the_seafarer | [au] Narnia and the North

"As you will," he says, agreeably, and relinquishes the basket before walking with her to the door that will take them first outside, then to the stable.

For the front door, he offers no glance; its song will be loud enough no matter where they are, he expects.

She's careful to not look around too much as they go; now isn't the time to let her mind wander, say true.

(come rest come)

(come, Reap)

Susan draws a deep breath of the crisp air as they step outside, and looks up at the sky. No moon yet, not this early, and she's grateful for it.

It's brisk but not overly cold, and he thinks the sun will warm the day further still. He'll have to remember Susan's coat, though, for the night; her coat and gloves and scarf, all. Even in the mellowness of the garden, it may get chilly.

The stables, however, are as snug and cozy as could be, when he opens the door and guides her inside, and Susan's many charges give her a few sleepy greetings to see her so early.

"There now, be easy," she murmurs. Susan carries the basket over to the work-table and sets it there, then opens it up and reaches for the tea to pour Caspian a cup before anything else. "There's naught to trouble ye."

The horses make soft sounds as they shift in their comfortable, straw-padded stalls, and Caspian receives his tea with a murmured word of thanks. It's hot and a little sweet, just as he likes it, and as he takes the first sip, he offers up a hope to the Lion that it'll help him to get through first this day, then this night.

He reaches in to pull out one of the apples and polishes it on his sleeve before offering it to her.

"Thankee-sai." Susan takes it with both hands and looks down, turning it over in her fingers.

"When did 'Bert and Alain tell thee they'd come?"

"Morning," he tells her. "I can't recall if they said 'first thing' or nay, but I'd expect them sooner rather than later, I think."

He takes an apple of his own and cleans it off, then bites into it.

"I would, too." Susan sighs and tucks her apple in a pocket long enough to pour herself a cup of coffee, then takes both to sit on a hay-bale and begin her breakfast. "We've not long to wait, then, most likely."

He comes to sit near her and sips again at his tea, then nods. "Aye."

If anything, he's almost surprised the two gunslingers aren't here already, lurking about in wait.

She nods, then shifts a little closer to lean her head against his shoulder. Talking seems like too much effort.

Caspian sets one arm around her – with a breakfast like this, he really only needs one hand. He has some fruit and cheese and several more cups of tea, coaxing her gently as he eats to have a little more breakfast of her own.

He's kind and caring and she'd not see him worried, say true, so Susan finishes the apple and an orange with it, then nibbles on a few of the pecans they'd been given while she finishes a second cup of the coffee, which is hot and strong enough to keep her moving for a week on any normal day.

Still, the waiting's difficult. She finds herself drifting, listening for the sound of whispers and feeling the pull of the front door like a dragging ache at her bones.

But when the sound of boot-steps approaches, she jerks her head up, tension thrumming through her as she stares at the stable-door.

For a moment, he wishes he'd brought his blade – but there's nothing he can protect her from with such a thing, not for this. Still, when she tenses, he does, also, his hand falling in a thoughtless reflex to where he'd have his dagger on his belt if he'd dressed for battle today.

But it's only Alain and Cuthbert, as expected, and he relaxes a little to see them. "Good morning," he offers, though it's more a pleasantry than anything else. Regardless of the weather, there's not much good about this day, not for any of them.

"Hile and merry greet the day," Alain says easily, ignoring the quick look Cuthbert shoots him at that. "How do ye both fare?"

"Merry see, merry be," Susan says, a little wryly. "Well enough, saving my own megrims and visions."

"Visions?" 'Bert puts in, a little sharp.

Caspian offers out the flask of tea to Alain. "There's some left in here, if you'd like," he says, and glances at Cuthbert, then to Susan.

"Coffee, too, in the other," Susan adds, as Alain accepts the tea with a nod of thanks. "If ye'd like, 'Bert."

