Invoking Tash after the battle

[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's Ramblings. Rabadash makes a big deal about being decended from Tash. He's not the only to have such ancestry, though.]
[Underlined text is taken from the original book. I'm trying out a new thing to see how it looks as I've traditionally used bold italic for that.]
[Reverted to using bold italic for text directly taken from the original.]

"I know you. You are the foul fiend of Narnia. You are the enemy of the gods. Learn who I am, horrible phantasm. I am descended from Tash, the inexorable, the irresistible."

"As am I!" shouted Aravis.

All heads turned to Aravis, Aslan's with an eyebrow raised.

"You have come into a foreign land, made war upon it, and lost," Aravis said, walking toward Rabadash as she did. "You are now counted amongst the battle spoils and can be dealt with as the victors please. The only claim you might have laid is that you are the son of the Tisroc, may he live forever as his son is an unworthy successor, but that claim was eradicated when you set out to abduct, with the intent of raping, the ruler of another country: High Queen Susan of Narnia, ally to Archenland."

Aravis and Rabadash were now scarcely more than an arm's length apart.

"I am still the descendant of Tash, traitor," Rabadash spat, "and if you side with these barbarians then the curse of Tash is upon you. Lightning in the shape of scorpions shall be rained on you."

"No," Aravis said firmly. "No, I call upon our common ancestor --Tash, the inexorable, the irresistible-- to deal with you. If you wish to bring our gods into this land then let them come. If you wish to act as though we are still within Calormen then you will answer to the authority that can lawfully destroy even a Tisroc.

"Tash, inexorable and irresistible, I, Aravis bint Kidrash ibn Rishti ibn Kidrash ibn Ilsombreh ibn Ardeeb al-Tash, call on you to judge Rabadash,"

"Judge me!?" Rabadash shouted.

From the clear blue sky a bolt of lightning in the shape of a scorpion descended, followed almost immediately by a bone rattling crack. It was so brilliant every mortal was dazzled for a moment, and when they blinked the visible world back into existence they beheld a figure floating above where the lightning had struck the earth.

It seemed to be made of smoke rather than of solid flesh. Its shape evoked, rather than resembled, creatures more familiar. A head that called to mind some bird that rent flesh with its beak, a body not entirely unlike that of Dionysus or his ilk, arms that would not have been out of place on a satyr, though four in number, long slender fingers that brought forth thoughts of the toadstool people, each finger tipped in a wicked claw that called to mind the talons of a hippogriff.

That hippogriff talons would never fit on the fingers of a toadstool person, and the hands of a toadstool person did not belong on the arms of a satyr did not seem to matter. The smoky figure was a model of perfection, looking at it one couldn't imagine it being shaped in any other way. Every aspect of it was clearly exactly as it should be, indeed the only way it could possibly be.

Rabadash was first to speak. "Tash, inexorable / inescapable, show these barbarians the price for acting against your scion!"

Aravis looked on with a satisfied smirk.

Tash and Aslan looked to each other. Some wordless conversation took place between the two gods, then Aslan bowed his head and took a step back.

Many there assembled gasped. Neither Narnian nor Archenlander expected to see Aslan simply back down. While he had surrendered once before, that was after parlay and with clear concessions made to him in exchange.

Tash approached Rabadash, and only then did those watching realize how much larger he was than a man. He was no giant, yet adult humans seemed as children when he stood near them.

"Rabadash," Tash said, his words seeming to echo forth from within the skulls of those looking on, "I have come. Do you, mortal who shares my blood, truly wish for me to act regarding this matter, or were your words empty?"

"I truly wish you act, Tash, the inexorable, the irresistible," Rabadash said.

"And you," Tash said, turning to Aravis, "Aravis, also of my blood and devotee of Zardeenah, who have called me forth into a foreign land, wish me to act regarding this matter."

"I do," Aravis said. "Prince Rabadash has refused local judgement, and far away armies may support his refusal, but judgement must be rendered. He, and his father across the sands, must both accept the judgment of Tash, the inescapable.

"I believe this is fitting, my lord," Aravis said as she knelt down and bowed her head, in a show of submission to the will of Tash.

"Very well," Tash said, "mortals of my blood."

Tash returned his attention to Rabadash.

"You have annoyed me, future Tisroc," Tash said, and a feeling of dread radiated from him until it seeped into everyone's very bones. "I will not bend my will to your command and attack those you were unable to defeat yourself.

"No, I see no reason to make war on strange lands with strange gods," Tash paused for a moment, "but I do see reason to deal with you."

Rabadash seemed to shrink in fear for a moment, then the moment passed and he exploded in outrage. But no sound came from his shouting mouth.

"You have used your voice unwisely, so I have taken it from you," Tash said, almost casually.

The feeling of dread deepened, now accompanied by a growing horror.

"I do not think this is enough," Tash said. Then he looked around as if noticing his surroundings for the first time. His eyes settled on the donkey, which Shasta hugged tightly in sudden fear. "Yes," Tash said, then looked back to Rabadash and added, "that will do nicely.

"Strange, inexplicable, undeniable, arbitrary," Tash continued; "it will do nicely indeed."

Tash touched a talon to Rabadash. Rabadash seemed to turn into smoke, which dispersed into a cloud and then reformed into the shape of a donkey. When he became solid again, Rabadash was indistinguishable from an actual donkey.

Seeing Rabadash as another of its kind and taking no heed of Tash, the donkey gave a bray of greeting and tried to approach Rabadash. Shasta, recovering from the fear that Tash would do something to the donkey, loosened his hold on the donkey but pet it in a way that meant "stay".

Shasta pointed to Rabadash and said, "Bad donkey," to the donkey, then stroked the donkey and said, "Good donkey," to the donkey.

Some of those standing very close to Rabadash, Aravis, and Tash thought that Tash made a slight sound of amusement, though none would ever be able to agree on what that sound had been. Neither Rabadash nor Aravis ever commented on it. Tash has, likewise, maintained silence on the matter.

"You have annoyed me," Tash said again, beginning to move in a casual, random way (which some would call pacing, while others maintain that one's feet must touch the ground for that), "but I am not without my share of mercy. When you stand before my altar in Tashbaan at the Great Autumn Feast this year, I will return to you your form.

"As for your voice, which you used to call Aravis, descendant of mine, a traitor," Tash said, "it shall be returned to you when you pay tribute to her patron, Zardeenah."

Tash looked about, this time his eyes settling on Aslan. The sense of a smile, one at having an idea that pleased oneself, was conveyed to all who could see Tash's face, though Tash obviously did not smile. A beak cannot create a smile. Yet all those who could see his face felt as though Tash had smiled.

"For all the remaining years of your life you will give Zardeenah a tithe, delivered to her temple on the longest night of the year, however on the longest night of this year you will do more. You will give a tenth of all that you own to the temple of Zardeenah. When you have done this, your voice will return to you.

"Do not worry that you will be taken as livestock or slaughtered for food," Tash said. "I have placed a mark upon you that ensures none shall hinder your return to Tashbaan. You will come to no harm, save that which you bring upon yourself.

"As to how you will make the journey," Tash said, "I care not. Perhaps you should throw yourself on the mercy of foreign powers," Tash glanced to the present royalty, "or foreign gods," Tash glanced to Aslan. "It matters not how, but if you wish to regain your former form, get there you shall. My altar in Tashban at the Great Autumn Feast. Remember this. Remember also that you have an appointment with the Tashbaan Temple of Zardeenah on the longest night of the year.

"Oh," Tash stopped moving about, "there is one more thing. Tash locked eyes with Rabadash, "there are limits to my mercy. Once you have regained your form and voice, you will never again venture more than two parasangs from my temple in Tashban. That is the extent of my mercy."

Tash turned his back on Rabadash and faced Aravis. Placing the first non-opposable talon on his lower left arm under her chin, he lifted her head so her eyes met his own. Then he addressed her, "You have not annoyed me. You have, however, called on me. A payment must be made. It is simple, and it is small, yet it is as great as any task one can be given.

"You will ensure that any children you may have know the ways and gods of your homeland. Likewise for any children, not your own, that you may raise."

Tash looked to the south, and his smoke-like form dissipated on the winds.

-

Ok, that was way longer than I expected. Original concept was more like:

Rabadash: I'm a descendant of Tash!
Aravis: Well, so am I.
Rabadash: Whatever, you're not awesome like me.
Aravis: Why don't we have Tash decide what to do? Then you can't make such a fuss.
Tash: Hey, I'm here.
Aslan: The jerk's yours, do what you will.
Tash: Rabadash, I'm the creepy god. You could have called on any of the gods of Calormen and you picked me: the creepy god who doles out death and punishment. So, you know what I'm going to do? Creepy punishment.
Rabadash: Woo!
Tash: To you.
Rabadash: What!?
Tash: Be happy it wasn't creepy death.

-

[other parts of this story can be found here.]

Aravis and Aslan after the battle of Anvard (Matter of Aravis: Susan Era)

Ok, so, this is the point where I say that I've done nowhere near enough setup to actually have parts near the ending make sense as a result of how very fragmentary this all has been, so:

• Aravis dealt with the slave by freeing her, buying her a donkey and some food, and letting her set off to return to her non-Narnian homeland, which she had always wanted to do.
   
• Aravis was attacked by a regular lion.  Instead of thinking it was a regular lion and having it turn out to be Aslan, they thought it was Aslan and it turned out to be a regular old deadly cat.
  
