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哈尔的移动城堡|Howl’s Moving Castle

第11章前往奇异国度

属类： 双语小说 【分类】魔幻小说 -[作者: 黛安娜-W-琼斯] 阅读：[6096]
Chapter 11 In which Howl goes to a strange country in search
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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那片虚无不过是一寸左右的厚度。在它之后，是一个灰灰的、下着小雨的傍晚，有一条水泥路通往一座花园的大门。豪尔和麦可在门口等着。过了门，是一条看来平坦坚实的路，路两旁建有房子。苏菲在小雨中发抖，她回头看自己的来处，发现城堡变成一栋有大窗子的黄色砖房。跟其他房子一样呈方形，很新，前门是波浪纹状的厚玻璃。

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没人在路上走动，或许是因为下雨的缘故，但苏菲觉得，真正的原因在于，虽然这儿有许多房子，但这儿其实是在城市的边缘了。

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“你好奇够了没？”豪尔叫她。他那件鲜艳的灰红色服装因为雨滴，看起来雾茫茫的。他手里拿着一串样式奇特的钥匙，大多是扁扁的，黄颜色，好象与这些房子契合。

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当苏菲走过去时，他说：“我们的衣服得入乡随俗一下。”说完，他的衣服突然一片模糊，好象身旁的小雨突然都变成雾。当影象重又清晰起来时，它虽然仍旧是灰红色，却已变了一个样式。垂下来的长袖不见了，整套衣服看来不仅松垮垮的，还旧旧破破的。

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麦可的夹克则变成一件及腰厚衬衫。他举起脚，脚上穿的是双帆布鞋。他盯着紧包在他腿上的蓝色东西，呻吟道：“我的膝盖几乎没办法弯曲。”

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“你就会习惯的。”豪尔说：“走啦，苏菲。”

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令苏菲惊讶的是，豪尔领他们走回头路，往那栋黄色的房子走去。苏菲可以看到他宽松的夹克后头写着奇怪的字：威尔斯橄榄球，麦可跟着豪尔走，因腿上穿的东西而脚步僵直。

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苏菲低头看自己，看到群摆和鞋子之间的瘦腿露出原来的两倍之多，除此之外，她的穿着到是无啥变化。

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豪尔以一把钥匙打开有波浪纹状厚玻璃的前门。门边挂有一块木牌，上面写着‘礼本戴尔’。苏菲边念边被豪尔推着，走进一个洁净发光的前厅。房子里似乎有人，最靠近前厅的那扇门后传来嘈杂的声音。豪尔打开门后，苏菲发现声音来自一个大大的方形盒子，盒子前面有神奇的彩色图案在动着。

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“豪尔！”一个坐在那儿织东西的女人大叫。

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她神情露着些许不悦，放下手里的东西，但是在她站起来之前，一个手撑着下巴，看那神奇影象看得聚精会神的女孩跳起来，扑到豪尔身上，大叫道：“豪尔舅舅！”并且跳起来，以脚环住他。

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“玛莉！”豪尔也大叫：“小美人！好不好啊！有没有乖乖？”他和小女孩开始转用外国语交谈，说得又快又响。苏菲看得出他们感情非常好。她想，这不知是什么语言？听起来和卡西法那支好笑的炖锅歌所用的语言很像，但是她不太确定。

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在那一长串外语之间，豪尔得间或拨出时间告诉他们说：“这是我外甥女玛莉，我姐姐梅根.派立。梅根，这是麦可.费雪和苏菲……呃……”

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“海特。”苏菲说。

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梅根态度保留地和他们两人握手，显然对他们不怎么欣赏。她比豪尔年长，但和他长得很像，都有棱角分明的长脸，但她的眼睛是蓝色的，充满焦虑，发色也较深。“安静，玛莉！”她喊了一声，打断外国语的谈话：“豪尔，你会停留很久吗？”

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“只一下下就走。”豪尔边回答边将玛莉放下来。

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“格里斯还没回来。”梅根意有所指地说。

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“那太可惜了！我们无法留下来。”豪尔露出一个温暖而虚伪的微笑。“我不过是介绍几个朋友跟你认识一下。还有件事你听起来或许会觉得有些奇怪，尼尔最近有没有搞丢一页英文作业什么的？”

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“你怎么知道？”梅根大叫：“上星期四他可是到处找哦！他们学校来了一个新的英文老师，严格的不得了，不是只管他们拼字拼对就算了，全班都怕她怕得要死，不敢迟交作业。不过这对尼尔那小懒惰鬼当然是有益无害，所以他上星期四是上上下下家里全找遍了，但他只找到一张写了东西的旧纸张……”

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“啊，”豪尔问：“那张纸他后来怎么处理？”

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“我告诉他就拿去交给安歌丽雅小姐好了。”梅根说：“让她知道至少他这次是努力尝试过了。”

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“他有交上去吗？”

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“我不知道，你最好自己去问他。他在楼上前面那一间寝室，跟机器黏在一起。”梅根说：“不过我看你是不可能从他那里问出任何东西的。”

