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Chapter Text

There were warnings, oh yes. Even before she rose from bed, Susan knew it would be a trying day.

Peter's bellow awakened her. Her brother, against all wisdom, advice, and common sense, had obviously attempted to get up and see to his needs by himself, thereby aggravating his leg injury, again. She heard Peter's choice swearing - the High King had been taught by his captains to curse like a soldier or not at all. Consequently, though rare, his invective when expressed was fluent and vivid. There was the sound of a door opening and the calming words of Mr. Hoberry, the Faun, trying to gently assist the High King, who was the most ornery, ill-tempered patient in the world.

This time Peter had hurt himself in a capsized rowboat, in a pond. The High King of Narnia was to boats as oil was to water and Hummingbirds and Otters to everyone else in existence. They did not mix.

In the hall, she could hear the shuffling, murmurs, and clicking claws that signaled the beginning change from night to day guard.

She counted, 3-2-1 and then there was the polite scratch on her door.

"Come in, Willa," Susan called. "I am up." Making good on her promise, she swung her legs out of the bed. Up, but not ready was a distinction that Lady Willa appreciated and would not criticise her for. The Rat pushed open the door, slid into Susan's bedchamber, and closed it behind her.

"Good morning, Queen Susan!" It was time for the Head of the Narnian Mischief to give her Queen the daily security briefing and nothing would dissuade Lady Willa from that sacred duty.

But first, the Rat nosed about Susan's room, under the bed, behind the curtains, into the cupboards, and in the wash area, all to satisfy herself that there was no intruder or eavesdropper and that no harm had befallen her Queen in the night. Then, while Susan prepared for the day, Willa both briefed her and served as lady's maid and valet.

It had been their routine for years

She splashed water on her face. "What news, good Lady?"

Willa handed her a towel. "We had word that the Queen Lucy safely arrived in the Western Wood with the forest folk. No trouble at all."

"Wonderful! I hope they have a lovely time and that the weather holds." Susan did not begrudge her sister the 10-day holiday each year of wine, song, dancing with the beings of the Wood, and their continual search for Bacchus and the Meanads. Truly. Not at all. Well, maybe a little. Lucy never would say whether her search was successful – given the state of Lucy and (what remained of) her clothing when she returned, Susan suspected that the wine god and his wild girls had been located and thoroughly reconnoitered.  But if Lucy admitted to it, then perhaps that would eliminate one of her excuses for the annual excursion.

She sat at her mirror and quickly brushed her hair. With Willa handing her the clips and ties, she was able to quickly tame it into an orderly braid.

"And what of my brothers?"

"You probably heard the High King. Mr. Hoberry was with him now and the Physician is attending."

"And now that Lucy is gone, it's too late to force him to take the cordial. Next time, Willa, remind me and we shall slip the cordial in his morning coffee. Sparing us his ill temper when he's laid up is worth a precious drop."

"I heard more sneezing from King Edmund and Banker Morgan. The Physician will bring them more of that salt water to inhale in their noses."

Willa was always very complete.

"It is unfortunate that their allergies moved right into prodigious head colds. Likely, neither is fit for any companionship except the other." She took another pin from Willa's paw and patted her braid into place. "Any word about Flax and Shadow?"

"I stopped by the Crow Murder before coming to the Palace, but no sightings have come in yet, my Queen. That's to be expected. We only sent the patrols out last night. I suspect we'll hear soon."

"With Lucy gone and Peter and Edmund in various stages of incapacitation, it looks like I shall have to ride out to fetch our wayward Llamas."

As she rose from her seat, there was a scratch at the door. "Come in, Lambert."

Her Wolf-Guard pushed open the door. "Good morning, my Queen, Lady Willa."

"Good morning, Lambert." She went to her wardrobe – no guests, no petitioners, and possibly a hard day's ride – and drew out and quickly pulled on a tunic, split skirt, and vest.

She crouched down so that the Willa could draw the laces on her back. For more formal occasions, she needed someone with hands but for today's tasks, the Rat could get them tight and neat enough.

"One last thing," Willa said. "There's a message just arrived by Bird from Lord Peridan on Galma. It's waiting for you in the breakfast room."

Lambert growled, the sound at first muffled by the riding boots he dropped at her feet.

"Oh dear," Susan agreed. "That is unlikely to be good news."

She quickly pulled on the socks and hopped about to get her feet into the boots. What would non-Narnians think if they knew that the elegant Gentle Queen of Narnia dressed every day with the aid of a male Wolf and a Lady Rat?

"No, it's likely not good at all," Willa said. "Princess Lupeeta should have returned to Galma yesterday, so maybe it's something about that."

"I do so like her. She is such an impressive and accomplished woman. She could be a true friend to Narnia. I hope nothing has occurred to endanger that."

Ready to do battle as it were, Susan followed the sounds of sneezing first. With Lucy gone, it also meant no cordial for Edmund and Morgan, though they'd given up administering it for Edmund's seasonal allergies years ago. They would have run out of cordial in very short order.

