Chapter Eleven: Spent

I could not suppress a groan as I finally sank down onto the wooden bench at the communal table. Every inch of my body was filthy and ached and I knew that without a boiling hot bath between now and going to sleep there was no way I was going to move on the morrow. The only bath available was in the river though, and the thought made me shudder.

The past two days had been an absolute frenzy of productivity at the smithy when a load of finely crushed iron ore arrived unexpectedly from the mines to the south. The ore had been carried across the plains by a trio of Giant brothers who were on their way to Caldron Pool to visit their mother. To the relief of the Blue River Dwarfs, the Giants didn't linger long past breakfast once they tasted the beer.

We had worked each day from the moment we finished breakfast until well into the night to extract the iron from the mineral. It was complex work, more so than I had ever thought it would be, but I saw very little of the actual smelting because the demand for coal never ceased and I never stopped moving. All the furnaces were kept ablaze and Brickit grumbled happily as more raw material was produced. It was almost enough iron to see them into the summer months, he had said as the liquid metal was poured into molds of compressed sand. The molten pools of cooling iron had gone far towards satisfying the Master, and he came dangerously close to smiling at the sight of so much pig iron. They would make cast iron and the steel for which they were famous from this base material. The female apprentice, Binya, most junior of the three, was freed up in order to help me. There was no time for grumbling or petty grudges or even to think about anything other than the level of coal in the bin. We worked together well, Binya and I, wasting no words or precious energy as we got the job done.

Leaning heavily on my hand, I stared at the plate of food set before, unable to bring myself to eat. I was too worn out to have an appetite. I couldn't even smell the food over the stench of sweat and coal and burnt metal that clung to my clothes. Around me, the apprentices ate mechanically. The table was emptier than usual because the children had already been fed and were asleep. I envied them, wishing there was someone here tall enough to carry me to my bed. It struck me as amazing that I was actually longing for that low and sparse little room in Brint's house, and that the short, narrow, lumpy bed therein seemed the height of comfort. Either I was exhausted beyond measure or I had been here too long. The two options were too closely linked to tell them apart.

"Eat," ordered a gruff voice right beside me.

I managed to move my head far enough to look up at Brickit and let out a long sigh. "I'm too tired."

"Eat," he repeated, sitting down with his back to the table. "Spoon in hand, food in mouth. Simple even for you."

I couldn't even make an effort to return insult for insult. "I'm not hungry, Brickit."

"And do you think I want to explain to a king and two queens that you perished of starvation?"

I snorted. "I'm far from that point."

"Then eat and remove yourself a little farther from it."

I couldn't even taste the stewed venison, but a few mouthfuls down my gullet satisfied him. My limbs felt heavy and weak and the even the tiny spoon seemed weighty as lead in my grasp.

"You did good service these busy days, Spawn," he said.

I smiled faintly, too weary and stiff to do more, but happy to hear it.

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"Edmund! Edmund, wake up! Wake up, King Edmund!"

I coughed and groaned, too tired still to even swipe or growl at Brint's children. I was rocked roughly back and forth for what seemed an eternity and finally I managed to open my eyes. Brack grinned at me. I hated him.

"Wake up, King Edmund! Wake up!"

"Nnnny," I grunted, pushing myself up and him aside. "Go 'way!"

Giggling, they obeyed, rushing off with more energy than was right. I flopped back down and went straight back to sleep. It seemed like mere seconds before I was being shaken again.

"Edmund! King Edmund, you need to wake up!"

This time I roused with my traditional hiss and bared teeth. Repetition had dulled its effect on Baia.

"Breakfast is served!" Baia almost shouted. "It's dawn!"

"I'm up," I snapped savagely. "I'm up! Go away!"

But I lied. The moment Baia skipped off I was asleep again. Nothing short of dumping me in the river was going to wake me up today and Aslan help the Dwarf that tried it.

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"Not fevered, is he?"

