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The Lion, the Snake, and the Safe Room
Chapter 3: Arrival
By Anne B. Walsh
In the great hall of Cair Paravel, a man paced the floor, running his hands through his long, dark hair. “I mislike letting them walk the countryside unguarded and unwatched,” he said. “As though Narnia had no enemy to be found for a hundred leagues, rather than one who sits in her very lap.”
The woman sitting on the dais raised her eyes from the large, clear crystal she held in her hands. “Peace, brother,” she said. “They are hardly unguarded, with all the Birds crying their names and every Animal flocking to their path. And how unwatched, when I see them myself, this very moment?”
“Our enemy is clever, sister,” the man said, coming to her side. “He may have found a way to show you what is not, and we know he has subverted those of our camp before.”
“But not all at once,” the woman replied. “If he had the power needed to subvert or stop every creature which sees them, every Rabbit and Mouse and Tree, and disrupt my crystal-gazing, all at the same time, he would have used it by now to overthrow us, and to greet these our successors at the palace with arrows and steel, and his own wicked venom. Some of his creatures may watch them come—let them. He should know who comes here, and why.”
“He does know. Or have you forgot so soon what your crystal told you yesternight?”
“I have not forgot it.” The woman stroked one of the edges of the crystal. “Rather do I discount it at this moment.”
“Discount it?” It was almost a howl. “Lion and Knife, why?”
The woman winced. “Gilles, please, calm yourself. You are hurting my ears, and Caelin would never forgive me if I allowed her husband to roar himself into Aslan’s country before his time.”
King Gilles of Narnia lowered his voice, but the intensity of it was still present. “My question remains, Ilana. You have seen that one of the Princes who comes this way has spoken with the White Wizard, that the Prince may have taken the Wizard’s marking and be doing his bidding at this very moment—why, in the Lion’s name, would you discount it?”
High Queen Ilana smiled. “Because, my dearest and most foolish brother in royalty, that same Lion you name so casually has himself spoken to me, only this morn, and he bade me do as Ardan and I have set in train to do. We will welcome our successors as the royal Princes and Princesses which they are, and make no distinctions among them but those they force us to make. Here they will be judged by their skills and their merits, and by how well and readily they take to training in those skills they have not.”
The King’s face cleared. “I see. I believe that I see. I will train the young Princes in weaponry, then?”
“It is your finest skill, and the only reason we tolerate you here,” the High Queen teased. “And Caelin has said she will teach the Princesses what they must know of war and fighting. Nor will they be alone in their training, if sobeit you agree now as you did last month...”
“Last month? Ah, I have it—when our lady cook petitioned us that her youngest children be trained in all things martial.” The King frowned. “You would have me teach them myself? I do not begrudge the time, but will it not slow the Princes’ training?”
Ilana shook her head. “I believe it will put them on their mettle. As well as giving us a clearer view of those four who will follow us onto these thrones.”
“Indeed. For a man is best judged by how he treats those who seem inferior.”
The High Queen’s smile grew. “My brother has some wisdom after all.”
“I hide it well, do I not?”
The young royalty of Narnia, unaware that they were being watched, reached the Silver Spring shortly after noon and dropped to the grass thankfully, loosening collars and easing off shoes.
Harry caught his breath and looked around. The sun, high overhead, shone down on a grassy clearing in the woods. In its center sat a deep pool of water, rippling gently in the middle where the spring fed it from beneath. The gurgle of the outflowing Silver Stream was audible from where they sat.
“I had no idea I was so out of shape,” Hermione said, holding a hand to her side. “If I can’t walk for even one morning without hurting all over like this...”
“Wait!” Meghan cried as Malfoy started to stick a foot in the water. “We have to ask first.”
“Ask? Ask who?”
Meghan swished her hand through the water. “Naiad,” she called. “Naiad, where are you?”
A small hump developed in the center of the pond’s ripples, as if a fountain had just been turned on there. Like a fountain, the hump grew larger and larger—but there was a form here, it was no longer just an arch of flowing water—
“What would my Princess?” asked the naiad of the Silver Spring, raising her arms to wipe her streaming, silvery hair away from her face.
“May we use your pool?” Meghan asked politely. “To drink, and cool off?”
