Mister God, this is Anna.
~ Fynn

Now all the vast, low earth rippled softly in gentle colors under a faded sky. Grasses were golden-stemmed, and over the prairie they spread a coverlet of buff and tan and brown and warm brownish-gray; only the sloughs were darker with green.

By the Shores of Silver Lake

~ Laura Ingalls Wilder

IV.
Narnia
The First Year of High King Peter

Timeseer stamped a hoof and refolded his arms, raising and deepening his voice to carry across the beach. "My tale begins over two centuries ago, with Shale and Birk, the last good Kings of Narnia, twin brothers who ruled from twin thrones in in this very castle, Cair Paravel."

"Did they have any sisters?" said Lucy.

"Nay, good maid. The brother-kings married sisters, and then there were four thrones. To King Shale and Queen Wren there were born one son and two daughters; to King Birk and Queen Silva, two sons and one daughter. When they died, the Kings left the land to all six children equally. But it was a legacy of war and not of peace, and the cousins fought among themselves until four lay dead, and the sacred Stone Table was stained with Human blood. Then King Birk's second son crowned himself and his cousin-wife King Than and Queen Briar, and moved his seat from Paravel to the Castle Ravenswood in the north, just east of Lantern Waste."

Peter frowned, trying to work out where that would be.

"For a century, the Kings of Narnia ruled from Ravenswood, each worse than the one before, until there came King Drake, the last and worst. His father was of the ancient line, yes, but his mother was a high-ranking Tarkheena of Western Calormen—a Tarkheena, Queen Susan, is a noble lady in the Empire of Calormen, which lies south of Narnia, beyond Archenland and beyond the fierce desert. King Edmund, in your studies, have you learned aught of whom the Calormenes worship?"

Edmund was poking at the fire with a stick, but now he straightened. "The Calormenes do not worship Aslan, but Tash, who has four arms, claws, and the head of a vulture."

"Nearly correct," said Timeseer, "but Beasts have claws and Birds have talons. The Calormenes worship many gods, among them Tash. Drake's mother taught him not to love Aslan, but to serve as she herself did the heathen gods of the south. Thus, when Drake became King, he thought not of Aslan or Aslan's creatures, but mistrusted the Talking Beasts and surrounded himself with Human courtiers—advisors who were deaf, blind, and dumb."

Lucy opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but Susan held a finger to her lips and Timeseer went on.

"Not one had the sight of an Eagle—" (Clearscry adjusted her wings) "the hearing of a Bat, the smell of a Hound—" (Sagepaw sniffed the air ostentatiously) "the constancy of a Badger, the speed of a Leopard—" (Fleetfoot, lying on his back with his paws in the air, could not then have looked less speedy) "the music of a Faun—" (Libruns nodded) "or the wisdom of a Centaur."

Lucy mouthed a silent oh.

"Aslan gave Narnia to Men as a kingdom, and he gave the Men to Narnia as kings and protectors, but she is a land of Beasts and Birds, Nymphs and Fauns, Dwarfs and Centaurs. It is not for the King to exalt himself over his people." Timeseer looked hard at High King Peter, and the boy looked levelly back, nodding once. The children had already learned to address the Narnians as "Cousins."

"Did King Drake also marry a Tarkheena?" asked Edmund.

"Nay. His marriage was political, and though he kept a dark-eyed dancing girl from Calormen as his mistress, his Queen was a flaxen-haired princess of Archenland. Queen Althea." He was silent a moment. "She was a good woman and a better Queen than some. She loved Aslan and treated his creatures well, though not accustomed to them from childhood, and her husband's excesses grieved her, for he squandered Dwarf-minted gold on the gaudy splendoring of Castle Ravenswood: solid gold dishes for daily meals; a gold and ivory throne with six steps and figures of lions and vultures at each end; a jewel-encrusted shrine to Tash; slaves from Calormen to wait upon him and peacocks, monkeys, and kangaroos for his zoo."

Susan frowned. "Did he have any children?"

"Children, yes—black-haired bastards from his mistress—but no heirs, for Drake did not love his Queen and she remained childless, though she prayed often to Aslan for a son who would restore Narnia.

"'The land hath fallen,' said she, 'the people are oppressed and led astray by a King who knoweth you not. Great Lion, grant me a son and I will teach him to love your truth, your ways, and your creatures. I will teach him to give magnanimously, to love tenderly, to judge wisely, and to fight courageously, that he may restore your peace to Narnia.'

"The Queen was often lonely, for she would not take part in the revels of her husband's court and his love for her was not increased by her failure to give him an heir; but she had a good friend in Lady Celia, who lived with her increasing family not far from Ravenswood. Often the Queen walked among her people, and she was one of those who are close to Aslan. At last, in the tenth year of King Drake's reign, Aslan remembered Queen Althea, and she conceived.

