Where The Heart Is 4/4

[aella_irene]

The day dawns cold and clear, with a wind blowing in off the sea.

They dress alone, Pauli lacing up Tjorven's dress. It is surprising, how familiar it is, when he hasn't been called upon to ladies maid anyone since the Midwinter before he left, when 'Setta got caught up in her skirts and laces, and started crying, because she wanted to look pretty, and everything was going wrong.

He fastens the Star of the Sea around her neck; Tjorven lowers the circlet onto his head, adjusting it until it sits right.

"You look like a prince," she says.

"I look like my father," Pauli says, looking in the mirror. Tjorven tucks her arm through his. Her gown is in what must be the prevailing style- a tight bodice, and three-layered skirts. She is almost as beautiful as she was at their wedding.

There is a tapping at the door, and then Meklet says, "My Lord? You need to come down now."

Pauli takes a deep breath, then offers his arm to Tjorven and steps toward the door.

They meet the others in one of the anterooms. They are in some semblance of processional order, Richard and Victoria at the front, looking alone, then Ala, Eddard, Piotr and Marcellus, then Susanna and her husband, then Val and Lucinde, then Tahmoh, followed by the cousins. Pauli leads Tjorven to their place, in front of Cosetta, behind Uncle Kitay's son Edmund.

The drums begin, heavy, solemn, carried by four fauns in uniform in front of them, and the Guard paces out.

The procession follows them.

The coffin is already in the Great Hall, on a bier before the thrones. There are only two left. Richard and Victoria stop directly in front of it, but Alambil and the others go on, stringing themselves out in a line across the whole of the Hall.

It needs two layers.

Pauli can see his uncle's face. There are shadows there that were never there before, silver in Jack's golden hair, but no sign of violent death, just sorrow.

He can't see Richard's face, but can see the angle of his head, the way he stands. He looks utterly lost.

The service begins, long and sonorous, and Pauli straightens his back. On Tjorven's other side, he can hear 'Setta, sniffing, trying to keep the tears at bay.

He sees Victoria, behind the cover of her skirts, hold out her hand to her brother and twine their fingers together.

Somewhere to the side, someone- a woman, is crying. He isn't sure who.

Pauli reaches for Tjorven's hand, clasping her beringed fingers in his, and feels her grip tighten against him.

The service seems to go on for a long time.

Finally, finally, it ends, and six of the men- Eddard, Piotr, Marcellus, Val, Kitay, and Cal, step forward to lift the coffin.

He sees Richard flinch as the drums begin, solemn and steady

Victoria wraps an arm around his waist, and the procession begins.

They emerge into the cold sea air of Cair Paravel, where the pathways are lined with silent watchers, heads bowed and uncovered, dressed in black.

Before him, he sees Susanna stumble, and be caught by Aymeri. Tjorven's grip on his arm tightens.

"Daddy," someone -- Lucinde? Tahmoh? -- whispers, but he doesn't know who. All he can do is stare steadfastly ahead, ignoring the tears pricking at his eyes (his mother's funeral, all those years ago, when he'd barely known what was happening), and keep walking.

They turn the corner, on to the wide path down to the crypt.

Behind him, Cosetta has stopped even pretending not to cry, and he wants to pull her forward, hold her hand and take her in his arms once he can. But he can't, because Cosetta would probably stab him with the knife she keeps up her sleeve, and he won't let something like that ruin Uncle Jack's funeral. He won't.

They reach the doors of the crypt, yawning open, and move inside, stone ringing with the sound of their feet.

The dead are waiting for them.

The great sarcophagi, silent and still, and Jack's among them all. The procession stops, and the coffin bearers move forward.

He hears Cal's voice, so soft that he's probably not even aware he's speaking.

“Eleuthera, Death Goddess, Lady of the Lone Lands, Eternal Peacemaker, take this soul into your keeping and bring him home. Zaid, Wanderer, Lord of the Long Road, Pathmaker, light his way so that he does not stray from the path. Jendresi, Father of Kings, Lord of Justice and Mercy -”

One of the priests of Aslan- where did he come from, looks vaguely offended.

The men place the coffin, slow and careful, into the sarcophagus. There is a thump as it lands, and then a larger thump, as Alambil falls to her knees, weeping.

Victoria's grip on Richard has tightened, as if she's half afraid he's going to throw himself in after Jack.

And there's probably reason to think so, because Pauli watches him turn to the sarcophagus like a dog on a point, taking a step toward it. Victoria's knuckles are white on his wrist.

And then the sarcophagus is closed, and Richard slumps, and Victoria wraps her arms around him, hugging him.

Piotr has moved back and is raising Alambil to her feet, gently.

"He's gone," Richard says, his voice suddenly clear, shockingly loud in the crypts. "He's gone."

Eddard puts a hand on his back. Cal shifts from foot to foot, as if wondering whether to move forward.

"He's gone," he says again, and begins to cry.

"I know," Victoria says, with a break in her voice. "Oh, Dickie, I know."

Behind him, he can hear Carelia hugging Cosetta.

All of them are paralysed, no one seeming to know what to do.

Cal puts a hand on Richard's shoulder and squeezes. "Now we remember him," he says. "Now we remember both of them."

Richard nods, once, jerkily, and moves to the steps up to the castle.

He looks old, it strikes Pauli slowly, especially leaning on Cal and Victoria for support.

In their absence, the Great Hall has been set up for a feast. Pauli and Tjorven are at the High Table, and Cosetta is next to him.

Pauli glances at her, uncertain, but Cosetta just stares steadfastly away in the opposite direction and Pauli makes himself look down at his empty plate instead. A faun steps up behind him and fills his wrought-silver and glass goblet, elaborate dwarf-work from the Southern Marches with a pattern that reminds him of summer forests picked out in silver and frosted glass and gold filigree.

He knows that Richard is supposed to make the first toast, but it's obvious that Richard couldn't speak even if he wanted to, and Victoria stands up instead.

"To my brother Jack," she says, and her voice barely wavers, "May his passage to the Emperor's arms be swift, and his memory live forever."

They drink.

Cal stands next. "To my cousin Jack," he says. "I loved him like a brother."

Even now, there's a quiet murmur through the hall, though Cal doesn't seem to notice.

"May the Lady of the Lost Lands welcome him to her home and the Lord of the Long Road light his way," he says, and drinks.

Alambil rises then, "To my father," she says, "May he find those he loved awaiting him."

When she sits it is with a graceless thump, and Eddard reaches out to cover one too-thin wrist with his hand.

Marcellus rises next. "To my father," he says. "I loved him, and I'll miss him. May he find peace."

"So say we all," says Susanna as he sits. There are a few more toasts: from one of the surviving Ettore sisters, Pauli's never been able to tell them apart, except for Alix, the eldest, who's dead, and Eleeza, the youngest, who has a hook, one from a surgeon from the Free Hospital down in the city proper, one from Mishka, the Head of his Guard, who chokes on it halfway through. Richard, the nearest, reaches out to touch him on the back of his neck, and Mishka rubs his head against Richard's hand in silent comfort.

