“But the Rings had all been buried in the garden of a house in London （that‘s our big town， Sire） and the house had been sold. So then the problem was how to get at them. You’ll never guess what we did in the end！ Peter and Edmund-that‘s the High King Peter， the one who spoke to you-went up to London to get into the garden from the back， early in the morning before people were up. They were dressed like workmen so that if anyone did see them it would look as if they’d come to do something about the drains. I wish I‘d been with them， it must have been glorious fun. And they must have succeeded for next day， Peter sent us a wire-that’s a sort of message， Sire， I‘ll explain about it some other time-to say he’d got the Rings. And the day after that was the day Jill and I had to go back to school-we‘re the only two who are still at school and we’re at the same one. So Peter and Edmund were to meet us at a place on the way down to school and hand over the Rings. It had to be us two who were to go to Narnia， you see， because the older ones couldn‘t come again.
“So we got into the train-that’s a kind of thing people travel in in our world； a lot of wagons chained together-and the Professor and Aunt Polly and Lucy came with us. We wanted to keep together as long as we could. Well， there we were in the train. And we were just getting to the station where the others were to meet us， and I was looking out of the window to see if I could see them when suddenly there came amost frightful jerk and a noise： and there we were in Narnia and there was your Majesty tied up to the tree.”
“So you never used the Rings？” said Tirian.
“No，” said Eustace. “Never even saw them. Aslan did it all for us in his own way without any Rings.”
“But the High King Peter has them，” said Tirian.
“Yes，” said Jill. “But we don‘t think he can use them. When the two other Pevensies-King Edmund and Queen Lucy-were last here， Aslan said they would never come to Narnia again. And he said something of the same sort to the High King， only longer ago. You may be sure he’ll come like a shot if he‘s allowed.”
“Gosh！” said Eustace. “It’s getting hot in this sun. Are we nearly there， Sire？”
“Look，” said Tirian and pointed. Not many yards away grey battlements rose above the tree-tops， and after a minute‘s more walking they came out in an open grassy space. A stream ran across it and on the far side of the stream stood a squat， square tower with very few and narrow windows and one heavy-looking door in the wall that faced them.
Tirian looked sharply this way and that to make sure that noenemies were in sight. Then he walked up to the tower and stood still for a moment fishing up his bunch of keys which he wore inside his hunting-dress on a narrow silver chain that went round his neck. It was a nice bunch of keys that he brought out， for two were golden and many were richly ornamented： you could see at once that they were keys made for opening solemn and secret rooms in palaces， or chests and caskets of sweet-smelling wood that contained royal treasures. But the key which he now put into the lock of the door was big and plain and more rudely made. The lock was stiff and for a moment Tirian began to be afraid that he would not be able to turn it： but at last he did and the door swung open with a sullen creak.
“Welcome friends，” said Tirian. “I fear this is the best palace that the King of Narnia can now offer to his guests.”
Tirian was pleased to see that the two strangers had been well brought up. They both said not to mention it and that they were sure it would be very nice.
As a matter of fact it was not particularly nice. It was rather dark and smelled very damp. There was only one room in it and this room went right up to the stone roof： a wooden staircase in one corner led up to a trap door by which you could get out on the battlements. There were a few rude bunks to sleep in， and a great many lockers and bundles. There was also a hearth which looked as if nobody had lit a fire in it for a great many years.
“We’d better go out and gather some firewood first thing， hadn‘t we？” said Jill.
“Not yet， comrade，” said Tirian. He was determined that they should not be caught unarmed， and began searching the lockers， thankfully remembering that he had always been careful to have these garrison towers inspected once a year and to make sure that they were stocked with all things needful. The bow strings were there in their coverings of oiled silk， the swords and spears were greased against rust， and the armour was kept bright in its wrappings. But there was something even better. “Look you！” said Tirian as he drew out a long mail shirt of a curious pattern and flashed it before the children’s eyes.
“That‘s funny-looking mail， Sire，” said Eustace.
“Aye， lad，” said Tirian. “No Narnian dwarf smithied that. ’Tis mail of Calormen， outlandish gear. I have ever kept a few suits of it in readiness， for I never knew when I or my friends might have reason to walk unseen in The Tisroc‘s land. And look on this stone bottle. In this there is a juice which， when we have rubbed it on our hands and faces， will make us brown as Calormenes.”
“Oh hurrah！” said Jill. “Disguise！ I love disguises.”
Tirian showed them how to pour out a little of the juice into the palms of their hands and then rub it well over their faces and necks， right down to the shoulders， and then on their hands， right up to the elbows. He did the same himself.
“After this has hardened on us，” he said， “we may wash in water and it will not change. Nothing but oil and ashes will make us white Narnians again. And now， sweet Jill， let us go see how this mail shirt becomes you. ’Tis something too long， yet not so much as I feared. Doubtless it belonged to a page in the train of one of their Tarkaans.”
After the mail shirts they put on Calormene helmets， which are little round ones fitting tight to the head and having a spike on top. Then Tirian took long rolls of some white stuff out of the locker and wound them over the helmets till they became turbans： but the little steel spike still stuck up in the middle. He and Eustace took curved Calormene swords and little round shields. There was no sword light enough for Jill， but he gave her a long， straight hunting knife which might do for a sword at a pinch.