He follows her across the room, smiling at the mobile of boats that dangles over Caspian's cot. "As it should be," he says, pleased at the idea even though he has no right to expect that his namesake will love the sea as he does.

He yawns against his uncle's shoulder, and thrusts a balled-up fist to rub at one tired eye, and Caspian sets him down carefully on the soft blanket in the crib. "There, my lad," he says, softly, as his nephew blinks at him and at the mobile as he gives it a gentle spin.