Then comes the soup.

The china is finer than Pauli's ever seen, maybe constructed especially for this purpose, and the spoon is silver and gold filigree, stylized selkies. He's sure that the soup is probably magnificent, but it's flat in his mouth.

He sees Alambil take precisely ten spoonfuls, and then stop. Next to him, Tjorven eyes the rest of the table, and puts down her spoon, a third of the bowl gone. He does the same.

They need to pace themselves, there are still fourteen courses left: appetizers, three types of meat, three types of fish, cheese, fruits, and desserts, interspersed with subtleties, each of which counts as a course.

And all with the appropriate wines.

Uncle Richard isn't eating at all; Pauli sees Victoria murmur to him urgently, but Richard doesn't seem to hear her, staring away into blank space, at all the places on the wall that are covered by either battle trophies or tapestries. Lucinde is crying into her soup, and Val wraps an arm around her shoulders.

Alambil is looking longingly at her now-empty glass, and next to him, he can hear Cosetta, crying as quietly as she can, so that she doesn't disturb the others.

About halfway through the appetizers, Pauli sees Cal swallow hard, take a sip of his wine, and say, "Jack and I grew up together, here in Cair Paravel. I don't think I have a single memory of my childhood that doesn't have Jack in it."

"When we were five," Richard says slowly, "He fell out of a tree near Arn Abedin. I was down here, and I felt it, fell out of my seat, and scared everyone half to death."

"I don't remember it," Victoria says, "but the first time I walked, I was in the eastern field and Jack was watching me, reading some medical book, and then he held up his arms and said, 'Come here, Tori,' and I took two steps, then three, and then I was holding his hands."

"He carried you in," says Rakisa Seaworth, "Shouting, 'Mama! Papa! Vicky can walk! Aunt Susan was in a meeting with me, and she looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and said, 'Well why are you carrying her then? Give her a chance to practice!'"

"I remember it," says Cosetta, looking fixedly at her plate, "Learning to walk. I was in the surgery with him, in that little chair he had next to his desk, and he was putting sweets in a jar, and I wanted one. So I walked over. And he swung me up on a counter, and gave me three."

Tahmoh cups both her hands around her wine glass and says, "He always had sweets, the best ones in the castle, and I asked him once where he got them and he told me it was a secret and I don't know --" She starts crying, the words lost in the tears, and Piotr gets up to go over to her.

"He didn't tell me, or Helen, either," Richard says distantly, "And when Ala was born he was holding her, and he said, he said, 'It's a baby', so wonderingly. And Helen looked up and said, 'What were you expecting, a kitten?'"

Alambil's hand flies to her mouth.

"He called me that. For years and years, he called me 'Kitten', and I never knew why."

One of the castle cats, sitting primly on the far end of the high table, says shyly, "The first time I was pregnant I was too young and too thin, and His Majesty was in the stables when the labor pains started, and he heard me screaming and he came, and he stayed with me, and showed me my kittens when they were born."

"He told me it would be alright," Susanna bursts out, "When Flora was born, he said it would be alright, that I was more like Mama than Grandmamma, that everything was fine. And then she came, and he was happy, I swear, he was happy."

"He threw me off the docks when I was nine," Eddard says. "I was afraid of the water because of the thing that had washed up on the beach six years ago, and when I was nine he took me down to the docks and threw me off. And I swam."

"I fell down some stairs," says Piotr, "When I was little. And before I could even breathe in to scream he was there, picking me up and saying that I had a broken wrist, but that was nothing to worry about, because the bone would heal easily. And then he gave me sweets and a little bit of brandy, and bandaged me up."

"His 'medicinal' brandy," says Victoria, and smiles, remembering, "Brought out for every occasion. I can remember Helen running in, and saying, 'Darling, I need your medicinal brandy.', and he said, 'What's wrong?' 'I am suffering from a case of acute boredom!'"

"At the first ball when I wore a woman's dress, not a girl's," Lucinde says, "when the Shoushani ambassador's son wouldn't leave me alone and Ala and Ned and Piotr were gone, Papa came and danced with me and made sure that -- Marco or Paolo or whatever his name was -- wouldn't hurt me."

"He danced with me," Richard says, "The night we got married. Helen had gone off to do- something, fix her garters or give her earrings to someone for safe keeping, and they were playing a waltz, and he grabbed me by the hand, and danced with me, ignoring everyone who was staring."

"We were with the Red Company together," Cal says. "Not contracted, but in training; Uncle Peter sent us, and we got into this ridiculous fight with this Company ensign who was a seventh son from Natare, something like that, and Jack took him down in about fifteen seconds."

"People always underestimated him," says Victoria, "We were in Natare once, and some idiots tried to kidnap him because they thought it would be easier. They didn't even get him to the door."

"He was always getting himself accidentally kidnapped," says Nerissa. "People never thought he was actually the prince, or the king, they just thought he was a doctor, or that he was handsome."

"He was once kidnapped by a Calormene slave-trader," Richard says with a sigh, "I was still trying to bargain him down when Helen came over the hill with a regiment. Thirty camels."

"They started with a hundred," says Mishka. "Because he was trained as a doctor, yes? But he had a broken arm, and so he was damaged goods, and that brought the price down."

"He'd started treating the others in the slave train, and threw a fit when we came to get him," says Richard.

"He would help anyone who asked," Alambil says with a sob. "Even our enemies."

"He kept his oaths," Richard says, "Always."

The servers are moving quietly among them, swapping in the first meat course.

"He danced with me," Victoria says. "He would always dance with me."

Richard seems as if he would like to speak, but chokes. Victoria reaches for him and grips his wrist.

Rakisa starts telling a somewhat convoluted story concerning her, Jack, a Galman merchanter, and the trade route to the Alvadaran Islands.

Jack was popular and well-loved, and there are many stories to be told, enough to last them through the dinner that never seems to end. At one point, when it's clear that Eleeza Ettore is coming to the end of her story, Tjorven bends her head to Pauli's and says, "You haven't spoken. Isn't there anything --"

Pauli takes a deep breath. A thousand things come to mind, but there is one that stands out.

"When I was three," he says into the silence, "Uncle Jack came home, and told me that my father was dead."

"He hadn't slept at all riding back from the northern border, but he still dismounted and came to me and he --" Pauli swallows, blinking back the tears that threaten to come. "He gave me a lock of my father's hair, and told me he was dead, and told me to look after my sister."

"And you did," says Eleeza, and Cosetta lifts her head, colour flaring in her cheeks.

"I'd hardly call 'running off to be a pirate' looking after me," she snaps.

"Cosetta," Victoria says harshly.

"Do you think I would have left if I didn't think you could take care of yourself?" Pauli says. "By then you'd barely look at me, 'Setta!"

"Pauli!" Cal snaps.

"I was thirteen," says Cosetta, and Pauli raises an eyebrow at her, in that way he knows she despises.