The naiad glided towards them without any visible means of support. “A gift for a gift is only fair,” she said, smiling at them. “I am Nata.”
“Meghan. And Harry, and Hermione, and Draco.”
Nata reached the shore and stood up, proving that she had legs and feet, though there was a suggestion of fins on both feet and hands. “My pool is at the Highnesses’ disposal,” she said, curtseying gracefully.
Malfoy rolled his eyes and stuck his feet in the water. Hermione pointedly moved upstream of him and lowered her canteen into the pool, filling it about halfway. “Funny how the water we had lasted us just to here,” she said, and took a sip. A look of faint surprise crossed her face, and her eyes were suddenly far away, as though she were thinking deep thoughts.
“Isn’t it good?” Harry asked.
“What?” said Hermione distractedly.
“The water. Is there something wrong with it?”
“There is nothing amiss with my water,” said Nata, looking down her nose at Harry. “Why would my Prince suggest such a thing?”
“I didn’t... look, I wasn’t... I’m sorry, but Hermione made a face when she tasted it, and I thought maybe she didn’t like it.”
“I’m sure it’s good water,” said Meghan quickly, as Nata’s brows drew in threateningly. “Hermione, can I have some?”
Hermione held out the canteen absently. Meghan crossed to her side, giving Harry the evil eye as she came. “You never insult a naiad’s water!” she hissed. “She could drown us all—well, maybe not, but she could hold the boat back so that we get to Cair Paravel in a week instead of a day, or get our clothes so wet they never dry out! I’m going to drink some, and I think you should too. As an apology.”
Harry looked around to see Hermione, now stretching and yawning as if she’d just woken up. “All right?” he asked her.
“All right. Should I not be?”
“You were acting odd for a moment there.”
“How is that different than what I usually do?”
“Odder than usual.”
Hermione smiled. “I’m fine, Harry. And it is good water. It just had a taste I didn’t expect. A Narnian taste. I liked it.”
Nata preened herself a little.
Harry heard a faint noise from Malfoy’s direction and leaned around Meghan. “Something for you?” he asked the other boy.
Malfoy was reclining by the side of the pool, dangling his feet in the water. “No, nothing at all.”
“Want a drink?”
“I’m not thirsty, thanks.”
Nata bristled once more.
“Don’t worry, we’ll drink it,” said Meghan hastily. “We’re sure it’ll be marvelous.”
Harry held out his canteen, and Meghan poured some of Hermione’s water into it. “Cheers,” he said. They toasted Nata and each other, then drank together.
A sense of peace and comfort enveloped Harry. He thought of the Imperius curse and almost panicked, but another second’s thought showed him the difference. The comfort of the Imperius was lying and suffocating, locking him away and forcing him to do another’s will. Here, another will was touching his, another presence was real within his mind, but it would force him to nothing, though it had clear wishes and desires of its own.
And it was making those desires clear to him. He saw the plan for Narnia, and the part that the presence hoped he would play. He saw himself as he might be if he did well, triumphant and joyful and ready to be a King.
And then the presence looked at him directly, and Harry squirmed. He had never realized how many stupid, ridiculous, mean, and bad thoughts and wishes he harbored. He wanted to hide them, to keep the presence from seeing them, but the presence could see everything, there was nowhere to hide...
Fear not, little brother, murmured a huge, deep voice. There is no judgment yet. You have much time to improve. But I must ask your permission for a change to be made in you, a change which will help you in your quest and your duty here. I will elucidate.
Harry hesitated after the explanation was finished, but he felt in his bones that the presence literally could not harm him, could not do anything to him which was not for good. All right, he said finally. But just while I’m here.
Of course. Peace to you, young Prince.
The presence vanished, and in that moment Harry felt his mind changing. Some of his memories slid away, not disappearing but going into a box marked “Not Important Now.” Faces and names became blurred, as if by long distance and time. Harry had no sense of panic—he’d agreed to this, and he knew he’d have those thoughts and memories again as soon as he needed them. His mind was still his; it just had a door in it now that he’d agreed not to open until the time was right.
He looked at Meghan and saw the same awareness in her eyes. “I feel... ready,” the girl said. “Or, more ready, I guess.”
“Ready to do our best,” said Hermione, joining them. “Ready to learn what we need to know.”
