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哈尔的移动城堡|Howl’s Moving Castle

第13章抹黑豪尔的名声

属类： 双语小说 【分类】魔幻小说 -[作者: 黛安娜-W-琼斯] 阅读：[6057]
Chapter 13 In which Sophie blackens Howl’s name
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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他们到达王宫时，苏菲又开始紧张得要命，那些为数众多的圆形屋顶令她目眩神摇。通往前门的是一串长长的阶梯，每隔六个梯级就有一位穿着鲜红制服的士兵在站岗。可怜的孩子们，这么大热天一定快热晕了，苏菲想着。她喘着气，走过一个个士兵的身旁，一路昏沉沉地往上走。

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阶梯再上去是拱门、大厅、长廊、会客室，一个接一个，苏菲也记不清到底有多少个了。每个拱门口都有穿着美丽服装、戴白手套的人问他们来的目的，问完后带他们到下一个拱门，将他们交给拱门口负责接待的人。

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“围龙太太觐见国王。”每个接待者的声音就这样一路混着回音响彻长廊。大约半途中，豪尔被礼貌地请去一旁等候，苏菲和麦可则被人一手转过一手，一直到他们抵达一间壁上镶有数百片颜色各异的木片的接待室。在这儿，麦可也被请去一旁等候，苏菲独自一人，已经有点搞不清自己是不是在做一场怪梦了。有人领着她走过一道大大的双扇门，这次，回声说的是：“陛下，围龙太太觐见。”

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而国王就在那里！不是坐在王座上，而是坐在接近这个大房间中间，一张只点缀着一丁点金叶的方形椅子上，他的穿着远比那些服侍他的人朴素。他身边没有什么人，看起来与常人无异。他一腿外伸，坐得很有国王的威严；胖胖的、轮廓不是非常清晰，但仍算得上是英俊好看。在苏菲看来，他似乎相当年轻，略略带点王者的傲气，但她觉得以那张脸来判断，他对自己其实并不是那么有信心。

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他开口问道：“豪尔巫师的母亲，你找我有什么事？”

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苏菲突然惊觉到，她正面对着国王说话，一时几乎要被这个巨大的事实所淹没。她昏沉地想着，好像坐在那里的人和那个称为王权的庞大、重要的东西，是恰好坐在同一把椅子上的两个不同个体。她脑子一片混沌，豪尔事先教他的那些话，她一句也想不起来，但是她总得说些什么。

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“陛下，他要我来告诉你，他不要帮你去找你弟弟。”她说。

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她瞪着国王，国王也回瞪过来。天哪，一团糟！

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“真的吗？”国王问道：“我问他的时候，他好像蛮乐意的。”

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苏菲脑袋里唯一记得的一件事是：她是来破坏豪尔的名誉的。因此她说：“他骗你的。他不想惹你生气。他滑溜得跟泥鳅一样，您懂我的意思吧？陛下。”

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“而他想从寻找我弟弟贾斯丁的工作上溜走？”国王说：“我知道了。您要不要坐下来？我看您有点年纪了。然后告诉我他的理由。”

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房里还有一把长的很普通的椅子，离国王颇有点距离，苏菲坐下时，椅子叽叽嘎嘎地响，她坐好后，学潘斯德曼太太那样，把双手搭在拐杖上头，希望这样会令她觉得好过些。但她的脑袋仍因为恐惧而一片空白，唯一能想到的是：“只有胆小鬼才会送他的老母亲来为他求情，陛下您由这件事就可以推知他到底是怎样的人了。”

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“这样的方式颇不寻常，”国王沉重地说：“可是我跟他说过，要是他能同意的话，我会给他丰厚的报酬。”

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“噢，他到不是那么在意钱，”苏菲说：“但他实在怕荒地女巫怕的要死。因为那女巫对他下了咒，最近那个咒语已经追上来了。”

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“那样的话，他是很有理由害怕。”国王说着，轻轻地颤抖了一下。“再多告诉我一些关于巫师的事。”

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关于豪尔吗？苏菲拼命地想。我得破坏他的名誉！但是她脑袋空空如也。有一会儿他甚至觉得豪尔似乎毫无瑕疵，这种想法实在有够蠢！“呃，他性格浮躁、粗心自私又歇斯底里，”苏菲说：“大半的时间我觉得他只要自己过得好，根本不管别人死活。但是后来我发现，他其实对某些人好的不得了。然后我又想，他只有在必要的时候才会对人好，但是后来又发现他对贫困者的收费都特别低。陛下，我不知道耶，反正他是一团糟。”

