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哈尔的移动城堡|Howl’s Moving Castle

第17章移动的城堡搬家

属类： 双语小说 【分类】魔幻小说 -[作者: 黛安娜-W-琼斯] 阅读：[6061]
Chapter 17 In which the moving castle moves house
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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豪尔拼命工作，仿佛他才刚休息了一整个星期般，要不是苏菲亲眼看到他一小时前那场令人精疲力尽的魔法大战，她绝不会相信。他和麦可跑来跑去，彼此喊着一些量好的尺寸，然后在他们以前用金属架固定的地方用粉笔画上奇怪的符号。他们似乎必须用粉笔在每一个角落做记号，连后院也不放过。苏菲楼梯下的小窝以及浴室屋顶那个形状不规则的空间，似乎颇令他们伤了一阵脑筋。苏菲跟狗人被赶过来又赶过去，最后是赶到远远的一边，以便麦可可以趴在地板上，在地板上的圆圈内以粉笔画出一个五角星。

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麦可才刚弄完，将灰尘与粉笔末由膝盖掸落时，豪尔冲了进来，黑衣服上满是一块块的白色涂料。苏菲跟狗人又被赶一边去了，好让豪尔能在地上爬来爬去，在圆圈及星星的里里外外写上符号。苏菲跟狗人只好去坐在楼梯上，狗人发着抖，这好象不是它所喜欢的魔法。

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豪尔跟麦可冲到院子里去，然后豪尔又冲回来。“苏菲！”他大叫：“快点！我们店里要卖什么？”

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“花。”苏菲说，心里再次想到菲菲克丝太太。

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“好极了！”豪尔说着，快步走到门口，手里拿着一桶油漆跟一把小刷子。他将刷子浸到油漆里，小心地将蓝点漆成黄色。他再度浸一次刷子，这次变成紫色，他用来改变绿色的部分。第三次油漆是橘色的，用来覆盖原先红色的部分。豪尔没有动黑色的地方。当他转身离开时，袖子的尾端跟刷子一起掉入油漆桶里。“该死！”他咕哝着，将袖子拖出来。袖子尖端沾有彩虹的七种颜色，但是豪尔一甩，又变回黑色。

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“那到底是哪件衣服？”苏菲问。

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“我忘了。别吵！困难的才要开始。”豪尔说完，匆匆将油漆桶拿到工作台上，然后拿起一小瓶的粉，叫道：“麦可，银铲子在哪里？”

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麦可由院子跑进来，手里拿着一个大大的、发光的铲子。柄是木制的，但是铲身看来倒是纯银制作。“全放这儿。”

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豪尔将铲子放在膝上，以便在铲柄和铲身都画上记号。他由瓶子里洒了些红粉在上面。然后小心翼翼地在星星的每个尖角放上一点同样的粉末，其余的则全部放到中间。

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“清场了，麦可。”他说：“大家都清场。卡西法，你准备好了没？”

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卡西法由它的木头间窜出一条长长的蓝焰，“不能再好了。”它说：“你知道这可能会害我丧命的。”

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“往好处想吧，”豪尔说：“被杀的可能是我。抓紧了！一、二、三。”他把铲子稳稳地，缓慢地插到炉架下面，让它与栅栏平行，然后轻巧地稍稍推到卡西法下面。接着，他更为稳定、小心地将铲子举其，麦可显然一直屏息以待。“好了！”豪尔说。木头倒向一边，似乎不再燃烧。豪尔站起来，转身，卡西法就在他手里的铲子上。

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屋里充满了烟，狗人轻声吠叫并且发抖。豪尔咳着，因此有些难以保持铲子的稳定。苏菲的眼睛被烟熏得泪汪汪，看东西是一片模糊，但是就她视力所见，正如以前卡西法告诉她的一样，它不仅没有脚也没有腿，只是一个长长尖尖的蓝恋，根植在一个微微发光的黑块上头，这黑色块状物的前头有一个凹点，第一眼看去会误以为卡西法盘着细小的腿跪着，但是苏菲发现，事实并非如此。当那黑块在铲上微微晃动时，看得出下面是圆的。卡西法显然非常没有安全感，它的橘色眼睛因恐惧而圆睁着，身体两侧不是发射出微弱、类似小手臂的火焰，徒劳无攻地想抓住铲子的周边。

