Chapter Text
Although Lasaraleen had said she was dying to hear Aravis's story, she showed no sign of really wanting to hear it at all. She was, in fact, much better at talking than at listening. She insisted on Aravis having a long and luxurious bath (Calormene baths are famous) and then dressing her up in the finest clothes before she would let her explain anything. The fuss she made about choosing the dresses nearly drove Aravis mad. She remembered now that Lasaraleen had always been like that, interested in clothes and parties and gossip. Aravis had always been more interested in bows and arrows and horses and dogs and swimming. You will guess that each thought the other silly. But when at last they were both seated after a meal (it was chiefly of the whipped cream and jelly and fruit and ice sort) in a beautiful pillared room (which Aravis would have liked better if Lasaraleen's spoiled pet monkey hadn't been climbing about it all the time) Lasaraleen at last asked her why she was running away from home.
Chapter VII, Aravis in Tashbaan, The Horse and His Boy
“Cats and monkeys; monkeys and cats; all human life is there.”
Henry James
"The life of spies is to know, not to be known." The quote is attributable to George Herbert.
Part 1, from First True Spring in the Second Year of the Reign of the Four to Summer of the Seventh Year of the Reign Of The Four
First True Spring in the Second Year of the Reign of the Four
The stories all make Narnia sound better than it actually was. It was fine. Most of the time. Everyone always says that winters and primates don’t get on, and, except for a few oddballs in my family tree, it’s true.
So, as my grandmothers tell it, when Jadis and her cold moved in, the Talking Monkeys and Apes, and our cousins (it’s rude to call them dumb) moved out, south or west. And most didn’t want to admit it, but it was often, probably, better, even than before the Long Winter. Warmer, better food of the kind we liked, and more of it.
But for me and my kind, the weather, well, we don’t love the cold, but we’re Talking Primates and we could manage cold and snow with some planning and good shelter.
No, the real problem for our type of ape is that we like being where the people are. We like humans. We love a busy court, the merchants’ high streets, the crowded communes and villages outside a castle’s walls, or an active market at a port or on a waterway. The more people, the better.
And that was the real problem with Narnia. There were never many humans there. And when Jadis came, the humans she didn’t murder fled. So we did, too.
My clan stopped in Anvard, and that’s where I was born. But I didn’t stay there for long. If you’re smart (I am) and know how to keep your mouth shut (I can), any adventurous monkey could hitch a ride on a ship or in a caravan and head south, to Calormen and the city of Tashbaan, or one of the other cities further south or along the long coastline.
And well, fact is, Tashbaan is a wonderful place to be if you’re a monkey. The weather is great, the food is even better, and if you don’t give it away by talking, there are people everywhere. If you act cute and do things that are clever but not too annoying, people will happily give you a bed safe from predators and abusive traders, clean water for drinking and bathing, and fresh fruit any time you want it.
And there was always something happening, especially in the inner courts of that great City. The Calormene of Tashbaan were crafty and cultured. It wasn’t nice that the Calormenes called the Archen louts. But it was pretty true. In Tashbaan, they had plumbing. They had real medicine, not (just) leeches and amputations. They had universities and temples, roads and aqueducts. They were arrogant, sure, but they had reason to be.
As a Talking Monkey in Calormen, I knew the risks. If any of the Tarkaans and Tarkheenas had known that the adorable monkey crawling in the orange trees above them could speak and was understanding every word of their councils and plots, I’d have been burned or boiled as a demon fel. But they never knew, and I never gave them cause to suspect that I was anything but an occasional distraction who would, so conveniently, always get very quiet when their voices dropped to conspiratorial whispers.
I love Tashbaan.
And then, two years ago, all Narnians heard the call, even as far away as the inner courts of Tashbaan, and we followed we knew not what back to the Stone Table and Aslan. The good news, Jadis was dead, it was only winter half the year and there were four Human monarchs on the thrones of Cair Paravel. The bad news, it was still winter half the year and the Four were practically the only Humans within two days’ ride on a good horse. Or Horse, if they were interested.
And the food? Well, if you liked apples, it was fine. Me and my band went back to eating the crabs on the Cair Paravel sands. Made me long for the days sitting in durian and mango trees and listening to Calormene plotting. Once you’ve been accustomed to hanging around the courtyards of Tashbaan palaces and having the Tisroc’s second, third, and fourth wives fight for the honour of having a slave whack a coconut so you can eat it, Cair Paravel is really rustic. No disrespect, of course, but even Archenland was sophisticated by comparison. So many of the niceties for humans, which primates enjoy too, just aren’t very relevant when most of the population doesn’t have a thumb. Or hands. And whose idea of luxury is a branch positioned just right for a good back scratch.
And now it had all gone to Jadis. Again. I’d really been looking forward to the human delegation that had arrived from the islands for some sort of diplomatic visit. More people was good, listening in on some intelligent conversation with adults would be engaging, and the food would be better. But two of the visitors tried to assassinate the Kings and Queen Susan. So, all that excitement for nothing. There were guards and closed doors, and it was all just pretty grim. And disappointing.
I was sitting on the beach smashing crabs; some of my sisters and mothers were up in the trees ringing the beach to gossip about the dead assassins and betting with the Crows on who Queen Lucy’s new Royal Guard would be.
I glanced up as a shadow circled above me. In somewhere other than Narnia, I’d be worried about an eagle swooping down, snatching me up, and feeding me to her chicks. It was just a Crow. Well, Raven, but I called them all Crows.
Sallowpad landed next to my pile of discarded shells.
“Are you happy here?”
Typical Crow. Never one for pleasantries. I’d not spoken to him in weeks. We’d talked a lot about Calormen when he found out I’d lived there. Then, he moved on. I didn’t feel used or manipulated. Again, just a typical Crow.
“It’s fine, Chief. Same as last time we spoke. I’d add dull, but with the assassination attempt, that would be rude.” I smacked the crab in front of me. It was already dead, but sometimes you just needed to hit things. “What’s the mood of the Four?”
“I don’t know. I did not ask.”
“You might want to.”
Again, the typical Crow. They don’t have much in the way of emotions, certainly not human ones. I decided to help him along as I did feel for the Four and what had happened. “They are surely angry, of course, and frightened that this happened in their home, and trying very hard to hide the fear. And lots of second-guessing about what they should have done differently.”
