Chapter 39: Gofannon of Rainfield

For the longest moment, there was no sound save that of the rain. Belana and Biss stared defiantly at one another, the former composed, the latter struggling for control. Biss was not used to being refused, and it showed. He would have been a fool to expect meek compliance with his orders, especially out of so strong a personality as Belana, but it was evident he anticipated his ultimatum to have greater effect than what he was getting.

"You dare turn your back on this clan, your family!" snapped Biss. "You will be disowned!"

"Dare? You dare threaten me with this same, old argument? I am a free Narnian," she replied. "I cannot be owned, even by my family. I belong to no one but myself."

"You will be clanless! Outcast!"

"Such a loss," breathed Boont, and if there be a goddess of sarcasm in the world, then surely she looks like the master carpenter.

"Not so awful a fate as to have a clan and be unloved," said Belana. "Why should I starve when bounty awaits me here? Live in a cold house when I've known warmth? Sacrifice my happiness for yours? Why? Why should I? Tell me, brother. I've the day ahead of me to listen. Speak. I need to hear why my wants count for naught next to yours."

"Our parents did not sacrifice all to the Winter and the Witch to let Clan Svarog be torn asunder!"

"We are not our parents. I cannot speak for their actions or loyalties, only my own. The Winter is over. The White Witch is dead, praise Aslan and the Four. The time of sacrifice is over. Now answer my questions."

"Why should I? Your choice is made. You've cast us away for greener grounds -"

"Bluer," corrected Boont with a wry little smile, and the ripple of amusement that moved through my Dwarfs eroded Biss' standing as surely as did the rain.

Belana plunged onward with all the determination of a general in the field. "Do not blame me, Biss! You're the one who vowed to disown anyone who chose not to leave this smithy, not me. It's not a question of Moonspring's need, but of spite! You're the one who won't let anyone leave the shadow of the mountain! Does the world beyond frighten you so completely?" She paused, and as she gazed at him she saw the answer. "It does. You dare not venture forth for fear that beyond the mountain, beyond the clan, you are nothing, while I . . ." Belana turned and gazed at me with something akin to awe in her expression as she realized all I had said to her mere minutes before. "I could be mother to a king," she breathed, placing her small hand on my arm. Her blue eyes were bright with wonder as she reasoned out the conflict. She looked to Brickit, and the Chief Smith gave her a little smile and nod of reassurance. "That's it! You fear that others will succeed and leave you behind, Biss, and hate those who already have."

"You would set this boy's affection above that of your clan?" roared Biss, jabbing a finger in my direction.

"No," she snapped. "You've done that for me!"

His eyes flew wide with fury, and he sliced the air with his hand. "Your choice is made, Belana! You are of Svarog no longer. You have no family, no place, no home, no protection. You have no name."

A collective gasp passed through the onlookers. For Dwarfs, there was no one lower in status than one who was cast out and nameless. Biss stood in wrathful triumph, waiting. He expected tears. Screams. Pleas to be forgiven. He expected Belana to collapse in despair and beg him to restore her name. He expected everything except what he got: scorn.

"You've only taken what I was willing to give away. Have my name, Biss. It will live on in your heart for many lonely years to come."

"You think Brickit would marry you now, clanless and nameless, a beggar at his door?"

Not surprisingly, Brickit seemed amendable to such an arrangement. Before he could say as much, Belana replied,

"No. Nor would I expect him to, for I am not clanless, nor nameless, nor a beggar. I have all I need at hand."

"For what?" Biss demanded, frowning.

She smiled, clutching Cheroom's letter close and tight. "To start my own clan, brother."

Her words hit like a shockwave. Brint let out a high-pitched keen of excitement, cut short when his brother elbowed him. Biss, who had never even considered such action, was scandalized.

"You cannot!"

"She can," I corrected, not quite keeping the pride from my voice. "She has but to state her intent and ask to be blessed by her monarch, and name her clan."

Biss drew near to sneer up at me. "Who are you to tell us what may be amongst Dwarfs?"

"I am a Son of the Clan."

"Phah!" he spat. "You are no Dwarf! You are nothing!"

I smiled benevolently, and unleashed a full broadside on the unsuspecting Chief Miner.

"Cousin, I am Edmund Randall Pevensie, King of Narnia and all her holdings, sometimes called the Just, Duke of the Lantern Waste, Viscount Hengefast, Earl of Meyerton-on-Galma, Crown Prince of the Lonely Islands, Master of the Lionsgate on Terebinthia, and Guardian of the West. I am Sir Edmund of the How, King's Knight and Chief of the Most Noble Order of the Table, bearer of the blades Shafelm III and Tablesword. I am the Keeper of King Frank's Seal, Royal Embassy to the Court of Anvard and to Parliament, and a Captain of Cair Paravel's Guard. I am the rightful son of Brickit, Chief of Clan Welent and Chief Smith of the Blue River Smithy, and a Son of Clan Welent. Shall I go on?"

With each word, Biss' expression darkened. He opened his mouth for what promised to be a thunderous reply when Belana stepped between us, her back to Biss. She lifted her rain-soaked skirts and curtsied there in the mud, calling out in a loud, clear voice,

"King Edmund, I stand before you Belana, a free Narnian."

"Well met, Lady Belana," I replied, playing along. "How may I serve you?"

"I would establish a clan of my own, and crave your blessing."

"That which is new must not be despised, but welcomed," I said, mostly for Biss' benefit. "All of life is change, and life is the blessing of Aslan. By what name will this new clan be known, that it may be inscribed in the Roll of Clans at Cair Paravel?"

She paused, biting her lip as she thought hard and fast. Then she lifted her head and tossed her braided hair back as she proudly announced, "Gofannon!"