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“很快就好了！”豪尔想安慰它，但一开口就呛到。他紧闭着嘴，一动也不动地站着，强要把那咳嗽压下去。铲子微微动着，卡西法看来是吓坏了，豪尔小心地向前跨出一大步，进入粉笔的圆圈，然后，将铲子平举着，他开始慢慢转圈，转了整整360度。卡西法跟着他转，脸色转为淡蓝色，眼里满是惊恐。

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然后，好象整个房间都跟着他们一起转动起来。狗人靠着苏菲蹲着，麦可脚步踉跄。苏菲觉得他们所处的世界似乎与整个世界脱轨，以令人昏眩的方式摇晃并急速轻快地旋转着。

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她一点也不怪卡西法会惊慌失措。当豪尔由圆圈和星星里小心地跨出来时，所有的东西都仍在摇动旋转。豪尔在壁炉前跪下，极度小心地将卡西法滑进炉架，然后在它周围围上木头，卡西法的绿焰马上窜到最高点，豪尔倚着壁炉咳起来。

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房间摇啊摇的，慢慢安定下来，好一会儿，烟仍弥漫着整个房间，但是苏菲惊喜地由那熟悉的轮廓看出，这是她出生的房子的会客室。虽然地上只剩光溜溜的地板，墙上也没半张图，她还是认得出来。城堡的房间似乎挤进会客室的空间，把这边挤出去一点，那边拉进来一些，天花板拉下来以配合它有梁木的天花板，知道二者融合为一，又成为城堡房间的模样。只不过，现在是稍微高些，也方正一些。

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“卡西法，你弄好了没有？”豪尔咳着问。

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“应该是好了。”卡西法边说着，边升到烟囱上。那趟铲子之旅似乎未造成任何伤害。

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“不过，你最好自己检查一遍。”

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豪尔拄着铲子站起来，将门把牛到黄点向下打开来，外面是苏菲打出生以来所熟知的马克奇平的街道。她所熟悉的人们，在晚餐之前到街上来散步，这是许多人夏天的习惯。豪尔跟卡西法点个头，关上门，门把转到橘色向下，然后再打开。

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一条宽宽的、长满杂草的路由门口展开，蜿蜒伸入侧面被低沉的夕阳映照得如图画般美丽的树林。远处站着一座上有雕像的雄伟石门。“这是什么？”豪尔问。

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“是山谷尾端一间空的毫宅。”卡西法语带防卫地说：“你不是叫我找个好房子吗？这个很好啊。”

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“我相信它是的，”豪尔说：“我只是希望它真正的主人不会介意。”他关上门，将门把转为紫色朝下，“现在是移动的城堡。”他边说边将门打开。

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那儿已近黄昏，一阵带着不同香味的暖风吹进来，苏菲看到整片暗色树叶在眼前漂浮过去，间杂有硕大的紫花。这些慢慢地转开去，景色被整片模糊的白色百合所取代，隐约还可瞥见阳光照在下面的湖水，味道是那么甜美，苏菲被吸引着，等惊觉时已走过半个房间。

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“不行，到明天早上之前，你的长鼻子都不准多事。”豪尔说完，用力把门关上。“那部分正坐落在荒地的边缘。做得好，卡西法！太完美了！正如事先预计的一般，一栋好房子及许多花。”然后就丢下铲子上床去了。豪尔一定是非常累了，他既没有呻吟、叫嚣，也几乎没有咳嗽声。

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苏菲跟麦可也疲倦了。麦可跌坐在椅子上，抚摸着狗，眼睛空洞无神。苏菲坐在凳子上，感觉很奇怪。他们搬家了！感觉一样，却又有所不同，真是令人迷惘！而且，为什么移动的城堡会在荒地的边缘呢？是那咒语将豪尔往女巫拉近吗？或者豪尔老是拼命开溜，溜到后来想开了，反而变诚实了？

