Lee Scoresby's airship reached Trollesund a whole day later than he had expected; this was due to bad weather. But, all and all, the delay wasn't particularly substantial. And, very soon, he would be able to deliver Lucy to Lord John Faa safe and sound.
It was a busy port, people had their own business to mind, so if anyone thought it was odd to see a tired-looking girl with a mouse-dæmon in well-worn boys' clothes that were too big on her, a single loose lock of her brown hair sticking out from under a red-and-black hunter's hat with wool ear-flaps (Scoresby had lent it to her), trotting wearily but steadily alongside an old cowboy and his hare-dæmon nobody said anything to them about it.
In Lucy's opinion, the port in Trollesund was actually very similar to the port in Norroway; the same sort of ships-some Gyptian owned, others not; the same look and smell of parcels, packaging crates, and fish; even the people and buildings-to her exhausted eyes, at least-looked very much the same.
Reepicheep let out a little piping shriek of surprise, almost falling over in the process before he composed himself and regained his balance. Lucy lurched, taken aback. Lee Scoresby gripped her elbow to keep her up straight.
They had been startled by the presence of a large grey goose swooping down low. It was not an ordinary bird, but, rather, a dæmon, though his mistress seemed to be nowhere in sight. It was, in a way, to any dæmons who sensed him and knew what he was, a bit like seeing a floating head.
"I think it's a nice dæmon," Lucy said, when she caught her breath.
"I believe it's Serafina Pekkala Le Fay's Kaisa," Reepicheep added.
"I reckon it'll be a mighty good thing if your dæmon's guess is right, Miss Lucy," said Lee Scoresby, plucking thoughtfully at the white whiskers on the lower part of his chin. "That would mean that the goose will tell Lord John Faa we're here. I was hopin' the delay didn't cause him any real worry."
"Look!" Hester hopped onto a nearby stack of empty pine-wood crates and twitched her nose up at the sky; Kaisa seemed to be coming back towards them again.
The grey goose let out a honk and motioned with his beak for them to follow him.
"Come on, this way." Lucy scooped up Reepicheep, clutching him in the folds of her arms as she followed the fairy's goose-dæmon.
Lee Scoresby, quickly stopping at a booth, flicking a couple silver-coloured coins into the owner's money jar and hastily picking up a small box of tobacco cigars which he tucked away into a sack containing playing cards and a fair-sized engraved flask of whiskey for later, was right behind her. Hester kept her eyes on Reepicheep and Kaisa at all times so as to make sure her master did not lose the trail-or Lucy-in the crowd.
They traveled along a narrow alley with a canal to their right for a mile or so before Kaisa alighted on a wire fence at the start of a junk yard not unlike the one Iorek used to work in. At his right, was a sleek crow-dæmon with a long, regal beak, her beady eyes at once familiar to Lucy and Reep. Then, as they could have easily predicted from the second they saw the crow, there came the large, thick-set, form of the Gyptian King, John Faa.
Lucy placed Reepicheep down on the part broken cobblestone, part loose gravel ground near the fence. The mouse-dæmon bowed; his human managed a slightly wobbly curtsey and smiled in a strained manner before reaching out and squeezing John Faa's hand, clinging to his arm like he was a long-lost uncle.
Lord Faa placed his large palm down on Lucy's head. "It's good to see you again, Child." To Scoresby, he added, "Well done. Serafina Pekkala herself announced that you would be the one to bring her to me."
"Is," Lucy wondered aloud, letting go of the Gyptian king's arm and craning her neck slightly to see past him where a few other Gyptians were standing, "…is Farder Coram here, too?" Reepicheep stood on the tips of his toes and sniffed seemingly at nothing, looking in the same direction as his mistress.
"He sure is," said John Faa, smiling.
As it happened, Serafina was right, further instruction had come to Farder Coram and many of the other Gyptians in his clan (including Billy Costa and his mother) to join up with the king upon his arrival before he set out for Trollesund. This had involved a great deal of rushing to get everyone together in time, especially for Farder Coram who's weak legs hurt him even when he wasn't limping any more than usual, but it was all taken in stride. Besides, many Gyptians, however much more 'sophisticated' people might have scoffed at them and their life-styles, stuck together, and they honoured their elder ones, helping them when they needed it. That was a lesson that would have been well worth learning for some who needed to take their noses out of the air.
