Daring to Dream
Chapter Ten
Enduring
In the darkness she turned over, now wide-awake. Slowly, she sat up. With a thin blanket about her shoulders, she sat listening to the sounds of her family. The room was overly hot as it always was, whatever the season, but she had long grown accustomed to it.
To her right her husband snored lightly, his breathing shallow and raspy. She observed his dark form in the gloom and sighed. Though he was blunt and at times cruel, Tarneesh had never failed her as a husband. He had done all that he had thought necessary, providing her with a home, clothes and the same for their children. He was as he had always been, a blunt working man who sought to keep himself and his family alive.
Their sons were just like him and had been raised in the way that was expected in their culture. It was folly to expect love in marriage when betrothals were made for monetary reasons. It was simple, a way of life that Tarneesh understood and lived by.
So, when she regarded her husband, she could not hate him. She saw the shrewd judgement behind his decisions and could understand them fully. He had simply acted as his father had taught him to. As Calormen had taught him to.
It was not her place to judge and she knew it well … but her heart ached within her.
Silently she rose to her feet and moved between the sleeping figures. With a final glance over her shoulder, she moved through to the other room and carefully opened the front door.
Outside the night was dying and soon she would have arisen anyway to start her family's morning meal. But there was still time. In a moment of rare indulgence, she allowed herself to remember.
Carefully, she lowered herself on to the front doorstep of their dwelling and spoke a single word aloud.
"Hezayla." Without thinking, she moved her hand up to touch her hair and sighed at its coarseness. "Silk, my love?" she murmured softly, "it is not silken anymore."
Unbidden, she felt tears come to her eyes and actually let one stain her cheek before wiping it away. She shook her head and let another sigh escape from her lips. "I am not Hezayla anymore…"
Slowly, she began to sing. So softly at first that it was barely a whisper, but in her heart and in mind she heard the words come alive once more as she allowed herself to remember. Its words told of the beginning of the world, of a time when all things had been created and beauty had filled the earth.
It was a song that she had sung to Karna as a baby when she had rocked her in her arms in the stillness of the night. She had sung it on her wedding night when she had walked with Harradin in their garden, wanting to share something that was personal and precious to her, a young and naïve bride. Then she had sung it a final time, holding her baby daughter in her arms just after they had taken her husband away. Before the soldiers had come for her, to take her back to her father's house.
Slowly, the first light of dawn began to steal through the street, and eventually, she reached to dry her cheeks, now soaked with tears. She no longer was Hezayla, a Tarkheena who had been married to a Harradin Tarkhaan. An innocent, fearful child who had learnt to love and adore her husband.
No, Hezayla had died with Harradin to become Hezal, who was the wife of Tarneesh the carver. A woman who was satisfied and content with her lot. But now she had seen Hezayla again, alive and vibrant - in Harradin's daughter. She had tried to prepare her beloved daughter for the life that Tash had deigned for her. But in doing so, she had tried to smother the strength of her daughter's will - only to see it shine forth, all the more potent and strong under suppression.
She knew that there was no hope. But in that moment, Hezal wished and longed for Hezayla to exist once more. If not in herself - then in Karna. That at least one of them might know what it was to pursue a dream and have some hope of actually seeing it happen.
Marken stirred. Someone was groaning.
In the stillness of the chamber, he turned his head and listened. There it came again. A long, drawn out groan quickly stifled in a pillow.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and started to get up until he caught the sound of a voice. He lay still for several moments before a grin touched his lips. That was Timeon's voice and if he listened to the groaner – yes, that was most certainly Dalken.
Openly smiling now, Marken turned over and buried his head in the pillow to enjoy a few more minutes of rest. But sleep eluded him, and for once he found that he didn't mind in the least.
Instead he lay on his side and listened to the groans as poor Dalken was remonstrated by Timeon. Once, quite clearly, he heard the word "ale" muttered and was unable to stifle his snort.
No longer able to maintain the façade, he rose and saw Timeon glance up, his sharp eyes missing nothing in the dim light of the sleeping chamber. Even the seasoned healer was unable to hide the smirk in his eyes.
"Has Dalken been over zealous in his appreciation of the Calormen ale again?" Marken asked, motioning for Timeon to join him on the balcony, away from the soldier's hearing.