Unfortunately, she's holding her fish knife.

"You fucking pirate bastard," she snarls, and kicks her chair over getting out of it, making Locke, on her other side, skitter backwards.

Pauli is not going to draw a knife at the dinner table, so he jumps out of his own chair, dodging her swipes with the knife.

The blade catches in his sleeve, tearing it, and someone is shouting Cosetta's name -- someone is shouting his name -- but all he can see is the utter rage in his sister’s eyes, and he thinks dimly, What did I do to make my own flesh and blood hate me so?

She's going at him with everything she's got and she's good, but hampered by her skirts, and so he's faster, dancing backwards, eyes on her chest, to try and divine where the blade will go.

And then Tjorven is there, between them, slamming the heel of her hand up beneath Cosetta's jaw and snapping her wrist neatly with the other hand.

The knife is surprisingly loud when it clatters to the floor.

Cosetta falls to the floor a moment after, landing with a thump. There is utter, utter silence, and then Carelia stands up, and comes over, and lifts her.

"Just because she's the only one who said it, don't think she's the only one who thinks it," she says, "She just felt it more deeply. Grissy?”

A woman rises to her feet at one of the lower tables, and says, “I'll have a look at her. Bring her down to the infirmary.”

They leaves. Pauli and Tjorven sit down again.

Victoria, who still manages not to look even slightly shaken, snaps her fingers and says, "Pauli, Tjorven, come here."

"Aunt Vicky, I don't think that's --" someone -- Tahmoh? -- says.

"Be silent, child, if I had wanted you to speak I would have said so. Pauli, come here."

Pauli rises and goes, silently, feeling the eyes of the entire hall on him. Victoria rises as he approaches, taking his hand and Tjorven's.

"In these past few years," she says, "we have lost our nephew, our cousins, our sister and queen, and our brother and king. But we have also been given a great gift; our nephew and blood on both sides, Lord Pauli Pevensie, by the grace of Aslan Duke of Yrongard, Marquess of Owlswood, Viscount of the Southern Marches, Knight of the Noble Order of the Knife, by the providence of Tethys, Neptune, Calypso, and Njord a free captain of the seas, has been returned to us. Let it be understood that he and his wife will pass without let or hindrance through all Narnian lands and waters, being given all possible assistance that they request or require." She pauses. "And don't provoke your sister again. You're two years older than her, you know better than that."

"Your majesty," Pauli says, shaken. He'd forgotten most of his titles -- he'd inherited both his father's and his mother's, and his father had been King Edmund's son and his mother Queen Lucy's daughter. He'd thought that all of them must have passed to Cosetta by now.

"Now, sit down again," she says kindly. Throughout it all, Richard hasn't said a word.

"Your majesty," Pauli says again, and bows at the correct angle. Tjorven curtsies, her expression inscrutable.

They sit down again, Pauli is horribly conscious of Cosetta's empty seat next to him.

There are a few more moments of silence, and then a buzz of conversation rises up.

"You did not tell me you were a duke, or a marquess, or a viscount," Tjorven hisses at him. "Or a knight!"

"I'm not much of a knight, I haven't been on a horse in nine years," Pauli says. "It was mostly ceremonial. And -- I'd forgotten. All the rest."

"We don't use them much," murmurs Cousin Edmund, on her other side.

"Really," Pauli says, a little desperately. "I don't have any land or holdings or anything -- at least I hope I don't --"

"There’s Yrongard, but it's not really much of a catch," Edmund says. "It's this old border fort on the edge of the Southern Marches, near the Archenlander border, from the High King's time, but since the border was expanded and Geb Gearding was built there's not really much there. A regiment, I think, but I'm not sure who's commanding."

"See!" Pauli says, "All it means is that you can be announced as the Duchess of Yrongard, if you want to be, and our eldest child will have the courtesy title of Marquess or Marchioness of Owlswood!"

"And what is there there?"

"Rather a lot of trees, some very large owls, a lot of Narnians, and the Army sometimes does archery training there," says Locke. "Aside from people's homes, I don't think there actually any buildings there. There aren't a lot in Narnia, you know, not outside of the white city."

Tjorven looks distinctly dubious. On the other side of the table, Rakisa has started talking about how the entire castle found out that Aunt Helen and Uncle Jack and Uncle Richard were sleeping together.

"I know it seems like I have a lot of titles, but it doesn't actually mean much," Pauli says quietly. "It's more a measure of how much royal blood you have and from which branch of the family than anything else. And I would have told you if I'd remembered, but they don't get pulled out except for really formal occasions, and that's only once or twice a year, and almost ten years ago. I'd thought that they would have been given to Cosetta by now."

"It needs ten years," mutters Edmund, "And then you turned up. Another reason why Cosetta is rather unhappy- she'd do a very good job as chatelaine, but she couldn't until you were declared dead."

"There are papers for that," Locke says, then looks haunted. "Oh, but there are papers for that. Don't even get me started on the paperwork."

"We all try to avoid it," says Edmund.

Carelia comes back, and takes her seat.

"She's in the infirmary," she says, "Grissy's given her an anaesthetic, and something for the pain."

"Um," Pauli says.

"Tjorven broke her jaw, but she went at you with a fish knife, and there have been stranger things to happen at the dinner table," Carelia says calmly. "Did I miss anything?"

"Aunt Victoria ordered that they be let pass without let or hindrance within all Narnian borders," says Edmund, and starts forking up his cod again.

At the top of the table, Pauli sees Alambil put down her glass with exaggerated care.

"And reminded Pauli of all his titles," Locke adds.

"'Reminded'?" Carelia questions, curious.

"It's not exactly the thing you remember when you're fighting for your life on the open sea," Pauli protests.

"I suppose not," Carelia says, "Well, in your case, anyway. The rest of us seem to manage."

"I'm sorry," Pauli says faintly.

Carelia sniffs, and starts eating again.

The rest of the feast is almost an anti-climax.

Afterwards, there's a gathering in one of the big sitting rooms, comfortable and worn, with the evening light filtering in through stained glass windows. Pauli doesn't expect to be invited, but Lucinde grabs his arm and drags him in just as he's trying to extricate himself and Tjorven from the crowd.

Tjorven follows, looking nervous. Inside, Piotr is unpinning Alambil's tiara, and Susanna and Tahmoh are kicking off their shoes. Richard has sat down by the fire, and is looking into it.

Lucinde draws them both down onto an overstuffed couch, then nods at the fire and says, "Tammy, do you still have your pipes?"

"Yes," says Tahmoh, "Not here, though-" her voice trails off as a box appears on the table beside her, old and worn, and she opens it to reveal silk wrapped pipes. She puts them to her mouth, and blows gently, warming them up.

"You didn't take your pipes with you when you ran off, did you?" Cin asks Pauli. To Tjorven, she says, "They were a gift to Queen Lucy from her friend Tumnus the faun, her oldest friend in Narnia, and she passed them to her daughter Tahmoh. Pauli had them afterwards --"

"I left them in 'Setta's room," Pauli says, "She was always better at it-"

Tahmoh blows a scale, then lifts her head, and says, "Any requests?"

