The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

he may have been right, for some say there is giantish blood in the royal family of Charn.
But even her height was nothing compared with her beauty, her fierceness, and her
wildness. She looked ten times more alive than most of the people one meets in London.
Uncle Andrew was bowing and rubbing his hands and looking, to tell the truth, extremely
frightened. He seemed a little shrimp of a creature beside the Witch. And yet, as Polly
said after
wards, there was a sort of likeness between her face and his, something in the expression.
It was the look that all wicked Magicians have, the "Mark" which Jadis had said she
could not find in Digory's face. One good thing about seeing the two together was that
you would never again be afraid of Uncle Andrew, any more than you'd be afraid of a
worm after you had met a rattlesnake or afraid of a cow after you had met a mad bull.
"Pooh!" thought Digory to himself. "Him a Magician!
Not much. Now she's the real thing."
Uncle Andrew kept on rubbing his hands and bowing. He was trying to say something
very polite, but his mouth had gone all dry so that he could not speak. His "experiment"
with the rings, as he called it, was turning out more successful than he liked: for though
he had dabbled in Magic for years he had always left all the dangers (as far as one can) to
other people. Nothing at all like this had ever happened to him before.
Then Jadis spoke; not very loud, but there was something in her voice that made the
whole room quiver.
"Where is the Magician who has called me into this world?"
"Ah - ah - Madam," gasped Uncle Andrew, "I am most honoured - highly gratified - a
most unexpected, pleasure - if only I had had the opportunity of making any preparations
- I - I -"
"Where is the Magician, Fool?" said Jadis.
"I - I am, 'Madam. I hope you will excuse any - er -. liberty these naughty children may
have taken. I assure you, there was no intention -"
"You?" said the Queen in a still more terrible voice. Then, in one stride, she crossed the
room, seized a great handful of Uncle Andrew's grey hair and pulled his head back so that
his face looked up into hers. Then she studied his face as she had studied Digory's face in
the palace of Charn. He blinked and licked his lips nervously all the time. At last she let
him go: so suddenly that he reeled back against the wall.
"I see," she said scornfully, "you are a Magician - of a sort. Stand up, dog, and don't
sprawl there as if you were speaking to your equals. How do you come to know Magic?
You are not of royal blood, I'll swear."