Cuthbert looks like he's going to be sick, Caspian's as pale as salt, and Alain doesn't feel all that well himself. He bears down, holding fast to Susan's fingers with his hands and to her dreaming, drifting mind with the touch.

"Rhea's not here," he says. "She can't hurt ye now, Sue. Do ye believe me?"

"Aye, I kennit," she says, in her own voice, and dreamy though it might be it's worlds better than before. "Even if she were she couldn't. Not ever again. Ye wouldn't let her."

"You're right. We wouldn't." Not just the three of them, either, but that's a little too much for this. "Sue, listen carefully, this is important. Do you know why everything was pink in your dream?"

"Because it's broken," Susan tells them.