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苏菲看看麦可，想知道他是怎么想的，但麦可睡着了，狗人也是。苏菲转头去看卡西法，它在烧成玫瑰色的木头间困倦地摇曳着，橘色的眼睛几乎要阖起来了。她想到卡西法喘着气，脸色发白，眼睛也变成白色，还有它在铲子上摇晃，目光惊恐的样子。它让她想到了什么，它的整个形状让她联想到了什么。

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“卡西法，”她问道：“你曾经是一颗流星吗？”

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卡西法张开一双橘色的眼睛看她。“当然，”它说：“一旦你知道了，我就可以谈论它，这是契约所允许的。”

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“是豪尔抓住了你？”

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“五年前，”卡西法说：“在避难港的沼泽地，就在他刚刚以建肯魔法师之名开业不久。他穿着七里格靴追我，我怕他怕得要死，反正我很怕就是了，因为只要你开始往下跌，你就知道你要死了，我愿意不计代价避免死亡。当豪尔提议说让我用人类的方式活着时，我当场提出一个契约，但是我们都不知道事情的严重性。我充满感激，而豪尔完全是出于同情我。”

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“跟麦可那天一样。”苏菲说。

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“你们在说什么？”麦可醒过来，说：“苏菲，我但愿我们不是在荒地的边缘上。我事先不知道，所以现在我觉得没有安全感。”

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“在巫师家里没有人会安全的。”卡西法感性地说。

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次日早晨，门被设定在黑色朝下。但是，苏菲懊恼的是，门怎么样都打不开。她想看花！管他女巫不女巫的！为了发泄心中的不耐，她拿了一桶水，擦洗地板上的粉笔痕。

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正洗着，豪尔走进来。“工作、工作、工作！”边说边跨过苏菲，他看来有点奇怪。他的衣服仍旧是深黑色，但是头发已变回金色，在黑衣衬托下，显得白白的。苏菲斜睨他一眼，想到咒语。豪尔或许也在想同一件事吧？他从洗手槽里拿起骷髅头，一手拿着，凄惨地说：“天哪，可怜的优丽克！他听到美人鱼的声音，因此知道丹麦那个国家里有东西在腐败。我得了一个怎么也好不了的感冒，幸亏我非常不诚实，这一点我一定要坚持。”他可怜隰隰地咳着，但是他的感冒已经好了很多，咳嗽声听起来不怎么有说服力。（注：优丽克为莎士比亚名剧《哈姆雷特》中著名的宫廷弄臣。）

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苏菲跟狗人交换了一眼。狗人正看着她，表情跟豪尔一样悲惨。“你应该回到乐蒂身边的，”她喃喃地说道：“你到底哪根筋不对劲？”然后她问豪尔：“跟安歌丽雅小姐进行得不顺利吗？”

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“坏透了。”豪尔说：“莉莉.安歌丽雅的心像是煮熟的石头。”他把骷髅放回洗手槽，然后扯开喉咙叫唤麦可：“吃饭！工作！”

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吃过早餐后，他们把储物柜里所有的东西都搬出来，然后麦可跟豪尔在柜子里侧边的墙上敲了一个洞。灰尘由柜子的门飞出，然后是奇怪的敲打声。最后，两个人齐声叫唤苏菲。苏菲应声过来，手里故意带支扫把。原来墙所在的地方有个供道，通向连结店铺与住家的阶梯。豪尔做势要她过去看店铺。店里空荡荡的，有回声。它的地板现在铺着和潘思德曼太太的大厅一样的黑色及白色方形的瓷砖。原来放帽子的架子上有一瓶蜡染的缎带玫瑰花，配上一小束丝绒的野樱草。苏菲知道他等着听她赞美，却故意什么也不说。

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“这些花是我在后面那间工厂找到的。”豪尔说：“来，到外面看看。”

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他打开通往街道的门，苏菲从小听到大的那个门铃叮当响起。苏菲蹒跚地走到清晨空荡的街道，店的前头新近才被漆过，是绿色及黄色，窗上的花体字写着：建肯鲜花店，每日供应鲜花。

