It's not so terrible down here, she told herself as she huddled in the cargo ship's murky, watery hold. Why, Enna Stalresin wasn't supposed to be afraid of anything—her very surname meant 'strong spirit' in the ancient tongue!
Nevertheless, she clutched her knees to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut against the oppressive darkness of the cargo hold. Bilge water lapped at her ankles and dampened Sabsestrin's big, sturdy boots—the ones Enna'd pilfered from his trunk the night before she'd fled—and she was sure she heard the disembodied scratching of rats somewhere in this pit with her. The very thought made her shudder. She almost preferred the cold, treacherous, suicidal position by the figurehead to this abyss of psychological terrors. At least on the bow, she'd had fresh air and sunlight, if not the constant danger of drowning or being crushed under the weight of the ship in the water.
Enna sighed and dropped her head onto her arms. Her plait, though normally unmanageable and dreadfully thick, was stringy with dried salt, and her cheeks smarted with what was surely sun- and windburn. And she was terribly, terribly hungry. Even while lashed to the bow, she'd been able to snitch food and drink when she needed to—but now, as the captain's prisoner, she was completely and utterly ignored. Her pleas for food and water had fallen upon deaf ears.
Curse that Galmanian fool!
Enna clenched her hands together until they quivered with the effort. Had she known the Seacharger wasn't a foreign ship, she'd have never stowed away on it! Aye, and she was attempting to run away from all things Galma—Sabsestrin had ruined it for her. Calormen had seemed a good place to run to, but she'd quickly discovered that the ship was headed to somewhere much farther away: Narnia. Of course, by then, it had been too late to change her mind, and so she surrendered herself to months of plunging in and out of frigid water; it always seemed to lift her up right before she breathed in, and she was badly shaken even before noon. A lesser girl would have succumbed to the elements long before her.
You're out of the elements now, she chided herself. Count your blessings.
Safe, if not warm or content. But Enna shuddered to think what would happen once the ship docked. Any day now, if her eavesdropping proved correct. Already, she'd spent nearly a week in the brig.
Someone let me free!
Here it was again, that incontestable wave of agitation that made her leap to her feet and pace the entire length of the ship, sometimes over and over. Wanderlust, her mother had called it. Of course, that was before Sabsestrin had taken charge of their family…
Enna didn't dare think about it. A shiver of restlessness ran up her spine again, and she got slowly to her feet. But her lack of strength was alarming, and hot prickles of fear raced up her temples as she came to the realization that, try as she may, she just didn't have the energy to go more than a few stumbling steps across the wet, slick floor. Even on her minimal diet of stale water and hardtack, she'd never felt this weak.
Surely, she was starving to death.
Her knees buckled, and Enna collapsed to the floorboards. Hot, angry tears rushed to her eyes, and, despite herself, she began to cry softly, muffling her sniffles against her salt-stiffened sleeve. Sabsestrin's sleeve.
She must have fallen asleep, for suddenly, she found herself pressed against the grimy, barnacled walls. The gentle rocking of the boat had stopped, and footsteps echoed above her, accompanying shouts and—could it be?—the cries of gulls and terns.
They'd docked.
Enna was fully awake in an instant. Any moment now, they'd come charging down the ladder to take her ashore, where she'd face imprisonment—or worse.
Panic roiled in her stomach at the very thought, but she hadn't the energy to do anything about it. What was there to do, anyway? Begin to wail like a wee babe? Or perhaps flirt with the sailors?
Enna's derisive laugh seemed unnatural in the black, wet hold of the ship. She was too old to cry, but too young to make much of an impression on the old, callous, case-hardened seamen—if they'd even spare her plain features a second glance, that is. Besides—she'd heard stories about girls who did 'innocent flirting' with those types of men…they were the used, worn-out women that now haunted the docks in Galma, preying on the men that bore big stories and even bigger purses. No, Enna decided, death would be preferable over such a profession.
The footsteps overhead stopped abruptly, and Enna froze. Then, suddenly, the hatch was thrown open, and a grizzled, weather-beaten head thrust itself down into the hold. "Ho, sea rat," he called when he saw her. "Time to scurry ashore, eh?"
Enna turned her head toward the wall, hoping with every fiber of her being that the horrible face would disappear. No such luck.
"Destro! Galesh! Our sea rat is havin' a bit o' trouble getting' 'erself out o' the brig!" the head shouted gleefully. "What say you come and help 'er?"
At the head's command, two strapping brutes in stained tunics descended the ladder and hauled her to her feet. The sudden movement made her head spin, and she sagged for a moment against one thick arm. But there was no sympathy whatsoever in their iron grips, and they carted her out of the brig into blazing sunlight. Mews and gulls shrieked over the deck, swooping between the main topgallant and the trysail like fish between fronds of seaweed. But it was the noise that shocked Enna the most: on the dock, scurrying like ants and bees, were hundreds of people, all different sizes, shapes, colors, and races, all shouting (or baying or snoinking) in their own distinct languages. The sky above the green hills beyond the wharf was a pure azure blue that taunted Enna's captivity, and for a brief moment, she felt a faint stirring of wanderlust in her spirit again.
