Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones Page A

restrained her, my friend?”
    The skull yattered its teeth at him. Howl looked startled and put it down rather hastily.
    “Is something the matter?” Michael asked. He seemed to know the signs.
    “There is,” said Howl. “I shall have to find someone to blacken my name to the King.”
    “Was there something wrong with the wagon spell?” said Michael.
    “No. It worked perfectly. That’s the trouble,” Howl said, restlessly twiddling an onion ring on one finger. “The King’s trying to pin me down to do something else now. Calcifer, if we’re not very careful, he’s going to appoint me Royal Magician.” Calcifer did not answer. Howl roved back to the fireside and realized Calcifer was asleep. “Wake him up, Michael,” he said. “I need to consult him.”
    Michael threw two logs on Calcifer and called him. Nothing happened, apart from a thin spire of smoke.
    “Calcifer!” Howl shouted. That did no good either. Howl gave Michael a mystified look and picked up the poker, which was something Sophie had never seen him do before. “Sorry, Calcifer,” he said, jabbing under the unburned logs. “Wake up !”
    One thick black cloud of smoke rolled up, and stopped. “Go away,” Calcifer grunted. “I’m tired.”
    At this, Howl looked thoroughly alarmed. “What’s wrong with him? I’ve never known him like this before!”
    “I think it was the scarecrow,” Sophie said.
    Howl swiveled round on his knees and leveled his glass-marble eyes at her. “What have you done now ?” He went on staring while Sophie explained. “A scarecrow?” he said. “Calcifer agreed to speed up the castle because of a scarecrow ? Dear Sophie, do please tell me how you bully a fire demon into being that obliging. I’d dearly love to know!”
    “I didn’t bully him,” said Sophie. “It gave me a turn and he was sorry for me.”
    “It gave her a turn and Calcifer was sorry for her,” Howl repeated. “My good Sophie, Calcifer is never sorry for anyone. Anyway, I hope you enjoy raw onions and cold pie for your supper, because you’ve almost put Calcifer out.”
    “There’s the cake,” Michael said, trying to make peace.
    The food did seem to improve Howl’s temper, although he kept casting anxious looks at the unburning logs in the hearth all the time they were eating. The pie was good cold, and the onions were quite tasty when Sophie had soaked them in vinegar. The cake was superb. While they were eating it, Michael risked asking Howl what the King had wanted.
    “Nothing definite yet,” Howl said gloomily. “But he was sounding me out about his brother, quite ominously. Apparently they had a good old argument before Prince Justin stormed off, and people are talking. The King obviously wanted me to volunteer to look for his brother. And like a fool I went and said I didn’t think Wizard Suliman was dead, and that made matters worse.”
    “Why do you want to slither out of looking for the Prince?” Sophie demanded. “Don’t you think you can find him?”
    “Rude as well as a bully, aren’t you?” Howl said. He had still not forgiven her about Calcifer. “I want to get out of it because I know I can find him, if you must know. Justin was great buddies with Suliman, and the argument was because he told the King he was going to look for him. He didn’t think the King should have sent Suliman to the Waste in the first place. Now, even you must know there is a certain lady in the Waste who is very bad news. She promised to fry me alive last year, and she sent a curse out after me that I’ve only avoided so far because I had the sense to give her a false name.”
    Sophie was almost awed. “You mean you jilted the Witch of the Waste?”
    Howl cut himself another lump of cake, looking sad and honorable. “That is not the way to put it. I admit I thought I was fond of her for a time. She is in some ways a very sad lady, very unloved. Every man in Ingary is scared stiff of her. You ought to know how that feels,