"Ed? Morgan? Do you need anything?"

"Decapitation?" Edmund wheezed.

"A drain?" Morgan gasped.

She gently pushed open their door. Her brother and his wife were in bed, red-nosed, red-eyed, and looking bleary and resigned.

"I'll have Mrs. Furner send up a tray with hot tea and soup."

Edmund nodded and waved a handkerchief. "How's Peter?"

"Intolerable. To that end, should you feel up to the task, I think we need an edict forbidding the High King of Narnia from coming within 50 paces of anything that floats, from a Marsh-wiggle raft to the finest galleon of our fleet."

"Excellent idea!" Morgan exclaimed. "We could…" Whatever she was going to say was lost in a hacking cough.

"If there's anything urgent, I could help," Edmund said. It would have been more credible if not interrupted by a tremendous sneeze. "I know Lucy's off making merry."

"Just get better sooner," Susan said, "which you shall do by doing just as you are. And Peter is perfectly capable, so long as he neither moves nor communicates."

She followed the grumbles, complaints, and pungent smelling salve to Peter's door.

Her brother was, at least, in a chair, leg propped up, and body tensed, as one would be, when the Physician was attending.

"Peter, I shall see to today's tasks. You shall use your crutch, take your medicine, do whatever the Physician and Mrs. Furner say, and if you utter a cross word to anyone, and most especially, Cook, we shall tie you to a chair, the Dwarfs will carry you down to the Splendour Hyaline, and we'll put you out to sea for a week."

"And a good morning to you, too, my Sister." His snarl belied the expressed words. "I won't do anything."

"Need I remind you, the last time you were in this state, you made Cook cry."

The Physician looked up suddenly and his tail quills swerved dangerously close to Peter. Her brother yelped and jerked away in surprise.

"Sorry," the Physician muttered and swished away. "That is a remarkable report. Cook wept tears? I didn't think her species could do that."

"Only when terribly provoked," Susan answered. "And, Peter, if you need a further incentive to meek, silent compliance, I remind you that the last time, you so upset Cook, it took a month for the smell of offal to clear."

She stepped in, kissed his flushed cheek, and moved away before the Physician drew too close. "All is well, though I will likely be riding out today to return our navigationally challenged Llamas."

Peter huffed, part laughter, part resignation. "Thank you, Su, and better you than me for that sorry task. I would surely knock their heads and bring them back with the humiliation of a lasso around their necks."

"It may come to that, alas."

He waved her away and turned to the Physician. "Alright, Pallus, yes, I've threatened enough; I shall take that awful syrup."

Mr. Hoberry, gifted with prescience, was pouring out her tea, just as she arrived in the breakfast room.

Lambert went to his usual position along the wall, Willa nosed about under the table for scraps, and Susan took her seat.

"Thank you, Mr. Hoberry, for your assistance with Peter this morning. He has promised me good behavior and is under strict orders to stay away from Cook."

"Our collective digestive well-being is grateful, your Majesty," the Faun replied.

"And don't say a word, Lambert! I know you are fond of offal but the rest of us are not!"

"Jalur and I do prefer it raw," Lambert replied mildly.

The morning correspondence was set out on a tray and she quickly sorted through it between bites – Mr. Hoberry would see that the obvious financial and legal documents were sent to Morgan and Edmund – perhaps they might prove diverting during their convalescence. This was their honeymoon period, after all.

Lucy's letters were always numerous but they all were from her regular correspondents – those who had hands or had someone who could take down a dictation – and Susan saw nothing that could not await her sister's return.

"There were three for the High King. I put them all at the bottom since they all stink," Willa said, pulling herself up into Lucy's chair. Susan handed the Rat a muffin from the basket on the table.

"Hmmm, yes, I can smell that." Love letters. "I will take charge of those until it is safe to give them to Peter without the risk of combining with his injury to create a situation that would have us stewing in pig intestine for a month."

"Especially not stewed," Lambert added unhelpfully.

"Which leaves this suddenly arrived and highly unusual missive from Our Lord Ambassador Peridan." She studied letter – it bore Peridan's seal, a cat of all things. The man was such a contradiction, though very, very good with people and still seemingly loyal to them. And, Peridan was one of their few Ambassadors who had hands, though his were usually clutched around a bottle.

Susan carefully cracked the seal, read the letter. Read it again.

Lambert and Willa's ears both twitched and Mr. Hoberry pretended to hear nothing at all when the Gentle Queen uttered a most ungentle oath.

ooOOoo

Usually, she, Lambert, and Willa acted as counter-balances to one another. Today, they were as furious as Susan herself was.

Of all the reckless, ridiculous stunts. She was glad Edmund was abed, both because the Crows were his special province and because, by the Lion, there'd be no presumption of innocence here. Of course it was the Crows. There could be no other who would be so brazenly daring.

She stalked out of the Palace, calling, "Sallowpad!"