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“你对普通名字的观感改变啦？”苏菲问。

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“纯为了伪装罢了。我还是比较喜欢围龙那个名字。”

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“鲜花要从哪里来？”苏菲问。“总不能招牌这样写，卖的确实由帽子上取下来的缎带玫瑰吧？”

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“等着瞧！”豪尔说着，带领大家回到店里。

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他们穿过店铺，走到那个苏菲打出以来就知道的后院。它现在只剩一半大小，因为豪尔移动城堡的院子将它占去一半。苏菲抬眼，眼光越过豪尔院子的砖墙，看着自己的旧宅。房子看起来很奇怪，因为多了一个属于豪尔卧室的新窗子。而当苏菲想到，由那窗子望出去所看到的，并非她现在所见的景象时，那感觉就更怪异了。她可以看到自己旧寝室的窗子，在店铺上方，但这也教她觉得怪怪的，因为现在似乎没办法上去了。苏菲跟豪尔再度走进屋里，走上楼梯到储物柜。她突然意识到，自己一直都板着脸。见到自己的老房子变成这样，让她心中乱成一团。“我觉得一切都蛮不错。”她说。

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“是吗？”豪尔冷冷地说，他的感情受伤了。苏菲想，他是多么希望别人能感激他所做的一切啊。她叹了口气。豪尔走到门前，将门柄转到紫色朝下。但是，苏菲又想，她好象从未夸奖过豪尔或者卡西法，为什么这次就要例外？

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门开了，开门花朵的高大树丛在眼前缓缓飘过，然后停住，以便苏菲可以爬上去采花。在树丛与树丛间，长长的、明亮的绿草径通往四面八方。豪尔跟苏菲选最近的一条路走，城堡在后头跟着，不时扫落沿路的花瓣。虽然城堡高高黑黑的，样子怪怪的，而且边走还边从这或那的角楼里吹出奇怪的烟，但在这个地方却一点也不显得不搭调。苏菲知道，那时因为魔法在这里作用着，所以承包才显得协调。

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空气闷热潮湿，满载着成千成百的花香。苏菲差点要说，这味道让她联想到豪尔洗完澡后的浴室，但她把话硬生生吞了回去。这地方实在太美妙了！在开满紫的、红的、白的花朵的树丛之间，潮湿的草地上也满是小话：只有三片花瓣的粉红花、巨大的三色堇、野生的草夹竹桃、各色的羽扇花、橘色水仙、高高的白水仙、鸢尾花及数不尽的其他种花。有花朵到足以做帽饰的爬藤、矢车菊、樱粟花，以及形状奇特或叶子颜色怪异的植物。虽然这与苏菲梦想要拥有像菲菲克丝太太的花园很不相同，但她忘了一切的不快，心情变得非常好。

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“知道了吧，”豪尔挥一下手，惊起数百只正在一丛黄色玫瑰上进食的蓝蝴蝶。“我们可以每天早晨来这里剪一大堆花，拿到马克奇平去卖，上面都还沾着露珠呢。”

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在那条绿色小径的尽头，草地变得柔软，树丛下开有大片的兰花。豪尔和苏菲来到一个开满莲花的温泉水塘前面，城堡斜斜飞开，绕过水塘，飘到另一条铺满不同花朵的草径。

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“你自己独自前来时，记得一定要带拐杖来勘探地面。”豪尔说：“这儿有许多涌泉和泥沼。此外，别超过那个地方。”

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他指向东南方，那里，太阳像雾气中一面刺眼的白色圆盘。“那边就是荒地了，很热、很荒凉，而且有女巫。”

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“是谁在荒地边缘种花的？”苏菲问。

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“苏利曼巫师一年前开始的。”豪尔说，转身面向城堡。“我想他的原意是要让荒地开满花，让女巫无法立足。他由地下换来温泉，开始将计划付诸实行。刚开始一切进行得很顺利，后来就被女巫发现了。”

