《哈尔的移动城堡》——Howl’s Moving Castle（中英文对照）完结_派派后花园

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[Novel] 《哈尔的移动城堡》——Howl’s Moving Castle（中英文对照）完结

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Howl's Moving Castle is a young adult fantasy novel by British author Diana Wynne Jones, first published in 1986. It won a Boston Globe-Horn Book Award and was named an ALA Notable book for both children and young adults. In 2004 it was adapted as an Academy Award-nominated animated film by Hayao Miyazaki. A sequel, Castle in the Air, was published in 1990. A second sequel, House of Many Ways was released in June 2008.

The author was given the idea for this book when a young boy asked her to make a story called "The Moving Castle".

　　故事发生在19世纪末的欧洲，善良可爱的苏菲被恶毒的女巫施下魔咒，从18岁的女孩变成90岁的婆婆，孤单无助的她无意中走入镇外的移动城堡，据说它的主人哈尔以吸取女孩的灵魂为乐，但是事情并没有人们传说的那么可怕，性情古怪的哈尔居然收留了苏菲，两个人在四脚的移动城堡中开始了奇妙的共同生活，一段交织了爱与痛、乐与悲的爱情故事在战火中悄悄展开


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Chapter 1 Sophie talks to hats
In the land of Ingary, where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of three. Everyone knows you are the one who will fail first, and worst, if the three of you set out to seek your fortunes.
Sophie Hatter was the eldest of three sisters. She was not even the child of a poor woodcutter, which might have given her some chance of success. Her parents were well to do and kept a ladies’ hat shop in the prosperous town of Market Chipping. True, her own mother died when Sophie was just two years old and her sister Lettie was one year old, and their father married his youngest shop assistant, a pretty blonde girl called Fanny. Fanny shortly gave birth to the third sister, Martha. This ought to have made Sophie and Lettie into Ugly Sisters, but in fact all three girls grew up very pretty indeed, though Lettie was the one everyone said was most beautiful. Fanny treated all three girls with the same kindness and did not favor Martha in the least.
Mr. Hatter was proud of his three daughters and sent them all to the best school in town. Sophie was the most studious. She read a great deal, and very soon realized how little chance she had of an interesting future. It was a disappointment to her, but she was still happy enough, looking after her sisters and grooming Martha to seek her fortune when the time came. Since Fanny was always busy in the shop, Sophie was the one who looked after the younger two. There was a certain amount of screaming and hair-pulling between those younger two. Lettie was by no means resigned to being the one who, next to Sophie, was bound to be the least successful.
“It’s not fair!” Lettie would shout. “Why should Martha have the best of it just because she was born the youngest? I shall marry a prince, so there!”
To which Martha always retorted that she would end up disgustingly rich without having to marry anybody.
Then Sophie would have to drag them apart and mend their clothes. She was very deft with her needle. As time went on, she made clothes for her sisters too. There was one deep rose outfit she made for Lettie, the May Day before this story really starts, which Fanny said looked as if it had come from the most expensive shop in Kingsbury.
About this time everyone began talking of the Witch of the Waste again. It was said that the Witch had threatened the life of the King’s daughter and that the King had commanded his personal magician, Wizard Suliman, to go into the Waste and deal with the Witch. And it seemed that Wizard Suliman had not only failed to deal with the Witch: he had got himself killed by her.
So when, a few months after that, a tall black castle suddenly appeared on the hills above Market Chipping, blowing clouds of black smoke from its four tall, thin turrets, everybody was fairly sure that the Witch had moved out of the Waste again and was about to terrorize the country the way she used to fifty years ago. People got very scared indeed. Nobody went out alone, particularly, at night. What made it all the scarier was that the castle did not stay in the same place. Sometimes it was a tall black smudge on the moors to the northwest, sometimes it reared above the rocks to the east, and sometimes it came right downhill to sit in the heather only just beyond the last farm to the north. You could see it actually moving sometimes, with smoke pouring out from the turrets in dirty gray gusts. For a while everyone was certain that the castle would come right down into the valley before long, and the Mayor talked of sending to the King for help.
  But the castle stayed roving about the hills, and it was learned that it did not belong to the Witch but to Wizard Howl. Wizard Howl was bad enough. Though he did not seem to want to leave the hills, he was known to amuse himself by collecting young girls and sucking the souls from them. Or some people said he ate their hearts. He was an utterly cold-blooded and heartless wizard and no young girl was safe from him if he caught her on her own. Sophie, Lettie, and Martha, along with all the other girls in Market Chipping, were warned never to go out alone, which was a great annoyance to them. They wondered what use Wizard Howl found for all the souls he collected.
They had other things on their minds before long, however, for Mr. Hatter had died suddenly just as Sophie was old enough to leave school for good. It then appeared that Mr. Hatter had been altogether too proud of his daughters. The school fees he had been paying had left the shop with quite heavy debts. When the funeral was over, Fanny sat down in the parlor in the house next door to the shop and explained the situation.
“You’ll all have to leave that school, I’m afraid,” she said. “I’ve been doing sums back and front and sideways, and the only way I can see to keep the business going and take care of the three of you is to see you all settled in a promising apprenticeship somewhere. It isn’t practical to have you all in the shop. I can’t afford it. So this is what I’ve decided. Lettie first-“
Lettie looked up, glowing with health and beauty which even sorrow and black clothes could not hide. “I want to go on learning,” she said.
“So you shall, love,” said Fanny. “I’ve arranged for you to be apprenticed to Cesari’s, the pastry cook in Market Square. They’ve a name for treating their learners like kings and queens, and you should be very happy there, as well as learning a useful trade. Mrs.Cesari’s a good customer and a good friend, and she’s agreed to squeeze you in as a favor.”
Lettie laughed in a way that showed she was not at all pleased. “Well, thank you,” she said. “Isn’t it lucky that I like cooking?”
Fanny looked relieved. Lettie could be awkwardly strong-minded at times. “Now Martha,” she said. “I know you’re full young to go out and work, so I’ve thought around for something that would give you a long, quiet apprenticeship and go on being useful to you whatever you decide to do after that. You know my old school friend Annabel Fairfax?”
Martha, who was slender and fair, fixed her big gray eyes on Fanny almost as strong-mindedly as Lettie. “You mean the one who talks such a lot,” she said. “Isn’t she a witch?”
“Yes, with a lovely house and clients all over the Folding Valley,” Fanny said eagerly. “She’s a good woman, Martha. She’ll introduce you to grand people she knows in Kingsbury. You’ll be all set up in life when she’s done with you.”
“She’s a nice lady,” Martha conceded. “All right.”
Sophie, listening, felt that Fanny had worked everything out just as it should be. Lettie, as the second daughter, was never likely to come to much, so Fanny had put her where she might meet a handsome young apprentice and live happily ever after. Martha, who was bound to strike out and make her fortune, would have witchcraft and rich friends to help her. As for Sophie herself, Sophie had no doubt what was coming. It did not surprise her when Fanny said, “Now, Sophie dear, it seems only right and just that you should inherit the hat shop when I retire, being the eldest as you are. So I’ve decided to take you on as an apprentice myself, to give you a chance to learn the trade. How do you feel about that?”

  Sophie could hardly say that she simple felt resigned to the hat trade. She thanked Fanny gratefully.
“So that’s settled then!” Fanny said.
The next day Sophie helped Martha pack her clothes in a box, and the morning after that they all saw her off on the carrier’s cart, looking small and upright and nervous. For the way to Upper Folding, where Mrs. Fairfax lived, lay over the hills past Wizard Howl’s moving castle. Martha was understandably scared.
“ She’ll be all right,” said Lettie. Lettie refused all help with the packing. When the carrier’s cart was out of sight, Lettie crammed all her possessions into a pillow case and paid the neighbor’s bootboy sixpence to wheel it in a wheelbarrow to Cesari’s in Market Square. Lettie marched behind the wheelbarrow looking much more cheerful than Sophie expected. Indeed. She had the air of shaking the dust of the hat shop off her feet.
The bootboy brought back a scribbled note from Lettie, saying she had put her things in the girls’ dormitory and Cesari’s seemed great fun. A week later the carrier brought a letter from Martha to say that Martha had arrived safely and that Mrs. Fairfax was “a great dear and used honey with everything. She keeps bees.” That was all Sophie heard of her sisters for quite a while because she started her own apprenticeship the day Martha and Lettie left.
Sophie of course knew the hat trade quite well already. Since she was a tiny child she had run in and out of the big workshed across the yard where the hats were damped and molded on blocks, and flowers and fruit and other trimmings were made from wax and silk. She knew the people who worked there. Most of them had been there when her father was a boy. She knew Bessie, the only remaining shop assistant. She knew the customers who bought the hats and the man who drove the cart which fetched raw straw hats in from the country to be shaped on the blocks in the shed. She knew the other suppliers and how you made felt for winter hats. There was not really much that Fanny could teach her, except perhaps the best way to get a customer to buy a hat.
“You lead up to the right hat, love,” Fanny said. “Show them the ones that won’t quite do first, so they know the difference as soon as they put the right one on.”
In fact, Sophie did not sell hats very much. After a day or so observing in the workshed, and another day going round the clothier and the silk merchant’s with Fanny, Fanny set her to trimming hats. Sophie sat in a small alcove at the back of the shop, sewing roses to bonnets and veiling to velours, lining all of them with silk and arranging wax fruit and ribbons stylishly on the outsides. She was good at it. She quite liked doing it. But she felt so isolated and a little dull. The workshop people were too old to be much fun and, besides, they treated her as someone apart who was going to inherit the business someday. Bessie treated her the same way. Bessie’s only talk anyway was about the farmer she was going to marry the week after May Day. Sophie rather envied Fanny, who could bustle off to bargain with the silk merchant whenever she wanted.

  The most interesting thing was the talk from the customers. Nobody can buy a hat without gossiping. Sophie sat in her alcove and stitched and heard that the Mayor never would eat green vegetables, and that Wizard Howl’s castle had moved round to the cliffs again, really that man, whisper, whisper, whisper…. The voices always dropped low when they talked of Wizard Howl, but Sophie gathered that he had caught a girl down the valley last month. “Bluebeard!” said the whispers, and then became voices again to say that Jane Farrier was a perfect disgrace the way she did her hair. That was one who would never attract even Wizard Howl, let alone a respectable man. Then there would be a fleeting, fearful whisper about the Witch of the Waste. Sophie began to feel that Wizard Howl and the Witch of the Waste should get together.
“They seem to be made for one another. Someone ought to arrange a match,” she remarked to the hat she was trimming at that moment.
But by the end of the month the gossip in the shop was suddenly all about Lettie. Cesari’s, it seemed, was packed with gentlemen from morning to night, each one buying quantities of cakes and demanding to be served by Lettie. She had ten proposals of marriage, ranging in quality from the Mayor’s son to the lad who swept the streets, and she had refused them all, saying she was too young to make up her mind yet.
“I call that sensible of her,” Sophie said to the bonnet she was pleating silk into.
Fanny was pleased with this news. “I knew she’d be all right!” she said happily. It occurred to Sophie that Fanny was glad Lettie was no longer around.
“Lettie’s bad for custom,” she told the bonnet, pleating away at the mushroom-colored silk. “She would make even you look glamorous, you dowdy old thing. Other ladies look at Lettie and despair.”
Sophie talked to hats more and more as weeks went by. There was no one else much to talk to. Fanny was out bargaining, or trying to whip up custom, much of the day, and Bessie was busy serving and telling everyone her wedding plans. Sophie got into the habit of putting each hat on the stand as she finished it, where it sat almost looking like a head without a body, and pausing while she told the hat what the body under it ought to be like. She flattered the hats a bit, because you should flatter customers.
“You have mysterious allure,” she told one that was all veiling with hidden twinkles. To a wide, creamy hat with roses under the brim, she said, “You are going to have to marry money!” and to a caterpillar-green straw with a curly green feather she said, “You are young as a spring leaf.” She told pink bonnets they had dimpled charm and smart hats trimmed with velvet that they were witty. She told the mushroom-pleated bonnet, “You have a heart of gold and someone in a high position will see it and fall in love with you.” This was because she was sorry for that particular bonnet. It looked so fussy and plain.
Jane Farrier came into the shop next day and bought it. Her hair did look a little strange, Sophie thought, peeping out of her alcove, as if Jane had wound it round a row of pokers. It seemed a pity she had chosen that bonnet. But everyone seemed to be buying hats and bonnets around then. Maybe it was Fanny’s sales talk or maybe it was spring coming on, but the hat trade was definitely picking up. Fanny began to say, a little guiltily, “I think I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry to get Martha and Lettie placed out. At this rate we might have managed.”

  There was so much custom as April drew on towards May Day that Sophie had to put on a demure gray dress and help in the shop too. But such was the demand that she was hard at trimming hats in between customers, and every evening she took them next door to the house, where she worked by lamplight far into the night in order to have hats to sell the next day. Caterpillar-green hats like the one the Mayor’s wife had were much called for, and so were pink bonnets. Then, the week before May Day, someone came in and asked for one with mushroom pleats like the one Jane Farrier had been wearing when she ran off with the Count of Catterack.
That night, as she sewed, Sophie admitted to herself that her life was rather dull. Instead of talking to the hats, she tried each one on as she finished it and looked in the mirror. This was a mistake. The staid gray dress did not suit Sophie, particularly when her eyes were red-rimmed with sewing, and, since her hair was a reddish straw color, neither did caterpillar-green nor pink. The one with the mushroom pleats simply made her look dreary. “Like an old maid!” said Sophie. Not that she wanted to race off with counts, like Jane Farrier, or even fancied half the town offering her marriage, like Lettie. But she wanted to do something-she was not sure what- that had a bit more interest to it than simply trimming hats. She thought she would find time next day to go and talk to Lettie.
But she did not go. Either she could not find the time, or she could not find the energy, or it seemed a great distance to Market Square, or she remembered that on her own she was in danger from Wizard Howl- anyway, every day it seemed more difficult to go and see her sister. It was very odd. Sophie had always thought she was nearly as strong-minded as Lettie. Now she was finding that there were some things she could only do when there were no excuses left. “This is absurd!” Sophie said. “Market Square is only two streets away. If I run-“ And she swore to herself she would go round to Cesari’s when the hat shop was closed for May Day.
Meanwhile a new piece of gossip came into the shop. The King had quarreled with his own brother, Prince Justin, it was said, and the Prince had gone into exile. Nobody quite knew the reason for the quarrel, but the Prince had actually come through Market Chipping in disguise a couple of months back, and nobody had known. The Count of Catterack had been sent by the King to look for the Prince, when he happened to meet Jane Farrier instead. Sophie listened and felt sad. Interesting things did seem to happen, but always to somebody else. Still, it would be nice to see Lettie.
May Day came. Merrymaking filled the streets from dawn onward. Fanny went out early, but Sophie had a couple of hats to finish first. Sophie sang as she worked. After all, Lettie was working too. Cesari’s was open till midnight on holidays. “I shall buy one of their cream cakes,” Sophie decided. “I haven’t had one for ages.” She watched people crowding past the window in all kinds of bright clothes, people selling souvenirs, people walking on stilts, and felt really excited.
  But when she at last put a gray shawl over her gray dress and went out into the street, Sophie did not feel excited. She felt overwhelmed. There were too many people rushing past, laughing and shouting, far too much noise and jostling. Sophie felt as if the past months of sitting and sewing had turned her into an old woman or a semi-invalid. She gathered her shawl around her and crept along close to the houses, trying to avoid being trodden on my people’s best shoes or being jabbed by elbows in trailing silk sleeves. When there came a sudden volley of bangs from overhead somewhere, Sophie thought she was going to faint. She looked up and saw Wizard Howl’s castle right down on the hillside above the town, so near it seemed to be sitting on the chimneys. Blue flames were shooting out of all four of the castle’s turrets, bringing balls of blue fire with them that exploded high in the sky, quite horrendously. Wizard Howl seemed to be offended by May Day. Or maybe he was trying to join in, in his own fashion. Sophie was too terrified to care. She would have gone home, except that she was halfway to Cesari’s by then. So she ran.
“What made me think I wanted life to be interesting?” she asked as she ran. “I’d be far too scared. It comes of being the eldest of three.”
When she reached Market Square, it was worse, if possible. most of the inns were in the Square. Crowds of young men swaggered beerily to and fro, trailing cloaks and long sleeves and stamping buckled boots they would never have dreamed of wearing on a working day, calling loud remarks and accosting girls. The girls strolled in fine pairs, ready to be accosted. It was perfectly normal for May Day, but Sophie was scared of that too. And when a young man in a fantastical blue-and-silver costume spotted Sophie and decided to accost her as well, Sophie shrank into a shop doorway and tried to hide.
The young man looked at her in surprise. “It’s all right, you little gray mouse,” he said, laughing rather pityingly. “I only want to buy you a drink. Don’t look so scared.”
The pitying look made Sophie utterly ashamed. He was such a dashing specimen too, with a bony, sophisticated face-really quite old, well into his twenties- and elaborate blonde hair. His sleeves trailed longer than any in the Square, all scalloped edges and silver insets. “Oh, no thank you, if you please, sir,” Sophie stammered. “I- I’m on my way to see my sister.”
“Then by all means do so,” laughed this advanced young man. “Who am I to keep a pretty lady from her sister? Would you like me to go with you, since you seem so scared?”
He meant it kindly, which made Sophie more ashamed than ever. “No. No thank you, sir!” she gasped and fled away past him. He wore perfume too. The smell of hyacinths followed her as she ran. What a courtly person! Sophie thought, as she pushed her way between the little tables outside Cesari’s.
The tables were packed. Inside was packed and as noisy as the Square. Sophie located Lettie among the line of assistants at the counter because of the group of evident farmer’ sons leaning their elbows on it to shout remarks to her. Lettie, prettier than ever and perhaps a little thinner, was putting cakes into bags as fast as she could go, giving each bag a deft little twist and looking back under her own elbow with a smile and an answer for each bag she twisted. There was a great deal of laughter. Sophie had to fight her way through to the counter.
Lettie saw her. She looked shaken for a moment. Then her eyes and her smile widened and she shouted, “Sophie!”
“Can I talk to you?” Sophie yelled. “Somewhere,” she shouted, a little helplessly, as a large well-dressed elbow jostled her back from the counter.
“Just a moment!” Lettie screamed back. She turned to the girl next to her and whispered. The girl nodded, grinned, and came to take Lettie’s place.
“You’ll have to have me instead,” she said to the crowd. “Who’s next?”
“But I want to talk to you, Lettie!” one of the farmers’ sons yelled.
“Talk to Carrie,” Lettie said. “I want to talk to my sister.” Nobody really seemed to mind. They jostled Sophie along to the end of the counter where Lettie held up a flap and beckoned, and told her not to keep Lettie all day. When Sophie had edged through the flap, Lettie seized her wrist and dragged her into the back of the shop, to a room surrounded by rack upon wooden rack, each one filled with rows of cakes. Lettie pulled forward two stools. “Sit down,” she said. She looked in the nearest rack, in an absent-minded way, and handed Sophie a cream cake out of it. “You may need this,” she said.
Sophie sank onto the stool, breathing the rich smell of cake and feeling a little tearful. “Oh, Lettie!” she said. “I am so glad to see you!”
“Yes, and I’m glad you’re sitting down,” said Lettie. “You see, I’m not Lettie, I’m Martha.”  
  
