"If anyone asks," Lord Asriel said, taking a big gulp of hot coffee laced with brandy from a silver thermos, "we're traders; here to bargain for fur and smoke leaf." He screwed the silver cap back onto the thermos; and his dæmon's throat let out a low grunt of a sound that seemed to mean she was in complete agreement with her master.

"Who would ask?" Edmund wondered aloud, pulling his arms through the sleeves of a fur-lined greatcoat Thorold had-with Lord Asriel's permission, of course-lent him the use of.

Ella, who was perched on a hat rack that was either made out of brass or else gold mixed with some other metal that polluted its purity, barely making it recognizable as gold, flapped her wings as if to fly upwards but did not take off just yet.

Lord Asriel looked at Edmund with a cold, stony glare that Peter thought was a pointless, unwarranted prejudice mixed with irritation. "You don't think we're the only living persons in the whole of the North, do you?"

"I think," said Peter, "Ed means that we'd be shot at before anyone would ask us questions to begin with."

"Then he should have dash well said so." Lord Asriel frowned and, with a half-grunt, slung his rifle's long black leather strap over his shoulder. "You never know, Pevensie, someone might ask us what we're doing. Not an armoured bear or a guard working for the Ruling Powers, of course, but a true-bred northerner, unsure if we mean them any harm, might."

"I'm not the one who asked," Peter remarked. He didn't appreciate Lord Asriel's way of slighting Edmund. "Why didn't you just tell him that instead of replying so sardonically?"

"I have more important things to do, Pevensie, than concern myself with the possibility of hurting the feelings of some know-it-all alethiometrist."

If Peter had had a dæmon, it probably would have been grunting, growling, or making some similar noise of displeasure. As he had no dæmon, however, he could do no more than glare at Stelmaria himself, forgetting for a passing moment how afraid of her he still was at times.

They stared at each other for a second, neither backing down until Peter finally broke eye-contact, shook his head, and started putting on his boots.

Thorold and his pincher dæmon, burdened with carrying most of the luggage, however much Edmund and Peter tried to help, did their best to ease the tension. There wasn't much actual easing, unfortunately; instead, everyone left the cabin in sullen silence, going forward with nothing except for the route Lord Asriel and Peter had charted out earlier to guide them.

They didn't have a very good plan, to be exact. Most of their hopes were pinned upon the fact that if they plowed their way carefully through the north and went southeast, perhaps, they would reach some sort of out-post town and from there be able to send messages either to the Gyptians or else to the Master of Jordan College. There was a great chance that any such messages would have to be in a code of some sort, seeing as any signs of their sending word anywhere could easily reach the ears of the Ruling Powers, but they figured they'd cross that bridge once they reached it; they had to get out of northern territory first. Also, they prayed there wouldn't be another blizzard.

Peter had gotten the safety on his pistol yet again, only he refused to tell Lord Asriel, not wanting to be hit in the gut with the weapon, still remembering how sore he was from the last time. Once more, he wished for Rhindon, wondering what had become of that marvelous sword.

When he wasn't thinking about Rhindon, he was thinking about Susan or Lucy-or both. He worried about Lucy, and hoped that Edmund's brave act of hiding her from the Ruling Powers truly had protected her; and he was lonely for Susan's company and wondered whether or not she had made it through to this world and where she was and what she was doing right then at that very moment.

Edmund thought of his sister and half-sister quite a bit; but mostly his wandering mind seemed stuck on two main issues: one, he was sort of hungry and wasn't Lord Asriel going to suggest they stop for a meal break sometime soon before they all died of starvation in this horrid snow-covered wilderness; and, two, was Lucy all right? Did she know he was out of prison? Did she even know which prison he'd been in to begin with? Did she know about the papers he'd refused to sign? Was she proud of him if she did? Did she miss him as much as he missed her?

Suddenly Stelmaria let out a rumbling half-growl, half-roar, her fur quite rigid, and Lord Asriel pointed his rifle at some sort of big, shaggy gray animal coming towards them over a snowy hill to their left.

"I think it's a wolf," said Trumpkin. He was nervous, but his voice didn't waver enough for any of his traveling companions to discern that.

Ella flew as far from Edmund as she could without causing separation pains and tried to get a better view of the creature.

"Don't shoot," she squawked, sensing something Stelmaria hadn't gotten the chance to yet. "It's a dæmon!"