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国王说：“我对他的印象是，他是一个没有原则、滑溜的混混，能言善道又脑袋精光。你同不同意？”

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“说得好！”苏菲完全赞成。“不过你漏掉虚荣和……”

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她狐疑地隔着距离看国王，他好像很乐于帮她抹黑豪尔似的。

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国王微笑着。那是一种略带着不太有把握，很适合他这个人，而不是他应该有的一国之君的微笑。“围龙太太，谢谢你。”他说：“你的坦诚令我如释重负。豪尔巫师答应去找我弟弟，他答应得太爽快了，还我担心他若不是天生爱炫耀，就是为贪图赏金不择手段。但是你让我知道，他正是我需要的人。”

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“天哪！该糟了！”苏菲叹道：“他要我来告诉你，他不要去的。”

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“你是告诉我了。”国王把椅子拉近些。“让我也对你同样坦白吧，围龙太太。”国王说：“我急于找我弟弟回来，不光是因为我喜欢他，很后悔跟他吵了一架；也不是为了有些人在背后谣传说我杀了他——只要是认识我们的人都知道，那根本不可能。围龙太太，事实是，我弟弟贾斯丁石一个非常出色的将军。北高地和始坦奇尔很快就会对我国宣战，我不能没有他。你知道，女巫也威胁过我。现在所有的消息都指出贾斯丁确实尽了荒地，我相信女巫是打定了主意，要让我在最需要他的时候找不到他。我想她把苏利曼巫师抓去，是为了拿他当诱饵来钓贾斯丁，所以我需要一个很聪明、不同凡俗的巫师去把他救回来。”

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“豪尔会偷跑的。”苏菲警告国王。

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“不会的。”国王说：“我不认为如此。由他送你来这件事就看得出来，围龙太太，它是要让我知道他是个懦夫，而且他不在乎我是怎么看他的，对不对？”

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苏菲点点头，她希望她能记住所有豪尔交代她那些技巧高明的话。虽然她不懂，但是国王会听得懂的。

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“这绝不是虚荣的人做的事。”国王说：“没人会这样的，除非是把它当做最后手段。我依此推断，如果我让豪尔巫师清楚知道他的最终手段无效，他就会找我的意思去做了。”

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“陛下，我觉得你的解读可能有错，他应该没有那样的意思。”苏菲说。

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“错不了的，”国王微笑着。原本稍嫌模糊的轮廓突然变得清晰起来，他确信自己判断正确，“围龙太太，你回去跟豪尔巫师说，由现在开始，我任命他为皇家巫师，指挥寻找贾斯丁王子的事宜。在年底前，不论人是死是活都要找到。你可以离开了。”

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他像潘斯得太太那样，对苏菲伸出一只手，但气势没那么可怕。苏菲站起来，不太确定需不需要吻那只手，因为她最想做的，其实是举起拐杖狠狠敲国王的头。她只是握了一下国王的手，并僵硬地行了一个小礼，这样做好像也是对的，她蹒跚地走向门口时，国王给他一个友善的微笑。

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“噢，可恶！”她喃喃自语。这不仅跟豪尔期待的结果完全相反！这下可好了！豪尔还得把城堡搬到千里之外。乐蒂、玛莎和麦可都会很难过不说，还有像倾盆大雨似的绿色粘液铁定会冒出来。“当老大就是这样，”她一边推开那扇沉重的双扇门一边嘀咕：“总是赢不了！”

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出错的还不止这一桩！在困惑与失望之中，苏菲走错了门，进入一间四面都是镜子的接待室。苏菲在镜里看到自己穿着美丽的灰衣裳，略略驼背，蹒跚行走的身影。房里有许多人穿着蓝色宫廷服，其余的人则穿着和豪尔一样美丽的外衣。但是他没看到麦可，麦克应该是在一间墙上铺有各色木片的接待室等她才对。

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“要命！”她叹道。

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有位朝臣急步对她走来：“魔法夫人，我能帮您的忙吗？”

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这是个小个子男人，眼睛红红的。苏菲瞪着他瞧。“噢，我的天！”她惊叹了一声：“咒语生效了，对不对？”

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“是的。”小个子男人带点悲伤的说：“当他一直打喷嚏的时候，我解除了他的武装。现在他在告我，不过，最重要的是……”他的脸快乐地笑开来。“我亲爱的珍终于回到我的身边。现在，我能为您做什么？我觉得您的快乐就是我的责任。”

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“彼此彼此。”苏菲说：“你会不会恰好就是卡特拉克男爵？”

