Thank you, thank you so much for being patient! I do apologize for how long this update took me! However, I've already written most of the next one so hopefully it will not take me this long. Goodness sake, it's been two months!
Also, I'm very sorry to those of you whose reviews were replied to twice. The new reply feature is terribly confusing and doesn't inform you when you've replied already. I hope you didn't mind!
Massively-massive thanks to reviewers The Stars Can Shine, Random Dream, DazedinLife, justplaincrazy8, Shadowed Night Sky, ginevra85, rolletti, ProdigiousDiscourse, Window2MySoul, Wildfire2, Tonzura123, Mary, Autumnia, LunaNigra, and barelypassingforsane! You're all amazing for the taking the time to tell me what you thought! The mermaid was one of the most...interesting characters I've ever written so your response was extremely helpful. :)
One last maintenance note and then the actual story will begin. I'm moving my update day from Thursday to Saturday. (So far, not very successful but that's the goal) If I have anything ready it'll appear on Saturday from now on.
Enjoy!
Chapter 9: Master Burglar
It was in a mouse's nature to be deathly quiet when the occasion arose.
Conn was not in the least an exception to that rule. In fact, he was the sole provider of fact for such a line.
He was the Master Burglar for his nest. They referred to him as merely one of the scroungers but if they only knew his hunting grounds they would instantly name him head of the pack. But as his honor forbade him from boasting over such a trivial thing, the knowledge remained in his paws alone. However, it did not take from the thrill of the hunt.
For while most mice scavenged unwanted scraps, he had the full bounty of Cair Paravel's kitchens at his beck and call.
The entry was simple. Cair Paravel was a high traffic area, visitors from near and far arriving at her gates on an almost daily basis. And with such attention being paid to nobles, very few guards paid attention to the dusty cobbles beneath their feet.
From there it was a simple matter of timing. The guards walked a pattern that, if carefully planned, could be exploited at exactly the correct moment. Once he'd snuck into the main wings all that remained was to follow his nose. The mouth-watering scents wafting from the food left to cool overnight was far reaching. Basil and thyme, onion and tomato, but most of all the aroma of fresh bread filled the warm air and led him straight to his objective.
The kitchen was a wide room with massive ovens and long tables. Great baskets of potatoes, onions, and garlic rested on the floor by barrels of oats and flour. Strips of smoked ham and peppers hung to dry by the fireplace. Sage, rosemary, and countless other herbs decorated the long rafters.
He hadn't even begun to explore the larder just beyond the kitchen. He hadn't the need. Thick wheels of golden cheese in a leather bound chest were his main source of pillaging.
And pillage he would, in peace and quiet.
Conn had learned that the sweeps cleaned before dawn, before even the cooks were up to ensure that the job was done before the chimney flue could become warm from the day's work. To avoid being bothered, he slunk in just after the midnight watch had begun.
As long as he did not tarry past the third bell, he came and went entirely unseen.
He darted along the cool, well-laid stones on the floor, keeping always to the shadows, and approached the chest. A quick hop and he scurried towards the chest fastenings. He was halfway through tugging the leather from the buckles when the fresh scent of bread filled his nose.
Face upturned and nose twitching, he sought out the source. For one of his keen talent, he found it within moments because spread out over the largest table was an abundance of scones, plump loaves, tarts, and cookies.
Conn's eyes widened and his mind began to calculate how much he could make off with without the cooks noticing. The leather satchel across his back would hold plenty and his stealth would keep his edible treasures safe. But he couldn't have a curious cook discover his hunting grounds, not when the most beautiful mouse in the nest was taking more and more notice of him with each treasure he returned with.
All in all, he supposed he could gather the crumbs from the three braided loaves and perhaps one or two scones. The cherry embellished scones in particular looked mouth-watering.
The soft tread of shuffling steps echoed down the stone hallways and Conn froze, listening closely. The noises didn't sound like the cooks. Their tread was heavier, yet faster.
This tread sounded as though the owner was weary and not in any rush at all.
Conn twitched, his ears perking. Curiosity finally overcame him as the silence became deafening. He scrambled forward a yard, carefully peeking around the corner and staring out into the wide kitchen.
A dark haired son of Adam had entered the room.
Conn shrank back to ensure that the light gray of his fur was hidden completely in the shadow cast by a flour barrel, reaching into the deep recesses of his mind in search of a name for the weary figure meters away.
The dark-haired one. The one Aslan had redeemed from the Witch. Ah, yes, he remembered now.
Edmund.