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“潘思德曼太太提到其他的名字，”苏菲说：“他跟你来自同一个地方，对不对？”

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“算是吧。”豪尔说：“我从未跟他见过面。几个月后我来这里，试着将计划完成，就是这样才遇见女巫的，她反对在这儿种花。”

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“为什么？”苏菲问。

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城堡在等他们。“她喜欢当自己是一朵花，”豪尔边说边开门：“一朵孤零零，盛开在荒地的兰花，真是蛮可怜的。”

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苏菲跟着和翱尔进入城堡前，又看了群花一眼，光是玫瑰就有数千朵之多。“女巫不会知道你在这里吗？”

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“我试着做她最出其不意的事。”豪尔回答。

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“那你会不会试着去找贾斯丁王子？”苏菲问他，但是豪尔又借故逃掉了，他快速跑过储物柜，大声呼唤麦可。

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Howl set to work as hard as if he had just had a week’s rest. If Sophie had not seen him fight a grueling magic battle an hour ago, she would never have believed it. He and Michael dashed about, calling measurements to one another and chalking strange signs in the places where they had earlier put up metal brackets. They seemed to have chalk on every corner, including the backyard. Sophie’s cubbyhole under the stairs and the odd-shaped place in the bathroom ceiling gave them quite a bit of trouble. Sophie and the dog-man were pushed this way and that, and then pushed aside completely so that Michael could crawl about chalking a five-pointed star inside a circle on the floor.

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Michael had done this and was brushing dust and chalk off his knees when Howl came racing in with patches of whitewash all over his black clothes. Sophie and the dog-man were pushed aside again so that Howl could crawl about writing signs in and around both star and circle. Sophie and the dog-man went to sit on the stairs. The dog-man was shivering. This did not seem to be magic he liked.

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Howl and Michael raced out into the yard. Howl raced back. “Sophie!” he shouted. “Quickly! What are we going to sell in that shop?”

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“Flowers,” Sophie said, thinking of Mrs. Fairfax again.

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“Perfect,” said Howl, and hurried over to the door with a pot of paint and a small brush. He dipped the brush in the pot and carefully painted the blue blob yellow. He dipped again. This time the brush came out purple. He painted the green blob with it. At the third dip the paint was orange, and the orange went over the red blob. Howl did not touch the black blob. He turned away, and the end of his sleeve went into the paint pot along with the brush. “Botheration!” said Howl, dragging it out. The trailing tip of the sleeve was all colors of the rainbow. Howl shook it, and it was black again.

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“Which suit is that really?” Sophie asked.

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“I’ve forgotten. Don’t interrupt. The difficult part is just coming up,” Howl said, rushing the paint pot back to the bench. He picked up a small jar of powder. “Michael! Where’s the silver shovel?”

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Michael raced in from the yard with a big, gleaming spade. The handle was wood, but the blade did seem to be solid silver. “All set out there!” he said.

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Howl rested the shovel on his knee in order to chalk a sign on both handle and blade. He sprinkled red powder from the jar on it. He put a pinch of the same grains carefully in each point of the star and tipped all the rest into the middle. “Stand clear, Michael,” he said. “Everyone stay clear. Are you ready, Calcifer?”

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Calcifer emerged from between his logs in a long thread of blue flame. “As ready as I shall ever be,” he said. “You know this could kill me, don’t you?”

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“Look on the bright side,” said Howl. “It could be me it kills. Hold on tight. One, two, three.” He dug the shovel into the grate, very steadily and slowly, keeping it level with the bars. For a second he juggled it gently to get it under Calcifer. Then, even more steadily and gently, he raised it. Michael was quite obviously holding his breath. “Done it!” said Howl. Logs toppled sideways. They did not seem to be burning. Howl stood up and turned round, carrying Calcifer on the shovel.