  It was a confluence of coincidence and bad judgement.  Right when they officially left Calormen there was this majestic lion that seemed to be waiting for them, silhouetted against the sky with the sun lighting up its mane.  It seemed to be divine, it was just a cat.  Shasta, Hwin, and Aravis all thought that they were being welcomed to by Aslan.
  
  (Approaching a random lion was the single stupidest thing our main three ever did.)
  
  That Aravis was the only member of the party harmed was sheer luck, that she wasn't hurt worse was a (presumably secular) miracle.
  
  Bree was only right that it wasn't Aslan because he was wrong about the nature of Aslan (who he assumed wasn't a lion.)
  
  While events have forced them to move passed it in general, when it does come up Aravis, Hwin, and Shasta aren't really in a good headspace.  Each one blames themselves for what happened and thinks less than complimentary things about their own intelligence and decision making capacity.
  
  Bree is so egotistical he's completely protected from such thoughts, plus he's quick to point out that he was right: it wasn't Aslan and approaching lions leads to bad things.  Who cares if some insignificant non-Narnian human got hurt?  He was right and that's what matters. In other words, Bree is acting exactly how you'd expect Lewis-Bree to act in this non-Lewis situation.
   
• Aravis rode Hwin into battle, because of course she did, and was instrumental in Shasta's not-dying.  (The outcome of the battle itself depended more on the native Achenlanders and the Narnians.)  Thus she and Hwin are at Anvard.

Got all that?

Good.

* *
* * *
* *

Aravis and Aslan walked together around the outskirts of the bloodied ground. The dead were being buried, homes were being repaired, and enemies were being guarded, but there was little to do for a girl who didn't know their funerary rituals, wasn't an artisan, and was a foreigner from the same nation as the enemies. For some reason the strange god had decided to grace her with his presence, but for a long while she found she had nothing to say.

Thus they walked together in silence for a time. Finally Aravis realized she had a question the god might be able to answer.

"Do you know everything?" Aravis asked.

"That depends on what you mean by 'everything'," Aslan said, "it is impressive how many different things that word can mean."

"When I started my journey I had a companion, but we parted ways when her freedom was secured at Azim Balda," Aravis said. "I have hoped since then that she has been safe and successful on her journey, and feared that she might be dead or worse."

"I cannot tell what will become of her," Aslan said, "but at this moment she is well: still free and still traveling toward her homeland. As you must know, she is quite skilled in many crafts. Thus far she has consistently been able to earn enough to fund her continued journey."

"That is good to know," Aravis said. "I thank you."

"I daresay she has fared better than you," Aslan said, "though you are recovering from your injuries well."

Aravis shrugged. "Now I know not to assume that every lion I meet is you."

"I do feel guilty," Aslan said. "At the time I was far to the west mediating a dispute between an Eagle and a Dragon."

"You were at the Tree?" Aravis asked with awe.

"A different Eagle and a different Dragon," Aslan said; "there was no Squirrel in sight."

"Oh."

"I can't help but think it would have been better to let that matter wait," Aslan said, "and instead pay more attention to who was doing what in my name. Then I would have realized your situation and could have spared you much pain."

"I would have accepted the pain a hundredfold to know what happened to my friend," Aravis, "so if you must feel guilt for not saving my friends and I from our own foolishness, know that you have more than made up for it."

"You have helped my people a great deal," Aslan said. "It is not given to me to know what would have happened if your message had not reached Achenland and Narnia, but I very much doubt it would have been been good.

"I shall tell Zardeenah Lady of the Night that you have earned my favor, Aravis descendant of Tash, and ask that she look after your friend on her journey," Aslan said. "Whether Zardeenah will see fit to provide such aid is something only she will know."

"Thank you, Aslan son of the Faraway Emperor," Aravis said.

They returned to silence and continued walking together.

[Index]

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Lewis uses things that seem to be clear Norse references a few times (most obvious being the gold chess pieces in Prince Caspian), and Aravis is knowledgeable about foreign religions, so I figured, "Why not stick in an indirect Ratatoskr reference?"

I'm not sure what I'm going to do with Tash, but Aravis says she's a descendant of Tash, so she gets that title.

A bow that will not easily miss

This will only make sense if you read Ana Mardoll's Rabadash's Ride and realize that I'll be reworking that into one of the varied stories bashed into The Horse and His Boy but rewritten so that it doesn't use the canon characters.  Thus I have a pre-Jadis human queen of Narnia in the role filled by Susan in that version.  Thus I made up the name Ravenwit.

-

The following winter Queen Ravenwit met with Father Christmas, to give up the bow she'd used since her teenage years.

"Are you sure?" he asked her.

"Whenever I try to use it, in spite of all the positive memories it was a part of, I just think about the day when--"

"I understand," he said, and took the offered bow.

"Thank you for not making me explain," Raven said.

"To have been with you so long, in such magical places," Father Christmas said, as he examined the bow, "it has picked up much from your skill. It will not easily miss."

"And so should be given to one who can be trusted to use it responsibly and is in dire need that is too immediate to allow for proper training," she said. "I trust you will make sure it eventually finds its way into hands into such a person."

"I will, my queen," he said, then bowed, boarded his sleigh, and rode off.

We're Leaving -- Matter of Aravis

[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's Ramblings, but it would have gone with this post if not for the fact comments are long since closed.]

Shasta stroked the donkey as the Horse insisted that he, a creature that had just dismissed human legs as silly things, would somehow make "a fine rider" out of Shasta, someone who rode primarily by making use of his silly human legs.

Then the Horse got to saying useful things, "We mustn't start until those two in the hut are asleep. In the meantime we can make our plans. My Tarkaan was riding north on a secret mission."

For a moment Shasta's heart leapt at the idea of secrets in the north. Then practical thoughts put an end to that, "So we should probably go south."

"I think not," the Horse said, "see he thinks I'm dumb and witless like his other horses. Now if I really were, the moment I got loose I'd go back home to my stable or paddock: back to his palace which is two days journey south. That's where he'll look for me. He'd never dream of me going north on my own."

"But you won't be on your own," Shasta said. "I'll be with you and Arsheesh knows that I've always wondered about what lay to the north."

"Of course you have," the Horse said. "That's because of the blood that's in you. I'm sure you're of true northern stock."

Shasta averted his gaze in hopes the Horse wouldn't see him rolling his eyes.

"When we both go missing," Shasta said, "and Arsheesh tells the Tarkaan that I've always wondered about the north, the Tarkaan will think I took you north."

"No," the Horse said. "He'll think you tried to take me north, someone who has only ever ridden a donkey," the contempt returned, Shasta pet the donkey, "could never control a horse such as myself. We'll leave a trail leading south, there's a stream not too far from here where we can turn around without leaving a trail."

Shasta had an idea that he thought was better.

"Or," Shasta said, "you could go south on your own, I could ride north on the donkey, and since war horses are so much more expensive than human slaves--"

Shasta's idea was detailed and he was a bit of proud of himself for coming up with it all at once. He'd make it look like the horse escaped through his own incompetence. Considering how often he really was incompetent Arsheesh would have no trouble believing that. Then his theft of the donkey would look like him trying to escape punishment.

Arsheesh would never be able to catch up to the donkey on foot, and the Tarkaan would be pointed south while struggling to find a way to catch up with a runaway horse that wasn't weighed down by a rider.

Shasta never got to say any of that, because the Horse cut him off:

"The donkey is a dumb and witless beast, why would bother doing anything with it?"

"We are taking the donkey," Shasta said.

"It will only slow us down," the Horse said. "Leave it here."

"I'm taking the donkey," Shasta said. "If you don't like it you can go your own way and explain to everyone you meet why you're a horse with no human."

The horse made a sound of frustration for which there are no letters, then said, "Check to see that they're asleep."

Shasta crept back to the home he'd be leaving. There was no light. No signs of anyone awake. He heard the familiar snores of Arsheesh. He didn't hear anything else, and he didn't want to risk going inside, the door and the floor and the . . . everything, weren't exactly silent.

He had to just believe that the Tarkaan was asleep based on the utter lack of evidence he was awake.

Shasta returned to the Horse and the donkey and said, "They're asleep. Tell me what you need, and hope we can get it quietly."

The donkey had a bridle, but its back was always bare. It had never had a saddle or bags. Shasta didn't know anything about them or how to put them on. While the Horse tried to be helpful, the process of getting it ready was long and difficult. Also, it refused to answer Shasta's questions about why it should want a saddle or the contents of its saddle bags.

It did, at least, make some conversation beyond, "Looser," "Tighter," "Higher," and "Lower," when Shasta asked it how it had come to be in Calormen.

"Kidnapped," the Horse said. For a moment it seemed like it was going to leave it at a single word, but then it added, "Or stolen, or captured -- whichever you like to call it. I was only a foal at the time. My mother warned me not to range to the southern slopes, into Archenland and beyond, but I wouldn't heed her. She also talked about Aslan as though he were a real flesh and blood lion, as if she'd seen him in her lifetime. Gods obviously aren't like that, so I thought she was just a foolish old Mare.

"I should have known that her practical advice would be more grounded in reality than her theology, but I thought if she were wrong about one thing she might as well be wrong about all things. By the Lion's Mane I have paid for that folly."

Of course, Shasta had no idea who Aslan was, but he had other questions.

"Why didn't you tell someone you weren't like other horses?" Shasta asked. "Cry out, 'I'm a Narnian Talking Horse and shouldn't be treated like this!'"

