The Silver Chair (The Chronicles of Narnia #4)
C. S. Lewis
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
A mass-market paperback edition of The Silver Chair, book six in the classic fantasy series, The Chronicles of Narnia, featuring cover art by Cliff Nielsen and black-and-white interior artwork by the original illustrator of the series, Pauline Baynes.
Through dangers untold and caverns deep and dark, a noble band of friends is sent to rescue a prince held captive. But their mission to Underland brings them face-to-face with an evil more beautiful and more deadly than they ever expected.
The Silver Chair is the sixth book in C. S. Lewis's classic fantasy series. For over sixty years, it has been drawing readers of all ages into a magical land where giants wreak havoc and enchantment rules. This is a complete stand-alone read, but if you want to discover what happens in the final days of Narnia, read The Last Battle, the seventh and concluding book in The Chronicles of Narnia.
“Are you coming with us?” “Oh yes, I’m coming of course. Might as well, you see. I don’t suppose we shall ever see the King back in Narnia, now that he’s once set off for foreign parts; and he had a nasty cough when he left. Then there’s Trumpkin. He’s failing fast. And you’ll find there’ll have been a bad harvest after this terrible dry summer. And I shouldn’t wonder if some enemy attacked us. Mark my words.” “And how shall we start?” said Scrubb. “Well,” said the Marsh-wiggle very slowly,
pudding, and roast chestnuts, and as much fruit as you could eat. The only annoying thing was that the Nurse kept coming in and out, and every time she came in, she brought a gigantic toy with her—a huge doll, bigger than Jill herself, a wooden horse on wheels, about the size of an elephant, a drum that looked like a young gasometer, and a woolly lamb. They were crude, badly made things, painted in very bright colors, and Jill hated the sight of them. She kept on telling the Nurse she didn’t
stroke of the E, due north—turned to our right along the upright— came to another turn to the right—that’s the middle stroke—and then went on to the top left-hand corner, or (if you like) the northeastern corner of the letter, and came back. Like the bally idiots that we are.” He kicked the window seat savagely, and went on, “So it’s no good, Pole. I know what you were thinking because I was thinking the same. You were thinking how nice it would have been if Aslan hadn’t put the instructions on
beautiful. His breast rose and fell gently under the snowy beard which covered him to the waist. A pure, silver light (no one saw where it came from) rested upon him. “Who’s that?” asked Puddleglum. And it was so long since anyone had spoken, that Jill wondered how he had the nerve. “That is old Father Time, who was once a King in Overland,” said the Warden. “And now he has sunk down into the Deep Realm and lies dreaming of all the things that are done in the upper world. Many sink down, and
very angry because she could feel enchantment getting hold of her every moment. But of course the very fact that she could still feel it, showed that it had not yet fully worked. “And thou art Queen of Narnia too, I doubt not, pretty one,” said the Witch in the same coaxing, half-mocking tone. “I’m nothing of the sort,” said Jill, stamping her foot. “We come from another world.” “Why, this is a prettier game than the other,” said the Witch. “Tell us, little maid, where is this other world?