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哈尔的移动城堡|Howl’s Moving Castle

第3章黑色的城堡

属类： 双语小说 【分类】魔幻小说 -[作者: 黛安娜-W-琼斯] 阅读：[6062]
Chapter 3 Sophie enters into a castle and a bargain
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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面对着苏菲的黑墙有一扇大大的黑门，苏菲朝着这扇门走去，脚步蹒跚而轻快。城堡近看更丑，不成比例的高，样子也很不规则。在亦见深沉的的暮色中，可以看出它是由巨大的、类似木炭、形状大小各异的黑色块壮物建成。这些建材似乎会呼吸，苏菲走得越近越能感受到它们似乎会呼出冷气，但她一点也不觉得害怕，她只一心一意想着椅子及温暖的炉旁。她对着门热切地伸出手。

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然而她的手却接近不了那扇门！门外一尺处似乎有另一扇无形的门将她的手挡住。苏菲的手不耐地试探着，但是毫无用处。接着，她改用拐杖去戳。这扇无形的门似乎覆盖住整扇里门，上至苏菲的拐杖所能抵达的高度，下至底下门缝里露出来的石楠花，都在它的防护范围之内。

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“开门！”苏菲对着它大叫。

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但是门一点也不甩她。

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“好吧，”她说：“看来我只好走后门了。”她拐着脚往城堡左边的角落走去，不只因为那儿离她最近，也因为那样走的是下坡路。但是她却绕不过去。

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她才走到和那角落黑色基石平行的地方，就又被无形的墙给挡住了。那一刹那，苏菲忍不住骂了一句她由玛莎那儿学来的，不管老妇或年轻女子都不该知道的话。然后拄着拐杖，逆时针而行，往城堡的右角走去。那儿居然没有阻碍！她成功地转过那个角落，急急对着城堡另一边，她看到的第二扇大黑门走去。

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但是那扇门外头同样设了屏障。

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苏菲对它怒目而视：“这未免太不友善了！”

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黑烟大量地由城垛往下冒，呛得苏菲直咳嗽。这下子她真是气到了。她又老、又瘦弱、不仅寒冷，还全身酸痛。夜已降临，这城堡却只管坐在那儿对着她吹烟。“我非得跟那个豪尔好好谈一谈！”她边咕哝着边气呼呼地往下一个边角走去。咦！这儿也没有障碍？显然，只要逆时针走就对了。然后她看到了，在那片城墙上，稍稍靠着侧边的，是第三扇门。这一扇门不仅小了许多，也较为寒酸。

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“总算给我找到后门了！”苏菲说。

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但是苏菲才走近那扇黑门，整座城堡突然又开始动了起来。地也跟着震动。城墙摇晃着，发出吱吱的声音，门也开始由她跟前横向移开。

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“不准走！”苏菲大叫。她追着门跑，拿拐杖用力敲，同时大叫：“开门！”

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门突然向内打开，但是城堡仍然横向着转开。苏菲使劲拐着脚追赶，好不容易才一脚踩上门槛。城堡加速要离开这个崎岖不平的山坡地，门四周的黑块晃动着，发出嘎扎嘎扎的声音。苏菲跟着又跳又爬，又爬又跳。她觉得很奇怪的倒不是那城堡看来倾向一边，而是它居然不会当场解体。

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“这样对待建筑物未免太逊了吧！”好不容易爬到门里，苏菲边喘边抱怨。她将拐杖扔在一边，两手抓紧开着的门，以免被弹震出去。

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当她气息终于梢能平顺时，她才注意到自己身前站着一个人。那人也抓着门。他比苏菲高一个头，但苏菲看得出他还诗歌少年，不过比玛莎大些。看来他似乎想将门关起来，将苏菲推离他身后温暖、有灯光、屋梁低低的房间，让她再度回到外头的黑夜里去。

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“少年，想赶我出去？有胆量你就给我试试看！”她嘶声地说。

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“我没有啊！可是你不能一直让门开着。”他抗议道：“你要什么？”

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苏菲环目审视她所能看到的他身后的房间。偶一些可能是巫术专用的物件——长串的洋葱、成束的草药以及长长的根茎，由屋梁上垂挂下来。另有一些则绝对是巫师用的东西：包着皮革的书、形状怪异的瓶瓶罐罐，还有一个老旧褐色、咧笑的骷髅头。在男孩身体另一边的，则是一个燃着小火的壁炉。由外头那些烟的分量看来，这个火未免太小了。不过，这显然只是城堡后面的一个小房间而已。最重要的是，对苏菲而言，这火正烧到最完美的阶段——散发出明亮的玫瑰色，木头上还有小小的蓝色火舌舞动着。而在壁炉旁边，就在那最温暖的位置上，摆着一张衬有椅垫的低脚椅子。