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The room filled with smoke. The dog-man whined and shivered. Howl coughed. He had a little trouble holding the shovel steady. Sophie’s eyes were watering and it was hard to see clearly, but, as far as she could tell, Calcifer-just as he has said to her-did not have feet, or legs either. He was a long, pointed blue face rooted in a faintly glowing black lump. The black lump had a dent in the front of it, which suggested at first sight that Calcifer was kneeling on tiny, folded legs. But Sophie saw that was not so when the lump rocked slightly, showing it was rounded underneath. Calcifer obviously felt terribly unsafe. His orange eyes were round with fear, and he kept shooting feeble arm-shaped flames out on either side, in a useless attempt to take hold of the sides of the shovel.

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“Won’t be long!” Howl choked, trying to be soothing. But he had to shut his mouth hard and stand for a moment trying not to cough. The shovel wobbled and Calcifer looked terrified. Howl recovered. He took a long, careful step into the chalked circle, and then another into the center of the five-pointed star. There, holding the shovel out level, he turned slowly round, one complete turn, and Calcifer turned with him, sky-blue and staring with panic.

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It felt as if the whole room turned with them. The dog-man crouched close to Sophie. Michael staggered. Sophie felt as if their piece of the world had come loose and was swinging and jigging round in a circle, sickeningly. She did not blame Calcifer for looking so frightened. Everything was still swinging and swaying as Howl took the same careful steps out of the star and out of the circle. He knelt down by the hearth and, with enormous care, slid Calcifer back into the grate and packed the logs back round him. Calcifer flopped green flames uppermost. Howl leaned on the shovel and coughed.

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The room rocked and settled. For a few instants, while the smoke still hung everywhere, Sophie saw to her amazement the well-known outlines of the parlor in the house where she had been born. She knew it even though its floor was bare boards and there were no pictures on the wall. The castle room seemed to wriggle itself into place inside the parlor, pushing it out here, pulling it in there, bringing the ceiling down to match its own beamed ceiling, until the two melted together and became the castle room again, except perhaps now bit higher and squarer than it had been.

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“Have you done it, Calcifer?” coughed Howl.

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“I think so,” Calcifer said, rising up the chimney. He looked none the worse for his ride on the shovel. “You’d better check me, though.”

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Howl helped himself up on the shovel and opened the door with the yellow blob downward. Outside was the street in Market Chipping that Sophie had known all her life. People she knew were walking past in the evening, taking a stroll before supper, the way a lot of people did on summer. Howl nodded at Calcifer, shut the door, turned the knob orange-down, and opened it again.

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A wide, weedy drive wound away from the door now, among clumps of trees most picturesquely lit sideways by the low sun. In the distance stood a grand stone gateway with statues on it. “Where is this?” said Howl.

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“An empty mansion at the end of the valley,” Calcifer said rather defensively. “It’s the nice house you told me to find. It’s quite fine.”

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“I’m sure it is,” Howl said. “I simply hope the real owners won’t object.” He shut the door and turned the knob round to purple-down. “Now for the moving castle,” he said as he opened it again.

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It was nearly dusk out there. A warm wind full of different scents blew in. Sophie saw a bank of dark leaves drift by, loaded with big purple flowers among the leaves. It spun slowly away and its place was taken by a stand of dim white lilies and a glimpse of sunset on water beyond. The smell was so heavenly that Sophie was halfway across the room before she was aware.

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“No, your long nose stays out of there until tomorrow,” Howl said, and he shut the door with a snap. “That part’s right on the edge of the Waste. Well done, Calcifer. Perfect. A nice house and lots of flowers, as ordered.” He flung the shovel down and went to bed. And he must have been tired. There were no groans, no shouts, and almost no coughing.

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Sophie and Michael were tired too. Michael flopped into the chair and sat stroking the dog-man, staring. Sophie perched on the stool, feeling strange. They had moved. It felt the same, but different, quite confusingly. And why was the moving castle now on the edge of the Waste? Was it the curse pulling Howl toward the Witch? Or had Howl slithered out so hard that he had come out right behind himself and turned out what most people would call honest?

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Sophie looked at Michael to see what he thought. Michael was asleep, and so was the dog-man. Sophie looked at Calcifer instead, sleepily flickering among rosy logs with his orange eyes almost shut. She thought of Calcifer pulsing almost white, with white eyes, and then of Calcifer staring anxiously as he wobbled on the shovel. He reminded her of something. The whole shape of him did.

