The cheetah flashed a smug smile at the Just King.

"Well, Sire? Are you going to pass judgment on these felons? Need I remind you that they stole from your coffers and they refuse to pay you back?"

Edmund went red in the face and slouched in his throne as he stared into the cheetah's haughty gaze. "It's not that simple, Saddiq: They can't get the money back even if they wanted to. Their families were hungry—"

"They should've thought of that before they started working for the White Queen. Besides, you've let enough of the Secret Police off the hook; justice has to be given at some point, don't you think?"

There was a long pause but no reply.

"Come on, Ed," whispered Peter. "Saddiq's running this place because you won't speak up."

"I can't! Aslan told me to keep him on, and I can't very well go against him!"

"Who? Saddiq or Aslan?"

The cheetah scoffed. "Oh, this is delightful. I study the laws of Aslan all my life and spend three years at university, and I'm playing advisor to two bickering children."

"Now look here, Saddiq," said Peter. "You can't go on talking like that. Aslan brought us here to sit on the thrones of Cair Paravel—"

"And the same Lion brought me here to teach the four of you. If you don't like that, then stand aside and let me rule."

Edmund and Peter gawked at him, but the cheetah ignored them.

"As for these felons," said the cheetah "they stole two weeks' worth of lions. I don't have to remind you that that's a felonious offense, the penalty for which is spelled out in Book IV, Chapter 1: 'Thieves who commit a felony act shall be imprisoned in the dungeon of Cair Paravel until such time as they work off their debt.' Perhaps you were unaware of this rather basic rule, but at least you learned it, n'cest pas?"

There was a pause, and one of the wolves stepped forward. He was a haggard and weathered beast, looking as if he'd been chewed up and spat out, and his accent was perfectly matched with the rest of his face. "Lookee, Sire," he said to Edmund, "we didn' mean any harm by youse. We was just tryin' to feed our pups and our womenfolk. Work's been hard to find, seein' as 'ow we're felons and all. But me an' Marshall, and Reynard and Tierney, we're tryin' to put things right. That's why we came 'ere instead of gettin' arrested."

Edmund looked impressed, but Saddiq scoffed. "And you think that justifies what you've done? You stole from Their Majesties' coffers!"

"We didn't wanna do it, Sir, but—"

"Why couldn't you steal from a neighbor or an acquaintance?"

"We're talkin' about our fellow Narnians, Sir. Stealin' their livelihood is a certain kind of cruel. We figured it wouldn't hurt anyone if we stole from the Kings and Queens—"

"It's treason, you bollock-brained mouth-breather!" the cheetah said. "Every single lion is for war and trade. What do you think would have happened if Their Majesties were in the middle of an exchange and 50 lions were missing?"

"But we di'n't steal that many," said the fox. "They was just a few—"

"Oh, and by the way," said the cheetah, "every last one of you needs to work on your grammar. Whenever you start a sentence with the word 'they,' you do not follow it with 'was.' You follow it 'were.' Plural pronouns are followed by plural verbs: 'They were,' not 'They was.' Now I would appreciate it if you spoke in proper and delicious articulation so as not to embarrass me any further. Thank you."

Edmund's face twisted in fury, and he slammed the armrests of the throne and leapt out of the seat. "THAT'S IT!" he said. "Saddiq, you're done!"

The cheetah swiveled his cocky face at the High King. "...I beg your pardon?"

"I have had it up to here with you. You're arrogant, you're conceited, you act as if you rule Narnia, and you don't speak to anyone with the slightest hint of respect—"

"I grace you with my eloquent and delicious articulation—"

"SHUT UP, SADDIQ, I'M STILL TALKING!" roared Edmund. "I know your type. You talk a big game about following Aslan, but you don't care about him. All you care about is your reputation. You know all the laws and all the books on Aslan, but you don't know him. You just let it puff you up. All you do is strut about and display your knowledge, but you don't give anything of value. You're like a tone-deaf musician; you hear all the notes, but you don't sing in tune. And on top of it all, you expect everyone to sing along with you, as if you were Aslan himself. I have put up with you, but only because of Aslan's orders. I am not putting up with you anymore."

"Way to go, Ed!" said Peter with a pump of a fist.

The cheetah glared coldly at him, and a hint of a growl rippled through his voice. "I am here on authority of Aslan, boy. You do not relieve me of my post."

"Watch me," said Edmund. "Oreius, get him out of here."

"Gladly," said the centaur. "Saddiq, I advise you to come along willingly. If you resist, I will place you under arrest for trespassing."

The cheetah snarled at Edmund. "This isn't over, Son of Adam. You need me."

"I reckon I'll manage," Edmund muttered. "I'll give you this month's pay, and I'll make sure your belongings are delivered to you. But no one will let you in here again without my permission."

The cheetah growled at him and flashed a pair of fangs. "You will regret this," he said. "I swear you will."

Edmund gave no reply. As he watched the cheetah slink out of the throne room, he caught himself showing a slight smile, and the Just King found the strength to sit up in his throne again.

"Now, then," he said with a merry note in his voice: "Gentlemen, there is the matter of the money you stole. Under the circumstances, it would be best if you work off that debt. But instead of doing it in the dungeon, I reckon you could do it here. I can think of a place for all of you..."