"The Chief flew with Queen Lucy," Willa said. Susan had to slow her pace because the Rat wasn't moving as quickly as she used to. "If he'd been here, this wouldn't have happened."

In a voice loud enough to carry, Susan asked, "If I were a Crow who had stolen a gown from Princess Lupeeta's room, where would I hide it?"

"The Counting House in the Roost," Lambert said. His fur had risen along his back and around his ruff and his tail was stiff.

"Yes, I think so and it had better be there!" Susan stalked down the Palace path to the Roost. She could see some of the Birds of the Murder flitting about and cawing to one another. They knew she was coming and they knew why. As Peter would say, it was time for many Most Royal We's.

To the air, she called, "I expect all Crows to attend upon Us, now! And what We seek had better be there by the time We get there, or it will be a Long Winter before another Crow sees another Shiny."

The caws and calls became more subdued by the time she arrived in the yard where the Crows of the Narnia Murder had their roosts. Many of them were clustered around and on top of the Counting House shed.

"Kangee! Harah! You will attend upon Us. Now!"

Harah and Kangee were a bonded pair, senior Crows in the Murder, and surely had had a role in this. As bold as Crows were, she didn't think they would have done this without the knowledge of, and possibly even direct assistance from, the top of their leadership. With Sallowpad gone, that meant Harah and Kangee.

Susan ducked into the shed, Lambert and Willa with her. Turning about, it was a dim, dusty, haphazard place with perches, feathers, and detritus. She pushed the one shutter open wider to let in more light.

"It's here, your Majesty," Willa said.

She'd forlornly hoped it wouldn't be but, no, here was the evidence of the Crows' monstrous crime. The Princess Lupeeta's long, white, pearl-encrusted gown hung from a perch in a corner. "Willa, do you see any injury to it?"

Willa was on her hind legs, checking it over, carefully. "No, though if a pearl or two had been removed, it'd be hard to tell, given how many there are."

There was a rude pfbbbt sound from above that choked off when Lambert growled menacingly. It was reassuring, she supposed, that the Crows hadn't stolen the extraordinary dress in order to shred it to pieces.

It was truly the most stunning gown she had ever seen. Lupeeta was breathtakingly beautiful and the pearls had shined luminously against her dark skin. Covered with pearls as it was, the gown was, obviously, worth a fortune and had taken skilled crafters and seamstresses months to make. It had been a privilege to see the Princess in something so extravagant and extraordinary.

And the Crows had made off with it. Because it was pretty. And shiny.

She could hear the scratching of Crow claws on the roof of the shed. A shadow flitted across the white of the gown; Harah and Kangee flapped into the shed and landed heavily on the open window ledge looking as guiltily shifty as Crows could be.

"Well?" Susan demanded. "What have you to say for yourselves?"

"We were going to return it," Harah finally said, shifting from foot to foot. Sounding dejected, the Crow added, "It was so pretty we just wanted to stare at it some more. We couldn't bear to see it go back with the Princess to Galma."

"We didn't remove a single pearl!" Kangee added.

"Small mercy that when you should have never stolen it in the first instance!" She did feel some pity for something so irresistibly appealing to a Crow. Each pearl was unique and the gown was comprised of scores, hundreds of individual, iridescent, shining pearls carefully sewn into the silken drape of the dress. It was captivating, and she didn't have the eyesight the Crows did. Still… "This was obviously something of great value, utterly unique, and you all committed gross impropriety in stealing it from our honoured guest."

"Queen Susan?" Willa said in that tone that never presaged good news. "There's another dress here."

She whirled about. "WHAT!?"

Lambert echoed her own mood perfectly and growled again at the Crows.

Willa pushed aside the curtain of pearls and behind it was, indeed, another gown with odd, horizontal lines of alternating blue and black. She supposed it shimmered a little. "The pearl dress, I understand, but why this other? What is so remarkable about a blue and black striped gown?"

"Because it's not just blue-blue-berry and black-rock," Harah said. She was using Crow words to describe nuances of colour Humans could not see. "When you look at it through a window, in certain light, some think it looks like fresh cream and gold-gold."

Kangee hopped from the window to the floor and pecked at a large shard of glass that the Crows had stolen from who knew where. "Try it."

"I'll wager two Shinys Queen Susan sees fresh cream and gold-gold," a Crow said from the roof.

Before betting squabbles could break out, Lambert snapped, "Enough! My Queen is in no mood for your games!"

Susan gingerly picked up the glass shard and held it over the dress. "My eyes are not as yours are, Kangee. I doubt I shall see what you do."

"Move it around, into and out of the light from the window," Kangee instructed. Lambert growled again but, curious, Susan did as the Crow asked. And, suddenly… blue and black became white and gold, or as the Crows would say, blue-blue-berry and black-rock turned to fresh cream and gold-gold.

"Goodness, that is remarkable." She moved the glass about, holding it so that it caught the slanting rays of light through the hut's window. "I wonder what causes the effect?"