Lucy was surprised at how immediately she felt her lower lip beginning to tremble as Farder Coram stepped out to greet her. After Edmund had been taken away by the Ruling Powers, she had felt an almost unbearable vulnerability which she-secretly-thought might have even been compared to the effects of incercision. When Edmund was with her, much as she missed the grandfatherly protection from Farder Coram and-even more so-the brotherly protection from Peter, the ache was greatly dulled; she and Reep felt safe with Edmund and Ella, though in a different way. Now that they were gone, Lucy hadn't realized till then, not even confronted with the reassuring presences of her dear friends Lee Scoresby and John Faa, just how desperate and exposed she'd been feeling.
She bit her shaking lip to hold back the inevitable tears as she thrust her arms around the somewhat startled crippled Gyptian's waist. And, as if not a single minute had passed since the day Lady Sarah had placed infant Lucy into his arms and told him to watch over her, he whispered consolingly to her and pressed her tightly to him as long as she needed it, stroking her hair and telling her everything was going to be all right. His yellow tabby rubbed against Reepicheep consolingly, purring in a reassuring manner.
"There now," he said softly, letting her go.
And as soon as he had, Ma Costa's arms replaced his, drawing Lucy to her now. "Dear one." Her dæmon remained on her shoulder for the time being but still looked kindly down at Reepicheep, who was still on the ground beside Farder Coram's tabby.
Lucy felt a sudden tug just then, and Reepicheep, when she turned round to look at him, was scowling, his whiskers drooping downwards angrily. This lasted only a moment before the dæmon who had caused the hubbub showed herself; she was a white rat. The rat had familiar eyes, but with more of a 'settled' nature than when they'd last seen her. It was apparent that, though she hadn't changed shape all that often even when she could, she was now in her permanent form.
"Ratter, old friend!" cried Reepicheep, saluting her by tipping the little gold band around his ear in much the same way Lee Scoresby would have tipped his cowboy hat to an old friend or a lady passerby.
"What do you mean, Billy," said Lucy, fake indignantly, as Ratter's human approached, "pulling my dæmon's tail?"
The dark-haired, dark-eyed boy was taller than when Lucy had last seen him, but he was still easily recognizable as Billy Costa. If they had met randomly on the street one day, even just in passing, they would have known each other. It was his voice, however, that gave her a bit of a start; it was so deep, not at all like the shrill child-Gyptian's voice she remembered from so long ago. Now, that, that would have been harder to recognize without the familiar face it came out of.
"Ratter did it," Billy laughed, putting an arm around Lucy's shoulders and then pulling her to him for a brief, almost brotherly, side-embrace. "Not me." He winked at her, half-smiled, and said that it was good to see her again.
"You got so tall," Lucy said, in actuality thinking, not about his change in height, but still his surprising all-grown-up voice.
He laughed again and plucked at a loose thread on the patched-up sleeve of the shift under his indigo-coloured wool vest. "You got taller, too, Lu. And, I dunno, I s'pose it's more durable and all, but…you ain't always wearin' men's clothes now, are yer?"
Lucy laughed along with him now. "They're Edmund's," she told him when she had breath enough (it did feel so good to laugh genuinely, and even better, really, to have something to laugh about); as if that explained everything, although, to be fair, it sort of did.
He seemed to understand, nodding at her as Ratter climbed up his arm and rested on his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek absently. And whether he understood or not wouldn't have mattered at any rate because at that moment his mother stepped in between him and Lucy, and her arms slipped back around the tired girl in the tunic that was once worn by her alethiometrist boyfriend.
"Come, child," said Farder Coram over his shoulder, looking at Ma Costa but addressing Lucy. "We'll set out now."
Ma Costa steadily led her to the docks, letting her go on in front when they reached the small Gyptian ship they'd brought into the port. It was not John Faa's Dawn Treader. At first, Lucy had a hard time understanding why, but then it was explained to her, and the more she thought about it, the more perfect sense it made.
The Dawn Treader was a royal galleon, all done up with gold and fine purple cloth sails. Gyptian Royalty was not really respected by land people, who saw the Gyptian clans as little better than wandering groups of witches and peddlers who believed most strongly in anarchy (that wasn't, by the way, even remotely true). A simple Gyptian boat would not cause much stirring because their culture, loved or hated, required travel that helped keep port-towns like Trollesund and Norroway in business; no one would do anything to such a boat, not if they wanted to remain on the town's good side, they wouldn't. The Dawn Treader, glittering-however modestly-with old Gyptian wealth, didn't merit the same secure guarantee, especially not by unfeeling robbers with greedy eyes and quick hands for ripping, untying, and grabbing.