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苏菲将那男孩一把推开，扑向椅子。“天哪，太幸福了！”她喊着，舒舒服服地坐了上去。实在超幸福！火的温暖缓和了她身上的疼痛，椅子则让她的背得到支撑。

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这时要是有人胆敢将她赶出去，他们非得诉诸最极端、最最厉害的魔法才能办到。

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男孩把门关起来，然后将苏菲的拐杖拣起来，很客气地将它靠在椅子旁边，乱诡异的！“你跟豪尔巫师说，”她吩咐那男孩：“这城堡再这样飞下去，铁定会四分五裂。”

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“这城堡被下过咒，不会裂开的。”男孩说：“而且，豪尔巫师现在不在家。”

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对苏菲而言，这可是好消息。“他什么时候回来？”她问得有点紧张。

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“看情形恐怕要到明天早上了。”男孩回答。“你找他什么事？我可以帮得上忙吗？我是他的学徒麦可。”

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再没有比这更棒的消息了！“恐怕只有豪尔巫师可以帮得上我的忙。”苏菲的回答来得又快又坚决，这样的回答其实并不假。“你不介意的话，我就在这儿等他。”

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但麦可显然很介意，他很无助地在她身边徘徊。为了让他明白她绝不会被一个小小的学徒赶出门去，她闭目假寐，喃喃地吩咐道：“告诉他我叫苏菲，”说完又加上一句：“老苏菲。”这样听起来比较安全些。

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“你搞不好得等上一整夜。”麦可说。但这正是苏菲想要的，因此她假装没听到。事实上，她几乎快睡着了，开始打盹。她实在是走得太累了！过了一会，麦可只好放弃，回去工作台就着灯光继续做他未完成的工作。

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苏菲朦朦胧胧地想着：这一整夜终于有栖身之处了。虽然似乎用了点不太光明的手段，但是既然豪尔是个邪恶的坏蛋，骗骗他也没什么不对。何况，她打算在豪尔回来之前就早早开溜的。

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她微睁着双眼偷偷大量这个学徒，真是令人惊奇、善良有体的好孩子！她这样粗鲁地强闯进来，他却毫不抱怨。也许豪尔使了手段将他变成卑屈的奴才？但他看来一点也不卑下。

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他个儿高高的，黑皮肤，脸长得非常开朗，穿着也十分整洁。事实上，若非苏菲亲眼看到，他正由一个扭曲的瓶子里倒一种绿色液体到另一个装有黑色粉的弯曲玻璃瓶里的话，她绝对会当他是富农的儿子。真是奇怪的感觉！

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不过，只要是和豪尔巫师沾上边的事物，多少也都会透着古怪吧？苏菲想着。而这个厨房，或者工作间，是多么舒适而平静啊！她就这样沉沉地睡去，并且打起呼来。工作台突然闪现的火光，闷闷的撞击声，以及麦可硬生生吞下去、骂了一半的诅咒声，都未能将她吵醒。

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当麦可吸吮着烫伤的手指，将魔咒收起来，打开橱柜拿面包和乳酪当消夜时，她也没有醒来。当麦可撞倒她的拐杖，发出‘锵’一声轻响；以及横过她的身体为壁炉添加薪柴时，她还是照睡无误。麦可看着她张开的嘴巴，跟炉火说：“她的牙齿全都好好的，应该不会是荒地女巫吧？”

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“如果她是的话，我就不会放她进来了。”炉火回嘴道。

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麦可耸耸肩，很有礼貌地将苏菲的拐杖拣起来。他以同样客气的态度为壁炉添上一根薪柴，然后就到上头某处就寝。

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半夜十分，苏菲被鼾声吵醒。她猛地跳起来，当她发现发出鼾声的原来是自己时，实在很生气。她觉得自己好象才打盹、小睡了几秒钟光景，麦可就不见了，还把灯也拿走。无疑的，那是巫师学徒第一星期内就要学会的工作。他还把炉火弄得很小。炉火发出令人讨厌的嘶嘶声及劈啪声。