She should have known better than to pose such a question aloud for the Crows launched into a raucous argument about light, colour, and when colour changed from one to another and how light was absorbed and reflected.

"That is quite enough!" Lambert's snapping growls cut through the squabbling nicely.

"Thank you, Lambert." She tossed the glass aside and stood tall. 

"You Crows have deeply embarrassed Narnia. You have potentially jeopardized profitable relations with the House of Princess Lupeeta. You have embarrassed Us, your Monarchs. For punishment and penance, you must fly these gowns to Lord Peridan at Our Galman diplomatic residence, immediately, and allow him to make amends to the Princess for this grievous affront."

Peridan would know how to best handle the situation. She trusted him to deal with the matter adroitly. If it was really serious, he'd call in his brother, Ambassador Abnur to smooth any ruffled feathers, so to speak.

"Should something of this magnitude every happen again, the King Edmund shall confiscate all your Shinys and Pretties and you forfeit the right to obtain one, ever again. Are We clear?"

There were muted grumblings, ducking heads, and uncomfortable hopping from foot to foot.

"Those dresses will be heavy to fly all the way to Galma," Kangee said, sounding almost repentant.

"They are," Susan replied. "Something that you are intelligent enough to have realised when you stole them in the first place, knowing We would insist upon their return. Nevertheless, the point was valid. "The General and her Gryphon wing shall fly as escort to ensure your safety and the gowns' delivery."

There was real consternation in the Murder now; the Crows did not welcome Gryphon oversight, and the General would not welcome it, either, but the Gryphon would see the task done.

Susan took one last, longing look at the pearl dress; it was gorgeously iridescent and shimmering. Perhaps she could have something similar made for herself…

ooOOoo

Her decisions meant everyone was unhappy.  The General was as unhappy with the order as the Crows. Mrs. Furner wasn't happy because Susan commandeered a good silken sheet, a length of cotton muslin, and oilcloth to carefully wrap the gowns for their voyage.

The only good news, it seemed, was that Cook had no involvement in the proceedings and Peter had made no appearance. Her brother had been sequestered in his office and his Cheetah guards had wisely barred the door, with only Mr. Hoberry and the Physician permitted entrance. Thus, no offal offense had yet occurred.

She penned a hasty note to Peridan.

Ezy Peasy
Naperon
Orders rat

Ambassador Peridan was nearly as adept at Rat and Crow as she and Edmund were and he would know that Susan asked to make whatever amends are necessary, as soon as possible, and report back immediately. Peridan was authorised to act in her name.

Of course, Peridan might also magically arrange for the missing gowns to mysteriously reappear in a sack in a water closet in the Princess Lupeeta's private chambers with an anonymous note of apology.

Best not ask too many questions about that.

Given how foul the mood of everyone with wings, Susan was glad to see them off.

Her hopes for a glass of wine to celebrate one diplomatic crisis hopefully averted were thwarted by the Eagle, Trice, winging down over the Cair Paravel towers just as the Gryphons and Crows cleared the harbour on the north and east heading to Galma.

"I found them!" Trice cried. The Eagle circled down on to the lawns "Queen Susan! I found the Llamas! I tried to get them to turn around but they wouldn't listen and are headed straight for the Giants' Teeth! If we don't stop them, Flax and Shadow are going to get eaten!"

It was days like this when Susan wished Love was not a Hell Bitch.

ooOOoo

To be concluded shortly in Chapter 2, Alpaca Bag.

 During the Three Sentence Ficathon, there were several prompts and fills involving the llamas on the lam in Sun City, Arizona, the theft and mysterious return of Lupita Nyong'o's Oscar gown, and the mysterious viral dress (I saw white and gold - younger eyes in my household saw blue and black).   3SF partners in crime RuanChunXian, Adaese, and Syrena_of_the_lake all helped prompt, inspire, and enable what resulted here.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2, Alpaca Bag

Susan's hopes for a glass of wine to celebrate one diplomatic crisis hopefully averted were thwarted by the Eagle, Trice, winging down over the Cair Paravel towers just as the Gryphons and Crows cleared the harbour on the north and east heading to Galma.

"I found them!" Trice cried. The Eagle circled down on to the lawns "Queen Susan! I found the Llamas! I tried to get them to turn around but they wouldn't listen and are headed straight for the Giants' Teeth! If we don't stop them, they're going to get eaten!"

It was days like this when Susan wished Love was not a Hell Bitch.

But Love was a Hell Bitch which meant that Susan had to groom and tack Love herself, even though she was in a frightful rush and trying to do many things at once. She rattled off orders to the Armsmaster and Swordmaster on the Birds to scout the trail ahead and the swift company to follow behind her as everyone yammered about how Flax and Shadow did not appreciate that calling the mountains that marked part of Narnia's northern border with the Ettins the Giants' Teeth was in no way poetic license.