Timeon raised a sardonic eyebrow in response. "Need I dignify that question with an answer?"
He glanced over at a groan from Dalken. Marken smirked and turned to glance at the view.
Far away in the east the sun was beginning to rise in a glory of red and gold. It bathed the entire land in its warm light, illuminating the pale roofs of the buildings in the city. Far to the east it touched the tops of the distant mountains, blue and hazy in the distance. Before the peaks spread a wide land that was green and hilly. It gradually rolled away to touch the base of the mountains.
It did not seem so different to Narnia, and yet …
Timeon cleared his throat.
"You were deep in thought my lord," he observed. "Does something intrigue you about the land of Calormen?"
Marken glanced at the scene again, suddenly finding it disconcerting. "I found myself wondering at its resemblance to Narnia," he eventually confessed. "It seems so similar and yet …"
"So completely different," Timeon finished with a nod. "I feel the same way. It is a magnificent country, rich in its own traditions. Yet for all its beauty, it seems so very different to home."
Marken nodded. "Can you understand why, Timeon?"
The older man shrugged. "I have not the eloquence of your lordship, but as you ask I will attempt to express myself."
The older man paused for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. "There is a formality and mystery in the manner of Calormen that is thought to be impressive. I do not find it so myself. In fact, I find that it leaves me uncomfortable. There is a constant concern about the right way to act and the acceptable thing to say. For example, I cannot imagine laughing for the sheer joy of it. The very notion seems ridiculous in the presence of Master Tirshan, let alone the Grand Vizir. I must confess, my lord; I miss the informality of the Narnian court dreadfully. The only time that I can recall feeling at ease in this country is in the company of our fellow Narnians."
Marken considered what Timeon had said.
"I believe you are right Timeon," he eventually responded. "You have put into words what I have been wondering at throughout our time here. I could never understand why I felt so ill at ease. I found myself dreading the formality of the dinners."
The healer nodded. "I believe we all feel somewhat ill at ease, my lord Marken. I do not think that we can help but feel isolated at times in this land, courteous though its people are."
Marken was about to reply when someone knocked on the door. With a slight unwillingness, he re-entered the chamber and glanced about at his stirring men; some of them were already half dressed. Dalken was drinking heavily from a water pitcher.
"Shall I answer it, my lord?" Timeon enquired. The young lord nodded,
"It will probably be the slave girls with the water. Thank you."
Hurriedly, Marken pulled a shirt over his head and replaced his light trousers with some breeches. He had been startled the first morning when the slave girls had arrived bearing water, only to find half of the Narnian delegation topless and still asleep. One girl had been so disconcerted that she had dropped her pitcher in shock.
Still, he mused with a half-smile, the crack of breaking pottery had certainly awoken Dalken with a start.
However, it was not the slave girls at the door but Peridan, and long awake by the sight of him. Instantly alert, Marken hastily finished the buttoning of his tunic as he moved to join him.
"What is it Peridan?" he asked, seeing the man's expression.
"I need both yourself and Timeon now," he replied, "on an urgent matter that cannot be delayed."
"What is it, my lord?" Timeon asked, quickly approaching.
"I require your skills as a healer urgently, Timeon."
"My skills, but why? Lord Peridan, are you ill?"
"Nay I am well." Peridan's voice was impatient. "There is a girl who is in great need of your healing, Timeon. She has a broken arm and if it is not properly seen to by a physician it will heal wrongly and pain her for the rest of her life."
Without another word, Timeon strode to his bed and drew out his healer's satchel.
Marken forced himself to swallow the thousands of questions that entered his head. He knew better than to question Peridan when he was in such a mood, but that still begged the answer. Who was this girl? Why was she in such need to aid?
These and many other questions whirled through Marken's mind as Peridan led the way. His face etched with worry and concern. He strode ahead of his companions. But there was something else in his expression that seemed odd, a stern resolution in his eyes that seemed out of place.
Unable to restrain himself further, Marken spoke. "Peridan, who is this girl?"
At first his friend did not respond. but eventually he did, never slackening his pace. "Do you remember the Calormene servant girl that we bumped into in the street about a week ago, the one who picked up your dagger?"