V.
Telmar

Peter had sailed to the Lone Islands and to Terebinthia, had fought Giants in Ettinsmoor, had made a diplomatic visit to Tashbaan, and had flown through the mountains of the Western March—but Telmar was different. He supposed Aslan had made this valley, just as he had made the rest of the world, but Aslan must have used a different palette to paint it. The landscape was mostly dusty tan and faded sage, treebark-brown and pale flax. Even the grass was a tawny green, not the lush verdance of Narnian hills; and dotted with piny scrub.

A town—about a hundred cabins—lay in the center of the valley, with fields of grain to the right and north, and smaller clusters of cabins dotted here and there. Though the mountains ranged around the nearly-circular valley like dark-blue sentinels, the sky felt wider and freer than in forested Narnia. Peter tried to keep his eyes open.

At first the village looked quite near, but they flew on for nearly five miles before they came to it. By the time they slackened their speed and coasted to the ground, the sun was perched atop the highest peak ahead, the point of which curved sideways at an impossible angle. Clearscry settled on Peter's gloved hand, the Winged Horses re-formed their vee with the Wolves between them; then they all stood a moment and looked at the sight ahead.

A crowd had gathered at the edge of town—men with weathered faces, some holding spears, and unsmiling mothers keeping their children close. All eyed the Dragon, the Winged Horses, the great gray Wolves. It was indeed a motley people, some as dark as men from Southern Calormen, some fair as Narnians, some fairer still with hair red as sunset.

"Ho, sir!" called Peter to a young man with sandy brown hair and dark-tanned skin. "Pray send word to thy Chief and King that Peter, High King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion is come, with Queen Lucy our sister, to see him."

The youth touched his hand to his forehead in salute and hurried away. Peter and Lucy waited, looking about. The crowd numbered about two score, and a not-quite-peaceful wildness hung about them. They wore buckskins and undyed wool, with moccasins for their feet, all beautifully fringed and decorated with silver and blue stones. The little girls had their hair braided with silver wire, leather thongs, and glinting bits of gray-gold stones.

The houses behind the people were built of rough logs and daubed with mud, but most of the dooryards had been swept and tidied, and the chimneys looked homey. To the south a sizeable herd of cattle, a smaller and separate horse herd, and a few sheep grazed on the short, curly grass; to the north, Lucy thought she recognized a wheat field. She was no judge of wheat, and it was too far to see how good the cows were, but there were many of them. Back home in Narnia, what livestock had not been killed by the mobs before the winter had been eaten during the long years of starvation; and though the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve who returned after the winter brought cows and chickens with them, milk was still a rarity in Narnia and most dairy was imported as cheese from Archenland. (Chrysophylax had drunk all the milk from the Cair's cow for a week before coming; after that he had drunk water, eaten bread, and stayed away from meat, but still he steamed like a teakettle.)

At last the young man with the sandy hair returned, bringing two older men. All three saluted, right hands to temples, and the oldest, who had a silver earring in his ear, said, "Belisan, Chief of Telmar, King of the Mountains, Captain of the Telmarines, and Knight of the Exalted Order of the Wild Hawk, invites Peter and Lucy, High King and Queen of Narnia, to join him and his queen at board."

Peter gave a small bow. "Give thy Chief and King our thanks, but we shall not eat until he hath heard our words."

The man with the earring saluted. "Chief Belisan, King of the Mountains, does not do business after the sun touches Cutlass Peak."

Peter gazed steadily at the man. "We of Narnia do not eat when scores are yet to be settled."

The man sketched a third salute. "What scores are you talking about?"

Peter inclined his head. "Tell thy Chief that if he had read our missive, as his reply indicated, he would know that Telmarine hunters have killed two of our people. One of the hunters have we brought to him."

The man raised an eyebrow, saluted once more, and went away. This time he was gone only long enough for Lucy to smile at a little red-haired girl with a solemn face. When he returned, he bowed awkwardly.

"Chief Belisan, King of the Mountains, invites High King Peter and Queen Lucy of Narnia to come speak with him, but asks that they leave their dragon, their horses, and their wolves here."

"By no means," said Peter. "Our friends and companions shall accompany us."

The man looked helplessly at his companions, then set off through the streets, glancing back often at the Dragon, who trotted docilely behind Lucy, the prisoner's lead rope in his mouth. The Winged Horses had to form a double line, for the narrowness of the street, and the Wolves fell behind them. The sandy-haired youth and the other man kept their distance.