He ruffled his feathers and bobbed his head. “This is why I come. Their Majesties recognise this was an intelligence failure. They have ordered formation of an intelligence service.”
That was interesting enough to make me stop smashing the crab. “Really? That’s surprising. More mature than I would have expected.”
The Raven turned his head to the side. “Meaning?”
A Human would have rolled her eyes. Birds were so smart about things and so dumb about people.
“You do know that they are still children? Granted, in Calormen and Archenland, Queen Susan would already be married, maybe even with a babe at the breast, and the High King would probably be campaigning, but they are all still very young by Human standards. Creating a system for spying and gathering intelligence means they’re thinking like adults.” I left out more sophisticated.
Wait. Why was he coming to me? Not just for emotional advice. Oh.
“Is there a Calormene connection to the assassins?”
Sallowpad ruffled his feathers, probably annoyed that I’d sussed it out so quickly. “Much too early to tell. But if this did start in Tashbaan, we’d never know.”
“I told you before the Tisroc was always trying to get into Narnia to spy on Jadis. Never worked, but they were trying right up to when I left.”
“It would be easier now. And why I came to you.”
I felt a thrill of excitement shiver down my back and my hair rose with it. I tossed my crab-smashing rock aside. Tash willing, I’d never eat another crab. I could be bathing in ass milk and slurping ices and fresh fruit.
“You want me to go back to Tashbaan. To spy. For you.”
“For Narnia.”
“Get me to Anvard. I can take it from there. I know just where to start.”
“The Tisroc’s court?”
I started combing my hair, thinking I’d need to neaten up. “No. At least not at first. If things haven’t changed, everything interesting always went through the Grand Vizier first. That’s where the real intelligence was. Axartha’s wife, Alohi, adored me.” They also had excellent mango trees at their Tashbaan villa and their country estate was in Mezreel and really beautiful.
“The Seraph leaves tomorrow, will dock in Galma.”
“Perfect. I can get a ship to Terebinthia and from there to Tashbaan.”
I stopped combing my fur. “On second thought, if I look really terrible, they’ll think someone stole me away and I staggered back to them out of devotion.’
“Ship,” Sallowpad ordered. “We don’t want you dying before you get there. I’ll tell King Edmund and Queen Susan we will have a spy in the Tisroc’s court within the month.”
Maybe I’d just get real skinny during the sea voyage. The trip didn’t take long but I wasn’t especially fond of fish.
Fall in the Third Year of the Reign of the Four
The problem with the great idea of sending me to spy for Narnia in the home of the Grand Vizier himself was that we really hadn’t made any provision for how to get the amazing intelligence I gathered back to Narnia. It helped once Faun Tumnus finally arrived in Tashbaan to open the Narnian Residence. I felt for him. He thought the Calormene diplomats and financiers were always giving veiled insults (they were), but they thought he disliked them and their country (Tumnus hated every stone in Tashbaan), and they perceived him as an unserious representative of the Crown. They weren’t entirely wrong. Tumnus’s chief qualification was loyalty to the Four and he’d come because they really didn’t have anyone else to send. Tashbaan was the top diplomatic post in all the Known Lands and Tumnus had no prior posting or experience and knew nothing of Calormene culture. He was diligent in trying to remedy his ignorance, but it was always an effort he took no pleasure in.
His presence in Tashbaan did make it much easier to exchange intelligence more regularly, but I still had to be very careful. It wouldn’t do for Grand Vizier Axartha’s favorite pet to be seen meeting with Narnians or going in and out of the Residence. I usually met the Crows on the rooftops late at night, long after the gates closed, and even the nightwatch had turned in and only those up to no good and the jackals at the Tombs were the ones still out.
Today was different. That afternoon, I’d moved the flowerpot on a balcony on the street side of Axartha’s villa; I didn’t see any obvious Narnian, but I heard a single caw from a lemon tree and knew the message would get to Tumnus. Urgent. Meet Tonight.
I made a nuisance of myself all afternoon, chattering nonsensically, throwing things at people, pulling the cat’s tail, trying to ride the dogs, and got caught sneaking food from the kitchens. Alohi and Axartha were so vexed, they finally banished me to the courtyard. Still, I waited until the horns sounded and the great gates of the City shut. Then I clambered up the tallest mango tree in the yard, scrambled across the roof tiles, and leapt and swung, from house to house, down two circles of the inner city, to the Narnian Residence.
I could sense the black birds flapping along with me. Not saying a word, but they were keeping an eye out, in case I was followed. The City was still full of sounds and smells, and lamps had not yet been doused. The Crows raised no alarm, though. It was a real relief when I swung from the roof of the Galman Embassy and landed in the lemon trees that adorned the inner courtyard of the Narnia Residence. My abrupt landing disturbed the fruit and several lemons bounced down to the pavers below.
“Zaki?” Tumnus called softly.
He was waiting for me.
“Yes, sorry about the lemons.”
I swung down and landed at his feet. “We should go inside.”
Tumnus was being very gracious but I was really too rattled and everything he offered, I either didn’t want it (Narnian spirits or beer) or could get better at Axartha’s home (fruit, cream, ice, nuts).
But he did know how to make me comfortable and had set up some low cushions on the floor.
He didn’t waste any time. “Tell me.”
“I went with Alohi to the Palace today. She was visiting Farib…”
“The Tisroc’s second wife?”
“Yes, none of us like her much. Alohi was trying to smooth the path, as the poets would say.”
“We were escorted to the Residence, the private part of the Palace.” I paused, took a very human-like deep breath. “Tumnus, on our way to Farib’s courtyard, I saw and heard the Tisroc there. And he was with Ahoshta Tarkaan, and Kailash, the Finance Minister, and Mahrem.”
Tumnus sucked in a nervous breath. “I don’t like that combination. I’ve never met Mahrem…”
“Hope you never do. I don’t know that he has a title, but everyone knows he is responsible for Calormene intelligence and their secret police.”
Secret police weren’t words you used casually in Narnia, and certainly not with someone who had survived the Long Winter.
“Why the Residence? I assume it was so they could be assured more privacy?”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s the reason because it’s even worse, Tumnus. Lord Bar was with them.”
“Lord Bar?!” Tumnus hissed. “King Lune’s Lord Chancellor? Are you sure?”