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一阵冷风对着苏菲的背吹来，提醒苏菲自己是在巫师的城堡里，而且，就在她身边不远处的工作台上，有颗骷髅头可以清楚证明这一点。

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她颤抖着，转动她僵硬的老脖子，但是后头只有一片黑暗。“再亮点不好吗？”她自言自语，沙哑的声音甚是微弱，与壁炉里的燃火声响相去无几。苏菲很惊讶，她还以为声音透过城堡的拱顶造成回声呢！

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她身旁就有一篮木头，她伸手取过一根薪柴，加到火上，引起一阵的蓝的火花直飞上烟囱。她又加了一根，然后靠回椅子上，间或紧张地回望一下背后，看看那被飞舞的紫蓝色炉火映照着的、光滑的褐色骷髅头。这房间很小，只有苏菲与这骷髅头为伴。

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“它两脚都到坟墓里去了，我才进去了一半。”她安慰自己，然后转过来面对炉火，火现在烧成蓝色和绿色的火焰。“一定是木头里有盐。”她咕哝着，找了一个更舒服的姿势躺好，把关节突兀的脚放在壁炉挡板上，头则顶着椅垫的一角，由那个角度她可以看着火焰的颜色。

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看着看着，她开始无意识地想着明天早上该做些什么，但是，她的注意力不知不觉间被引开——她好象看到火焰里有个脸孔。“好象是张瘦瘦的蓝脸，”她喃喃地说道：“很瘦很长，有只瘦瘦的蓝鼻子；上头那些卷卷的、飞舞着的绿色火焰，绝对是你的头发。如果豪尔回来后我还是不离开呢？巫师不是应该会解除咒语吗？啊——靠近底下的那些紫色火焰是你的嘴巴吧！我说朋友，你的牙齿还真是恐怖！那两团绿火是眉毛吧……”说也奇怪，火里就那么两撮橘色的火焰，却正好位在绿色的眉毛下面，仿佛两只眼睛似的，中间还各有小小的紫色光点，苏菲可以想象那就是它的瞳孔，正对着她瞧。

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“话有说回来，”苏菲继续自语：“若咒语解除了，搞不好我还来不及逃跑，心就会被吃掉。”

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“你不想心被吃掉吗？”火问她。

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没错！真的是火在说话耶！听到声音之际，苏菲同时看到它紫色的嘴在动。它的声音几乎和她一样沙哑，并且充斥着燃木那种劈劈啪啪及哭诉呻吟的声音。

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“当然不想！”苏菲答道。“你是什么玩意儿？”

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“火魔。”紫色的嘴巴回道，声音中哭调多过劈啪声。“我被契约绑死在这个壁炉里，哪儿也去不成。”说完声音又转趋轻快，发出劈啪声：“你呢？你又是什么东东？我看得出来你被人下了咒语。”

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苏菲整个人一下清醒过来，叫道：“你看得出来？你能解除它吗？”

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火静静地晃动、燃烧着，摇晃的蓝色脸颊上橘色的眼睛对着苏菲上下打量。“这是一个很强的咒语。”它终于开口说话。“感觉像是荒地女巫下的咒。”

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“没错。”苏菲说。

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“但是好象还不只这样，”火魔嘎声说：“我察觉到这是个双重咒。我想，除非对方已经知情，否则你也没办法告诉他们。”它又盯着苏菲瞧了好一阵子才说：“我得研究看看。”

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“得研究多久？”苏菲问。

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“恐怕得花上一段时间，”火魔回答。接着声音转柔，带点劝说的味道，连火焰也变的柔柔的：“跟我来个交易如何？若你能帮我挣脱这个契约，我就帮你解除咒语。”

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苏菲心怀戒慎地看着火魔瘦削的蓝脸。它提这个建议时，脸上明显露出狡诈的神情。所有她读过的书都说，跟魔类交易是最最危险的事。而眼前这位，无疑的，看起来最是邪恶，尤其那口紫色的长牙！

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“你确定你说的都是实话？”她问道。

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“不全是实话。”它承认。“但是如果我判断得没错的话，难道你想让寿命平白缩短六十年？”

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这实在太可怕了！到目前为止，苏菲一直都试着不去想这件事。但被它这么一说，也不得不想办法采取行动。“你说的那个契约，是跟豪尔巫师订的吗？”

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“当然了，”它的声音有开始带着呜咽：“我被局限在这个壁炉里，活动范围不超过一尺。我被迫做这里大部分的魔法工作，我得管好城堡，不仅负责让它移动，还得制造特殊效果将人们吓跑，还有许多许多其他的事啦。豪尔这家伙实在是乱没良心！”