第一章 跟帽子说话的苏菲
    在印格利国里，像七里靴啦、隐形斗篷这些东西，可是确实存在的唷！但在这个国家里，当三个兄弟姐妹中的老大可是顶倒霉的一件事。每个人都认定了你会第一个失败！尤其是三个人必须一道出门奋斗时，人们更是认定了老大铁定会最没成就。
    苏菲海特是三个姐妹中的老大。假如他是个伐木工的女儿，她成功的几率或许还能大些。但她的父母经济能力优渥，在繁荣的马克齐平镇上开有一家帽店。苏菲的生母在她两岁，妹妹乐蒂一岁时去世。他父亲再娶，对象是店里最年轻的助手，一个叫芬妮的美丽金发女子。婚后不久，芬妮又生了老三玛莎。照说苏菲跟乐蒂因此就会成为一般故事中的丑姐姐了，但事实上三个女孩都长得很漂亮。尤其是乐蒂，是大家公认三姐妹中最美丽的一个！芬妮对三个女孩皆疼爱有加，一点也不会对玛莎特别偏爱。
    海特先生很以她的三个女儿为荣，送她们到镇上最好的学校就读，苏菲最用功，她大量地阅读，但她也很快就认识到，自己能够拥有“有趣未来”的可能性微乎其微。虽然她不免觉得失望，但她的日子一般说来仍算过得很愉快——照顾妹妹们，并且教导玛莎当机会来临时要会掌握。因为芬妮总是在店里忙着，照顾妹妹们的责任自然就落在苏菲身上。两个妹妹常会吵架，互相扯头发尖叫连连。乐蒂不甘心成为继苏菲之后较不成功的一个。
    “不公平！”乐蒂总会尖叫：“凭什么只因为她最小她就可以拥有最好的？我要嫁给王子！我偏要！”
    玛莎听了，总会顶她说，她单凭一己之力，无需嫁给王子，就可以有钱到不行！
    接下来，苏菲就得想法子将她们拉开，并修补她们的衣裳。她很巧于针线，后来，甚至还为妹妹们裁制衣裳。其中有一件她为乐蒂参加五月节（也就是本书正式开始的那个日子）所缝制的深玫瑰色的外衣，芬妮认为那简直像在金斯别利城里最贵的店里买的高档货。
    也差不多就在那个时候，人们开始谈起荒地的女巫，据说女巫威胁要取国王女儿的性命。国王派他私人的魔法师——苏利曼巫师，到荒地去对付女巫。结果似乎不仅仅没能将女巫摆平，苏利曼巫师还因此丧了命。
    因此，在那件事件过后数个月，当一座高大的黑色城堡突然出现在马克齐平镇旁的山丘上，四个高高的、狭长的角楼持续地往外冒出黑烟时，每个人都认为女巫又搬出荒地了！她又要像五十年前那样，开始陷全国于恐怖之中了！人们非常害怕！没有人敢独自出门，尤其是夜里。更可怕的是，城堡并不是固定呆在同一个地方，有时是在西北方荒野上一个高高的黑色污点；有时又绕到东边的岩壁上；有时直下山岗，就坐在离镇北最后一座农场不远的石南地上；有时还真的可以看到它在移动，脏脏的灰烟由角楼里阵阵涌出。有一阵子，每个人都确信要不了多久，那城堡就会直下到山谷里来了。镇长也说要派人到国王那儿讨救兵。
    但那城堡只是持续地绕着山岗转。后来人们更听说那其实不是女巫的城堡，而是豪尔巫师的。豪尔巫师也是个声名狼藉的人物。虽然看来他似乎无意离开山岗，但据说他最喜欢收集年轻女孩儿，并且汲取她们的灵魂。还有人说他喜欢吃女孩儿的心脏。总之，他是一个极端冷血、没心少肺的巫师。任何落单的女孩儿若被他捉住了，铁定完蛋！苏菲、乐蒂、玛莎跟马克齐平所有的其他的女孩们都受到警告：绝对不能单独外出。这叫她们讨厌的要命！不知豪尔巫师收集那么多灵魂到底要做什么？
    但是，过不了多久，他们的心思就为别的烦心事而给占据了。就在苏菲将要完成学业时，海特先生突然去世。他死后，她们才发现他是多么宠爱他的三个女儿！因为负担了昂贵的学费，店里背负了相当沉重的债务。办完丧事后，芬妮在紧邻着店铺的自家客厅里跟三个女儿说明家里的情形。
    “恐怕你们都得离开学校，去当个有工作前途的学徒之类的。”她说：“我算了又算，不知算了多少回，发现那是唯一能让店铺继续经营下去，又能养活你们三人的方法。要你们三个人全留在店里帮忙是很不实际的，我也负担不起，我现在就告诉你们我的决定。先说乐蒂……”
    乐蒂闻言抬起头来，脸上散发着连忧伤与黑色都掩饰不住的健康、美丽的光彩。“我想继续学习。”她说。
    “那不成问题，亲爱的，”芬妮说：“我安排你到方形市场的糕饼师傅希赛利先生的店里当学徒。他们对店里的学徒出名的好，简直跟对待国王和皇后一样。你在那儿不仅会过得很愉快，还能学到一样有用的技艺。希赛利太太是我们店里的好主顾，也是好朋友。她基于帮忙的性质，同意将你硬安排进去。”
    乐蒂的笑声显露出她其实一点都不快乐。“好的，谢谢你，”她说：“多亏了我一向爱煮东西，不是吗？”
    芬妮看来如释重负，因为乐蒂有时脾气很倔。“至于你呢，玛莎，”她说：“我知道你还太小，无法外出工作。所以，我一直在思索，想找一个让你做得长久且安静的学习机会。你记得我的老同学安娜贝儿。菲菲克丝吗？”
    长得瘦削美丽的玛莎，大大的灰色眼珠紧盯着芬妮，倔强的神情一点也不输给乐蒂。“你是说，很爱说话的那一位？”她问道：“它不是女巫吗？”
    “是的。她有个漂亮的房子，而且顾客遍及福尔丁谷。”芬妮热切地说：“玛莎，她人很好。她会将所知的一切倾囊相授，而且很可能还会介绍她所认识的金斯别利城的要人给你认识。等你学成，将可衣食无虞。”
    “她是个好人，”玛莎让步了。“好吧！”
    苏菲边听着，边觉得芬妮真是什么都想到了。身为次女的乐蒂，注定也成不了大气候，所以芬妮将她安排到一个可能遇到年轻英俊的见习生的地方，结婚后，快乐地过一辈子。玛莎这注定要成大功发大财，巫术及有钱的朋友将能帮助她成功。至于她自己，他可是心知肚明。因此当芬妮说：“至于里，亲爱的苏菲，既然身为长女，将来我退休后，帽子店理当由你继承。所以我决定让你来店里当学徒，好有机会学习这个行业。你觉得如何？”
    不消说，对这样的命运，苏菲早就认了。她满怀感激地谢谢芬妮。
    “那么，事情就这么决定？？？”芬妮说。
    次日，苏菲帮玛莎将衣服打包，放到盒子里。隔日早晨，大家目送她搭着马车离去。她看来十分娇小，腰杆虽然挺得笔直，却透着紧张。因为往菲菲克丝太太居住的上福尔丁途中，必须越过豪尔巫师那座凌空城堡所盘踞的山丘，玛莎当然会感到害怕。
    “她不会有事的。”乐蒂说。乐蒂打包时完全不要别人帮忙。在玛莎的车子甫离开视线，她就将所有的衣物全塞到一个枕套里，找来附近的车童，以六便士的代价，要他将东西用独轮车推到方形市场的希赛利糕饼店去。她自己则安步当车，跟在独轮车后，神情比苏菲所预期的快乐许多，仿佛帽子店里的灰尘都被她悉数抖落在地似的，愉快的不得了。
    车童带回一张乐蒂潦草写的短笺，说东西都放到女生宿舍里了，希赛利糕饼店看来蛮好玩的。一个星期之后，玛莎写信来，说她已安全抵达。菲菲克丝太太“人好的没话说，什么东西都要淋上蜂蜜，养了一群蜜蜂。”接下来，有许久苏菲都没有跟她的妹妹们联络，因为玛莎和乐蒂离开当天，她自己也开始了帽店的学徒生涯。
    事实上，苏菲对帽子这一行早就十分熟悉。她从小就在院子对面的帽子工厂里跑进跑出。帽子的质材如何浸泡，如何在帽墩上成型，花与水果的干燥、烘制、如何用蜡或缎带制作其他的帽饰等等，她都了然于胸。她也认得所有的工人。其中几位，从他父亲还小时就在哪儿工作了。她认得唯一留下来的店员贝希，认得来买过帽子的客人们，还有乡下运来草帽好在仓库里加工制造的车夫；她也认得其他的供应商，知道制作冬帽用的毛料如何制造。芬妮能教她的其实相当有限，唯一能学到的，或许是诱使客人买帽子的方法与诀窍吧。
    “你带她们到最适合的帽之前，”芬妮说：“但是，先让他们试戴那些不怎么合适的帽子。这样一来，当他们戴上那顶适合的帽子时，就能优劣立判。”
    事实上，苏菲不常卖帽子。在工厂观察实际作业一天，又陪着芬妮拜访布商和丝绸商一天后，芬妮就要她去装饰帽子。苏菲坐在帽店后头的小房间里，在无边的女帽上缝上玫瑰，为丝绒帽加上面纱，为所有的帽子缝上丝织的衬里，然后在外面以蜡制的水果和缎带设计出迷人的风采。她技艺卓越也喜欢这样的工作，但不免觉得生活太孤立，并且有些枯燥无趣。厂里的工人年纪都很大了，相处起来没啥趣味，而且他们也当她是将来要继承家业的人，言行举止间因而有份客气与拘束。贝希也一样，谈话的唯一内容是五月节过后一星期要与她结婚的那个农夫。苏菲很羡慕芬妮能不拘时刻、随心所欲地出门，去和缎带上讨价还价。
    最有趣的还是来自顾客们的谈话。没有人在买帽子的同时能不说长道短的。苏菲坐在小房间里，听着市长从不吃青菜，豪尔巫师的城堡又移到峭壁上空，那个人实在是……等等等等，吱吱喳喳、吱吱喳喳……每当豪尔巫师被提及时，讨论的声量就突然变小。不过苏菲推断出他上个月在山谷抓了一个女孩。“蓝胡子！”（注：《格林童话》中的蓝胡子）说话的人悄声地说，然后声音又变大了，说珍法丽儿那个发型简直是丢脸到家了！梳那种头，连豪尔巫师都要倒胃口，何况是一般正派的男子。然后，会有那么一段短暂的、声音中透着恐惧的，关于荒地女巫的悄声谈论。苏菲开始觉得，豪尔巫师和荒地女巫这两个人还真该凑成一对才是。
    “这两人似乎是天造地设的一对，应该要有人替他们撮合一下。”她跟她手头正在装饰的帽子说。
    但是到了当月底，乐蒂突然成为店里所有闲话的话题。看来似乎是，希赛利糕饼店由早到晚挤满了蜂拥而至的男士。每个人都点了一大堆糕点，并指明要乐蒂当该桌的服务生。她已经接到了十起求婚，对象上至镇长的儿子下至扫街的工人，而她全部予以拒绝，理由是她还太年轻，无法作决定。
    “她这么做是很聪明的。”苏菲边缝着丝带，边跟帽子说话。
    这样的消息让芬妮很高兴。“我就知道他会过得好好的！”她快乐地说。但苏菲听着，突然觉得芬妮似乎很高兴乐蒂终于不在身边了。
    “乐蒂在这儿会妨碍生意，”她边着褶蘑菇色的丝缎边跟帽子说：“就连你这个寒酸老气的家伙戴到她头上都会变得美不可言。别的女人一看到她，会感到人生无望的。”
    随着日子一天天过去，苏菲跟帽子说话的时间越来越多，因为她没有别的谈话对象。芬妮大部分的时间都在外面跑——不是去跟人讲价，就是去推销生意。贝希则忙着接待店里的客人及谈论她的婚礼筹划的情形。苏菲开始养成一个习惯：每完成一项帽子，将它挂到帽架上后，看着这个仿佛缺少身体的人头，他会沉思一下后，告诉那顶帽子它的身体应该是什么样子。她会挑些好听的话跟它说，因为对顾客理应巴结，说说好话。
    “你带着神秘的诱惑力哦，”她这么告诉一顶面纱后藏有亮片的帽子。对一顶乳白色、宽边、帽沿下缝有玫瑰的帽子，她说的是：“你会嫁给有钱人！”至于那顶嫩绿色，饰有一根卷曲绿色羽毛的草帽，她说的是：“你像春天的嫩叶般年轻！”她告诉粉红色的无边软帽，它有酒窝的风情与可爱；饰有丝绒带子、样子时髦的帽子则机敏风趣；对那顶打蘑菇色皱褶的女帽，她说的是：“你心地善良无比，一个位高权重的人将会看出这一点而爱上你。”之所以这么说，是因为那顶帽子看来实在是其貌不扬，很难取悦于人。
    那顶帽子第二天被珍法丽儿买去了。苏菲由小房里偷偷探头看了一下，她的头发确实梳得有些奇怪，好像是绕着一排钳子梳出来的，会选上那顶帽子实在有些可怜，但是那阵子好像每个人都跑来买帽子。也许是芬妮促销成功，也或许是因为春天到了。总之，帽店的生意肯定是好转了。芬妮开始有点愧疚地说：“当初或许不该急着将玛莎和乐蒂送走。因为照这个情形看来，我们应该还应付得过去。”
    随着五月节的接近，四月里顾客真是多到接不完，连苏菲都必须穿上一件严肃的灰色洋装跟着在店里帮忙。但生意实在太好了！因此，在接待客人的空档间，她还得忙着装饰帽子。每晚，她都得将帽子带回位于帽店隔壁的住家，就着灯光工作到深夜，以便第二天有帽子可卖，乡镇长夫人戴的那种嫩绿色草帽有许多人订购，粉红色的无边软帽也是。然后，在五月节的前一星期，有人进来订购一顶珍法丽儿和卡特拉克男爵私奔时戴的那种打有蘑菇色褶子的帽子。
    当晚，苏菲缝着帽子时，首度对自己承认，她的生活实在是枯燥无趣。因此，在完成每顶帽子后，她不再跟它们说话。反而，将它们戴起来，看看自己镜里的模样。这真是一个错误！首先，那件灰衣服本就不适合她穿。尤其她的眼睛因为工作太久变得红通通的，再加上一头红发，不管是戴绿色草帽或粉红色帽子都跟它不搭调。而那顶打有蘑菇色褶子的帽子戴起来更是可怕。“像老处女一样！”苏菲叹道。她到无意向珍法丽儿一样跟男爵私奔，或想象自己会跟乐蒂一样，吸引城里一半的男士来求婚。但是她很想做一些事情，一些比纯粹修饰帽子有趣的事——虽然她还不确定是什么样的事。她想，第二天要找时间去看看乐蒂，跟她谈一谈。
    但是她并没有去成。原因不外乎她太忙没时间，不然就是太累提不起劲，或者是嫌方形市场似乎蛮远的；要不嘛，就是她突然想到豪尔巫师挺危险的。总之，随着日子一天天过去，与妹妹见面一事变得越来越困难。这样的情景实在诡异。苏菲一向认为自己几乎跟乐蒂一样有主见，现在却发现自己一再找借口搪塞拖延。“这太荒谬了！”她说：“方形市场离这里不过两条街，我用跑得话……”她跟自己发誓，五月节那天，店关门后她一定要去希赛利糕饼店一趟。
    这期间，店里又有了新的八卦新闻，听说国王和他的亲弟弟贾斯汀王子吵架，王子被放逐了，没人知道争吵的真正原因，但是几个月前，王子成便装经过马克齐平镇，当时没有人认出他来。卡特拉克男爵就是奉国王的命令出来找他时，遇到珍法丽儿的。苏菲听着，心里隐隐觉得悲伤。世上不乏有趣的事，偏都降临在别人身上。不过，去看看乐蒂应该是不错的。
    五月节终于到了。一早，街上就充满了欢乐气息。芬妮很早就出门去了，但苏菲得先将一些帽子做好，她边做边唱歌，横竖乐蒂那天也是的工作的。希赛利糕饼店假日都开到午夜十二点。“我要每一块他们的奶油蛋糕来吃，”苏菲下了决定：“我好久没吃奶油蛋糕了。”她看着窗外熙攘的人群，每个人都穿着明亮鲜艳的服装，还有买纪念品的、踩高跷的，心情不由得跟着兴奋起来。
    但是当她终于披上一件灰色披肩，走到街上时，她不仅不感到兴奋，反而觉得整个人快被淹没似的。太多人在身边跑来跑去笑着、叫着，实在是太吵杂、太拥挤了！苏菲觉得过去几个月的静坐缝纫，已经将她变成一个老女人或半残废了。她将披肩紧紧围住，沿着路旁的房子走，以免被人们的好鞋子踩到，或被穿着长长飘逸丝袖的手肘撞到。当头上突然传来一阵巨响时。她差点吓昏过去。她抬头一望，看到豪尔巫师的城堡就停在小镇上方的山坡上，离得那么近，给人它就坐在烟囱上的错觉。四个角楼全往外冒着蓝烟，随着烟喷射而出的是蓝色的火球，火球在高空中爆炸开来，乱恐怖的。五月节大概冒犯到豪尔巫师了？有或许他想以自己的方式来加入庆典？但是苏菲实在太害怕了，没心情多想。若非她已经走到半路，她早逃回家去了。她开始奔跑。
    “我怎会想要把日子过得有趣呢？”她边跑边想：“真那样的话，我会非常害怕。这都是因为我是长女的缘故。”
    当她抵达方形市场时，情形只有更糟，因为大部分的酒店都开在这儿，街上满是带着酒气与醉意的年轻男子，穿着长长的斗篷、飘逸的长袖，踩着工作时决不会穿着带环扣长统靴，东倒西歪地走来走去，嘴里大声地喧嚷，和女孩儿搭讪。女孩儿则两人一组慢慢走着，等男子前来搭讪。在五月节里，这是再自然不过的事了，但是苏菲连这个都感到害怕。当一位穿着非常出色的蓝银色相间戏服的年轻男子看到她，决定过来搭讪时，她退到一间店铺的门口，想躲起来。
    那年轻男子惊讶地看着她。“小灰鼠，没关系的！”边说边笑着，笑声中带着怜悯：“我不过想请你喝一杯，你无需这样害怕。”
    那怜悯的眼神令苏菲非常羞愧。这人还长得好帅气——脸型瘦削、线条分明，看来很有教养，颇有些年纪了……应该有二十好几了吧？一头金发显然经过刻意的梳理。她的长袖拖曳的比方形市场上任何人都长，不仅有贝型的装饰边，还镶了银线。“噢，不用了，谢谢。如果你不介意的话。”她的舌头开始打结：“我……我正要去找我妹妹。”
    “那我就不耽搁你了，”这个献殷勤的年轻男子笑着说：“我怎好妨碍这样美丽的姑娘与他的姐妹见面？你看起来十分害怕，要不要我陪你去？”
    他这番话纯粹出于好意，却也令苏菲更加羞愧。“不，不用了。谢谢你，先生。”她喘着气，由他身边逃开，他身上撒了香水，那风信子的香味在她奔跑时一路跟着她。“真是会献殷勤的一个人！”苏菲边挤过希塞利糕饼店外小餐桌间的人群边想着。
    每张餐桌都坐满了人。里头跟外头一样吵闹。柜台处有一排女服务生，苏菲很快就看到了乐蒂，因为一群显然出身农家的年轻男子手肘正靠在柜台上，大声地跟她说话。乐蒂看来更漂亮了！可似乎稍稍瘦了点。她正尽快地装蛋糕，将蛋糕放到袋子里，袋口熟练地扭转下，然后回过头来微笑着说上一句话。柜台处笑声不断，苏菲费尽力气才挤过去。
    乐蒂看到她时很明显地吓了一跳。然后她张大眼笑了开来，大叫道：“苏菲！”
    “我能跟你说说话吗？”苏菲喊回去：“找个什么地方？”边喊着，旁边一只大大的、穿着入时的手肘却将她推离了柜台，令她颇有无能为力的感觉。
    “等一会儿！”乐蒂喊回来，它转身跟旁边的女孩悄声说话。那女孩点点头，笑了笑，占到乐蒂的位置上。
    “换我来为各位服务。”她更众人宣布后问道：“下一个是谁？”
    “可是乐蒂，我想跟你说话呀！”其中一位农村青年喊道。
    “跟凯莉说吧，”乐蒂回道：“我想跟我姐姐说话。”大家好像并不介意，他们将苏菲拥到柜台的边端，乐蒂开着柜台的边门等着。男士们叮咛说，别将乐蒂霸着一整天不放。苏菲挤过那道边门后，乐蒂拉过两张凳子：“坐吧。”她看着最近的木架，脸上有种心不在焉的神情，伸手拿过一块蛋糕递给苏菲。“你可能需要这个。”她说。
    苏菲坐在凳子上，吸着蛋糕浓郁的香味，觉得泫然欲泣。“乐蒂，”她说：“我好高兴看到你！”
    “是的。我也很高兴你现在是坐着，”乐蒂说：“因为，我并不是乐蒂，我是玛莎。”
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举报 只看该作者 板凳   发表于: 2013-10-25 0

