The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

And so, before they were half-way through Tashbaan, all their plans were ruined, and
without even a chance to say good-bye to the others Shasta found himself being marched
off among strangers and quite unable to guess what might be going to happen next. The
Narnian King - for Shasta began to see by the way the rest spoke to him that he must be a
king - kept on asking him questions; where he had been, how he had got out, what he had
done with his clothes, and didn't he know that he had been very naughty. Only the king
called it "naught" instead of naughty.
And Shasta said nothing in answer, because he couldn't think of anything to say that
would not be dangerous.
"What! All mum?" asked the king. "I must plainly tell you, prince, that this hangdog
silence becomes one of your blood even less than the scape itself. To run away might
pass for a boy's frolic with some spirit in it. But the king's son of Archenland should
avouch his deed; not hang his head like a Calormene slave."
This was very unpleasant, for Shasta felt all the time that this young king was the very
nicest kind of grown-up and would have liked to make a good impression on him.
The strangers led him-held tightly by both hands-along a narrow street and down a flight
of shallow stairs and then up another to a wide doorway in a white wall with two tall,
dark cypress trees, one on each side of it. Once through the arch, Shasta found himself in
a courtyard which was also a garden. A marble basin of clear water in the centre was kept
continually rippling by the fountain that fell into it. Orange trees grew round it out of
smooth grass, and the four white walls which surrounded the lawn were covered with
climbing roses. The noise and dust and crowding of the streets seemed suddenly fad
away. He was led rapidly across the garden and then into a dark doorway. The crier
remained outside. After that they took him along a corridor, where the stone floor felt
beautifully cool to his hot feet, and up some stairs. A moment later he found himself
blinking in the light of a big, airy room with wide open windows, all looking North so
that no sun came in. There was a carpet on the floor more wonderfully coloured than
anything he had ever seen and his feet sank down into it as if he were treading in thick
moss. All round the walls there were low sofas with rich cushions on them, and the room
seemed to be full of people; very queer people some of them, thought Shasta. But he had
no time to think of that before the most beautiful lady he had ever seen rose from her
place and threw her arms round him and kissed him, saying:
"Oh Corin, Corin, how could you? And thou and I such close friends ever since thy
mother died. And what should I have said to thy royal father if I came home without
thee? Would have been a cause almost of war between Archenland and Narnia which are
friends time out of mind. It was naught, playmate, very naught of thee to use us so."
"Apparently," thought Shasta to himself, "I'm being mistaken for a prince of Archenland,
wherever that is. And these must be the Narnians. I wonder where the real Corin is?" But
these thoughts did not help him say anything out loud.