AN: Is it just me or did I take a while with this update? If so, I'm sorry. I've been having a rough few days, a lot of crud I'm not going to get into. Oh, and just a warning, there's one not so nice word used in passing in this chapter (aka: Bastard); it's not intended as a swear, just a descriptive term; I couldn't think of another word that would fit as well...so...well that's it...this is rated T for a reason. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it. Tis as simple as that.
"Farder Coram?"
"Yes, child?" Farder Coram turned around to see Lucy standing behind him.
"Do you know anything about a Star Consul?" she asked, her brow crinkled.
"A Star Consul?" the old crippled Gyptian repeated, to be sure he heard her aright. Farder Coram's tabby-dæmon let out a low mew and blinked at Reepicheep as if waking from a semi-deep slumber.
"Yes," Lucy said, nodding. "Lyra's alethiometer wouldn't give her an answer, it just kept going round like a compass's needle when there's a magnet near it." (This may have simply been due to the fact that Lyra's hangover made it difficult for her to hold the question level in her mind, which made it impossible for her to read it by instinct, causing the needle to spin. Edmund, being an alethiometrist, might have been able to read it-or at least get some vague meaning out of it-had he been there; but as he wasn't, it was left up to Lucy.) "So I tried to read mine," (by 'mine' she meant the silver 'pocket watch' Professor Krike had given her, not the gold-and-silver alethiometer she was keeping safe for Edmund, as it hadn't even occurred to her, actually, for whatever reason, to try and read that one), "and it keeps saying something about stars and a consul. And the fourth time it went round it showed me this large building, sort of like a library or a college but smaller and rather similar to an old English manor."
Farder Coram looked very thoughtful. "I think I might know where that is."
"Really?" Lucy's face lit up.
"Serafina and I went to see a Star Consul once," he told her, "a fellow by the name of Coriakin. We went because Serafina wanted to send word to her niece and was unable to locate her without assistance at the time; and she figured Coriakin would be able to help her."
"Was he?" Reepicheep wondered aloud.
"Oh, yes," replied the tabby-dæmon, stretching out her soft yellow-orange paws in front of herself on the hard wooden deck and arching her back. "We were only there once, though."
"And you remember the way?" Lucy double-checked.
Farder Coram nodded. "I believe I just might, Lucy; it's in Narrowhaven, I'm a thinking."
"Narrowhaven? Where is that?"
"Between Norroway and Trollesund, kind of…it's another port town very similar to the both of them, anyway."
"Oh."
There was the fluttering of wings, and Lucy turned to see Caspian and his seagull-dæmon approaching them from the other side of the deck. "Oh, Narrowhaven! It was a very bad place once."
"Was it?" asked Lucy, curious rather than frightened as Caspian's use of the word 'was' sounded like something in the past, not something current to worry over.
"Farder Coram can tell you better than I," Caspian responded, with a shudder-his dæmon ruffling his coarse feathers. "He'll remember, I'm sure."
Lucy turned and looked at Farder Coram again.
"A bloody horrid business that," the old Gyptian man sighed. "There was a slave trade there once, Lucy, and many of the captives-though not all of them-were of the Gyptian ethnicity and culture, especially when they were starting out."
"Why?" Lucy pouted and folded her arms across her chest; Reepicheep made a hissing noise of displeasure. It seemed to her most unfair that it was always the Gyptians that got struck at first-and the hardest-all the time. With those brutes from Bolvangar, and, evidently before, with that dreadful slave-trade in Narrowhaven.
"The officials didn't race much fuss over Gyptians being sold off, so that's primarily who they captured and sold first, to gain a more firm foot-hold in the business," Caspian explained.
"Well, they didn't have any right to," Lucy stated, indignant. She was more determined than ever to fight for fair rights for Gyptians once the trouble with the Ruling Powers got sorted.
"Of course not." Farder Coram's dæmon bared her teeth.
"Wasn't it Lucy's father, Lord Asriel, that fought in one of the raids to free the slaves at Narrowhaven?" Caspian asked Farder Coram, trying to remember for himself but not being certain.
Farder Coram nodded. "It sure was; Lord Asriel did do a lot of good in regards to that. Used a whip on some of the slave-traders and everything."
"But Narrowhaven is safe now, Lucy," Caspian assured her, putting a hand on her upper right arm. "They have not had problems of that kind for many years."
"Well that's a relief," said the voice of someone coming up behind them.
Turning, Lucy saw that it was Billy Costa; he looked tired, and Ratter rested rather limply on her master's shoulder, less alert than usual, but other than that, if he'd been hung-over after drinking so much with Lyra the previous night, there weren't many signs of it.
Lyra herself arrived a bit later, carrying Pantalaimon in her arms. She seemed more relaxed now-pensive, even. When Farder Coram brought up the Star Consul Lucy had mentioned, she grinned and said she would like to come along-if they really were going to meet this Coriakin person.