"Shalott," Alambil says immediately, from the sofa where she's now got her head in Piotr's lap.

"She never touched them," Lucinde hisses in Pauli's ear. To Tjorven, she says, "Watch the fire."

Tahmoh starts, the lilting notes of Aunt Helen's favourite lullaby, telling of a lady imprisoned in a tower. And the fire starts to move, twisting and coalescing into shapes.

"Salt and Storm," Tjorven breathes, leaning forward to watch, entranced.

Tahmoh segues cleanly from Shalott into The Lay of the High King, and gods, Pauli hasn't heard this in ages, the old stories, the end of the Long Winter.

The Four come first, the High King with Rhindon, Queen Susan with her bow, King Edmund with the Book of Law, Queen Lucy with her cordial. They are about half life size, images in flame.

The fiery figures subdue the White Witch, are crowned at Cair Paravel. The High King gathers his people around him- Admiral Seaworth and General Paolucci, General Greyjoy, Commander Ettore and Commander Fara. The Old Guard pace at their feet.

"Louhanna," Pauli whispers in Tjorven's ear. "The first Head of the Guard. She died protecting the High King in the Caves of Angrisla. There were a lot of others in between her and Sidonie, who's the most famous Head."

Wars, so many that they seem to bleed into each other, until the war against Calormen, which ends with the marriage of the High King and Queen Susan, whose belly is visible.

And then Aunt Helen's naming feast.

The fire shows her as nothing more than a crib festooned with ribbons and rosettes, until the High King takes her out of the cradle and holds her up, presents her to the crowd of Narnians wavering in the fire, and Richard makes a strangled sound.

Aunt Helen waves one small fist, and the High King looks at her as if she is the sun and the stars and all the jewels of the treasury of Narnia, everything he's ever wanted in one tiny package.

Victoria starts crying.

There's a squeak as Tahmoh's breath catches, and the picture wavers, dissipates, before she gets control of herself and goes on to the next section.

Jack and Richard, identical bundles in the same cradle, and Aunt Helen being held up to see them by King Edmund, as the High King presents them, one at a time.

Then there are more wars, and peace, and Queen Susan weeping (though Pauli doesn't know why, and shakes his head when Tjorven asks), and the picture of a happy, golden Narnia.

Aunt Victoria, eventually, held in Queen Susan's arms, and then Aunt Helen, fast as breath, first sick in bed, then watching an execution, then leaning back in Richard's arms, Jack's hand on her knee (at least, Pauli thinks it’s her knee).

"Er," says Alambil, and then almost laughs out loud, half in tears, at her own birth.

Jack picks her up, and the joy on his face is identical to his father's. Richard looks at the three of them, Helen in the bed, him sitting next to her, Jack with the baby, and begins to weep.

Tahmoh starts to stop, but Victoria shakes her head and she goes on.

Eddard is next, born in a blizzard, then Cottia, delivered by a minotaur, then Piotr. And then the abdication, the Ride to Lantern Waste, and Aunt Helen is crying, clinging to the High King, and Pauli cannot imagine her ever doing so, but clearly she did.

The coronation, Narnia singing, and then the song ends and Tahmoh drops the pipes in her lap, shaking with exhaustion. Susanna presses a goblet of wine into her hand.

Pauli, concentration broken, looks around. Alambil has buried her face in Piotr's leg, and Eddard is stroking her hair. Lucinde is curled up, and Tjorven has an arm wrapped around her.

Richard is crying, unashamedly, and Victoria is holding him and crying too.

Pauli goes to hug Lucinde, kissing her forehead, and she shifts so that he can fit in beside her. Over her head, Tjorven looks up at him and breathes, "Magic."

"Narnia," he says back, softly.

"We're interesting that way," says Susanna.

Lucinde raises her head from Tjorven's shoulder to look at her curiously. "You've nothing of the sort in Anskettell?"

Tjorven purses her lips together, looking thoughtful. "There have been stories of windwitches telling stories in the air, but I have never met a wind-witch or a water-wizard, or one of the iron-workers who shapes magic into metal."

Lucinde looks intrigued.

On her sofa, Alambil appears to have fallen asleep.

"They're very rare," Tjorven says. "I've never met one, though the Konungr keeps a wind-witch in Hroskuld. The iron-workers are supposed to dwell far from the sea."

"Aunt Saiet's a water witch," says Lucinde, "but she's the only witch I know. They're rare here too, because of the White Witch.”

"Was she not a weather witch?" Tjorven asks, curious.

"I don't know," Lucinde says, frowning, "She certainly changed the weather, but she turned people to stone as well."

"There's a legend," Pauli says, "about another witch that came from the east, across the sea, and brought a plague to Narnia. She was the one who took the trees from the High Reaches and the Northern Marshes."

"Oh," Tjorven says, thoughtfully, "From beyond the Lone Islands?"

"From the edge of the world, they say. She was the daughter of an exiled star, cast down for sins against the cosmos, and wished to build a ladder."

"How was she defeated?"

"The stories aren't clear on that," Pauli says. "Some people say that she was killed by the third son of the king of Narnia -- this was centuries before the Long Winter, when there was only ever one king in Narnia -- and others say that she was merely cast out. I know that in the Marshes they believed that she returned to Narnia as the White Witch; that's why they didn't bother fighting her, because they knew she couldn't be defeated."

"But the White Witch was."

"The White Witch was," Pauli agrees.

"I'm taking Ala to bed," Eddard says from behind him, picking the still-sleeping woman up.

"I'll go with you," Piotr says, rising.

"Good night, children," Victoria says.

Piotr comes over to kiss Lucinde goodnight- Eddard is carrying Alambil like a sleepy child, and Pauli thinks that she probably weighs about the same- she looks skeletal, and he can't help but remember that she barely ate anything at the feast, slicing her food and sliding it around the plate.

"Night," he says to Pauli and Tjorven, then bids Richard goodnight, and the three of them leave.

Tahmoh picks up her pipes and starts playing again, just shreds of melody that occasionally cause a brief stir in the flames -- Pauli sees a group of dancing fauns, a stag rearing, two unicorns touching muzzles solemnly --but nothing coherent. Lucinde curls against his side and watches the fireplace and murmurs, "Oh, I've missed this. There are smoke-singers in Tashbaan, but it's not the same, and we don't see the good ones anyway, not in the harem."

Pauli tightens his arm around her, because she isn't going back, she isn't. Susanna has moved, and is curled up against Richard's knee, and if he half shuts his eyes, Pauli can almost fool himself, make himself believe that when the door opens it will be Aunt Helen, dragging Uncle Jack out of his surgery, that Iulius is just out of sight.

One of the Guard, a dozen of them sprawled out around the corners of the room, yawns and puts his head down on his paws, eyes drifting shut. Tahmoh has finally found a melody that suits her and is playing, and Pauli turns his head slightly to watch the figures dance in the fire -- fauns, dryads, around a crackling bonfire like midsummer night -- and feels his own eyes drifting shut.