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“正是在下。”小个子朝臣说着，对她弯腰鞠了一个躬。

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珍法丽儿怕不比他高出一尺！苏菲想着，这绝对是我的错！“是的，你可以帮我个忙。”苏菲说。然后跟他描述麦可的长相。

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男爵跟她保证他会叫人去带麦可过来，在入口的大厅和她会合，而且一点也不麻烦。他亲自带苏菲到一位戴手套的侍者前面，将她托付给他，然后一再地鞠躬和微笑。于是，就如同来时那般，她被一个个转手，最后终于蹒跚走下有士兵守卫的那个前门的长梯。

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但是麦可不在那里，豪尔也不在，不过没有看到豪尔反而让她稍稍放心。她想，她早该猜到事情会有这种结果了！那位卡特拉克男爵显然和她一样，永远没办法做对任何事。她能找到路出来，搞不好都算运气了！她又累又热又灰心，决定不再等麦可。她只想在炉火旁的椅子上坐下来，跟卡西法说她如何把事情搞成一团糟。

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她笨拙地走下那堂皇的阶梯，走过一条壮丽的街道，再沿着一条高塔、尖塔和镀金屋顶多到令人头晕目眩的街道走着，她发现情况比她预期的糟糕。她迷路了！她完全没有概念，要如何才能找到豪尔城堡的入口——那个经过伪装的马厩。她转入另一条美丽的大街，但还是毫无印象。

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转到这个时候，她甚至连回王宫的路都不记得了。她试着问路上的行人，但是大部分的人都跟她一样，又热又累。“围龙巫师？”他们问：“那是谁？”

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苏菲无助地蹒跚而行。就在她行将放弃，打算坐在下一个门口过夜时，她正好经过潘恩德曼太太的屋子所坐落的窄路。啊，她想，我可以去问她的仆人，他看起来跟豪尔很亲，应该会知道豪尔住那里。所以她就转身向那条街走去。

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就在这时，荒地女巫对着她迎面走来。很难说苏菲是怎么认出她的，因为她的脸看起来并不相同。她的头发在上次见到时是整齐的栗子色卷发，而现在则是浓密的红色波浪，且一直垂到腰间。她穿着一件飘逸的褐色及浅黄色衣服，看起来非常时髦可爱。苏菲一眼就认出她了，脚步几乎要停下来。

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但是苏菲想，她没有理由会记得我，我不过是她下咒害过的几百个人里面的一个。所以她勇敢地继续前进，拐杖在圆石子路上敲出砰砰的声音，同时在心里提醒自己，万一有麻烦的话，潘思德曼太太说过，这根拐杖已成为有强大力量的法器。

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这时另一个错误！女巫在小路上对着她飘过来，微笑着并转动着阳伞，后头跟着两位穿桔色丝绒制服，脸色闷闷不乐的侍童。当她走到与苏菲平行时，她停下来，香水味直钻入苏菲的鼻子。“咦，这不是海特小姐吗？”女巫笑着说：“我看过的脸孔决不会忘记，尤其是我制造出来的，更不会忘。你来这里干嘛？穿得那么漂亮！如果你想拜访那个潘思德曼太太的话，你可以不用麻烦了。那老家伙已经死了。”

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“死了？”苏菲吓了一大跳，一句话差点脱口而出：可是她一个钟头前还活着呀！但是她硬生生把话吞回去。因为死亡就是这么回事——人们一直到死前都是活着的。

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“是的，死了，”女巫说。“谁叫她拒绝告诉我，一个我在找的人住在哪。她说：‘除非我死了。’所以我就帮她了结她的心愿。”

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她在找豪尔！她思索着：现在我该怎么办？如果苏菲不是又热又累的话，她早就吓得不知该如何思考了。一个能力强到足以杀死潘思德曼太太的女巫，要对付苏菲简直是轻而易举，不管有没有拐杖都一样。如果让她起了疑心，怀疑苏菲可能知道豪尔的下落的话，苏菲铁定完蛋。所以也许苏菲记不起城堡的入口处反倒是好事一件。

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“我不知道你杀的那个人是谁，”她说：“但那让你变成一个邪恶的杀人凶手。”

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但是女巫似乎还是动了疑心，故意问道：“我记得你说过要去拜访潘思德曼太太？”

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“没有啊，”苏菲不上当。“那是你自己说的。我即使不认识她，冲着你杀了她这一点，我还是可以叫你是谋杀者。”

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“不然你要去哪里？”女巫问。

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苏菲很想叫她少管闲事，但那样无疑自找麻烦，所以她说出她唯一想得到的事：“我要去见国王。”

