Big Bang Fic: The Red Leather Trousers Escapade (7/17)
Title: The Red Leather Trousers Escapade (7/17)
Author: wingedflight21
Rating: K+
Word Count: ~24K
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia do not, never have, and most likely never will belong to me.
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Occurs in an AU of The Silver Chair.
Author's Notes: A huge thanks to snitchnipped, rthstewart, and especially accidentalsquid as well as anyone else who helped me through these last few months and numerous chapters.
Summary: An assassination attempt gone wrong sends Jill and Eustace off to solve the mystery behind the attacks, all while playing dead. SCAUverse.
-X-
Chapter Six
-X-
Jill was beginning to wonder if she should find an alternate solution to her problem in the case that Setev did not return. There was no sign of the mongoose in the Puwaili gardens, of which she had an excellent view. She had already noted during their stay that Haluans had a very lax sense of security; while the wall was a deterrent, there was little in the way of guards and no one had noticed her in all the time she had been spying from her tree.
On the other hand, it wasn’t as though she was able to see much of importance. Ambassador Glozelle was deep in conversation with a woman that Jill was able to identify as Akili Lanuka. Jill couldn’t remember much about the woman besides the fact that she sat on the Akinua’s council and had spoken at length about opposing Calormene control. That, and she had a particularly annoying habit of folding her hands together while tapping the index fingers at length. A closer inspection revealed Lanuka to be doing the action even now, and Jill rolled her eyes in irritation and glanced away.
Further off, two members of the Narnian delegation were strolling along the paths. Villarus, a satryr Jill had known for many years, had a band of black cloth bound around his upper arm in a symbol of mourning. His companion, Frind, was a man originally from Lantern Waste. He’d gone so far as to cut his hair short in a tradition practised by many Western families for when a loved one had deceased. It was touching to think that she and Eustace had meant so much to the two of them - and still did, she reminded herself.
That was when the commotion began. It started with a goose in the back corner, which was not a big deal; that same goose had squawked at every passerby that had the mischance of coming too near her nest. But this time, the noise carried on to a trio of serving girls who dropped their trays in unison; then Ambassador Glozelle turned about to stare at something as it passed by; and then Jill finally saw the streak of golden-red fur and large, bushy tail. She risked learning further over her branch in the hopes that she could see closer despite the speed at which the creature was moving. Strange, but for a moment she could swear it was a squirrel with a book in its mouth as it headed towards the wall -
That was the point at which she put the pieces together.
When Setev made it over the wall and up her tree a minute later, she had a rather unimpressed look on her face. “When I told you to stay hidden, I was hoping you would not actually bound across the garden in full sight of everyone.”
Even though she knew to look for the familiar mongoose shape, there was still a part of Jill’s mind that was insisting that the animal before her was a squirrel. The amount of concentration needed to ignore the illusion was giving her a headache; Jill reached forward and accepted the book before unwrapping the chain from Setev’s neck. The moment she lifted it from him, the squirrel illusion had gone and all that was left was a beaming mongoose.
“I was going to stay hidden - I was, I was,” he insisted, “But the goose spotted me and thought me a squirrel so I went the other way and then everyone was shouting that I was a squirrel and it was too good to be true that my true species had finally been revealed!”
Jill smiled fondly and neglected to explain the magical disguising qualities of the bronze chain. Instead, she congratulated him on his big moment while slipping the chain and book into her tunic.
“Thank you,” she said when she was finally ready to descend once more, “for services most wonderfully performed.”
“Are you leaving to join the dead?” Setev asked curiously.
“Leaving, yes. But I’m going to find proof so I no longer have to play dead.”
-X-
She found the inn easily enough. She’d been the one who had seen it several days before when on a tour of the city, and had given Eustace directions to find it. She only hoped that he hadn’t gotten lost.
The barkeep barely looked up when she walked in. The room itself was crowded with men and women, a majority of whom appeared to be sailors and plenty who already stunk of alcohol. She had to dodge drunken hands as she weaved through the tables on her unsuccessful search for Eustace.
Eventually, she made her way to the bar where the barkeep was serving a scowling, tattooed man. “Excuse me,” she called, and then, louder over the noise, “Excuse me!”
“So what’ll it be?”
She shook her head and asked, “I believe my friend got a room here - I was supposed to meet him. Ranell - I believe he left a message that -”
“Ah, so he missed you, then.”
“Pardon?”
“Your man. He must’ve got tired of waiting.”
Jill’s heart skipped a beat. “Did you see which way he went? Or did he leave another message?”
“What do I look like, a message board?” The man grunted and scowled before seeing something in her face. “He did go out when that rabble was in the streets.”