"That's worked so well for the talking human slaves of Calormen," the Horse said bitterly. "The true reason, though, is that I'm not so foolish as to think that might have helped. The ones who captured me knew I could talk; I did cry out when I was first captured. But in Calormen, a talking animal would, at best, be a curiosity shown at fairs, guarded so well I could never hope to escape.

"That would be the best I could hope for. More likely the Calmorene who heard me speak would react with superstition over greed and destroy me out of fear I was a demon. Many in this land know that Talking Animals exist, but they can't seem to accept that we could be people rather than devils."

"But surely someone--"

"It feels like you're finished," the Horse said. "It's time for us to go."

* * *

It wasn't long before Shasta and the donkey had reached the top of the hill that marked the northern edge of the world Shasta had known. There was no great secret, just grassy plains that seemed to go on forever.

"I say!" is how the Horse announced its presence, causing Shasta to flinch. "What a place for a gallop."

"I have no idea what that is," Shasta said.

"Horses have different gaits," the Horse said. "Just like humans run differently than they walk. A gallop is our fastest gait; a donkey's too, I believe. It's not just for when we're in a hurry, it's also for throwing away all cares and just moving."

"Won't that wear you out?" Shasta asked.

"If I did it all the time," the Horse said, "yes."

"Well . . ." Shasta realized that their introduction had lacked something very important. "What do I call you?"

"My name is Bree-hinny-brinny-hoohy-hah," the Horse said, though one must understand that human alphabets don't properly capture the sounds a Horse is like to make when speaking its name.

"I don't think I can say that," Shasta said.

"I believe, when I was a foal, it was said that humans would have an easier time calling me, 'Bree'," the Horse said.

"That I can say," Shasta said.

"And what shall I call you?" Bree asked.

"I'm called Shasta."

"That I can say," Bree said. "Now, as to what a gallop is, let me show you."

Bree took off across the grassy plains.

Shasta leaned forward on the donkey, right hand gently touching its neck, and said, "Just go."

The donkey thought for a moment, like any other donkey it didn't understand human words per se, but it had spent a lifetime with Shasta, it understood "go" it understood tone of voice, and it understood the feel of Shasta's body. It also understood that the Horse that had been beside them a moment ago was speeding away.

Ordinarily it wouldn't have gone faster than a trot without some kind of great incentive or threat, but everything in how Shasta felt where and when the two touched this night gave off a strong sense of importance. There was no apparent threat or reward, but Shasta resonated with importance and, whatever that meant, it was probably worth keeping the strange Horse in sight for.

Shasta galloped for the first time.

-

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The Horse can talk -- The Matter of Aravis

[This was supposed to go up yesterday, fucking auto-posting-schedule-thing failed me]
[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's Ramblings, but it would have gone with this post if not for the fact comments are long since closed.]
[You know the content notes for these by now, slavery, child abuse, lack of self worth, stuff like that.]

The donkey was laying down, as it always did when a horse was in the stable.  The donkey knew that it meant Shasta would be sleeping with it, and so it made it easy on Shasta, whom the donkey knew could not sleep standing up.

That was where Shasta found the donkey when he ran into the stable.

Shasta moved to the ground near the donkey in something that was part lunge and part collapse and threw his arms around the donkey's neck.  For a time Shasta just hugged the donkey and cried.

When he finally could manage it he said, "Father is-- I mean Arsheesh, apparently he isn't my father, is . . . he's selling me.  Right now.  He's selling me to the one who owns the horse.  The man, Arsheesh calls him Tarkaan, said when he came that he only needed to stay the night so in the morning I'll be taken away from you.

"I don't want to lose you," Shasta said, he kissed the coarse fur on the donkey's neck, then cried even more.

"If I'm lucky this Tarkaan will be good, I'll have a better life, and . . ." Shasta buried his face his the fur of the donkey's neck.  It was a while before he spoke again: "Just, just hope that I'm happy when you think of me and--"

"You won't be."

Shasta's entire body jolted.

"Who said that?" he asked releasing the donkey and trying to sound brave.

"I did."

Whoever it was was right behind him.  He stood slowly and turned around. "There's an armed man in the house and--" having turned completely around Shasta saw no one. "Where are you!?"

"I'm right here."

The horse's mouth had moved.  The sound had come from the direction of the horse.  There was no space for anyone to be hiding behind the horse saying those words.  No sense was made.

"What are you?" Shasta asked, trying at once to hide his fear and to avoid offending this creature.

"I'm a Horse, obviously," the Horse said.

"Horses don't talk," Shasta said uneasily.  Then he felt comfort, the donkey had stood up too and gently rubbed against his left side.

"The unthinking animals you're used to here don't talk," the Horse said, "but where I come from nearly all the animals talk."

Without even thinking Shasta had rested his left elbow on the donkey and was stroking it with his left hand.

"Where do you come from?"

"Narnia," the horse said.  "The happy land of Narnia—Narnia of the heathery mountains and the thymy downs, Narnia of the many rivers, the plashing glens, the mossy caverns and the deep forests ringing with the hammers of the Dwarfs.  Oh the sweet air of Narnia!  An hour’s life there is better than a thousand years in Calormen."

Then it made a whinny that sounded a lot like a sigh.

Shasta's first thought was to ask where Narnia was, but then he remembered the first thing the horse had said to him.

"What did you mean: I won't be?"

"You won't be happy," the Horse said. "My master is bad.  Not too bad to me, for a war horse costs too much--"

"You're a war horse?" Shasta asked with a kind of awe.  There really were wars?  There were enough people in the world to have wars?  There were special horses for wars?

"Yes, and we mustn't waste time with idle questions," the Horse answered.  "Human slaves are not expensive, and so it would be better for you to die tonight than to be a human slave in his house tomorrow."

Shasta didn't respond.

"Things will get much worse for you if he becomes your master."

"Things things really can be worse?" Shasta asked.  It felt like all his strength had left him and he'd collapse right there."

"Yes," the Horse said, "they can."

"I-- I have to go," Shasta said, "I have to leave."

"Yes, you had better do that," the Horse said, "but why not leave with me?"

"You're going to run away?"

"All of these years I have been a slave to foreign humans, pretending to be dumb and witless like their horses," the Horse said.  "I've been waiting for a chance to escape and this is the best chance for both of us.

"You see, if I run away without a rider any human who sees me will say, 'Stray Horse,' and be after me as quick as he can.  With a human I've got a chance to get through.  That's where you can help me.  On the other hand you can't get very far on those two silly legs of yours --what absurd legs humans have-- without being overtaken.  But on me you can outdistance any other horse in this country.  That's where I can help you.  By the way, I suppose you know how to ride?"

"Oh yes, of course," said Shasta.  "I've ridden the donkey many--"

"Ridden the wha-ha-ha-ha!?" the Horse said with such contempt he was unable to finish the final word.

Shasta looked at the donkey and said, "Don't listen to him."

"It can't understand me," the Horse said.

"You've ridden the donkey," the Horse said, again speaking with contempt.  "In other words: you can't ride.  That's a drawback.  I'll have to teach you as we go along.  If you can't ride, can you fall?"

Shasta was confused by the question, "Anyone can fall."

"I mean can you fall, get up again without crying, mount again, and fall again, all without being afraid of falling."

"I-- I'll try," Shasta said.

"Poor little beast," the Horse said in a gentler tone, "I forgot you're only a foal."

---

While I reserve the title "Bree the Liar" for a horse that will be like the Bree described in gehayi's wonderful rendition, Bree here is lying his ass off. He's not a war horse, he's not the fastest horse in Calormen, and the Tarkaan isn't notably horrible. He's not a saint either --he lives in a slave holding culture and isn't exactly hosting abolitionist strategy meetings-- but Shasta's life would have been much improved had the sale gone through.

(And I also take issue with Bree's claim that nearly all the animals in Narnia talk.  Maybe it's just me, but I really don't see that working for an ecosystem.)

Bree happens to be a slave who is completely willing to lie if it'll help him escape.  Which, I think, is a completely reasonable position to take.  Mind you this Bree is still an asshole, but that's complete separate from lying to Shasta as part of his escape attempt here.

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Reflecting on being sold -- The Matter of Aravis, Susan Era

[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's Ramblings, but it would have gone with this post if not for the fact comments are long since closed.]
[You know the content notes for these by now, slavery, child abuse, lack of self worth, stuff like that.]

Part of Shasta thought that he should feel relieved. All of these years spent thinking he was broken for not being able to love his father, shouldn't some weight be lifted with the knowledge that Arsheesh wasn't his father? That Arsheesh obviously couldn't love Shasta very much if he was willing to sell him? But there was no relief. Nothing felt better. He still felt like he was deficient for not loving Arsheesh, but now he felt even worse because he also knew he wasn't loved.

He was just something Arsheesh had taken from the sea, something Arsheesh was now going to sell. Arsheesh took things from the sea and sold them every day. So what if Shasta were more valuable than the usual fish? He was still just a thing.

A thing that would soon have a new owner.

What was slavery even like? Was this slavery? Slaves did work. He did work. Maybe this was slavery. But if he was never good enough for Arsheesh, how could he hope to be good enough for this stranger, this Tarkaan? True, Shasta wasn't entirely sure what a Tarkaan was, but it was obviously something Arsheesh recognized as being above “fisherman”.