Love being anything but loving made it all far more complicated.

"You are a terrible burden to me, Love," Susan cooed, tightening the girth on the saddle. The mare rolled her whitened eyes to glare at a passing Dryad groom and raised her back leg in Lambert's direction.

"Oh, do stop with the theatrics." Susan nudged Love so the mare had to shift her weight and the threatening hoof dropped again to the ground.

"Thank you," Lambert said. The sound of his voice made Love pin her ears back flat.

Surely Edmund and Peter always calling the mare Hell Bitch made the poor thing even more defensive, especially of male voices.

Susan did have to be honest about the mare's appalling behavior, though. Male gender and name calling notwithstanding, everyone, save for Susan herself, was in danger of a savage bite or kick. Granted, at least if one of the Dryad grooms was bitten, he or she would simply lose a little sap and sprout a new limb. But just because a Dryad could grow another branch to replace the one that Love had savagely ripped off didn't mean that it didn't hurt when it happened.

"There is no rival for my affection, Love." Susan let the mare rub her head all up and down her front, leaving a trail of gray and white hairs. She adjusted her bow to her back, shouldered her horn across her side, and with a bounce, swung up to the saddle. Love impatiently pawed the ground, eager to be away.

"Trice! Lead the way! Let's find our wayward Llamas and bring them home!"

And tie them to a barn wall.
Would giving Flax a compass and teaching Shadow how to read it solve this problem?
Or was it just that Llama heads were so narrow, there really wasn't space up there with all the teeth and spit?

With some Beasts so very difficult, Susan did wonder at Aslan's wisdom sometimes. Perhaps, the Lion hadn't fully appreciated the repercussions to giving Kangaroos, Hummingbirds, and Otters speech? Or that in giving Llamas insatiable wanderlust, why hadn't Aslan also provided a better directional sense – or, even any sense at all?

They trotted out of the stable yard and with a light pressure Susan applied to her sides, Love broke into an eager canter. Lambert loped next to them and two other Wolves, Lyall and Daci, were fore and rear for extra guard and to provide toothy persuasion for obstinate Llamas. Susan directed Love to the North Path, one, unfortunately that the mare knew well. With the many Ettin incursions, and the yearly testing of the borders by their hostile Giant neighbors, the North Path was used far more often than was peaceable.

Deer scattered and birds took flight as they loped along the trail. There were some cheery calls of the Woodland Narnians to their Queen. Susan waved to her kindly subjects but today was not for visiting, sitting on stumps and politely nibbling the generously offered but ill-tasting fibrous bark biscuits and bitter dandelion stems.

Susan drew Love in a little; the mare was eager and they needed a calm, steady lope that could be sustained, not a hard, tiring gallop. Glancing to the side, the Wolves were following easily – Lambert was accustomed to this pace and Lyall and Daci were strong and swift.

If they'd been further east, they would have had to track the Llamas through the dense Owlwood by scent. But this path was into the open, first damp marsh, then rising to rolling hills in the north and west. Trice flew ahead, circling to mark the trail, waiting until they caught up, and then flying on again. So long as there was light, they could keep this up for hours.

At the fording of the Shribble, Susan called for a brief halt to water. Trice spiraled down and landed awkwardly on the bank. "We've almost caught up to them, Queen Susan. You might even be able to see them, white Flax leading with her black Shadow behind. They're just over the bank on the other side, and already at the foot of the Giants' Teeth."

"And still no sign of Ettins?" Susan asked. This time of year, the Giants frequently came down from the Teeth to look for Narnian game amongst the young of the herds, and never tried to distinguish between Talking and dumb.

"Not yet, Queen Susan.," Trice replied. "I've checked all the caves in the Teeth, and haven't seen anything."

"The caves that we know of," Susan corrected grimly.

"Aye," Trice agreed. A honeycomb of subterranean caverns and tunnels beneath Ettinsmoor and throughout the Teeth allowed the Giants to move about, unseen, until they were nearly to the Narnian border. The caves' complexity and engineering were beyond the ken of the Ettins who now used them – yet another unsavoury relic inherited from Narnia's prior management, as Edmund called it.

"I can see the company coming behind us, too; they aren't far."

Love lifted her head, water dripping from her muzzle, and looked about, but it was only because she had drunk her fill; she was not reacting to any threat the sensitive mare perceived. "Hopefully we will be back across the River and heading home by the time we meet them." Susan gathered the reins and Love obligingly dipped her shoulder to make it easier to mount. She settled again in the saddle.

The Wolves had trotted to the top of the rise, and had their heads up, sniffing the air. From their postures, the Wolves had scented nothing concerning and they would likely be able to sense anything approaching underground.

Empty though they seemed to be, these tense borderlands were oppressive and the Ettins watched them as carefully as Narnia did. Unless they wanted to be seen and to make a point of Narnian might, in this territory, they always moved in unprovocative, swift, discreet groups. They didn't want to goad the Giants into feeling they had to respond – for when they did, it was always violent.