He wakes up hours later, when the sun is coming in the window, Lucinde's head pillowed on his shoulder, and Tjorven's pillowed on hers.

Susanna's gone, but Tahmoh is curled up in an armchair.

"Faun lullabies," he murmurs, and Lucinde raises her head a little.

"Hmm?" she says.

"What Tahmoh was playing earlier," he says, and considers going back to sleep.

"It was so peaceful," Lucinde sighs. "I think that was the first real night of sleep I've gotten since I left Cair Paravel to get married." She shifts a little, experimentally, and sighs again. "Though I think I'm so stiff I can barely move."

"Get up and walk for a bit," he says, heartlessly, and maneuvres himself off the sofa after her. Tjorven stirs, and moves to fill the space they've left.

Uncle Richard is sprawled out on another couch, the lines on his face smoothing out in sleep, and Aunt Victoria is draped in an armchair, snoring softly. Pauli smiles down at them, distracted for a moment before Lucinde catches his hand and tugs him toward the balcony.

The sun is still rising, turning the sea, and the sails of the boats in the harbour, and the stone of the castle, gold and pink and orange, a thousand shades of summer.

"There's nothing like this in the harem," Lucinde says, "No windows looking out, except for those belonging to the Valida, which look out onto the sea, with the rocks below. We get the sun at midday, and it’s so hot, you can hardly breathe for the weight of it."

Pauli can't hide his shudder. "How can you stand it?" he asks. "How can you stand not going over the wall and running off into the desert tearing at your hair?"

"I'd never make it," she says, "Aslan above, Pauli, I'd forgotten what it was like to breathe, to walk without watching every step, to speak without looking to see who else was there, and knowing that whoever is there, I can't say what I really think."

Lucinde grips the rail on the balcony and stares out at the sea, desperate. "Ilsombreh shouldn't have let me out to come to Mama's funeral," she says, "but he does love the Valida, in his own way, and so it was kind of him to do so, but I couldn't leave my cabin the entire voyage and my maids had me so swathed in silk I couldn't see a thing when they finally let me off the ship."

"You're not going back," he breathes into her ear, "I swear, you're not going back."

"My maids are in shock," she says, a little louder, "They went looking for me and were sent to Ala's room, and they could see her collarbones! And men who weren't her father or her brother in her bedroom."

"My gods," Pauli says dryly. "I swear I've seen more of every member of my crew than I'd ever want."

"My maids would have fits," Lucinde says, smiling a little.

"Will they ever recover from visiting Narnia?"

"Probably not," she says, and wrinkles her nose, "One of them had hysterics at the very thought of women leading armies."

"You should show them Aunt Helen's breast plate." She had had several, actually, her usual one, and the ones she wore when pregnant and nursing.

"I'm not sure they'd ever survive the moment, which might be something of a relief, only they'd be replaced with someone even worse. Looking at all the statues and portraits of Grandmama Susan and Great-Aunt Lucy and General Paolucci has been bad enough for them."

"Were any of them the ones in Old Dress, with robes that only cover one breast?"

"That joy has not yet been given them."

"Perhaps you should offer it to them," Pauli suggests, and she smiles again.

"I could. I really could. I'll suggest it later, though we're leaving tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Pauli says, slightly alarmed. He'd thought they'd have at least a week to prepare, and Guery and Carelia and Tombol and their crews have toget accustomed to their new ships; longships aren't very like the usual Narnian ships-of-the-line.

"I could fall ill, I suppose," she says, and bites her lip, "If I say I feel nauseous, or a doctor finds something wrong with me-"

"With a few more days it would be easier," Pauli says.

"The only thing is," Lucinde begins, and hesitates briefly before continuing. "The only thing is they may not listen to me; I shouldn't even have been allowed to come here for Papa Jack's funeral, and they want me back behind the harem walls as soon as possible. Especially with all these strange men about," she adds bitterly. She flicks a finger at his collar. "They'd have fits regarding you, I'm sure."

"And face the wrath of Uncle Richard? If we can get a doctor-"

"Von Belgar," a voice said behind them. It was Tahmoh. "I don't know why you want a doctor, but you want Grissy von Belgar. Papa Jack trained her, and they're saying she's to be appointed Palace Physician."

"Von Belgar?" Pauli repeats, curious. "Isn't that the name of the Belgarine royal family?"

Tahmoh's not listening. "Why do you want a doctor?" she asks her sister, tilting her head to one side.

"I'm not feeling well," Lucinde lies smoothly, and then, at Tahmoh's raised eyebrow, adds, "I want to drag the visit out a little longer."

Tahmoh's face falls. "Weren't you going to stay for a bit, then?" she says plaintively. "You haven't even left the palace at all; I wanted to show you this place I found in Lantern Waste, this little pond with the clearest water you've ever seen."

"I can't," Lucinde says, mouth twisting, "I'm First Wife to the Tisroc, I'm lucky they let me come. I won't be allowed to leave the palace."

"You're a Princess of Narnia," Tahmoh says, mouth widening, and behind her, Pauli sees Richard jerk, and straighten.

"Not to them," Lucinde says bitterly. "And not here, either; I am a representative of the empire of Calormen, and a most honored one. Usually they don't let the wives out of the harem. Ilsombreh is quite modern."

Tahmoh's face is like the sky, every facet of every mood visible, and no wonder, Pauli thinks, that there's no political marriage arranged for her, she'd never be able to deceive for expediency's sake.

"Let's go to Grissy," she says, "Let's go right now-"

"Give her a few hours to get some sleep," Richard says, coming up behind her, and Tahmoh turns.

"Papa, did you hear what Cin just said? You can't let her stay there! Tell the Tisroc --"

"We need the alliance, Tammy," Richard says, and you could never tell that only yesterday he'd sworn up and down that he wouldn't let his daughter go back to the Tisroc's bed. "Lucinde's a strong woman; she has the situation more than in hand."

Tahmoh stares at him, betrayed. "How can you say that?" she demands.

"Matters of State, Tahmoh," says Richard, "You often do things you don't like, for the sake of matters of State."

"You beast," Tahmoh spits, looking like she's about to burst into tears. She catches her sister's hand. "Cin, you can't leave, you just can't. You can stay here, we'll hide you --"

"Tammy, darling, it doesn't work that way," Lucinde tells her gently. "I'm doing it for Narnia. It will be all right." She glances quickly over her shoulder at Pauli.

"But-"

"Tahmoh!" snaps Richard, "Go to your room!"

"But-"

"Now. And if you complain again, you won't see Lucinde until she leaves."

Tahmoh pouts. The Head of Richard's Guard has padded over to investigate- a leopard. Pauli doesn't know her name.

"Majesty?"

"My daughter is overtired, and is going to her bedroom. Accompany her."