Then again, if this were slavery, perhaps things wouldn't get worse. Perhaps they'd stay the same, perhaps they'd even get better. Perhaps the Tarkaan had many slaves and so no one of them had to do as much as Shasta had had to do for Arsheesh. If there were less work in need of doing, perhaps Shasta would be able to do some of it well. Arsheesh didn't always beat him, so he must be good some of the time. If he weren't so constantly occupied maybe he could be good more of the time. Maybe even enough of the time that beatings would be rare and far between.

Perhaps, for once, Shasta could actually feel like he was doing things right.

Or perhaps that was a stupid thought.

And then there were dreams about things that Shasta had never dared to believe. He still didn't believe them, but he allowed himself indulgence. One of the the stories the traveler from the north had told was of a slave made free for doing a great deed. Some feat in battle that saved his master or something. Another told of a slave that was discovered by its family and freed.

If slaves were just humans like Shasta, and Shasta wasn't the child of Arsheesh . . . Shasta could be anyone. Maybe the reason that Shasta had barely been to the village, and always was left with the donkey when village men came to visit was that he would be recognized.

Then he could be free and . . . what did that even mean? Shasta knew that freedom was good, but he'd always thought he'd had it. If he hadn't, then what was it? Did it mean not being forced to work all the time?

Could it be like the people in those stories, the ones who had cushions and cool days and warm nights and didn't even have to walk because slaves would carry them where they needed to go?

Shasta had always dreamed of being one of those people, even though he didn't believe they were real. Dreams weren't real either.

Shasta sighed.

None of this really mattered. He'd been sold. Arsheesh obviously didn't love him, he still felt just as bad about everything he'd felt bad about before, and after sleeping with the donkey he'd be taken away to an uncertain future.

And Shasta had learned something about uncertainty: it was never good. If you weren't sure what would happen, whatever happened would be bad.

He should just go to the stable, try not to think of any of this, and snuggle up next to--

The donkey!

If he belonged to the stranger, and the donkey stayed with Arsheesh, then they might never see each other again.

Shasta ran to the stable.

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Setting a price -- The Matter of Aravis

[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's Ramblings, though really ought to go with this post.]
[content note: mention of child abuse, slavery, starvation]

Shasta returned from the stable and sat by the door. Men did not visit Arsheesh with any great frequency, but it had happened often enough that Shasta had found the most comfortable position to sit in, and a favorite crack to place his ear against.

Arsheesh spoke the way he did when anticipating a particularly good day for fishing or selling. It was how he spoke when he anticipated a windfall with greed in his heart, but Shasta didn't know that any more than he knew there were villages besides the one that lay about a mile to the south.

The words Shasta heard were, ". . . what price could induce your servant, poor though he is, to sell into slavery his only child and his own flesh?"

The truth was that Shasta knew almost nothing of slavery.

Some of Arsheesh's guests had mentioned slaves when talking about this or that, and the traveler from the north had told stories of people who had unbelievable numbers of slaves, but that was all he knew. The part of the village he had been to was visited only by free men and slaves so trusted they had been rewarded with the trappings of freedom. Shasta didn't even realize he had ever seen a slave, and he didn't know where they came from.

For him they had been like some sort of magical being, one he wished he had access to when he spent his days working with barely any pause.

The idea he might become a slave shocked Shasta so much that his mind seemed to stop.

Arsheesh continued, and Shasta heard, but his thoughts and his feelings were numbed to the point he barely noticed that he heard. "Has not one of the poets said, 'The bond between father and son is stronger than folded steel, and one's offspring more precious than water in an endless desert."

"One of the poets has said that," the man replied, "however the selfsame poet also said, 'It is more difficult to hide the truth than it is to conceal the tallest tower or the greatest army.' Not his best work, perhaps, but he did say it."

"My lord?"

"The boy looks nothing like you," the man replied, "his name gives me pause, and I have seen the mark of your 'bond' upon his 'precious' skin."

"It is true that I have been strict with him, but one of the--"

"The poets said many things, and imparted great wisdom, but none of the things the poets have said will excuse you if you fail to tell me the truth. How did you come across a boy so obviously foreign --boreal*-- so far from our northern border?"

"It is true that he is not of my flesh," Arsheesh said --Shasta knew he should feel something, but no feeling came-- "but I have raised him as my own and--"

"You are trying to drive up the price," the man said sharply. "Tell me his origin."

"I have never taken a wife, I knew that I would never be able to afford one, and so believed that I would be without child forever, but one day, the year after the Tisroc, may he be blessed with long life, came to the throne --beginning his august and beneficent reign-- the gods delivered to me a child."

"The gods work in myriad ways, many poets have said," the man said, "How did they deliver you this child?"

"The fish were scarce that year and I was forced to travel further than my humble boat could be wisely taken," Asheesh said. "Many times I found myself at the mercy of the southern current. On one day I saw another boat caught in a similar fate. When I approached the boat I found a dead man and the boy, then a baby. It was fortunate that he was old enough to eat, for there was no sign milk --only water-- and the man had clearly starved himself to keep the baby fed."

"Truly it must have been the doing of the gods," the man said, "if you came across such a scene in the short time between when the man starved to death and the babe did the same."

"I took the child both as a blessing from the gods and because they command that one befriend the destitute," Asheesh said, "but was forced to leave the boat and the dead man in the southern current."

"Before the gods delivered the boy to you, they entrusted him to the man who starved," the man said. "There is no more reason to believe that they wish the boy to stay with you, than there is to believe that they wished the boy to stay with him. It takes only a glance to see that you've had ten times the cost of his bread in labor because you took him. Perhaps it is the will of the gods that someone else benefit from the boy."

"You yourself have wisely said," Arsheesh said, "that the boy’s labor has been, to me, of inestimable value. This must be taken into account in fixing the price. For if I sell the boy I must undoubtedly either buy or hire another to do his work."

Wait, what? Shasta thought.

"Fifteen should be a reasonable price," the man said.

"Fifteen!" Arsheesh cried out in indignation that didn't seem to be fully real, "Fifteen! For the prop of my old age and the delight of my eyes! Do not mock my gray beard, Tarkaan though you be. My price is seventy."

I'm a dead fish, Shasta thought, for he recognized this as the same kind of argument Arsheesh had over the price of this or that fish in the village.

Shasta walked away from the door, stumbling a bit and feeling numb.

-

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-

* Yeah, it's a Latin word, but I wanted to invoke the idea of "oriental". Shasta is exotic and strange and comes from a culture that civilized Calmorene citizens don't need to learn any actual facts about because it's enough to know that it's this mysterious place of the other. (Which appears in entertaining stories which include fantastic things like talking beasts and lion gods and ice witches and . . .)

For Arsheesh that would have been his first major selling point if he hadn't thought he could get a higher price by trying to get the monetary value of a father's love. For the Tarkaan it's just a quick way to say, "Totally not one of us, drop the 'father-son' bullshit"

Latin directional adjectives:
boreal == northern
austral == southern
occidental == western
oriental == eastern

Northern and southern both have alternatives, where oriental and occidental are pretty well your only major options for eastern and western. This is because of the sun. At their roots oriental and occidental are rise and set, so the east/west connection was obvious. The sun is lacking in any daily impressive-looking north/south action, so other names needed to be found. Boreal and austral both have their roots in winds.

By the way, the Tarkaan here isn't Anradin. That happened about a hundred years later and far to the west. There was no fisherman in that story, for there were no fish in that place.

Also on that "other time, other place" note, the origin story of Shasta provided by Lewis goes with another story. I've kept Shasta the same age by pushing back the date of his discovery to a time when he would, barely, be able to be sustained on solid food.

I know that a northerly wind blows from the north to the south (that is, a northerly wind causes air to move southerly; there is a reason people get confused) because winds are named for their direction of origin.

I do not, however, know ocean current terminology. In fact, I'm not sure there really is one. Currents, being things that persist where winds do not, have names. Thus I decided to just go with what felt right. The southern current is a current that flows south and is useful if you're making a southern journey but annoying as all Hell if you're a fisherman who navigates by going due east to reach his fishing grounds and then due west to get home.

The southern current is actually an immense eddy that dominates this part of the coastline, it's much faster, and much smaller, than the northern current that gives rise to it. Somewhere, far to the north, part of the northern current smashes into an outcrop of land that forces a large amount of water to make a U-turn, it also forces the water into a smaller space, same amount of water moving + smaller space = faster flow this flow continues because, in a place to the south, the northern current is pushed far away from the coastline, the southern current flows south to that place, turns again, and much of the water rejoins the northern current.

Does any of this make sense? Narnia is a flat world. It doesn't so much have to make sense as it needs to sound plausible. I think --I hope-- it sounds plausible.

A Stranger Comes -- The Matter of Aravis

[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's Ramblings, though really ought to go with this post.]
[Content note: child abuse]

One day a man came from the south, upon a great horse, who was unlike any man Shasta had seen before. His turban was of clean silk and over it he wore a helmet with a single spike at the center. He wore a shirt of chain mail, a round shield studded with brass hung from his back, a curving scimitar hung at his side, and a lance was in his right hand, while he held the reins with his left.

This was the first time Shasta had seen any instruments of war, and he didn't truly understand what he was seeing. To him the brass studded shield was no different than silver inlaid stirrups: they made the man seem other worldly, strange, and impressive.

His beard was strange to Shasta as well, for it was crimson.

The horse Shasta barely took note of. It was dappled with a flowing mane and tail.

Shasta didn't even notice the man's armlet, but Arsheesh knew by the design inlaid in its gold that this man was a Tarkaan. So great a lord had not visited this scrap of coast in a generation, however any properly educated Calormene subject knew how to respond.