Not hazarding a loud call to the Wolves, Susan waved and trotted toward them. It was time to collect their wandering Llamas before they became Ettin stew, and turn back for home.

The Sun was well into her downward descent and the air much brisker and cooler when they finally caught up with Flax and Shadow.

Though Llamas had no sense, Aslan had blessed them with surprising speed. Flax and Shadow were already, and uncomfortably, at the foot of the Giants' Teeth and skillfully beginning the climb up a rocky slope. It was worryingly noisy. Their hooves sent rocks and pebbles clicking and bouncing back down the incline and Flax kept up a loud, running commentary of every obvious step. "Watch that turn, Shadow!" "Right? Why would we go right? Left is faster!" "We'll be there in no time." "Don't tell me I'm going too slow!"

Lyall and Daci circled around and manage to get ahead of Flax and Shadow and cut off their forward climb. The Wolves planted themselves on the narrow, rocky path.

"Oi! You! Dogs! Out of my way!" Flax bared her long, yellow teeth.

Shadow was looking about and saw Susan riding up behind them. He snaked his neck about and nipped Flax on the rump.

"What?" Flax snapped and turned her head around. Her ears went even flatter against her surly skull than even Love could manage.

"Your Queen orders you to hold!" Susan called. She needed to command their attention but it wasn't wise to speak loudly. Sound carried far over this still, jagged landscape and through the caves of the Teeth.

"Oh. It's you."

"Insolence!" Daci growled. "You dare to speak to your Queen so when she comes here to save you from certain death?"

It was crowded on the path and the footing wasn't good, but Love was nimble and, by putting weight on her hind quarters, gamely pushed her way up to join the others on the slope.

"Save me?" Flax scoffed. "You told us we could go look for the Garden Lord Digory and Lady Polly found that they rode to on the Flying Llama."

Shadow grumbled.

"Yeah, I don't know how two humans rode a Flying Llama either," Flax said in an apparent response to the always silent Shadow.

"Perhaps the Lady Polly and Lord Digory succeeded because Fledge was a Horse, not a Llama?" Lambert spoke so dryly Susan had to swallow a dry guffaw.

"And you know that because you were there?" Flax retorted.

"No more than you were, Llama," Lambert said.

Both Shadow and Flax barred their teeth and pulled their head backs; the Wolves, to their credit, didn't flinch though spit was surely going to fly.

"Hold!" Susan ordered. "Shadow, Flax, truly, your Monarchs have no quarrel with your quest but you are dangerously astray and off course and we must leave here at once."

Shadow grunted and shook his head.

"Right," Flax said, responding to Shadow. "There's nothing wrong. There's nothing here."

"Except the Giants that will eat you?" Lyall had inherited the sardonic humour from his father, Lambert.

Shadow snorted.

"Yeah, what Shadow said," Flax countered, though of course Shadow had said nothing at all. "There aren't any Giants in the Western Wild. You dogs were never very smart. There's a reason why He and She Llamas were on Aslan's Council."

"Aslan chose He and She Ravens, not Llamas, for the First Great Council," Lyall countered.

Flax pinned her ears back flatter still. "How do you know? Were you there? No, you weren't."

"Well, neither were you," Daci said. Flax bared her teeth at the Wolf.

"But you were to go West," Susan put in before this devolved into a typical, fur-flying, Narnian argument. Ask three Narnians a question and you would get four answers.

She pointed to where the Sun was sliding down below the mountains. "There. The Sun is going down, in the West. It rises from Aslan's own Country, at the end of the Eastern Sea, in the East. You are not going West. You are going North, into Ettinsmoor where, if you are caught by the Giants who live here, you will surely be eaten."

Her point was punctuated by several dire things all occurring at once. Trice, still circling overhead, cried out – making a sound that would seem like that of a dumb eagle but that any Narnian recognized as a warning.

Rocks and pebbles began sliding and bouncing down the slope; the three Wolves all raised their noses and growled; beneath her Love snorted and shied.

"My Queen!"

"Yes, Lambert, I know. Easy, Love, we're leaving in a moment." She steadied the mare between her legs and loosened the rope looped on her saddle – Peter's idea she would now threaten. "You, Flax and Shadow, you have endangered Us and yourselves. Giants are coming and if you do not come with me, now, you will die, horribly. On My Authority, these Wolves may bite and chase you, all the way back to Narnia." She brandished the rope. "I shall make you suffer the indignity of rope around your necks and haul you back myself, with these Wolves driving you onward, if you do not comply. I am your Queen, sworn to protect what you are determined to throw away and I shall save you, if you are too foolish to save yourselves."

The earth began to shake and a stench of filth and rotten eggs rolled over them.

Before the Llamas could respond, Susan signaled to the Wolves. Growling and snapping, the Wolves lunged at the hapless Llamas and drove them past her and down the slope. Love spun about to go after them. Susan gave the mare her head and let her harry and nip the Llamas. Together, they galloped Shadow and the vociferously protesting Flax down and out of the Teeth, over the plain and back across the Shribble.