All together, they turned to look at Malfoy, who looked back at them coolly.
“You really should try this water, Malfoy,” Harry said aloud.
“I told you, I’m not thirsty.”
“Oh, but it’s lovely,” said Meghan. “You’ll like it if you try it.”
“Are you deaf? I don’t want any.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t mean it personally, Nata,” Hermione said quickly as the naiad began to draw herself up indignantly. “It’s only that he doesn’t understand how very good your water is. Maybe if he got better acquainted with it.”
A smile of pure mischief flashed onto Nata’s face. She snapped her fingers—
And the bank under Malfoy was abruptly no longer there.
Harry savored the look of panic on the blond boy’s face for the split second he seemed to hang in midair before plunging into the water below him.
“Right where his nasty feet were,” said Meghan, grinning. “Serves him right.”
Draco tried to keep his mouth shut, but the shock of hitting the bottom of the pool snapped it open, and he had to swallow if he didn’t want to choke.
He gritted his teeth as he felt a great thing enter his mind. Get out, he thought at it harshly. I don’t want you, I don’t need you, get out.
Hear me out first, said a voice which would not be denied. I will not change your mind for you, nor, at this time, will I attempt to show you a different path. I will merely help you along the way you have chosen.
Draco frowned. Help me? You’ll help me go the way I’m going?
In this time and place, yes. I offer you what I offered the others...
Draco considered it. I can get the memories back anytime?
Anytime you wish.
And you’ll stay out of my head from now on?
If that is what you want.
It is. Most definitely.
Then I take my leave.
Draco waited out the feeling of a small storm inside his head. It wasn’t entirely new to him, since the Wizard had seen fit to implant the information about Narnia in Draco’s head permanently.
Not a disaster. I still know what I need to do. I haven’t really lost anything important...
Once he was sure he was normal again, he surfaced and looked up at the bank, where the three goody-goodies were all staring at him anxiously. Four, now, since the naiad had joined them.
Say what else you will about her, at least she’s pretty.
But he was concerned with someone else right now. And a bit of revenge.
He whipped out his wand and pointed it at Granger.
“Accio!”
Granger screeched as she was yanked off her feet. Draco had just time to feel smug before he realized that she was now coming towards him rapidly, and he had no way to stop her.
The resulting splash was quite impressive.
As Draco struggled upright once more, Freeman’s cheerful little voice drilled into his ears. “Where is it deep, Nata?”
“Just there,” the naiad said, pointing. “Or it will be.”
Freeman took a running start. “BLUDGERRRRR!” she shouted, and hit the water hard, spraying Draco and Granger yet again.
Granger shook her hair back and laughed. “Come on, Harry,” she called. “The water’s great!”
“Just a second,” Potter said. With one smooth motion, he drew his own wand and aimed it at Draco. “Abigo!”
The Banishing Charm hit Draco hard in the chest, knocking him over for the third time in five minutes.
If I spend my whole time in Narnia like this, I’ll never get dry.
It was his last coherent thought for several minutes, as Potter’s entry into the pool immediately precipitated a water fight.
Hermione helped Meghan out of the pool, laughing and dripping, and Harry and Malfoy clambered out on opposite sides.
“Well, that was fun,” Harry said, shaking water off his glasses. “Except now we’re all going to be wet for the rest of the day.”
Nata, who had joined in the fight eagerly and changed sides as rapidly as anyone, coughed slightly behind her hand.
“Could you do something?” said Hermione, turning to her. Naiads had magic with water, after all. “Dry us off, maybe?”
Nata raised her hands and made a gathering gesture towards Hermione. Hermione jumped as she felt the water being pulled from her clothes, and stared as it sped into a large, scintillating ball which hung in the air in front of Nata. The naiad repeated her action with each of the other three, and then caught the huge ball of water in both her hands and dived into her pool, with barely a ripple to mark her passing.
“Not even spotted,” Harry said, looking through his glasses. “Excellent.”
“Hello the spring,” called a voice from nearby, and a man appeared between the trees—no, not a man, Hermione realized, a dryad, and carrying a large hamper, which made him Meghan’s friend Oren. Dryads near their trees were apt to look like the tree come to life, while dryads away from their trees looked more human. Still, there was always that essence of tree about them, in the colors of their skin and hair, and the ways they moved and spoke...