"I'm not a child," Tahmoh mutters under her breath, and Uncle Richard pretends not to hear her. The moment she's gone, he leans against the wall and covers his face with his hands.

"Ah, gods," he says. "She's going to make me regret that, I know it."

"I'm sorry," says Lucinde. Richard shakes his head.

"Ah, I'm used to it. Why do you want to see Griselda von Belgar?"

Lucinde explains and Richard swears. "Damn the man," he concludes bitterly. "And damn Papa for not killing off the lot of them; it would have saved us rather a lot of trouble. By all means, go and trouble Griselda, though I do recommend you wait a few hours; she's horrible in the mornings."

"Isn't von Belgar the name of the Royal Family of Belgarine?" Pauli asks.

"Yes, she's the niece of the King, daughter of Prince Oswyn. Ala picked her up in a bar." He pauses, and reconsiders his phrasing. "Ala met her in a bar, and brought her up, and Jack took her as an apprentice."

"What was she doing in a bar in Narnia?"

"Trying to keep her brother the ambassador from getting arrested," Lucinde says, smiling a little in memory. "That part didn't work out nearly as well as she'd hoped, but the rest of it did."

"Eddard threw him out a window," Richard says reminiscently, and then pulls back to the conversation. "Her rooms are next to the surgery. Ask her to say you have cowpox. You didn't get that, and it’s not known in Calormen, so your maids won't have either."

Lucinde looks faintly miserable. "I suppose it was too much to hope for to catch something that wouldn't require me to stay in my bed all day," she says.

"If you're out of bed and wandering around, I think your maids might notice," Richard says, "We'll find you some books."

"Or sneak you out through the walls," Pauli offers. "Make them stay in your sitting room."

Richard shakes his head.

"She might be seen. However, all your siblings can come to see you, because they've all had cowpox."

Lucinde sighs dramatically. "Lace knitting," she decides. "And reading. I need something to do with my hands, at least."

"We'll go as quickly as we can," Pauli promises.

"And cowpox doesn't last for very long," Richard adds, "And the quarantine's only three days."

Pauli winces. "Will it look odd if we start today?" he asks Uncle Richard. "Longships aren't anything like brigs..."

"Not particularly," says Richard, "All Cair Paravel knows that 'Setta went for you last night by now, no one will be surprised if you want to leave."

"And the others?"

"The funeral's over, normal military service is resuming. We can explain it."

Pauli nods. "I'll take them north, I suppose, for training; it's less likely anybody will see."

Richard nods.

"I'll tell Ettore, then send someone down to wake them."

He leaves, and Lucinde catches Pauli's hands in hers, her skin warm and smooth, soft like Tjorven's have never been. "You know you're going to have to hurt me," she murmurs. "On the deck, when you come for me. Otherwise it won't look -- real."

Pauli nods a little, grimly; he's seen firsthand what pirates do to pretty women when they take a ship. Kari had never stood for it, but -

"I forgive you," she says, "in advance," and leans up to kiss his cheek.

Pauli had been turning his head slightly to say something to her, so that Lucinde's mouth brushes his lips instead of his cheek, and he freezes and so does Cin.

Then Tjorven half-snores, and he jumps back.

"That didn't happen," he says urgently.

Lucinde presses the tips of her fingers to her mouth. "Ilsombreh would have had you killed," she says nonsensically, then turns and practically flees.

Pauli stands very still, resisting the urge to do the same, then shakes himself, and goes to wake Tjorven, and tell her that they're leaving soon.

There's breakfast in one of the side rooms, with Guery and Carelia and Tombol and Daneel, and a few other naval officers he doesn't know, yawning over their ham and biscuits, and Pauli and Tjorven join them.

Carelia ignores him, swallowing ham and coffee as fast as she can. Pauli isn't sure if it’s because she's only half awake, or for some other reason.

"This is an unholy hour," Guery informs him grimly, looking awkward in his uniform jacket.

"We were asleep in one of the sitting rooms," Pauli explains, "With the others. There's only so long I can take sleeping on a sofa."

"There are bedrooms in this palace," Guery says. "I know, it's quite a shock given the fact that the Cair produces rooms out of thin air when bored, but there are bedrooms. With beds, even. I was in one just a few minutes ago." He pauses. "Admittedly the person who customarily shares it with me was not there, but bedrooms there are."

"I can remember beds," Tombol says dreamily, pouring orange juice into his coffee, "They're warm. They have Grissy and Carelia in."

"Tahmoh was playing a lullaby," says Pauli, "We sort of- dropped off."

"One of those lullabies?" Daneel says, too asleep for her customary chirpiness. "Those are dangerous. I'm surprised the whole palace didn't drop off."

"Door was shut," Pauli says, and shrugs, "Ah, I gave my pipes to 'Setta. Cin says she never used them-"

"Cosetta broke them," Guery says. "Threw them in the fire. Cressida threw a fit."

"Oh," Pauli says, and put the roll he was buttering down. His pipes, burnt. A relic of Old Narnia, destroyed.

No wonder Aunt Cressida went mad.

"Speaking of 'Setta," Carelia says, "I'm going down with some coffee for Grissy. What do you think the chances are that, in the event 'Setta's awake, Grissy will let her have some?"

"Very low," says Tombol, takes a sip of his own coffee, and gags.

"That," Guery says, looking at him, "is why you don't miss orange juice and coffee." He pauses. "Unless you're Naveen Ayme, and thus insane."

One of the junior lieutenants at the far end of the table raises his head at the sound of his name.

"The Captain was just saying you're crazy," Carelia explains, and he shrugs philosophically and goes back to eating. Carelia picks up two mugs of coffee, and leaves.

Tombol gets up, pours his coffee out, and gets a new cup. "Where are we going?" he asks Pauli, inhaling deeply.

"Up the coast a few miles for practice," Pauli tells him, wary; these are all experienced naval officers, and they might take the idea they have to practice amiss.

Tombol doesn't, though, just nods and gulps down his new coffee. Next to Pauli, Tjorven is looking around, bright eyed and interested.

"Always wanted to try a longship," Guery says to no one in particular, and inhales an entire muffin in two bites.

There is a clatter of bootheels, and Admiral Ettore enters, the tails of her uniform coat flapping behind her.

"You're going to get the chance," she growls.

She nods to Pauli shortly. "Last night they pulled the Quickkill and the Serpent-Breath out of drydock and made the shipwrights give them a look over; they're in good condition considering the last time they were sailed the High King sat the throne. Wasp-Sting's meeting you up the coast."

She glares at the room at large. "I'm for the Lone Islands with Governor Paolucci, but don't think that means you're going to be slacking! You're under Commodore Martell’s command until I get back."

"Oh, Tethys," murmurs a very junior ensign into her coffee. "Make-No-Peace Martell."

"I did not," Ettore says, leaning against the table and smiling toothily, "Just hear you refer to a superior officer in a way that could be considered disrespectful."

The ensign gulps.