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“走吧。”豪尔叫唤麦可跟苏菲，两人正审视这个有明亮棕色和橘色的房间。他牵着玛莉的手，带他们走出房间上楼去。楼梯都铺有地毯，分红色和绿色，所以豪尔带领的这个小队伍，静悄无声地走上这个分红与绿色的地毯，进入一个铺有蓝色和黄色地毯的房间。不过苏菲觉得，蹲在窗前那个上面摆有不同魔术盒的大桌前那两个男孩，恐怕就是铜管乐队来了都不会抬一下眼。

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主要的魔术盒跟楼下那个一样，前面是玻璃做的，但是楼下那个显示的大多是影象，这个显示的却大多是字和图表。全部的盒子都长着长长的、松垮的白色根茎，伸入房间一边的墙里。

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“尼尔！”豪尔叫道。

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“别吵！”其中一个男孩喊道：“不然他会死掉。”

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一听事关生死存亡，苏菲和麦可马上退到房口，但是豪尔丝毫不为所动，大踏步走想墙壁，把那些盒子的根连根拔起，盒子上的影象就消失了。两个男孩随后说出的话，苏菲相信就是玛莎也不会知道。第二个男孩跳起来，转过身大叫：“玛莉！看我饶不饶你！”

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“哼！这次才不是我哩！”玛莉叫回去。

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尼尔身体全转过来了，对豪尔怒目而视。他肤色黝黑，浓眉，瞪起人来目光炯炯。“你干嘛！把插头插回去！”

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“我可真受欢迎呀！”豪尔说：“我要问你话，等你回答完后我就插回去。”

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尼尔叹气道：“豪尔舅舅，我正在玩电玩。”

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“新的游戏？”豪尔问。

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两个男孩看来都一副不爽的样子。“不是，是圣诞节的礼物。”尼尔说：“你也知道的，他们总是叨念说什么不能在无用的东西上浪费时间跟金钱，要一直到生日时他们才肯再买一个给我。”

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“那简单，”豪尔说：“如果你不介意玩到一半就停掉的话，我倒可以拿一个新的来跟你贿赂一下……”

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“真的？”两个男孩异口同声、热切地问道。尼尔加上一句：“可不可以给我一个别人都没有的？”

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“可以。但是你得先看看这个，然后告诉我这是什么。”豪尔把那张发亮的灰纸掏出来，拿到尼尔面前。

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两个男孩同时看着那张纸，尼尔说：“这是诗。”语气就跟一办人说‘这是死老鼠’差不多。

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“那是安歌丽雅小姐上星期出的作业。”另一个男孩说：“我记得‘风’和‘有翼的’，那是有关潜水艇的。”

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苏菲和麦可两个人眼睛眨呀眨的，心里想着自己怎会没往这方向去想。“嘿！那是我搞丢的作业，你在哪儿找到的？”尼尔叫道：“而我找到那张怪怪的纸是你的吗？安歌丽雅小姐说，那个写得挺有趣的。算我走运！她把它带回家了。”

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“谢谢。”豪尔说。“她住在哪里？”

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“菲力普太太茶店的楼上，在卡迪福街。”尼尔说：“你什么时候才会给我新的卡带？”

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“当你想起那首诗的下半段时。”豪尔说。

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“那不公平！”尼尔抗议道：“我连当场抄下来的都记不住。你不过是在戏弄我的感情……”说到这儿他就停下来了，因为豪尔大笑着，伸手到一个大大的口袋里一阵摸索，递给他一个扁扁的小包。“谢谢！”尼尔真心诚意地说。说完，一刻也不耽搁，马上转身面对他的魔术盒子。豪尔将那些根又种回墙上，微笑地对苏菲和麦可做个手势，退出房间。两个男孩开始一系列奇怪的行为，码莉想办法挤进去，吮着拇指看得津津有味。

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豪尔很快地走向粉红和绿色的楼梯，但是麦可和苏菲两人则停留在门附近，想知道那到底是什么东西。房里，尼尔正大声年着：“你置身于一个有四扇门的魔法城堡，每扇门通向一个不同的时空。在第一个时空里，城堡一直移动，随时都会遇到危机……”

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苏菲蹒跚地往楼梯走去，边想着这些话怎么听起来很熟悉。她看到麦可站在楼梯中间，一脸尴尬。豪尔在楼梯下跟他姐姐吵架。

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“你什么意思？你把我的书全卖掉了？”她听到豪尔说：“我特别需要其中一本书。你无权把我的书卖掉！”

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“别一直插嘴！”梅根声音低低的，很凶恶地说：“你给我听着，我以前就告诉过你，我这儿不是你的仓库。你实在是丢尽我和格里斯的脸。衣服穿得吊儿郎当，也不会去买件正式点的衣服来穿，让自己至少看起来体面些。老跟下阶层的人或者无业游民混在一起，还带他们上这儿来！你是存心想把我往下拉到你那个阶层是不是？亏你受了这么多教育，却不想好好找个正当工作，只是四处瞎混。念大学那些时间都白费了！别人为你做的牺牲都白费了！浪费钱不说……”