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女巫不相信，哈哈大笑。“可是，国王肯见你吗？”

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“当然了！”苏菲因为既害怕又生气而发抖着。“我有预定见面时间的。我要……要请求他给与帽商较好的工作环境。好叫你知道，虽然你把我变成这样，我还是一直在工作的。”

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“那你走错方向了。”女巫说：“王宫在你后面。”

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“噢，是吗？”她不用假装惊讶：“那我一定是转错方向了。自从你把我变成这样，我的方向感就变得很差。”

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女巫高兴地大笑，说她一句也不相信。“跟我来，我会指给你看到王宫的路怎么走。”

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苏菲别无选择，只能转身跟在女巫身边走，那两个侍童则苦着脸跟在她们后面。

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气愤与无助感笼罩在苏菲的心头，她看着身旁步伐流畅优雅的女巫，想起潘思德曼太太说的，她其实已经是一个老妇。不由在心中大叫：不公平！但是她丝毫无能为力。

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“为什么你要把我变成这样？”她们走到一条尽头有喷泉的美丽大街时，苏菲忍不住问她。

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“你妨碍我搜集一些我需要的情报。”女巫回答。“当然，最后我还是拿到手了。”苏菲听得一头雾水，她正在想，若跟她说她一定是搞错了，不知会不会有帮助时，女巫说了：“不过，我敢说你是完全一无所知！”说完开心地大笑，仿佛这是整个事件中最好笑的一部分。然后她问道：“你有没有听说过一个叫做威尔斯的国家？”

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“没有。那是在海底下吗？”

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女巫觉得这个超爆笑的。“目前还没。那时豪尔巫师的老家。你知道豪尔巫师吧？”

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“听人说过。”苏菲撒谎：“人家说他会吃女孩子，他跟你一样邪恶。”边说边觉得全身冰冷，但是，这和她们当时正经过的喷泉似乎无关。过了喷泉，越过一个粉红色大理石铺就的广场，就是通往王宫的石梯，王宫高高地坐在上头。

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“到了，王宫就在那儿。”女巫问道：“你有办法应付那些阶梯吗？”

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“不会输你的。”苏菲说：“你把我变回年轻的样子，就是这种大热天我都可以跑给你看。”

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“那乐趣就要减掉一半了。”女巫说：“上去吧！如果你真见到了国王，替我提醒他，是他的祖父把我送去荒地的。我跟他有仇。”

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苏菲抬眼看那长长的阶梯，心里充满无助感。唯一庆幸的是，除了士兵之外，没有别人在场，但是依她今天的运气看来，如果麦可和豪尔偏在这时往下走来，她也不会太过惊讶。女巫显然决定站在那里看她走上去，苏菲别无选择，只好努力地爬楼梯。脚步蹒跚地走着，经过汗流浃背的士兵们，一直走到王宫的入口处，每走一步就更恨女巫一分，到达最顶端时，她喘着气转过身子，发现女巫仍站在原处，远远看去像片浮动的枯叶，旁边是两个小小的桔色形体。她在等着看好戏，看苏菲被人由王宫撵出来。

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“诅咒她！”苏菲恨恨地说。她蹒跚地走到拱门的守卫那儿，运气仍然不佳——麦可和豪尔都不在她视力所及的范围内。逼不得已，她只好跟守卫说：“我有事忘了跟国王说。”

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他们还记得她，所以让她进去了，由戴白手套的接待人员接待她。苏菲还没把事情想清楚前，王宫的接待机制又开始运转了，她又像第一次那样，被一手传过一手，直到她又抵达那个双扇门，同一个穿蓝色制服的人宣告道：“陛下，围龙太太再度求见。”

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苏菲走进同一个大房间时想着，这真像是一场恶梦！她除了进一步破坏豪尔的名誉之外，似乎别无选择。问题是，在经过那么多事以及再度的严重怯场后，她的脑袋只有比以前更空白。

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这次国王站在角落的一张大书桌前，热切地在一张地图上移动棋子。他抬起头来，和颜悦色地说：“他们说你有要紧的话忘了跟我说。”

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“是的，”苏菲回道：“豪尔说，除非你答应把公主嫁给他，他才肯去找贾斯丁王子。”我哪来的怪念头？她心里暗骂自己，他会把我们两人一起宰了。

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国王忧虑地看了她一眼。“围龙太太，你应该知道这是不可能的。”他说：“我能了解你的心情，你一定是非常担心你儿子才会这么说，但是你不能永远把他绑在身边呀。这件事我已经决定了。请过来坐下，你看来很疲倦。”