Chapter 2 Sophie is compelled to seek her fortune
“What?” Sophie stared at the girl on the stool opposite her. She looked just like Lettie. She was wearing Lettie’s second-best blue dress, a wonderful blue that suited her perfectly. She had Lettie’s dark hair and blue eyes.
“I am Martha,” said her sister. “Who did you catch cutting up Lettie’s silk drawers? I never told Lettie that. Did you?”
“No,” said Sophie, quite stunned. She could see it was Martha now. There was Martha’s tilt to Lettie’s head, and Martha’s way of clasping her hands round her knees with her thumbs twiddling. “Why?”
“I’ve been dreading you coming to see me,” Martha said, “because I knew I’d have to tell you. It’s a relief now I have. Promise you won’t tell anyone. I know you won’t tell if you promise. You’re so honorable.”
“I promise,” Sophie said. “But why? How?”
“Lettie and I arranged it,” Martha said, twiddling her thumbs, “because Lettie wanted to learn witchcraft and I didn’t. Lettie’s got brains, and she wants a future where she can use them-only try telling that to Mother! Mother’s too jealous of Lettie even to admit she has brains!”
Sophie could not believe Fanny was like that, but she let it pass. “But what about you?”
“Eat your cake,” said Martha. “It’s good. Oh, yes, I can be clever too. It only took me two weeks at Mrs. Fairfax’s to find the spell we’re using. I got up at night and read her books secretly, and it was easy really. Then I asked if I could visit my family and Mrs. Fairfax said yes. She’s a dear. She thought I was homesick. So I took the spell and came here, and Lettie went back to Mrs. Fairfax pretending to be me. The difficult part was the first week, when I didn’t know all the things I was supposed to know. It was awful. But I discovered that people like me-they do, you know, if you like them-and then it was all right. And Mrs. Fairfax hasn’t kicked Lettie out, so I suppose she managed too.”
Sophie chomped at cake she was not really tasting. “But what made you want to do this?”
Martha rocked on her stool, grinning all over Lettie’s face, twirling her thumbs in a happy pink whirl. “I want to get married and have ten children.”
“You’re not quite old enough!” said Sophie.
“Not quite,” Martha agreed. “But you can see I’ve got to start quite soon in order to fit ten children in. And this way gives me time to wait and see if the person I want likes me for being me. The spell’s going to wear off gradually, and I shall get more and more like myself, you see.”
Sophie was so astonished that she finished her cake without noticing what kind it had been. “Why ten children?”
“Because that’s how many I want,” Said Martha.
“I never knew!”
“Well, it wasn’t much good going on about it when you were so busy backing Mother up about me making my fortune,” Martha said. “You thought Mother meant it. I did too, until Father died and I saw she was just trying to get rid of us- putting Lettie where she was bound to meet a lot of men and get married off, and sending me as far away as she could! I was so angry I thought, Why not? And I spoke to Lettie and she was just as angry and we fixed it up. We’re fine now. But we both feel bad about you. You’re far too clever and nice to be stuck in that shop for the rest of your life. We talked about it, but we couldn’t see what to do.”

  “I’m all right,” Sophie protested. “Just a bit dull.”
“All right?” Martha exclaimed. “Yes, you prove you’re all right by not coming near here for months, and then turning up in a frightful gray dress and shawl, looking as if even I scare you! What’s Mother been doing to you?”
“Nothing,” Sophie said uncomfortably. “We’ve been rather busy. You shouldn’t talk about Fanny that way, Martha. She is your mother.”
“Yes, and I’m enough like her to understand her,” Martha retorted. “That’s why she sent me so far away, or tried to. Mother knows you don’t have to be unkind to someone in order to exploit them. She knows how dutiful you are. She knows you have this thing about being a failure because you’re only the eldest. She’s managed you perfectly and got you slaving away for her. I bet she doesn’t pay you.”
“I’m still an apprentice,” Sophie protested.
“So am I, but I get a wage. The Cesaris know I’m worth it,” said Martha. “That hat shop is making a mint these days, and all because of you! You made that green hat that makes the Mayor’s wife look like a stunning schoolgirl, didn’t you?”
“Caterpillar green. I trimmed it,” said Sophie.
“And the bonnet Jane Farrier was wearing when she met that nobleman,” Martha swept on. “You’re a genius with hats and clothes, and Mother knows it! You sealed your fate when you made Lettie that outfit last May Day. Now you earn the money while she goes off gadding-“
“She’s out doing the buying,” Sophie said.
“Buying!” Martha cried. Her thumbs whirled. “That takes her half a morning. I’ve seen her, Sophie, and heard the talk. She’s off in a hired carriage and new clothes on your earnings, visiting all the mansions down the valley! They’re saying she’s going to buy that big place down at Vale End and set up in style. And where are you?”
“Well, Fanny’s entitled to some pleasure after all her hard work bringing us up,” Sophie said. “I suppose I’ll inherit the shop.”
“What a fate!” Martha exclaimed. “Listen-“
But at that moment two empty cake racks were pulled away at the other end of the room, and an apprentice stuck his head through from the back somewhere “Thought I heard your voice, Lettie,” he said, grinning in the most friendly and flirtatious way. “The new baking’s just up. Tell them.” His head, curly and somewhat floury, disappeared again. Sophie thought he looked a nice lad. She longed to ask if he was the one Martha really liked, but she did not get a chance. Martha sprang up in a hurry, still talking.
“I must get the girls to carry all these through to the shop.” She said. “Help me with the end of this one.” She dragged out the nearest rack and Sophie helped her hump it past the door into the roaring, busy shop. “You must do something about yourself, Sophie,” Martha panted as they went. “Lettie kept saying she didn’t know what would happen to you when we weren’t around to give you some self-respect. She was right to be worried.”
In the shop Mrs. Cesari seized the rack from them in both massive arms, yelling instructions, and a line of people rushed away past Martha to fetch more. Sophie yelled goodbye and slipped away in the bustle. It did not seem right to take up more of Martha’s time. Besides, she wanted to be alone to think. She ran home. There were fireworks now, going up from the field by the river where the Fair was, competing with the blue bangs from Howl’s castle. Sophie felt more like an invalid than ever.

  She thought and thought, and most of the following week, and all that happened was that she became confused and discontented. Things just did not seem to be the way she thought they were. She was amazed at Lettie and Martha. She had misunderstood them for years. But she could not believe Fanny was the kind of woman Martha said.
There was a lot of time for thinking, because Bessie duly left to be married and Sophie was mostly alone in the shop. Fanny did seem to be out a lot, gadding or not, and trade was slack after May Day. After three days Sophie plucked up enough courage to ask Fanny, “Shouldn’t I be earning a wage?”
“Of course, my love, with all you do!” Fanny answered warmly, fixing on a rose-trimmed hat in front of the shop mirror. “We’ll see about it as soon as I’ve done the accounts this evening.” Then she went out and did not come back until Sophie had shut the shop and taken that day’s hats through to the house to trim.
Sophie at first felt mean to have listened to Martha, but when Fanny did not mention a wage, either that evening or any time later that week, Sophie began to think that Martha had been right.
“Maybe I am being exploited,” she told a hat she was trimming with red silk and a bunch of wax cherries, “but someone has to do this or there will be no hats at all to sell.” She finished that hat and started on a stark black-and-white one, very modish, and a quite new thought came to her. “Does it matter if there are no hats to sell?” she asked it. She looked round at the assembled hats, on stands or waiting in a heap to be trimmed. “What good are you all?” she asked them. “You certainly aren’t doing me a scrap of good.”
And she was within an ace of leaving the house and settling out to seek her fortune, until she remembered she was the eldest and there was no point. She took up the hat again, sighing.
She was still discontented, alone in the shop next morning, when a very plain young woman customer stormed in, whirling a pleated mushroom bonnet by its ribbons. “Look at this!” the young lady shrieked. “You told me this was the same as the bonnet Jane Farrier was wearing when she met the Count. And you lied. Nothing has happened to me at all!”
“I’m not surprised,” Sophie said, before she had caught up with herself. “If you’re fool enough to wear that bonnet with a face like that, you wouldn’t have the wit to spot the King himself if he came a begging- if he hadn’t turned to stone first just at the sight of you.”
The customer glared. Then she threw the bonnet at Sophie and stormed out of the shop. Sophie carefully crammed the bonnet into the wastebasket, panting rather. The rule was : Lose your temper, lose a customer. She had just proven that rule. It troubled her to realize how very enjoyable it had been.
Sophie had no time to recover. There was the sound of wheels and horse hoofs and a carriage darkened the window. The shop bell clanged and the grandest customer she had ever seen sailed in, with a sable wrap drooping from her elbows and diamonds winking all over her dense black dress. Sophie’s eyes went to the lady’s wide hat first- real ostrich plume dyed to reflect the pinks and greens and blues winking in the diamonds and yet still look black. This was a wealthy hat. The lady’s face was carefully beautiful. The chestnut brown hair made her seem young, but…Sophie’s eyes took in the young man who followed the lady in, a slightly formless-faced person with reddish hair, quite well dressed, but pale and obviously upset. He stared at Sophie with a kind of beseeching horror. He was clearly younger than the lady. Sophie was puzzled.


  “Miss Hatter?” the lady asked in a musical but commanding voice.
“Yes,” said Sophie. The man looked more upset than ever. Perhaps the lady was his mother.
“I hear you sell the most heavenly hats,” said the lady. “Show me.”
Sophie did not trust herself to answer in her present mood. She went and got out hats. None of them were in this lady’s class, but she could feel the man’s eyes following her and that made her uncomfortable. The sooner that lady discovered the hats were all wrong for her, the sooner this odd pair would go. She followed Fanny’s advice and got out the wrongest first.
The lady began rejecting hats instantly. “Dimples,” she said to the pink bonnet, and “Youth” to the caterpillar-green one. To the one of twinkles and veils she said, “Mysterious allure. How very obvious. What else have you?”
Sophie got out the modish black-and-white, which was the only hat even remotely likely to interest this lady.
The lady looked at it with contempt. “This one doesn’t do anything for anybody. You’re wasting my time, Miss Hatter.”
“Only because you came in and asked for hats” Sophie said. “This is only a small shop in a small town, Madam. Why did you-“ Behind the lady, the man gasped and seemed to be trying to signal warningly. “- bother to come in?” Sophie finished, wondering what was going on.
“I always bother when someone tries to set themselves up against the Witch of the Waste,” said the lady. “I’ve heard of you, Miss Hatter, and I don’t care for your competition or your attitude. I came to put a stop to you. There.” She spread out her hand in a flinging motion towards Sophie’s face.
“You mean you’re the Witch of the Waste?” Sophie quavered. Her voice seemed to have gone strange with fear and astonishment.
“I am,” said the lady. “And let that teach you to meddle with things that belong to me.”
“I don’t think I did. There must be some mistake,” Sophie croaked. The man was now staring at her in utter horror, though she could not see why.
“No mistake, Miss Hatter,” said the Witch. “Come, Gaston.” She turned and swept to the shop door. While the man was humbly opening it for her, she turned back to Sophie. “By the way, you won’t be able to tell anyone you’re under a spell,” she said. The shop door tolled like a funeral bell as she left.
Sophie put her hands to her face, wondering what the man had stared at. She felt soft, leathery wrinkles. She looked at her hands. They were wrinkled too, and skinny, with large veins in the back and knuckles like knobs. She pulled her gray skirt against her legs and looked down at skinny, decrepit ankles and feet which had made her shoes all knobbly. They were the legs of someone about ninety and they seemed to be real.
Sophie got herself to the mirror, and found she had to hobble. The face in the mirror was quite calm, because it was what she expected to see. It was the face of a gaunt old woman, withered and brownish, surrounded by wispy white hair. Her own eyes, yellow and watery, stared out at her, looking rather tragic.
  “Don’t worry, old thing,” Sophie said to the face. “You look quite healthy. Besides, this is much more like you really are.”
She thought about her situation, quite calmly. Everything seemed to have gone calm and remote. She was not even particularly angry with the Witch of the Waste.
“Well, of course I shall have to do for her when I get the chance,” she told herself, “but meanwhile, if Lettie and Martha can stand being one another, I can stand being like this. But I can’t stay here. Fanny would have a fit. Let’s see. This gray dress is quite suitable, but I shall need my shawl and some food.”
She hobbled over to the shop door and carefully put up the CLOSED notice. Her joints creaked as she moved. She had to walk bowed and slow. But she was relieved to discover that she was quite a hale old woman. She did not feel weak or ill, just stiff. She hobbled to collect her shawl, and wrapped it over her head and shoulders, as old women did. Then she shuffled through into the house, where she collected her purse with a few coins in it and a parcel or bread and cheese. She let herself out of the house, carefully hiding the key in the usual place, and hobbled away down the street, surprised at how calm she still felt.
She did wonder if she should say goodbye to Martha. But she did not like the idea of Martha not knowing her. It was best just to go. Sophie decided she would write to both her sisters when she got wherever she was going, and shuffled on, though the field where the Fair had been, over the bridge, and on into the country lanes beyond. It was a warm spring day. Sophie discovered that being a crone did not stop her from enjoying the sight and smell of may in the hedgerows, though her sight was a little blurred. Her back began to ache. She hobbled sturdily enough, but she needed a stick. She searched the hedges as she went for a loose stake of some kind.
Evidently, her eyes were not as good as they had been. She thought she saw a stick, a mile or so on, but when she hauled on it, it proved to be the bottom end of an old scarecrow someone had thrown into the hedge. Sophie heaved the thing upright. It had a withered turnip for a face. Sophie found she had some fellow feeling for it. Instead of pulling it to pieces and taking the stick, she stuck it between two branches of the hedge, so that it stood looming rakishly above the may, with the tattered sleeves on its stick arms fluttering over the hedge.
“There,” she said, and her crackled old voice surprised her into giving a cracked old cackle of laughter. “Neither of us are up to much, are we, my friend? Maybe you’ll get back to your field if I leave you where people can see you.” She set off up the lane again, but a thought struck her and she turned back. “Now if I wasn’t doomed to failure because of my position in the family,” she told the scarecrow, “you could come to life and offer me help in making my fortune. But I wish you luck anyway.”
She cackled again as she walked on. Perhaps she was a little mad, but old women often were.
She found a stick an hour or so later when she sat down on the bank to rest and eat her bread and cheese. There were noises in the hedge behind her: little strangled squeakings, followed by heavings that shook may petals off the hedge. Sophie crawled on her bony knees to peer past leaves and flowers and thorns into the inside of the hedge, and discovered a thin gray dog in there. It was hopelessly trapped by a stout stick which had somehow got twisted into a rope that was tied around its neck. The stick had wedged itself between two branches on the hedge so that the dog could barely move. It rolled its eyes wildly at Sophie’s peering face.