The voice was muffled, but even so there was no mistaking the concern in Brickit's tone. I couldn't tell if they were in the room with me or just outside and I honestly didn't care so long as they didn't expect me to move. I was neither awake nor asleep, but in some cozy and heavy place between and I hoped I wasn't called upon to leave it.

"No," Gran patronized. "Exhausted he is. Leave him be and let him sleep. You push him too far, Chief Smith."

"I?" exclaimed the Dwarf indignantly.

"Aye," his mother agreed softly, and in my hazy state I could just imagine the frown she unleashed on her eldest son. It was glorious. "King he may be, and a willing hand in the smithy, but you've forgotten he's not more than a boy. He's of an age to Barlon's son and I don't see you working him so hard."

I could sense his shock as Brickit gasped, "What?"

"You let his height fool you, you fool! He's a child! A child filling a man's role and you set him at labor beyond his years and make his task here a chore. The High King of Narnia has entrusted his only brother to you, Brickit! He's given you an opportunity that has your cousins sputtering jealous and has made the Red Dwarf Clan green with envy. Don't be an ass and waste what your kings offer you. They aren't like her. They're nothing like her."

And on that warm and forceful testimonial, I lapsed back into a sleep so deep that I didn't even dream.

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I was awake when the door opened and Baia, shy for once, peeked into the room at me. Too comfortable to lift my head, I just smiled.

"You can come in, Baia."

She didn't smile, but she looked pleased to obey, coming in to stand beside the bed with her hands clasped behind her back. "Mama sent me to wake you and see if you wanted to eat. Dinner is almost ready. Are you hungry?"

"Very." I sat up stiffly and hung my head and coughed. I still felt very heavy and I knew that I would sleep well tonight despite a full day spent in bed. If I didn't stretch the moment my feet touched the ground I doubted I'd be able to stand up straight.

"Gran brought you more blankets. Were you sick?" Baia wondered, fetching my comb. "I was sick this winter and I had a fever and threw up my food. It was nasty."

Her candor and self disgust was amusing. "No, I'm not sick. I was just too tired to get up."

She nodded sagely. "I think you scared Uncle Brickit."

"Did I?" I mused as I dragged the comb through my tangled hair. "Good."

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Gran pinched my cheek as I thanked her for the heaping plate of food set before me. It seemed to me the Dwarfs were uncommonly merry for their kind, which really isn't saying a great deal since Black Dwarfs tend to look down upon raucous celebrations as a waste of time. One of the master smiths, the youngest of them, began to recite what at first I thought was a poem. There was a certain pleasing meter to his words. I listened for a little bit and I realized, after almost every word began with a 'B,' that he was telling the family tree to the children. The youngsters all listened raptly and the adults waited with predatory anticipation for a flaw in its telling. I listened for a little while and decided that it had to be the single-most boring thing I'd heard since I set foot in Narnia. I gave my attention back to my dinner and let the sound of the speaker's deep voice lull me like music.

"Better?"

I blinked. The Chief Smith and his brother sat down on either side of me, both of them eyeing me cautiously as if I might break. Brint carried a pitcher of beer and he refilled our cups.

"Much," I said, trying to swallow some of the sour liquid without pulling a face. "Thank you."

"These arrived for you by royal courier over the course of the day," said Brickit, handing over several tightly folded despatches. "Your brother sent them. The last arrived but an hour ago and the courier couldn't wait. My mother didn't want to wake you."

"She wouldn't have been able to," I muttered, suddenly concerned. The wax seals were black, not the normal red, signifying the urgency of the information. I hastily grabbed one of the letters, recognizing Peter's lion seal even as I broke it and unfolded the heavy paper. The message was brief, just a few lines, and I tossed it aside and seized the next. I was aware of both brothers watching me intently as I tore through the despatches. They weren't in any order but all in a similar vein and the last one I opened was the last to arrive.

"Oh, dear."