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苏菲拐着走到国王指着的那张椅子，沉重地坐下去，心想不知何时卫兵会进来逮捕她。

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国王四处略略张望一下，说：“我女儿刚刚还在这里的。”然后，苏菲吓了一大跳，他弯身在桌子下找。“薇乐莉雅，”他唤着：“薇莉，出来啰。这边，乖。”

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底下传来一阵小小的脚步声，不一会儿，薇乐莉雅有桌下侧身而出，坐在地上，和气地露齿微笑。她共有四颗牙，因为年纪还小，头发尚未长全，只在耳上显出稀疏且接近白色的一圈。她看到苏菲时，嘴咧得更开，将刚在吸吮的大拇指伸出来，抓住苏菲的衣服。就这样拉着她的裙子站起来，在苏菲的裙子上留下一条湿印。

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然后直直望着苏菲的脸，小薇乐莉雅以一种完全属于她自己的外国语言，对苏菲和气的咿咿呀呀致意。

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“噢。”苏菲觉得自己像个超级笨蛋。

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“围龙太太，我了解为人父母者的感受。”国王说。

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Sophie was feeling decidedly queer again when they reached the Palace. Its many golden domes dazzled her. The way to the front entrance was up a huge flight of steps, with a soldier in scarlet standing every six steps. The poor boys must have been near fainting in this heat, Sophie thought as she puffed her way dizzily past them. At the top of the steps were archways, halls, corridors, lobbies, one after another. Sophie lost count of how many. At every archway a splendidly dressed person wearing white gloves-still somehow white in spite of the heat-inquired their business and then led them on to the next personage in the next archway.

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“Mrs. Pendragon to see the King!” the voice of each echoed down the halls.

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About halfway, Howl was politely detached and told to wait. Michael and Sophie went on being handed from person to person. They were taken upstairs, after which the splendid persons were dressed in blue instead of red, and handed on again until they came to an anteroom paneled in a hundred different-colored woods. There Michael was peeled off and made to wait too. Sophie, who by this time was not at all sure whether she was not having some strange dream, was ushered through huge double doors, and this time the echoing voice said, “Your Majesty, here is Mrs. Pendragon to see you.”

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And there was the King, not on a throne, but sitting in a rather square chair with only a little gold leaf on it, near the middle of a large room, and dressed much more modestly than the persons who waited on him. He was quite alone, like an ordinary person. True, he sat with one leg thrust out in a kingly sort of manner, and he was handsome in a plump, slightly vague way, but to Sophie he seemed quite youthful and just a touch too proud of being a king. She felt he ought, with that face, to have been more unsure of himself.

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He said, “Well, what does Wizard Howl’s mother want to see me about?”

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And Sophie was suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that she was standing talking to the King. It was, she thought dizzily, as if the man sitting there and the huge, important thing which was kingship were two separate things that just happened to occupy the same chair. And she found she had forgotten every word of the careful, delicate things Howl had told her to say. But she had to say something.

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“He sent me to tell you he’s not going to look for your brother,” she said. “Your Majesty.”

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She stared at the King. The King stared back. It was a disaster.

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“Are you sure?” asked the King. “The Wizard seemed quite willing when I talked to him.”

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The one thing Sophie had left in her head was that she was here to blacken Howl’s name, so she said, “He lied about that. He didn’t want to annoy you. He’s a slitherer-outer, if you know what I mean, Your Majesty.”

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“And he hopes to slither out of finding my brother Justin,” said the King. “I see. Won’t you sit down, since I see you are not young, and tell me the Wizard’s reasons?”

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There was another plain chair rather a long way from the King. Sophie creaked herself down into it and sat with her hands propped on her stick like Mrs. Pentstemmon, hoping that would make her feel better. But her mind was still simply a roaring white blank of stagefright. All she could think of to say was, “Only a coward would send his old mother along to plead for him. You can see what he’s like just from that, Your Majesty.”

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“It is an unusual step,” the King said gravely. “But I told him that I’d make it worth his while if he agreed.”

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“Oh, he doesn’t care about money,” Sophie said. “But he’s scared stiff of the Witch of the Waste, you see. She put a curse on him and it’s just caught up with him.”

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“Then he has every reason to be scared,” the King said with a slight shiver. “But tell me more, please, about the Wizard.”