Arsheesh dropped to his knees and bowed so low his beard touched the soil, then hastily gestured to Shasta to kneel as well.

"I require lodging for the night," the man said, and Arsheesh was quick to agree to provide it. To Shasta this was nothing new, he would sleep with the donkey again. The same as he did when a man from the village paid a visit. Arsheesh knew that this was very strange. A Tarkaan almost never traveled alone, had no reason to be in this place, and if he needed lodging would prefer the inn at the village to the south, not the isolated home of some fisherman.

Arsheesh, though, also knew not to ask questions. He rushed into the house to make it presentable, pausing only to order Shasta to care for the horse and its saddle and say, "Please allow this humble servant a moment to tidy my inadequate dwelling."

"Do you know anything of lances, boy?" the man asked Shasta. Shasta simply shook his head.

"The shiny end doesn't touch the ground," the man said, "and don't touch it yourself unless you like bleeding." In truth the lance was not nearly that sharp, made for thrusting instead of slashing, but the man thought that Shasta would be more careful if he believed the metal to be more dangerous than it was.

Indeed, when Shasta took the lance he treated the metal tip as though it would bite him if touched, and carefully moved the weapon into the stable.

When Shasta returned the man had dismounted. He approached Shasta with the horse's reins in his hand, then stopped. He was looking at something on Shasta's neck, or perhaps his shoulder. Shasta was about to look at his shoulder to see if he could understand what the stranger was looking at, when he realized what must have caught the stranger's eyes.

It had been three days ago, and Shasta had done something wrong with cooking dinner. He didn't really know what, but he always seemed to find some way to mess things up. His shame would still be written on his body in purple or brown. He was never good enough for Arsheesh, and now here was this man, someone Arsheesh obviously looked up to, looking at where Arsheesh had made Shasta's failure visible.

Shasta tried to turn to hide the sign of his shame, but the man reached out his free toward Shasta to turn him back. Shasta flinched. He couldn't help it. He hadn't meant to. It just happened. The man's hand had stopped at the flinch, frozen in mid air.

The man pulled his hand back and offered Shasta the horse's reins. "He's well trained," the man said. "He'll give you no trouble."

When Shasta took the horse to the stable, the man walked to join Arsheesh inside the house.

-

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What Shasta Believed -- The Matter of Aravis

[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's Ramblings, though really ought to go with this post.]
[Content note: child abuse]

Shasta believed himself the son of a fisherman.  He believed that sons worked hard for their fathers without reward or praise, never complained, always obeyed, accepted punishment without protest, and loved their fathers without condition.  He believed he was a bad and broken person because he could not love the fisherman, Arsheesh, no matter how hard he tried.  He believed he was worthless because Arsheesh often found fault with him, and beat him frequently.

He believed that he would only ever have one friend, the donkey that pulled Arsheesh's cart, laden with fish, south to the nearest village most afternoons.  He believed there was nothing strange about a fisherman never taking his son to sea or teaching him to fish.  He believed it unremarkable that in all his life he had never heard a word uttered about his mother.

He believed that he had been born in Arsheesh's house and that he would die there, having never gone father from the house than the mile or so away that the southern village lay.  He had only been to the village once or twice, and it made him believe the world a squalid place, for all that he saw there were men in clothes as plain, ragged, and dirty as Arsheesh's own.

Or, at least, he believed that most of the world was squalid or boring.  To the east was the ocean, which meant nothing to him as he was never allowed on Arsheesh's boat.  To the the south lay a village that simply had more men like Arsheesh, to the west was rocky land that was mostly barren, except for the occasional small plant or sprout of grass beside the trickling creek.

But to the north . . . to the north there lay mystery.

The western waste transitioned to grassy land to the north, it was here that Shasta took the donkey for grazing, but he was never allowed to go too far north.  The land gradually rose into a hill, blocking any hint of what lay beyond.

Arsheesh never answered Shasta's questions of what lay to the north, which only made him more curious.  He had been told not to ask, he had been beaten, he had been given platitudes so twisted and incoherent even Shasta knew that Arsheesh wasn't really trying.

The one Shasta remembered best was, "Oh my son, do not allow yourself to be distracted by idle questions.  For, as one of the poets has said, 'Application to business is the root of prosperity, but those who ask questions that do not concern them are steering the ship of folly towards the rock of indulgence.'"  Shasta didn't even know what all of the words meant, but he knew that the opposite of a root was not the steering of a ship.  A branch, perhaps, but not steering.

Shasta believed that Arsheesh was hiding something from him.  He knew that something lay to the north, for once, and one time alone, a traveler had come over the hill.  Seeking shelter for the night, he stayed at Arsheesh's house.  As was always the case when another man stayed at the house, Shasta slept that night with his friend the donkey, but before he did he listened by the doorway to hear what the traveler from the north might say.

The traveler had told stories of people who lived in gleaming palaces who never worked, sat on soft cushions, ate foods that defied belief, commanded armies, fought wars, had thousands of slaves to do all of their work for them, and so much more.

Shasta didn't believe any of these things were real, but he wondered what must lie north of the hill to allow the traveler to even imagine such things.

So it was that when Shasta worked alone during the day, when his indoor work was done, when he had run out of things to say to the donkey, finished with his inside tasks, and set himself to the endless task of repairing and cleaning Arsheesh's nets, that Shasta looked to the north and imagined what great secret might lay over the hill.  He believed that Arsheesh was keeping some great secret from him.

As with so much Shasta believed, he was wrong.  Arsheesh neither knew nor cared what lay over the hill.  The road led south, not north.  The best waters for fishing were almost due east, why he had chosen to live at the creek instead of with others.  He'd never had cause to go north of the hill, and he had no interest in what might lay there.  He did, however, have an interest in keeping Shasta from wandering too far, so when Shasta asked he gave dull non-answers if his mood were pleasant, and beatings when it was not.

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Setting the Stage for the Susan Era story -- The Matter of Aravis

[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's, but it would more at home in the now-closed comments to this post.]

First you must understand that this was a unique time in the history of the lands.

Yes, it was during the Golden Age when Peter was High King, but that doesn't bring understanding. To understand you must realize that the Golden Age took time to establish and was fragile from beginning to end.

When the White Witch's regime collapsed so too did the combination of magic and border guards that had kept humans out of Narnia while sealing Animals for a century. The beginning of High Queen Susan's reign was a time of chaos. Aslan had left with the victory that signaled the changing of power from Jadis to four children who knew little of Narnia and less of ruling.

In those early days many humans migrated back into Narnia, the land of their ancestors, a rare few were even old enough to call it the land of their birth. Many Animals left, as to them Narnia had been nothing but memories of pain and cold.

Those who traded in captured Narnian livestock, long reputed to be the best in all realms, were no longer limited to the handful who escaped, or were expelled by the queen --already bound--
along with an ice shipment. They took many Animals who had immigrated into Archenland, and for the first time were able to journey into Narnia itself to capture their living wares.

Of course such practices were forbidden in Archenland, but Calormen had always been all the market the Animal traders had ever needed. Exotic Narnian Animals were highly sought after in Calormen, and the prices they would fetch made the need to transport them through Archenland but a pittance.

Once a satellite state of Narnia, Archenland had spent one hundred years in fear that without their patron, isolationist under Jadis, Calormen would simply take them over. Ignoring the trade in Animals, and not taxing the trade in ice, had been a way to keep Calormen content enough to not bother conquering them. That was how they justified it.

When Narnia reopened the Animal trade was firmly entrenched, had well established routes, and ensured a steady flow of Animals from Narnia to Calormen. By boat and over desert many were delivered into bondage. Those Animals who survived in Calormen had learned quickly to be silent, for fear they be executed as abominations born of unnatural magic.

In these times many Horses and Donkeys were taken, and they would come to ally themselves with many girls, boys, other youngsters, and adults as well, to escape Calormen.

It was only once the Kings and Queens of Narnia could again assert their power, and promise protection to Archenland, that the trade began to fail as old laws were once again enforced.

The kings and queens of Narnia made great efforts to protect their lands by forging alliances with neighboring countries, and Archenland once again became Narnia's closest ally. Sometimes, however, diplomacy failed.

When High King Peter was forced to take Narnia's entire army to the north, High Queen Susan and Low King Edmund took unprecedented measures to ensure peace in the south. They traveled with the Crown Prince of Archenland in their company, and indulged Calormen by immediately accepting an invitation to visit its capital that normally would have required months of diplomatic and logistical coordination.

It was a calculated risk, but for a century Calormen had demonstrated, via its stance toward Archenland, that it was content to allow the continued existence of kingdoms that bowed to its whims.

Only Low Queen Lucy remained to actually administer the country of Narnia, for High King Peter was involved in a war to prevent Narnia from being taken by the north, and High Queen Susan and Low King Edmund were engaged in diplomacy to prevent Narnia from being taken by the south.

It was the most volatile moment in Narnia's Golden Age, the memory of Aslan was fading, a war raged, and the vast empire of Calormen loomed like a cornice ready to bring devastation upon everything in its path if perturbed.

Into the center of this stumbled a party that included not just a boy or girl with a Mare, Stallion, or Donkey, but a Mare with a girl, a Stallion with a boy, and a donkey in tow.

It is true that there was no human child who was neither boy nor girl, nor was there a talking Donkey, but most of the characters from most of the stories could be mapped onto one of the five travelers. This alone might have made it into the story the others were subsumed into, but that it was a story from Narnia's Golden Age in which the fate of not just Archenland, but also Narnia, hung in the balance made the story irresistible.