  As a girl, Sophie was scared of all dogs. Even as an old woman, she was quite alarmed by the two rows of white fangs in the creature’s open jaws. But she said to herself, “The way I am now, it’s scarcely worth worrying about,” and felt in her sewing pocket for her scissors. She reached into the hedge with the scissors and sawed away at the rope around the dog’s neck.
The dog was very wild. It flinched away from her and growled. But Sophie sawed bravely on. “You’ll starve or throttle to death, my friend,” she told the dog in her cracked old voice, “unless you let me cut you loose. In fact, I think someone has tried to throttle you already. Maybe that accounts for your wildness.” The rope had been tied quite tightly around the dog’s neck and the stick had been twisted viciously into it. It took a lot of sawing before the rope parted and the dog was able to drag itself out from under the stick.
“Would you like some bread and cheese?” Sophie asked it then. But the dog growled at her, forced its way out through the opposite side of the hedge, and slunk away. “There’s gratitude for you!” Sophie said, rubbing her prickled arms. “But you left me a gift in spite of yourself.” She pulled the stick that had trapped the dog out of the hedge and found it was a proper walking stick, well trimmed and tipped with iron. Sophie finished her bread and cheese and set off walking again. The lane became steeper and steeper and she found the stick a great help. It was also something to talk to. Sophie thumped along with a will, chatting to her stick. After all, old people often talk to themselves.
“There’s two encounters,” she said, “and not a scrap of magical gratitude from either. Still, you’re a good stick. I’ m not grumbling. But I’m surely due to have a third encounter, magical or not. In fact, I insist on one. I wonder what it will be.”
The third encounter came towards the end of the afternoon when Sophie had worked her way quite high into the hills. A countryman came whistling down the lane toward her. A shepherd, Sophie thought, going home after seeing to his sheep. He was a well-set-up young fellow of forty or so. “Gracious!” Sophie said to herself. “This morning I’d have seen him as an old man. How one’s point of view does alter!”
When the shepherd saw Sophie mumbling to herself, he moved rather carefully over to the other side of the lane and called out with great heartiness, “Good evening to you, Mother! Where are you off to?”
“Mother?” said Sophie. “I’m not your mother, young man!”
“A manner of speaking,” the shepherd said, edging along against the opposite hedge. “I was only meaning a polite inquiry, seeing you walk into the hills at the end of the day. You won’t get down into Upper Folding before nightfall, will you?”
Sophie had not considered this. She stood in the road and thought about it. “It doesn’t matter really,” she said, half to herself. “You can’t be fussy when you’re off to seek your fortune.”
“Can’t you indeed, Mother?” said the shepherd. He had now edged himself downhill of Sophie and seemed to feel better for it. “Then I wish you good luck, Mother, provided your fortune don’t have nothing to do with charming folks’ cattle.” And he took off down the road in great strides, almost running, but not quite.

  
  Sophie stared after him indignantly. “He thought I was a witch!” she said to her stick. She had half a mind to scare the shepherd by shouting nasty things after him, but that seemed a little unkind. She plugged on uphill, mumbling. Shortly, the hedges gave way to bare banks and the land beyond became heathery upland, with a lot of steepness beyond that covered with yellow, rattling grass. Sophie kept grimly on. By now her knobby old feet ached, and her back, and her knees. She became too tired to mumble and simply plugged on, panting, until the sun was quite low. And all at once it became quite clear to Sophie that she could not walk a step further.
She collapsed onto a stone by the wayside, wondering what she would do now. “The only fortune I can think of is a comfortable chair!” she gasped.
The stone proved to be on a sort of headland, which gave Sophie a magnificent view of the way she had come. There was most of the valley spread out beneath her in the setting sun, all fields and walls and hedges, the winding of the river, and the fine mansions of rich people glowing our from clumps of trees, right down to blue mountains in the far distance. Just below her was Market Chipping. Sophie could look down into its well-known streets. There was Market Square and Cesari’s. She could have tossed a stone down the chimney pots of the house next to the hat shop.
“How near it still is!” Sophie told her stick in dismay. “All that walking just to get above my own rooftop!”
It got cold on the stone as the sun went down. An unpleasant wind blew whichever way Sophie turned to avoid it. Now it no longer seemed so unimportant that she would be out on the hills during the night. She found herself thinking more and more of a comfortable chair and a fireside, and also of darkness and wild animals. But if she went back to Market Chipping, it would be the middle of the night before she got there. She might just as well go on. She sighed and stood up, creaking. It was awful. She ached all over.
“I never realized before what old people had to put up with!” she panted as she labored uphill. “Still, I don’t think wolves will eat me. I must be far too dry and tough. That’s one comfort.”
Night was coming down fast now and the heathery uplands were blue-gray. The wind was also sharper. Sophie’s panting and the creaking of her limbs were so loud in her ears that it took her a while to notice that some of the grinding and puffing was not coming from herself at all. She looked up blurrily.
Wizard Howl’s castle was rumbling and bumping toward her across the moorland. Black smoke was blowing up in clouds from behind its black battlements. It looked tall and thin and heavy and ugly and very sinister indeed. Sophie leaned on her stick and watched it. She was not particularly frightened. She wondered how it moved. But the main thing in her mind was that all that smoke must mean a large fireside somewhere inside those tall black walls.
“Well, why not?” she said to her stick. “Wizard Howl is not likely to want my soul for his collection. He only takes young girls.”
She raised her stick and waved it imperiously at the castle.
“Stop!” she shrieked.
The castle obediently came to a rumbling, grinding halt about fifty feet uphill from her. Sophie felt rather gratified as she hobbled toward it.  

    第2章初遇荒地女巫
    “什么？”苏菲直勾勾盯着这个坐在她对面凳子上的女孩，她看起来跟乐蒂一模一样。穿着乐蒂次好的蓝色洋装，那是最适合她的美丽蓝色。她也拥有乐蒂的黑发和蓝眼。
    “我是玛莎。”她妹妹说：“你不是逮到我割破乐蒂的丝绸衬裤吗？我可是不曾跟乐蒂提过这件事喔。你有跟她说吗？”
    “没有，”苏菲惊讶得目瞪口呆。但是现在她看得出来眼前的人确实是玛莎了。脸孔虽是乐蒂的脸孔，但是头微侧一边的姿态却完全是玛莎式的。还有玛莎那抱着膝盖，两个大拇指互绕的招牌动作。
    “为什么？”
    “我一直担心你会跑来看我，”玛莎说：“因为那一来我就必须跟你说实话。但是现在我反而觉得如释重负。答应我，你决不告诉任何人。我知道你一旦答应了就不会说出去，你一直都那么诚实。”
    “我答应你。”苏菲说：“但是，为什么？你又是怎么办到的？”
    “乐蒂跟我一道计划的。”玛莎边说边绕着两个大拇指：“因为乐蒂想学巫术，而我不想学。乐蒂脑子好，她希望以后从事的是需要用脑的工作，但是跟妈妈说这些是没用的。妈妈一直都很嫉妒乐蒂，根本不愿承认她有那个头脑。”
    苏菲无法相信芬妮会是那个样子，但是她不去辩驳，只是接着问：“那你呢？”
    “吃蛋糕啊，”玛莎劝道：“蛮好吃的。噢，是啦，我其实也不苯。我在菲菲克丝太太那儿才两个星期，就找到我们现在用的这个咒语。我半夜悄悄起床，偷读她的书，那书其实蛮容易读的。然后我问她我能不能回家看看家人？她是个好人，以为我想家。于是我带着咒语来到这儿，乐蒂则乔装成我，回到菲菲克丝太太那儿去。第一个星期最困难，因为我很多该知道的事都不知道，情况实在糟透了！但是我发现人们很喜欢我，他们是真心喜欢！你知道吗？如果你真心喜欢别人，他们也会如此待你，而事情就会变得圆满。至于乐蒂，菲菲克丝太太并未将她扫地出门，所以我想她应该是混的不错。”
    苏菲虽然吃着蛋糕，但是食而无味。
    “你们为何会想要这么做？”
    玛莎在凳子上摇晃着，酷似乐蒂的脸笑得非常灿烂，两只粉红色的大拇指快乐地飞绕着。
    “因为我想结婚，想要生十个小孩。”
    “你还不到结婚年龄啊！”苏菲叫道。
    “是还没到，”玛莎倒是同意：“但是你也可以想见，若要生上十个小孩的话，是越早开始越好。这个方法让我有时间观察我想要的人是否因为我的本质而喜欢我，因为咒语会慢慢地消失，我会越来越像回我自己。”
    苏菲实在是太吃惊了！虽然蛋糕都吃下肚了，却压根儿没注意到那到底是什么口味的蛋糕。“为什么是十个小孩？”
    “因为我想要那么多嘛！”玛莎回答道。
    “我从不知道！”
    “你一向跟妈妈同一阵线，认为我注定要成大器什么的，跟你谈也是白谈。”玛莎说：“你把他*的话当一回事，深信不疑。我本来也是的。但是爸爸去世后，我发现她根本只想要摆脱我们——让乐蒂到可以遇到很多男人，可以赶快嫁掉的地方工作。至于我，则送得越远越好。我实在气炸了！我跟乐蒂谈，她也是气的不得了。所以咯，我们就想出这么一个计谋。我们现在蛮好的。但是我们都很为你不平。你既聪明又善良，不应该一辈子被那间店绑着。但是我们虽然讨论了，却不想不出该怎么做。”
    “我没事的，”苏菲抗议道。“只不过日子过得有点无聊。”
    “没事？”玛莎大叫：“没事的话会好几个月都不上我这里来？好不容易出现了，却穿着可怕的灰衣服和灰披肩，好象连我都会让你吓一跳似的。妈妈到底对你干了什么好事？”
    “没有啊，”苏菲不按地回答：“反正我们最近就是很忙。你不应该这样说芬妮的，她可是你亲生的母亲呢！”
    “对！就是因为像她，所以我才那么了解她！”玛莎回嘴道：“这也是为什么她试图将我送得远远的原因。妈妈深谙无需对人残酷却能剥削别人之道。她知道你非常尽责，也知道你一直深信当老大注定要有失败的人生。她就是利用这两点把你吃的死死的，让你为她做牛做马，我敢打赌她根本没付你薪水。”
    “我还只是个学徒。”苏菲抗议道。
    “我也是啊！但我可是有薪水可领的。希赛利知道他们没白付我钱。”玛莎说：“多亏了你，那间店现在可是赚翻了。让市长夫人戴起来年轻的吓人，像女学生般的那顶绿色帽子是你做的吧？”
    “嫩绿色的，是我装饰的没错。”苏菲答道。
    “还有珍法丽儿遇到贵族时戴的那顶无边帽，”玛莎滔滔不绝地往下说：“你是制帽子和衣服的天才！妈妈可清楚的很。你去年五月节帮乐蒂做了那件衣服后，命运就被决定了。现在是你拼了命在赚钱，她却尽在外头闲逛。”
    “她去外头进货啦！”苏菲说。
    “进货！”玛莎大叫。拇指又飞快地轮转起来：“那根本要不了半个早晨的时间。苏菲，我见过她，也听人说过。她乘着雇来的马车，穿着靠你赚来的钱买来的新衣，到山谷区拜访所有的豪宅。人家说她要买那间位于谷端的大房子，要住得气气派派的。你呢？你会在哪儿？”
    “呃，芬妮毕竟曾努力将我们抚养长大，理当享受一下。”苏菲说：“我想……我大概会继承店铺吧。”
    “那样的命运！”玛莎大叫：“你听我说……”
    但是，就在这时候，房间另一头两个空的蛋饼架被拉开，一个学徒探首进来说：“乐蒂，我就猜那是你的声音。”边说边展露出一个在极端友善中又带着调情味儿的微笑。“跟她们说，新货刚刚出炉了。”说完，这颗卷发上沾着些面粉的头又消失了。
    苏菲觉得这个男孩很不错，她想问玛莎那是不是她的意中人？但是却没机会问出口。玛莎匆忙的一跃而起，嘴里仍不停的说着：“我得叫女孩们去把东西搬到店里。你帮我搬那一头。”她将最近的一个架子拉出来，苏菲努力帮她将架子推过房门，到忙碌吵杂的前店里去。
    “苏菲，你必须为自己打算。”玛莎边喘气边叮咛：“乐蒂一直说，没有我们在旁给你打气的话，不知道你会变成什么样子。她的担心的确不是没道理。”
    店里，希赛利太太粗壮的双臂接过她们推来的架子，高声喊着指令，一票人旋即冲过玛莎身旁去推更多的架子。苏菲高声喊再见后，就由这团喧哗中开溜。她不想占用玛莎太多时间。此外，她需要独自一人思考，她一路跑回家。有人开始放烟火，就在河边的广场，原先举办市集的地方。烟火与豪尔巫师城堡射出来的蓝色火焰在天空中争辉，但苏菲的心情却是前所未有的低落。
    接下来那个星期，她大部分的时间都在思索，但是尽管想了又想，却是越想越困惑，不满。事情怎么跟她原来想的都不一样？乐蒂和玛莎真是令人吃惊！这么多年来，她都未能真正了解她们，她更不能相信芬妮会是玛莎说的那种人。
    她有许多时间可以思考，因为贝希结婚去了，大多时间只剩她一个人在店里。芬妮确实经常外出，不管是闲逛或什么的。五月节后生意也淡下来了。三天后，苏菲鼓起勇气问芬妮：“你是不是该付我一些薪水？”
    “亲爱的，那是当然咯，你做了那么多事！”芬妮边对着店里的镜子调整了一顶镶有玫瑰的帽子，一边亲切地回答：“等我今晚算过帐后再来决定。”说完她就出门去了。一直到苏菲关了店，把那天没做完的帽子都拿回家继续做，她才回来。
    起先当玛莎那样说芬妮时，她觉得光是听都不太应该。但是，当那一晚，甚至接下来整个星期芬妮提都不提薪水的事时，苏菲开始觉得玛莎说的没错。
    “也许我真是被剥削了。”她正以红色断代和一大串蜡制樱桃在装饰一顶帽子。她跟帽子说：“但是事情总得有人来做，不是吗？不然就没帽子可卖了。”她弄好那顶帽子后，开始弄另一顶漆黑、间杂着白色的帽子，很流行的样式。突然，一个不曾有过的念头闪进心头。
    “真没帽子可卖的话又怎么样呢？”她问帽子。她还目四顾，看那些已装饰好挂在架子上的，以及堆积在一块等着被装饰的帽子们。“你们有什么好的？”她问它们：“你们根本不曾给我带来半点好处！”
    就在她差点要离家出走去闯荡天下时，她突然想起自己是家里的老大，再怎么挣扎都是徒劳无功，就泄了气，拿起帽子边缝边叹气。
    第二天早上，她独自一人在店里时，心里仍充满着不满的情绪。有位其貌不扬的年轻女子突然冲进店来，手里转着一顶打有蘑菇色褶子的女帽。“你给我好好看看！”她尖叫着：“你跟我说这跟珍法丽儿和男爵见面时戴的帽子一样。你骗我！它并未带给我任何好运！”
    “我一点都不觉得惊讶！”苏菲一句话冲口而出：“如果你会愚蠢到拿那顶帽子来配你那张脸的话，就是国王来到你跟前求婚，你都会认不出他的。不过我想他光看到你，就会先吓得变成石头了！”
    那顾客一时目瞪口呆。接着她将帽子用力掷向苏菲，冲出店外。苏菲边喘着气边将帽子小心仔细地塞到垃圾桶里。生意人的铁律是：脾气失控，顾客失踪。她刚刚证明了这条铁律正确无误。令她不安的是，她发现这样做居然另她痛快无比！
    但是她还没来得及让心情平复下来，店门口就传来一阵车轮及马蹄声，马车的车身挡住了窗前的阳光。店门口悬挂的铃铛叮当作响，一位她这辈子不曾见过的、华丽无比的客人趾高气扬地走进店里。黑貂皮披肩由手肘垂坠下来，深黑色的衣服上缀满钻石，一闪一闪的。
    苏菲的视线先飘向她的宽边帽——那是真正的鸵鸟毛，经过染色，与衣服上闪烁着粉红色、绿色及蓝色的钻石相辉映，但看起来偏偏还是黑色！这顶帽子可是价值不菲哪！
    这位女士的脸修饰得很美丽。栗子色的头发让她看起来较为年轻，但是呢……苏菲注意到跟着这位女士走进来的年轻男子，这人脸的轮廓不甚明显，一头红发，穿着入时，但脸色苍白且透着不悦。
    他直勾勾地看着苏菲，眼中带着恳求与恐惧。他显然比这位女士年轻许多。苏菲觉得十分困惑。
    “海特小姐吗？”这女人悦耳的声音透着权威。
    “是的，”苏菲答道。那位男士的脸看起来更加不快乐了。也许这女人是他妈妈？苏菲想着。
    “我听说你在卖最能令人幸福的帽子。”那女人说：“让我看看。”
    苏菲不太确定以她现在的心情会说出什么样的话来，就直接进去拿帽子出来给她看。这些都不是她那种身份的人会买的，但是苏菲可以感觉到那男人的眼光一直跟着她，这令她非常不舒服。等这个女人发现这些帽子都不合她意之后，这对奇怪的男女就会马上离开了。她依照芬妮教过她的推销方法，先拿最不适合的给她。
    这女人马上开始批评。“酒窝！”她对粉红色的无边帽说。“青春呢！”她看着嫩绿色的帽子说。至于有亮片及面纱的那顶，她说是：“神秘的迷人风采。这么明显的事！还有没有别的？”
    苏菲拿出那顶漆黑、间杂有白色的帽子。这是唯一有一点点可能会让她看上眼的。但是那女人眼中透着轻蔑：“这顶不会带给任何人任何东西！海特小姐，我看你是在浪费我的时间！”
    “是你自己跑进来要看帽子的！”苏菲顶她：“夫人，我们不过是小镇上的一家小店，你干嘛——”那女人身后的男士倒吸了一口气，似乎想警告她些什么。“自己眼巴巴地跑来！”苏菲把句子说完，心里想着：接下来呢？
    “当有人想跟荒地女巫竞争时我就会跑来！”那女人说：“海特小姐，我听人谈起你，我不喜欢你跟我竞争，我也不喜欢你的态度。我是来阻止你的。来！”她伸出一只手，对苏菲的脸做了一个抛掷的动作。
    “你是说，你是荒地女巫？”苏菲颤声问道，声音因害怕与惊讶而变的很奇怪。
    “没错，”那女人回答道：“这是给你的教训，看你还敢不敢捞过界，侵犯到我的领域。”
    “我没有啊！你一定是搞错了。”苏菲哑着声音抗议。那个男子紧瞪着她的眼神中露出非常恐怖的神情，苏菲不明白他为何会这样。
    “错不了的，海特小姐。”女巫说：“格斯顿，咱们走。”她转身往店门走去。
    格斯顿很恭谨的为她开门，她突然转过身跟苏菲说：“还有，你将无法告诉别人你受了诅咒。”说完就走了，门上的铃铛在她走后仍响个不停，彷若葬礼上的丧钟。
    苏菲想知道那男人到底看到了什么？她伸出双手往脸上摸去，摸到的是柔软像皮革似的皱纹。她低头看手，手也同样布满皱纹，而且瘦瘦的，手背上满是隆起的青筋，指关节也变得很粗大。她把灰裙子提高，看自己的脚。足踝和脚都又瘦又老，这让鞋子看起来像长了疙瘩似的，它们看起来就像九十岁老太太的脚，偏又那么真实！
    苏菲往镜子走去，却发现自己脚步蹒跚。但是，镜中的脸倒是显得很沉着，因为她告诉自己一定要镇定。那是一张被白发包围，瘦削的老妇的脸，脸色憔悴而枯黄。眼睛则黄黄的、水汪汪的瞪着她瞧，看来十分可怜。
    “别担心，老家伙，”苏菲对镜中的脸说：“你看来挺健康的。何况，这不是更接近真实的你吗？”
    她很镇定地思索自己的处境，所有一切似乎都变得平静而遥远，她甚至不怎么生荒地女巫的气。
    “当然啦，有机会的话我还是要报复的，”她跟自己这么说。“但是就目前而言，如果乐蒂和玛莎可以忍受变成对方来生活，我当然也可以忍受自己变成这个样子。不过，我不能待在这里，芬妮会吓坏的。让我想想，这件灰色洋装还挺合适的。不过我还需要我的披肩跟一些食物。”
    她蹒跚地走到店门口，小心地放上『本店关门』的牌子。当她移动时，全身关节都嘎嘎作响。她必须弯着腰，慢慢行走。但是她发现自己其实还蛮强健的，因此安心不少。她并不觉得衰弱或有病痛，只是觉得浑身僵硬。她蹒跚地走过去拿起披肩，学着老妇人一般，将头和肩膀都包了起来，然后慢慢走会家里，将只放有几个铜板的钱包和面包、乳酪等一起打包。她走出房门，将钥匙藏在平日的藏匿地点，就沿着街道蹒跚地走下去，连自己都惊讶心情竟能如此平静！
    她考虑过是否要跟玛莎道别，但她想到玛莎若认不出她，她心里大概会很不舒服，所以，就这么离开应该是最好的，她决定等确定自己的居留处后再给两位妹妹写信。她就是这么走着，通过举办市集的草地，越过桥，往乡村道路走去。那是一个温暖的春天。苏菲发现，即使变成老太婆，还是可以欣赏景色，并享受灌木树篱里飘来的春日芳香。虽然景色看来可能稍稍模糊了些。走着走着，她的背开始发痛。她虽然可以走得不错，但还是需要一根拐杖。她在灌木丛里搜寻，希望能找到像是松脱的棍状物之类的东西。
    她的眼力显然不大如前。走了约莫一哩路后，她以为自己看到了一根木棍。但是当她弯身去拉的时候，却发现那其实是一个被扔到树丛里的，旧稻草人的剩余部分。苏菲将它立起来，它的脸是一个枯萎的萝卜。苏菲觉得它蛮可怜的，所以，不仅没将它拆开来，取它的身体为拐杖，反而将它立在树篱的两根枝干之间，让它隐隐约约潇洒地站在山楂花之间，两只破旧的袖子则在树篱上方随风飞扬。
    “好了！”她跟稻草人说，但随即被自己沙哑苍老的声音吓了一跳，发出一串苍老的笑声。“朋友，我们两个好象都不怎么成材啊！像这样让别人能看见你，也许你还有机会回到田里去。”说完她就上路了。
    但是走没几步，她突然想到什么，停下脚步，转身对稻草人说：“要不是因为我身为家里的老大而注定要有个失败人生的话，你就可以活过来，帮忙我赚大钱了。总之，祝你好运呀。”
    她边走边咯咯笑。或许她有些不正常吧？但老女人不常都是这个样子的吗？
    约一小时后，她在河岸边坐下来休息吃面包和乳酪时，找到了一根拐杖。她先是听到身后的树篱里有狗吠声，声音很奇怪：先是仿佛要窒息般的细声尖叫，接着是剧烈到足以摇落山楂花花瓣的喘息声。苏菲在地上匍匐前行，试着在落叶、花朵与荆棘的间隙间，寻找来自树篱深处声音的来源。最后终于给她看到一只瘦瘦的灰狗，很无助地陷在那里。它脖子上绑着绳子，但是不知为什么，有一根强韧的枯枝居然和这绳子卷在一起。枯枝的两端各卡在旁边的树干上，这只狗因此动弹不得。看到苏菲的脸时，它只能拼命地转动它的眼睛。
    从小苏菲就怕狗，各种各类的狗。即使变成了老妇人，看到那家伙张开的嘴里两排白森森的狗牙，还是令她非常紧张的，但她一再告诉自己：“人都变成这副模样了，还有什么好担忧的！”便伸手到缝纫盒里摸出剪刀，探手到树篱里，开始去锯那只狗脖子上的绳子。
    那只狗很狂野，忙着避开她不说，还咆哮着，但苏菲勇敢地继续锯下去。“除非你让我将这绳子锯开，”她以沙哑苍老的声音跟狗说：“不然哪，你不是会饿死就是会窒息而死。依我看来，是有人存心要让你窒息而死。是因为这样你才对我这么凶吗？”绳子缚得很紧，枯枝更是恶毒地紧紧缠绕住绳子，苏菲花了好大的工夫才将绳子锯断，让狗可以由枯枝挣脱出来。
    “你要吃点面包跟乳酪吗？”苏菲问它，但那狗对着她咆哮，由树篱另一边挤出去，一溜烟跑了。
    “你可真懂得感激呀！”苏菲叹口气，揉揉自己酸痛的手臂。“不过你无意间到是给我留下了一份礼物啊。”她将那支卡住狗的枯枝由树篱里拉出来，发现拿来当拐杖正好。杖身经过修饰，顶端还镶了铁。她吃过面包和乳酪之后，再度上路。路越来越陡峭。她发现这根拐杖还挺有用的。它还可以是谈话的对象哩！苏菲边用力地执杖而行，边跟她的拐杖说话。反正，老年人常会自言自语。
    “到目前为止我遭逢了两桩事件，”她说：“两个对象都没半句感谢的话。不过，你可真是根好拐杖！不是我爱发牢骚，事不过三嘛，一定会有第三次的，神不神奇且不去管他，反正，一定要再来一次，这点我很坚持。不过，不知道会是什么样的事喔。”
    第三桩遭遇发生在近傍晚的时候，当时苏菲已走到山岗上相当高的地方了，一个乡下人吹着口哨朝她走下来。这是个牧羊人，苏菲想着，把羊安顿好后要下山回家了。这年轻人看来不过四十上下，经济似乎颇宽裕。“天哪！”苏菲自言自语道：“如果我是今天早上看到他的话，我一定觉得他很老。人的看法怎会变这么快！”
    那牧羊人看到苏菲在自言自语时，马上很小心地移到小路的另一边行走，同时非常热情地打招呼：“大妈，晚安啊。您上哪儿去呀？”
    “大妈？”苏菲斥道：“年轻人，我可不是你妈妈！”
    “不过是一种措辞嘛。”牧羊人边说边贴着另一边的树篱行走：“看到您日头都快下山了还往山上走，客气地问候您一下罢了。您不会想在天黑前赶到上福而丁去吧？”
    苏菲压根儿没想过这个问题。她停在路上思考。“真的无所谓，”她回道，其实有一半是说给自己听的。“既然要外出赚钱，就不能太挑剔。”
    “是嘛，大妈，”牧羊人现在已通过苏菲往下走了，他很明显地松了一口气。
    “那么，祝您好运。希望您用以赚钱的方式不包括对人们的牲畜下咒。”说完他就大踏步，几乎是用跑的快快下山去了。
    苏菲没好气地瞪着他的背影。“他以为我是女巫呢！”她跟拐杖抱怨。她很想对着那牧羊的背后喊些坏话，故意吓吓他，不过那样似乎太坏心肠了些。她继续往上走，同时自顾自的说着话。不久，树篱消失了，出现在眼前的是光秃的堤岸，再往前是石楠丛生的高地，而再过去，走上一大段陡峭的山路后是一片草地，覆盖着黄色的草，被风吹得沙沙作响。苏菲绷着脸继续前进。她瘦骨嶙峋的脚痛着，背和膝盖也都吃不消。她累得无法再自言自语，只是继续走着，喘着气。知道太阳快沉到地平线下了，她才突然发现，她连再走一步的力气也没有了。
    她瘫在路边的石头上，想着接下来该怎么办。她喘着气说：“我唯一能想到的财富，是一张舒服的椅子！”
    那块石头恰好位在突起的高地上，苏菲因此可以清楚俯瞰她来时的路径，大部分的山谷尽收眼底。她可以俯瞰那映照在夕阳余辉下的山谷、田野、墙垣与树篱、蜿蜒的河流，还有富裕人家的豪宅由树丛间鲜明地突显出来，还可以一路远眺到远处的蓝色山脉。在她的正底下是马克奇平镇。苏菲可以清楚看到它著名的街道，还有方形市场和希赛利糕饼店。她甚至可以瞄准位于帽店旁，家里的那根烟囱，仍颗石头下去。
    “怎么还这么近！”她不悦地跟拐杖抱怨：“走了那么多路，结果不过走到自家的屋顶而已。”
    太阳下山后，石头开始变冷。还有一股令人不舒服的冷风，不论苏菲转到哪个方向都躲不开它。现在，‘在外头露天过夜’看来不再是毫不重要的问题了，她的思绪越来越被一把舒服的椅子、火炉旁、黑暗、野兽等事占据，但是她若要回马克奇平镇的话，起码要走到半夜才能走到。所以，最好还是往前走吧！她叹口气，站起来，全身都嘎嘎作响，实在糟透了！她全身都在痛。
    “我以前从不知道老年人必须忍受些什么。”她一边吃力地往上走一边叹气：“不过，我想野狼不会吃我的。对它们而言，我是太干太硬了！这点蛮另人安慰的。”
    夜降临得很快，石楠丛生的高地成为蓝灰色，风更锐利了。苏菲的喘息声和四肢骨头嘎嘎响的声音，听在她自己耳朵里只觉得震天介响。因此，过了好一会儿她才注意到，她所听到的喘息与嘎嘎声，有一部分其实是出自别出。她实现模糊地往上看。
    豪尔巫师的城堡正越过荒地，颠簸地对着她隆隆飞来。黑烟从后头黑色的城垛往上喷出，成朵朵黑云。整座城堡看来又高又瘦，很重很丑陋，而且带着邪气。苏菲倚着拐杖看着，她并不怎么觉得害怕，只是奇怪它是怎么移动的。更重要的是，她脑袋里想着：有烟就有火，这么多的烟就表示，那高高的黑色城墙之后藏有熊熊的烈火。
    “咦，那有什么不可以？”她跟拐杖说：“豪尔巫师应该不会想要收集我的灵魂的！他只要年轻女孩的呀。”
    她举起拐杖，对着城堡急切地挥舞。尖叫道：“停下来！”
    城堡依言，在离她五十尺处的高地轰隆隆地停下来了。苏菲对着他蹒跚走去，心中满是喜悦。
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Chapter 3 Sophie enters into a castle and a bargain
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.
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.
“Open up!” Sophie cackled at it.
That made no difference to the wall.
“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.
There was a barrier over that door too.
Sophie glowered at it. “I call that very unwelcoming!” she said.
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.
“The back door at last!” Sophie said.
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.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Sophie shouted. She ran after the door and hit it violently with her stick. “Open up!” she yelled.
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.
“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.

