Sallowpad the Raven hopped from the windowsill onto the nearby tree branch and peered down. But the courtyard below him was empty.
Raising his wings, he took off, circling once to gain altitude and then flying towards the stables. Perhaps he'd find his target there.
He'd flown over the desert, the forest, the village, and even the streets of Calormen; he knew he would eventually find who he sought.
But eventually had turned into all morning, and Sallowpad wanted to rest his wings a bit. He'd flown all the way to Archenland just for this, the day before. It shouldn't have been that hard to find the boy or the girl. But apparently both of them stayed mainly inside; he'd only seen Prince Corin. Which wasn't helpful.
But then he heard something that was. "Ho there! Are the princes coming?" a deep male voice called.
"On their way! Jousting practice?"
"Only for Prince Corin. We're still teaching Prince Cor to ride without falling off in armour. He'll need to master that before mastering being hit."
Sallowpad, following the sound of the voices, alighted on a fence that circled a dusty patch of ground. On two sides were other fenced-in circles; on the third side was a long rectangle, with long banner-like red ribbons marking it off, and a long wooden pole held up in the middle, creating two aisles.
The Raven shook his head. Birds did not joust, and truthfully he did not see the appeal. Battles were seldom won by jousting spears, but by swords or spearmen on the ground. With all the prince needed to learn, it seemed foolish to teach him this as well.
But Sallowpad had learned long ago that there were some things it was not wise to argue with humans about, so he kept all comments to himself and watched. Soon enough two identical boys came into view, each leading a chestnut horse. But one came clad in most of his armour, his steps nearly bouncing, and he turned his horse towards the rectangle. The other turned into the Raven's circle, tied his horse to the fence, and sighed as he looked at the armour on the horse's back.
"Let's get it on," a tall human man called, coming towards the circle. "Prince Corin, your challenger and his teacher are coming shortly. Mount up!"
"Right on!" Corin called back, leading his horse towards the three-step white mounting block at one end of his area. But Cor just stood and looked at the armour.
"If you please, your royal highness."
"Here's to falling off again," the prince answered, a bit sourly, but he reached for the ties around the armour and pulled it down. The man let him put most of it on himself, offering helpful suggestions when Cor got stuck, such as "I believe that must be untied before it can be fastened on," or "I do think the strings are tangled, sir. There are meant to be two hanging down and one hanging from the top." Sallowpad thanked Aslan for his feathers; preening them might take a little bit of time, but at least it was a simpler task than this.
Once the prince had his armour on—his teacher fastening the breastplate for him, and lacing up a few things Cor couldn't reach—the prince led his horse to the wooden mounting block inside the circle and tried to get on. It took him twice, but the man nodded approvingly. "Better than yesterday."
"Not as good as Corin," said a gloomy voice from inside the full helm.
"His Royal Highness has had substantially more practice than you. You will get there. Now, ride around the circle twice at a walk, if you please, while I go check on Corin's progress."
The first circle Sallowpad just watched, one eye on this prince and one eye on the other. The more experienced brother was not, to his clearly heard contestation, getting to joust right away. Rather, his teacher wanted him to practise aiming at a pole, and the prince did not think that nearly as exciting.
"The point of learning is not excitement," his teacher pointed out, exasperated.
"But it's the point of a joust!"
Sallowpad left them to their argument and kept watching Prince Cor. He fell into the horse's movements pretty easily, but the armour sometimes made him lean too far if the horse turned more sharply.
By the time he'd completed the second circle, Corin and the teacher were still arguing. Cor pulled his horse to stop a single pace from Sallowpad. "You're big for a bird," he observed, his helm turned towards the Raven.
"Most Talking Animals are, Your Royal Highness."
"Oh!" The prince raised his hand and pushed the faceplate up. "I know your voice! You're the Narnian Raven. The one from Calormen."
"The one who visited Calormen."
The prince's face turned a little red, and the Raven realised what he'd said. "My apologies," he croaked quietly.
"Well, it's not like everyone doesn't know."
"But I should have made it seem like a thing to be ashamed of. It is that I am not from Calormen, and the mistruth, though unintentional, grated. The Lady Aravis is also from Calormen, and a credit to any nation."
"True," Cor agreed, brightening. After a moment he laughed. "You know, it's funny—while I lived in Calormen everyone knew I wasn't a Calormen even if they didn't say anything, because of my skin. Now that I live in Archenland, people think of me as Calormen."
"A conundrum," Sallowpad agreed, and Cor smiled.
"You sound a bit like my—King Lune."
Sallowpad smiled at the slightly shy title. "I accept that as praise."
Cor didn't have anything to say in response ,and the conversation died away. Glancing over at where Corin was still arguing, Cor fidgeted with the reins.
"Is there something else?" Sallowpad asked.
"Well…I was wondering why you were here. But I'm still learning when I can blurt things out like Corin, and when I should be a little more mature than that, so I didn't know if I should ask."
"Ah. I do not mind. Truthfully, I came because I wanted to speak with you."
"With me?"
"And the Lady Aravis as well. Ever since I was a chick, I have been interested in the desert. But I have met very few who have traversed it, unless they do so with a caravan or an army. I was curious what it would be like, to be on foot, with only a few companions, and I thought I might come and ask for you, and the Lady Aravis, to tell your stories. I would enjoy hearing them, if you would enjoy telling."
"There isn't much to tell," the Prince said, a little uncomfortably. "I mean—it was hot."
"It is hot for birds as well," Sallowpad croaked. "But I should ask better questions. What is the strongest memory you have of your journey?"
A stillness fell on Prince Cor. "How we seemed to be getting nowhere," he answered after a long, quiet moment. "Tashbaan never shrunk behind us, and we could see nothing changing ahead. It felt—it felt like the desert would go on forever, and we would always be in it. Like there was no end."
Sallowpad bowed his head. "How different for a Bird," he murmured, ready to leave it at that if the prince wasn't curious.
"Why?" Cor asked at once.
"'As the Crow flies' is something many Narnians say, to measure distance. Do you know why? No, I should not ask, you would not. It is because the flight of a bird, being above the trees and plants and houses, is a straight line, but also because a Bird—a Talking Bird—can often clearly see his beginning and his end, and our heads are made to measure those distances. I have always known where I am in my journey, and how much farther I have to go. And I had not thought of how it would be different for those on the ground. Thank you, Prince Cor."
"It wasn't much."
Watching him shift in his seat and nearly overbalance, Sallowpad hopped from the fence to the horse's neck. "One good turn deserves another. That's another Narnian saying. In return for your sharing something new with me, would you permit me to ride with you, and make observations that might help you stay on the horse better?"
"Oh, would you?" Glancing back over to where Corin was finally setting up to ride at the pole, Cor lowered his voice. "I'd really like to catch up. Or at least not be quite as useless as I was last time."
"Quiet. Let's begin with how to lean. Now urge your horse forwards…"
When the teacher came back over, he found Cor cantering around the ring, faceplate still up, and a look of fierce concentration pressing his lips together—but he was on the horse, and keeping his seat well. Noticing the Narnian Raven, the teacher decided to leave the two of them to it.
After all, Corin was more than enough for any one teacher to handle.
Prompt 28: Write a story taking place in the first few days after Shasta became Cor.