“Rabble?”
“Trouble,” the barkeep grunted again.
“Terrorists,” the tattooed man hissed in her ear. Jill flinched at the close proximity and stepped away. Cautiously, she placed a hand to her side, where the Gifts were still secreted beneath her tunic - both were still there, but it worried her to carry them around. Yet, she did not trust the inn enough to leave book or chain in the room.
“If he’s in with that crowd, you’ll want to find him before he gets into trouble,” the barkeep advised. Jill nodded anxiously, the tattooed man’s warning echoing in her mind as she left.
-X-
The trail led looping through the streets, a mess of broken crockery and harsh words of criticism. There were few that had pleasant words to say about the group of young men and women that Eustace appeared to have gotten into - the mildest comment was that “young folk are always looking for trouble nowadays” while others tended to lean to the same opinion as the tattooed man at the tavern. “Terrorists,” growled a burley sailor outside another pub, “Looking to cause political trouble any way possible. That business with the fire, now.”
“They didn’t - you didn’t see - was there a young man with sandy hair and a face like - like - roundish. With freckles. And squinty eyes.”
The man shook his head slowly as though to rid it of the drink. Then, his face brightened. “Oh, you mean the chap with the red trousers, don’t you? Odd fashion statement, that.”
“Yes, well,” she said. As horrendous as the red leather trousers might have appeared, they were providing an excellent trail to follow.
Directions led to an old pub on the opposite side of the harbour where the lighting was dim and the music of the taverns was much louder. She could hear the discordant strains of drunken song from a long way off, and nervously stuck to the shadows in the hopes of avoiding the sight of any unsavoury characters.
She cracked the door and peered inside. The singing was even louder in here, almost to the point of becoming painful to her ears. Jill tried unsuccessfully to ignore it while making her way through the throng to the bar.
“Drink fer ye?” the barkeep asked when he came around a minute later. She was still standing - all the chairs had been taken up - with her back to the bar while scanning the room. “I’m fine,” she shouted, “but if I might ask - you haven’t seen a man in red leather trousers, have you?”
The man’s mouth opened wide and he tipped his head back to laugh heartily. “Aye,” he said when he’d stopped shaking, “Aye, just over there.”
Jill followed his pointed finger and saw, in the far back of the room, the scruff of sandy-coloured hair. “Thank Aslan,” she muttered, and began threading her way through the crowd.
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Epilogue|
Author: wingedflight21
Rating: K+
Word Count: ~24K
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia do not, never have, and most likely never will belong to me.
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Occurs in an AU of The Silver Chair.
Author's Notes: A huge thanks to snitchnipped, rthstewart, and especially accidentalsquid as well as anyone else who helped me through these last few months and numerous chapters.
Summary: An assassination attempt gone wrong sends Jill and Eustace off to solve the mystery behind the attacks, all while playing dead. SCAUverse.
-X-
Chapter Six
-X-
Jill was beginning to wonder if she should find an alternate solution to her problem in the case that Setev did not return. There was no sign of the mongoose in the Puwaili gardens, of which she had an excellent view. She had already noted during their stay that Haluans had a very lax sense of security; while the wall was a deterrent, there was little in the way of guards and no one had noticed her in all the time she had been spying from her tree.
On the other hand, it wasn’t as though she was able to see much of importance. Ambassador Glozelle was deep in conversation with a woman that Jill was able to identify as Akili Lanuka. Jill couldn’t remember much about the woman besides the fact that she sat on the Akinua’s council and had spoken at length about opposing Calormene control. That, and she had a particularly annoying habit of folding her hands together while tapping the index fingers at length. A closer inspection revealed Lanuka to be doing the action even now, and Jill rolled her eyes in irritation and glanced away.
Further off, two members of the Narnian delegation were strolling along the paths. Villarus, a satryr Jill had known for many years, had a band of black cloth bound around his upper arm in a symbol of mourning. His companion, Frind, was a man originally from Lantern Waste. He’d gone so far as to cut his hair short in a tradition practised by many Western families for when a loved one had deceased. It was touching to think that she and Eustace had meant so much to the two of them - and still did, she reminded herself.
That was when the commotion began. It started with a goose in the back corner, which was not a big deal; that same goose had squawked at every passerby that had the mischance of coming too near her nest. But this time, the noise carried on to a trio of serving girls who dropped their trays in unison; then Ambassador Glozelle turned about to stare at something as it passed by; and then Jill finally saw the streak of golden-red fur and large, bushy tail. She risked learning further over her branch in the hopes that she could see closer despite the speed at which the creature was moving. Strange, but for a moment she could swear it was a squirrel with a book in its mouth as it headed towards the wall -
That was the point at which she put the pieces together.