VI.
England

One should go down to get into a burrow or a den, but the steps here went up, and then there was a very tall tunnel with rooms off of it. Mr. 'Nuffleroot's tunnels weren't big enough for Mans, but did Mr. Man's tunnels have to be so very tall? Nevertheless, it was warm inside, and soon they came to a room where there were lots of papers with writing on them. Mr. Man cleared some papers off a kind of stool with four legs and a back, and invited him to take a seat. Frank sat down on the rug with Yi and waited.

There was a thing on the wall—round with numbers on it—making noise. It went click, click, click, like a beetle—or maybe it was tick, tick, tick. Maybe it was trying to talk to him. He made click-ticks back at the thing, but it didn't pay any attention.

Mr. Man poured something from a bottle into a mug and handed it to him. There were bubbles on top, and it didn't really smell like ginger. Frank took a sip. It tickled and burned in his mouth and he coughed.

"You all right?" said the Man, pouring himself some "ginger-beer" and sitting down on a stool-with-a-back.

Frank nodded and took another sip. It didn't taste like ginger, either. It tasted like . . . bubbles. He thought he liked it.

"Well, here I am," said the Man, "right in the middle of my Sunday sermon. I think I hear something outside, and there you are, just sitting on the step. Where are your parents, Frank? Do you have a mum and dad?"

He shook his head. He had heard the others talking about this. "No muvver. No father. Muvver good woman. Poor child."

Mr. Man blinked. "How old are you?"

Frank had to set down Yi to hold up two fingers. Then he remembered he had just had a birthday. Mrs. 'Winklewacks said he was three now. He looked at his hands and put up one more finger.

"What happened to your mum and dad?"

Frank had to think about that. He didn't quite know. Mr. 'Nuffleroot was Ruffle'nout's and Tusslebrock's father, and Mrs. 'Nuffleroot was their mother. He had once had a mother. Had he had a father? "Bad woman," he said at last. "Witch. No father, no muvver no more." He drank some more ginger-beer. It sparked in his nose. Mr. Man was looking straight at him, and he looked away.

"Who takes care of you?"

"Mr. 'Nuffleroot. Mrs. 'Nuffleroot. Aunt 'Ears'ry. Mrs. 'Winklewacks. Uncle Pewiwig. Uncle Panfer an' Soot'will went 'way. Bad woman taked them."

"Where did she take them?"

His forehead wrinkled up. "Uncle Pewiwig says her killed them. Mrs. 'Winklewacks says, don't say 'round Fwankie." He peeked up at Mr. Man, who was looking away now. "Where d'you live, Mr. Man?"

"Me? Just across the field in the parsonage."

"What's a pars'nige?"

"It's the house where I live. Where do you live?"

"In th' sett."

"The sett?"

He nodded. "Wif th' Badgers."

Mr. Man sat back. "Badgers, you say?"

He nodded again and held out his mug. "Good Nanimals. C'n I have more?"

The Man poured more ginger-beer in his mug.

"Thankee," he said.

"Where is this sett?" said Mr. Man. "How did you get here?"

He thought about that. How did he get here? He had been with Mrs. 'Winklewacks. She was teaching him how to hold up three fingers. Then they heard the snarling and the barking overhead, and Mrs. 'Winklewacks had looked away. Then he was in the green place, where it was warm and quiet, and Aslan was there, and Aslan licked his face. He had said, don't be afraid, and he would take care of Frank, and— "As'an said him would come wif me. Why tan't I see him?"

"Ass-an?

He looked at Yi's threadbare mane. "Him's big Lion. Him maked everyfing. An' the Nanimals an' the Mans an' the Trees an' the Rivers an' the Badgers an' the Hedge'ogs an' Fwank. Everyfing."

Mr. Man was blinking again, like Soot'will the Owl used to blink in the sun. Slowly, he said, "God made everything, the seen and the unseen, the plants and animals and us and the stars—"

Frank nodded vigorously. "Him maked 'tars, too. 'Tars sing."

"Yes—well—God made everything, and He is always with us, but we can't see Him."

"Why?"

"Well, God is a spirit, and you can't see spirits."

"Tan."

"Pardon?"

"Tan too see 'pirits. Twees have 'pirits. Waters have 'pirits, an tan too see them."

"Most of us can't."

"Why?"

The Man sighed. "Spirits are invisible. God is a spirit. God is invisible."

"Why?"

"God is a Spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth."

Frank didn't know what those words meant. He knew that Aslan had made him, that Aslan smelled good and was furry and warm and loved him. "As'an licked me, see?" He pointed to his forehead. "I seed him. An' him's gone. Why?"

Mr. Man put his chin in his hands. "I don't know. I don't know who Ass-an is. I think you said he's a lion who made you. I don't know who you belong to. Why don't you come home and have tea with me and my wife, and then we can work things out. Want to come?"

Frank knew quite well who he belonged to, but tea meant bread and honey. "Yes," he said again, tucking Yi under his arm and standing up.