“Friends， friends，” said Edmund， “what is the use of all this discourse？ We are not asking whether Narnia or Calormen would win if war arose between them. We are asking how to save the honour of the Queen and our own lives out of this devilish city. For though my brother， Peter the High King， defeated the Tisroc a dozen times over， yet long before that day our throats would be cut and the Queen‘s grace would be the wife， or more likely， the slave， of this prince.”
“We have our weapons， King，” said the first Dwarf. “Andthis is a reasonably defensible house.”
“As to that，” said the King， “I do not doubt that every one of us would sell our lives dearly in the gate and they would not come at the Queen but over our dead bodies. Yet we should be merely rats fighting in a trap when all’s said.”
“Very true，” croaked the Raven. “These last stands in a house make good stories， but nothing ever came of them. After their first few repulses the enemy always set the house on fire.”