A dæmon without its person! It might as well have been a floating head! Edmund went very white in the face, and Lord Asriel lowered his rifle but only an inch; Stelmaria swatted impatiently at small pile of snow close to her right front paw.

"Pevensie, it's coming near you," said Lord Asriel out of the corner of his mouth. "Make sure you have your pistol pointed at its heart."

"You don't expect me to shoot it," gasped Peter, horrified.

Lord Asriel looked at him like he was an idiot. "Not if it's on our side, no. Likely this is a star's dæmon or a fairy's; it can't belong to a human or it wouldn't be here on its own. Until we know if it means us ill-will, you will keep that pistol well pointed."

Glad that the safety was on, Peter raised the pistol, hoping Asriel wouldn't notice. His hopes were not met; Lord Asriel noticed at once, snatched the pistol out his hands, took the safety off, and thrust it back at him with a sharp reprimand.

Ella appeared to be going mad, shaking all over, going from flying in a circle hovering over the approaching dæmon to fluttering back anxiously to Edmund, who wasn't doing so well himself. He was shaking, too; not from cold, but from fear.

Peter wanted to ask Edmund why he was so frightened, because it seemed to be a bit much to be that shaken over an old taboo he had broken before when things went wrong; but he was too afraid that if he wasn't concentrating he would shoot the poor wolf-dæmon by accident, and he couldn't rid himself of the overwhelming feeling that he mustn't harm this creature no matter what.

The creature appeared before them. Ella fluttered to the ground, terrified. She sprawled out in a very unbird-like manner and let out a moan.

"Ed?" Peter couldn't help it now; he looked to his brother-in-law out of the corner of his eye.

Edmund's face was as translucent as a fine, well-bleached linen cloth now. He closed his eyes and promptly fainted, collapsing onto the snow-covered ground.

Trumpkin was at his side, lightly slapping at his cheeks, trying to make him come-to.

The wolf-dæmon looked at Peter, seemed almost to tremble with joy at the sight of him, then noticed Ella unconscious and rushed towards her, nudging her soft, white feathers with one of its paws.

"Speak, dæmon," said Lord Asriel, pointing his rifle at the wolf. "If you don't want to go out like a light and burst into Dust."

"Asriel, don't!" his own dæmon warmed him, standing right in front of her master until he lowered his rifle, seeming to realize something through Stelmaria.

Peter came over to the wolf cautiously, feeling as if he knew him somehow. It wasn't an it, he felt instinctively, it was most definitely a he.

The wolf looked at him. "Hello, Peter."

"How do you know my na-" Peter began. Then he caught a glimpse of the creature's eyes, stared into them with wonder and fascinated horror, understanding now why Edmund had fainted from the shock. "Maugrim!"

"Lovely to see you, too," he commented in a sarcastic tone.

Yes, there was no mistaking it, this was Susan Pevensie's Maugrim for sure.

But what had happened to Susan? Why wasn't she with Maugrim?

Well, when she'd fallen into the fountain, she found herself plummeting far downwards until she could see nothing at all, standing still, underwater, in a pitch-black place. It was a little cold, but not freezing. And then there was a teeny glimmer of light roughly the size of a firefly, though noticeably rounder and less bug-like.

Maugrim, who was at her side, opened his mouth to bark but no sound came out. He felt as if water ought to rush into his open mouth, choking him, but he got no such sensation. Instead, there was the feeling of being pushed upwards through a sort of invisible curtain that felt smooth like rose-water mixed with silken gauze. And the next thing he was aware of was his human's gasp as they both stood, tried but not particularly out of breath, on the banks of a small tide-pool surrounded by soft downy turf.

Obviously, they'd just come up from that pool mere seconds ago, but they weren't dripping wet; only Susan's feet-and Maugrim's paws-were even slightly dampened.

"Peter?" Susan called out automatically, wondering if he was there, too.

"Hello, Susan," said a voice that was clearly not Peter's.

The voice was deep, having a husky sort of tone to it, but was most certainly female.

Turning her head round to look for the speaker, Susan first saw that the pool she'd come up out of was drying up and then filling with grass until it matched the rest of the soft, rich green landscape. Then she caught sight of a tallish woman with dark hair dressed in a long garment of light purple and pale green.

"Hello," she responded politely, in spite of the fact that she didn't recognize the lady yet.