There had been many Brees before, Bree was a common enough name for a mount, and there had been girls called "aravissa" rather than their actual names, but here there was a Bree, a girl actually named Aravis (after one of the girls from an earlier story) the first Shasta and the first Hwin to appear in such an adventure, and the nameless donkey that somehow seemed to stand for all donkeys and Donkeys alike.

When Bree the Liar combined many existing tales into his own, largely fictitious, adventure some years later, it was this story that he stole the most from.

⁂

It was at this time that our story began. While it would affect the fates of Narnia, Calomen, and Archenland between, it started by a stream that was little more than a trickle far to the south of any place or person who might be expected to affect the course of any of those three nations.

For it was in this place that a boy named Shasta would learn that everything he had believed was a lie. Normally such a thing would mean little to anyone but the boy, but that was the pebble that started the rockslide.

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The Matter of Aravis -- Index

The idea is that the reason for inconsistencies and non-sequiturs in the source text is that many different stories were combined (bashed together) into the existing The Horse and His Boy narrative because of sexism and racism.

Also because Archenland has a truly horrible history when it comes to their treatment of royal twins, and they'd rather pretend it only happened once, and any additional stories are just corruptions of the one, AND ONLY ONE, time the twin thing happened (which happens to be one of the rare times they're not to blame.)

In theory all of my HHB fic can be adapted into this, and I definitely plan to, for instance, include all three versions of "the comportment of a slave" by modifying them so they're conversations between different people at different points in history that represent the changing nature of slavery in Calormen.

At the moment, though, all I've really written post deciding to go through with the idea is the core story that mostly follows along with the book.

-

Things written about the conception of the idea well before I decided to actually run with it.

Story inspired by Ana Mardoll's Rabadash's Ride:

• [pretty much the entire story is unwritten]
• A bow that will not easily miss

Susan Era story:

• Introduction as the story the other stories were grafted onto and into
• Introduction as to the state of the world when the story started
• What Shasta Believed
• A Stranger Came
• Setting a price
• Reflected on being sold
• The Horse can talk
• We're leaving
• [gap]
• Meeting Hwin and Aravis -- may be revised to better fit the idea
• [gap]
• How Aravis deals with thieves -- Will definitely be revised
• [tiny gap]
• Differences and Similarities at Tashbaan -- may be revised
• [gap]
• Shasta is captured by Narnians -- may be revised
• Shasta in Susan's chambers -- may be revised
• [large gap]
• Why Susan stayed and Corin went
• [small gap]
• Birds before Battle
• When Shasta asked Corin where Susan was
• [battle sized gap]
• Aravis and Aslan after the battle of Anvard
• [gap]
• Invoking Tash after the battle
• [that's all so far]

-

[Narnia Index]

When Shasta asked Corin where Susan was -- The Matter of Aravis

[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's Ramblings.]

The march was slow as the whole endeavor would be pointless if the cavalry arrived, exhausted, ahead of the, likewise exhausted, infantry, and so Shasta found himself with a lot of time to think about what he'd volunteered for. It had seemed to make sense at the time. Everything, even Aravis' suffering at the claws of a lion they'd foolishly mistaken for Aslan, would be for nothing if Anvard fell.

Sure, they'd started off looking for nothing more than freedom, but they'd become caught up in this larger flow of history and they'd all chosen to deliver Aravis' message to Anvard and warn Queen Susan of the looming danger even though they'd have been safer waiting till the battle was decided and crossing only then.

The message and warning were delivered, but neither would matter much if Anvard fell and the Tisroc were convinced to send more troops to solidify the conflict.

It had seemed to make sense to do everything in his power, including joining this hastily thrown together army, to make sure Anvard survived the assault and the Calmorene troops never had unfettered access to the passage to Narnia and Queen Susan.

As the horse --a magnificent creature that treated him well, but not someone he could possibly talk to; even Hwin would only be able to manage the most basic communication with an ordinary horse-- drew him closer and closer to the inevitable death and bloodshed, he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of volunteering.

Maybe it would have been better to leave the fighting to the other volunteers, like the Badgers and Weasels who had as much intelligence as any person paired with the fighting instincts of their wordless brethren.

Shasta was in need of some kind of reassurance or comfort, and his mind returned to Queen Susan. Not as the person they had to warn about Rabadash's assault, but as the woman who had been kind to him in Tashbaan. It wasn't his place to call on the High Queen of Narnia to quell his fears, but maybe she would anyway.

"Where is Queen Susan?" Shasta asked Corin.

Shasta was confused at the reaction his question provoked. A flury of emotions, none of them good, seemed to contort Corin's face. Just for a moment though. Then, composed, he said, "At Cair Paravel."

Why would she have stayed there? She had as much to lose as anyone. Unless--

"She’s not like Lucy, you know," Corin continued, and didn't give Shasta time to say that he didn't know before adding, "who’s as good as a man, or at any rate as good as a boy."

That made no sense. If anyone preparing for battle were given a choice between Shasta, a boy, and Aravis, a girl, they'd chose Aravis. They'd be right to. Shasta would chose Aravis over himself. Obviously girls could be better than boys, so too could they be worse. It depended on the girl and the boy in question.

Shasta had lived most of his life as a common slave with no education. One who hadn't even realized he was a slave until the end. If he could understand this, how could Corin --prince and heir to an entire well off kingdom-- not?

"Queen Susan is more like an ordinary grown-up lady," Corin said as if it meant something.
There was something harsh in his voice, but Shasta couldn't place it. "She doesn’t ride to the wars," after a pause Corin's manner became more pleasant and he said, "though she is an excellent archer.”

The only thing Shasta had learned from that was that Queen Susan was an excellent archer. Still, Shasta thought he'd figured out the answer on his own. Queen Susan was Rabadash's target. If she showed her face on the battlefield she'd be in much greater danger than anyone else. It made sense for her to avoid the battle.

*

* *

*

Shasta is actually wrong here. His reasoning is fine, but he reaches the wrong conclusion none the less. He's missing out on some important facts, you see.

Susan stayed because her state of mind wasn't fit for fighting after Corin's violent outburst toward her (because she turned down Corin's offer of marriage), which was what Ana suggested here and what I ran with on the "why Susan stayed and Corin went" fic.

Birds before Battle -- The Matter of Aravis

[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's Ramblings.  As a reminder from last time, Susan stayed at the castle, Shasta was allowed to join without subterfuge, and Corin was allowed to ride with the army when he might otherwise not have been (since he's theoretically under the protection of Narnia) because he needed to be separated from Susan.]

"What draws your eyes, Shasta?" the horned Rabbit to his right asked.

"All the birds."

"They've been told there is a battle coming," the Rabbit said. "Eagles, Hawks and Vultures can't quite converse with their wordless brethren, but they can get the gist across. It's considered polite to let the wordless, those which resemble you, know about potential feasts."

"He means the dead people and horses," Corin said with a strange and disturbing glee.

"Will they feed on . . . us?" Shasta asked.

"If we die," Corin said.

"Only the wordless would," the Rabbit said. "It's generally considered very rude to dine upon one whom, in life, you could have conversed with."

"But . . ." Shasta was having difficulty figuring out how to communicate this. He knew that some animals ate their own kind, but he didn't wish to sound like he was saying those like this Rabbit did. Finally he settled on, "But wordless eat wordless."

"Their ways are their own," the Rabbit said, "and quite unlike our own."

~ - ~

If Al-mi'raj were a species rather than an individual, the horned rabbit would be one of them.  WanderingUndine thought of a jackalope and I can definitely see where that's coming from.

Why Susan Stayed And Corin Went -- The Matter of Aravis

[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's Ramblings.]
[Shasta was sent for after his message arrived, so he's at Cair Paravel while the army is mustered and it's determined who will go where.]
[The first scene is set at the end of a scene proposed by Ana: Corin--who is characterized as selfish, violent, and determined to get his way in all things--requests an audience alone with Susan, who grants it as she thinks of him fondly as a child. He puts himself forward as a suitor, explaining that if she marries him she won't need to be afraid of Rabadash anymore. Susan rebuffs him, laughing at the jest; Corin, in a fit of rage, attempts to harm her.]

Corin, glaring up from the floor in a rage, shouted at Susan, "I'm trying to save you, you stupid--"

"You are testing my ability to be gentle," Susan said with such force Corin was stunned into silence. "I've beaten you once, if you don't get out, now, and never attempt anything like this again, you'll see what happens when I stop being Susan the Gentle of Narnia and start being Susan the Pissed Off of Moðrheim,"

* * *

"I'm too . . . distracted by what happened to be of use in battle," Susan said.

"I would be too," Edmund said.

"So you'll just stay here," Lucy said. "We can do without our best archer given that we'll still have our second and third best. Though I do wish I'd convinced Peter to leave the rest of the top ten here as well."

"That can't be helped now," Susan said. "We have to work with what we have."

"When our new army leaves Cair Paravel," Edmund said, "Rabadash might again try to abduct you in a sneak attack. If we want to save our allies we can only afford to leave a handful of guards."

"I'll survive," Susan said. "The question is what to do with Corin."

Edmund nods. "We don't have time to deal with him and his actions right now."

"We take him with us," Lucy said. "With the regular army in the north, we're taking any volunteer who can fight anyway. He meets that description."

"And he'll jump at the chance to go because he'll see the battle as entertainment," Edmund said.