Somehow discovering his name fissured the weight of wariness settling in Conn's bones. As he watched, the feeling shattered completely. The King was less prepared to spot a master burglar than the hapless gate guards.
King Edmund dragged a stool across the wood floor to a table in the center of the room, slumped down, hands sliding into the dark tangles of his hair, and sighed. Although the scones in front of him smelled tantalizing he stared at them, his gaze glassy and somehow very far away.
Conn suddenly found himself briefly wishing he'd waited until later to raid the kitchen. Disgruntled cooks were easier to handle than this. After all, upon discovering a mouse, the cooks only set traps, and traps, while inconvenient, were considerably easier than facing a brooding King.
And it wasn't as if he could continue collecting his scraps. For then the King would know he was there. Then Conn would feel a burglar's honor to remain. One did not run from a King, one stayed and faced the fury.
In this case, King Edmund would eventually quit the kitchen and return to his rooms, and Conn, if he had remained undiscovered, would find his way back to the nest with the crumbs.
Therefore, he waited, quieting his breath, and refusing to allow his nervous anticipation to give away his position with an ill-timed twitch.
At first, the son of Adam did nothing, merely watched the unseen horizon. His skin was pale and there were dark smudges under his eyes. Another exhale and he reached for a raisin studded scone.
His hand was hovering over a second when a thump startled both King Edmund and Conn. A slender, beautiful daughter of Eve entered the kitchen instead. She was too tall to be the youngest…Queen Susan then.
She, too, appeared slightly frayed at the edges, her hair hanging limp about her shoulders. When her pale eyes fell on King Edmund they widened and then immediately narrowed. "You are supposed to be asleep."
King Edmund didn't seem disturbed in the slightest. He grinned up at her. "And you're not?"
In response, Queen Susan sank down into the chair beside him, snatching up a blueberry scone. She fingered the deep blue fruits but did not partake of them.
Conn felt the empty weight of the satchel on his back and shifted a paw. The third bell could not be far off and he would not be denied his prize…However, the two were in such an arrangement that his position would be compromised if he moved beyond the dark cloak of the flour barrel.
"Do you…do you miss it? Home, I mean." Queen Susan spoke quietly, the dulcet tones of her voice edged with concern.
"Sometimes." The King shrugged, his eyes black as they stared at the morsel. Conn easily spotted the deception through the veneer of ambivalence.
A sudden feeling of apprehension at overhearing such a private conversation overcame Conn. After all, they could be on the verge of unknowingly revealing a state secret. He was only here for a few crumbs of sweetened bread, not what troubled thoughts plagued the monarchs in the dark watches of the night. Nevertheless, there seemed no way of escape.
"The lioness today at court, Abeni…she sounded like Mum."
Conn had never heard in all the lore about the four monarchs of a time where they were ever referred to as children. But in that moment, the Queen and King before him appeared as small as the little curled in the warmth of the nest.
The Queen continued and as she spoke she appeared to shrink, shoulders caving forward, voice quieter than ever. "Mum would have wakened us right about now."
"With itchy school uniforms in hand."
"She used to stay up half the night pressing them."
"Still itched." King Edmund's words were in jest but his tone alluded to a deep sense of loss for a loved one.
Silence hung over the kitchen and Conn felt last of the adrenaline of the hunt drain away. This morning was turning into a test of patience, not cunning or athleticism or bravery. Patience was a rather dull virtue, in his opinion. Necessary occasionally, but dull nonetheless.
And that silence was only breached by the quiet shuffle of another pair of feet. The two straightened a touch but didn't seem overly surprised to see a shorter daughter of Eve enter, fingers pulling the collar of her nightdress closer.
King Edmund was silent for a half a beat, running his finger tips over the sugary scone's edge, then said, "These scones would be particularly good with a tall glass of milk, don't you think?"
"Edmund." The youngest Queen's brows knotted, and Conn received the most distinct impression that a scolding was about to take place. "Do you really expect me to believe you and Susan were down here eating scones while-"
"Sit with us, Lu?" Queen Susan gestured to an open spot at her side and neatly ended the reprimand before it had really begun.
"Actually, I think I will." She dragged a short barrel to the table and plopped down. "Cinnamon scone, please."
The requested morsel was handed over and Queen Lucy broke it in half, beginning to eat the smaller of the two. At their younger sister's entrance, Queen Susan and King Edmund began to make a show of eating their scones as well.