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这个梅根一点都不会输给菲菲克丝太太。她不停地说了又说，苏菲开始了解为什么豪尔遇到事情会习惯性地开溜了。梅根是那种会让人想从最近的一扇门开溜的那种。不幸的是，豪尔被堵在楼梯口，而苏菲和麦可又在他后面。

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“……从没认真地做过一天事，从没做过一个让我可以引以为荣的工作。老是让我和格里斯觉得丢脸，来这里把玛莉宠上天……”毫不卷怠地江河直泄。

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苏菲将麦可推开，砰砰地走下楼，摆出她最威严的表情。“走吧，豪尔，”她庄严地说：“真的该走了。光在这里站着，钱就不知少赚了多少。你那些仆人搞不好还偷你的金盘子去卖呢！很高兴认识你，”她走到楼梯低时跟梅根说：“不过我们真的得赶路了，豪尔是个大忙人。”

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梅根吃了一惊，瞪着苏菲。苏菲对她庄严地点了一下头，将豪尔往那个有波浪纹厚玻璃的前门推。麦可满脸通红，因为豪尔转身问梅根：“我的旧车还在车库里吗？还是也被你卖掉了？”

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“唯一一套钥匙在你那里吧！”梅根严厉地回道。

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那似乎就是再见了。前门重重地关上，豪尔带他们到位于一条平坦黑路尾端的方形白色建筑物去。豪尔没说任何与梅根有关的事。他打开那栋建筑物宽大的门时，说：“我想那英文老师应该会有那本书。”

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接下来的经历，苏菲但愿她能忘记。他们坐在一辆没有马驾驶的车里，以令人害怕的速度前进，车子发出臭气，吼叫着、震动着，在苏菲所见过最陡峭的路上狂奔。那些路是那样陡，以至于苏菲怀疑它们两旁的房子为何不会滑下来在底下挤成一堆。她闭上眼睛抓住椅子上破损的布，心里直祈祷能赶快到达目的地。

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幸运地，总算到了。他们抵达一条两旁挤满房子的平坦街道，到达一个挂着白色窗帘的大窗子旁边，窗上挂着一个写着‘茶店大样’的牌子。牌子上虽然那么写着，但是豪尔按了窗旁小门上一个按扭时，安歌丽雅小姐却前来应门了。

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三人全盯着她瞧。身为严厉的教师，安歌丽雅小姐可说是惊人的年轻、苗条，而且美丽。蓝黑色的秀发由两边垂下来，包衬着她浅棕色、心形的脸以及一双大眼。唯一让人会将她与严厉联想在一起的，是那一双大眼睛，看人时眼光直接且聪敏，似乎能看穿人的底细。

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“让我猜猜看，你一定是豪尔.建肯先生吧？”安歌丽雅小姐跟豪尔说。她声音低低的，很优美，但也带着相当的自信和愉悦。

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豪尔吓了一跳，随即换上一个微笑。苏菲一看就知道，乐蒂和菲菲克丝太太的美梦都再见了。因为安歌丽雅小姐是豪尔绝对会一见钟情的那种女人。不只是豪尔，连麦可也看得目不转睛。尽管两旁的房子看来似乎都无人居住，但苏菲却很确定里面都住满了人，而且这些人都认得豪尔和安歌丽雅小姐。他们现在正以充满兴趣的眼光，观看这两个人之间会不会发生什么事。她可以感觉到那些隐形的目光，马克奇平也是这个样子。

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“你一定是安歌丽雅小姐了。”豪尔说：“抱歉来打扰你。上星期我不小心把我外甥的作业当成我一张重要的文件带走了。我想，尼尔把它当成他没有偷懒的证据交给你了是吧？”

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“是的，”安歌丽雅小姐说：“要不要进来拿？”

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苏菲确定当豪尔、麦可和她鱼贯进入安歌丽雅小姐的房门，上楼到她那间简朴的小起居室时，所有房子里那些隐形的眼睛都转动着，脖子也跟着转弯。

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安歌丽雅小姐体贴地问苏菲：“要不要坐下来？”

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苏菲还没从那个‘无马车’的狂奔中恢复过来，闻言很高兴地在两把椅子中的一把坐下。椅子不是很舒服，安歌丽雅小姐的房间不是为图舒服，而是为了读书而设计的。虽然房里许多东西看来很奇怪，但是整墙的书、桌上成堆的纸，以及堆放在地板上的档案夹，苏菲是看得懂的。她坐在那儿，看麦可害羞地盯着安歌丽雅小姐，豪尔则使出浑身解数。

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“你怎会知道我是谁？”豪尔摆出诱人的姿态问。

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“你在这个城里好象很引人非议。”安歌丽雅小姐边忙着在桌上的纸堆里寻找，边回答。

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“那些在我背后嚼舌的人都说了些什么？”豪尔渴望地倚着桌子边缘，试着捕捉安歌丽雅小姐的眼光。