“Positive. I recognised him from when I lived in Anvard. They used his name. They seemed…” I searched for the word… “familiar. This wasn’t formal. Or diplomatic. They laughed, Tumnus.”
I heard snapping beaks overhead. The Crows were listening. Their gossip could be a nuisance but this was important.
Tumnus settled back in his cushion and took a sip of his wine.
“What did you hear?”
“Nothing of consequence – it was all as he was leaving and I dallied as long as I could, which wasn’t long. But Bar did thank them. And said he would have to visit his banker before his ship sailed. They laughed at that.”
“Which could be innocuous or could be bribery.”
“Probably bribery given that Kailash, Ahoshta, and Mahrem are involved.”
The next question was why, and even though he was a fish out of water in Tashbaan, Tumnus was still very astute. He’d lived his whole life under Jadis and knew how spying and intelligence gathering worked. He asked the question I’d been avoiding.
“Axartha was not invited to this meeting, Zaki. What do you make of that?”
I scratched my ear, pulled my tail closer, and looked away. He’d probed the sore spot. I was fond of Axartha and Alohi but I couldn’t be blind to it. “He’s old, Tumnus. He has a reputation for virtue.” Not wholly earned but not wholly mistaken, either. “If there is something dirty going on, the Tisroc might keep him out of it so that he doesn’t hear any dissent.”
Tumnus took another sip of his wine. “I think something dirty is going on.”
From a coat tree, a Crow asked, “What of Ahoshta?”
“Who’s asking?” I couldn’t keep straight which Crows moved in and out of Tashbaan. I also couldn’t tell them apart, but would never mention that, of course.
“Harah!” the Crow announced. A smallish, so probably younger, Crow hopped down to a chair and bobbed her head. “Chief Sallowpad assigned me here. First foreign posting!”
Sallowpad must think highly of her. And Harah had asked a good question.
“Yes, what of him, Zaki? I’ve only met him once before.”
“Liked him that well, eh, Tumnus? Given the effort he’s making to ingratiate himself everywhere, that takes real planning.”
Showing that Tumnus did actually have the makings of a diplomat, he responded blandly, “Indeed, it does.”
“Behind his back, the Tarkaan class all refer to him as low. And they don’t just mean class. He’s always…” I searched for the right word.
“Rude?” Harah asked.
“No. The opposite.”
“Grasping,” Tumnus injected. “You get the sense he will engage with you and flatter you, but only until someone of higher rank or importance appears.”
“That’s Ahsohta!” I took one of the nuts from the basket Tumnus had set on the floor next to our cushions. He’d even shelled them, which was nice of him, as I wasn’t carrying a rock.
Tumnus turned to Harah. “We don’t dare commit this to writing, even in the cipher. You and Kangee should return to Narnia immediately and inform their Majesties of Lord Bar’s possible treachery. They will need to inform King Lune.”
Harah bobbed her head and fluffed her feathers. “Got it.” Another Crow hopped down next to her, Kangee presumably.
As a spy in the enemy camp, and, in my isolation, I’d begun to worry that I was too impulsive and hastily jumping to these conclusions. It was reassuring that the others were taking this as seriously as it had seemed to me.
I’m good at this. I can give instructions, too.
“Also, report back to Sallowpad and their Majesties that the fact that Ahoshta was in a meeting with Mahrem and the Tisroc suggests he’s set his sights high. If we see low ideas coming from Tashbaan, odds are, it’s started there.”
Winter in the Third Year of the Reign of the Four
It didn’t take long for the “low,” indeed, truly vile, to manifest. This time, Tumnus’s news must have arrived nearly the same time as my own intelligence. Harah was putting a flower in the pot just as I was trying to move it. We had a good laugh later over her indignant squawking and my hysterical screeching as we fought on the balcony. The housekeeper finally chased Harah away with a broom and gave me a fruit ice to soothe my nerves.
It was kind, but nothing was going to appease my anger and disgust.
I swung over to the Narnia Residence as soon as I could – too early for safety, probably, but this time, it was worth the risk.
Tumnus had already set us up to meet in one of the Residence’s inner meeting rooms. He shut the doors and windows and had dismissed all the Calormene staff for the night. Crows were perched all over the Residence, watching for spies, which was sensible, even if I didn’t think it necessary. Mahrem’s Secret Police, they now called themselves the Kilat, deemed the Residence an “intelligence-poor target.”
Tumnus had a large bottle already set out, though his company wouldn’t be drinking.
“Chief! It’s very good to see you.” I’d not seen Sallowpad since I’d left Cair Paravel. The Raven was perched on the back of one of the two big, stuffed chairs that were painted with flamingos and crocodiles. There was a mild insult there as Calormenes deemed flamingos as merely ornamental and crocodiles as primitive; I’d suggested Tumnus get rid of them but he thought the chairs were comfortable.
Sitting in the chair next to the Chief was a large, grey Narnian Rat. She was picking through walnut meats and scattering the shells over the cushions and floor. Only one Rat could be so messy with no comment at all.
“Hello again, Zaki.” Typical Crow. I was sure Sallowpad was glad to see me, but you’d never, ever know it.
The Rat raised her paw and speaking through a full mouth, mumbled, “I’m Willa, but if you’re as smart as everyone says, you’ve figured that out already.”
Queen Susan had sent her own most trusted emissary and spy. Since I’d left the Cair, Willa and Sallowpad together had built the Narnian Intelligence Service. Everyone called it Rat and Crow. I’d heard Willa had been put out that Sallowpad got “King Edmund’s Royal Murder” and she was only “Queen Susan’s Royal Mischief.”
“I’m honoured.” Between Tumnus, Willa, and Sallowpad, the only higher authorities in Narnia were the Royal Guards and the Kings and Queens, and maybe the Cair Paravel Cook.
Tumnus fortified himself with a foul-smelling spirit that was usually only consumed by Dwarfs and any human who didn’t mind blindness. “Zaki, what brought us all here is the tragedy out of Anvard. This is your news, as well?”
Cercopes preserve us, I needed to spend less time with Humans. I was starting to nod. “Yes. Axartha was summoned to the Palace early this morning. Is it true what they said? Lord Bar kidnapped Crown Prince Cor? And the Prince is…”
It was so ghastly, I couldn’t say the words. I’d barely managed to control myself during the blunt, horrific briefing Mahrem gave to the Tisroc, Axartha, and the rest of the High Council.