"We should consult John Faa before making any definite plans," Farder Coram said in a steadying manner, "but I don't see-for the most part-why we shouldn't go."
"That's right," said Lyra, clutching Pantalaimon to her breasts. "If the alethiometer tells one of us something, we know it's true."
"A Star Consul," echoed Lucy dreamily; "I wonder what he-and his place-will be like."
"I dunno," Billy said with a shrug of his shoulders.
"I can't quite even imagine it," Ratter added, lifting up her head, her rat-eyes finally shinning a little.
And so Farder Coram approached Lord John Faa and told him about the Star Consul and his plans to take Lyra and Lucy there, maybe even Billy Costa, if the boy expressed a desire to come along and Ma Costa agreed to it.
John Faa looked up from the sea-chart he'd been studying, his dark eyes glinting, not with wickedness (he never was wicked) nor even irritation, but mere amusement. A Star Consul was not what he had expected to come up through consulting the alethiometer, but he'd learned long before then not to be surprised by the unexpected, only charmed or rightly horrified, depending on the circumstances. His crow dæmon whistled sharply.
"And you've been there before?" asked the Gyptian king.
"Oh, yes; once."
"Well, Farder Coram, I'm well aware that the girls would be in no safer hands than yours; and of course-if Ma Costa has no objections-I would have no problem with Billy leaving, provided he a minds you and behaves himself like a proper Gyptian ought."
Farder Coram's tabby-dæmon nodded graciously; Farder Coram himself gave a short bow of submission to the king-the gesture was formal enough to be respectful but there was a sense of familiarity and friendship underlining it which had always been there between the two Gyptian gentleman.
"Now," John Faa went on, "what we need is really to arrange which ship will take you to the dock at Narrowhaven. The Dawn Treader can't be a goin' there and I don't think it's fair to always put the Costa's boat through as much as we do without thinking of it. Heaven knows, even with all the help they've always been, we still pick on them about Lyra's attempts to hijack their water craft."
Farder Coram cracked a smile. "Oh, only a small jest or two. They know we don't mean no real damage or insult."
"Aye," laughed John Faa, "and one does have to be careful-much more than they sometimes are-when there's so many dangerous little girls hanging 'round the banks near Jordan."
Their two dæmons made the funny animal-like sounds that stood for their kind of laughter, having mirth along with their humans until they were serious again and had to sober up.
"Did Caspian bring any of his boats to the rigging? Any we can easily access that aren't too showy? I know that Miraz dying left him wealthy." Farder Coram thoughtfully stroked his dæmon's soft, sunset-coloured ears while he spoke.
"I'm fairly sure he did," replied John Faa. "And if he hadn't, one of his two present manservants might've. Actually, if I were you, I'd a ask him if he wouldn't mind allowing them to accompany you; Drinian's very good at ship navigation and reading maps and Rhince is learning fairly quickly. What's more, they're both reasonably skilled archers-Rhince more so-learned from a cousin, I was told-but Drinian doesn't often miss his mark either."
"Not a bad idea, Lord Faa," said Farder Coram; "but would it be alright, do you suppose, if I was to decline to bring Rhince along and took Emeth in his place? Emeth's been loyal as anyone since the day we spared his life and cared for his wounds; and he's a fair marksman, too. Rhince wouldn't do much good, not if we already had Caspian, too-what with his skill when it comes to crossbows and the like. Should any troubles arise, Rhince would just be an extra person, no offence to him or to your suggestion."
Master Emeth and his dæmon, a lynx answering to the name Emma, had worked for the Lord Rabadash, who Susan Pevensie (back when she was still a Coulter) had once been engaged to marry until, during an attempt to kidnap Susan and take her back to the whiny ass of a nobleman, two Gyptians shot him down. The arrow had missed his heart, and they were willing to let him live, but only if he promised to serve them. And Emeth had done so faithfully and without let up since that day-never faltering in his devotion and gratefulness to them so even much as once.
"I hadn't thought of that, Farder Coram. I'm not in the least way of being offended, rest assured. And I don't think Rhince will be, either; he'll see the sense in your line of thinking, just as I do."
"Good." Farder Coram blinked at him, mildly relieved. "So may we take Emeth with us?"
"I won't impede it," was John Faa's response. "If he's a-willing, as he's always been, let him go with you to the Star Consul."
"Very well, but I was a-wondering what I should ask the consul…if there was anything specific we wanted to know? Aside from out next move?" He wished Serafina Pekkala Le Fay was there with them and was coming along; she would have known the right things to ask far better than an old Gyptian like him-even better than Lord Faa would, probably.