"Couldn't sleep?" Queen Susan tried to hide her concern, forcing a feathery lightness, and Conn observed that this family would be an absolute failure on a reconnaissance operation. They merely could not hide their true thoughts.
The little Queen nodded and silence fell heavily over the room as they clearly struggled for words. Suddenly, Queen Lucy spoke, "I wonder what Mum would think of us being royalty."
King Edmund and Queen Susan both straightened an inch, sharing a glance that contained a private conference. But neither seemed to come to a conclusion as they did not respond immediately, preferred instead to hold their tongues. Again, it was Queen Susan who would rally first, though the effort was weary and thinly held in place.
"I'm not sure, Lu." Her sister turned the scone over and over in her fingers, the light from the tapers reflecting off the smooth skin of the blueberries.
Conn could only imagine the moist flavor of the bread and the round dark fruit imbedded in it. Already his mouth was filling with saliva, his mind's eye swarmed with images of sugary delicacies.
He unlaced the hood of his pack and smoothed the wrinkles away, prepared to gather the remainders…if only they would just leave. The cheese stores were just behind him, scarcely a few steps away, but they were such a second-rate pick.
"Would she be proud of us, do you think?"
Shoulder's tightening, Conn wondered if he could make the dash to the store of oats without the monarchs noticing. He was only here for the morsels. What he was getting was not the aforementioned morsels.
"Oh Lu…of course, she would."
"Really?"
"Of course!" King Edmund had none of the low, comforting tones of his sister, only a trickle of laughter.
Conn couldn't help wondering how many awkward moments would pass before this family would leave him in peace to gather the crumbs for his nest.
Queen Susan cleared her throat. "How's your scone?"
"Mum would have added more cinnamon." The little Queen reflected after taking a small bite.
"Perhaps we could tell the cook to add a bit more then?" Queen Susan tried yet again to lighten the mood.
Her efforts were duly ignored as shuffling yet again echoed down the corridor and another figure entered the kitchen. His shoulders were stooped and the lines about his eyes spoke of long nights of lost sleep.
"That's where all the scones get to." He mentioned dryly, motioning to the morsel in King Edmund's hand.
For the younger King's part, his impervious nature hadn't changed at all. He neatly slid an overturned barrel over to the table, scooting his stool a bit farther down to make room. The move was so swiftly and surreptitiously done that had not Conn trained himself to notice such easy actions he might have missed it entirely.
King Peter dragged a hand through the tangled strands of his hair and collapsed down next to them. "Not interested getting rest tonight, are we?"
"Come on, Pete. It's not like you were getting any sleep either."
"Ed…" King Peter snatched up the closest scone and took a bite.
"He's right you know." Queen Susan seemed much inclined to holding the scone rather than eating it.
The King wrinkled his nose, setting the cinnamon dusted scone aside. "Lu, pass me a raisin one, won't you?"
"Here you are, Peter. I don't think you'll find them much better than the cinnamon ones though. Ed scarcely taken two bites of his."
The mentioned King fidgeted in his seat and then he mumbled, "they don't taste quite right."
Several minutes later while Conn was still trying to discover a way to reach the scones, King Peter shoved the scone back, crumbs flaking off and powdering the wooden table. "I think you might be correct, Lu. Something isn't quite right."
"Mum would have fixed them." The little Queen's confidence radiated across the room but even in that Conn felt the strangest remorse coat the back of his mouth.
And it was this final moment that Conn finally let his objective fade. Cheese would have to be his trophy this night. However, he would like to see any of the pack bring back cheese as fine as what lay in Cair Paravel.
He'd filled his pack with creamy tidbits of a pale cheese when the siblings returned to their conversation, adjusting to the weight and mentally preparing himself for the excursion back to nest.
Reluctance permeated Queen Susan's words. "I suppose we've got to head back. They'll be wondering where we are soon."
Her younger brother stifled a yawn. "Why? There's no use in trying to sleep. We'll be called for within the hour, I warrant."
"An hour is an hour. Come on."
"Couldn't we just call a national holiday?" Queen Lucy's face, innocently hopeful, gazed up at her siblings.
King Peter's smile was wry. "I think they'd need a bit more notice than this."
For the first time, Conn heard King Edmund sound free from the dark mood that had followed him. "Exactly, Lu. You've got to schedule holidays at least one month in advance."
Conn shouldered his pack and made his unseen journey out of Cair Paravel's kitchens, vowing to return at the first bell in the future. Not only were chimney squirrels to be avoided but brooding Kings and Queens as well, for they said the strangest things.
What was a holiday?