Marken nodded in bewilderment.
"I rose early this morning to take a walk in the gardens. But when I re-entered the house I passed the entrance to the servants' quarters and heard a girl crying. I stopped to listen and could discern two voices. I would have passed by but one voice clearly said the name 'Karna' and my curiosity would not be satisfied until I had enquired about the girl. So I approached and asked the girls why they had spoken of Karna. The one who cried is her sister. Eventually she told me that her sister had broken her arm and that it would not heal. So I agreed to help her. We are now going to meet her now."
Marken listened in surprise. "A servant girl? Why Peridan?"
"I don't have time to tell you now, Marken, but I assure you, I will give full justification for my actions after this has been dealt with."
Still wildly curious, Marken forced himself to be content with this reply. They rounded a corner and he noticed the direction they had taken for the first time.
In the duration of their stay at Master Tirshan's house the Narnian delegation had kept to the guest quarters and the impressive public rooms. But Peridan now led them down a side passage that came out somewhere near the kitchens. Marken took in the bareness of the walls. A stark contrast to the luxury of their own chambers.
"Tarlana?" Marken looked ahead and saw Peridan approaching a peasant girl who waited silently in the shadow of a doorway. Small and stout, she was silent and watchful but there was a pain in her expression that he would not soon forget. The reddening of her eyes that gave evidence to recent tears.
Peridan approached her slowly, his voice quieter and kind. "I've brought the physician of our delegation, his name is Timeon and he will see to your sister's healing."
The girl glanced at Timeon and nodded shortly, her eyes downcast as she motioned to the direction they would take.
Peridan agreed. "Yes, we must leave immediately." Hurriedly, he turned to Marken. "I need you to excuse my disappearance from breakfast, please tell Master Tirshan that I was called away on an urgent matter of business."
"But Peridan, how long will you be gone for?"
"I cannot say, but I will return as quickly as I can." Noticing the misgiving in his friend's eye, Peridan looked at him more urgently. "I will explain myself to you properly later, Marken, I give you my word, but please make my excuses."
Marken forced down his doubts and nodded. "Of course," he said, "Be swift."
Peridan nodded and motioned for the girl to lead the way as he disappeared out of the door.
Every morning that passed that week brought a growing pain to Tarlana. With every new day she had risen with the dawn and gone to fetch the water, a task that had always been Karna's. She had helped her mother with the meals, done the chores that were asked of her and walked to work alone or sometimes with Tamara. But each step had pained her.
All about her she saw memories of her beloved sister. At the market she would pass by Master Lavarin's stall and shudder as remembrances of that night came flooding back. Once she had even seen him standing outside his stall on her way home, talking to another stallholder. Thankfully he had not seen her, but the horror of what had happened still haunted her.
It had been the same on the eighth morning since Karna's departure. As always, Tarlana had left home at the usual time and found herself in step with Tamara. This was a thing that seemed to happen more and more often as the days passed.
When they were young, Tamara had always been Karna's dear friend. But now, as they walked to Master Tirshan's house every morning a bond had grown between the two young women that was a comfort to each. They had loved Karna with the same great love. But did not dare visit her too often for fear that she might be discovered. Instead they talked of her between themselves and took comfort from these conversations.
"Have you seen her?" Tamara asked as they left the market, taking the road that led to the Tarkhaans' and Tarkheenas' homes.
Tarlana nodded. "I managed to visit Karlis after work yesterday and her bruises are fading quickly."
"What of her arm?"
Tarlana shook her head slowly. "There is nothing that can be done."
Tamara closed her eyes in pain. "So she will always have it."
Tarlana nodded weakly, forcing back the tears that once more threatened.
"We can do nothing but let it heal badly. Mother lacks the skill needed and this is no common injury. Even if we had the money to afford a healer, one would never come."
Tarlana shook her head as they came near to Master Tirshan's house. "Karna was wrong, there is no hope. Tamara, nothing can be done. She is simply lost to us all, and if Father ever deigns to visit Karlis and Ahoz then she is finished."
Tamara gently put her hand on Tarlana's shoulder. "We can only pray to Tash (may he be prasied)," she said softly. "May he have compassion upon her and bring healing."