John Faa stroked his thick, dark beard. "I've no doubts that Lucy will inquire after Edmund, so you needn't worry about the alethiometrist, leave that to her. You might, if it seems feasible at the time, ask about Bolvangar's operations. I've heard of children going missing again; terrible rumours. If Bolvangar is attempting a comeback and this Coriakin knows anything that would help us, it might not be amiss-just asking and listening."
"If it is possible," Farder Coram agreed, "I will ask."
Early the next morning, when the ship they were to take into Narrowhaven was properly loaded with efficient food and water, Lucy waved goodbye to John Faa and kissed Ma Costa on the cheek in farewell. Lyra, obviously more grieved in parting than she let on, even allowed herself to be embraced tightly-to the point of nearly being smushed in some cases-by several of the Gyptians.
"Don't fret none," Farder Coram warned the girls gently when they seemed to be getting a tad too sentimental. "You don't know how soon we'll be back-it may be very soon."
"Emeth," Rhince said, popping up from below deck, his meerkat-dæmon trotting along at his right side, and roughly thrusting something into the dark-faced servant's hand. "Sorry," he amended breathlessly, "but I wanted to make sure this made it onto the ship bound for Narrowhaven. It's a map of Narrowhaven and its principle buildings, platforms, and docks. Oh, and tell the others to be on guard. I heard Lord Faa talking about more missing children the other day-if there's any chance that it isn't Bolvangar making a comeback after all, that the slave trade is beginning again-if they're stupid enough to start up in the same place they were destroyed before…"
"Understood, my lord." Emeth nodded; his dæmon blinked.
"Tell Drinian to be careful, as well," Rhince reminded him. "Not all land-people are as good-natured as the two girls we've got on-board, as I'm sure you'll remember." Then, less dourly, "Heck, if it weren't for Lyra's fair colouring and fiery temper one could almost take her for a Gyptian."
Rhince, as a child, was actually raised on land for a good chunk of his early life. His mother had-although rumoured to have been a half-Gyptian bastard herself, which no one could prove or disprove-been a land lady of the upper middle class society; neither rich like Lord Asriel, nor poor like the gutter children Mrs. Coulter lured away when she was in want for a suitable Gyptian brat. Because of this, Rhince had endured more name-calling even than most full-bloodied Gyptians, as they are often out at sea or busy with adventures, generally have to put up with. He knew cruel people-and he was sure Emeth knew, and remembered, them as well.
In fact, one of the reasons Rhince was anxious was because the place he had lived with his mother was only a few miles west of Narrowhaven. Secretly, he was glad it was Emeth going and not him, and-so great was his relief-he felt he could very nearly have thrown himself down at Farder Coram's feet with gratitude if he were a less dignified man.
"Come, Lucy." Caspian helped Lucy step into the little row-boat that would take them to his ship bound for Narrowhaven. (Lyra had already jumped in without assistance of any sort.)
"Billy, you behave or you be havin' me to answer to when you return," Ma Costa called after the row-boat.
"Yes, Ma!" he called back respectfully.
"And don't forget to wash behind your ears, Billy! Don't you dare show up to meet that Star Consul with a dirty face-it would shake our good name."
"Ma!" Billy exclaimed, a little embarrassed because Lyra was watching his squirming facial expression and making rather nasty faces back to poke fun at him.
Farder Coram choked back a laugh.
"Farder Coram," said Lyra, a little later, noticing something before she saw the shape of Caspian's modest ship coming into view.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"What's that sort of mist we're comin' near?"
"Only fog," he replied. "Don't worry. We're nearly at the ship now."
"Drinian," said Emeth, remembering Rhince's advice now. "I'm supposed to give you this map-" He paused. It was Drinian Rhince had meant it for, wasn't it? Or had he meant to give it to Caspian or even Farder Coram? At least he could rule out Billy Costa-of course it hadn't been meant for him. But he was still confused. All Rhince had really said was that he wanted it on board; and, well, it would be. Mission accomplished?
"Good man," said Drinian. "I do hope we won't have any trouble."
"We likely won't," said Billy, his tone a cheerful contrast to their faint gloom; "it's a port town, after all. Ain't it?"
"It's a mite richer than Norroway," sighed Farder Coram, as if that explained it.
"Then…" Lyra blinked, rubbing her pinky finger along a small ruffled tuff of Pan's neck-fur, "you s'pose they ain't needing us-our business-so much?"
"Don't let's talk about that now," Lucy suggested. She was tired of all this; she wanted to be happy. She hadn't felt truly happy since the Ruling Powers took Edmund from the flat and left her behind, hidden under that wretched trap-door. Now that she knew he'd escaped, and that they were on their way to a real adventure (meeting a Star Consul!), she didn't want anything to dampen the experience of jubilation. Especially not, she thought, that horrid prejudice against the Gyptians she meant to do something about one day-hopefully sooner rather than later.
AN: Reviews are nice.