Hermione didn’t stop to wonder how she knew all this, as she had just discovered that she was hungry, a discovery shared by her comrades. Food thus took priority over talk, and after an excellent lunch, Nata reemerged from the water with the fauns’ boat.
“My magic allows me to travel through water, and to take things along with me,” she said proudly. “The stream is shallow at first, but deepens soon. Shall I meet your Highnesses where it is first deep enough to take a boat of this size?”
“That is after the first ford?” Oren asked.
Nata nodded, and looked towards Harry. “Your Highness?”
“How much of a walk is it?” Harry asked.
“Less than an hour,” Oren said. “And not difficult terrain.”
“That sounds fine. Thank you, Nata.”
The naiad blushed, tinting the whole spring pink, and sank back into the water, pulling the boat down with her.
“More walking,” Malfoy grumbled as they left the Silver Spring behind. “I shouldn’t have had that second slice of pie.”
“Malfoy’s getting fa-at,” Meghan sang, skipping along in front.
Oren reached out a long arm and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Princess,” was all he said, but implicit in his tone was a mild rebuke, and Meghan was immediately quiet.
“Wish we could do that,” Harry said quietly to Hermione.
Hermione nodded, watching the back of Meghan’s head as her blue and yellow beads flashed in and out of the bars of afternoon sunlight coming between the trees. “I like her, but she’s... well, she’s twelve. And she’s probably difficult when she’s in a bad mood.”
“With that and the age difference, you know who’s going to be High Queen, don’t you?”
Hermione stiffened all over for a second. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said. As if being Queen wasn’t bad enough...
“As long as you’re High King, and not Malfoy,” she said finally. “I couldn’t bear it.”
“I intend to be,” Harry said firmly. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting him have the final say. I don’t really want to be in charge, but if it’s him or me...”
“You’ll do well,” Hermione said, pressing his shoulder. “You always do.”
And people look up to you, Harry, and follow you. You just can’t see that yet.
“If there is anything you wish to know about Narnia, ask me,” said Oren, looking over his shoulder. “If I do not know, I shall endeavor to find out.”
“Tell us about the Kings and Queens,” said Hermione. “We know their names, and that they’re all part human, but nothing else about them.”
“How’s the succession work?” Malfoy put in. “Do they abdicate when we get there, or do we have to go through some ritual first?”
“Eager to begin your rule, Prince Draco?” The dryad laughed. “The Kings and Queens are all young, and there is no need for them to step down until all of you are fully ready to take up your crowns. And then there is the matter of earning those crowns... but that will take care of itself. So. The Kings and Queens of Narnia as she stands today.
“High King Ardan is respected for his knowledge, and for his fairness. He is no weakling, but his greatest might is at the negotiating table, not on the battlefield. King Gilles is the fighting King in this generation, and he fights well and nobly. He loves to laugh, and to joke, and he has been King Ardan’s greatest friend for many years, from childhood.
“The Queens, too, have known one another since they were young, although they are very different. High Queen Ilana is often merry, but sometimes mysterious, for she is a Wise Woman and sees things hidden from others. It was she who foresaw your coming into Narnia; Aslan showed you to her in a dream. Queen Caelin has the quickest temper in Narnia, but also the shortest memory, at least if she was wrong in her anger. Anger her justly at your peril.”
“And they’re only part human?” Malfoy asked. “How much?”
“King Ardan and Queen Ilana are both one-eighth human, each with one human great-grandparent. Queen Caelin is half human, and King Gilles...” Oren frowned. “By ancestry, he is one-quarter human, but his is a special case.”
“Special how?” Harry asked.
“Do you have skin-turners in your homeland?”
“You mean people who can change into animals?” Hermione said. “Yes, we do.”
“Is there any particular kind of animal they change into? And do they change by themselves, or is the change forced upon them?”
“There are different kinds,” said Harry. “Some pick when to change, some don’t. The ones who don’t pick change into wolves at every full moon, they’re called werewolves. The ones who do pick are called Animagi, and they can be any kind of animal, but I think it depends a lot on the person.”
“Are either of them widely considered evil?”