"And you're with me anyway, so it’s not something you have to worry about. We are conveying Governor Paolucci to the Lone Islands, along with Princess Alambil, who is apparently in need of a rest. I hope you like sheep."

She snaps her fingers and points to Pauli. "The Aerial Corps has gracefully ceded their training harbor for you by Blacksands; the ships are waiting for you there for some reason I won't ask. Crews went up with them; you officers are going with Captain Pevensie."

There are scattered nods. "Ship lists will be up before lunch," she adds, and leaves.

"That was bracing," mutters Daneel.

She downs an entire mug of coffee in one gulp, then makes a face. "Longships can't be that bad, can she?" she appeals to Pauli. "Not so very different from a brig or a sloop."

"Very different," Pauli says heartlessly, because if you are a pessimist, you are always pleasantly surprised, and occasionally overprepared.

Tjorven makes a face. "Ships-of-the-line are far too big, with too many people, and far too slow."

"Possibly," Guery says, "but our scorpion crews can fire five bolts a minute."

"Which is very little use if you can't keep up with what you're shooting".

Guery and Tombol both look insulted. "We have the fastest ships and best-trained crews in the Eastern Ocean," Tombol says. "We can sail circles around anyone else, especially anyone stupid enough to come up against the Narnian Navy."

Pauli springs in before Tjorven can retort. "Longships are hit and run sailors," he says, "not stand up and fight sailors, like most ships-of-the-land."

Tjorven sniffs. "You shall see if you still think your ships are fast after sailing longships."

"We shall see," Guery says darkly, and goes back to eating.

Pauli and Tjorven leave a little while later to go down to the Seven Sisters and oversee the resupply process, since Pauli has figured that after retrieving Lucinde, it would probably be best to avoid land as much as possible until they make it into the far eastern islands, where Calormen's nothing more than a mild annoyance. From Lycoris, it should be about six weeks sail to Vandalin, where they should be able to pick up a sellsail job.

"Free captain" doesn't mean "pirate", after all. Pauli's done his fair share of piracy, but the time he's spent under the black flag is about even with the time he's spent earning someone else's money; there's always convoy work, protecting merchant ships on the shipping lanes, or even pirate hunting, which is nearly the same thing as piracy except legitimate.

He takes one look at the prices given to Arnsten, and swears. They're being overcharged, probably on the basis of being Ansketts.

When the merchant arrives, rubbing his hands and ready to explain why prices are so ridiculously high, Pauli introduces himself as Pauli Pevensie, Duke of Yrongard, and watches him wilt, then backtrack very quickly indeed.

They're in the midst of bargaining -- prices down by half, but still overcharged -- when Val wanders up and throws an arm over Pauli's shoulders.

"Abusing your power and our good name, coz?" he asks while the merchant stops his dickering to gape.

"Not a bit," Pauli retorts, and the merchant hurriedly halves the prices again.

"I have the feeling," Pauli says, and possibly now he's just being cruel, though he doesn't particularly care, "that Great-Uncle Peter never had this problem when he was outfitting the navy to go conquer Terebinthia."

"Possibly not," Val says. "Although I've seen your grandmother Fiorenza's handwriting on pay stubs and supply lists, so perhaps it just runs in the family."

The merchant gulps, and quarters the prices. Val squeezes Pauli's arm gently, and he agrees to it, and arranges for the goods to be delivered straight to the ship. The merchant doesn't quibble, just scurries away.

"You are an evil man, Pauli Pevensie," Val tells Pauli solemnly.

"Perhaps somewhat surprisingly, I dislike being overcharged," Pauli says. "I think it's good to use all the advantages the gods give us, don't you?"

"Oh yes," Val agrees, "And I do, all the time."

They walk back down to the docks, together, in comfortable silence. Tjorven is already down there, checking ropes and weaponry.

Val tips his head back and looks thoughtfully at the Seven Sisters. "Nothing near as impressive as an aerial carrier or a first class ship-of-the-line -- even a second or third class -- but lovely lines, all the same," he says. "Shallow draft?"

"We beach them during winter if we're in Anskettell," Pauli says.

Val nods. "You can't have much of a crew with something that small," he says. "Not over a hundred, surely?"

"Sixty-four, counting the ship's cats."

"Sixty-five," says a voice from behind them, and they both turn to see Meklet loping along the docks.

"I'm coming with you," he adds as he reaches them, "I swore my oaths to the Royal Family in general, and you in particular, and I've never been released. Besides, you can't take care of yourself."

"I can!" Pauli protests.

"That's desertion," Val says mildly. "You're a sworn member of the Royal Guard."

"I'm sworn to Lord Pauli," Meklet points out, "And I'm following him."

"Desertion," Val says, voice idle, "is considered to be treason, which is punishable by death."

"Meklet, stay," Pauli says.

"Unless of course you received special dispensation from the Head of the Guard," Val goes on.

"Which I did," Meklet says smugly, "And his Majesty."

Val snaps his fingers and holds out his hand.

Meklet sighs and mouths awkwardly at the carrying collar he's wearing, producing a long thin scroll tied up with a red ribbon.

Pauli reads it over Val's shoulder- written permission from Dendera, the Head of Helen's Guard- and what, he wonders, does she do now, with her charge dead and entombed- and from Richard for Meklet to go with him.

"But," he says weakly, and Meklet glares at him.

"It's all in order," Val says. "You can find something for an overgrown pussycat to do on your boat, can't you?"

"We can think of something," Tjorven says from the deck, and Meklet smiles up at her.

"Hallo, Milady, I don't think we were introduced before. I'm Meklet, and I was his Guard, before he disappeared and sent the entire castle into hysterics for two months."

Pauli winces. "It was just a letter," he protests.

"A short and uninformative one," Meklet says, and frowns at him.

"What else was I supposed to say?" Pauli protests.

Meklet sniffs, as if it should be obvious.

"You shouldn't have left," Val says, as slowly as if he's speaking to a child.

Pauli can feel a flush starting in his cheeks.

"Well, I did, and it was ten years ago, so can we talk about something else?"

"Of course," Val says, and jabs a finger into his collarbone, hard enough that it hurts. "Bring Cin back in one piece or I'll hunt you down and break your neck myself."

Meklet at least has the discretion not to ask, just scrambles onboard at Tjorven's nod.

"If anything happens to her," Pauli says, perfectly honest, "I'll throw myself off the side of the Seven Sisters."

Val looks him in the eyes, and then nods.

"Take care," he says, and embraces him, kissing him on both cheeks.

Pauli hugs him back, hard and painful, the goodbye he never got to give the first time he left lingering on his tongue -- he'd gone around that last day trying to decide if he should even bother, and then too afraid someone might sense something amiss that he hadn't even tried, in the end.

"I will," he says in the end, into the bullion of Val's coat shoulder, "I will."

"And come back," Val says, voice wavering. "Damn you, come back."

"I will," Pauli promises, because he must, if only to bring Lucinde back, once the danger is past.

Val steps back, his face set, and over his shoulder Pauli sees Alambil leading the naval officers down the docks like a herd of somewhat distressed horses.

