Inside Edmund's Cloak || Tumnus and Cara
The first Tumnus forced himself from the trance that gripped his body when the candles went out was when King Edmund began walking towards the poor girl standing before them all.
Aslan. If anything more had to be heaped on The Four besides the announcement of a movement to end their reign and their lives, why did it have to be this? Eithne was dead. He had watched as Edmund and Lucy grieved and suffered for her, as the castle felt the loss of a healer. Except she was standing in the great hall of Cair Paravel, the victim or, Aslan forbid, even the perpetrator of a brutal crime.
Edmund looked up from Eithne, searching the crowd for something. Tumnus raised his eyes to see if he could be of assistance and when their gaze met, Edmund began walking towards him. The faun came forward and accepted the bundle from his King, a wave of nausea curling through his stomach as the strange softness of the bloodied limb touched his chest.
Edmund was quick to pull his arms away. "Take care of this, please," came his command.
"Yes Sire," Tumnus replied simply, the promise in his voice overriding the grim.
Edmund turned away quickly and so did Tumnus, his mind running through the options. Despite the cloak's covering, creatures around him were stepping back in fright, some making guttural sounds of disgust. The leg had to be removed from the hall, obviously. But how exactly to do so?
The Kings and Queens would want a search, as would the guards and constables, because everyone in the room would have to be considered a suspect. Guards from all countries already had their weapons out, some of the Narnians had arrows nocked to their bows. Even guests were gripping the knives on their tables. And despite all the adrenaline and the calm from their leaders, the relative paralysis from the shock would end as the royal response began. Tired, suspicious minds would have to get each other through the rest of the night.
The hall was a tinderbox and tempers could very well enflame it, Tumnus realised, and perhaps with it would come accusations of guilt and conspiracy.
Edmund was encouraging Eithne towards the medical wing, nearly out the door.
That was the final piece. If he could leave immediately, it would all fall under the authority and protection of the King. The foreigners would not truly question that. But he still wanted someone that was trusted by the Pevensies and who hopefully had the chance of some kind of trust from the foreigners. A constable, and a healer, of course.
"Constable Stone?" Tumnus asked, his voice quiet, deliberately calm and nonthreatening, but still carrying to the man near him. "I mean to follow the King to the medical wing. Can I have your escort?" The man nodded, moving steadily forward, his face sombre.
Before Stone could reach Tumnus, there was a smash from the back of the room, perhaps a wine glass breaking, thought Tumnus, but he could not see and his orders were to deal with the leg, nothing else. "I need a healer, too," he called, loud enough to be heard over the sound of shouts and an unplaceable sort of scream coming from the same direction.
There was only one other among them who would truly do in this situation, who was trustworthy and dependable to the core, and whose mission could take her from the room at a time like this. Thankfully, despite the poisons bubbling up among them all, Tumnus's eyes found the great centaur easily enough thanks to her height.
"Healer Cara?"