“Missing at sea,” Sallowpad croaked.
Willa paused in her chewing. “Presumed dead.”
Tumnus gestured at the solemn Crows ringing the room. “By the time King Lune finally overtook Bar’s ship, they were nearly in sight of Tashbaan. Bar was dead and the Prince, a rowboat, and one of his conspirators were gone. We’ve been looking all day.”
“Nothing,” Harah said solemnly.
The Crows were looking ragged and tired.
“You haven’t heard all the details, Zaki,” Willa said. “Based on what you provided, we quietly recommended Lune audit the Lord Chancellor’s accounts. I’ve been in Anvard the last three months. They discovered massive embezzlement. Lune dismissed Bar and foolishly kept him at liberty.”
Willa was obviously no diplomat. No one objected to her characterisation, either.
“Leopards don’t change their spots,” Willa went on. “So I searched Bar’s rooms and found Calormene currency and a lot of confidential material that should not have been stored anywhere but Lune’s lockbox.”
Willa probably read it first, even if Archenland was Narnia’s closest ally.
“Bar knew we were closing in on him. He had a crewed boat waiting. He took the child and fled.”
Tumnus leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his furry knees. “That’s what we know. What did you learn, Zaki?”
I picked up one of the shells Willa had dropped, a nervous habit. I didn’t have anyone to groom except myself. Sometimes Axartha’s cat let me groom her.
“Axartha was summoned to the Palace early this morning due to a letter King Lune delivered to the Tisroc. Most of the Council was there, including Mahrem and Ahoshta. Mahrem delivered the briefing. He lied about all of it, of course. Dismissed the letter King Lune had presented to the Tisroc as typical Northern madness. Denied any involvement.”
“Prince Cor?” Tumnus urged. “Was there any…”
They were all staring at me, hoping for something I could not deliver.
“Nothing other than the report that he was missing.”
The disappointment in the room was deep. I pushed on with my bad news.
“Ahoshta is capable of anything, and Mahrem is happy to execute it. I would put nothing past them. But most of the Council, including the Tisroc, considered the kidnapping senseless to the point of lunacy. I thought most of them were shocked by the stupidity of it. The piled heaps of scorn on Northern barbarians. It might have been an act, but I think the Tisroc was earnest in ordering a search of the coastline for a shipwrecked child.”
“For ransom,” Sallowpad said.
“Unlikely.”
“Why? Explain.”
I had just contradicted Chief Sallowpad, who had been handling intelligence operations since long before I was born. He’d managed the spy network in the final years of the Long Winter. But as good as he and Willa were, they didn’t know the Calormene. Their ignorance of Tashbaan culture was why I was important to Narnia, why I was a skilled spy, and why this very important, very smart audience was hanging on my every word.
“Sallowpad, to the Tisroc and Tarkaan class, they saw this as a stupid risk for no reward. There’s little value of a Crown Prince or eldest child as a hostage because no Tarkaan Lord or Vizier ever has just one heir or even two or three. That’s just bad planning and tempting the gods with catastrophe, which, to their mind, is confirmed by what happened here. The Tisroc already has twelve children, and he’s not stopping. And the Court is full of fosters. You lose an heir, you pick another, blood or fosterling. I’m not sure the Tisroc would ransom any of them.”
“Bar knew once exposed he was no use to Mahrem,” Sallowpad replied eventually.
I managed to not nod in agreement. “Bar might have thought, wrongly, that the Prince would guarantee his asylum in Tashbaan.”
Willa brushed her fur and stared at him. Her whiskers were twitching in earnest. She didn’t have the sensitivity of some other Narnians, but she was very perceptive.
“So not a ransom. But maybe something else. At the meeting, did anyone discuss a prophecy?”
“What? No, not this time. Why?”
It looked like Willa and Sallowpad were going to say something, but Tumnus interrupted. “Zaki, I’ve passed on to Sallowpad and Willa your observation that the Tisroc is superstitious and often consults soothsayers and astrologers before major actions. You say that there was no mention of a Narnian prophecy?”
I put both shells down, annoyed at my constant fiddling before this audience. “No.”
Willa filled in the gaping hole. “When King Lune’s boys were born, a Narnian Centaur prophesied that Prince Cor would some day save Archenland from the deadliest danger in which ever she lay.”
“We thought the Calormene might have ordered Bar to kidnap Prince Cor for this reason,” Sallowpad added. “To attain victory over Archenland in some future act of aggression.”
“No one said anything. And, I think, if they did know of it, they would have said something. Calormene have very low opinions of Narnian fortune tellers and if a prophecy had been in play, the Tisroc would have had his seer in the meeting. They…”
When no one said anything, and everyone kept staring at me, I realised that I was going to have to finish the sentence. “They think Northern poetry is uncouth. They still mock the When he shakes his mane, we shall have Spring again prophecy because they think it’s just more barbarian vulgarity.”
I was surprised I didn’t ruffle more feathers and fur with that one. Willa just sat on her haunches and twitched her whiskers. Sallowpad rustled his feathers. Tumnus sat back in his chair across from Willa and worked on perfecting a diplomat’s bland expression.
“Once they’ve rested, the Murder will continue to search,” Sallowpad said. “I must return to Narnia to report to their Majesties.”
“Please convey to King Lune my deepest sympathy, if there is a way to do so,” I added. I had no idea if they had told King Lune Narnia had a spy in Tashbaan who was the source of the Bar intelligence. I’d leave it to others to figure that out.
“I’ll be staying on for a bit,” Willa said, surprising me. “You’ll need more support, Zaki, with the next phase."
I was pleased, and annoyed, and felt my fur rise with my hackles. Were they second-guessing me because I’d failed to magically deliver Prince Cor? “And what is that?”
Sensing my annoyance, Tumnus put in quickly, “Zaki, you’ve done an outstanding job. Their Majesties are very grateful for your work.” Tumnus, at least, was able to say the right thing, at the right time. He was, after all, trying to be a diplomat.
“Thank you,” I replied a little stiffly, trying to bring my fur down. “More eyes and ears here would be in Narnia’s interests.”
I knew it was coming but it still hurt when Willa said bluntly, “It’s time for you to find your next placement. Axartha is losing power and influence. You need to get closer to Mahrem, to Ahoshta, and inside the Kilat. You need to be at the Palace more.”