The Dwarfs around me muttered in approval. It was a good name.

"Narnians, attend!" I ordered. "In the name of Aslan, I, King Edmund the Just, appoint this woman Belana as Chief of Clan Gofannon of . . . Rainfield," I finished with a smile and to general amusement. "Go forth with my blessing always, my lady, in service of the Lion and of revinim. May your clan prosper and grow."

Biss was on the verge of bursting forth like a geyser. "She cannot be a clan of one!" he bellowed.

I was about to contest that claim when, ever quick of tongue and wit, Boont said, "No worries, cousin. She's not."

"What?" barked Biss.

Boont smiled. "I am of Gofannon, too."

Belana cast her cousin a look of gratitude and concern and love. Boont smiled wryly and shrugged, muttering, "There are too many rocks in Moonspring anyway."

Brickit strode forward and stood before Belana, reaching out to take her hand in his. He was almost bursting with pride and pleasure as he said, "Belana of Gofannon, as clan chief to clan chief, will you marry me?"

She squared her shoulders and looked up at him boldly, her blue eyes flashing as she flatly said, "No." She dropped his hand, then immediately took it up again as she asked, "Brickit of Welent, will you marry me?"

"Yes," Brickit said without a hint of hesitation. "Name the date and I am yours, my lady."

"Tomorrow," she decided. He nodded in agreement before breaking into a smile of sheer delight.

Poor Cousin Biss. The situation was quite out of control and not at all what he had envisioned. He had lost not one but two of his people, and the only ones miserable were him and Brytt. His anger and disappointment were so great as to almost be visible to the naked eye.

"I do not recognize such a clan!" he declared, taking a step forward. His fists were clenched and he wore a dangerous look.

"Nor I," added Barrett, and there was general mutterings and agreement amongst the Svarog representatives.

Boont smirked. "Such a clan doesn't care. Chief or no, you are not on your lands, but ours. You stand upon Rainfield, ancestral holding of Clan Gofannon. Be you prudent in word and deed, Biss, for Gofannon is not without friends."

"Pax, Master," I said softly, still leaning heavily on her for support. "A chief he remains for all his bluster."

She grumbled, but refrained from goading him further. For now.

Barrett whispered to his brother, and I saw Biss' dark eyes narrow as he looked about. "And where is Bort?" he suddenly bellowed. "He is son to Svarog and will be returning to Moonspring."

"He took off yesterday," answered Brint. "We have not seen him since."

Biss glanced at Barrett for confirmation and got a nod in reply. "If he is not in Moonspring already, we will return for him."

"He is not in Moonspring," said a voice from the edge of the clearing, and everyone turned in surprise to see Bort had returned. But he had not come alone. Standing tall and willowy beside him was Fainna, who despite being soaked to the skin and spattered with mud was smiling radiantly as she held the journeyman's hand in hers.

As expected, Biss saw neither their happiness nor their determination. All he saw was another of his own daring to step outside what was to him normal and acceptable behavior. It had already been a day of great stress and change for the Chief Miner. Clearly it was not going to improve anytime soon. I heard a soft and wicked chuckle of pleasure beside me. Boont was truly enjoying this momentous day.

Bort strode through the muck with determined, splashing strides and Fainna glided along by his side, her small feet barely making an impression until they stood hand-in-hand before the clan chief. I could see now that her cloak was clasped by an exquisitely wrought pin in the shape of a swan, and I recognized Bort's work. A betrothal token, perhaps?

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Biss, and I had to remind myself that he knew nothing of the romance I had helped foster. Still, only an idiot could have missed the meaning behind them standing so closely and the hopeful and excited expression on Fainna's pretty face.

"The meaning should be plain, Chief Biss," was Bort's quick reply. "We ask your blessing for our union, for I have asked Lady Fainna of Lithin to be my bride, and she has honored me by accepting my proposal."

An excited murmur moved through the crowd, which had grown substantially. It was truly a banner day for the gossips.

By his round-eyed, red-faced expression, I half expected Barrett to suffer a fit of apoplexy on the spot. By Biss' expression, it was easy to guess he was of an opinion with his brother: Nymphs were useless flirts and interested only in finding hapless husbands to take care of them. Never mind that Fainna and her peers at Lithin were accomplished teachers and homemakers, whose fame and skills were gaining increasing renown. She was secure in her position, and hardly needed a husband to support her. Fainna was, simply put, able to marry for love if she chose. And she clearly chose. But to the Chief Miner and his brother, she was just a Nymph, and therefore interested only in play and pretty dresses and being kept.

"You would marry outside your clan?" asked Biss through teeth clenched so tightly my own jaw ached in sympathy.

"And my race," agreed Bort in a cool voice, cutting straight to the true heart of the matter. "You do not approve?"

"Never," growled Biss, and surely he must have known what was coming next.

Bort's expression hardened and he gave a little shrug that was the Black Dwarf equivalent of a dismissal, but he did not release Fainna's hand. Instead he guided his lady a few feet away to stand before Belana. "Chief Belana," he said, "we ask that you bless our union that we and our children will be members of Clan Gofannon of Rainfield."

"Be you welcome to my clan and to my heart," said Belana, quietly ecstatic. "Have my blessing for your union and may the Lion grant you children and happiness and plenty."

It was too much. Brint let out a shout of joy and everyone started talking and laughing and clapping. We crowded around the two happy couples, making a huge din and ignoring Biss in his humiliation. Someone called for a toast, and more called for coffee, and as one we all headed to the longhouse to celebrate. Belana and Brickit relieved Boont of having to support me, each taking a turn to hug me before they took my hands on their shoulders. We weren't halfway across the newly-named Rainfield when I looked back, but of Clan Svarog there was no sign.