But Destro and Galesh's unyielding grips offered nothing in lieu of hope, and they dragged Enna across the deck and down the gangplank, following in the wake of the ship's captain. The dock's occupiers looked on with faint interest as the small procession went, and Enna couldn't help but stare back at them. Sure, and she must look a sight, dressed in men's clothing and indubitably as weather-beaten as the seamen, but at least she was a human! The Narnians that watched her were all animals or unusual creatures of some kind—horses, dogs, dwarves, birds, sprites, badgers, fauns, and centaurs slowed to watch them pass.
"Excuse me, kind sirs."
Enna looked up as the procession stopped. A tall, ebony-coated centaur stood in their way, his burly arms crossed in front of a sun-browned chest and a narrow-eyed look of suspicion on his face.
"Yes, and what do you want?" the captain snapped.
The centaur twitched his tail impatiently. "Do you have authorization to dock here? Your ship is unfamiliar to my eye."
The captain scoffed. "Of course we have authorization. The Seacharger is a trade ship from the isle of Galma."
"What are you doing ashore, then, Captain?"
Enna found herself dangling a few inches from the wood of the wharf. "This is why we're here," the captain said brusquely, and Destro shook Enna slightly. "We found her stowed away on the ship. A sea rat."
He spat the name with such poison in his tone that Enna involuntarily flinched. Come now, man, she thought, surely you don't think so of me. One look at the captain's craggy face, however, and Enna suddenly didn't care if he thought of her as such. Surely she thought so of him.
The centaur's arms relaxed a bit, and he stepped aside. "Carry on."
A cry of protest wrenched itself from Enna's throat as her captors stepped off of the dock. "Sure, and that's the first I've heard from the she-rat," the captain spat with a cavalier glance in her direction.
"Can easily be resolved, sir," Galesh growled, and Enna fixed him with the darkest look she could manage.
"No need, Galesh, no need," the captain said, looking off to the sea. Enna followed his eyes: a long, mist-shrouded strip of land jutted out into the blue waters, and bright flashes of color flickered every so often from a large, but distant, structure. "The Narnian king shall see to her punishment."
Pain throbbed behind Enna's eyes, and her mouth was dry as cotton. But still her captors lugged her through a cool corridor, bedecked with ornate tapestries and thick carpets. Never had she seen such finery, but she was so faint that she could hardly spare even a fleeting look. Destro and Galesh pressed against her from either side, squeezing the very life out of her, and if she so much as stumbled, one or the other would give her aching arms a sharp tug. She was beaten, sure and neatly. Such heartache on her part, and for what? Only to meet her end in a foreign country, at the hands of a foreign king? She imagined that this Narnian monarch would be old and palsied, deaf and falling apart, with no compassion for a wretch as she.
Enna forced back a troubled sigh. Long had she entertained the dream that some benevolent old king without an heir would take a liking to her and name her as his sole successor, to take the kingdom upon his death. But never had she imagined that she would indeed meet a king, but as a despicable felon. A common criminal. A sea rat.
She felt all of her bravado ebbing away none too slowly. When the captain and the seamen stopped at a large set of richly carved oaken doors, she could think of nothing but the pain that awaited her behind them. Her legs wobbled dangerously.
"The kings and queens shall see you now, Captain Minodorus."
The doors swung open, and Enna found herself tripping over smooth flagstones.
"Your majesties," the captain said, sweeping an opulent bow.
"What business do you have here in Cair Paravel?"
Enna chanced a look at the speaker. There were four splendidly dressed young men and women seated in four ornate golden thrones on a raised dais, and numberless strange creatures milled in about the grand throne room. The speaker appeared to be the golden-haired and broad-shouldered young man seated on Enna's left, next to a dark-haired beauty with dark blue eyes. A coal-headed youth with wise bright blue eyes next to the young woman watched Enna with nothing less than boyish inquisitiveness, and a young girl about the same age as Enna's younger sister had her head tilted in a politely curious way.
"Begging your pardon, my liege," the captain said again, "but we found this…young woman stowing away on my trade ship."
"I see," said the golden-haired man.
Enna's legs began to give out as the four regal siblings stared her down. Her head grew light, and if it were not for the seamen on either side of her, she felt sure she would have fainted.
"What is your story, maiden?" the first queen asked.
Suddenly, Galesh and Destro shoved Enna forward. Her head spun as she cast about for an answer, but all she could think about was the weakness that washed over her—her starvation in the ship's hold had finally taken its toll. And then, abruptly, her knees buckled, and she sank to the flagstones, unable to do anything else.
Out of the corner of her fuzzy vision, she noticed the monarchs start from their thrones. Someone lifted her head. But, try as she might, Enna could not bring herself to stir.