THEwindneverfailedbutitgrewgentlereverydaytillatlengththewaveswerelittlemorethanripples,andtheshipglidedonhourafterhouralmostasiftheyweresailingonalake.AndeverynighttheysawthatthereroseintheeastnewconstellationswhichnoonehadeverseeninNarniaandperhaps,asLucythoughtwithamixtureofjoyandfear,nolivingeyehadseenatall.Thosenewstarswerebigandbrightandthenightswerewarm.Mostofthemsleptondeckandtalkedfarintothenightorhungovertheship’ssidewatchingtheluminousdanceofthefoamthrownupbytheirbows.
Onaneveningofstartlingbeauty,whenthesunsetbehindthemwassocrimsonandpurpleandwidelyspreadthattheveryskyitselfseemedtohavegrownlarger,theycameinsightoflandontheirstarboardbow.Itcameslowlynearerandthelightbehindthemmadeitlookasifthecapesandheadlandsofthisnewcountrywereallonfire.Butpresentlytheyweresailingalongitscoastanditswesterncapenowroseupasternofthem,blackagainsttheredskyandsharpasifitwascutoutofcardboard,andthentheycouldseebetterwhatthiscountrywaslike.Ithadnomountainsbutmanygentlehillswithslopeslikepillows.Anattractivesmellcamefromit-whatLucycalled“adim,purplekindofsmell”,whichEdmundsaid(andRhincethought)wasrot,butCaspiansaid,“Iknowwhatyoumean.”
Theysailedonagoodway,pastpointafterpoint,hopingtofindanicedeepharbour,buthadtocontentthemselvesintheendwithawideandshallowbay.ThoughithadseemedcalmoutatseatherewasofcoursesurfbreakingonthesandandtheycouldnotbringtheDawnTreaderasfarinastheywouldhaveliked.Theydroppedanchoragoodwayfromthebeachandhadawetandtumblinglandingintheboat.TheLordRhoopremainedonboardtheDawnTreader.Hewishedtoseenomoreislands.Allthetimethattheyremainedinthiscountrythesoundofthelongbreakerswasintheirears.
TwomenwerelefttoguardtheboatandCaspianledtheothersinland,butnotfarbecauseitwastoolateforexploringandthelightwouldsoongo.Buttherewasnoneedtogofartofindanadventure.Thelevelvalleywhichlayattheheadofthebayshowednoroadortrackorothersignofhabitation.UnderfootwastinespringyturfdottedhereandtherewithalowbushygrowthwhichEdmundandLucytookforheather.Eustace,whowasreallyrathergoodatbotany;saiditwasn’t,andhewasprobablyright;butitwassomethingofverymuchthesamekind.
Whentheyhadgonelessthanabowshotfromtheshore,Driniansaid,“Look!What’sthat?”andeveryonestopped.
“Aretheygreattrees?”saidCaspian.
“Towers,lthink,”saidEustace.
“Itmightbegiants,”saidEdmundinalowervoice.
“Thewaytofindoutistogorightivamongthem,”saidReepicheep,drawinghisswordandpatteringoffaheadofeveryoneelse.
“Ithinkit’saruin,”saidLucywhentheyhadgotagooddealnearer,andherguesswasthebestsofar.Whattheynowsawwasawideoblongspaceflaggedwithsmoothstonesandsurroundedbygreypillarsbutunroofed.Andfromendtoendofitranalongtablelaidwitharichcrimsoncloththatcamedownnearlytothepavement.Ateithersideofitweremanychairsofstonerichlycarvedandwithsilkencushionsupontheseats.Butonthetableitselftherewassetoutsuchabanquetashadneverbeenseen,notevenwhenPetertheHighKingkepthiscourtatCairParavel.Therewereturkeysandgeeseandpeacocks,therewereboars’headsandsidesofvenison,therewerepiesshapedlikeshipsunderfullsailorlikedragonsandelephants,therewereicepuddingsandbrightlobstersandgleamingsalmon,therewerenutsandgrapes,pineapplesandpeaches,pomegranatesandmelonsandtomatoes.Therewereflagonsofgoldandsilverandcuriouslywroughtglass;andthesmellofthefruitandthewineblewtowardsthemlikeapromiseofallhappiness.
“Isay!”saidLucy.
Theycamenearerandnearer,allveryquietly.
“Butwherearetheguests?”askedEustace.
“Wecanprovidethat,Sir,”saidRhince.
“Look!”saidEdmundsharply.Theywereactuallywithinthepillarsnowandstandingonthepavement.EveryonelookedwhereEdmundhadpointed.Thechairswerenotallempty.Attheheadofthetableandinthetwoplacesbesideittherewassomething-orpossiblythreesomethings.
“Whatarethose?”askedLucyinawhisper.“Itlookslikethreebeaverssittingonthetable.”
“Orahugebird’snest,”saidEdmund.
“Itlooksmorelikeahaystacktome,”saidCaspian.
Reepicheepranforward,jumpedonachairandthenceontothetable,andranalongit,threadinghiswayasnimblyasadancerbetweenjewelledcupsandpyramidsoffruitand-ivorysalt-cellars.Heranrightuptothemysteriousgreymassattheend:peered,touched,andthencalledout:
“Thesewillnotfight,Ithink.”
Everyonenowcamecloseandsawthatwhatsatinthosethreechairswasthreemen,thoughhardtorecognizeasmentillyoulookedclosely.Theirhair,whichwasgrey,hadgrownovertheireyestillitalmostconcealedtheir,faces,andtheirbeardshadgrownoverthetable,climbingpoundandentwiningplatesandgobletsasbrambles;entwineafence,until,allmixedinonegreatmatofhair,theyflowedovertheedgeanddowntothefloor.Andfromtheirheadsthehairhungoverthebacksoftheirchairssothattheywerewhollyhidden.Infactthethreemenwere;nearlyallhair.
“Dead?”saidCaspian.
“Ithinknot,Sire,”saidReepicheep,liftingoneoftheirhandsoutofitstangleofhairinhistwopaws.“Thisoneiswarmandhispulsebeats.”
“Thisone,too,andthis,”saidDrinian.
“Why,they’reonlyasleep,”saidEustace.
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