When Setev made it over the wall and up her tree a minute later, she had a rather unimpressed look on her face. “When I told you to stay hidden, I was hoping you would not actually bound across the garden in full sight of everyone.”
Even though she knew to look for the familiar mongoose shape, there was still a part of Jill’s mind that was insisting that the animal before her was a squirrel. The amount of concentration needed to ignore the illusion was giving her a headache; Jill reached forward and accepted the book before unwrapping the chain from Setev’s neck. The moment she lifted it from him, the squirrel illusion had gone and all that was left was a beaming mongoose.
“I was going to stay hidden - I was, I was,” he insisted, “But the goose spotted me and thought me a squirrel so I went the other way and then everyone was shouting that I was a squirrel and it was too good to be true that my true species had finally been revealed!”
Jill smiled fondly and neglected to explain the magical disguising qualities of the bronze chain. Instead, she congratulated him on his big moment while slipping the chain and book into her tunic.
“Thank you,” she said when she was finally ready to descend once more, “for services most wonderfully performed.”
“Are you leaving to join the dead?” Setev asked curiously.
“Leaving, yes. But I’m going to find proof so I no longer have to play dead.”
-X-
She found the inn easily enough. She’d been the one who had seen it several days before when on a tour of the city, and had given Eustace directions to find it. She only hoped that he hadn’t gotten lost.
The barkeep barely looked up when she walked in. The room itself was crowded with men and women, a majority of whom appeared to be sailors and plenty who already stunk of alcohol. She had to dodge drunken hands as she weaved through the tables on her unsuccessful search for Eustace.
Eventually, she made her way to the bar where the barkeep was serving a scowling, tattooed man. “Excuse me,” she called, and then, louder over the noise, “Excuse me!”
“So what’ll it be?”
She shook her head and asked, “I believe my friend got a room here - I was supposed to meet him. Ranell - I believe he left a message that -”
“Ah, so he missed you, then.”
“Pardon?”
“Your man. He must’ve got tired of waiting.”
Jill’s heart skipped a beat. “Did you see which way he went? Or did he leave another message?”
“What do I look like, a message board?” The man grunted and scowled before seeing something in her face. “He did go out when that rabble was in the streets.”
“Rabble?”
“Trouble,” the barkeep grunted again.
“Terrorists,” the tattooed man hissed in her ear. Jill flinched at the close proximity and stepped away. Cautiously, she placed a hand to her side, where the Gifts were still secreted beneath her tunic - both were still there, but it worried her to carry them around. Yet, she did not trust the inn enough to leave book or chain in the room.
“If he’s in with that crowd, you’ll want to find him before he gets into trouble,” the barkeep advised. Jill nodded anxiously, the tattooed man’s warning echoing in her mind as she left.
-X-
The trail led looping through the streets, a mess of broken crockery and harsh words of criticism. There were few that had pleasant words to say about the group of young men and women that Eustace appeared to have gotten into - the mildest comment was that “young folk are always looking for trouble nowadays” while others tended to lean to the same opinion as the tattooed man at the tavern. “Terrorists,” growled a burley sailor outside another pub, “Looking to cause political trouble any way possible. That business with the fire, now.”
“They didn’t - you didn’t see - was there a young man with sandy hair and a face like - like - roundish. With freckles. And squinty eyes.”
The man shook his head slowly as though to rid it of the drink. Then, his face brightened. “Oh, you mean the chap with the red trousers, don’t you? Odd fashion statement, that.”
“Yes, well,” she said. As horrendous as the red leather trousers might have appeared, they were providing an excellent trail to follow.
Directions led to an old pub on the opposite side of the harbour where the lighting was dim and the music of the taverns was much louder. She could hear the discordant strains of drunken song from a long way off, and nervously stuck to the shadows in the hopes of avoiding the sight of any unsavoury characters.
She cracked the door and peered inside. The singing was even louder in here, almost to the point of becoming painful to her ears. Jill tried unsuccessfully to ignore it while making her way through the throng to the bar.
“Drink fer ye?” the barkeep asked when he came around a minute later. She was still standing - all the chairs had been taken up - with her back to the bar while scanning the room. “I’m fine,” she shouted, “but if I might ask - you haven’t seen a man in red leather trousers, have you?”
The man’s mouth opened wide and he tipped his head back to laugh heartily. “Aye,” he said when he’d stopped shaking, “Aye, just over there.”
Jill followed his pointed finger and saw, in the far back of the room, the scruff of sandy-coloured hair. “Thank Aslan,” she muttered, and began threading her way through the crowd.
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Epilogue|