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More about Howl? Sophie thought desperately. I have to blacken his name! Her mind was such a blank that for a second it actually seemed to her that Howl had no faults at all. How stupid! “Well, he’s fickle, careless, selfish, and hysterical,” she said. “Half the time I think he doesn’t care what happens to anyone as long as he’s all right-but then I find out how awfully kind he’s been to someone. Then I think he’s kind just when it suits him-only then I find out he undercharges poor people. I don’t know, Your Majesty. He’s a mess.”

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“My impression,” said the King, “was that Howl is an unprincipled, slippery rogue with a glib tongue and a clever mind. Would you agree?”

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“How well you put it!” Sophie said heartily. “But you left out how vain he is and-” She looked suspiciously at the King across the yards of carpet. He seemed so surprisingly ready to help her blacken Howl’s name.

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The King was smiling. It was the slightly uncertain smile that went with the person he was, rather than the king he ought to be. “Thank you, Mrs. Pendragon,” he said. “Your outspokenness has taken a great weight off my mind. The Wizard agreed to look for my brother so readily that I thought I had picked the wrong man after all. I feared he was someone who was either unable to resist showing off or would do anything for money. But you have shown me he is just the man I need.”

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“Oh, confound it!” Sophie cried out. “He sent me to tell you he wasn’t!”

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“And so you did.” The King hitched his chair an inch toward Sophie’s. “Let me be equally outspoken now,” he said. “Mrs. Pendragon, I need my brother back badly. It is not just that I am fond of him and regret the quarrel we had. It is not even that certain people are whispering that I did away with him myself-which anyone who knows us both knows to be perfect nonsense. No, Mrs. Pendragon. The fact is, my brother Justin is a brilliant general and, with High Norland and Strangia about to declare war on us, I can’t do without him. The Witch has threatened me too, you know. Now that all reports agree that Justin did indeed go into the Waste, I am certain that the Witch meant me to be without him when I needed him most. I think she took Wizard Suliman as bait to fetch Justin. And it follows that I need a fairly clever and unscrupulous wizard to get him back.”

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“Howl will just run away,” Sophie warned the King.

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“No,” said the King. “I don’t think he will. The fact that he sent you tells me that. He did it to show me he was too much of a coward to care what I thought of him, isn’t that right, Mrs. Pendragon?”

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Sophie nodded. She wished she could have remembered all Howl’s delicate remarks. The King would have understood them even if she did not.

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“Not the act of a vain man,” the King said. “But no one would do that except as a last resort, which shows me that Wizard Howl will do what I want if I make it clear to him that his last resort has failed.”

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“I think you may be-er-taking delicate hints that aren’t there, Your Majesty,” Sophie said.

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“I think not.” The King smiled. His slightly vague features had all firmed up. He was sure he was right. “Tell Wizard Howl, Mrs. Pendragon, that I am appointing him Royal Wizard as from now, with our Royal Command to find Prince Justin, alive or dead, before the year is out. You have our leave to go now.”

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He held out his hand to Sophie, just like Mrs. Pentstemmon, but a little less royally. Sophie levered herself up, wondering if she was meant to kiss this hand or not. But since she felt more like raising her stick and beating the King over the head with it, she shook the King’s hand and gave a creaking little curtsy. It seemed to be the right thing to do. The King gave her a friendly smile as she hobbled away to the double doors.

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“Oh, curses!” she muttered to herself. It was not only exactly what Howl did not want. Howl would now move the castle a thousand miles away. Lettie, Martha, and Michael would all be miserable, and no doubt there would be torrents of green slime into the bargain as well. “It comes of being the eldest,” she muttered while she was shoving the heavy doors open. “You just can’t win!”

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And here was another thing which had gone wrong. In her annoyance and disappointment, Sophie had somehow come out through the wrong set of double doors. This anteroom had mirrors all round it. In them she could see her own little bent, hobbling shape in its fine gray dress, a great many people in blue Court dress, others in suits as fine as Howl’s, but no Michael. Michael of course was hanging about in the anteroom paneled in a hundred kinds of wood.

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“Oh, drat!” said Sophie.

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One of the courtiers hastened up to her and bowed. “Madam Sorceress! Can I be of assistance?”

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He was an undersized young man, rather red-eyes. Sophie stared at him. “Oh, good gracious!” she said. “So the spell worked!”

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“It did indeed,” said the small courtier a little ruefully. “I disarmed him while he was sneezing and he is now suing me. But the important thing-” his face spread into a happy smile-“is that my dear Jane has come back to me! Now, what can I do for you? I feel responsible for your happiness.”

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“I’m not sure that it mightn’t be the other way round,” Sophie said. “Are you by any chance the count of Catterack?”