Tumnus at least had the empathy to look sympathetic. I knew I shouldn’t expect any sentiment from Sallowpad or Willa in their request – no, demand – that I leave people I liked and who had treated me well. They were a Raven and Rat, and they thought a lot but didn’t feel much at all, or let emotions sway their thinking. That was sometimes an advantage. And sometimes it came off as really cold and rude.
I managed to avoid snarling or snapping at them and to force my hair down. “I know. I’ve been thinking about it. It will take some time, but Mahrem has a new wife and a young daughter. He won’t tolerate me joining his business at the Palace the way Axartha does, but, assuming he remains in this position, the daughter and wife will be there frequently with the Princesses.”
Sallowpad bobbed his head. “That works well with our plan!”
“Which is?” Willa and Sallowpad didn’t notice how stuffy and arch I sounded.
Tumnus did. “We couldn’t have developed it without your intelligence about how the Tisroc is superstitious. We want to play to his fears and make him believe that as much as he dislikes these… how does he describe the North, Zaki?”
I was being soothed and managed. Still, it was nice that someone considered my feelings and recognised my expertise. “He says that the sun is dark in his eyes every moment he remembers that Narnia is still free. He also believes that Jadis could have never been overthrown without powerful magic. He desperately wishes to conquer Narnia, but deeply fears acting on that."
“Yes!” Tumnus exclaimed. The spirit splashed out of his glass and a little spilled on Willa, who irritably flicked it away.
“So, we’re going to use that, increase it, make him fear ever trying to cross the sea or the desert to come after us,” Willa said. “We want to make him believe that Narnia is protected by demons and magic. That any attack on her would fail.”
It was intriguing. Even fantastic. It could work. But… “How?”
“Whisper campaign,” Sallowpad croaked, sounding very smug. “We did this in the last year of the Long Winter. Spread rumours of Aslan’s return, warmer weather, and humans. Made Maugrim chase his own tail.”
Willa flicked her own tail. I should remember to compliment her on it some time. Rats were very proud of their tails.
The pieces dropped into place. “Willa and I will spread rumours in the Palace. We can talk in places we won’t be seen but will be overheard. Something like…” I thought about all the conversation and pontification I’d heard over the years, the flowery language that hid dangerous thorns and many meanings. “Narnia is protected by a demon of hideous aspect and irresistible maleficence who appears in the shape of a Lion.” I spoke in a deliberately formal way, slow, and very human. I’d needed to practice to better mimic the soft Tarkaan accent. “Oh Tisroc, may you live forever, that Narnia is free may be dark in thy eyes but do not put your hand out so far North that it cannot be drawn back. Narnia is a land inhabited of demon fel, in the shapes of beasts that talk like men, and monsters that are half man and half beast.”
“Yes!” Willa exclaimed. “That! Just like that!”
I dropped my voice into a deep, conspiratorial whisper. “Only through strong magic could wicked children who now call themselves kings and queens, have killed the enchantress and broken her winter. Oh Tisroc delight of my eyes may you live forever, know that therefore the attacking of Narnia is a dark and doubtful enterprise.”
I really felt like I earned applause or bows for that. But only Tumnus had hands to clap and they were raised in salute with a drink in them.
Summer in the Seventh Year of the Reign of the Four
I was very happy when Lasaraleen outgrew dressing me in baby doll clothes. She still called me Bebek or Baybeeee, but at least I was no longer wearing nappies.
She was the only daughter of one of the most ruthless and powerful men in Tashbaan, who had had the favour of the Tisroc and the family expectations for her behaviour as the perfect little Tarkheena were very high. Lasarleen’s social schedule was relentless and, as I had predicted, she was very close to Tisroc’s family, especially the Princesses. During the Tashbaan season, she was at the Palace every day, and often overnight. She never stopped talking, knew everyone, and, as her favourite, dearest pet, everywhere she went, I went. Her job was to be as charming and ornamental as possible. She did this very well, and her parents, Mahrem and the very beautiful and mostly absent Nadide, were both very proud of her and very dismissive of her. No one seemed to hold Lasaraleen in any regard – she garnered no respect and she did not spark strong emotion; no one seemed to love her, but everyone liked her. She was as much a pampered pet as I was.
She never seemed to listen or pay attention to anything important. She was literate, could read and write, and figure numbers, but her path was never going to be in the service of scholarship or industry. It was all parties, schemes, romps, picnics, boat rides, clothes – so many clothes – and gossip. The view of her vacuousness was so widespread, we overheard a great deal, much of great interest to Narnia. Mahrem would scoff at the Tarkaans, agents, officials, and financiers who came to discuss Calormene secrets while Lasaraleen was in the room, playing, or pretending to read. “Nothing to worry about! It all goes in one ear and out the other! She’s my beautiful, empty-headed little girl!”
I bristled at how demeaning her own father was but it was as if Lasaraleen didn’t even hear it.
She was also the first member of the ruling Tashbaan class I’d come to know who was genuinely pious. She prayed daily to Zardeenah in the privacy of her rooms and would, at least every week, make an offering to Mother Azaroth Many Faced and leave coins in the fountain outside the goddess’s temple. Though it was not as regular, Lasaraleen also did her duty to Tash Farseeing and Atanta Mother of Horses. Even the Trickster would receive a piece of bread or fruit from her own breakfast place, with whispered words to return blessings threefold to those under his care.
She also never forgot a name or face. She prepared herself before every social engagement, not just that her appearance was perfectly appropriate, but that she knew every person who was likely to be in attendance. She would review aloud when she had last seen them and rehearse what she was going to say. It all sounded charming and was all completely calculated.
Still, knowing all this, I was surprised when her mask finally slipped. We’d returned from a gala at the Palace and it was very late. She had come home alone – Nadide and Mahrem had, as they usually did, each gone to different beds with different people.
I was not permitted in her room at night; Lasaraleen used to try to keep me there in a baby cradle until Nadide forbade it. It had been convenient because then I was free to steal away to make my report to Tumnus or Willa. But tonight, Lasaraleen had dismissed the servants and her parents were gone. She kept pulling me onto her bed and into her lap.
“Oh, Bebek, please stay. You don’t have to go sleep in the trees. You can have your bed again and stay with me. I’m not lonely when you are here.”