  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.
“Don’t you have the impudence to shut the door on me, my boy!” she said.
“I wasn’t going to, but you’re keeping the door open,” he protested. “What do you want?”
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.
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.
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.”
“The castle’s bespelled to hold together,” the boy said. “But I’m afraid Howl’s not here just at the moment.”
This was good news to Sophie. “When will he be back?” she asked a little nervously.
“Probably not till tomorrow now,” the boy said. “What do you want? Can I help you instead? I’m Howl’s apprentice, Michael.”
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.
“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.

  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!
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?”
“I wouldn’t have let her come in if she was,” the fireplace retorted.
Michael shrugged and picked Sophie’s stick politely up again.
Then he put a log on the fire with equal politeness and went away to bed somewhere overhead.
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.
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.

  
  “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.”
“Don’t you want your heart eaten?” asked the fire.
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?”
“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.”
This roused Sophie from her dreamlike state. “You see!” she exclaimed. “Can you take the spell off?”
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.”
“It is,” said Sophie.
“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.
“How long will that take?” Sophie asked.
“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.”
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.
“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.”

  
  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?”
“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.”
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.
“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.”
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?”
An eager purple grin spread across the demon’s blue face. “You agree to a bargain?”
“If you agree to break the spell on me,” Sophie said, with a brave sense of saying something fatal.
“Done!” cried the demon, his long face leaping gleefully up the chimney. “I’ll break your spell the very instant you break my contract!”
“Then tell me how I break your contract,” Sophie said.
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.”
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.
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!”
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.
“Only about a month. Remember, I have to study your spell too,” the demon pleaded.
“But what possible excuse can I give for doing that?” Sophie asked.
“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.”
“Very well,” Sophie said. “I’ll stay. Now find an excuse.”
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…..  

    第3章黑色的城堡
    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。
    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。
    “开门！”苏菲对着它大叫。
    但是门一点也不甩她。
    “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。
    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。
    但是那扇门外头同样设了屏障。
    苏菲对它怒目而视：“这未免太不友善了！”
    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。
    “总算给我找到后门了！”苏菲说。
    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。
    “不准走！”苏菲大叫。她追着门跑，拿拐杖用力敲，同时大叫：“开门！”
    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。
    “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。
    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。
    “少年，想赶我出去？有胆量你就给我试试看！”她嘶声地说。
    “我没有啊！可是你不能一直让门开着。”他抗议道：“你要什么？”
    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。
    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。
    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。
    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。”
    “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。”
    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。
    “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。”
    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。”
    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。
    “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。
    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。
    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。
    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！
    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。
    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？”
    “如果她是的话，我就不会放她进来了。”炉火回嘴道。
    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。
    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。
    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。
    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！
    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。
    “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。
    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。
    “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。”
    “你不想心被吃掉吗？”火问她。
    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。
    “当然不想！”苏菲答道。“你是什么玩意儿？”
    “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。”
    苏菲整个人一下清醒过来，叫道：“你看得出来？你能解除它吗？”
    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。”
    “没错。”苏菲说。
    “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。”
    “得研究多久？”苏菲问。
    “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。”
    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！
    “你确定你说的都是实话？”她问道。
    “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？”
    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？”
    “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！”
    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。
    “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。”
    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？”
    火魔的蓝脸展开一个热切的紫色咧笑。“你同意跟我交易？”
    “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。
    “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。”
    “那么，告诉我如何解除你的契约？”苏菲问它。
    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。”
    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！”
    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！”
    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。
    “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。
    “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。
    “那我也得有借口留下来呀！”苏菲说。
    “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。”
    “好吧，”苏菲说：“我就留下来吧。现在，还得赶快想借口。”
    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。
    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。
    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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Chapter 4 Sophie discovers several strange things
When Sophie woke up, daylight was streaming across her. Since Sophie remembered no windows at all in the castle, her first notion was that she had fallen asleep trimming hats and dreamed of leaving home. The fire in front of her had sunk to rosy charcoal and white ash, which convinced her that she had certainly dreamed there was a fire demon. But her very first movements told her that there were some things she had not dreamed. There were sharp cracks from all over her body.
“Ow!” she exclaimed. “I ache all over!” The voice that exclaimed was a weak, cracked piping. She put her knobby hands to her face and felt wrinkles. At that, she discovered she had been in a state of shock all yesterday. She was very angry indeed with the Witch of the Waste for doing this to her, hugely, enormously angry. “Sailing into shops and turning people old!” she exclaimed. “Oh, what I won’t do to her!”
Her anger made her jump up in a salvo of cracks and creaks and hobble over to the unexpected window. It was above the workbench. To her utter astonishment, the view from it was a view of a dockside town. She could see a sloping, unpaved street, lined with small, rather poor-looking houses, and masts sticking up beyond the roofs. Beyond the masts she caught a glimmer of the sea, which was something she had never seen in her life before.
“Wherever am I?” Sophie asked the skull standing on the bench. “I don’t expect you to answer that, my friend,” she added hastily, remembering this was a wizard’s castle, and she turned round to take a look at the room.
It was quite a small room, with heavy black beams in the ceiling. By daylight it was amazingly dirty. The stones of the floor were stained and greasy, ash was piled within the fender, and cobwebs hung in dusty droops from the beams. There was a layer of dust on the skull. Sophie absently wiped it off as she went to peer into the sink beside the workbench. She shuddered at the pink-and-gray slime in it and the white slime dripping from the pump above it. Howl obviously did not care what squalor his servants lived in.
The rest of the castle seemed to be beyond one or the other of the four low black doors around the room. Sophie opened the nearest, in the end wall beyond the bench. There was a large bathroom beyond it. In some ways it was a bathroom you might find normally only in a palace, full of luxuries such as an indoor toilet, a shower stall, an immense bath with clawed feet, and mirrors on every wall. But it was even dirtier than the other room. Sophie winced form the toilet, flinched at the color of the bath, recoiled form the green weed growing in the shower, and quite easily avoided looking at her shriveled shape in the mirrors because the glass was plastered with blobs and runnels of nameless substances. The nameless substances themselves were crowded onto a very large shelf over the bath. They were in jars, boxes, tubes, and hundreds of tattered brown packets and paper bags. The biggest jar had a name. It was called DRYING POWER in crooked letters. Sophie was not sure whether there should be a D in that or not. She picked up a packet at random. It had SKIN scrawled on it, and she put it back hurriedly. Another jar said EYES in the same scrawl. A tube stated FOR DECAY.