The officers board at Pauli's nod, and Alambil watches them, then turns to Pauli and hugs him so hard that he can't breathe.

"Don't die," she whispers, "Don't you dare die. I will be forced to do horrible things to your corpse. Or find a witch to raise you, which would deplete the Treasury no end."

She pauses, thoughtfully. "And don't do anything stupid, either."

"I won't do anything you wouldn't do," he promises, and she snorts.

"I do many things that I wouldn't advise you to do," she says, "But I suppose that will suffice."

Behind her, Richard, Victoria, Cal, and Susanna make their way down the docks; Susanna manages up a tremulous smile when she manages to catch his eye.

Richard catches him in a fierce embrace, one that nearly lifts Pauli off his feet.

"I'll come back," he promises, "I'll come and see you," and Richard nods, jerkily, and holds on for dear life.

"Bring my daughter home," he whispers in Pauli's ear. "Bring yourself home."

"I'll try," Pauli promises, and then Richard releases him, and he turns to Victoria.

"Take care of yourself," she says, and kisses him on both cheeks.

"You too, Aunt Victoria," he tells her, and she smiles at him and produces a thin scroll of paper seemingly from mid-air. "What's this?"

"Something of a going away present from myself and your uncle," she says.

Pauli slides the ribbon off and unrolls it, reading in growing disbelief. "This is a letter of marque," he says.

"We're not actually at war with anyone," Richard says, "so try not to use it unless you must, but I dare say we can muster a suitable argument to why a peer of Narnia shouldn't be hung like a common pirate."

"Thank you," Pauli says, and hugs Victoria. He forgets, he always forgets, that she was fourteen years younger than Aunt Helen, twelve years younger than his Uncles. She's not even forty-five, and the thought seems odd. She hugs him back, and then steps away for Cal.

Cal pulls him into a rough, graceless hug. "I was going to tell you not to anything stupid," he says, "but then I remembered who your parents were."

There's no sting in the words, no reproach, and Pauli hugs him back tightly. "Who's the Shoushani god of the sea?" he asks.

Cal laughs, surprised. "There isn't one," he says. "Shoushan's landlocked."

"Oh," Pauli says, "Well, pray for me anyhow?"

"I never stopped," Cal assures him.

He smiles a little. "Zaid of the Long Road must have to use a ferry now and then, surely," he says, "and Puca Dolios the Trickster has seemed fitting enough for you this far."

Cal steps away, and Susanna flings herself at Pauli. "Don't leave," she begs. "Pauli, don't leave."

"I'm sorry, 'Sanna," he says gently, and hugs her. A wind is coming up, and strands of her long dark hair are whipping across his face. He's barely seen her since they got back- she's spent a lot of time in bed, recovering from seasickness.

"You could stay," she says fiercely. "I know you don't think so, Pauli, but you could, you really could. Please."

"I'm sorry," Pauli says again, and she lets out a moan and clings to him harder. Over her head, he sees Marcellus approaching down the docks.

"Please," she says again, and Richard sighs, and steps forward.

"Sweetheart."

"But he can! Papa, tell him he can!"

"I have," he says, and gently pries her away.

"I'll come back," Pauli says. "I will, I promise."

Susanna slumps in her father's arms. "That's not good enough," she says fiercely.

"I'm sorry," he says, and turns to Marcellus, who steps forward to hug him as well.

"You didn't seriously mean to sneak off again, did you?" he whispers in Pauli's ear.

"No," Pauli whispers back, "I told Uncle Richard, and then went to buy supplies. You all had plenty of time to find me."

Marcellus thumps him.

"Well, you're here, aren't you?" Pauli says to him. "I can't really sneak off with a king and queen of Narnia, two princes, a princess, and the governor of the Lone Islands here, can I?"

"No," Marcellus admits, and hugs him even tighter, "Don't die."

There is the click of hooves, and the gathering crowd parts to reveal Piotr and Eddard, both on horseback, dressed in formal regalia.

"Going over to Arn Abedin," Eddard says as he dismounts, Piotr following his lead. Two small fauns scamper forward to grab the reins, and Piotr throws them each a moon.

Marcellus steps back so Eddard can pull Pauli into a rough hug. "Sure I can't make you stay?" he asks loudly. "You'd give the Navy something to think about, for sure."

"Sorry," Pauli says, and slaps him on the back. Eddard releases him, and he turns to Piotr, who looks at the line of his cloak, sighs, and hugs him.

"Don't die," he drawls, "It would cause immense legal problems, quite aside from the grief some members of the family might feel."

"Well, I'd hate to make you have to deal with lawyers," Pauli says, hugging him back.

And then Tahmoh runs down the docks shouting, "Don't you dare sneak off again, Pauli Pevensie!" at the top of her lungs.

She throws himself at him, and he catches her and swings her around, as he did the day before he left, for no reason but that it was summer and she wanted him to.

"Even if I was trying to, I feel that would have died a death when Val found me. And Ala. And Uncle Richard and Aunt Victoria," he says, sets her down, and kisses the tip of her nose.

"Take me with you," Tahmoh orders firmly.

"No," Pauli says immediately, and she pouts.

"I heard that, Tahmoh!" Uncle Richard calls.

"I'm not speaking to you!" she declares. "Not after what you said to Cin."

"Tammy," Piotr says strictly.

She ignores him.

"Please, Pauli?"

"No. And that is my final answer."

He steps back.

Her lower lip trembles, in just the way that always used to get her extra pudding at supper and cajoled the Guard into letting her out at night to go wander the halls of Cair Paravel by candlelight.

"Please?" she says again. "I can use a bow and a sword and I know how to tie knots and climb rigging --"

"No," he says, and she scowls. Youngest daughter, darling girl, youngest child after Iulius's death, he would guess that 'No' has not been a word she's heard often.

"Come here, darling," Victoria says.

Tahmoh scowls. "I want to have adventures," she declares.

"When you're older," Victoria says sedately, and wraps an arm around her waist.

"Perhaps adventures that won't get you hung if you get caught," Piotr mutters. He looks up at Pauli. "Cin wanted to say goodbye, but she appears to have contracted cowpox somehow and has been confined to her bed."

"Tell her I'm sorry, and that I hope she gets better soon," Pauli says, and looks around. "Is anyone else going to come bursting down?"

"Probably not," Piotr says, and Pauli shrugs, and boards the Seven Sisters.

Tahmoh waves at him from the docks, looking abandoned, and Val cups his hands together and shouts, "Don't you dare let Guery get hurt! I've only just managed to get him trained up the way I like!"

For a moment, Pauli can't think what Val means, then he realises, and his brain seizes up.

Alambil smacks Val on the arm. "Don't break him!"

"Too late," Pauli yells back. All around the ship, sailors are preparing to cast off -- pulling up the gangplank, undoing the ropes that bind the Seven Sisters to the dock, raising the anchor.

"Be careful," calls Susanna.

"Of course!"

And then they're moving.

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