“Straight on, beyond that, is the way to the World of Men.
And now look the other way”—here she pointed in the opposite direction—“and tell me if you can see two little hills rising above the trees.”
“I think I can,” said Edmund.
“Well, my house is between those two hills.
So next time you come you have only to find the lamp-post and look for those two hills and walk through the wood till you reach my house.
But remember—you must bring the others with you.
I might have to be very angry with you if you came alone.”
“I’ll do my best,” said Edmund.
“And, by the way,” said the Queen, “you needn’t tell them about me.
It would be fun to keep it a secret between us two, wouldn’t it?
Make it a surprise for them.
Just bring them along to the two hills—a clever boy like you will easily think of some excuse for doing that—and when you come to my house you could just say
‘Let’s see who lives here’ or something like that.
I am sure that would be best.
If your sister has met one of the Fauns, she may have heard strange stories about me—nasty stories that might make her afraid to come to me.
Fauns will say anything, you know, and now—”
“Please, please,” said Edmund suddenly, “please couldn’t I have just one piece of Turkish Delight to eat on the way home?”
“No, no,” said the Queen with a laugh, “you must wait till next time.”
While she spoke, she signaled to the dwarf to drive on, but as the sledge swept away out of sight, the Queen waved to Edmund, calling out,
“Next time!
Next time!
Don’t forget.
Come soon.”
Edmund was still staring after the sledge when he heard someone calling his own name, and looking round he saw Lucy coming toward him from another part of the wood.
“Oh, Edmund!” she cried.
“So you’ve got in too!
Isn’t it wonderful, and now—”
“All right,” said Edmund,
“I see you were right and it is a magic wardrobe after all.
I’ll say I’m sorry if you like.
But where on earth have you been all this time?
I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“If I’d known you had got in I’d have waited for you,” said Lucy, who was too happy and excited to notice how snappishly Edmund spoke or how flushed and strange his face was.
“I’ve been having lunch with dear Mr. Tumnus, the Faun, and he’s very well and the White Witch has done nothing to him for letting me go, so he thinks she can’t have found out and perhaps everything is going to be all right after all.”
“The White Witch?” said Edmund; “who’s she?”
“She is a perfectly terrible person,” said Lucy.
“She calls herself the Queen of Narnia though she has no right to be queen at all, and all the Fauns and Dryads and Naiads and Dwarfs and Animals—at least all the good ones—simply hate her.
And she can turn people into stone and do all kinds of horrible things.
And she has made a magic so that it is always winter in Narnia—always winter, but it never gets to Christmas.
And she drives about on a sledge, drawn by reindeer, with her wand in her hand and a crown on her head.”
Edmund was already feeling uncomfortable from having eaten too many sweets, and when he heard that the Lady he had made friends with was a dangerous witch he felt even more uncomfortable.
But he still wanted to taste that Turkish Delight again more than he wanted anything else.
“Who told you all that stuff about the White Witch?” he asked.
“Mr. Tumnus, the Faun,” said Lucy.
“You can’t always believe what Fauns say,” said Edmund, trying to sound as if he knew far more about them than Lucy.
“Who said so?” asked Lucy.
“Everyone knows it,” said Edmund; “ask anybody you like. But it’s pretty poor sport standing here in the snow.
Let’s go home.”
“Yes, let’s,” said Lucy.
“Oh, Edmund, I am glad you’ve got in too.