She doesn't miss Caspian's glance, and gives him a small reassuring nod. "I've no secrets from them," she reassures him, softly, before turning back to Cuthbert.

"Aye, visions; but more of a bad dream than aught else." She puts all the certainty she can in her voice, and is not entirely surprised when it doesn't work. Cuthbert frowns. "Why don't you let us be the judge of that?"

He bites his tongue – after all, Cuthbert's not wrong, but it goes against everything in Caspian not to take issue with it all the same. "She dreamed of the night she was taken," he tells the gunslingers.

"Only a little," she hastens to assure them - all of them, all three together here. "And it were more I were - were confused, for a second or two, when I woke. Because - because I were dreaming - because everything were pink."

"Well, that's certainly interesting, isn't it, Alain?" Cuthbert's tone is carefully light, but there's bright sharp shock in the gunslinger's eyes and a sudden increase to the tension singing through his body like a tight-strung wire. Alain's already setting his tea aside.

"Did it feel like it did before, Sue?" His glance shifts to Caspian. "Did ye see it, too?"

He shakes his head. "No pink," he reports. "I saw nothing."

Only Susan, with her eyes open and unseeing, curled into a tight little ball under the covers.

"Good," Cuthbert observes, although his tension doesn't relax. "The last thing we need's for the damn grapefruit to show up here."

Susan shakes her head. "Not like - mayhap a little, with the shell, but not the filthy sheen of it when Rhea... not like that. It's why I - it's only a dream, I wot."

"You're probably right." Alain's voice is easy and warm. "But if this day's bringing some trap left buried back to the top of your mind, I'd have it out and no mistake. Will'ee let me look?"

His arm is still behind Susan, though not around her, and he shifts to look at her.

"Alain may be right," he says, gently.

“It were just a dream,” she argues. “I trust ye, Alain, so aye, if ye’d wish then of course ye may, but it were only a dream. If it’d been aught else ye’d have found it before.”

“I didn’t look for other traps before.” Alain doesn’t let the guilt that spears through him now interfere. They’d all failed her in Mejis, and he’d failed her a second time here by not finding the not-man in the stables before she’d been approached; there won’t be a third. “And I’ve learned a few things since then, of Rhea’s tricks and the Bends both.”

It’d been one of the things he’d sought Vannay for, after they’d returned.

“I still say ye’d have found it.” But Susan holds her hands out to him, and he takes them lightly in his before he looks up at Caspian. “I’ll need to take her deep. Don’t be alarmed.”

Caspian meets his glance and nods, though he has more than a few worries about all this himself. "Go on," he murmurs, and braces himself for whatever's to come.

"Do you need the shell?" Cuthbert asks, intent and serious. Susan's glance flicks back and forth between them, wide-eyed and unafraid. Alain considers for a moment, then nods. "Best we not risk I not reach far enough otherwise, not for this. Make sure she can hear all of us."

Cuthbert nods, draws one of the weapons at his hips, and shucks a bullet from it into his fingers. He hunkers down on his heels in front of Susan and gives her a quick smile. "You know how this goes. Watch the shell, Sue. Watch it close, I beg." As he talks, he makes it dance back and forth over his fingers, deft and nimble, and light winks off the casing. Back and forth, back and forth. "That's it-- gods."

For Susan, watching the flickering light from the shell, is already gone. Her lashes flutter as fog-gray eyes close. Cuthbert swallows hard. "Do ye hear me, Susan?"

"I do." Soft but clear, in a dreamy tone. "Cuthbert Allgood of Gilead. I hear ye, 'Bert."

"Good girl," he murmurs. "There's two others here with me as well. Alain, and Caspian. I'd have you hear them when they speak, as well as myself."

He nods to Caspian.

He takes a quick, hard breath. "By the Lion, that was quick."

Cuthbert seems to think so, too, gauging by his response. Caspian breathes in and settles himself, then speaks to Susan, his voice quiet but clear and steady. "Here I am, Susan. Do you hear me?"

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