As she wouldn’t let go, I didn’t really have a choice. So I sat on her bed and let her groom me, which was nice. The cat never returned the service.
Lasaleen rooted around in her messy clothes chest and removed a book, bound in simple cloth, filled with blank pages. These were sold all over Tashbaan and were similar to the journals and ledgers the bankers and scribes used. Lasaraleen opened it and began counting hash marks on a page. A beribboned lead was hanging from the binding and she entered another mark with a sigh of satisfaction. “See, Bebek, my baby, I’m counting the days until I can give my maiden blood to Zardeenah. And then I can be married!” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And then I can leave this awful place.”
And then she proceeded to record, on a clean page, everything she had done that day. And every single thing that had been said when no one thought she was listening, with notations for who had said it. She talked the whole time to me as she scribbled, some of it barely legible. Much of what she recorded was prattle – what had been served at dinner, the entertainments on the lawn, which princesses she accompanied, the dances the girls had joined, which of the young princes she had spoken to, the schoolwork she had not done.
On another page, she prattled on and dutifully scrawled everything her father had said that day about last week’s 200 casualties suffered in the Western War and that the Tisroc’s army had lost the city of Ulubat to the rebels.
“Isn’t that sad about Ulubat, Bebek? Mama took me there three years ago. It was in a beautiful valley surrounded by mountains that still had snow on them! Snow, can you imagine, Bebek? It’s cold and like an ice that has been spread everywhere and it falls from the sky like rain.”
Lasaraleen then rattled on and scrawled in the page about how the conflict was straining the Calormene treasury and that the Finance Minister Kailash was asking the bankers for a loan secured by the agricultural production of the province of Akarca for a year.
“Akarca produces grains for the western provinces, Bebek. If Minister Kailash gives it all away, I wonder what the rebels will eat?”
Her penmanship was terrible and her spelling worse and I wasn’t sure if Lasaraleen comprehended what she was writing. She was a girl, younger than Queen Lucy. And maybe she listened and remembered without comprehending. Or maybe she had fooled me the way she fooled everyone else.
I wanted to race off to the Narnian Residence and tell Willa that the Western War was going catastrophically poorly for Calormen. The news shouted by the criers every day and the cheerful briefings we’d overheard at Council were lies. I wondered if the Tisroc even knew.
But I sat on the bed with her as she scribbled and rambled. I made soft cooing sounds when she stroked me, and I pet her hair, which also had the effect of undoing her complicated braids. Just before nodding off, she shoved the journal back into the drawer beneath a pile of frippery, silks, and slippers. Looking more closely about her messy room and recalling how she threw a tantrum anytime the slaves tried to tidy it, I saw that she had journals everywhere, stuffed in drawers and on shelves, under cushions and shoes, inside hats, buried in ribbons and silks, all appearing to be the debris and detritus of a girl’s messy life.
It took ten days before I found it and even now wonder if it would have been better if I’d left it buried in Lasaraleen’s scarves. The two of us had made a game of finding her journals – they were hidden in plain sight everywhere in her palatial rooms. And then I’d make a fuss and pretend to try to eat the pages and would calm only when she read to me. Having her interpret the scrawl was much easier than trying to decipher it on my own in the dark whilst she slept.
“So, Bebek, this is how it begins. 'Daddy met with someone today I didn’t know.' Oh! I remember this! He was very rough and stank of fish. I suppose he must have come straight here from the harbour; that was rude of him, wasn’t it, Bebek, to not even stop at the baths? He said he had come from Narnia. This was last month, the fourth day. It was the same day we went to that lovely party Princess Tashiri invited us to, on the river with the musicians playing all along the banks. Do you remember? I know everyone says Narnia is full of evil fel and ruled by a demon in the shape of a Lion who will eat you, but isn’t Narnia such a lovely word, Bebek? Nar-nee-ya. Narnia. Narnia. Very musical, I think. It is so far north that there is probably snow there, too. Papa gave the fishy man money in a leather bag. He never gave his name. I thought that rude but Papa did not mind. There was quite a lot of it and the banker wrote down the amount in Papa’s ledger. It was almost like a market, Bebek. Papa gave the fishy man money and the fishy man gave Papa a pouch with something in it. It, what Papa got, wasn’t heavy or big like the money was. The pouch smelled like dirty wool. I wondered what it was, so after Papa went to dine with Ahoshta Tarkaan, I went back to his office and looked in his lockbox. He keeps the keys in the vase that never has flowers in it. And you know, Bebek, it was a book, very like mine, with the pages all written in and bits of parchment and paper stuck between the pages. It was all about Narnia and life in the Palace and the Kings and Queens. But that writer had very pretty writing. Beautiful. Not like me. My writing, I mean, not me. I’m beautiful, of course. Bebek? Oh, Bebek, darling, what is wrong? Are you well? You seem very unwell. Are you angry? What are you upset about? Oh dear, do put your hair down, and your teeth in. You look quite frightened.”
I was terrified. It took a long time for Lasaraleen to comb and groom me until I was calm enough for her to sleep. I read the entry in her journal again, as best I was able, then shoved it deep into her drawer of underthings.
The house was very dark and quiet. Mahrem and Nadide were still out, separately pursuing their own pleasures. Tonight, though, was more urgent than their dalliances that I kept Willa and Tumnus well-informed of.
I crept through the quiet, dark halls. The servants were snoring in the corners and the guards keeping watch on the villa paid no attention to Lasaraleen’s spoiled pet monkey chattering to herself and moving about the pillared passageways and through the trees that decorated their master’s home. Mahrem’s office wasn’t locked. Why would it be? The house was secured by a vigilant guard, the slaves trusted, and the girl who overheard everything was empty-headed.
I knew this office well. My heart was beating so fast and loudly, I was certain someone would overhear it. But there was only the flapping of bats outside the breezy open window and the distant calls of the jackals at the Tombs. My nerves were jangling so, I nearly upset the vase.
The lockbox was under a heavy panelled and ornate worktable that hid me well. Anyone coming by would not see me, and if they did, I was simply a curious pet monkey playing with something that caught her eye. I’d be chased away with a broom and banished from the house for a day until Lasaraleen threw another tantrum.
The lock was well oiled – everything about Mahrem was – and the metal hinge swung open soundlessly. The box was a new addition to Mahrem’s office. I knew he was pleased with its craftsmanship and security, but I had never seen him use it. There were various papers and a bag of what were probably high value crescents -- I would have to do a full inventory later. Tonight, I wanted only one thing.