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豪尔没良心，这点不用它说，苏菲也早就知道了。但话又说回来，这火魔搞不好也好不到哪里去。“你在这契约中难道就没捞到半点好处？”她问道。

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“没半点好处的话就不会签约了。”火魔回道，火焰悲伤地摇晃着。“可是当初如果我知道事情会变成这样，就不会签了！我真是被剥削得厉害。”

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虽然苏菲提醒自己要谨慎小心，却还是忍不住对它深表同情。想到自己——关在家里做帽子做得要死，芬妮却整天在外头玩耍。“好吧！契约的内容是什么？我怎样才能破除它？”

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火魔的蓝脸展开一个热切的紫色咧笑。“你同意跟我交易？”

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“如果你同意帮我解开我身上的魔咒的话。”苏菲说。但不知怎的，心头却觉得沉甸甸地，感觉仿佛是把性命交托了出去。

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“一言为定！”火魔大叫，长脸高兴地跃上烟囱。“你解除我的契约的同时，我就帮你解开你的咒语。”

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“那么，告诉我如何解除你的契约？”苏菲问它。

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橘色眼睛对着她一闪一闪，然后转了开去。“我不能说。契约的一部分规定，我跟豪尔巫师两人都不准说出契约的主要内容。”

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苏菲发现她被设计了，她恨恨地告诉火魔：“这样的话，你就在这壁炉里坐着等死吧！”

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火魔发现她是认真的，劈啪地叫道：“别急嘛！如果你仔细观察并倾听的话，应该找得出来的。拜托啦！这个契约长期下来对我们两人都毫无好处。我真的会守信用的！我会被卡死在这个地方就足以证明我是守信用的啊！”

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它的声音非常诚恳，火焰急得在木头上跳来跳去，苏菲再度觉得它真的很让人同情。

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“但是如果我必须借由观察和倾听来找出答案的话，我就必须待在豪尔的城堡里了。”苏菲跟它抗议。

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“大不了一个月啦！而且，我也必须研究那下在你身上的咒语。”火魔恳求道。

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“那我也得有借口留下来呀！”苏菲说。

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“借口想就有啦。豪尔那家伙在很多事上都很无能的。事实上，”它发出恶毒的嘶嘶声：“他泰半时间都因为过分专注于自身的事务，连明摆在眼前的事都会视而不见。只要你同意留下来，我们可以一起骗他。”

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“好吧，”苏菲说：“我就留下来吧。现在，还得赶快想借口。”

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火魔思索的时候，她舒舒服服地坐回椅子上。火魔很认真在想，发出劈劈啪啪明灭不定的喃喃声，这让苏菲想起自己在前来这里的途中和拐杖说话的情形。它想得那样努力而且快乐，火苗高高窜起，熊熊吼着。

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苏菲又开始打盹。她隐约记得火魔提了一些建议，她记得自己曾摇头否决假装成豪尔失联甚久的姨婆，还有其他一两桩更夸张的建议，再下来她就没啥印象了。最后，火魔安静下来，唱起一首闪着小火苗的柔和小曲。用的是苏菲不曾听过的一种语言，至少她一开始是这么认为的，直到她清楚听到‘炖锅’多次被提及——这真是一只令人昏昏欲睡的歌呀。

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苏菲沉沉睡去，心中隐隐有一丝疑惑：自己是否被下了咒或者受到鼓惑？但她并不特别担心。反正，再不多久她就能由咒语中解放出来了……

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There was a large black door in the black wall facing Sophie and she made for that, hobbling briskly. The castle was uglier that ever close to. It was far too tall for its height and not a very regular shape. As far as Sophie could see in the growing darkness, it as built of huge black blocks, like coal, and, like coal, these blocks were all different shapes and sizes. Chill breathed off these blocks as she got closer, but that failed to frighten Sophie at all. She just thought of chairs and firesides and stretched her hand out eagerly to the door.

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Her hand could not come near it. Some invisible wall stopped her hand about a foot from the door. Sophie prodded at it with an irritable finger. When that made no difference, she prodded with her stick. The wall seemed to be all over the door from as high as her stick could reach, and right down to the heather sticking out from under the doorstep.

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“Open up!” Sophie cackled at it.

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That made no difference to the wall.