  
  “It seems to work too,” Sophie murmured, looking into the washbasin with a shiver. Water ran into the basin when she turned a blue-green knob that might have been brass and washed some of the decay away. Sophie rinsed her hands and face in the water without touching the basin, but she did not have the courage to use DRYING POWER. She dried the water with her skirt and then set off to the next black door.
That one opened onto a flight of rickety wooden stairs, Sophie heard someone move up there and shut the door hurriedly. It seemed only to lead to a sort of loft anyway. She hobbled to the next door. By now she was moving quite easily. She was a hale old woman, as she discovered yesterday.
The third door opened onto a poky backyard with high brick walls. It contained a big stack of logs, and higgledy-piggledy heaps of what seemed to be scrap iron, wheels, buckets, metal sheeting, wire, mounded almost to the tops of the walls. Sophie shut that door too, rather puzzled, because it did not seem to match the castle at all. There was no castle to be seen above the brick walls. They ended at the sky. Sophie could only think that this part was the round side where the invisible wall had stopped her the night before.
She opened the fourth door and it was just a broom cupboard, with two fine but dusty velvet cloaks hanging on the brooms. Sophie shut it again, slowly. The only other door was in the wall with the window, and that was the door she had come in by last night. She hobbled over and cautiously opened that.
She stood for a moment looking out at a slowly moving view of the hills, watching heather slide past underneath the door, feeling the wind blow her wispy hair, and listening to the rumble and grind of the big black stones as the castle moved. Then she shut the door and went to the window. And there was the seaport town again. It was no picture. A woman had opened a door opposite and was sweeping dust into the street. Behind that house a grayish canvas sail was going up a mast in brisk jerks, disturbing a flock of seagulls into flying round and round against the glimmering sea.
“I don’t understand,” Sophie told the human skull. Then, because the fire looked almost out, she went and put on a couple of logs and raked away some of the ash.
Green flames climbed between the logs, small and curly, and shot up into a long blue face with flaming green hair. “Good morning,” said the fire demon. “Don’t forget we have a bargain.”
So none of it was dream. Sophie was not much given to crying, but she said in the chair for quite a while staring at a blurred and sliding fire demon, and did not pay much attention to the sounds of Michael getting up, until she found him standing beside her, looking embarrassed and a little exasperated.
“You’re still here,” he said. “Is something the matter?”
Sophie sniffed. “I’m old,” she began.
But it was just as the Witch had said and the fire demon had guessed. Michael said cheerfully, “Well, it comes to us all in time. Would you like some breakfast?”
Sophie discovered she was a very hale old woman indeed. After only bread and cheese at lunchtime yesterday, she was ravenous. “Yes!” she said, and when Michael went to the closet in the wall, she sprang up and peered over his shoulder to see what there was to eat.

  
  “I’m afraid there’s only bread and cheese,” Michael said rather stiffly.
“But there’s a whole basket of eggs in there!” Sophie said. “And isn’t that bacon? What about a hot drink as well? Where’s your kettle?”
“There isn’t one,” Michael said. “Howl’s the only one who can cook.”
“I can cook,” said Sophie. “Unhook that frying pan and I’ll show you.”
She reached for the large black pan hanging on the closet wall, in spite of Michael trying to prevent her. “You don’t understand,” Michael said. “It’s Calcifer, the fire demon. He won’t bend down his head to be cooked on for anyone but Howl.”
Sophie turned and looked at the fire demon. He flickered back at her wickedly. “I refuse to be exploited,” he said.
“You mean,” Sophie said to Michael, “that you have to do without even a hot drink unless Howl’s here?” Michael gave an embarrassed nod. “Then you’re the one that’s being exploited!” said Sophie. “Give that here.” She wrenched the pan from Michael’s resisting fingers, plonked the bacon into it, popped a handy wooden spoon into the egg basket, and marched with the lot to the fireplace. “Now, Calcifer,” she said, “let’s have no more nonsense. Bend down your head.”
“You can’t make me!” crackled the fire demon.
“Oh, yes I can!” Sophie crackled back, with the ferocity that had often stopped both her sisters in mid-fight. “If you don’t, I shall pour water on you. Or I shall pick up the tongs and take away both your logs,” she added, as she got herself creaking onto her knees by the hearth. There she whispered, “Or I can go back on our bargain, or tell Howl about it, can’t I?”
“Oh, curses!” Calcifer spat. “Why did you let her in here, Michael?” Sulkily he bent his blue face forward until all that could be seen of him was a ring of curly green flames dancing on the logs.
“Thank you,” Sophie said, and slapped the heavy pan onto the green ring to make sure Calcifer did not suddenly rise up again.
“I hope your bacon burns,” Calcifer said, muffled under the pan.
Sophie slapped slices of bacon into the pan. It was good and hot. The bacon sizzled, and she had to wrap her skirt round her hand to hold the handle. The door opened, but she did not notice because of the sizzling. “Don’t be silly,” she told Calcifer. “And hold still because I want to break in the eggs.”
“Oh, hello, Howl,” Michael said helplessly.
Sophie turned round at that, rather hurriedly. She stared. The tall young fellow in a flamboyant blue-and-silver suit who had just come in stopped in the act of leaning a guitar in the corner. He brushed the fair hair from his rather curious glass-green eyes and stared back. His long, angular face was perplexed.
“Who on earth are you?” said Howl. “Where have I seen you before?”
“I am a total stranger,” Sophie lied firmly. After all, Howl had only met her long enough to call her a mouse before, so it was almost true. She ought to have been thanking her stars for the lucky escape she’d had then, she supposed, but in fact her main thought was, Good gracious! Wizard Howl is only a child in his twenties, for all his wickedness! It made such a difference to be old, she thought as she turned the bacon over in the pan. And she would have died rather than let this overdressed boy know she was the girl he had pitied on May Day. Hearts and souls did not enter into it. Howl was not going to know.


  “She says her name’s Sophie,” Michael said. “She came last night.”
“How did she make Calcifer bend down?” said Howl.
“She bullied me!” Calcifer said in a piteous, muffled voice from under the sizzling pan.
“Not many people can do that,” Howl said thoughtfully. He popped his guitar in the corner and came over to the hearth. The smell of hyacinths mixed with the smell of bacon as he shoved Sophie firmly aside. “Calcifer doesn’t like anyone but me to cook on him,” he said, kneeling down and wrapping one trailing sleeve round his hand to hold the pan. “Pass me two more slices of bacon and six eggs please, and tell me why you’ve come here.”
Sophie stared at the blue jewel hanging from Howl’s ear and passed him egg after egg. “Why I came, young man?” she said. It was obvious after what she had seen of the castle. “I came because I’m your new cleaning lady, of course.”
“Are you indeed?” Howl said, cracking the eggs one-handed and tossing the shells among the logs, where Calcifer seemed to be eating them with a lot of snarling and gobbling. “Who says you are?”
“I do,” said Sophie, and she added piously, “I can clean the dirt from this place even if I can’t clean you from your wickedness, young man.”
“Howl’s not wicked,” Michael said.
“Yes I am,” Howl contradicted him. “You forget just how wicked I’m being at the moment, Michael.” He jerked his chin at Sophie. “It you‘re so anxious to be of use, my good woman, find some knives and forks and clear the bench.”
There were tall stools under the workbench. Michael was pulling them out to sit on and pushing aside all the things on top of it to make room for some knives and forks he had taken from the drawer in the side of it. Sophie went to help him. She had not expected Howl to welcome her, of course, but he had not even so far agreed to let her stay beyond breakfast. Since Michael did not seem to need help, Sophie shuffled over to her stick and put it slowly and showily in the broom cupboard. When that did not seem to attract Howl’s attention, she said, “You can take me on for a month’s trial, if you like.”
Wizard Howl said nothing but “Plates, please, Michael,” and stood up holding the smoking pan. Calcifer sprang up with a roar of relief and blazed high in the chimney.
Sophie made another attempt to pin the Wizard down. “If I’m going to be cleaning here for the next month,” she said, “I’d like to know where the rest of the castle is. I can only find this one room and the bathroom.”
To her surprise, both Michael and the Wizard roared with laughter.
It was not until they had almost finished breakfast that Sophie discovered what made them laugh. Howl was not only hard to pin down. He seemed to dislike answering any questions at all. Sophie gave up asking him and asked Michael instead.
“Tell her,” said Howl. ‘It will stop her pestering.”
“There isn’t any more of the castle,” Michael said, “except what you’ve seen and two bedrooms upstairs.”
“What?” Sophie exclaimed.
Howl and Michael laughed again. “Howl and Calcifer invented the castle,” Michael explained, “and Calcifer keeps it going. The inside of it is really just Howl’s old house in Porthaven, which is the only real part.”

  “But Porthaven’s miles down near the sea!” Sophie said. “I call that too bad! What do you mean by having this great, ugly castle rushing about the hills and frightening everyone in Market Chipping to death?”
Howl shrugged. “What an outspoken old woman you are! I’ve reached that stage in my career when I need to impress everyone with my power and wickedness. I can’t have the King thinking well of me. And last year I offended someone very powerful and I need to keep out of their way.”
It seemed a funny way to avoid someone, but Sophie supposed wizards had different standards from ordinary people. And she shortly discovered that the castle had other peculiarities. They had finished eating and Michael was piling the plates on the slimy sink beside the bench when there came a loud, hollow knocking at the door.
Calcifer blazed up. “Kingsbury door!”
Howl, who was on his way to the bathroom, went to the door instead. There was a square wooden knob above the door, set into the lintel, with a dab of paint on each of its four sides. At that moment, there was a green blob on the side that was the bottom, but Howl turned the knob around so that it had a red blob downward before he opened the door.
Outside stood a personage wearing a stiff white wig and a wide hat on top of that. He was clothed in scarlet and purple and gold, and he held up a little staff decorated with ribbons like an infant maypole. He bowed. Scents of cloves and orange blossom blew into the room.
“His Majesty the King presents his compliments and sends payment for two thousand pair of seven-league boots,” this person said.
Behind him Sophie had glimpses of a coach waiting in a street full of sumptuous houses covered with painted carvings, and towers and spires and domes beyond that, of a splendor she had barely before imagined. She was sorry it took so little time for the person at the door to hand over a long, silken, chinking purse, and for Howl to take the purse, bow back, and shut the door. Howl turned the square knob back so that the green blob was downward again and stowed the long purse in his pocket. Sophie saw Michael’s eyes follow the purse in an urgent, worried way.
Howl went straight to the bathroom then, calling out, “I need hot water in here, Calcifer!” and was gone for a long, long time.
Sophie could not restrain her curiosity. “Whoever was that at the door?” she asked Michael. “Or do I mean wherever?”
“That door gives on Kingsbury,” Michael said, “where the King lives. I think that man was the Chancellor’s clerk. And,” he added worriedly to Calcifer, “I do wish he hadn’t given Howl all that money.”
“Is Howl going to let me stay here?” Sophie asked.
“If he is, you’ll never pin him down,” Michael answered. “He hates being pinned down to anything.”  