I found it in a modest woollen pouch that was obviously of Narnian make. Tumnus had several nearly identical, likely from the same Beruna crafthall. Lasaraleen was right – the scent of the sheep that had given the wool still clung to the bag, and I easily imagined the Dwarf spinner and weaver who had made it. Inside was a journal nearly identical to the ones Lasaraleen filled. It had probably come from the same stall in the Bazaar.
I scanned the journal as quickly as I could; unlike Lasaraleen’s scrawl, I could read the clean, flowing script easily. Dread rose with my panic as I recognised the names, dates, and details meticulously recorded. I had to report this to Willa and Tumnus. Now.
I felt I was going mad. I knew I needed proof and I didn’t dare remove the journal, even for the night. As Lasaraleen had said, there were scraps of paper and parchment stuffed into the journal. I sorted through them quickly, my grim certainty growing with every word I read. A many-folded sheet made me sick with dismay but was what I needed. I refolded it as small as I could make it, returned the journal to its humble pouch, and tried to make all just as I had found it. My hands were shaking, so I again nearly upset the vase.
And then I flew out the office window, climbed the courtyard’s orange tree, and raced down to the Narnia Residence, with ruined lives crumpled in my fist.
A Crow must have been watching because Tumnus and Willa were waiting for me. Tumnus looked to have been roused from his bed. Willa was chewing on a walnut and looked to be wide awake. She’d only been back in Tashbaan for the last week and had probably been prowling the Palace all night.
“Inside. You two, no one else.”
I heard a protesting squawk overhead.
“Of course.” Tumnus didn’t command often, so when he did, he obtained immediate compliance. “Anyone listening, Willa, Zaki, and I require privacy. You shall be informed if and when I say so.”
Willa was already scampering into Tumnus’s inner office. I wondered if the larder or root cellar might be more secure, but by the time I got to the office, Willa was shutting the windows and examining every corner. “Anyone in here needs to get out now.”
She was so official, I felt an overwhelming urge to obey myself.
Tumnus joined us a moment later and firmly shut the door.
“What’s wrong, Zaki? What’s happened?”
The words didn’t come at first. I handed Tumnus the paper, knowing I was delivering horrible news. Cercopes preserve us.
“I found that in Mahrem’s desk this evening. It was in a journal filled with writing that looked just like that, in the same hand. The journal was in a Narnia wool pouch.” I pointed to the bag hanging on a peg behind the door. “Just like that one.” I stopped. Hiccupped with the stress and my tail lashed about with an appalling lack of control. “There’s…. there’s more. But you need to see that first.”
Tumnus solemnly unfolded the paper on the writing table and smoothed it out. His frown deepened.
Willa pulled herself onto the tabletop and studied the paper. “These are housekeeping notes from Cair Paravel. It’s been copied. The original is written daily on the wall of a storeroom in the Palace for the staff and Queen Susan.”
Willa paused and her whiskers twitched violently. “This is part of the royal schedule. It’s the packing list and roster assignment for King Edmund’s trip last month to Archenland.”
Tumnus had gone pale as the paper they were reading. Willa raised her head and stared at me. I felt like I was going to wilt. I wanted the ground to swallow me up. Cercopes give me strength.
“On the return from that trip, King Edmund’s party was ambushed. The King was separated from his escort. His Royal Guard was murdered. He only made it back alive because of the Tiger, Sir Jalur.” Willa’s voice had dropped to an angry hiss.
“The handwriting looks like yours, Tumnus, almost,” I managed. “I know it’s not, but…”
Tumnus sank into the flamingo crocodile chair. “It looks similar, Zaki, because all Fauns of my generation had the same teacher.”
“Hoberry?” Willa was still hissing and the hair was standing up on her back.
Mr. Hoberry was the head housekeeper for Cair Paravel.
“No,” Tumnus said in an anguished whisper. “That’s Noll’s handwriting.”
“The head of the night staff at the Palace,” Willa said.
“And Hoberry’s bondmate,” Tumnus added. He sounded faint, raised his hands to his head, and began squeezing his horns.
“Stop it, Tumnus,” Willa snapped. “Giving yourself a headache isn’t going to help here. What else, Zaki? You said there was more.”
“I found this because Lasaraleen told me. She said that a man who came to Tashbaan by ship met with Mahrem and delivered this journal to him. Mahrem gave him money in exchange, a lot of it from her description. Once she was asleep, I searched Mahrem’s office and found the journal. It’s of Tashbaan make. I recognised it immediately, and the bag it came in was obviously Narnian. I… I suspected…”
“Bribery and a spy,” Willa said bluntly. “Just like Bar.”
“Yes. I read the journal as quickly as I could, but I didn’t dare remove it.”
Willa inspected the page closely, sniffing it. “This page isn’t torn.”
“No. I didn’t need to make that decision. There were notes and scraps stuffed in it. I saw this page and recognised its importance. I compared the notes and journal entries and thought they were in the same hand – but I could be mistaken.”
“Unlikely. Sallowpad and I have suspected something for a while. We knew they would try to insert a spy, same as they did to Lune. You told us they’d tried even with Jadis. We got a warning that came to Queen Lucy through the Wolves in the Witch’s Remnant.” Willa spat out the name given to the Narnians who had been loyal to Jadis, who Queen Lucy had championed and sought to rehabilitate. “I came back to explore a Calormene connection while Sallowpad continued investigating at the Palace. You just saved me a lot of time.”
Willa jumped down from the table and ran to the shut door. “Oh, right. Zaki?” I jumped over to the door and turned the knob for her.
“Harah!” Willa called. “Kangee! Get over here.”
The Crows flapped awkwardly into the room and landed on the table; Tumnus hastily snatched the note away though both Crows looked at it curiously.
“Stop it,” Willa snapped. “I need you two to send the Swifts to the Cair. Tell them to fly to Cair Paravel with the message, Gryphon to Tashbaan.”
I knew the Swifts were the fastest long-distance fliers in Narnia but prone to hysterics. You had to keep messages very simple.
Willa rushed through the rest of her instructions. “Follow the Swifts as fast as you can. Go straight to Queen Susan and the High King. Tell them I have to get back. Can’t wait for overland or boat. I need to be flown. Also tell them to hold all ships and confine all docked crew to the boat. No one docks, no one leaves, until I get there.”