"You'll probably remember me from the battle at Bolvangar," the lady prompted. "I helped lead a number of fairies and stars to aid your side."

"Serafina Pekkala Le Fay?" They'd never had much contact between them but knew enough about each other to feel as though that was not actually the case.

"Yes," she replied.

Susan curtseyed. "Your Majesty."

"There is no time for all that now," sighed Serafina Pekkala heavily. "We must begin to make some plans." She touched the side of her arm, urging Susan to follow her through a small thicket of trees to where a single door made of glossy cherry-wood and engraved with all sorts of funny-yet elegant-carvings in and around its centre stood, seemingly in mid-air, supported by nothing.

"It's no good." Susan's eyes flickered from the door, to Maugrim, then back to Queen Serafina, an expression of deep confusion clouding them.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," said Susan practically, "we don't seem to be anywhere much-and I don't fancy wasting time with that queer door (is it a fairy joke of some kind?) since there's nothing behind it."

"How do you know there isn't anything behind it?" the fairy queen asked patiently.

Maugrim answered for his mistress; he would have felt more comfortable talking to her dæmon, but as he wasn't present, the wolf sucked it up and made do. "If I lean to the left, I can see directly behind it, and there's only more trees."

Serafina seemed to be laughing to herself for a moment before she reached up and twisted the doorknob.

Susan and Maugrim's jaws dropped simultaneously as the door slowly creaked open, revealing a long blue-and-white marble hall lit with an evening-sun sort of lighting.

There was a great circular table, and seated round it were the most spectacular-looking courtiers that anyone could have possibly imagined. Maugrim and Susan knew at once that these had to be fairies. Only about a quarter of them had their dæmons with them; the dæmons of those sitting alone must have all been out handling important matters elsewhere. They were all dressed in beautiful clothing, very like Serafina's only slightly different in cuts and the level of grandeur as if their garments were part of the way they showed their stations in the fairy court.

"Come." Serafina took Susan's hand and helped her step up through the door and into the hall, Maugrim following with a great running-jump just behind.

Susan waited, as she was bade to sit in an empty chair to the right of the one Serafina Pekkala was currently easing down into, lightly rubbing her fingers along the sides of the cloud-pine branch propped against it, to be introduced to everyone. But-as far as she was concerned-there seemed to be no introduction necessary; all the fairies apparently knew who she was already.

Serafina was gracious-and diplomatic-enough to tell Susan the names of all the different courtiers, of course; however, Susan was so overwhelmed that she found afterwards she could only remember a handful of these names and even less of their various titles and surnames. Most of them ended in 'Le Fay', just like Serafina's name; that much, at least, she could remember without difficultly.

"We will now call the counsel to order," Serafina Pekkala announced.

Susan felt herself grimace, without even being sure why, and she distracted herself, both from her own unease and from that of Maugrim she could sense with extreme intensity, by admiring the chairs themselves. Each chair was made out of the purest silver she had ever seen-or touched-in her life; the backs were carved into patterns like lace while the arms were at least four times the width of a thick-set English gentleman's arm and the legs were sculpted to look like tree roots of a sort, coming down in a thick, intertwining design.

She snapped back to attention when a lovely but terribly cross-sounding voice said, "What good is the daughter of Marisa Coutler to us? How do we even know we can trust her?"

"She's hardly the daughter of Marisa Coulter any longer," Serafina replied mildly, glancing over at Susan with a kind, reassuring facial expression. "That was her past, not her present. Those are sins for which we need not-and will not-blame her. Indeed, she's been a Pevensie for a good while now, you all well know that."

Susan blushed. Maugrim fought the urge to lower his head and put his paw over his nose by shooting something of a half-guilty, half-offended look at the horned-owl dæmon of the fairy lord who had spoken against his mistress. What did he know of all they'd been through?

"And, if she will help us," Queen Serafina went on, undaunted, "we can use her skill with archery."

"How do you know I'm an archer?" Susan asked quietly.

"Well, for one thing," answered a fairy seated near her who looked very much like Serafina only her hair was fair-golden-instead of black, "we saw you fighting at Bolvangar, you know. For another, we are well aware of how you fought off the Telmarine Gyptians who meant to kidnap you as revenge for your mother stealing so many of their children for her wicked experiments."

Susan bit her lower lip.

