.

With that, Saheeb turned to Faraji. "Tell them," he said. "Tell them how you assassinated his wife and stole his treasures...Beresh."

Faraji knew it was coming, but when it came, he was filled with so many emotions all at once, he didn't know which one to feel. The worst of them was the flushing of his face; he felt as if he had been kicked and slapped. Tears started to well up in his eyes again, and he threatened to sob as Lune stabbed a finger at him. "I knew it."

"Father?" said Nazeen. "What are you doing?!"

"My king," said Saheeb, "I apologize on behalf of my son. As he refuses to repent of his crimes, we have to do it for him."

"Damn it, Father, I have done nothing of the sort!" said Faraji. "Explain it to them, Mother!"

She brushed it away with a scoff and turned to Lune. "He stole your treasures from you, Sire—including your queen, the most precious treasure a man could own."

"That's a lie!" said Nazeen. "He didn't do anything like that!"

Saheeb lifted a paw. "Enough. Don't cover for your brother. He has spilled enough blood to fill a lake ten times over, and now he has the audacity to lie about his deeds. And what a shame that he can't tell the truth! We brought him here to make him account for what he did."

Philip's mouth fell open. "What?!"

"That's a lie!" said Nazeen.

"I thought you were no good, and now I'm certain of it," said Lasaraleen. "You called him Haroshta. You told us the stories. You looked us in the face and said Beresh was killed."

"By Aslan, I don't know what you're talking about!" said Saheeb. "And by the way, why haven't you taken responsibility for all those people who died in Rasul? Your husband killed them, and you gave hearty consent to it."

Peter sighed and shook his head. "It will take us the better part of the night to get to the bottom of this. There are too many accusations and not enough evidence to support half of them. We will reconvene when Aslan returns and puts things right."

Faraji's face went all weepy again. "No!"

"Were you of unblemished reputation, you would have been on your way. But as it is, your crimes against us are too serious to ignore. Without enough evidence to render a verdict, I have no choice but to take this to the highest of all high kings."

"But mehan, he will kill me!"

A look of sorrow fell upon Peter's face. He had never seen a creature so miserable as this. But when he lifted his head again, a stern frown had fallen. "I have no choice," he said softly. "If that is what Aslan thinks fit, he will pass judgment one way or another. I'm sorry."

"No!" sobbed Faraji. "NO!"

And he turned about and burst for the open window.

"Faraji!" said Philip.

"Brother!" cried Nazeen.

But by the time the words left their mouths, Faraji had sprung away. He soared out the window and disappeared into the gloom. Bergan rushed to the window and looked out at the curtains of rain. Faraji had already vanished into their folds.

Nazeen growled. "Father, what have you done?!"

"Be quiet, Nazeen."

"Haroshta saved our lives, and this is how you repay him?"

"That cheetah is not Haroshta. That is Beresh, so stop filling this room with your lies."

"If you don't take back your words, you are not my father!"

Saheeb blinked his eye and looked her in the face, then bowed his head. "Fair enough."

Philip snorted and flicked his eyes toward Saheeb. "Your son was right to doubt you. He should have gone back to Erizad. Instead, we brought you to Narnia and the North, and what happened? You accused an innocent woman and you disowned your children. It should be you confessing your crimes; instead, Faraji did."

"Philip, enough!" said Peter. "Saheeb and Zareenah have not been charged with a crime. There is no evidence to warrant their prosecution. But their son is guilty of a capital offense, and right now, only Aslan can determine whether he has mended."

"Your Highness, I was in Rasul when the disease broke out. Whether or not Faraji has mended, Erizad needs our help."

"If we send one of our eagles to Erizad, the Calormenes might kill him before he can deliver the cordial. But if we send Faraji to Erizad, he might not go there at all. I will not ask my sister to part with the cordial until this matter is sorted out."

"But Faraji—"

"You don't know him as well as you think," said Peter. "Philip, he lied to you. He tortured my sister. If you had a sister and Faraji attacked her, would you give him the medicine?"

The horse gave no answer.

King Lune brought his scepter down onto the stone floor. "This matter will be settled when Aslan arrives. Saheeb, you and your wife and daughter will be kept under guard until then. Lasaraleen, as you have been implicated in this conspiracy, I have no choice but to do the same. Bergan, you and your men will look for Beresh. Once you and your men find him, you will place him in maximum security. You will not let any man or beast visit him, and you will not grant his requests without my permission. This court is adjourned...and now, perhaps, we can proceed to more pleasant matters."

At that, Bergan and his men led the cheetahs out the double doors, and all swung to the left as Philip swung to the right and headed for the eastern stables. As soon as the double doors boomed shut, King Lune leaned back on his throne. "This has been a troubling evening, and no mistaking that."

Peter nodded.

"I am still not convinced of his innocence," said Lune. "He resembles Beresh in everything but his speech. I shouldn't wonder if Beresh is trying to trick us again."

Edmund grimaced. "It is his parents I despise. Of all the cheek! To accuse their own son and disown their own daughter."

Susan sighed and laid her head in a hand. "Oh, Ed, if only I had spoken up."

"Why, Su?"

"I could have forgiven him then and there. If I had, he wouldn't have run away."

"We don't know that," said Peter. "Besides, he is guilty of a crime against you. He attacked and tortured you—"

"He leapt at me and clawed my shoulder, Peter. That was all. He didn't have a chance to do anything else. It was horrible what he did, but it was not beyond forgiveness. He is not the same cheetah who attacked me so long ago."

Edmund gave a sad smile. "And there are worse things one can do, like betray one's brother and sisters to a witch. If that sort of traitor can change, perhaps Faraji already has."

"Oh, dear brother," said Lucy, "what are we to do about him? I have never seen a creature look so frightened. What do you think the Erizadi did to him?"

Peter numbly shook his head. "We have a cordial that can heal a fever, mend a broken bone, and pull people from the brink of death, but there is no magic powerful enough to reverse a fear like that."

Lucy paused. "Except Aslan."