“Werewolves,” said Malfoy before anyone else could. “Most people think they’re bloodthirsty and disgusting and wouldn’t have one nearby if you paid them.”
Hermione contemplated for a moment the satisfying sound that would be made by Malfoy’s cheek coming into swift contact with her hand.
“But not all werewolves are bad,” Meghan put in. “They’re just people, and they can be good or bad like everyone else.”
“I never said all werewolves were bad,” Malfoy said priggishly. “I just said what most people think.”
Meghan sniffed.
“Here in Narnia, skin-turners choose when they will change,” said Oren. “The trait runs in families, and the most common form is that of a wolf. Traditionally, werewolves and skin-turners in general are evil creatures, but sometimes one breaks away from his family and chooses to be good. A boy named Gilles was one such.”
Malfoy’s head whipped around so fast, he nearly lost his balance. “What? Your King...”
“If you dislike it so heartily, perhaps you should not proceed to the palace, Prince,” said Oren, meeting Malfoy’s incredulous stare. “I am sure a family could be found in the woods to take you in until Aslan comes, to return you to your own place...”
Malfoy dropped his eyes. “Never said I didn’t want to go on,” he muttered.
Hermione covered her mouth to hide a smile.
“Besides, he’s really more like an Animagus, isn’t he?” Harry asked the dryad. “He changes when he wants to, not when he has to?”
Oren nodded. “King Gilles is a renowned fighter in both his forms,” he said. “I am sure he will want to train you Princes in weaponswork himself.”
“Just the Princes?” said Hermione indignantly. “What about us?”
“Yeah, what about the girls?” Meghan added. “Don’t we get to learn weapons?”
“Of course,” said Oren, smiling at Meghan. “Did you think you would be kept behind an embroidery frame? No, the Princesses of Narnia know how to defend themselves and their country. You will learn archery and swordwork from Queen Caelin, who is nearly as fine a fighter as her husband. She will also tutor all of you in music.”
“Music?” said Malfoy, and to Hermione’s surprise, he sounded interested. “Does she play or sing?”
“Both, and in many different styles. She may even teach you some of the songs of her mother’s people.”
“Who are they?” Meghan asked.
“Queen Caelin is the daughter of a merwoman.” Oren sighed. “Her story is not a happy one, and I tell you only that you may not blunder. I assume you all know of the land of Calormen, Narnia’s great enemy to the south. Reasa, the Queen’s mother, was captured by a Calormene knight. I use the term loosely, for he was surely no knight as we understand the term, a good and gentle man who defends the helpless and the weak.”
Hermione shivered as the import of the story struck home to her. Meghan had her hands pressed to her mouth, and Harry’s were curled into fists. Even Malfoy looked vaguely outraged, but that might just be the effect of a story about cross-breeding.
“Some said it might have been kinder had Reasa died, but I cannot agree. For had she died, we would have no second Queen on the thrones at Cair Paravel, and perhaps no Kings or Queens at all. Queen Caelin’s other great talent is in the arts of healing, and she has saved all their lives at least once.”
“Will she teach us that too?” Meghan asked excitedly.
“If you ask it of her, perhaps she will.”
“Aren’t you going to have enough to do?” Harry asked.
“Learning something more never hurts,” Meghan shot over her shoulder.
“What about the other King and Queen?” Hermione asked. “The High King and Queen?”
“King Ardan has many kinds of blood, human, faun, dryad, and naiad. Queen Ilana, apart from her human ancestry, is all dryad. They will tutor you in other arts, for it is well that a Prince or Princess should know much.”
“What do you do for fun in Narnia?” said Meghan curiously. “Do you ever dance?”
“Oh, Princess...” Oren laughed. “If you like to dance, you will be happy in Narnia.”
Stories of balls at Cair Paravel, of midnight revels in summer, of dances celebrating snow and moonlight, filled the rest of the walk to the place where Nata waited with the boat, and most of the afternoon besides. Two Deer, a Stag and his Doe, brought a dinner in a hamper slung between them, and allowed Meghan and Hermione to stroke them before they galloped off again.
“What is left will serve for breakfast,” said Oren as Harry set the last of the uneaten pasties in the hamper and shut the lid. “And then, luncheon at Cair Paravel, and your new lives begin.”