On the one hand, it was a pleasant memory, for that was how she'd met Peter. On the other hand, it was a horrific memory she wished she could blot out, for she had been-she keenly and shamefully felt-quite a different and terrible, silly and conceited, prim nightmare of a girl back in those days. How Peter could have loved her back then, despite her many flaws that made her shudder to think back on, was still something of a marvel to her, really.

"Susan," Serafina said, "we know your story from the day you first learned-or rather, realized-the truth about your mother's affair with Lord Asriel, right through your journey into young womanhood, all the way to Jordan College where you found Peter again and married him. We even know-now-some of what has been going on in that other world; that you had a child, a boy named Christian, and even that you came to be here by falling into a fountain at Lord Digory's college. But is there something we've forgotten, anything that might have been left out?"

"I-" she began nervously. "I'm not sure, to tell you the truth. I can't think of anything. Except that-but you probably know this, too-Lord Asriel" here Susan gritted her teeth, still hating the sound of his name, "was working with us to try and find a way back into this world."

"Hmm," said the first fairy, the one who disapproved of her. "Interesting."

"Susan, do you know why your brother is sought out by the Ruling Powers?" Serafina asked her.

"No," she replied, "unless, of course, it's because they want him to take Mother's place; but I know he would never agree to that…never…"

"That may well be partially it," the fairy queen admited. "But, largely, they are afraid of him."

"Afraid?" Susan echoed, clearly quite astonished to hear that. "Of Ed?" She supposed that was why he was in danger, but she didn't fully understand-she couldn't wrap her mind around it.

"Your brother has become an alethiometrist."

"Really?"

"Yes, and if they knew-which I don't think they do, not yet, and not in full-that his assistant was one of the daughters of Lord Asriel...and that Lucy Pevensie has an alethiometer of her own, one she knows how to read by instinct…they wouldn't react mildly, to say the least."

"What a picnic," muttered Susan under her breath.

"We know," agreed Queen Serafina; "that's why we want you to agree to join our legion of archers-in case of another battle. It shan't be the final one, not by a long shot, but it will be crucial that we win-or as a last resort, do not lose."

"What about Peter? And Ed? And everybody else? How are they going to know where I am?"

"That is the next order of business," Serafina told her. "If you are willing to join us, then we are willing to let you in on a secret which will enable you to help your husband and your brother."

"Yes, of course." Susan couldn't agree quickly enough. "What do I have to do?" Maugrim's ears pricked up.

"We fairies have mastered the ability to make a special potion. When drunk, this potion has the ability to temporarily separate a human from his or her dæmon without cutting them apart."

"That's impossible!" snort-retorted Maugrim.

"It's not," said Serafina. "You don't see fairies dying when their dæmons wander off, do you?"

"Is that why?" Susan asked, interested in the possible practicality of this in spite of herself. She could hardly help it, having grown up with a mother obsessed with cutting away dæmons. Marisa would have paid through the nose to learn of this. "Is it because you drink that stuff that you can separate from yours?"

Serafina Pekkala Le Fay shook her head. "No, dear, it isn't. I won't mislead you. We can do it naturally, because we're fairies. We are different, we're not immortal, but we aren't quite as mortal as humans are. We have different abilities than you. And don't think that anytime you ever fancy some time away from your dæmon you can simply drink this potion and go about as if you were a fairy and not a human maiden."

"How do you mean?"

"To accomplish what you must, you'll have to drink it whenever we say, even if you don't feel like it. For as it starts to wear off, there's a nasty chance of you growing weaker and then being cut away altogether from your Maugrim. Let me say it again: you are not a fairy, nor a star. And after a while, a human grows immune to the ingredients in this potion. Which is why Maugrim must return to you before that happens; we will see to that, don't worry. Oh and of course you cannot tell anyone about this, if the Ruling Powers knew…"

"She knows what is a secret," Maugrim said, a bit too gruffly, perhaps fearful of being separated from Susan, even in a safe manner.

"Edmund is out of prison. Our spies have placed him, Peter, Lord Asriel, and a former dwarf manservant on a remote plain in the far north."

"Spies?" Susan's brow crinkled slightly.

"Stars, many of which are related to us," Serafina clarified.

"Oh, I see. Sorry. Do go on."

"They will need better guidance. Lord Asriel's route will bring them dangerously out of the way and possibly into unfamiliar territory where the locals, fearful and bribed by the armoured bears and the Ruling Powers alike, would not hesitate to capture them. Your Maugrim can and go and lead them to the ice cliffs in the northeast where somebody will be waiting to help them. We need your consent for this to be done, of course."