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“Very well,” Sophie said. “I’ll find your back door.” She hobbled off the lefthand corner of the castle, that being both the nearest and slightly downhill. But she could not get around the corner. The invisible wall stopped her again as soon as she was level with the irregular black cornerstones. At this, Sophie said a word she had learned from Martha, that neither old ladies nor young girls are supposed to know, and stumped uphill and anti-clockwise to the castle’s righthand corner. There was no barrier there. She turned that corner and came hobbling eagerly towards the second big black door in the middle of that side of the castle.

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There was a barrier over that door too.

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Sophie glowered at it. “I call that very unwelcoming!” she said.

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Black smoke blew down form the battlements in clouds. Sophie coughed. Now she was angry. She was old, frail, chilly, and aching all over. Night was coming on and the castle just sat and blew smoke at her. “I’ll speak to Howl about this!” she said, and set off fiercely to the next corner. There was not barrier there-evidently you had to go around the castle clockwise-but there, bit sideways in the next wall, was a third door. This one was much smaller and shabbier.

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“The back door at last!” Sophie said.

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The castle started to move again as Sophie got near the back door. The ground shook. The wall shuddered and creaked, and the door started to travel sideways from her.

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“Oh, no you don’t!” Sophie shouted. She ran after the door and hit it violently with her stick. “Open up!” she yelled.

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The door sprang open inward, still moving sideways. Sophie, by hobbling furiously, managed to get one foot up on its doorstep. Then she hopped and scrambled and hopped again, while the great black blocks round the door jolted and crunched as the castle gathered speed over the uneven hillside. Sophie did not wonder the castle had a lopsided look. The marvel was that it did not fall apart on the spot.

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“What a stupid way to treat a building!” she panted as she threw herself inside it. She had to drop her stick and hang on to the open door in order not to be jolted straight out again.

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When she began to get her breath, she realized there was a person standing in front of her, holding the door too. He was a head taller than Sophie, but she could see he was the merest child, only a little older than Martha. And he seemed to be trying to shut the door on her and push her out of the warm, lamplit, low-beamed room beyond him, into the night again.

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“Don’t you have the impudence to shut the door on me, my boy!” she said.

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“I wasn’t going to, but you’re keeping the door open,” he protested. “What do you want?”

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Sophie looked round at what she could see beyond the boy. There were a number of probably wizardly things hanging from the beams- strings of onions, bunches of herbs, and bundles of strange roots. There were also definitely wizardly things, like leather books, crooked bottles, and an old, brown, grinning human skull. On the other side of the boy was a fireplace with a small fire burning in the grate. It was a much smaller fire than all the smoke outside suggested, but then this was obviously only a back room in the castle. Much more important to Sophie, this fire had reached the glowing rosy stage, with little blue flames dancing on the logs, and placed beside it in the warmest position was a low chair with a cushion on it.

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Sophie pushed the boy aside and dived for that chair. “Ah! My fortune!” she said, settling herself comfortably into it. It was bliss. The fire warmed her aches and the chair supported her back and she knew that if anyone wanted to turn her out now, they were going to have to use extreme and violent magic to do it.

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The boy shut the door. Then he picked up Sophie’s stick and politely leaned it against the chair for her. Sophie realized that there was now no sign at all that the castle was moving across the hillside: not even the ghost of a rumble or the tiniest shaking. How odd! “Tell Wizard Howl,” she said to the boy, “that this castle’s going to come apart round his ears if it travels much further.”

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“The castle’s bespelled to hold together,” the boy said. “But I’m afraid Howl’s not here just at the moment.”

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This was good news to Sophie. “When will he be back?” she asked a little nervously.

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“Probably not till tomorrow now,” the boy said. “What do you want? Can I help you instead? I’m Howl’s apprentice, Michael.”

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This was better news than ever. “I’m afraid only the Wizard can possibly help me,” Sophie said quickly and firmly. It was probably true too. “I’ll wait, if you don’t mind.” It was clear Michael did mind. He hovered over her a little helplessly. To make it plain to him that she had no intention of being turned out by a mere boy apprentice, Sophie closed her eyes and pretended to go to sleep. “Tell him the name’s Sophie,” she murmured. “Old Sophie,” she added, to be on the safe side.

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“That will probably mean waiting all night,” Michael said. Since this was exactly what Sophie wanted, she pretended not to hear. In fact, she almost certainly fell into a swift doze. She was so tired from all that walking. After a moment Michael gave her up and went back to the work he was doing at the workbench where the lamp stood.

