It was six years after the White Witch's death before Edmund found a reliable source for something that all four of them would accept as proper tea. In Narnia they brewed from pine needles and flowers; in Terebinthia from a coastal shrub that tasted of the sea; in far western Telmar, he had heard, people brewed tea using butter from the great herds of cattle.

But in the southern Calormen province of Keldar grew a low bush with delicate leaves that came closer than anything else to the taste of a proper cup; and it was worth every scrap of ingenuity and negotiating skill the Lion had granted him, and the scavenging for cash to pay the smugglers, to lift the pot at the breakfast table with his brother and sisters, and pour.