"I don't see how I could say no," sighed Susan; she was shaken up by the notion of it all, her initial excitement waned a great deal, but she had to do this-for Peter and Edmund. Lord Asriel…well, she almost didn't care if he was eaten by an armoured bear, but she supposed it would be good form to help him, too-if she must.

A golden goblet encrusted with grass-green emeralds, sapphires so dark they nearly looked like onyxes, and ruby chips round the rim was handed to Susan. She took a deep breath, asked Maugrim if he was ready, and swallowed it. The brew didn't taste too bad; sort of like strong apple cider with an intense aftertaste that made her tongue tingle long after she had swallowed.

Two hours after what Edmund referred to as 'briefly blacking out' and the others-including Maugrim-all insisted was 'fainting', he returned to consciousness.

It was dark by then as the day often ends much earlier in the far north-or else, at certain times, does not end at all, and blinding sunlight shines against the white snow even at midnight-and he saw that there was a campfire built. He himself had been placed far enough from it that he couldn't easily roll over and land on the flames, putting them out and injuring himself, but close enough so that the warmth could keep him quite snug under the blanket Trumpkin had put over him as if no time at all had passed since the old days when he used to be paid to care for Edmund Coulter the second.

At first he still felt unwell and could not will himself to look at the should-be severed figure of Maugrim for too long at one glance. Then, after he'd gotten his bearings and had had some water, he told Ella to go and speak to Maugrim to find out what was happening.

Ella trembled and flapped her wings twice in emphatic dismay. "You want me to…just go over there and talk…to a dæmon with a missing human?" She said it the same way people in worlds without dæmons would say, "Talk to a floating head missing its body".

"Don't be such a coward," hissed Edmund, not unlike the way his half-sister Lyra addressed her Pantalaimon when he was reluctant to do as she wanted. "You've talked to Peter before; and he never had a dæmon to begin with."

Ella was still petrified. "That's different. He's still whole…could you stand knowing that...that your sister's dæmon was cut away? It's frightful. I can't just go over there, I can't!"

"I'll tell you plain and simple what I couldn't stand," Edmund retorted, his voice quivering too much to be harsh, exactly, but serious enough so that it was obviously not a tone to be taken lightly all the same. "I couldn't stand not knowing. Sitting here like this, not knowing why Maugrim's here and Susan isn't. It'll be less awkward for you to ask him than me; since you're both dæmons. It's nothing to do with courage or any of that rot"

"So your bravely refusing to come over there yourself," Ella snapped.

Edmund scowled at her.

"I'm sorry," his dæmon amended. "I didn't mean that…really…it's just…"

"I know," he said softly. "Look, just fly over there real quick and find out if Maugrim's…why he's not…well, you know. Anyway, then you can come right back over here. It's the same as how you sometimes check to see if the cost is clear before I walk through a doorway."

It wasn't the same, not completely, yet the notion that it was comforted Ella and gave her enough pluck to go through with it.

While he waited for his dæmon to find out what they needed to know and fly back over to his side of the campfire (and also to distract from the discomfort he could sense through the snowy owl), Edmund watched Maugrim to see what he was doing. Safely at this distance, he felt unattached enough to take it in now.

The wolf-dæmon seemed less sure of himself than usual, not resting on his paws cockily, ready to snap his teeth at anything that passed by and irked him. He might still have sarcastic remarks a-plenty in the back of his head, but Edmund wondered if they would be so quick to reach his mouth as they were when he was with his mistress. For one thing, Maugrim seemed unable to fully adjust to being without a human; he sat very close to Peter, even leaning against his side as if he were his dæmon every once in a while.

Ella flew back and whispered the secret of Maugrim and Susan's temporary separation in her human's ear.

Edmund's eyes widened and he nodded; this explained a lot.

His eyes flickered over to Lord Asriel, who was sitting apathetically with his back to them all, Stelmaria at his side as usual. Did he know in full about how Maugrim had come to them? Edmund wasn't sure he trusted him not to use that knowledge-or at least try to use that knowledge-for his own means.

"Come on," said Edmund. "I've been a standoffish prig long enough. If you're satisfied there's nothing to fear, Ella, so am I. Do let's go sit over there next to Peter and Maugrim."

AN: Please review!