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“譬如你常无故失踪，然后又突然出现。”安歌丽雅小姐回答。

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“还有呢？”豪尔的眼光追踪着安歌丽雅小姐的一举一动，脸上的表情让苏菲知道，乐蒂唯一的胜算是安歌丽雅小姐也对豪尔一见钟情。

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但是安歌丽雅小姐可不是那样的女人！她说：“还有很多啦，大多不是什么好话。”说完看看麦可，又看看苏菲，眼光似乎在暗示那些事都不堪入耳，害麦可的脸都红了起来。她拿起一张锯齿边的黄纸给豪尔：“就是这张，”语气很严厉。“你知道这是什么吗？”

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“当然了。”豪尔回答。

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“那么，请告诉我。”安歌丽雅小姐说。

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豪尔接过纸，接着是一阵小小的扭动挣扎，因为他试着将安歌丽雅小姐的手也一起接过来，结果安歌丽雅小姐赢了，把手抽回去缩在背后。豪尔摆出一个会融化人的笑容，将纸拿给麦可，说：“你来解释。”

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麦可羞红的脸看到这张纸后一下开朗起来：“是咒语！噢，这个我办得到！这是放大咒语，对不对？”

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“我也是这么想的。”安歌丽雅小姐语带指责地说：“我倒想知道你要拿这样的东西来干吗？”

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“安歌丽雅小姐，如果你听人家说了我那么多事，你一定知道我的博士论文就是与咒语有关的，你好象怀疑我在使用黑魔术？我可以跟你保证，我这辈子从未使用过任何咒语。”听到这样赤裸裸的谎言，苏菲忍不住由鼻子里轻哼一声。“我可以发誓。”豪尔将手放在胸前，同时对苏菲不悦地皱眉。“这个咒语纯粹是供研究之用。它很古老而且稀罕，所以我才会急着要把它找回来。”

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“你这不就找回去了吗？”安歌丽雅小姐轻快地说：“你离开前能不能把我的作业还给物品？影印是需要钱的。”

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豪尔欣然地将那张灰纸拿出来，但是举在安歌丽雅小姐够不到的地方，说：“这首诗一直困扰着我。听来可能好笑，可是我一直想不起后半段。这是华特.拉雷(WalterRaleigh)的诗，对不对？”

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安歌丽雅小姐气馁地瞪了他一眼。“当然不是！是约翰.邓恩(JohnDonne)写的，很出名的诗。你想复习一下的话，我这儿有书。”

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“那就麻烦你了。”当安歌丽雅小姐去书架上找书时，他的眼睛紧紧跟随着她。苏菲突然了解到，这才是豪尔来到这个家人居住的奇怪地方的真正目的。

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不过豪尔也想一石二鸟。“安歌丽雅小姐，”她伸手取书时，他的眼光一路跟随着她的身材，请求地说：“今晚能跟我一道出外用餐吗？”

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安歌丽雅小姐转过身来，手里拿着一本厚厚的书，表情比方才还要严肃。“不行！”她说：“建肯先生，我不知道你都听人家怎么说的，但你一定知道，我仍旧认为自己和宾.苏利曼的婚约是有效的……”

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“我没听过这个人。”豪尔说。

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“是我未婚夫，”安歌丽雅小姐说：“他数年前失踪。你要我把诗念出来给你听吗？”

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“好的，”豪尔显然毫无悔意。“你拥有非常美丽的声音。”

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“那我就由第二段念起，”安歌丽雅小姐说：“既然你手头已经有第一段了。”她实在念得很好！不只是声音美丽，而且她念的方式使第二段的音律和第一段能够相互呼应。不然依苏菲的看法，这两段的音律应该是完全不搭调的。

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如果你注定要见到奇怪的景象，

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一些人家看不见的景象，

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那就去吧，离家一万个日子，

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直到年龄令你的头发如白雪。

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然后，当你回家时，

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跟我发誓，

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在他处

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绝没有

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美丽的女子忠诚地等你回去。

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如果你……

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豪尔的脸色变得惨白，苏菲可以看到他脸上冒出的冷汗。“谢谢，”他说：“这就够了。其余的不用麻烦了。最后一段说的是，即使是好女人也不忠实对不对？我想起来了。真傻！当然是约翰.邓恩嘛！”安歌丽雅小姐放下手里的书看着他，他勉强挤出一个微笑。“我们得走了。你确定你不会改变主意，跟我一道晚餐吗？”

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“不会，”安歌丽雅小姐问道：“你还好吗？建肯先生。”

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“好的不得了。”豪尔回答。他推着苏菲和麦可下楼，坐进那辆无马驾驶的车里。从豪尔叫他们上车，以及他开走的速度判断，房里那些隐形观众一定会以为安歌丽雅小姐拿刀在追杀他们。

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“到底怎么了？”麦可问。车子吼叫着上坡，苏菲再次死命抓紧座位上的破布。但是豪尔充耳不闻，所以麦可一直等到车子在车库停好后，才再问一次。