"Exactly," Lucy said.

"If he accepts that he's lost me," Susan said to Lucy, "he may set his sights on you."

"I'll be surrounded by soldiers, in my own tent with my own chosen guards, and not taking social visits, what with the emergency and all," Lucy said simply.

"There is one problem," Edmund said, "if he falls in battle, how do we explain to King Lune that we got his only son killed?"

"We'll stick him at the back," Lucy said, "and if that doesn't protect him, well accidents do happen in wartime."

"Lune may never forgive us," Susan said, "but he can't afford to alienate Narnia so soon after an attack from Calormen. Besides which, we've no intention of letting him die, and if the worst does happen, even Lune will agree that it would have been cruel of us to prevent Corin from defending his own home when we allowed others who were significantly less qualified join the battle."

"It can't be said to be unfair to let him join the fight," Lucy said. "Consider the messenger, if someone with such obvious similarities, but far less training, is eligible then Corin must be. Fairness dictates that."

"About the messenger," Susan said, "what will we do with him when this is all over?"

"He and his companions were instrumental in warning both Archenland of the impending attack and us of Rabadash's true motives," Edmund said, not because the others didn't know, but because he wanted it at the front of their minds.

"Without his warning," Susan added, "Rabadash's attempt to abduct me may well have succeeded."

"Justice dictates he be rewarded," Edmund said. "Archenland may have use for a body double for their prince, a position in which he would be well taken care of. If Lune does not offer appropriate compensation to the messenger, though, I have already arranged for he and his four* companions to be well taken care of here in Narnia."

"In case we don't survive to give such orders after the battle?" Lucy asked.

"Yes."

"With any luck, the other four should be here by the time you all return alive," Susan said. "I'll make sure they're given every comfort until decisions can be made. I understand it was the girl's message that allowed Archenland to prepare in the face of the attack, if anything she's more of a hero than the messenger who came to us."

"With all of that settled, I must return to the matter at hand," Lucy said. "The Ravens, Crows, Magpies, and Jackdaws have delivered our call, the volunteers are arriving, and I'll need to work on forming them into a serviceable army."

"That I can help with," Susan said.

"I'll look to our provisions," Edmund said.

-

* They didn't abandon the fucking donkey. I cannot stress this enough. A donkey may not words-think like a human or Animal, but that's no reason to abandon it. The donkey came with them.

-

Assuming I mashed up the Norse correctly Moðrheim translates to "(the) Home of Wrath".

For those who didn't follow the narrative of Lewis' actual book, Aravis (not Shasta/Cor) was the one who learned about the attack on Anvard.  So it was her message even if he delivered it the last tiny leg of the journey.

Intro to the Susan Era Story - The Matter of Aravis

[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's Ramblings.]

By now you know that many tales have been combined to form the story "The Horse and His Boy" commonly told around campfires. I hope you begin to understand why.

How even the great storytellers of old could be moved by prejudice to claim that there was only ever one great maiden who rode a talking Mare on an epic quest that changed the very course of history, how the kingdom of Archenland worked to suppress knowledge of its nigh unbelievably long history of grievously mistreating twins of the royal house, how every mount named "Bree" became a warhorse in retelling even if he were a simple donkey in reality, how after a time any runaway would take up one of the famous names Aravis, Hwin, Shasta, or Bree out of belief that it would bless their journey.

You've heard the tale of the one who left Calormen an Aravis and arrived in the Narnian sphere of influence a Shasta. You also know of some "boys" who became Aravisses.

You know of the king who was deposed when the child he meant to kill rescued the long imprisoned mother that had saved nir, allowing child and mother to lay bare the attempted filicide before all of Anvard while Narnians and Calmorenes were in attendance. You know of a future king callously sold into slavery by his own father simply because he seemed to be female at birth.

But through all of this you must have wondered where the core of the campfire story had come from. Why was it set when it was set? Why did it involve Susan, the High Queen of the Golden Age, who was said to be so gentle that even in battle she made each death she caused painless?

Let us now tell that story, and tell it faithfully.

The Matter of Aravis -- Conception

It started, I think, almost a year and a half ago.  I certainly don't remember any inkling of this idea before Ana Mardoll said in a post:

It's not that The Horse and His Boy could have been a better story with another author; it's that there's like four better stories in here and all of them would have required Lewis to let go of his virulent sexism and racism in order to get within throwing distance of any of them.

The underlining is something I added to draw attention to the key part of what set off the line of thinking.

Certainly that comment from Ana is what led to me writing:

I would like to put forth the possibility that they're all how it really happened and the problems of the work we have result from the fact that it combines the disparate narratives of various Women and their Horse allies from various points in Narnian (world, not country, who the hell names their country the same word as the word for the whole word?) history because a certain racist and sexist person couldn't believe that more than one brown Girl could possibly have had adventures of note with Talking Horses.

Or indeed that more than one brown girl could have had adventures of note period.

If we could disentangle the various narratives we might be able to piece together the many adventures of Mares and Girls that were had in those lands, with at least one of the Girls being named Aravis.

I never stopped thinking along those lines.  Closer to a year ago, I wrote:

I would like to revive my idea that this is an amalgamation of several stories because our dear narrator couldn't cope with how many female heroes on talking horses there were in wardrobe-world history, much less female people of note.

At least one of them was named Aravis, others might have had similar names, and by the time of the Rillian story we see such shades of in this bizarre forced together text it was just a case of:

Runaway Girl on a talking horse who doesn't want to reveal her real name: I'm Aravis.
Person who knows the stories of old: Oh, ha, ha. And I suppose that's Hwin you're riding.
Runaway Girl on a talking horse: However did you know?

What is the Rillian story?  Go and read Ana's post that started this all.

Anyway, the reason that I bring all of that up now is because I've finally gotten something that takes that interpretation into account written, and I wanted to let people know where it was coming from first.

Narnia: Shasta in Susan's chambers

[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's Ramblings.]
[Immediately follows from the previous, so that's good to read first if you haven't yet.  As a reminder, the apparently human Narnians mostly aren't.  Gold Bow == Apollo, Gold wings == Iris, Winged clothes ==Hermes, woman with apple == Eris, and Dionysus doesn't have anything to say in this section.  Pine needle hair == Tree Spirit.]

Soon they had left the crowds behind and Shasta had a new worry: he'd completely lost track of how they'd gotten here. Even if he did get away from the strange foreigners, how would he ever find the others again?

They passed through a great garden courtyard and when they entered a door on the far side the Calormene escort remained outside. Down a corridor, up some stairs, and then it seemed that as soon has Shasta's eyes had adjusted to the darker lighting of the indoors, they were in a room as bright as the open air. Before his eyes could adjust a woman hugged him, kissed his head, and then pushed him back far enough to look him in the eyes.

“Corin, how could you?” she demanded. “I thought I was your friend.”

The others had all called him “prince”; at least now he knew who they thought he was, though he'd never heard of Prince Corin and had no idea what to do with the information.

“And have you thought of what it could mean?” the woman asked. “If the crown prince of Archenland disappeared while on a journey with a king and queen of Narnia? It could be cause for war.”

“Susan,” the king said, “he hasn't said a word since we found him.”

Susan quickly looked at the king and then looked back at Shasta with worry in her eyes. “What happened to you, Corin?”

“I . . . I don't know,” Shasta said. He hadn't meant to, it had just come out.

“At least he can speak again,” the woman with the apple said. “Give the boy some time. I'm sure he'll tell us everything when he's ready.”

“Since when are you so understanding?” the woman with the golden wings asked. Then the wings started to move. Shasta was too shocked to do anything. “It's so good to be able to stretch,” the woman said. “I was holding them still for so long I felt like--”

“At least you can go outside,” one of the people in the room said. When Shasta looked at him . . . what was it? Its legs were like the hind legs of a giant goat --there was even a tail-- above that it was like a naked man, if somewhat reddish, but in its curly hair . . . there were horns.

“This is a strange land with strange people,” a large Raven said. “Why didn't Rabadash warn us that they'd be so annoyingly shocked every time they saw people who weren't human?”

“Maybe he knew that Susan wouldn't come if she knew we weren't welcome,” something with a long nose and a spiky brown and gray body said. “It would fit with his other . . . omissions.”

“Well, it's not every day that someone sees an echidna, never mind an Echidna, in Calormen,” the woman with the apple said casually as she plopped herself on a couch at the edge of the room. “I don't see why you're all so surprised; if there weren't conflict to be had I'd never have come.”

“It's fine for you,” a Mongoose said, “you can pass as human. I can't say anything outside of these walls without five people fainting, three people praying, two calling an exorcist, and another seven assuming I'm part of some cheap ventriloquist act.”

“Enough, everyone,” the goat-man-thing said. “I take it the search went well, King Edmund, given how quickly you found him.”

“Well, it's hard to search without looking like you're searching, Tumnus,” Edmund said. “I think we moved so slowly that everyone with business in the city must hate us by now.”

“We found the kid,” the woman with the apple said. “Quit complaining.”

“He's your king,” the Raven said. “You should show some respect.”

“I'm a god,” the woman said. “I'll respect whom I choose.”

“She was actually surprisingly helpful,” the man with the golden bow said.

Most of the occupants of the room looked like they found that hard to believe.

“Screwing up everyone's day by slowly wandering through the city and obstructing traffic must have put her in a good mood,” the man with the winged hat said.

“No doubt,” the woman with the wings said.

