The Voyage of the Dawn Tread

GICIAN

g level with the floor, as you would expect things to do in invisible hands. But they didn't. They progressed up the long dining-hall in a series of bounds or jumps. At the highest point of each jump a dish

whispered Eustace to Edmund. "Do you think they're human at a

t the idea of the grasshoppers into Lucy's head. S

en a chap's hungry, he likes some victuals," or "Getting dark now; always does at night," or even "Ah, you've come over the water. Powerful wet stuff, ain't it?" And Lucy could not help looking at the dark yawning entrance to the foot of the staircase - she could see it from where she sat - and wonde

her open window and the lawn outside looking very like somewhere in England. She got up and dressed and tried to talk and eat ordinarily at breakfast. Then, after being instructed by

ght. As long as she was 9n that flight she could hear the tick-tock-tick-tock of a grandfather clock in the hall below. Th

ran the whole length of the house. It was carved and panelled and carpeted and very many doors opened off it on each side. She stood still an

d have to walk past room after room. And in any room there might be the magician - asleep, or awake, or invisible, or even d

rlet on the doors twisty, complicated things which obviously had a meaning and it mightn't be a very nice meaning either. It would have been nicer still if there weren't those masks hanging on the wall. Not that t

ittle mirror just the size and shape of her own face, with hair on the top of it and a beard hanging down from it, so that when you looked in the mirror your own face fitted into the hair and beard and it looked as if they belonged to you. "I just caught my own reflec

r the corridor had grown longer since she began her journey and whether this was

ve ever seen, all bound in leather and smelling old and learned and magical. But she knew from her instructions that she need not bother about any of these. For the Book, the Magic Book, was lying on a reading-desk in the

uldn'

nded if she could have shut the door, but that it was unpleasant to have to stand in a place like that with a

e came. He even seemed rather surprised at her asking. He expected her to begin at the beginning and go on till she came to it; obviously he had never thought that there was any

e full of electricity. She tried to open it but couldn't at first; this, however, was only because it was f

and so beautiful that Lucy stared at it for a whole minute and forgot about reading it. The paper was crisp and smooth and a nice sm

in moonlight in a silver basin) and toothache and cramp, and a spell for taking a swarm of bees. The picture of the man with toothache was so lifelike that it would have

ave remembered them, would have taught her how to find buried treasure, how to remember things forgotten, how to forget things you wanted to forget, how to tell whether anyone was speaking the truth, how to call up (o

rible expression on her face, chanting or reciting something. In the third picture the beauty beyond the lot of mortals had come to her. It was strange, considering how small the pictures had looked at first, that the Lucy in the picture now seemed quite as big as the real Lucy; and they looked into each other's eyes and the real Lucy looked away after a few minutes because she was dazzled by the beauty of the other Lucy; though she could still see a sort of likeness to herself in that beautiful face. And now the pictures came crowding on her thick and fast. She saw herself throned on high at a great tournament in Calormen and all the Kings of the wo

ll," said Lucy. "I

cause she had a strong f

he Lion, Aslan himself, staring into hers. It was painted such a bright gold that it seemed to be coming towards her out of the page; and indeed she never was quite sure afterwards that it hadn't

the one that made you beautiful beyond the lot of mortals. So she felt that to make up for not having said it, she really would say this one. And all in

with two schoolgirls sitting in it. She knew them at once. They were Marjorie Preston and Anne Featherstone. Only now it was much more than a picture. It was al

?" said Anne, "or are you still going

ou mean by taken u

Anne. "You were crazy

than that. Not a bad little kid in her way. But I wa

aced little beast." But the sound of her own voice at once reminded her that she

ther girls would. And she knows it too. And to Anne Featherstone of all people! I wonder are all my friends the same? There are lots of other pictures.

e pages and before she had read to the bottom of the page she had forgotten that she was reading at all. She was living in the story as if it were real, and all the pictures were real too. When she had got to the t

You couldn't turn back. The right-hand pages, the one

in. Well, at least I must remember it. Let's see . . . it wa

can I have forgotten? It was about a cup and a sword and a tree and a g

what Lucy means by a good story is a story which rem

tal letters at the top of the page and the pictures began appearing in the margins. It was like when you hold to the fire something written in Invisible Ink and the writing gradually shows up; only instead of the dingy colour of lemon juice (which is the easiest Invisible Ink) this was all gold and blue and s

membered what she had been told about the Magician walking in his bare feet and making no more noise than

e cry of delight and with her arms stretched out. For what stood in the doorway was Aslan himself, The Lion, the highest of all High Kings. And he was solid and real and warm

she, "it was kin

time," said he, "but you h

chfully. "Don't make fun of me. As if any

"Do you think I wouldn

le pause he

"I think you have

sdrop

your two schoolfellows

t that was eavesdropping

way. And you have misjudged your friend. She is weak, but she loves

er be able to forget

you w

ld have gone on being friends if it hadn't been for this - and been

ain to you once before that no one i

d," said Lucy. "I'm

on, dea

again; the one I couldn't remember? Will

or years and years. But now, come. We