Chapter 2: Southern March Visit
Aravis learned much about herself and others in her time at Anvard. Her days were filled with delightful little duties—she never found herself bored, but ached to be as much of a help as her friends would allow. She often wondered if this was because she was afraid that they would disown her if she stopped making herself useful, but as soon as her thoughts drifted thusly, she often reproached herself. Cor, Corin—King Lune… they would never do something like that. Aravis learned about the heart and its tendency to deceit a person, its ability to love and hate freely in the same moment, and its bravery and cowardice over the simplest things. She'd discovered things about herself—about the world at large—that she could not have imagined in her greatest fancy.
She'd been given the opportunity to know and spend time with the highest delight of her life. She knew gladness and despair, the height of exultation, and the depth of ruin. She came to know what it meant to live—to live with every ounce of life inside her… to reach for her hopes and take hold and refuse to let go, come frost or fire.
She… learned the power and pain of love… unrequited love, the bane of all existence. It literally ached in her chest, when she thought of Cor… his perfection in her eyes, and the worry that he would never see her as she so thoroughly saw him.
She did ride out to see the Hermit of the Southern March. No—to see Cor. She could not deny, but she was madness and living death without him. She could not exist apart from Prince Cor. She knew then, as she rode hard from Anvard, the wind cold on her sweaty face, that she was lost in a fierce love for the man she'd once scorned.
It was with a wild heart that she neared the lush, green wall that surrounded the Hermit's home. He'd seen her coming in his pool—it was clear. For he stood at the old wooden doorway and waited for her to dismount. "Well met, my daughter," said the old man kindly in his ancient, creaking voice. He'd not changed in the years she'd known him—he was a comfort to her weary travels and her wild heart.
"And you, o my father," said Aravis. "It has been too long." They embraced like a father and daughter, and with his hand on her back, he led her into the enclosure while she pulled her hair back from her face.
"What a wonderful surprise," said the Hermit. "To have a prince and a Tarkheena share my meal tonight."
"Surely not a surprise, Torlian," said Cor, and suddenly Aravis turned her head to see him, her heart beating thickly. He sat on a rough wooden bench at a table of the same kind, a goblet in his hand and half of a smile on his lips. Aravis' insides leapt at the sight. It was good to be here this night. "For you saw us coming, surely," Cor continued.
"Indeed, my son," said Torlian, for that was the name of the Hermit. "But it was a surprise to behold you in my pool. I was searching for something to entertain, and was blessed with the forthcoming visit. And the Tarkheena would have come to us certainly by surprise, had I not the inclination to look in the pool once more before bed."
"Am I yet 'the Tarkheena' to you, father?" asked Aravis, taking a proffered seat opposite Cor.
Torlian smiled. "It is not a disgrace to embrace your lineage, my daughter. You do your race a great credit—one many have failed to do in years past. Be content."
Aravis smiled then glanced at Cor, who was smiling at her pleasantly. She wondered if he knew just how silver his eyes looked in the moon and firelight. "How are you, Aravis?" …Or how wonderful it felt to have her name spill from his tongue?
"I am well, Prince," Aravis said, feeling shy. "You are, I trust, also well?"
"Very," said Cor. "And all the more with your arrival, my lady." He raised his goblet in salute, and she nodded to his courtesy. It was good the light was faint—for she was certain even her dark skin might show the color of cherries that evening.
Torlian served her wine, bread, and cheese, and sat with them, drinking first to Aslan, and drinking her health. "You must come to see an old man more often, my children," he said, a mock frown on his face.
"It has been difficult," said Cor, stretching. "I train daily now, Torlian. Surely you must know about…" he paused.
"You can speak of it," Aravis said. "It is only the incessant gossip by courtiers that it is intolerable."
Cor nodded, and then continued. "As you know, the new Tisroc is taking his place in Tashbaan, and we have been invited as neighboring sovereigns to attend the coronation. Father… is too ill to attend." He spoke with regret at his father's failing health, and Aravis felt pain for him.
"The new Tisroc will not of course leave Tashbaan for all the gold in Calormen," Aravis added, and Torlian chuckled lightly. It was common knowledge that Prince Rabadash was rather fond of his human form, and did not take well to the idea of turning once more into an ass. It had made relations with Calormen peaceful, no doubt.
"True, true," said Torlian. "And what say you to this invite, Prince?"
"My father the King wishes Corin and me… and Aravis… to attend in order to foster our mutual peace," said Cor.
"Ah," said Torlian. "It is what you do not say, rather than what you say that makes me know your mind on the matter." Looking at Cor, Aravis saw what the Hermit did—dislike for all things Calormine on his face. Though she understood his feeling, there was a pang of hurt in her heart—she was Calormine… what must he think of her?