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So she would have a whole night’s shelter, even if it was on slightly false pretenses, Sophie thought drowsily. Since Howl was such a wicked man, it probably served him right to be imposed upon. But she intended to be well away from here by the time Howl came back and raised objections. She looked sleepily and slyly across at the apprentice. It rather surprised her to find him such a nice, polite boy. After all, she had forced her way in quite rudely and Michael had not complained at all. Perhaps Howl kept him in abject servility. But Michael did not look servile. He was a tall, dark boy with a pleasant, open sort of face, and he was most respectably dressed. In fact, if Sophie had not seen him at that moment carefully pouring green fluid out of a crooked flask onto black powder in a bent glass jar, she would have taken him for the son of a prosperous farmer. How odd!

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Still, things were bound to be odd where wizards were concerned, Sophie thought. And this kitchen, or workshop, was beautifully cozy and very peaceful. Sophie went properly to sleep and snored. She did not wake up when there came a flash and a muted bang form the workbench, followed by a hurriedly bitten-off swear word from Michael. She did not wake when Michael, sucking his burned fingers, put the spell aside for the night and fetched bread and cheese out of the closet. She did not stir when Michael knocked her stick down with a clatter, reaching over her for a log to put on the fire, or when Michael, looking down into Sophie’s open mouth, remarked to the fireplace, “She’s got all her teeth. She’s not the Witch of the Waste, is she?”

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“I wouldn’t have let her come in if she was,” the fireplace retorted.

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Michael shrugged and picked Sophie’s stick politely up again.

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Then he put a log on the fire with equal politeness and went away to bed somewhere overhead.

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In the middle of the night Sophie was woken by someone snoring. She jumped upright, rather irritated to discover that she was the one who had been snoring. It seemed to her that she had only dropped off for a second or so, but Michael seemed to have vanished in those seconds, taking the light with him. No doubt a wizard’s apprentice learned to do that kind of thing in his first week. And he had left the fire very low. It was giving out irritating hissings and poppings. A cold draft blew on Sophie’s back. Sophie recalled that she was in a wizard’s castle, and also, with unpleasant distinctness, that there was a human skull on a workbench somewhere behind her.

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She shivered and cranked her stiff old neck around, but there was only darkness behind her. “Let’s have a bit more light, shall we?” she said. Her cracked voice seemed to make no more noise than the crackling of the fire. Sophie was surprised. She had expected it to echo through the vaults of the castle. Still, there was a basket of logs beside her. She stretched out a creaking arm and heaved a log on the fire, which sent a spray of green and blue sparks flying through the chimney. She heaved on a second log and sat back, not without a nervous look or so behind her, where the blue-purple light form the fire was dancing over the polished brown bone of the skull. The room was quite small. There was no one in it but Sophie and the skull.

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“He’s got both feet in the grave and I’ve only got one,” she consoled herself. She turned back to the fire, which was now flaring up into blue and green flames. “Must be salt in that wood,” Sophie murmured. She settled herself more comfortably, putting her knobby feet on the fender and her head into a corner of the chair, where she could stare into the colored flames, and began dreamily considering what she ought to do in the morning. But she was sidetracked a little by imagining a face in the flames. “It would be a thin blue face,” she murmured, “very long and thin, with a thin blue nose. But those curly green flames on top are most definitely your hair. Suppose I didn’t go until Howl gets back? Wizards can lift spells, I suppose. And those purple flames near the bottom make the mouth- you have savage teeth, my friend. You have two green tufts of flame for eyebrows…” Curiously enough, the only orange flames in the fire were under the green eyebrow flames, just like eyes, and they each had a little purple glint in the middle that Sophie could almost imagine was looking at her, like the pupil of an eye. “On the other hand,” Sophie continued, looking into the orange flames, “if the spell was off, I’d have my heart eaten before I could turn around.”

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“Don’t you want your heart eaten?” asked the fire.

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It was definitely the fire that spoke. Sophie saw its purple mouth move as the words came. Its voice was nearly as cracked as her own, full of the spitting and whining of burning wood. “Naturally I don’t,” Sophie answered. “What are you?”

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“A fire demon,” answered the purple mouth. There was more whine than spit to its voice as it said, “I’m bound to this hearth by contract. I can’t move from this spot.” Then its voice became brisk and crackling. “And what are you?” it asked. “I can see you’re under a spell.”