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“噢，没什么，”豪尔故做轻松地说，领着他们往那栋黄色的礼本戴尔走去。“不过是被荒地女巫的诅咒赶上，如此而已，反正是迟早要发生的事。”他边打开花园的门，边在脑里计算着什么。“一万，”苏菲听到他喃喃地说：“那大约就是仲夏时节喽。”

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“仲夏时节会发生什么事？”

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“届时我正好活满一万天，”他说，一边大摇大摆地走进礼本戴尔家的花园。“那也是我必须回去荒地的日子。”苏菲和麦可不由得停下脚步，瞧着豪尔的背影，上面写着几个神秘的字——威尔斯橄榄球。“如果我避开美人鱼，”他们听到他继续在自言自语：“然后不去碰曼佗罗的根……”

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麦可叫道：“我们必须回去那栋房子吗？”苏菲叫的则是：“女巫会把你怎样？”

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“我想都不敢想。”豪尔回答。“麦可，你不需要进来没关系。”

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他打开有波浪纹厚玻璃的前门，里面是熟悉的城堡房间。暮色中，卡西法爱困的火焰将墙染成微微的蓝绿色。豪尔卷起长袖，为卡西法添加木头。

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“她追上来啦，老蓝脸！”

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“我知道，”卡西法说：“我感觉到了。”

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The nothingness was only an inch-thick after all. Beyond it, in a gray, drizzling evening, was a cement path down to a garden gate. Howl and Michael were waiting at the gate. Beyond that was a flat, hard-looking road lined with houses on both sides. Sophie looked back at where she had come from, shivering rather in the drizzle, and found the castle had become a house of yellow brick with large windows. Like all the other houses, it was square and new, with a front door of wobbly glass. Nobody seemed to be about among the houses. That may have been due to the drizzle, but Sophie had a feeling that it was really because, in spite of there being so many houses, this was really somewhere at the edge of a town.

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“When you’ve quite finished nosing,” Howl called. His gray-and-scarlet finery was all misted with drizzle. He was dangling a bunch of strange keys, most of which were flat and yellow and seemed to match the houses. When Sophie came down the path, he blurred, as if the drizzle round him had suddenly become a fog. When it came into focus again, it was still scarlet-and-gray, but quite a different shape. The dangling sleeves were gone and the whole outfit was baggier. It looked worn and shabby.

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Michael’s jacket had become a waist-length padded thing. He lifted his foot, wit a canvas shoe on it, and stared at the tight blue things encasing his legs. “I can hardly bend my knee,” he said.

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“You’ll get used to it,” said Howl. “Come on, Sophie.”

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To Sophie’s surprise, Howl led the way back up the garden path toward the yellow house. The back of his baggy jacket, she saw, had mysterious words on it: WELSH RUGBY. Michael followed Howl, walking in a kind of tight strut because of the things on his legs. Sophie looked down at herself and saw twice as much skinny leg showing above her knobby shoes. Otherwise, not much about her had changed.

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Howl unlocked the wavy-glass door with one of his keys. It had a wooden notice hanging beside it on chains. RIVENDELL, Sophie read, as Howl pushed her into a neat, shiny hall space. There seemed to be people in the house. Loud voices were coming from behind the nearest door. When Howl opened that door, Sophie realized that the voices were coming from magic colored pictures moving on the front of a big, square box.

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“Howell!” exclaimed a woman who was sitting there knitting.

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She put down her knitting, looking a little annoyed, but before she could get up, a small girl, who had been watching the magic picture very seriously with her chin in her hands, leaped up and flung herself at Howl. “Uncle Howell!” she screamed, and jumped halfway up Howl with her legs wrapped around him.

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“Mari!” Howl bawled in reply. “How are you, cariad? Been a good girl, then?” He and the little girl broke into a foreign language then, fast and loud. Sophie could see they were very special to one another. She wondered about the language. It sounded the same as Calcifer’s silly saucepan song, but it was hard to be sure. In between bursts of foreign chatter, Howl managed to say, as if he were a ventriloquist, “This I my niece, Mari, and my sister, Megan Parry. Megan, this is Michael Fisher and Sophie-er-”

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“Hatter,” said Sophie.

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Megan shook hands with both of them in a restrained, disapproving way. She was older than Howl, but quite like him, with the same long, angular face, but her eyes were blue and full of anxieties, and her hair was darkish. “Quiet now, Mari!” she said in a voice that cut through the foreign chatter. “Howell, are you staying long?”

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“Just dropped in for a moment,” Howl said, lowering Mari to the floor.

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“Gareth isn’t in yet,” Megan said in a meaning sort of way.

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“What a pity! We can’t stay,” Howl said, smiling a warm, false smile. “I just thought I’d introduce you to my friends here. And I want to ask you something that may sound silly. Has Neil by any chance lost a piece of English homework lately?”