Tarlana shook her head. "Why would Tash, the inexorable, the irresistible show mercy to a girl who has so dishonoured her family, Tamara? Why should he? She dishonoured our father so dreadfully, calling Master Lavarin vile and…"
She closed her eyes as they approached the servants' gate, feeling tears choke her as she stumbled through the doorway. Gently, Tamara put her arms around her and let Tarlana weep.
They stood like this for sometime, until Tarlana eventually found her grief too much too bear.
"Karna," she exclaimed, "why did you do it? Why must you be lost to us now, forever?"
Softly, Tamara brushed Tarlana's hair back from her face and stroked her back. "She is in the hands of Tash," she said soothingly, "he will protect her."
But the next moment a male voice suddenly spoke, making them both jump as they stared in horrified surprise at one of the barbarian lords. He regarded them intently, frightening them both with the closeness of his scrutiny.
"Did I hear you mention Karna?" he demanded, before noticing the girls' obvious fright. He was instantly contrite, softening his voice in apology. "I am sorry," he said, "I just wanted to ask why you were referring to Karna? Is she alright?"
Tarlana looked at the lord and slowly recognised him as the leader of the Narnian delegation. He could only be the man whom Karna had spoken of with such respect and warmth.
"Are you … my lord … are you Lord Peridan?" Normally she would not have dared to speak so openly to one of the nobility, but there was a gentleness to his gaze that encouraged her.
He nodded. "I am. How do you know Karna?"
"She is my sister. Oh my lord, I must apologise for disturbing you with such a noise."
"You did not disturb me," he immediately assured her. "I merely wished to know how she is and I heard you speak of her. Is she now married?"
The affect of this simple enquiry was immediate and before she could restrain herself, Tarlana felt the tears returning. Hurriedly she turned away, hiding her face in her hands.
Tamara interceded. "My lord, she is not married and has brought terrible dishonour upon her family. It would shame Tarlana to speak of it. The very mention of Karna's name is forbidden beneath her father's roof."
Peridan's shock was great. Unable to restrain his tongue, he demanded what Karna had done to bring such dishonour upon their family.
Shocked by the intensity of his questioning, Tamara exchanged a nervous glance with Tarlana. For the second time in a few minutes, Peridan was contrite. He apologised as he remembered Tamara's words - of the dishonour that mere mention of Karna's deeds would bring upon her sister.
Inwardly, he was shaken by the unexpected strength of his reaction.
As an experienced Narnian ambassador, he had spent many years refining the art of diplomacy and had thought himself to have long ago mastered his emotions. So the force of his reaction was as shocking to Peridan as it had been to these two girls. In that moment he had lost the careful control and restraint which he had come to pride himself upon.
Hurriedly, he hid his confusion behind a mask of calm, pushing the disquiet to the back of his mind. He forced himself to focus upon the task at hand.
With a softened voice he tried to ease the girls' alarm. "Is Karna alright?"
For a moment neither girl responded. Eventually, Tarlana lowered her hands from her eyes having regained control.
"She spoke highly of you my lord and because of that I want to trust you. But if I do, have I your word that you will tell none of what I am about to say?"
Peridan regarded the girl solemnly, struck by the dignity with which she spoke. Slowly he nodded. "I give you my word."
Tarlana took a deep breath, not daring to make eyes contact with Tamara as she forced herself to speak.
"My sister greatly dishonoured my father by refusing to marry the man of his choice. It was awful. She spoke rashly, calling Master Lavarin vile to his face and on the night of the betrothal. My father and Master Lavarin became angry, they beat her and she was thrown from the house.
"Somehow, by the good will of Tash (may he be praised!), she found her way to the house of my younger sister and her husband. They have taken her in and she is healing, but her arm is broken, my lord. If it is not properly set, she will be disfigured and unable to work for the rest of her life. We do not know what will become of her. If my father ever wishes to visit my sister and her husband, then he will kill Karna for sure. My mother and I can never see her again or we will risk her life."
Throughout her retelling, Tarlana spoke with that same quiet dignity, her eyes still reddened from the tears that she had so recently shed. But in her grief she had finally found the strength to speak of it without crying. Instead, she held on to her faith in Tash all the more, believing that He would deliver her sister from this dreadful situation. Eventually she added, "Tash will save her if he wills it, my lord, all we can do is pray and hope."