第4章 迷样的巫师
    苏菲决定，她唯一能做的就是表现给豪尔看，让他见识一下她是个多么出色、难能可贵的清洁工！她把稀疏的白发用一块旧破布绑起来，卷起袖子露出两条瘦巴巴的老手臂，然后，由储物柜里找来一条旧桌布，围在身上当围裙。她拿起一个水桶和扫帚，开始工作。
    “你在干什么？”麦可和卡西法异口同声以一种吓坏了的语气问道。
    “打扫啊，”苏菲坚定地回答。“这地方实在脏得不能见人。”
    卡西法说：“并不需要。”麦可则喃喃地说：“豪尔会把你踢出去的。”但是苏菲不理他们，灰尘如云如雾般涌起。
    就在这时，又有一阵敲门声响起。卡西法燃旺火焰叫道：“避难港的门。”说完打了好大一个嘶嘶作响的喷嚏，紫色的火星透过灰尘的云雾四散出来。
    麦可离开工作台走到门边。苏菲透过她造成的灰尘偷看，这次麦可将门把转到蓝色向下，然后打开门，外面就是她在窗子里看到的街景。
    一个小女孩站在那里。“费雪先生，拜托，”她说：“我替我妈妈来拿那个咒语。”
    “你爸爸的船要用的安全咒是吧？”麦可说：“马上好。”他回到工作台，由架上取下一个瓶子，将里头的粉倒在一张方型纸上。他忙着弄咒语时，小女孩好奇地往屋里瞧，看着苏菲，苏菲也好奇地看着她。麦可将包着粉的纸扭了几下，走回来，跟小女孩交代道：“跟妈妈说沿着船洒，可以保护船来回一趟的安全，就算遇上暴风雨也没问题。”
    女孩拿过纸包后，递给麦可一个铜板。接着问道：“魔法师请了一个女巫来帮忙吗？”
    “没有。”麦可说。
    “你是说我吗？”苏菲回叫道：“哦，是的，孩子。我是印格利国最棒、最干净的女巫。”
    麦可把门关上，看来很生气。“消息马上就会传遍避难港了，豪尔也许会不高兴。”他将门柄转到绿色朝下。
    苏菲毫无悔意，心里暗暗偷笑。或许是手里那把扫帚给她的灵感吧？不过，如果每个人都认为她是在为他工作的话，豪尔或许会让她留下来。这感觉真奇怪！当她还年轻时，像现在这些行为，她光是想到都会尴尬到不行，但是成为老妇人后，她不再在意该说些什么、做些什么了，她发现这样做人反而轻松许多。
    当麦可在壁炉里掀起一块石头，将小女孩的铜板藏在下面时，她也过去多管闲事。“你在干吗？”
    麦可一脸惭愧的样子。“卡西法跟我在试着存钱，因为不这么做的话，豪尔会把赚到的没一分钱花掉。”
    “欠考虑的挥霍无度！”卡西法劈啪地说：“国王付他的钱他会用得比我烧一根木头还快。真是毫无概念！”
    苏菲从水槽取水洒在空中，好让灰尘降下。卡西法吓得一路退后，靠在烟囱上。然后，她又重新扫了一遍地。她对着门扫去，好仔细端详一下那个方型门把。第四个方位，到目前为止还没被使用过，那是一个黑色的斑点。这个又通向哪里呢？边想着，苏菲开始轻快地清除梁木上的蛛网。麦可呻吟着，卡西法则又开始打喷嚏。
    就在此时，豪尔带着一阵冒着蒸汽的香水味走出浴室。他看来干净极了，连他衣服上的银饰及刺绣似乎都跟着明亮起来。他才看一眼就退回浴室里，一只蓝银色的袖子举高，护着头叫道：“停停！女人！别动那些可怜的蜘蛛！”
    “家里有蜘蛛是耻辱！”苏菲边宣告边将他们一把把地扫除掉。
    “那就只清蛛网，不要动那些蜘蛛。”豪尔说。
    搞不好他跟蜘蛛有什么邪恶的关联，苏菲想着。嘴里回说：“它们只会制造更多的蛛网！”
    “蛛网可以捕捉苍蝇，有用的很。”豪尔说：“不要动扫帚，我要走过去。”
    苏菲倚着扫帚站立，看豪尔横过房间、拿起吉他。当他的手碰到门把时，苏菲问他：“红色通往金斯别利，蓝色通往避难港，那黑色呢？通往哪里？”
    “你这个女人实在够爱管闲事！”豪尔说：“那通往我私人的避难所，我是不会告诉你的。”他打开门，门外是宽广、移动着的荒野和山丘。
    “豪尔，你什么时候回来？”麦可带点绝望地问道。
    豪尔假装没听到，跟苏菲说：“我不在时，一只蜘蛛都不准杀！”然后，门砰的一声关上。麦可眼带深意地看了卡西法一眼，谈了口气，卡西法则邪恶地咯咯笑起来。
    因为没人跟她解释豪尔去了哪里，所以苏菲的结论是，他又出门去猎取年轻女孩了。她以更正义凛然的精力努力工作，在豪尔警告过她之后，她不敢伤害任何一只蜘蛛，只能用扫帚敲着梁木，叫道：“蜘蛛出来，都给我走开！”蜘蛛四处逃生，蛛网纷纷掉落，然后，她当然得再扫一次地。接着，她跪下来擦地。
    “我希望你能停下来。”麦可做在楼梯上，以免妨碍她工作。
    卡西法躲在炉架后头，喃喃地说：“但愿我没跟你谈那个交易。”
    苏菲用力擦拭。“等一切都干干净净的时候，你们就会开心了。”
    “但是我现在觉得很悲惨！”麦可嘟囔着。
    豪尔一直到很晚才回来，那时苏菲已经又扫又擦到累得不能动了。她弯身坐在椅子上，全身酸痛。麦可扯住豪尔的一只长袖，将他拉到浴室里去，苏菲可以听到他急急切切抱怨个没停，什么‘可怕的老母鸡！’‘一句话都听不进去！’等等，连卡西法也跟着吼叫：“毫尔，阻止她！她会杀了我们两个！”
    但是，当麦可放开他的袖子时，豪尔只问了一句：“她有没有杀死蜘蛛？”
    “当然没有！”苏菲叱道，全身酸痛令她脾气不佳。“它们看到我就四处逃命了。这些蜘蛛是什么？是被你吃掉心脏的女孩吗？”
    豪尔大笑：“不，只是普通的蜘蛛。”说完，他脸上便带着梦幻般的神情上楼去了。麦可叹了口气。进去储物柜里一阵翻找，找出一张旧的折叠床，一张稻草做的床垫，及一些毯子，将它们放在楼梯下腾出的空间，跟苏菲说：“你今晚最好睡这里。”
    “那是否表示豪尔会让我留下来？”苏菲问。
    “我不知道。”麦可不高兴地说：“豪尔从不对任何事做承诺。我在这里待了六个月后，他好象才注意到我住在这里似的，收我当他的学徒。当时，我只是觉得床总好过椅子罢了。”
    “那真是非常谢谢你了。”苏菲感激地说。床当然是比椅子舒服喽。而且，当卡西法半夜里抱怨肚子饿时，她就方便起来给它添木头了。
    接下来的日子，苏菲勤奋地清扫整个城堡。她做的很开心，她告诉自己是在找线索。她清洗窗子、清洗那黏答答的水槽，还要麦可把工作台和架子上的东西都拿下来，好让她可以好好刷洗一番。她把橱柜里的东西全拿出来，梁上挂的全取下来，全部清洁一遍。她觉得连那个骷髅头跟麦可一样，露出长期受苦受难的可怜相了，因为它老是被搬来搬去。
    然后，她在最靠近壁炉的梁上钉上一大张旧床单，强迫卡西法把头低下，好让她清烟囱。卡西法很讨厌这么做。因此，当煤灰飞得一屋子都是，而苏菲必须将屋子重新清一遍时，它幸灾乐祸、笑得非常邪门。苏菲就是这样，非常勤奋，但常常不得其法，不过勤奋其实也是她的方法之一。她估量过了，只要她打扫得够彻底，迟早会找到那些被豪尔藏起来的女孩的灵魂或心脏，或者跟卡西法的契约有关的线索。
    被卡西法保护着的烟囱，依她的想法，应该是一个很好的藏匿处，但是那儿除了大量的煤灰外，什么东西也没有。她将煤灰装在袋子里，放到后院去。后院当然也是一个被她认定为很有可能的藏匿点。
    每次豪尔回来，麦可跟卡西法都跟他大声的抱怨苏菲，但豪尔豪好象都没听进去。他似乎也完全没注意到家里变的多么干净，橱柜里储满了蛋糕、果酱，偶尔还有莴苣。
    而事情就像麦可曾预测的那样，话很快就在避难港传开了。人们前来看苏菲，避难港的人们称她为女巫太太，金斯别利的人则称她为女魔法师，不消说，连王城的人都听说了。经由金斯别利门来拜访她的人，衣着比避难港的人好。但是不管来自哪里，人们在拜访这样重要的人物时总会找借口。因此，苏菲工作到一半时，常常得要停下来跟人点头、微笑、收礼物，或要麦可赶紧为人家弄一个什么咒语。有些礼物是好东西，像是图画啦、长串的贝壳啦，还有实用的围裙，苏菲每天都使用围裙。她把图和贝壳挂在她楼梯下的小窝里，很快地，那地方就很有家的感觉了。
    苏菲知道，当豪尔将她扫地出门时，她将会想念这一切。她越来越担心他会这么做，她知道他不可能一直这样对她视而不见。
    接下来，她清理浴室。那花了她好几天工夫，因为每天豪尔要出去前，都会在里面待上很久。一等他离开，苏菲马上进入那满是蒸汽及香味咒的浴室，喃喃地说：“现在，让我来找找跟契约有关的东西。”但是她的主要目标，其实是架子上那些小包、瓶子和管子。她借口刷架子，把它们一个个拿下来，花许多时间仔细研究观察。标有‘皮肤’‘眼睛’和‘头发’的，是否真的是女孩子身体器官？但是就她观察的结果，那些似乎不过是乳液、粉和化妆品。如果它们一度曾经是女孩身体的一部分，那一定是豪尔用那个‘腐蚀用’管子里的东西将她们腐蚀掉，再由抽水马桶冲走，才会这样干干净净不留痕迹。不过她真心希望它们只是化妆品而已。
    她把东西放会架上，努力刷洗。当晚，当她全身酸痛地坐在椅子上时，卡西法抱怨道，为了她，它已经抽干了一股温泉。
    “温泉在哪里？”苏菲问道，最近她对什么都好奇。
    “大多在避难港的沼泽底下。”卡西法说。“不过你要是继续这样下去，我就必须由荒地取水了。你什么时候才会停止清扫工作，找出帮我打破契约的方法？”
    “很快啦，”苏菲说。“但是如果豪尔老是不在家，我如何能由他那里挖出契约的内容？他总是这么常外出吗？”
    “只有在他追求女人的时候才会。”卡西法说。
    浴室干净得发亮后，苏菲就去刷楼梯和楼上走道。接着她进入楼上开前头的麦可的小房间。这阵子下来，麦可几乎是怀着沮丧的心情，当苏菲是自然灾害般地勉强接受了。此时他却大叫一声，两步并做一步地冲上楼去救他的宝贝，那些宝贝放在他那被虫蛀过的小床下面的一个旧盒子里。他匆匆地保护着盒子离开时，苏菲瞥见一条蓝色的丝带，一个糖做的玫瑰花，上头则是些信函。
    “原来麦可有女朋友！”苏菲边将窗子用力推开边自言自语，这面窗子也是开向避难港，苏菲将他的床铺拖过窗台去透风。苏菲有些惊讶，她居然没追问麦可他女朋友是谁？他又是如何保护她不让豪尔知道？因为苏菲也知道自己近来变得很多管闲事。
    她由麦可房间扫出来的灰尘和垃圾，多到卡西法试着烧毁它们时，几乎被闷死。
    “我会被你害死！你跟豪尔一样没良心！”卡西法用快窒息的声音说话，只有它的绿发和一部分蓝色的前额露在外面。
    麦可将他的宝盒放在工作台抽屉里，然后上锁。“我希望豪尔能听听我们的意见！这次这个女孩为什么需要这么久？”
    次日，苏菲想由后院开始，但是那天避难纲下雨，雨打在窗户上，也拍打着烟囱，法不安地嘶嘶作响。后院也是避难港的一部分，因此当苏菲开门时，那里也下着倾盆大雨。她将围裙围在头上，在院子里略略翻找，在全身还没被淋得湿透前，找到一桶白色涂料及一把大大的油漆刷。她把这些拿到户内，开始漆墙，又在储物柜里找到一个旧梯子，让她得以漆梁木之间的天花板。接下来两天，虽然当豪尔将门转到绿色向下，走向山岗时，那里天气晴朗，有大片云影在石楠上迅速追逐，速度比城堡所能移动得还快，但是，避难港始终下着雨。苏菲油漆了自己的小窝、楼梯、楼上走道，以及麦可的房间。
    “这儿发生了什么事？”第三天，豪尔进门时问道：“看起来好象明亮多了。”
    “是苏菲。”麦可以一种快死的声音说。
    “我早该猜到了，”豪尔说着，消失到浴室里去。
    “他总算注意到了！”麦可跟卡西法耳语：“那女孩一定是投降了。”
    第二天，避难港仍下着毛毛雨。苏菲绑上头巾，卷起袖子，并束紧围裙。她拿着扫帚、水桶以及肥皂，一等豪尔出门，她就像个年老的复仇天使，出发去清理豪尔的房间。
    她将那房间保留到最后，因为她害怕自己不知会发现什么，她一直是连偷窥都不敢偷窥这个房间。那实在愚蠢！她蹒跚着走上楼梯时这么想着。现在情形很清楚了：卡西法包办了整个城堡强大的魔法部分，麦可则包办所有下人的工作，豪尔却只会在外头游荡，抓女孩子，并且像芬妮剥削她一样，剥削麦可和卡西法。苏菲从不觉得豪尔有多可怕，现在则只是轻蔑。
    她上到楼梯走到处时，发现豪尔正站在房门口，一手懒洋洋地倚在门上，完全挡住她的去路。
    “不行，”他很和颜悦色地说：“我要保持肮脏，谢谢。”
    苏菲目瞪口呆地望着他。“你从哪里跑出来的？我明明看到你出门去了。”
    “我故意让你这么想的。”豪尔说：“你已经把卡西法和可怜的麦可整得不能在惨了，合理的推断是，你今天会对我发动进攻。而且，不管卡西法是怎么告诉你的，我可是个巫师哦。难道你不认为我会法术吗？”
    这完全破坏了苏菲原先的假设，但她打死也不愿承认。“年轻人，每个人都知道你是个巫师。”她严厉地说：“但这并不能改变一个事实——那就是，你的城堡是我所见过最脏的地方！”她越过豪尔垂坠、摇动的蓝银色长袖往房间里探看。地毯上像鸟巢一样，满是垃圾。她还瞥见到剥落的墙及一整架子的书，其中有些看来很怪异，但是没有看到成堆被啃啮过的心。不过，它们也可能是藏匿在那个大大的四柱床后面或下面。帏帐满是灰尘而呈灰白色，挡住了她的视线，令她看不到窗外的景色。
    豪尔袖子挡在她脸前。“嘿！少多管闲事。”
    “我才没有！”苏菲抗议道：“那个房间……”
    “是的，你是多管闲事。”豪尔说。“你是一个超好管闲事、超霸道、超爱干净的恐怖老女人。请你节制一点好不好？你让我们非上痛苦。”
    “但这房子脏得像猪舍，”苏菲抗议道：“叫我不管我会受不了啦！”
    “你可以的。”豪尔说：“我喜欢我的房间维持原状。你必须承认，如果我想住在猪舍里，那也是我的权利。现在，下楼去，找些别的事情做。拜托，我讨厌跟人争吵。”
    苏菲无技可施，只好蹒跚地拖着水桶在她身边发出当啷声走下楼去。她有些发抖，她很惊讶豪尔居然没当场叫她滚蛋。但既然他没有这么做，她就开始思索再来要做些什么。
    她打开楼梯旁的门，发现小雨几乎全停了，于是冲到院子里去，开始精力充沛地将犹滴着雨滴的成堆垃圾加以分类。
    她听到一声金属撞击声，豪尔又出现了，在苏菲接着要搬动的一大片锈铁片中间，她被绊了一下。
    “这里也不成。”他说：“你真是恐怖分子耶！我知道每样东西的位置，如果你把它弄整洁了，我就会找不到我使用运输咒时所需要的东西。”
    所以这里某处也许藏有一道灵魂或一盒嚼过的心脏？素油菲想着。她觉得非常挫败，对豪尔吼道：“可是将东西弄整洁是我来这里的目的！”
    “那你必须为你的生活寻找新目标。”豪尔说。有那么一会，他好象也要发脾气了，他那奇怪的浅色眼睛直瞪着苏菲。但是他控制住自己的脾气，说：“现在，进屋去吧，你这个过动的老家伙，找别的事来玩，别惹我生气。我讨厌生气。”
    苏菲两只瘦瘦的手臂在胸前交叉，她不喜欢被玻璃弹珠似的眼睛瞪着。“你当然讨厌生气！”她反唇相讥：“你讨厌任何令人不愉快的事，对不对？你是泥鳅大王。你就是这种人！任何事只要你不喜欢，你就脚底抹油溜走。”
    豪尔勉强挤出一个微笑。“现在我们都了解彼此的缺点了。回屋里去。去、去呀！”他对着苏菲逼近，挥手要她往门的方向走。挥动的袖子勾到生锈金属片边缘，扯了一下，破了。“该死！”豪尔拉起蓝银色的袖子，说：“看你害的！”
    “我可以把它补好。”苏菲说。
    豪尔再度白了她一眼。“你又来了。你很爱当奴役是不是？”他把破掉的地方夹在右手手指间，拉过去，手放开时，破损的地方已经完全看不出痕迹了。“看，”他说：“你懂了吗？”
    苏菲蹒跚地回到屋内，感觉像是上了一课。巫师显然不需依平常方式做事。豪尔已证明给她看，他是一个货真价实的巫师。“他为何不把我赶出去呢？”她一半问自己，一半问麦可。
    “我也不明白。”麦可说。“不过，我想他是以卡西法为指标。大多数来这里的人不是注意到卡西法，就是怕它怕得要死。”
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Chapter 5 Which is far too full of washing
The only thing to do, Sophie decided, was to show Howl that she was an excellent cleaning lady, a real treasure. She tied an old rag round her wispy white hair, she rolled the sleeves up her skinny old arms and wrapped an old tablecloth from the broom cupboard round her as an apron. It was rather a relief to think there were only four rooms to clean instead of a whole castle. She grabbed up a bucket and besom and got to work.
“What are you doing?” cried Michael and Calcifer in a horrified chorus.
“Cleaning up,” Sophie replied firmly. “The place is a disgrace.”
Calcifer said, “It doesn’t need it,” and Michael muttered, “Howl will kick you out!” but Sophie ignored them both. Dust flew in clouds.
In the midst of it there came another set of thumps at the door. Calcifer blazed up, calling, “Porthaven door!” and gave a great, sizzling sneeze which shot purple sparks through the dust clouds.
Michael left the workbench and went to the door. Sophie peered through the dust she was raising and saw that this time Michael turned the square knob over the door so that the side with a blue blob of paint on it was downward. Then he opened the door on the street you saw out of the window.
A small girl stood there. “Please, Mr. Fisher,” she said, “I’ve come for that spell for me mum.”
“Safety spell for your dad’s boat, wasn’t it?” Michael said. “Won’t be a moment.” He went back to the bench and measured powder from a jar from the shelves into a square of paper. While he was doing it, the little girl peered in at Sophie as curiously as Sophie peered out at her. Michael twisted the paper round the powder and came back saying, ‘Tell her to sprinkle it right along the boat. It’ll last out and back, even if there’s a storm.”
The girl took the paper and passed over a coin. “Has the Sorcerer got a witch working for him too?” she asked.
“No,” said Michael.
“Meaning me?” Sophie called. “Oh, yes, my child. I’m the best and cleanest witch in Ingary.”
Michael shut the door, looking exasperated. “That will be all around Porthaven now. Howl may not like that.” He turned the door green-down again.
Sophie cackled to herself a little, quite unrepentant. Probably she had let the besom she was using put ideas into her head. But it might persuade Howl to let her stay if everyone thought she was working for him. As a girl, Sophie would have shriveled with embarrassment at the way she was behaving. As an old woman, she did not mind what she did or said. She found that a great relief.
She went nosily over as Michael lifted up a stone in the hearth and hid the little girl’s coin underneath it. “What are you doing?”
“Calcifer and I try to keep a store of money,” Michael said rather guiltily. “Howl spends every penny we’ve got if we don’t.”
“Feckless spendthrift!” Calcifer crackled. “He’ll spend the King’s money faster than I burn a log. No sense.”
Sophie sprinkled water from the sink to lay the dust, which made Calcifer shrink back against the chimney. Then she swept the floor all over again. She swept her way toward the door in order to have a look at the square knob above it. The fourth side, which she had not seen used yet, had a blob of black paint on it. Wondering where that led to, Sophie began briskly sweeping the cobwebs off the beams. Michael moaned and Calcifer sneezed again.

  
  Howl came out of the bathroom just then in a waft of steamy perfume. He looked marvelously spruce. Even the silver inlets and embroidery on his suit seemed to have become brighter. He took one look and backed into the bathroom again with a blue-and-silver sleeve protecting his head.
“Stop it, woman!” he said. “Leave those poor spiders alone!”
“These cobwebs are a disgrace!” Sophie declared, fetching them down in bundles.
“Then get them down and leave the spiders,” said Howl.
Probably he had a wicked affinity with spiders, Sophie thought. “They’ll only make more webs,” she said.
“And kill flies, which is very useful,” said Howl. “Keep that broom still while I cross my own room, please.”
Sophie leaned on the broom and watched Howl cross the room and pick up his guitar. As he put his hand on door latch, she said, “If the red blob leads to Kingsbury and the blue blob goes to Porthaven, where does the black blob take you?”
“What a nosy old woman you are!” said Howl. “That leads to my private bolt hole and you are not being told where it is.” He opened the door onto the wide, moving moorland and the hills.
“When will you be back, Howl?” Michael asked a little despairingly.
Howl pretended not to hear. He said to Sophie, “You’re not to kill a single spider while I’m away.” And the door slammed behind him. Michael looked meaningly at Calcifer, and sighed. Calcifer crackled with malicious laughter.
Since nobody explained where Howl had gone, Sophie conceded he was off to hunt young girls again and got down to work with more righteous vigor than ever. She did not dare harm any spiders after what Howl had said. So she banged at the beams with the broom, screaming, “Out, spiders! Out of my way!” Spiders scrambled for their lives every which way, and webs fell in swathes. Then of course she had to sweep the floor yet again. After that, she got down on her knees and scrubbed it.
“I wish you’d stop!” Michael said, sitting on the stairs out of her way.
Calcifer, cowering at the back of the grate, muttered, “I wish I’d never made that bargain with you now!”
Sophie scrubbed on vigorously. “You’ll be much happier when it’s all nice and clean,” she said.
“But I’m miserable now!” Michael protested.
Howl did not come back again until late that night. By that time Sophie had swept and scrubbed herself into a state when she could hardly move. She was sitting hunched up in the chair, aching all over. Michael took hold of Howl by a trailing sleeve and towed him over to the bathroom, where Sophie could hear him pouring out complaints in a passionate mutter. Phrases like “terrible old biddy” and “won’t listen to a word!” were quite easy to hear, even though Calcifer was roaring, “Howl, stop her! She’s killing us both!”
But all Howl said, when Michael let go of him, was “Did you kill any spiders?”
“Of course not!” Sophie snapped. He aches made her irritable. “They look at me and run for their lives. What are they? All the girls whose hearts you ate?”
Howl laughed. “No. Just simple spiders,” he said and went dreamily away upstairs.


  Michael sighed. He went into the broom cupboard and hunted until he found an old folding bed, a straw mattress, and some rugs, which he put into the arched space under the stairs. “You’d better sleep here tonight,” he told Sophie.
“Does that mean Howl’s going to let me stay?” Sophie asked.
“I don’t know!” Michael said irritably. “Howl never commits himself to anything. I was here six months before he seemed to notice I was living here and made me his apprentice. I just thought I bed would be better than the chair.”
“Then thank you very much,” Sophie said gratefully. The bed was indeed more comfortable than a chair and when Calcifer complained he was hungry in the night, it was an easy matter for Sophie to creak her way out and give him another log.
In the days that followed, Sophie cleaned her way remorselessly through the castle. She really enjoyed herself. Telling herself she was looking for clues, she washed the window, she cleaned out the oozing sink, and she made Michael clear everything off the workbench and the shelves so that she could scrub them. She had everything out of the cupboards and down from the beams and cleaned those too. The human skull, she fancied, began to look as long suffering as Michael. It had been moved so often. Then she tacked an old sheet to the beams nearest the fireplace and forced Calcifer to bend his head down while she swept the chimney. Calcifer hated that. He crackled with mean laughter when Sophie discovered that soot had got all over the room and she had to clean it all again. That was Sophie’s trouble. She was remorseless, but she lacked method. But there was a method to her remorselessness: she calculated that she could not clean this thoroughly without sooner or later coming across Howl’s hidden hoard of girls’ souls, or chewed up hearts-or else something that explained Calcifer’s contract. Up the chimney, guarded by Calcifer, had struck her as a good hiding place. But there was nothing there but quantities of soot, which Sophie stored in bags in the yard. The yard was high on her list of hiding places.
Every time Howl came in, Michael and Calcifer complained loudly about Sophie. But Howl did not seem to attend. Not did he seem to notice the cleanliness. And nor did he notice that the food closet became very well stocked with cakes and jam and the occasional lettuce.
For, as Michael had prophesied, word had gone round Porthaven. People came to the door to look at Sophie. They called her Mrs. Witch in Porthaven and Madam Sorceress in Kingsbury. Though the people who came to the Kingsbury door were better dressed than those in Porthaven, no one in either place liked to call on someone so powerful without an excuse. So Sophie was always having to pause in her work to nod and smile and take in a gift, or to get Michael to put up a quick spell for someone. Some of the gifts were nice things-pictures, strings of shells, and useful aprons. Sophie used the aprons daily and hung the shells and pictures round her cubbyhole under the stairs, which soon began to look very homelike indeed.