If there was to be a grand meeting of sorts, to talk over what was to be done in regards to rescuing Edmund, it would likely be held on the Dawn Treader all the same; this smaller boat (which turned out to belong to the Costas and had suffered no worse abuse than an attempted joy-ride by a certain Lyra Belacqua of Jordan College upon rare occasion in all the years they'd owned and maintained it) would simply take them out to where-ever the current fixed location of the royal galleon was.
As soon as Lucy's feet were both planted firmly on the edge of the deck, Kaisa let out another honk, whispered something to Reepicheep, and flew away. Lucy heard some of what Serafina's goose-dæmon said, through Reepicheep, but only as a distant buzzing in her ears, so she had to ask him.
"What was Kaisa saying to you, Reep? I couldn't understand. Also, why was he leaving? I hoped he'd stay with us."
"He said he can't, not now," Reepicheep explained quietly, "but he hopes to see us again soon-through Serafina Pekkala Le Fay, if not in person."
"Oh, is Serafina going to join us?" Lucy asked excitedly, nearly clasping her hands together from joyful expectation.
Reepicheep shrugged, his darkish fur waved lightly in the sea-breeze as the ship began to pull out with them and the Gyptians all on board (Lee Scoresby decided not to come, since he thought it might be wise not to leave his airship unattended for too long; he would wait in Trollesund for them to send word back if they needed him). "Maybe she will, Kaisa didn't promise anything either way."
"I see," Lucy sighed, a little deflated but not dramatically so. She put her hands on the ship's railing and took in a long, deep breath. She missed Edmund and wished he was there with her. Oh, Reep, we've simply got to get him and Ella back soon, we have to help them.
It would take a day's sailing to reach the Dawn Treader, Farder Coram and John Faa told her when she had had her fill of looking out at the sea for the moment and was beginning to yawn uncontrollably, so they would all have to sleep on the Costa's boat that night.
"Don't you worry about a thing, Lucy," said Farder Coram in the very nicest sort of voice a girl who has been through as much as Lucy Pevensie had could possibly long to hear. "You go on down with Ma Costa and she'll show you to bed."
She nodded, too tired to say what was really on her mind.
Farder Coram understood anyway. He leaned close to her ear as she walked over to Ma Costa and said, "Just think, soon we'll have Edmund back safe and sound." He said it without hesitation, as if he truly believed it, yet there was not even the slightest trace of 'patronizing' in his voice, either. If he believed it was possible to rescue Edmund unscathed-he, poor, lame, old Gyptian, brave as anything-then so also was her own faith shinning slightly brighter. It burned like a candle, then like starlight, when he added, "The Lion-Aslan-surely he'll help us."
"Bless you," whispered Lucy, at that.
"Let's get you some warm milk and then have you a-tucked up in bed where you ought to be;" Ma Costa said as Lucy ducked to get below deck, into the narrow hallway where the cabins were. "it's getting late."
The next thing Lucy knew, she was in a wooden cot with a patchwork quilt wrapped around her legs and waist and a violet knitted blanket over her shoulders, a hot tin mug of creamy milk in her hands, Reepicheep already looking glassy-eyed and half-asleep. She herself hardly felt awake. Through her dæmon, her vision occasionally blurred slightly, stained with sleepy-tears and darkened by heavy ever-lowering eyelids.
Ma Costa had another quilt in her hands and Lucy was about to murmur thank you very much but she didn't need it, that she was already plenty warm enough, when she realized it wasn't for her bed at all. The clever Gyptian woman was hanging it up as a sort of divider in the cabin. Lucy had been too weary, especially once she had the milk in her, to notice the other cot on the far starboard side of the cabin or to think about who would sleep there.
"Billy sleeps here," Ma Costa explained soothingly, as she stood back to admire her work. The quilt hung perfectly straight, like a wall made entirely of cloth. "You're tired at the moment, so you probably don't give a care now as to that now, but I'll bet, come morning, you'll want your privacy."
Lucy nodded. "Thank you, Ma Costa."
"Goodnight, dear one." And Ma Costa kissed her on the forehead before leaving her to sleep in peace.
She awoke early in the morning to watery reflections of pale silvery blues with traces of rainbows (the sort a person sees when they hold a crystal wineglass up to the sunlight) scattered haphazardly around them shinning off the opposite side of the cabin, coming in from the porthole closest to her cot. As the boat rocked and the colours moved on, they slid past the hanging divider quilt, paling before eventually disappearing into its shadow.
Reepicheep stretched and hopped out of the cot onto the floor. His human followed momentarily.
