21 OCTOBER 1017
TWO YEARS AND THREE DAYS AFTER THE PEVENSIES' BANISHMENT...

"I say!" said the wolf with a wag of his tail. "On top of bein' a princess, she's an artist—an' a ruddy good one, ta boot!"

"Indeed," said the lion. "You've not only got the skill to paint the shapes, but to make me feel something...other than admiration for your talents, that is."

"You all are too kind," said the cheetah as she laid the brush across the palette. "But lest we forget, this painting isn't ours. It's going to some other world, to be a portal to Narnia. And as for us, well..."

"Whinny-inny!" said Philip with a neigh. "Until now, all I've thought about was leaving Narnia. But when I look at that painting, I feel adventurous and bold."

"So do I," said Tumnus, his voice going rueful and dark. "Even so, I wish it were out of a story. Instead, we're sailing on the Dawn Treader for real. We just left Narnia, probably for the last time."

"'s true enough," said the wolf. "But then again, chap, tha's life. Ya cannae have a little adventure withou' a little risk."

"Iain's right," said the she-cheetah. "Narnia for Narnians is trying to keep humans out of the country, along with everyone who sides with the humans. They're forcing us to leave the country, which means the rest of the world is open to us. And just think! Who knows where the Dawn Treader's going to go? Maybe it will take us to Erizad or some other courageous land—or even to the edge of the world!"

"One day at a time, friends," said the lion. "One day at a time. Meanwhile, Nazeen, would you do the honors?"

The she-cheetah didn't want to. Her work was her best yet, and getting rid of it was like cutting off a limb. But the painting had a better purpose than the awed faces of its audience; it would bring someone into Narnia, perhaps that very day.

And with a sigh and a leap onto her muscular legs, the cheetah lifted the canvas out of the easel and flung it over the side. There was a plash down below, and nothing more, and the slap of the waves and the gales of the damp evening air carried on unabated.

"I do wonder what will become of it," said Philip. "Oh, I do hope it winds up somewhere regal. What if it winds up in the house of a King? Someone who can bring order to Narnia at last?"

"It's out of our hands now," said the lion. "We've built the Dawn Treader to sail, so let's follow her into the twilight and take the adventure that awaits us."

"Amen to that, John," said Tumnus. "Amen to that."

26 MAY 1941
London UK...

"And you said you found it where?" said the bony woman with a note of astonishment.

"On the banks of the Thames," said the mustached man. "It was just sitting there against a rock, letting the water wash over it. When I saw the thing intact, I couldn't believe my eyes. And look at the craftsmanship! That water looks so real, you'd swear it was moving!"

"I thought the same thing," said the woman. "For a moment I'd sworn I'd gone batty..."

"Or we both are," said the man. "So, then, what's your price?"

"I'll give you 50 pounds for it."

"Fifty pounds?!" said the mustached man. "Confound it, Alberta, what do you take me for? It's a priceless work of antiquity! Why, for it to wind up in the river, it must have come from God!"

"Well, it didn't," said the woman as she stared at the signature. "It's in a charity shoppe, languishing in the hands of the likes of you. And who exactly is this...'Nazeen'?"

"Well, I wouldn't know," said the mustached man. "Probably one of the Mohammedans."

The woman stepped back for a moment, bony hand resting on her chin, and with a twinkle in her eyes, a smile went up her face. Oh, it is lovely! A painting from the Middle East floats down the Thames, and it's by the ancient master Nazeen al-Arabi! Oh, we will be the envy of our neighbors—and those dratted Pevensies, to boot.

"A hundred, and not a pound more," said the woman.

"Sold!" said the man.