Only muted roars and a putrid smell chased them.

ooOOoo

"You mean you've not heard the story of how Gale the Llama killed the Dragon of the Lone Islands?" Flax sounded deeply offended.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Daci snapped, "King Gale of Narnia was not a Llama!"

"And you were there?" Flax said, for the thirteenth time.

With a slicing hand downward, Susan silently reinforced the order to her disgruntled company to continue to let Flax ramble. They had met the troop from Cair Paravel at the fording of the Shribble and so they were a fine, large, relaxed company for the return home – a company who was becoming increasingly irritable at Flax's outlandish boasts. Susan, however, was enormously entertained and had decided to pass their leisurely trip by discerning just how much folklore and history of Narnia had been appropriated by Llamas.

The downside, however, was that Flax's cracked claims and insults were severely vexing the other Narnians, save Lambert. It was not in the Narnian nature to let a slight pass unchallenged. She and Lambert had both learned greater equanimity during their long years in diplomatic endeavors.

"I believe I have heard the story," Lambert temporized, "though possibly the role of the noble Llama was omitted."

"How can you tell the story of Gale the Llama killing the Dragon and conquering the Lone Islands without talking about Gale the Llama?"

"With effort, surely," Susan said.

Shadow grunted.

"I'm getting to that," Flax said. "Llamas obviously have been slaying monsters for a long time. If you'd given us the chance, Shadow and I would've brought those Giants down."

"As Olvin the Llama did in defeating the Giant Pire to win the hand of the fair Lady Llama Liln?" Susan asked.

"I'm glad someone got the story right!" Flax crowed as Shadow chuffed his approval.

Casting a sly look that Susan knew to be wary of, Lambert blandly said, "Reports are that the sleigh of Father Christmas is drawn by magical, flying Llamas, who surely are descended of the great Llama, Fledge."

"Right you are! I've even…"

"No, it is not," Susan countered firmly. Really. I've had quite enough of this idiot's arrogance. "Large, brown reindeer draw Father Christmas' sleigh."

"And you were there?" Flax said, for the fourteenth time.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I was, as my Gifts of Horn and Bow attest" Susan said with satisfaction. "And I know for certain that you were not."

The guffaws, snorts, titters, and tail wags among the company so perturbed Love, the mare squealed and tried to kick Lyall. Susan called a halt to the prodding and the remainder of the ride home was quiet.

ooOOoo

It was late and dark when they finally entered the greater Palace proper. At this hour, Susan didn't want to foist the Llamas upon some poor innocent and she wanted to be sure they stayed put for the night.

She dismounted and walked with Lambert to consult. "I need to give them a short-term goal they can fix upon to the exclusion of all else."

"All the better if for the greater glory of Llamas," Lambert answered.

The solution came to her as they neared the pastures where the dumb herd was kept as game for the Carnivores.

"You have the important duty of protecting the dumb goats and sheep for the rest of the night, from the dumb predators only. Do you understand?"

Though she emphasized the point repeatedly, they were off to a bad start as soon as Susan turned the Llamas in with the dumb herd. Shadow promptly rushed the Wolves, growling and spitting at them and Flax chased the sheep and goats away to the far end of the pasture. "We'll keep you safe from those things with big teeth."

Guard llamas worked well in Archenland; why couldn't supposedly more intelligent ones work in Narnia? On that path surely lay a pounding headache.

"Consult Banker Morgan," Lambert suggested. "She can manage Otters. Perhaps she can be successful with Llamas."

Cheery torches and welcoming guards at the entry gate of the Palace's outer walls lightened the night and her mood. The company peeled off to find their own dens, stalls, roosts, and beds, leaving Susan, Lambert and Love to trudge onward to the stables.

As Love was the Hell Bitch, Susan couldn't yet see to her own fatigue and hunger and had to untack the mare, rub her down, and groom her. Love was weary enough that her attempts to bite and kick Lambert were very half-hearted.

"You've earned your rest, both of you," Susan said.

When Love's eyes were half-closed and her nose buried in a mound of sweet hay, Susan nudged the stall door closed with her hip and hung up the tack. "I'll clean it tomorrow. Or maybe someone will pity me and clean it before I wake up."

"Yes," Lambert said, sounding, Susan thought, a little odd. Her Guard had been very quiet as they'd come inside the Palace walls, though she had assumed it was to avoid riling Love. In the dim light of the barn, she had to step close to the Wolf to see him clearly. "Are you well, Friend?"

"I am, my Queen. You, however…"

Oh no.

"Lambert, are you drooling?"

The Wolf licked his jaws and the straw around her boots was damp. "For your sake, I fear so."

Susan went out of the barn and left behind the good, wholesome smells of straw, horse, and manure. She inhaled deeply.

And gagged.