Peridan had listened silently to Tarlana's dialogue. Alternately horrified at the situation and then moved by her grief. The solemnity with which she had spoken struck him deeply. It was the words of a mature woman from the mouth of a girl who could not have been more than sixteen. There was a profound love in those words and yet such an acceptance of the situation. It was the tone of a woman who had seen and experienced much, but intermingled with the wrenching grief of a young girl.
Above all, he found himself wanting to help these girls. He knew that Marken would heavily disapprove. Despite it being against all levels of propriety and tact, Peridan determined to follow his instinct and act against his better judgement. Though he didn't know why, something within him needed to do this. For once in his life, he was going to act upon impulse, according to his heart rather than his head and in that decision he found a strange sense of freedom.
Peridan turned to the girls, feeling somewhat relieved now that he had determined upon a course of action.
"I am decided," he said firmly. Tarlana frowned.
Peridan noticed and quickly explained. "When I first met your sister, Tarlana, I was immediately struck by her brightness for life. There was an enthusiasm about her conversation and actions that reminded me very much of myself when I was young. She questioned me thoroughly about Narnia and seemed enchanted by the very notion of such a land.
"The vitality and joy that she showed in life greatly reminded me of home. I would protect that at any cost. To have found such joy in life in the dusty back streets of Tashbaan is a rare thing indeed, and that is why I wish to help your sister. When I spoke with her, she reminded me of why I first journeyed to Narnia. In her bright imagination I saw the enthusiasm and love of life that had once spurred me on to enter the service of High King Peter, to take that risk and ride to Narnia with my friends.
"I very much wish to help your sister. I would not have that vibrancy destroyed and that is why I am going to offer the services of our physician. He will be able to help your sister,. I just pray that it is not too late to set her arm."
He saw the expected surprise upon the girls' faces and lowered his voice again. "I am quite in earnest," he assured them, "if you will take me to your sister's home, I will go and fetch our physician."
Tarlana stared at the barbarian lord. Had she truly heard him correctly? Astonished, she tried to process the information faster, forcing herself to respond.
"But my lord," she exclaimed, "why would you do this for us?"
Peridan's eyes softened. "I esteem your sister and I would not see her future lost. To see anyone's future ruined is tragic. What sort of a knight would I be if I did not help those who needed it when it was within my power?"
She shook her head. "But my lord, we are commoners …"
"In Narnia, we do not separate commoners from nobility. Please, do I have you permission to do this?"
Dumbly, Tarlana nodded. A gentle smile touched the lord's lips. "Thank you."
Numbly, she watched him stride away.
Author's note:
Gasp! She's updating, the same week? I know, I don't believe it either, but I was lying in bed and the story was buzzing around my head. Also, a HUGE part of it has been the extraordinarily kind number of reviews. About five new people have reviewed and are enjoying this journey with me – I cannot thank you enough!
So, things are finally starting to happen! I hope you enjoyed this look into Hezal and Peridan's minds. I hope this chapter also answers a few questions I have received about Peridan's reasoning for helping Karna. I know that I have made them an eventual pairing, but I am afraid that is not going to be for a long time! We had a ton of drama and action to get through first! I have introduced the character of Marken to try and give another Narnian perspective upon the unusual nature of Peridan's actions in comparison to how he normally acts.
Also, I received a question about why Peridan said that Aslan only takes the shape of a lion. I was writing it from Peridan's perspective as a man who came to Narnia as a young man who has probably only seen Aslan a few times at the most, I don't think he would have witnessed Aslan taking another shape because he takes the other forms in Voyage of the Dawn Treader, hundreds of year after the golden age.
I know I said Susan and Edmund would be arriving soon … it might be chapter after next, we'll just have to see what happens!
HUGE thanks to anyabar, moonshine19, narniac4aslan, Kilgharrah, Zoey Rain and alivebygrace for your wonderful, encouraging reviews.
I just wanted to give a special mention to Zoey in particular, thanking you so much for being with me from the start, it means a lot that you are still enjoying the story!
Again, please read and review, let me know what you think and thank you SO much for reading!
Breeze.