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“At your service,” said the small courtier, bowing.

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Jane Farrier must be a good foot taller than he is! Sophie thought. It is all definitely my fault. “Yes, you can help me,” she said, and explained about Michael.

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The Count of Catterack assured her that Michael would be fetched and brought down to the entrance hall to meet her. It was no trouble at all. He took Sophie to a gloved attendant himself and handed her over with much bowing and smiling. Sophie was handed to another attendant, then another, just as before, and eventually hobbled her way down to the stairs guarded by the soldiers.

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Michael was not there. Neither was Howl, but that was a small relief to Sophie. She thought she might have guessed it would be like this! The Count of Catterack was obviously a person who never got a thing right, and she was another herself. It was probably lucky she had even found the way out. By now she was so tired and hot and dejected that she decided not to wait for Michael. She wanted to sit down in the fireside chair and tell Calcifer the mess she had made of things.

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She hobbled down he grand staircase. She hobbled down a grand avenue. She stumped along another, where spires and towers and gilded roofs circled round in giddy profusion. And she realized it was worse than she had thought. She was lost. She had absolutely no idea how to find the disguised stable where the castle entrance was. She turned up another handsome thoroughfare at random, but she did not recognize that either. By now she did not even know the way back to the Palace. She tried asking people she met. Most of them seemed as hot and tired as she was. “Wizard Pendragon?” they said. “Who is he?”

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Sophie hobbled on hopelessly. She was near giving up and sitting on the next doorstep for the night, when she passed the end of the narrow street where Mrs. Pentstemmon ‘s house was. Ah! she thought. I can go and ask the footman. He and Howl were so friendly that he must know where Howl lives. So she turned down the street.

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The Witch of the Waste was coming up it towards her.

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How Sophie recognized the Witch would be hard to say. Her face was different. Her hair, instead of being orderly chestnut curls, was a rippling mass of red, hanging almost to her waist, and she was dressed in floating flutters of auburn and pale yellow. Very cool and lovely she looked. Sophie knew her at once. She almost stopped, but not quite.

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There’s no reason she should remember me, Sophie thought. I must be just one of hundreds of people she’s enchanted. And Sophie stumped boldly on, thumping her stick on the cobbles and reminding herself, in case of trouble, that Mrs. Pentstemmon had said that same stick had become a powerful object.

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That was another mistake. The Witch came floating up the little street, smiling, twirling her parasol, followed by two sulky-looking page boys in orange velvet. When she came level with Sophie, she stopped, and tawny perfume filled Sophie’s nose. “Why, it’s Miss Hatter!” the Witch said, laughing. “I never forget a face, particularly if I’ve made it myself! What are you doing here, dressed up all so fine? It you’re thinking of calling on that Mrs. Pentstemmon, you can save yourself the trouble. The old biddy’s dead.”

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“Dead?” said Sophie. She had a silly impulse to add, But she was alive an hour ago! And she stopped herself, because death is like that: people are alive until they die.

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“Yes. Dead,” said the Witch. “She refused to tell me where someone was that I want to find. She said, ‘Over my dead body!’ so I took her at her word.”

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She’s looking for Howl! Sophie thought. Now what do I do? If she had not been so very hot and tired, Sophie would have been almost too scared to think. For a witch who could kill Mrs. Pentstemmon would have no trouble with Sophie, stick or no stick. And if she suspected for a moment that Sophie knew where Howl was, that could be the end of Sophie. Perhaps it was just as well Sophie could not remember where the castle entrance was.

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“I don’t know who this person is that you’ve killed,” she said, “but that makes you a wicked murderess.”

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But the Witch did seem to suspect anyway. She said, “But I thought you said you were going to call on Mrs. Pentstemmon?”

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“No,” said Sophie. “It was you said that. I don’t have to know her to call you wicked for killing her.”

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“Then where were you going?” said the Witch.

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Sophie was tempted to tell the Witch to mind her own business. But that was asking for trouble. So she said the only other thing she could think of. “I’m going to see the King,” she said.

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The Witch laughed disbelievingly. “But will the King see you?”

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“Yes, of course,” Sophie declared, trembling with terror and anger. “I made an appointment. I’m-going to petition him for better conditions for hatters. I keep going, you see, even after what you did to me.”

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“Then you’re going in the wrong direction,” said the Witch. “The Palace is behind you.”

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“Oh? Is it?” said Sophie. She did not have to pretend to be surprised. “Then I must have got turned around. I’ve been a little vague about directions since you made me like this.”