Lambert at least had the courtesy to not seem happy about the offal smell. He managed to not wag his tail as she plodded up the path to the Palace. Her steps grew heavier as the malodour grew.

"King Edmund and Banker Morgan await you," Lambert said. How he could smell anything over the stink was a marvel of the Wolf nose.

Her brother and his wife were sitting on the grass at the base of the Palace's front steps, in a pool of lantern light, a puddle of blankets, and pillows scattered about them.

"Congratulations, sister," Edmund called, waving. "We received word from Trice. Through your auspices, our navigationally challenged Llamas are saved and our border peace preserved."

"And the Crows made it to Galma," Morgan added. "And good news from there, too. Peridan sent a Bird that The daisies are yellow."

That was Rat and Crow for "All is well, and, if it isn't, I should be able to fix it without paying a bribe so large it will bankrupt us."

"And the bad news, I can smell for myself," Susan replied, feeling glum and very grumpy.

"Well, on that front, the good news is that the stench cleared our head colds," Edmund said.

"The bad news is, we can now smell the stench, too," Morgan added. "Which is why we're camped out here for the night."

"Mr. Hoberry and Mrs. Furner left some things for you." Edmund gestured to a promising basket filled with useful, lovely, and tasty items that bore no resemblance to boiled guts and brains.

She sat on the step and Edmund rose from his nest to pour wine into a sturdy clay mug for her. Mr. Hoberry would deserve special commendation tomorrow for providing her favorite of the best Galman wines in the cellar.

She took several deep sips, feeling some of the tension leach out, and Edmund refilled her cup. As much as a wash would be nice, she wasn't going any closer to the Palace. Though, Mrs. Furner had surely anticipated her need – Susan thought that towel in the basket was wrapped around a skin of clean water. "What happened?"

"The usual." Edmund returned to his makeshift bedroll. "Tripping over a rug someone named Peter should not have been walking upon, bellowing, spilled soup, a thrown cookbook…"

"And thrown knife," Morgan injected. "Huge. Very sharp."

"Indeed," Edmund continued. "Then came more yelling and finally, tears and crying."

"I didn't know Cook could cry," Morgan mused. "The Physician and I are going to document it for a Calormene medical journal."

"And so, my gentle and sorely tested sister, we have attempted to anticipate your needs. You are welcome to join us out here for the night or you may find your own quiet place to plot revenge upon the High King of Narnia for which, short of murder, I grant you clemency. In advance."

"I told him he couldn't do that," Morgan retorted.

"A petition for appeal, my wife, I am happy to entertain…"

"And deny."

Susan rose and gathered her basket and a blanket. "Thank you for the offer, but I have an alternative, assuming assurance of your clemency."

"You do," Edmund said, far too glibly.

"I am going to spend the night with Love. Peter shall attend upon me there, in her stall, in the morning."

Edmund made a little yelping sound of pity. Morgan laughed.

"And if you renege on my promised clemency, you shall accompany him," Susan warned.

She lugged her basket and blanket back to the barn. Love was already down for the night, resting in the straw. She made no complaint when Susan settled next to her and shared the basket of bread, cheese, and cold meat with Lambert.

"It's not offal," she said, not-an-apology.

"I prefer the company here, to the food in the Palace, my Queen."

"As magnanimous as that sounds, Friend, I also know you prefer your guts raw rather than cooked."

"For which, again, I state that the company is superior recompense."

Lambert settled in the stall's doorway; his yellow eyes glowed in the dark, all the light she needed or wanted for the night. He would guard his Queen's repose.

Susan spread the blanket out in the soft straw and drew the covers about her. "Lambert, do you suppose the tale of Olvin the Llama's battle with the Giant Pire to win the hand of the fair Lady Llama Liln begins as all other Narnian tales do?"

"Surely."

In his beautiful voice, so melodic, even Love twitched a calm ear to listen, Lambert began, "Come now Gentle Beasts and Birds, come now Daughter of Eve, that might you hear of the Battle of the Giant Pire. To my pups I told this tale, as I learned it from my Dam and Sire, as they from theirs, back generation upon generation. The Gentle Beasts tell the tale in cave, nest, and den, in wood, mountain, meadow, and pond, so that we might remember it. For though Dwarfs build, and Birds fly, and Fauns dance, Naiads flow, and…"

"And Llamas get lost," Susan added. Lambert's voice would carry her to sleep.

"… for though Llamas get lost and Dryads green, the Good Beasts of Narnia remember. So, my Queen, heed my words. Stop and listen with your sensitive and gentle heart so that you may also know of the bravery of Olvin the Llama, his battle with the Giant Pire, and how Olvin won the hand… hoof, that is, of the fair Lady Llama Liln. Harken to me now."

"It begins thus…"

End

Rthstewart March 2015

I still owe a few very so grateful thank yous for the lovely comments and reviews.

The great llama escape can be seen here, Baby They Were Born To Run.  Or to the William Tell Overture.

Guard llamas are for real.

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