“The Gryphons don’t take passengers unless…” Harah began but Tumnus interrupted her, sounding miserable. “Willa is correct. We must return immediately. By Gryphon-wing. Both of us.”
Willa spun about to stare at him, her tail flipping about like a whip. “You’re coming, too? You sure that’s a good idea, Tumnus?”
“It’s all terrible, Willa. That’s why I have to go.” He handed the paper to me. “Return that immediately. Don’t get caught.”
“But, why?” Kangee asked, sounding plaintive and worried. Harah was watching me fold the paper and squeeze it in my fist.
“There is …” Tumnus began but Willa interrupted him. “It’s urgent enough that Tumnus and I are both willing to dangle from a Gryphon to get back to the Cair. What are you waiting for? We need two Gryphons, a flying rig for him, cage for me, and a quarantine of all ships. Find a Swift and get going.”
“Understood,” Harah sounded curt, even for a Crow. “It’s bad news, Kangee. Real murder and mischief, Rat and Crow. That’s all we need to know for now.”
They both bobbed their heads and flew back out of the room, calling for names I didn’t know. The Swifts were probably down for the night and roosting in the gardens. Willa slammed the door shut.
Tumnus was bent over in the chair, again clutching his horns in his hands, rocking slightly, and muttering what I thought was a prayer to Pan.
“I know you don’t keep much written down,” Willa said. “But burn whatever you have. I’m going to tell all the Birds to fly home in the morning. I have two Rats here, and we have the cook and a couple of other Narnians in Tashbaan.”
I realised I had no idea who else was here and that this had all been deliberate, to keep us ignorant of one another.
“I’m ordering everyone that in two days, they need to be at sea on ships flying Galman or Terebinthian flags. They can report to our Residences there and get home.”
Tumnus pulled his head up. His eyes were red-rimmed. “We’re closing the Residence?”
“Yes. For now. The High King can notify the Tisroc once…” For a moment, Willa looked uncertain. “Well, once we muck out the barn.”
“Am I supposed to be one of those ships, Willa?”
The Rat sat back on her haunches and stared me down. Her next statement, though, shocked me.
“I’d feel better if you weren’t here for a while, Zaki.” Willa, of course, clarified what might have otherwise been a kind sentiment. “If you are discovered, you would be tortured for information, and they would try to ransom you, and I’m not sure what support we’ll be able to give you.”
Rats and Crows were so alike. If I were a Human, I would have laughed.
“I need a few days to cover my exit. And create a reason to get thrown out of the house.” Getting caught sleeping in a baby bed in Lasaraleen’s rooms would probably do it. They wouldn’t punish her, but Nadide would evict me.
I hopped over to the door and opened it again. “May the gods fly with you, Willa. Greet Sallowpad for me.”
She gave me a salute, paw to her head, something I’d seen the Rats do. “We’ll expect you in a few weeks.”
Willa bounded out. I shut the door behind her, then hopped back over to Tumnus. I knew he didn’t want me to groom his fur, but I put my hand on his knee and softly stroked him, as Lasaraleen had done to me. “I’m sorry, Tumnus. I don’t know Mr. Hoberry well and have never met Mr. Noll. But they are both obviously dear to you and to each other. And one or the other is probably a traitor to Narnia.” I wondered if this was related to the assassination attempt so many years ago. These were questions Sallowpad and Willa would no doubt investigate.
He sniffed and pulled a handkerchief from the vest he was wearing. “Something Queen Lucy taught me.” He delicately blew his nose and let out a deep sigh. “The hand is Noll’s. Hoberry is too kind for this business. Noll, well, he is older and was in the Army before he joined the Cair Paravel staff. With my recommendation.”
With a sharpness I was surprised to hear, he added, “I’m surprised you did not first accuse me.”
“What?! No! Never!”
Tumnus stared at the ruinous paper crumpled in my fist. I didn’t understand his bitter smile. “Ask Sallowpad to explain it to you sometime. You should know it.”
He took a deep breath. “Go. You should not be away this long. Your role in this, well, you won’t be publicly honoured, but their Majesties will know. And protect yourself, Zaki. You’re good at that, I know. But you would be deeply mourned if anything happened.”
I smoothed the fur on his knee. “I don’t know Pan, but may he give you what you need for the days to come.”
“Cercopes preserve you, Zaki.”
It wasn’t yet dawn; the great horns trumpeting the opening of the City gates had not yet sounded. The morning birds, though, had begun to stir. With a heavy heart, I raced back to the villa. I wondered at the shadows that chased me. Or that protected me? I was too tired, too sad, and too paranoid. My gods were far away; perhaps Lasaraleen's gods would give me courage and safe passage.
Nothing hindered me, and all was exactly as I’d left it. Neither Nadide nor Mahrem had yet returned. I could smell the bread baking in the outdoor ovens, so the cooks were up. I returned the traitor’s note to the journal, more creased than it was before, locked it all up, returned the key to the wobbly vase, and crept back to Lasaraleen’s room.
She was soundly asleep, so I sat next to her, stroked her hair, and felt sadness that I was leaving her. For now, at least. I thought I would return. I just could not see the manner or timing of it.
“May your goddesses see the worth in you that others do not, Tarkheena. May you escape this house and not become imprisoned in another as wife to one who does not deserve you.”
A breeze fluttered through her rooms, the curtains billowed, and for a moment, in the dark before dawn, I saw a veiled woman, a pale, black-robed girl with a silver sickle at her throat, and a rat. I blinked and they were gone but I knew my prayer had been answered. The gods were abroad this night. I left Lasaraleen in the hands of Mother Azaroth Many-Faced, Zardeenah, Protector of Maidens, and their brother, the Trickster. The Rat god was not usually a patron of girls in Tashbaan, but the Trickster always appreciated a good joke.
I curled up next to Lasaraleen and petted her hair. I woke when Nadide started screaming at me and the housekeeper drove me out of the room with a broom. I didn’t look back, even as I heard Lasaraleen crying for Bebek to please come back.
Zaki is presumed to be Macaca fascicularis, the "crab-eating Macaque."
Cercopes, who Zaki invokes often, are the Kerkopes, or Monkey-men, and tricksters in the Greek pantheon.