Ch 5 - Catch And Release
Edmund and Lucy sat at the table in his cabin. He told her of Aslan's instructions for him-to play the traitor he once had been, to leave Narnia and make for the seas, where he would infiltrate the Witch's forces and learn what he could of her whereabouts and her plans. In the year since his departure from Narnia, Ed had amassed a breathtaking store of knowledge about enemy movements, as well as an alarming amount of riches.
"But Peter can use this! The intelligence, the gold!" she said.
"He is using it," Edmund said with a touch of annoyance in his voice. "Do you think I would keep it to myself when I know he needs it?"
"He says nothing of your work here."
"He knows nothing of it, and it's safer that way. I have a network, Lucy, just as I did when I was home." He waved a hand at the stack of letters on the table. "I have been feeding this to Narnia through my runners since the day I left. The information is what's important. The gold greases the wheels of those who would carry it."
She thought of the unsavory lot she'd seen on deck, not the least of which was the long-haired man who'd accosted her. "Do your men know?"
He shook his head, and Lucy felt a pang of sympathy for the loneliness he must have felt these many months. "They believe we run weapons for the Witch's allies. Which we do," he added. "Enough to have the look of supporting Jadis, without being too much in her favor. The rest are siphoned back to Narnia." He raised a brow at her. "I'm the privateer our dear brother doesn't know about."
Lucy noticed he didn't shirk from saying the Witch's name aloud as he used to do. "What if she finds out? Or that Nazi soldier who follows her?"
He grinned, and it was fully the old Edmund. "We also deal in misinformation. Brilliantly, I might add."
She answered the grin with one of her own. "How did you do it? How did you do all this in one year?" She sobered and added, "And all alone."
"I haven't been," he said. "I am still soulbound, Lu. Asha's with me wherever I go." He stood and rounded the table. He paused at her seat and kissed the top of her head. "And now you're here."
She smiled. "Aslan put me in your path on purpose, Ed. You needed me."
He held out his arm. "Let's check on the rest of your shipmates."
- # -
The storm had calmed at last, and the rain stopped. Van hung from the rigging by his knees, the better to get at a loose knot in the netting. Upside-down while he tied it, he noticed the captain and the woman walking down the deck. Sailors bowed out of their way, showing proper deference to their captain, and giving the woman lingering looks. A pretty pair, that. But this ship was no place for a woman.
The captain stopped below Van's perch. "Come down," he called.
The woman looked like she would rather he climb higher instead-maybe leap to his death from the crow's nest-but he obeyed, scrambling down the netting and dropping to the deck.
"Van, this is Lady Kirke," the captain said. The woman shot him a look, but the captain ignored it to add, "She is a guest, and she's to be treated with the highest respect. I'm putting you in charge of guarding her."
"Guard?" she repeated with a note of protest. "This man threw me on his shoulder like a sack of turnips!"
Van leered. "These are rough men. Better I do that quickly and get you to the safety of Cap'n's charge than let you linger about on deck."
"She's your charge now," the captain said. "I expect you to mind her closely."
The seriousness in the captain's tone made Van take a second look, first at him, and then at the woman. Lady Kirke glanced around the deck at the crew, cautious, but with a lack of fear that impressed him.
"Show her to her shipmates," the captain said. To the woman, he added, "I will have my bunk prepared for you, and take another. Return when you're ready to retire." He kissed the woman's hand. The gesture startled Van, who'd never seen the captain act with such chivalry-no, affection-in his demeanor. Come to think on it, the captain stood quite close beside her, in a restless, light-footed posture he normally reserved for battles at sea. Van swept the nearby crew with another look. This woman must be valuable, indeed-a rare insight to the captain of The Phoenix, who never gave details of his life even to Van. At sea, you didn't ask for such things, and you didn't give them.
As soon as the captain had gone, Van stepped to her side-much closer than necessary. "Who are you?"
"He has already told you who I am," she responded coldly-a no-nonsense tone much like the one the captain used, given only by a person unused to being disobeyed. She walked away toward the starboard railing. "I would like to see to the Luna's survivors."
Van stared at her silhouette. The sky had begun clearing ahead. Starlight outlined her figure, small, and smaller yet under yards of ridiculous, wasted fabric. How could a woman even move in all those trappings? He pulled a twist of rope from his pocket and chewed its end, angling his head and watching her stiff-backed posture. "Kirke," he said. She didn't respond. Van stalked to the railing, right up behind her.
She whirled around with her eyes blazing, and there was a knife against his belly before he even saw it in her hand. "He asked you to guard me, but you'd best not forget I can guard myself also. Is that clear?" she said.
"Sure, leddy," he answered, lifting his hands slowly into the air. He hadn't noticed the little thing during his weapons check, and it angered him that she got it past him. He started to focus on the hilt, just visible in her hand, with some sort of animal-head shape to it, but she pressed harder and brought his attention back to her eyes.
With slow, deliberate movements, he plucked the twist of rope from his mouth and gestured at her with it. "What's not clear is why you don't answer to your own name."
They stared at each other for a few seconds.
Allowing a hint of smirk into his features, he tilted his head toward the ship's bow. "They'll be that way."
She turned and strode aft. Smiling, he followed her. She reminded him of the kestrels in the fields at home, small and fierce. With weapons no less sharp for their lack of size, he thought ruefully, rubbing his belly through the nick she'd put in his shirt.
The captain had handed him quite the mystery. That would sweeten this voyage almost as much as the gold in his pockets.