By the terror of a dozen eloquent Calmorene philosophers, our guest has taken to writing…
We Narnians have never been unable to agree on a common method of writing numbers. The Dogs and Cats insist on a base-eighteen numbering system, so they can use their front and back toes to count. The Cows and Sheep and most of the other two-toed Animals prefer a binary system. And the Birds refuse to consider using any method at all. I suppose that it does not matter, as they always scratch over anything they write before others can understand it.
As far as I know, though, we humans have always used the decimal system here in Narnia and Archenland. It is as codified as our grammer, and though there is debate about where the divide is, I remember one rule vividly- in prose one can use digits for a larger amount such as 1,014, and one writes out a smaller amount such as seventeen.
It is strange but it seems that humans, in the world from which our visitor come, possess the same language and grammar that we do, but their rules of writing differ on this point. I suppose that they have not reached our level of development. I asked Queen Susan if people in her world had no words for numbers beyond three, and she laughed and said that it was easier to write with digits. I do not understand, as it is such a pain to reach for the digits on the devices called "computers" she has installed at Cair Paravel.
Sir Bree! These machines are for the use of humans only! Not for horses!
Ah, there went one of the computers, hooved by poor Bree. What a pity; we had to secretly engage the British intelligence services to build the monster. And unfortunately, they were not designed for anyone besides humans! I shall have to raise the issue of this ridiculous discrimination with my monarchs… Well, they did mention that the machine was in the very early stages of development in Spare Oom.
On what was I writing? Ah, yes, this girl has no respect for either our grammar or our customs. I asked her if she would like some lessons in court protocol, and she giggled in my face and claimed that she defiantly knew it all already. She definitely is far too defiant for her own good. Also, she insists on calling my monarchs by their given names, without the royal titles! Even Mr. Tumnus does not take such liberties.*
Unfortunately, my monarchs give the people so little reason to respect them that I suppose it does not matter. Today alone, Queen Susan ordered a shopkeeper to send to Beruna for an emergency shipment of cloth, King Edmund ran into the same person twice (I believe that it was our new guest, though there are so many rumors flying about her that I can no longer tell fact from gossip), and Queen Lucy wrecked a good deal of the kitchen. My monarchs obviously do not notice all the whispering that goes on about their caprices after they pass. It almost impossible to retain a servant for more than a year; the tailors, seamstresses, and hairdressers usually last a month. King Peter, thankfully, visited his desk today. I am afraid though that we may have lost our extradition agreement with the Lone Islands in the morass it has become. But I digress.
And those ridiculously clothes our guest wears! I presume that they were in fashion at one time, but if so they are horridly outdated. With the way they cling to her, I cannot see how they can be comfortable. I have heard people ask if she is a carnival performer. But my monarchs allow this scandal to continue.
*As demonstrated in his behavior during the adventure of Queen Susan in Tashbaan.