"I couldn't care less if the new Tisroc hangs himself," said Cor, throwing his hands up.
"And you think it unwise to venture into afore-mentioned enemy territory?" asked the Hermit wisely.
"You speak with knowledge," said Cor with a deep sigh. "Aravis disagrees with me." He gestured to her, a pained smile on his face.
"I only think," said Aravis, expertly controlling her ire at his distaste for her people—no matter what they'd done, she would always be one of them—"That we should listen to your father. And that it wouldn't hurt to show some grace."
"My foot," said Cor, pounding his fist on the table. "Do you not remember the people who would force you into a marriage of slavery? Those who would embrace you only to stick a knife in your back?"
"Calm yourself, my son," said Torlian, placing an old, withered hand on Cor's. "We are not your enemies." He looked at Aravis. "I see you have not come to an agreement on this matter. And… what will happen?"
"Of course we will go," said Cor resignedly. "Though I loathe every mother's son of them. I will obey my father the King. I'll be hanged if I make a Calormine visit when I rule Archenland." He muttered as an afterthought.
Aravis did not speak. How could she? Though he'd claimed friendship with her, Cor hated those who were her kin. She had no great love for them, but at least she did not share Cor's great hatred. Perhaps he tolerated Aravis because she'd run away... he'd decided to treat her as an adopted sister. Had his heart grown so bitter to Calormen in these years, though he, like Aravis, had been raised there?
The Hermit spoke her thought, though Aravis would never admit to it. "You must remember, we are in the presence of a Calormine," was all he said, but his voice carried a certain severity that warned Cor against further insult.
"Oh, Aravis knows I'm not talking about her," he said, waving the comment off and smiling brightly at her. "Don't you?" It was hard to resist that smile, and Aravis found herself smiling back at him. "See? She doesn't mind."
"Well," she said, but did not finish the thought. "Cor—it's just… we can make an effort, you know? True, no Tarkaan would do the same for us… but that is what makes us freeborn, isn't it? Or, rather, it's what makes you freeborn… I'm just… here by choice."
"You are a noble lady," said Cor, shaking his head. "Better person than I am, or could hope to be."
"She is, indeed, filled with graceful virtues," said Torlian, raising his own goblet to me.
"I'm surprised," said Cor. "That you would even want to go back. What if your father sees you? Don't they have a law about daughters running away from an arranged marriage?"
"It is true," Aravis said, "They would consider me a criminal, and wish to execute me."
"Then why do you insist on going?" asked Cor.
"Because I know you and Corin will be there to protect me," she replied simply. Realizing the implication of her comment, she hastily added, "As you would for any friend… or… sister."
Torlian smiled and winked an eye at Aravis; making her wonder if he knew what she'd been thinking. "Of course they would," said the Hermit offhandedly. "But now, I believe it is time for sleep. You can discuss this in the morning. I will make up a bed for each of you." He smiled at both Cor and me, and then left the table.
Suddenly, Aravis wished he had not left them alone. She did not know what to say—but Cor spared her. "It's beautiful here at night," he said. "I'd forgotten."
"It is," she replied lamely.
"How are you, Aravis?"
"Well," she said. "I was… a little bored, and your coming gave me the idea to visit as well."
"I'm so very glad that it did," said Cor, smiling with genuine friendship.
"Cor… about the other day…"
"What?"
"I am sorry for the things I said. It was most ungracious of me. Forgive me."
"Forgiven," said Cor, winking in the same way the Hermit had. "And forgotten. I am sure I would not have enjoyed being knocked into the mud either."
"But I let my temper get the best of me," she said. "I thought… at least that part of Calormen was gone from me…."
"Aravis," said Cor, standing up and offering me a hand. Taking it, Aravis rose as well, and then hastily let it go. "I truly wasn't speaking of you when I voiced my dislike for Calormines. I hope you realize that I… esteem you greatly."
Esteem, Aravis thought. Not quite the word she hoped for. "I know, Cor," She said, trying to wave away his concern.
"Besides," he added. "I myself was Calormine four years ago."
"You still are in some ways," she remarked. "Your voice… while not giving you away completely, certainly belies your northern blood."
"A mixture of the north and the south in me," said Cor, and laughed. "What a mess I will make as king!"
"Oh, I don't think so," said Aravis, and before she could stop herself added, "You're going to be perfect."
Aravis looked at his face, seeing a little embarrassment—perhaps he thought she was simply flattering him? She was very relieved that, at that moment, Torlian came out and announced their beds were ready.