"You decent?" a deep voice on the other side of the quilt called over.
Early as it was, Billy Costa had already been up for a while.
"Yes," said Lucy. She was still in a Gyptian night-shirt Ma Costa had given her and it was loose, baggy, but it covered all of her, showing nothing, so she counted it as 'decent'; although she knew her sister-in-law, Susan, would have clucked her tongue despairingly at such an 'absurd' notion.
Ratter scurried under the quilt a few seconds before Billy Costa pulled it back and stepped into Lucy's side of the cabin.
"Here." He offered her a bundle he held in the crook of one of his arms.
"Thanks," Lucy said, taking it from him. "What is it?"
"Clothes," Billy told her. "Ma says it would probably be for the best if you was dressed like a Gyptian-like the rest of us. Mostly cuz we might have-ta dock some place later, and if you was dressed differently than us, it might raise suspicions."
Ma Costa was right, of course. But Lucy couldn't help being a little disappointed all the same. Wearing Edmund's clothes made her feel closer to him. The only problem was that, his tunics, doublets, jerkins, and tights weren't done in the Gyptian style. Of course Ed would have gladly taken Gyptian clothing if the necessity had arose, only it never had. What call did an alethiometrist have for the garments of Gyptians? What really did he even have in common with such people aside from the ties of friendship and-at times-a nomadic lifestyle?
Opening the bundle, Lucy found that, inside, there was two pairs of tights, a dark purple dress that ended at the calves, a forest-green tunic with azure and indigo thread-designs that looked as if it had once belonged to a boy just a little bigger than she herself was, high-rising wool stockings of a grayish-purple colour, a leather belt with a gold-and-amethyst buckle (a gift from Lord John Faa), a pair of soft cream-coloured slippers for walking under-deck, and two pairs of black sea boots.
She was wearing the wool stockings and the dress with one of Farder Coram's old jerkins over it (Billy told her it was a chill morning before he and Ratter left her side of the cabin in peace so she could get dressed) when she went up on deck for breakfast.
The moment he caught sight of her, Lord John Faa hastily more or less thrust a plate of food into her hands. "Being at sea gives a person a larger appetite for a reason. Best not to ignore it."
Her stomach was growling loudly; even if Lucy hadn't already been at sea before and learned that previously she wouldn't have found that statement hard to believe in the least.
The contents of the plate were cheering, also. A bread roll; some sort of large pastry they'd brought from a shop in Trollesund before leaving; two fistfuls worth of raisins; dried sausage links; a bit of ham; and a hard-boiled egg. For drinks she was offered a little bit of watered-down spiced wine in a prettily carved glass Serafina Pekkala, during one of her months living with her husband and the other Gyptians, had traded a wealthy nobleman three embroidered handkerchiefs and a small silver chain for.
While she enjoyed her meal, Lucy couldn't help wondering, not without the slightest touches of frustration and resentment she instantly rebuked herself for and repressed in light of all the Gyptians had done-and were still doing-for her, why they had to go all the way to the Dawn Treader to make their plans. Surely it would be quicker to just start on an expedition to Svalbard and snatch Edmund and Ella out of the clutches of the Ruling Powers and the armoured bears.
Or maybe it would be madness.
Yes, that was it, that was the reason. A team of Gyptians, some of them quite old at that, couldn't just go charging up north on a whim. That didn't mean they couldn't or wouldn't go north, it just meant waiting. After all, they'd made it up to Bolvangar to rescue all those children before, hadn't they? Surely, with the proper planning and Aslan's help, they'd manage this, too. What Farder Coram had expressed the night before wasn't false hope in the least.
Feeling better when she had considered the situation through and through, Lucy licked the residue of pastry icing off of her fingers and sighed to herself. Reepicheep twitched his whiskers and sighed along with her.
Twilight had begun to set in when Lucy, Billy, and Farder Coram, looking out toward the horizon, leaning with their elbows pressed against the ship's railing, saw a flash of a bird's wing.
"A seagull," Lucy said under her breath, mostly to herself. Then she thought: A seagull? This far from land?
Ah, it wasn't a real seagull, then. It was somebody's dæmon.
"It is a he-dæmon," Reepicheep whispered to his mistress, standing up on the railing, sensing the gull, "but his human isn't female."
Lucy's lips curled up into a smile. "Caspian!"
Sure enough, in the clearing sea-fog, standing on the deck of John Faa's Dawn Treader, holding a lantern to welcome the Gyptian King and his party back to the galleon, was Caspian.
AN: That's all for now. Please review.