Meghan could barely eat anything the next morning for excitement. The Kings and Queens had danced through her dreams all night, offering all sorts of faces: kind, stern, laughing, sober, mocking, polite, cruel, loving...
She sat in the bow of the boat, peering forward to see if she could see the castle, and feeling both sun and spray on her face. Will they like me? What will they think of me? Will I be a proper Princess?
But what was a proper Princess? What should she look like, who should she be?
A proper Princess, Meghan found herself thinking, is the daughter of a King and his Queen. She is as wise as her father, as serene as her mother, and as beautiful as the dawn.
And she fit none of those categories in the least.
She snuck a look over her shoulder. Harry and Hermione were learning to play Narnian cat’s cradle from Oren, and Malfoy was sitting by himself, trailing his fingers in the water. None of them are any of those things either, she tried to console herself.
But they all have other things to offer. Harry is a leader, a strong one; Hermione is so smart, everyone knows her; and Malfoy’s good at sneaking, and I suppose Kings and Queens have things they need sneaked like everyone else.
I’m just not good at anything. I wasn’t even good at being my mother’s daughter...
Her mind stopped there, outside the closed door. Not here, not now, her thoughts whispered. Here is pain, pain that needs healing. Healing is near. Do not be afraid.
But Meghan couldn’t help it.
“And here we are!” Oren said as the boat’s prow bumped gently against the Cair Paravel river dock. “Thank you, friends,” he added over the side of the boat.
A male and a female head rose from the water. “Not at all,” said the male.
“Our duty to the Princes and Princesses,” added the female.
Both heads bobbed respectfully, and the naiads of the river who had escorted them here were gone, swimming back to the house of their father, the river god.
If they’d been in a boat on the ocean, Meghan thought dizzily, she’d be able to blame the salt on her lips on the spray, but the Great River was still fresh this far from the sea, and the only place the salt could have come from was her own sweat. She was so frightened—what if the Kings and Queens took one look and said, “No”? What if they sent her back through the wardrobe, back to her own world, where she would never be anything more than an inconvenient accident, a reminder of pain, unwanted and useless...
“Get out!” shouted a furious voice.
Meghan’s head jerked up. A woman, a dark-skinned woman was chasing a black dog down the steps which led from the palace—she wore an apron, she must be a cook—
“Ruined, absolutely ruined, you filthy nuisance!” The woman hurled a small black object, nearly hitting the fleeing dog. “Out, and don’t you dare come back!”
The dog bounded down the final steps to the dock, then turned and looked up at the woman, whining.
“I said out!” The woman hurled something else after the dog, something which flashed metallic in the sunlight, and rang as it landed on the timbers of the dock (the dog had dodged it in time). She turned on her heel and marched back up the steps, disappearing with a final-sounding bang through the door at the top.
Meghan ran down the dock to the dog, which was sitting forlornly at the base of the steps. “What a horrible woman!” she said fervently, letting the dog sniff her fingers, then petting it vigorously. “If she works at the palace, they should fire her. She’s mean. What did she throw at him, anyway? It sounded like it would have hurt...”
Harry coughed.
Meghan looked over at him. “What?”
Harry was holding something round and metallic in his hands. But it wasn’t the pot lid or piece of scrap metal Meghan had assumed it was. Instead, it was shining silver, set with faceted green stones, and besides being rather battered at the moment, looked unmistakably regal...
“Your Majesty,” said Oren politely to someone behind Meghan, and bowed. Malfoy’s eyes went very wide, and he too bowed. Hermione dropped an unsteady curtsey, which would probably have been better if she’d got out of the boat first.
Meghan slowly turned around.
A man stood behind her where the dog had sat, a tall and dark-haired man. He was holding out his hand to Harry, who straightened up from his bow and passed over the coronet. “Bent out of shape again,” the man said, shaking his head. “Never mind, it’ll do.” He set it carefully on his head, where, after an initial wobble or two, it stayed. Then he looked down, and smiled.
“So you’re Princess Meghan,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m King Gilles. Thank you for taking my part, but I hope you don’t insist on firing that lady who threw my crown out after me. I’d rather not lose the best wife I’ve ever had.”
Meghan looked into laughing gray eyes and smiled back, timidly, and laid her hand in his.
Maybe everything could still be all right.