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The Witch laughed heartily and did not believe a word of it. “Then come with me,” she said, “and I’ll show you the way to the Palace.”

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There seemed nothing Sophie could do but turn round and stump beside the Witch, with the two page boys trudging sullenly behind them both. Anger and hopelessness settled over Sophie. She looked at the Witch floating gracefully beside her and remembered Mrs. Pentstemmon had said the Witch was an old woman really. It’s not fair! Sophie thought, but there was nothing she could do about it.

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“Why did you make me like this?” she demanded as they went up a grand thoroughfare with a fountain on top of it.

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“You were preventing me getting some information I needed,” the Witch said. “I got it in the end, of course.” Sophie was quite mystified by this. She was wondering whether it would do any good to say there must be some mistake, when the Witch added, “Though I daresay you had no idea you were,” and laughed, as if that was the funniest part of it. “Have you heard of a land called Wales?” she asked.

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“No,” said Sophie. “Is it under the sea?”

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The Witch found this funnier than ever. “Not at the moment,” she said. “It’s where Wizard Howl comes from. You know Wizard Howl, don’t you?”

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“Only by hearsay,’” Sophie lied. “He eats girls. He’s as wicked as you.” But she felt rather cold. It did not seem to be due to the fountain they were passing at that moment. Beyond the fountain, across a pink marble plaza, were the stone stairs with the Palace at the top.

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“There you are. There’s the Palace,” said the Witch. “Are you sure you can manage all those stairs?”

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“None the better for you,” said Sophie. “Make me young again and I’ll run up them, even in this heat.”

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“That wouldn’t be half so funny,” said the Witch. “Up you go. And if you do persuade the King to see you, remind him that his grandfather sent me to the Waste and I bear him a grudge for that.”

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Sophie looked hopelessly up the long flight of stairs. At least there was nobody but soldiers on them. With the luck she was having today, it would not surprise her to find Michael and Howl on their way down. Since the Witch was obviously going to stand there and make sure she went up, Sophie had no choice but to climb them. Up she hobbled, past the sweating soldiers, all the way to the Palace entrance again, hating the Witch more with every step. She turned round, panting, at the top. The Witch was still there, a floating russet shape at the foot, with two small orange figures beside her, waiting to se her thrown out of the Palace.

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“Drat her!” said Sophie. She hobbled over to the guards at the archway. Her bad luck held still. There was no sign of Michael or Howl in the reaches beyond. She was forced to say to the guards, “There was something I forgot to tell the King.”

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They remembered her. They let her inside, to be received by a personage in white gloves. And before Sophie had collected her wits, the Palace machinery was in motion again and she was being handed from person to person, just like the first time, until she arrived at the same double doors and the same person in blue was announcing, “Mrs. Pendragon to see you again, Your Majesty.”

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It was like a bad dream, Sophie thought as she went into the same large room. She seemed to have no choice but to blacken Howl’s name again. The trouble was, what with all that had happened, and stagefright again into the bargain, her mid was blanker than ever. The King, this time, was standing at a large desk in one corner, rather anxiously moving flags about on a map. He looked up and said pleasantly, “They tell me there was something you forgot to say.”

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“Yes,” said Sophie. “Howl says he’ll only look for Prince Justin if you promise him your daughter’s hand in marriage.” What put that into my head? she thought. He’ll have us both executed!

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The King gave her a concerned look. “Mrs. Pendragon, you must know that’s out of the question,” he said. “I can see you must be very worried about your son to suggest it, but you can’t keep him tied to your apron strings forever, you know, and my mind is made up. Please come and sit in this chair. You seem tired.”

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Sophie tottered to the low chair the King pointed to and sank into it, wondering when the guards would arrive to arrest her.

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The King looked vaguely around. “My daughter was here just now,” he said. To Sophie’s considerable surprise, he bent down and looked under the desk. “Valeria,” he called. “Vallie, come on out. This way, there’s a good girl.”

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There was a shuffling noise. After a second, Princess Valeria shunted herself out from under the desk in sitting position, grinning benignly. She had four teeth. But she was not old enough to have grown a proper head of hair. All she had was ring of wispy whiteness above her ears. When she saw Sophie, she grinned wider yet and reached out with the hand she had just been sucking and took hold of Sophie’s dress. Sophie’s dress responded with a spreading wet stain as the princess hauled herself to her feet on it. Staring up into Sophie’s face, Valeria addressed a friendly remark to her in what was clearly a private foreign language.

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“Oh,” said Sophie, feeling an awful fool.

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“I understand how a parent feels, Mrs. Pendragon,” said the King.

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