“Well， Nikabrik，” he said， “we will hear your plan.”
There was a pause so long that the boys began to wonder if Nikabrik was ever going to begin； when he did， it was in a lower voice， as if he himself did not much like what he was saying.
“All said and done，” he muttered， “none of us knows the truth about the ancient days in Narnia. Trumpkin believed none of the stories. I was ready to put them to the trial. We tried first the Horn and it has failed. If there ever was a High King Peter and a Queen Susan and a King Edmund and a Queen Lucy， then either they have not heard us， or they cannot come， or they are our enemies-”
“Or they are on the way，” put in Trufflehunter.
“You can go on saying that till Miraz has fed us all to his dogs. As I was saying， we have tried one link in the chain of old legends， and it has done us no good. Well. But when your sword breaks， you draw your dagger. The stories tell of other powers beside the ancient Kings and Queens. How if we could call them up？”
“If you mean Aslan，” said Trufflehunter， “it‘s all one calling on him and on the Kings. They were his servants. If he will not send them （but I make no doubt he will）， is he more likely to come himself ？”
“No. You’re right there，” said Nikabrik. “Aslan and the Kings go together. Either Aslan is dead， or he is not on our side. Or else something stronger than himself keeps him back. And if he did come-how do we know he‘d be our friend？ He was not always a good friend to Dwarfs by all that’s told. Not even to all beasts. Ask the Wolves. And anyway， he was in Narnia only once that I ever heard of， and he didn‘t stay long. You may drop Aslan out of the reckoning. Iwas thinking of someone else.”
There was no answer， and for a few minutes it was so still that Edmund could hear the wheezy and snuffling breath of the Badger.
“Who do you mean？” said Caspian at last.
“I mean a power so much greater than Aslan’s that it held Narnia spellbound for years and years， if the stories are true.”
“The White Witch！” cried three voices all at once， and from the noise Peter guessed that three people had leaped to their feet.
“Yes，” said Nikabrik very slowly and distinctly， “I mean the Witch. Sit down again. Don‘t all take fright at a name as if you were children. We want power： and we want a power that will be on our side. As for power， do not the stories say that the Witch defeated Aslan， and bound him， and killed him on that very stone which is over there， just beyond the light？”
“But they also say that he came to life again，” said the Badger sharply.
“Yes， they say，” answered Nikabrik， “but you’ll notice that we hear precious little about anything he did afterwards. He just fades out of the story. How do you explain that， if he really came to life？ Isn‘t itmuch more likely that he didn’t， and that the stories say nothing more about him because there was nothing more to say？”
“He established the Kings and Queens，” said Caspian.
“A King who has just won a great battle can usually establish himself without the help of a performing lion，” said Nikabrik. There was a fierce growl， probably from Trufflehunter.
“And anyway，” Nikabrik continued， “what came of the Kings and their reign？ They faded too. But it‘s very different with the Witch. They say she ruled for a hundred years： a hundred years of winter. There’s power， if you like. There‘s something practical.”
“But， heaven and earth！” said the King， “haven’t we always been told that she was the worst enemy of all？ Wasn‘t she a tyrant ten times worse than Miraz？”
“Perhaps，” said Nikabrik in a cold voice. “Perhaps she was for you humans， if there were any of you in those days. Perhaps she was for some of the beasts. She stamped out the Beavers， I dare say； at least there are none of them in Narnia now. But she got on all right with us Dwarfs. I’m a Dwarf and I stand by my own people. We‘re not afraid of the Witch.”
“But you’ve joined with us，” said Trufflehunter.
“Yes， and a lot of good it has done my people， so far，” snapped Nikabrik. “Who is sent on all the dangerous raids？ The Dwarfs. Who goes short when the rations fail？ The Dwarfs. Who-？”
“Lies！ All lies！” said the Badger.
“And so，” said Nikabrik， whose voice now rose to a scream， “if you can‘t help my people， I’ll go to someone who can.”
“Is this open treason， Dwarf ？” asked the King.
“Put that sword back in its sheath， Caspian，” said Nikabrik. “Murder at council， eh？ Is that your game？ Don‘t be fool enough to try it. Do you think I’m afraid of you？ There‘s three on my side， and three on yours.”
“Come on， then，” snarled Trufflehunter， but he was immediately interrupted.
“Stop， stop， stop，” said Doctor Cornelius. “You go on too fast. TheWitch is dead. All the stories agree on that. What does Nikabrik mean by calling on the Witch？”
That grey and terrible voice which had spoken only once before said， “Oh， is she？”
And then the shrill， whining voice began， “Oh， bless his heart， his dear little Majesty needn’t mind about the White Lady-that‘s what we call her-being dead. The Worshipful Master Doctor is only making game of a poor old woman like me when he says that. Sweet Mastery Doctor， learned Master Doctor， who ever heard of a witch that really died？ You can always get them back.”
“Call her up，” said the grey voice. “We are all ready. Draw the circle. Prepare the blue fire.”
Above the steadily increasing growl of the Badger and Cornelius’s sharp “What？” rose the voice of King Caspian like thunder.
“So that is your plan， Nikabrik！ Black sorcery and the calling up of an accursed ghost. And I see who your companions are-a Hag and a Werewolf！”
The next minute or so was very confused. There was an animal roaring， a clash of steel； the boys and Trumpkin rushed in； Peter had a glimpse of a horrible， grey， gaunt creature， half man and half wolf， in the very act of leaping upon a boy about his own age， and Edmund saw a badger and a Dwarf rolling on the floor in a sort of cat fight. Trumpkin found himself face to face with the Hag. Her nose and chin stuck out like a pair of nut-crackers， her dirty grey hair was flyingabout her face and she had just got Doctor Cornelius by the throat. At
one slash of Trumpkin‘s sword her head rolled on the floor. Then the light was knocked over and it was all swords， teeth， claws， fists， and boots for about sixty seconds. Then silence.
“Are you all right， Ed？”
“I-I think so，” panted Edmund. “I’ve got that brute Nikabrik， but he‘s still alive.”
“Weights and water-bottles！” came an angry voice. “It’s me you‘re sitting on. Get off. You’re like a young elephant.”