“We probably should have just had the locals search for him,” the Echidna said. “It is their city.”

“No,” Susan said. “Even if this place were what we'd expected, it still wouldn't be in Narnia's best interest to admit that we'd misplaced a prince. Looking incompetent in a foreign capital is not good for diplomacy.”

“Especially if you really are being incompetent,” the woman with the apple said.

“Especially then,” Susan said.

“I hate it when you agree with me,” the woman with the apple said. “It takes all the fun out of it.”

Susan just smiled at her.

“I'll clean up the young prince and get him cooled off,” the goat-man-thing --Tumnus-- said.

Shasta just let himself be led away by Tumnus. He'd seen and heard too much to process and was barely even thinking at this point.

In another room Tumnus gently cleaned Shasta's face. Then Tumnus started to pull at Shasta's clothing and, when Shasta realized that he was preparing to remove it, Shasta shook his head. Tumnus mumbled something, all Shasta could make out were the words, “you humans,” and left Shasta's clothes alone. He left Shasta's clothes on, and proceeded to clean Shasta's arms and and feet.

As Tumnus washed the grime out of Shasta's hair he said, “You can't just run away, young prince, but other than needing to keep you with us until we return you to your home, I hope you realize that none of us would do anything to you that you didn't want. You're safe here.

Tumnus gave Shasta some cold food of a type he'd never tasted before, and cool water to drink.

Finally Shasta was able to think. These were obviously Narnians. That meant that the king and queen of Narnia --brother and sister, how did that work?-- were right here in the other room. Maybe he and the others didn't have to make it to Narnia. Maybe if he could bring the others to these people they could go back to Narnia in their company.

No. It was too much of a risk. They were obviously here as guests --why would they upset the Calormenes by aiding in Aravis' escape? The others were safer the further they were from scrutiny. Likewise, he'd be safer if he either convinced these people he wasn't Prince Corin of Archenland --provided he could do it in a way that let him go free-- or slipped away before the real prince showed up.

Still, the one who told him to play along had said she was a god --and no one disagreed-- and if he stayed with them for a little while maybe these people would feed him. Also, he wouldn't be able to get away when they'd just caught him and thought he'd already run away once. For now he'd watch, try to learn what he could, and be ready to run if a chance presented itself.

When Tumnus led Shasta back into the large room the others were in the middle of a discussion. “We've been here for three weeks,” Edmund said. “In that time I think I've learned all I care to about this place.”

“And I've done all that I think I can,” Susan said. “Not enough but--”

“We didn't come here to set up an escape route for slaves, Majesty,” the Echidna said. “There was only so much we could do.”

Escape route for slaves? Maybe Shasta could tell the truth. Not the whole truth, of course. He'd leave out Bree and Aravis and Hwin and the donkey. But maybe if he told them he was a runaway slave they'd let him go instead of returning him to slavery.

“No, we didn't,” Susan said. “When he was a guest in our land Rabadash seemed a just and kind person. I never expected how he treats his own people. The fact that there would be slavery here . . . it just never occurred to me.”

Edmund smirked, “So I take it you're not going to accept his marriage proposal?”

Susan laughed.

“As I recall,” the woman with the pine needle hair said, “she's had offers from kings who were more moral, more powerful, and better looking.”

“If we're agreed that it's time to go,” Edmund said, “then it's time to talk about how we go. I fear it may not be as easy as it was to come.”

-

[Narnia Index]

Narnia: Shasta is captured by the Narnians

[Originally posted at Ana Mardoll's Ramblings.]
[Lewis has the Narnian delegation out in public be mostly human looking, though one of the descriptions implies Hermes, which would make sense because gods and spirits are the only human looking people, other than the rulers, in Narnia at this point in the timeline.]

There were about a dozen people, and they were unlike any that Shasta had ever seen. Their skin was light, but not the unhealthy paleness of slaves who had worked underground for long periods and seldom seen the sun.

All were on foot --there was no litter-- and they walked with a relaxed inefficiency, a swing in in their steps and looseness in their shoulders and arms. Rather than acting serious and formal, as the other highborn parties had, these foreigners were casually chatting with each other, some even laughing, as they walked. One was whistling. Though they weren't mixing with the crowd, they somehow exuded a sense of friendliness, as if the only thing stopping them from chatting and laughing with any peasant there was that the Calormene escort leading them through the city kept all the locals at a distance.

Those who wore swords at their sides had them in straight scabbards, ones that would be impossible to use for holding a Calormene scimitar. Most wore tunics, which were dyed in various bright colors: greens yellows and blues. The men didn't wear turbans and the women lacked the scarves most Calormene women wore.

One of the men, the only blonde of the group, wore a circle of leaves on his head and instead of a sword he was armed with a gilded bow. Another man had a winged cap and winged sandals and carried an ornate carved staff made to appear as if it had two snakes wrapped around it and wings of its own. This man was talking to a woman who had a similar staff; Shasta barely noticed her features because she appeared to have golden wings. The wings were so realistic that Shasta almost believed he could see the gold feathers move --the way real feathers of real wings would-- when the woman walked.

Another of the woman repeatedly tossed and caught a golden apple --Shasta had little experience with gold, but he knew enough of its value to be impressed by how these people seemed to use it for frivolous things-- while speaking to a man with a staff covered in vines and leaves and topped with a great pine cone.

One of the women's hair had been formed into small short spikes that were dyed green: they looked like pine needles.

As he looked at this strange group Shasta found himself glad that he'd been shoved to the front of the crowd, for he felt that he'd never seen anything more lovely in his life.

That changed in an instant when the woman with the apple looked straight at him. She smiled at Shasta then said to the leader of the group, “Isn't that the boy?” while pointing at him.

Shasta wanted to disappear. Why would the foreigners know about, or care about, a runaway slave? He tried to push back into the crowd, but someone behind him responded by shoving him forward.

The leader looked at Shasta closely for a few moments then said, “It is him.” Then the leader turned to the woman with the apple and said to her, “Thank you; he's disguised himself well. I'd never have recognized him on my own.”

“Helping out is why I'm here,” the woman said.

There was obviously some joke because half of the party suddenly seemed to be trying very hard not to laugh; the leader didn't seem to notice, he returned his attention to Shasta.

“Where have you been?” he asked. “Why did you run away? My sister's been crying because of you.” The last comment was said with such force Shasta felt like he'd been struck.

Shasta would have run away --tried to find Bree or Aravis or Hwin-- but the leader grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the center of the group.

He was now very, very confused. What was worse, he knew he couldn't tell the truth --that he wasn't whoever they were looking for-- without putting the others at risk. None of his practiced lies would work either. They'd always assumed that they'd be able to stick together, so every lie assumed that he was with a girl, two horses, and a donkey.

For the first time since running away, Shasta was on his own. He'd need to think up new lies --ones that fit being a lone boy... ones that wouldn't draw attention to the others, wherever they were.

Bree would want to head on to Narnia. He'd say that it was better for three of them to escape (he never thought of the donkey) than all of them to be caught. Hwin and Aravis might wait for him, Shasta thought. If they didn't, at least he knew they'd take care of the donkey.

Really, Shasta thought, this might not be that bad. They just thought he was someone else; they didn't know he was a criminal. Maybe when whoever they thought he was actually showed up, they'd just let him go. He just needed to figure out the right lies.

“He wouldn't have gone to such trouble to disguise himself if he'd planned on coming back to us,” the leader said to the group. “We'll have to keep a close watch on him from now on.” Then the leader said to one of the men, “Peridan, tell our escort that we want to return to my sis-- High Queen Susan immediately.”

Soon the party was heading in a new direction, with Shasta in the center of it. The leader's grip on his wrist wasn't tight or painful, but it was strong enough that Shasta doubted he could break it and flee.

The leader kept asking questions, and Shasta needed more time to figure out the right lies. If he said he was really a slave, he'd be returned to his master. That would lead to problems since he didn't have a master to claim and without the horses and donkey the story about being sent on a long trip wouldn't be believable.

Finally the leader said, “Look, I understand wanting to get away. I never asked to be king, and you never asked to be prince--”

Shasta didn't try to hide his surprise.

“You're a very good actor,” the king said, “and you've managed an impressive disguise in a single night, but you can't change your face. No amount of dirt or cutting of hair can hide your bones, prince.

“And I don't think you realize what danger you've put yourself in. What if you had been taken for the slave you've made yourself look like? You might have been declared a runaway and hauled to some prison or brought to an auction. This place isn't like your home --or mine.

“If something's happened that made you feel your were better off running away, I wish you'd have told us. I have the power to offer asylum, you know.”

Still, Shasta said nothing. He wished the king would be silent so he could have time to think of the right story to get away from these people. Instead things just seemed to be getting worse and worse.

If he told them the truth, he'd return to slavery. If he played along, then when the real prince showed up . . . how was one punished for impersonating royalty? It probably wasn't good.

“When we're safely in our own chambers,” the king said, “I hope that you'll at least tell us what happened that made you unwilling to speak in public.”

The woman with the apple whispered, “Just go with it,” in Shasta's ear.

-
- -
-

Note that I took Lewis' implication of Hermes and ran with it. Apollo has a golden bow, Hermes has got the winged clothes and caduceus (winged staff wrapped in snakes), golden winged Iris also has a caduceus, Eris has her apple, and she's chatting it up with Dionysus who is rocking the thyrsos.

Random woman with pine needle hair is a tree spirit.

Note that the mistaken identity thing is all Eris's doing.

-

[Narnia Index]