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This roused Sophie from her dreamlike state. “You see!” she exclaimed. “Can you take the spell off?”

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There was a poppling, blazing silence while the orange eyes in the demon’s wavering blue face traveled up and down Sophie. “it’s a strong spell,” it said at length. “It feels like one of the Witch of the Waste’s to me.”

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“It is,” said Sophie.

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“But it seems more than that,” crackled the demon. “I detect two layers. And of course you won’t be able to tell anyone about it unless they know already.” It gazed at Sophie a moment longer. “I shall have to study it,” it said.

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“How long will that take?” Sophie asked.

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“It may take a while,” said the demon. And it added in a soft persuasive flicker, “How about making a bargain with me? I’ll break your spell if you agree to break this contract I’m under.”

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Sophie looked warily at the demon’s thin blue face. It had a distinctly cunning look as it made this proposal. Everything she had read showed the extreme danger of making a bargain with a demon. And there was no doubt that this one did look extraordinarily evil. Those long purple teeth. “Are you sure you’re being quite honest?” she said.

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“Not completely,” admitted the demon. “But do you want to stay like that till you die? That spell had shortened your life by about sixty years, if I am any judge of such things.”

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This was a nasty thought, and one which Sophie had tried not to think about up to now. It made quite a difference. “This contract you’re under,” she said. “It’s with Wizard Howl, is it?”

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“Of course,” said the demon. Its voice took on a bit of a whine again. “I’m fastened to this hearth and I can’t stir so much as a foot away. I’m forced to do most of the magic around here. I have to maintain the castle and keep it moving and do all the special effects that scare people off, as well as anything else Howl wants. Howl’s quite heartless, you know.”

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Sophie did not need telling that Howl was heartless. On the other hand, the demon was probably quite as wicked. “Don’t you get anything out of this contract at all?” she said.

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“I wouldn’t have entered into it if I didn’t,” said the demon, flickering sadly. “But I wouldn’t have done if I’d known what it would be like. I’m being exploited.”

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In spite of her caution, Sophie felt a good deal of sympathy for the demon. She thought of herself making hats for Fanny while Fanny went gadding. “All right,” she said. “What are the terms of the contract? How do I break it?”

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An eager purple grin spread across the demon’s blue face. “You agree to a bargain?”

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“If you agree to break the spell on me,” Sophie said, with a brave sense of saying something fatal.

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“Done!” cried the demon, his long face leaping gleefully up the chimney. “I’ll break your spell the very instant you break my contract!”

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“Then tell me how I break your contract,” Sophie said.

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The orange eyes glinted at her and looked away. “I can’t. Part of the contract is that neither the Wizard nor I can say what the main clause is.”

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Sophie saw that she had been tricked. She opened her mouth to tell the demon that it could sit in the fireplace until Doomsday in that case.

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The demon realized she was going to. “Don’t be hasty!” it crackled. “You can find out what it is if you watch and listen carefully. I implore you to try. The contract isn’t doing either of us any good in the long run. And I do keep my word. The fact that I’m stuck here shows that I keep it!”

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It was in earnest, leaping about on its logs in an agitated way. Sophie again felt a great deal of sympathy. “But if I’m to watch and listen, that means I have to stay here in Howl’s castle,” she objected.

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“Only about a month. Remember, I have to study your spell too,” the demon pleaded.

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“But what possible excuse can I give for doing that?” Sophie asked.

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“We’ll think of one. Howl’s pretty useless at most things. In fact,” the demon said, venomously hissing, “he’s too wrapped up in himself to see beyond his nose half the time. We can deceive him- as long as you’ll agree to stay.”

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“Very well,” Sophie said. “I’ll stay. Now find an excuse.”

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She settled herself comfortably in the chair while the demon thought. It thought aloud, in a little crackling, flickering murmur, which reminded Sophie rather of the way she had talked to her stick when she walked here. And it blazed while it thought with such a glad powerful roaring that she dozed again. She thought the demon did make a few suggestions. She remembered shaking her head to the notion that she should pretend to be Howl’s long- lost great- aunt, and to two other ones even more far- fetched, but she did not remember very clearly. The demon at length fell to singing a gentle, flickering little song. It was not in any language Sophie knew- or she thought not, until she distinctly heard the word “saucepan” in it several times- and it was very sleepy- sounding. Sophie fell into a deep sleep, with a slight suspicion that she was being bewitched now, as well as beguiled, but it did not bother her particularly. She would be free of the spell soon…..

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