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“Calcifer,” she said, “were you ever a falling star?”

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Calcifer opened one orange eye at her. “Of course,” he said. “I can talk about that if you know. The contract allows me to.”

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“And Howl caught you?” said Sophie.

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“Five years ago,” said Calcifer, “out on Porthaven Marshes, just after he set up as Jenkin the Sorcerer. He chased me in seven-league boots. I was terrified of him. I was terrified anyway, because when you fall you know you’re going to die. I’d have done anything rather than die. When Howl offered to keep me alive the way humans stay alive, I suggested a contract on the spot. Neither of us knew what we were getting into. I was grateful, and Howl only offered because he was sorry for me.”

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“Just like Michael,” said Sophie.

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“What’s that?” Michael said, waking up. “Sophie, I wish we weren’t right on the edge of the Waste. I didn’t know we would be. I don’t feel safe.”

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“Nobody’s safe in a wizard’s house,” Calcifer said feelingly.

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Next morning the door was set to black-knob down and, to Sophie’s great annoyance, it would not open at any setting. She wanted to see those flowers, Witch or no Witch. So she took out her impatience by fetching a bucket of water and scrubbing the chalked signs off the floor.

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Howl came in while she was doing it. “Work, work, work,” he said, stepping over Sophie as she scrubbed. He looked a little strange. His suit was still dense black, but he had turned his hair fair again. It looked white against the black. Sophie glanced at him and thought of the curse. Howl may have been thinking of it too. He picked the skull out of the sink and held it in one hand, mournfully. “Alas, poor Yorick!” he said. “She heard mermaids, so it follows that there is something rotten in the state of Denmark. I have caught an everlasting cold, but luckily I am terribly dishonest. I cling to that.” He coughed pathetically. But his cold was getting better and it did not sound very convincing.

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Sophie exchanged looks with the dog-man, who was sitting watching her, looking as doleful as Howl. “You should go back to Lettie,” she murmured. “What’s the matter?” she said to Howl. “Miss Angorian not going well?”

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“Dreadfully,” said Howl. “Lily Angorian has a heart like a boiled stone.” He put the skull back in the sink and shouted for Michael. “Food! Work!” he yelled.

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After breakfast they took everything out of the broom cupboard. Then Michael and Howl knocked a hole in the side wall of it. Dust flew out of the cupboard door and strange thumpings occurred. At last they both shouted for Sophie. Sophie came, meaningly carrying a broom. And there was an archway where the wall had been, leading to the steps that had always connected the shop and the house. Howl beckoned her to come and look at the shop. It was empty and echoing. Its floor was now tiled in black and white squares, like Mrs. Pentstemmon’s hall, and the shelves which had once held hats had a vase of waxed-silk roses and a small posy of velvet cowslips on them. Sophie realized she was expected to admire it, so she managed not to say anything.

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“I found the flowers in the workshed out at the back,” said Howl. “Come and look at the outside.”

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He opened the door into the street, and the same shop bell tinkled that Sophie had heard all her life. Sophie hobbled out into the empty early-morning street. The shop front had been newly painted green and yellow. Curly letters over the window said: H. JENKINS FRESH FLOWERS DAILY.

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“Changed your mind about common names, haven’t you?” said Sophie.

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They went through and out into the yard Sophie had known all her life. It was only half the size now, because Howl’s yard from the moving castle took up one side of it. Sophie looked up beyond the brick walls of Howl’s yard to her own old house. It looked rather odd because of the new window in it that belonged to Howl’s bedroom, and it made Sophie feel odder still when she realized that Howl’s window did not look out onto the things she saw now. She could see the window of her own old bedroom, up above the shop. That made her feel odd too, because there did not seem to be any way to get up into it now.

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As Sophie hobbled after Howl indoors again and up the stairs to the broom cupboard, she realized she was being very gruff. Seeing her own old home this way was giving her fearsome mixed feelings. “I think it’s all very nice,” she said.

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