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“Funny you should say that!” Megan exclaimed. “Looking everywhere for it, he was, last Thursday! He’s got this new English teacher, see, and she’s very strict, doesn’t just worry about spelling either. Puts the fear of God into them about getting work in on time. Doesn’t do Neil any harm, lazy little devil! So here he is on Thursday, hunting high and low, and all he can find is a funny old piece of writing-”

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“Ah,” said Howl. “What did he do with that writing?”

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“I told him to hand it in to this Miss Angorian of his,” Megan said. “Might show her he tried for once.”

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“And did he?” Howl asked.

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“I don’t know. Better ask Neil. He’s up in the front bedroom with that machine of his,” said Megan. “But you won’t get a word of sense out of him.”

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“Come on,” Howl said to Michael and Sophie, who were both staring around the shiny brown-and-orange room. He took Mari’s hand and led them all out of the room and up the stairs. Even those had a carpet, a pink-and-green one. So the procession led by Howl hardly made any noise as it went along the pink-and-green passage upstairs and into a room with a blue-and-yellow carpet. But Sophie was not sure the two boys crouched over the various magic boxes on a big table by the window would have looked up even for an army with a brass band. The main magic box had a glass front like the one downstairs, but it seemed to be showing writing and diagrams more than pictures. All the boxes grew on long, floppy white stalks that appeared to be rooted in the wall at one side of the room.

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“Neil!” said Howl.

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“Don’t interrupt,” one of the boys said. “He’ll lose his life,”

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Seeing it was a matter of life and death, Sophie and Michael backed toward the door. But Howl, quite unperturbed at killing his nephew, strode over to the wall and pulled the boxes up by the roots. The picture on the box vanished. Both boys said words which Sophie did not think even Martha knew. The second boy spun round, shouting, “Mari! I’ll get you for that!”

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“Wasn’t me this time. So!” Mari shouted back.

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Neil whirled further round and stared accusingly at Howl. “How do, Neil?” Howl said pleasantly.

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“Who is he?” the other boy asked.

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“My no-good uncle,” Neil said. He glowered at howl. He was dark, with thick eyebrows, and his glower was impressive. “What do you want? Put that plug back in.”

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“There’s a welcome in the valleys!” said Howl. “I’ll put it back when I’ve asked you something and you’ve answered.”

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Neil sighed. “Uncle Howell, I’m in the middle of a computer game.”

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“A new one?” asked Howl.

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Both the boys looked discontented. “No, it’s the one I had for Christmas,” Neil said. “You ought to know the way they go on about wasting time and money on useless things. They won’t give me another till my birthday.”

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“Then that’s easy,” said Howl. “You won’t mind stopping if you’ve done it before, and I’ll bribe you with a new one-”

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“Really?” both boys said eagerly, and Neil added, “Can you make it another of those that nobody else had got?”

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“Yes. But just take a look at this first and tell me what it is,” Howl said, and he held the shiny gray paper out in front of Neil.

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Both boys looked at it. Neil said, “It’s a poem,” in the way most people would say, “It’s a dead rat.”

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“It’s the one Miss Angorian set for last week’s homework,” said the other boy. “I remember ‘wind’ and ‘finned’. It’s about submarines.”

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While Sophie and Michael blinked at this new theory, wondering how they had missed it, Neil exclaimed, “Hey! It’s my long-lost homework. Where’d you find it? Was that funny writing that turned up yours? Miss Angorian said it was interesting-lucky for me-and she took it home with her.”

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“Thank you,” said Howl. “Where does she live?”

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“That flat over Mrs. Phillips’ tea shop. Cardiff Road,” said Neil. “When will you give me the new tape?”

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“When you remember how the rest of the poem goes,” said Howl.

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“That’s not fair!” said Neil. “I can’t even remember the bit that was written down now. That’s just playing with a person’s feelings-!” He stopped when Howl laughed, felt in one baggy pocket, and handed him a flat packet. “Thanks!” Neil said devoutly, and without more ado he whirled round to his magic boxes. Howl planted the bundle of roots back in the wall, grinning, and beckoned Michael and Sophie out of the room. Moth boys began a flurry of mysterious activity, into which Mari somehow squeezed herself, watching with her thumb in her mouth.

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Howl hurried away to the pink-and-green stairs, but Michael and Sophie both hung about near the door of the room, wondering what the whole thing was about. Inside, Neil was reading aloud. “You are in an enchanted castle with four doors. Each opens on a different Dimension. In Dimension One the castle is moving constantly and may arrive at a hazard at any time…”

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Sophie wondered at the familiarity of this as she hobbled to the stairs. She found Michael standing halfway down, looking embarrassed. Howl was at the foot of the stairs having an argument with his sister.

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“What do you mean, you’ve sold all my books?” she heard Howl saying. “I needed one of them particularly. They weren’t yours to sell.”

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“Don’t keep interrupting!” Megan answered in a low, ferocious voice. “Listen now! I’ve told you before I’m not a storehouse for your property. You’re a disgrace to me and Gareth, lounging about in those clothes instead of buying a proper suit and looking respectable for once, taking up with riffraff and layabouts, bringing them to this house! Are you trying to bring me down to your level? You had all that education, and you don’t even get a decent job, you just hang around, wasting all that time at college, wasting all those sacrifices other people made, wasting your money…”

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Megan would have been a match for Mrs. Fairfax. Her voice went on and on. Sophie began to understand how Howl had acquired the habit of slithering out. Megan was the kind of person who made you want to back quietly out of the nearest door. Unfortunately, Howl was backed up against the stairs, and Sophie and Michael were bottled up behind him.

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“…never doing an honest day’s work, never getting a job I could be proud of, bringing shame on me and Gareth, coming here and spoiling Mari rotten,” Megan ground on remorselessly.

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Sophie pushed Michael aside and stumped downstairs, looking as stately as she could manage. “Come, Howl,” she said grandly. “We really must be on our way. While we stand here, money is ticking away and your servants are probably selling the gold plate. So nice to meet you,” she said to Megan as she arrived at the foot of the stairs, “but we must rush. Howl is such a busy man.”

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Megan gulped a bit and stared at Sophie. Sophie gave her a stately nod and pushed Howl toward the wavy-glass front door. Michael’s face was bright red. Sophie saw that because Howl turned back to ask Megan, “Is my old car still in the shed, or have you sold that too?”

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“You’ve got the only set of keys,” Megan answered dourly.

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That seemed to be the only goodbye. The front door slammed and Howl took them to a square white building at the end of the flat black road. Howl did not say anything about Megan. He said, as he unlocked a wide door in the building, “I suppose the fierce English teacher is bound to have a copy of that book.”

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Sophie wished to forget the next bit. They rode in a carriage without horses that went at a terrifying speed, smelling and growling and shaking as it tore down some of the steepest roads Sophie had never seen-roads so steep that she wondered why the houses lining them did not slide into a heap at the bottom. She shut her eyes and clung to some of the pieces that had torn off the seats, and simply hoped it would be over soon.

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Luckily, it was. They arrived in a flatter road with houses crammed in on both sides, beside a large window filled with a white curtain and a notice that said: TEAS CLOSED. But, despite this forbidding notice, when Howl pressed a button at a small door beside the window, Miss Angorian opened the door. They all stared at her. For a fierce schoolteacher, Miss Angorian was astonishingly young and slender and good-looking. She had sheets of blue-black hair hanging round her olive-brown heart-shaped face, and enormous dark eyes. The only thing which suggested fierceness about her was the direct and clever way those enormous eyes looked and seemed to sum them up.

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“I’ll take a small guess that you may be Howell Jenkins,” Miss Angorian said to Howl. She had a low, melodious voice that was nevertheless rather amused and quite sure of itself.

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Howl was taken aback for an instant. Then his smile snapped on. And that, Sophie thought, was goodbye to the pleasant dreams of Lettie and Mrs. Fairfax. For Miss Angorian was exactly the kind of lady someone like Howl could be trusted to fall in love with on the spot. And not only Howl. Michael was staring admiringly too. And though all the houses around were apparently deserted, Sophie had no doubt that they were full of people who all knew both Howl and Miss Angorian and were watching with interest to see what would happen. She could feel their invisible eyes. Market Chipping was like that too.

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“And you must be Miss Angorian,” said Howl. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I made a stupid mistake last week and carried off my nephew’s English homework instead of a rather important paper I had with me. I gather Neil gave it to you as proof that he wasn’t shirking.”

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“He did,” said Miss Angorian. “You’d better come in and collect it.”

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Sophie was sure the invisible eyes in all the houses goggled and the invisible necks craned as Howl and Michael and she trooped in through Miss Angorian’s door and up a flight of stairs to Miss Angorian’s tiny, severe living room.

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Miss Angorian said considerately to Sophie, “Won’t you sit down?”

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Sophie was still shaking from that horseless carriage. She sat down gladly on one of the two chairs. It was not very comfortable. Miss Angorian’s room was not designed for comfort but for study. Though many of the things in it were strange, Sophie understood the walls of books, and the piles of paper on the table, and the folders stacked on the floor. She sat and watched Michael staring sheepishly and Howl turning on his charm.

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“How is it you come to know who I am?” Howl asked beguilingly.

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“You seem to have caused a lot of gossip in this town,” Miss Angorian said, busy sorting through papers on the table.

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“And what have those people who gossip told you?” Howl asked. He leaned languishingly on the end of the table and tried to catch Miss Angorian’s eye.

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“That you disappear and turn up rather unpredictably, for one thing,” Miss Angorian said.

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“And what else?” Howl followed Miss Angorian’s movements with such a look that Sophie knew Lettie’s only chance was for Miss Angorian to fall instantly in love with Howl too.

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But Miss Angorian was not that kind of lady. She said, “Many other things, few of them to your credit,” and caused Michael to blush by looking at him and Sophie in a way that suggested these things were not fit for their ears. She held a yellowish wavy-edged paper out to Howl. “Here it is,” she said severely. “Do you know what it is?”

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“Of course,” said Howl.

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“Then please tell me,” said Miss Angorian.

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Howl took the paper. There was a bit of a scuffle as he tried to take Miss Angorian’s hand with it. Miss Angorian won the scuffle and put her hands behind her back. Howl smiled meltingly and passed the paper to Michael. “You tell her,” he said.

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Michael’s blushing face lit up as soon as he looked at it. “It’s the spell! Oh, I can do this one-it’s enlargement, isn’t it?”

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“That’s what I thought,” Miss Angorian said rather accusingly. “I’d like to know what you were doing with such a thing.”

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“Miss Angorian,” said Howl, “if you have heard all those things about me, you must know I wrote my doctoral thesis on charms and spells. You look as if you suspect me of working black magic! I assure you, I never worked any kind of spell in my life.” Sophie could not stop herself making a small snort at this blatant lie. “With my hand on my heart,” Howl added, giving Sophie an irritated frown, “this spell is for study purposes only. It’s very old and rare. That’s why I wanted it back.”

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“Well, you have it back,” Miss Angorian said briskly. “Before you go, would you mind giving me my homework sheet in return? Photocopies cost money.”

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Howl brought out the gray paper willingly and held it just out of reach. “This poem now,” he said. “It’s been bothering me. Silly, really!-but I can’t remember the rest of it. By Walter Raleigh, isn’t it?”

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Miss Angorian gave him a withering look. “Certainly not. It’s by John Donne and it’s very well known indeed. I have the book with it in here, if you want to refresh your memory.”

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“Please,” said Howl, and from the way his eyes followed Miss Angorian as she went to her wall of books, Sophie realized that this was the real reason why Howl had come into this strange land where his family lived. But Howl was not above killing two birds with one stone. “Miss Angorian,” he said pleadingly, following her contours as she stretched for the book, “would you consider coming out for some supper with me tonight?”

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Miss Angorian turned round with a large book in her hands, looking more severe than ever. “I would not,” she said. “Mr. Jenkins, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but you must have heard that I still consider myself engaged to Ben Sullivan-”

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“Never heard of him,” said Howl.

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“My fiancé,” said Miss Angorian. “He disappeared some years back. Now, do you wish me to read this poem to you?”

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“Do that,” Howl said, quite unrepentant. “You have such a lovely voice.”

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“Then I’ll start with the second verse,” Miss Angorian said, “since you have the first verse there in your hand.” She read very well, not only melodiously, but in a way which made the second verse fit the rhythm of the first, which in Sophie’s opinion it did not do at all:

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“If thou beest born to strange sights,

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Things invisible to see, Ride ten thousand days and nights Till age snow white hairs on thee.

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Thou, when thou returnest, wilt tell me All strange wonders that befell thee, And swear No where Lives a woman true, and fair.

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If thou-”

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Howl had gone a terrible white. Sophie could see sweat standing on his face. “Thank you,” he said. “Stop there. I won’t trouble you for the rest. Even the good woman is untrue in the last verse, isn’t she? I remember now. Silly of me. John Donne, of course.” Miss Angorian lowered the book and stared at him. He forced up a smile. “We must be going now. Sure you won’t change your mind about supper?”

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“I will not,” said Miss Angorian. “Are you quite well, Mr. Jenkins?”

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“In the pink,” Howl said, and he hustled Michael and Sophie away down the stairs and into the horrible horseless carriage. The invisible watchers in the houses must have thought Miss Angorian was chasing them with a saber, if they judged from the speed with which Howl packed them into it and drove off.

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“What’s the matter?” Michael asked as the carriage went roaring and grinding uphill again and Sophie clung to bits of seat for dear life. Howl pretended not to hear. So Michael waited until Howl was locking it into its shed and asked again.

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“Oh, nothing,” Howl said airily, leading the way back to the yellow house called RIVENDELL. “The Witch of the Waste has caught up with me with her curse, that’s all. Bound to happen sooner or later.” He seemed to be calculating or doing sums in his head while he opened the garden gate. “Ten thousand,” Sophie heard him murmur. “That brings it to about Midsummer Day.”

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“What is brought to Midsummer Day?” asked Sophie.

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“The time I’ll be ten thousand days old,” Howl said. “And that, Mrs. Nose,” he said, swinging into the garden of RIVENDELL, “is the day I shall have to go back to the Witch of the Waste.” Sophie and Michael hung back on the path, staring at Howl’s back, so mysteriously labeled WELSH RUGBY. “If I keep clear of mermaids,” they heard him mutter, “and don’t touch a mandrake root-”

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Michael called out, “Do we have to go back into that house?” and Sophie called out, “What will the Witch do?”

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“I shudder to think,” Howl said. “You don’t have to go back in, Michael.”

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He opened the wavy-glass door. Inside was the familiar room of the castle. Calcifer’s sleepy flames were coloring the walls faintly blue-green in the dusk. Howl flung back his long sleeves and gave Calcifer a log.

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“She caught up, old blueface,” he said.

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“I know,” said Calcifer. “I felt it take.”

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