  
  Sophie knew she would miss this when Howl turned her out. She became more and more afraid that he would. She knew he could not go on ignoring her forever.
She cleaned the bathroom next. That took her days, because Howl spent so long in it every day before he went out. As soon as he went, leaving it full of steam and scented spells, Sophie moved in. “Now we’ll see about that contract!” she muttered at the bath, but her main target was of course the shelf of packets, jars, and tubes. She took every one of them down, on the pretext of scrubbing the shelf, and spent most of the day carefully going through them to see if the ones labeled SKIN, EYES, and HAIR were in fact pieces of girl. As far as she could tell, they were all just creams and powders and paint. If they had once been girls, then Sophie thought Howl had used the tube FOR DECAY on them and rotted them down the washbasin too thoroughly to recall. But she hoped they were only cosmetics in the packets.
She put the things back on the shelf and scrubbed. That night, as she sat aching in the chair, Calcifer grumbled that he had drained one hot spring dry for her.
“Where are these hot springs?” Sophie asked. She was curious about everything these days.
“Under the Porthaven Marshes mostly,” Calcifer said. “But if you go on like this, I’ll have to fetch water from the Waste. When are you going to stop cleaning and find out how to break my contract?”
“In good time,” said Sophie. “How can I get the terms out of Howl if he’s never in? Is he always away this much?”
“Only when he’s after a lady,” Calcifer said.
When the bathroom was clean and gleaming, Sophie scrubbed the stairs and the landing upstairs. Then she moved into Michael’s small front room. Michael, who by this time seemed to be accepting Sophie gloomily as a sort of natural disaster, gave a yell of dismay and pounded upstairs to rescue his most treasured possessions. They were in an old box under his worm-eaten little bed. As he hurried the box protectively away, Sophie glimpsed a blue ribbon and a spun-sugar rose in it, on top of what seemed to be letters.
“So Michael has a sweet heart!” she said to herself as she flung the window open-it opened into the street in Porthaven too-and heaved his bedding across the sill to air. Considering how nosy she had lately become, Sophie was rather surprised at herself for not asking Michael who his girl was and how he kept her safe from Howl.
She swept such quantities of dust and rubbish from Michael’s room that she nearly swamped Calcifer trying to burn it all.
“You’ll be the death of me! You’re as heartless as Howl!” Calcifer choked. Only his green hair and a blue piece of his long forehead showed.
Michael put his precious box in the drawer of the workbench and locked the drawer. “I wish Howl would listen to us!” he said. “Why is this girl taking him so long?”
The next day Sophie tried to start on the backyard. But it was raining in Porthaven that day, driving against the window and pattering in the chimney, making Calcifer hiss with annoyance. The yard was part of the Porthaven house too, so it was pouring out there when Sophie opened the door. She put her apron over her head and rummaged a little, and before she got too wet, she found a bucket of whitewash and a large paintbrush. She took these indoors and set to work on the walls. She found an old stepladder in the broom cupboard and she whitewashed the ceiling between the beams too. it rained for the next two days in Porthaven, though when Howl opened the door with the knob green-blob-down and stepped out onto the hill, the weather there was sunny, with big cloud shadows racing over the heather faster than the castle could move. Sophie whitewashed her cubbyhole, the stairs, the landing, and Michael’s room.

  “What’s happened in here?” Howl asked when he came in on the third day. “It seems much lighter.”
“Sophie,” said Michael in a voice of doom.
“I should have guessed,” Howl said as he disappeared into the bathroom.
“He noticed!” Michael whispered to Calcifer. “The girl must be giving in at last!”
It was still drizzling in Porthaven the next day. Sophie tied on her headcloth, rolled up her sleeves, and girdled on her apron. She collected her besom, her bucket, and her soap, and as soon as Howl was out of the door, she set off like an elderly avenging angel to clean Howl’s bedroom.
She had left that until last for fear of what she would find. She had not even dared to peep into it. And that was silly, she thought as she hobbled up the stairs. By now it was clear that Calcifer did all the strong magic in the castle and Michael did all the hackwork, while Howl gadded off catching girls and exploiting the other two just as Fanny had exploited her. Sophie had never found Howl particularly frightening. Now she felt nothing but contempt.
She arrived on the landing and found Howl standing in the doorway of his bedroom. He was leaning lazily on one hand, completely blocking her way.
“No you don’t,” he said quite pleasantly. “I want it dirty, thank you.”
Sophie gaped at him. “Where did you come from? I saw you go out.”
“I meant you to,” said Howl. “You’d done your worst with Calcifer and poor Michael. It stood to reason you’d descend on me today. And whatever Calcifer told you, I am a wizard, you know. Didn’t you think I could do magic?”
This undermined all Sophie’s assumptions. She would have died rather than admit it. “Everyone knows you’re a wizard, young man,” she said severely. “But that doesn’t alter the fact that your castle is the dirtiest place I’ve ever been in.” she looked into the room past Howl’s dangling blue-and-silver sleeve. The carpet on the floor was littered like a bird’s nest. She glimpsed peeling walls and a shelf full of books, some of them very queer-looking. There was no sign of a pile of gnawed hearts, but those were probably behind or under the huge fourposter bed. Its hangings were gray-white with dust and they prevented her from seeing what the window looked out onto.
Howl swung his sleeve in front of her face. “Uh-uh. Don’t be nosy.”  
“I’m not being nosy!” Sophie protested. “That room-!”
“Yes, you are nosy,” said Howl. “You’re a dreadfully nosy, horribly bossy, appallingly clean old woman. Control yourself. You’re victimizing us all.”
“But it’s a pigsty,” said Sophie. “I can’t help what I am!”
“Yes you can,” said Howl. “And I like my room the way it is. You must admit I have a right to live in a pigsty if I want. Now go downstairs and think of something else to do. Please. I hate quarreling with people.”
There was nothing Sophie could do but hobble away with her bucket clanking by her side. She was a little shaken, and very surprised that Howl had not thrown her out of the castle on the spot. But since he had not, she thought of the next thing that needed doing at once. She opened the door beside the stairs, found the drizzle had almost stopped, and sallied out into the yard, where she began vigorously sorting through piles of dripping rubbish.

  
  There was a metallic clash! and Howl appeared again, stumbling slightly, in the middle of the large sheet of rusty iron that Sophie had been going to move next.
“Not here either,” he said. “You are a terror, aren’t you? Leave this yard alone. I know just where everything is in it, and I won’t be able to find the things I need for my transport spells if you tidy them up.”
So there was probably a bundle of souls or a box of chewed up hearts somewhere out here, Sophie thought. She felt really thwarted. “Tidying up is what I’m here for!” she shouted at Howl.
“Then you must think of a new meaning for your life,” Howl said. For a moment it seemed as it he was going to lose his temper too. His strange, pale eyes all but glared at Sophie. But he controlled himself and said, “Now trot along indoors, you overactive old thing, and find something else to play with before I get angry. I hate getting angry.”
Sophie folded her skinny arms. She did not like being glared at by eyes like glass marbles. “Of course you hate getting angry!” she retorted. “You don’t like anything unpleasant, do you? You’re a slitherer-outer, that’s what you are! You slither away from anything you don’t like!”
Howl gave a forced sort of smile. “Well now,” he said. “Now we both know each other’s faults. Now go back into the house. Go on. Back.” He advanced on Sophie, waving her toward the door. The sleeve on his waving hand caught the edge of the rusty metal, jerked, and tore. “Damnation!” said Howl, holding up the trailing blue-and-silver ends. “Look what you’ve made me do!”
“I can mend it,” Sophie said.
Howl gave her another glassy look. “There you go again,” he said. “How you must love servitude!” He took his torn sleeve gently between the fingers of his right hand and pulled it through them. As the blue-and-silver fabric left his fingers, there was no tear in it at all. “There,” he said. “Understand?”
Sophie hobbled back indoors, rather chastened. Wizards clearly had no need to work in the ordinary way. Howl had shown her he really was a wizard to be reckoned with. “Why didn’t he turn me out?” she said, half to herself and half to Michael.
“It beats me,” said Michael. “But I think he goes by Calcifer. Most people who come in here either don’t notice Calcifer, or they’re scared stiff of him.”

    第5章清洁大作战
    苏菲决定，她唯一能做的就是表现给豪尔看，让他见识一下她是个多么出色、难能可贵的清洁工！她把稀疏的白发用一块旧破布绑起来，卷起袖子露出两条瘦巴巴的老手臂，然后，由储物柜里找来一条旧桌布，围在身上当围裙。她拿起一个水桶和扫帚，开始工作。
    “你在干什么？”麦可和卡西法异口同声以一种吓坏了的语气问道。
    “打扫啊，”苏菲坚定地回答。“这地方实在脏得不能见人。”
    卡西法说：“并不需要。”麦可则喃喃地说：“豪尔会把你踢出去的。”但是苏菲不理他们，灰尘如云如雾般涌起。
    就在这时，又有一阵敲门声响起。卡西法燃旺火焰叫道：“避难港的门。”说完打了好大一个嘶嘶作响的喷嚏，紫色的火星透过灰尘的云雾四散出来。
    麦可离开工作台走到门边。苏菲透过她造成的灰尘偷看，这次麦可将门把转到蓝色向下，然后打开门，外面就是她在窗子里看到的街景。
    一个小女孩站在那里。“费雪先生，拜托，”她说：“我替我妈妈来拿那个咒语。”
    “你爸爸的船要用的安全咒是吧？”麦可说：“马上好。”他回到工作台，由架上取下一个瓶子，将里头的粉倒在一张方型纸上。他忙着弄咒语时，小女孩好奇地往屋里瞧，看着苏菲，苏菲也好奇地看着她。麦可将包着粉的纸扭了几下，走回来，跟小女孩交代道：“跟妈妈说沿着船洒，可以保护船来回一趟的安全，就算遇上暴风雨也没问题。”
    女孩拿过纸包后，递给麦可一个铜板。接着问道：“魔法师请了一个女巫来帮忙吗？”
    “没有。”麦可说。
    “你是说我吗？”苏菲回叫道：“哦，是的，孩子。我是印格利国最棒、最干净的女巫。”
    麦可把门关上，看来很生气。“消息马上就会传遍避难港了，豪尔也许会不高兴。”他将门柄转到绿色朝下。
    苏菲毫无悔意，心里暗暗偷笑。或许是手里那把扫帚给她的灵感吧？不过，如果每个人都认为她是在为他工作的话，豪尔或许会让她留下来。这感觉真奇怪！当她还年轻时，像现在这些行为，她光是想到都会尴尬到不行，但是成为老妇人后，她不再在意该说些什么、做些什么了，她发现这样做人反而轻松许多。
    当麦可在壁炉里掀起一块石头，将小女孩的铜板藏在下面时，她也过去多管闲事。“你在干吗？”
    麦可一脸惭愧的样子。“卡西法跟我在试着存钱，因为不这么做的话，豪尔会把赚到的没一分钱花掉。”
    “欠考虑的挥霍无度！”卡西法劈啪地说：“国王付他的钱他会用得比我烧一根木头还快。真是毫无概念！”
    苏菲从水槽取水洒在空中，好让灰尘降下。卡西法吓得一路退后，靠在烟囱上。然后，她又重新扫了一遍地。她对着门扫去，好仔细端详一下那个方型门把。第四个方位，到目前为止还没被使用过，那是一个黑色的斑点。这个又通向哪里呢？边想着，苏菲开始轻快地清除梁木上的蛛网。麦可呻吟着，卡西法则又开始打喷嚏。
    就在此时，豪尔带着一阵冒着蒸汽的香水味走出浴室。他看来干净极了，连他衣服上的银饰及刺绣似乎都跟着明亮起来。他才看一眼就退回浴室里，一只蓝银色的袖子举高，护着头叫道：“停停！女人！别动那些可怜的蜘蛛！”
    “家里有蜘蛛是耻辱！”苏菲边宣告边将他们一把把地扫除掉。
    “那就只清蛛网，不要动那些蜘蛛。”豪尔说。
    搞不好他跟蜘蛛有什么邪恶的关联，苏菲想着。嘴里回说：“它们只会制造更多的蛛网！”
    “蛛网可以捕捉苍蝇，有用的很。”豪尔说：“不要动扫帚，我要走过去。”
    苏菲倚着扫帚站立，看豪尔横过房间、拿起吉他。当他的手碰到门把时，苏菲问他：“红色通往金斯别利，蓝色通往避难港，那黑色呢？通往哪里？”
    “你这个女人实在够爱管闲事！”豪尔说：“那通往我私人的避难所，我是不会告诉你的。”他打开门，门外是宽广、移动着的荒野和山丘。
    “豪尔，你什么时候回来？”麦可带点绝望地问道。
    豪尔假装没听到，跟苏菲说：“我不在时，一只蜘蛛都不准杀！”然后，门砰的一声关上。麦可眼带深意地看了卡西法一眼，谈了口气，卡西法则邪恶地咯咯笑起来。
    因为没人跟她解释豪尔去了哪里，所以苏菲的结论是，他又出门去猎取年轻女孩了。她以更正义凛然的精力努力工作，在豪尔警告过她之后，她不敢伤害任何一只蜘蛛，只能用扫帚敲着梁木，叫道：“蜘蛛出来，都给我走开！”蜘蛛四处逃生，蛛网纷纷掉落，然后，她当然得再扫一次地。接着，她跪下来擦地。
    “我希望你能停下来。”麦可做在楼梯上，以免妨碍她工作。
    卡西法躲在炉架后头，喃喃地说：“但愿我没跟你谈那个交易。”
    苏菲用力擦拭。“等一切都干干净净的时候，你们就会开心了。”
    “但是我现在觉得很悲惨！”麦可嘟囔着。
    豪尔一直到很晚才回来，那时苏菲已经又扫又擦到累得不能动了。她弯身坐在椅子上，全身酸痛。麦可扯住豪尔的一只长袖，将他拉到浴室里去，苏菲可以听到他急急切切抱怨个没停，什么‘可怕的老母鸡！’‘一句话都听不进去！’等等，连卡西法也跟着吼叫：“毫尔，阻止她！她会杀了我们两个！”
    但是，当麦可放开他的袖子时，豪尔只问了一句：“她有没有杀死蜘蛛？”
    “当然没有！”苏菲叱道，全身酸痛令她脾气不佳。“它们看到我就四处逃命了。这些蜘蛛是什么？是被你吃掉心脏的女孩吗？”
    豪尔大笑：“不，只是普通的蜘蛛。”说完，他脸上便带着梦幻般的神情上楼去了。麦可叹了口气。进去储物柜里一阵翻找，找出一张旧的折叠床，一张稻草做的床垫，及一些毯子，将它们放在楼梯下腾出的空间，跟苏菲说：“你今晚最好睡这里。”
    “那是否表示豪尔会让我留下来？”苏菲问。
    “我不知道。”麦可不高兴地说：“豪尔从不对任何事做承诺。我在这里待了六个月后，他好象才注意到我住在这里似的，收我当他的学徒。当时，我只是觉得床总好过椅子罢了。”
    “那真是非常谢谢你了。”苏菲感激地说。床当然是比椅子舒服喽。而且，当卡西法半夜里抱怨肚子饿时，她就方便起来给它添木头了。
    接下来的日子，苏菲勤奋地清扫整个城堡。她做的很开心，她告诉自己是在找线索。她清洗窗子、清洗那黏答答的水槽，还要麦可把工作台和架子上的东西都拿下来，好让她可以好好刷洗一番。她把橱柜里的东西全拿出来，梁上挂的全取下来，全部清洁一遍。她觉得连那个骷髅头跟麦可一样，露出长期受苦受难的可怜相了，因为它老是被搬来搬去。
    然后，她在最靠近壁炉的梁上钉上一大张旧床单，强迫卡西法把头低下，好让她清烟囱。卡西法很讨厌这么做。因此，当煤灰飞得一屋子都是，而苏菲必须将屋子重新清一遍时，它幸灾乐祸、笑得非常邪门。苏菲就是这样，非常勤奋，但常常不得其法，不过勤奋其实也是她的方法之一。她估量过了，只要她打扫得够彻底，迟早会找到那些被豪尔藏起来的女孩的灵魂或心脏，或者跟卡西法的契约有关的线索。
    被卡西法保护着的烟囱，依她的想法，应该是一个很好的藏匿处，但是那儿除了大量的煤灰外，什么东西也没有。她将煤灰装在袋子里，放到后院去。后院当然也是一个被她认定为很有可能的藏匿点。
    每次豪尔回来，麦可跟卡西法都跟他大声的抱怨苏菲，但豪尔豪好象都没听进去。他似乎也完全没注意到家里变的多么干净，橱柜里储满了蛋糕、果酱，偶尔还有莴苣。
    而事情就像麦可曾预测的那样，话很快就在避难港传开了。人们前来看苏菲，避难港的人们称她为女巫太太，金斯别利的人则称她为女魔法师，不消说，连王城的人都听说了。经由金斯别利门来拜访她的人，衣着比避难港的人好。但是不管来自哪里，人们在拜访这样重要的人物时总会找借口。因此，苏菲工作到一半时，常常得要停下来跟人点头、微笑、收礼物，或要麦可赶紧为人家弄一个什么咒语。有些礼物是好东西，像是图画啦、长串的贝壳啦，还有实用的围裙，苏菲每天都使用围裙。她把图和贝壳挂在她楼梯下的小窝里，很快地，那地方就很有家的感觉了。
    苏菲知道，当豪尔将她扫地出门时，她将会想念这一切。她越来越担心他会这么做，她知道他不可能一直这样对她视而不见。
    接下来，她清理浴室。那花了她好几天工夫，因为每天豪尔要出去前，都会在里面待上很久。一等他离开，苏菲马上进入那满是蒸汽及香味咒的浴室，喃喃地说：“现在，让我来找找跟契约有关的东西。”但是她的主要目标，其实是架子上那些小包、瓶子和管子。她借口刷架子，把它们一个个拿下来，花许多时间仔细研究观察。标有‘皮肤’‘眼睛’和‘头发’的，是否真的是女孩子身体器官？但是就她观察的结果，那些似乎不过是乳液、粉和化妆品。如果它们一度曾经是女孩身体的一部分，那一定是豪尔用那个‘腐蚀用’管子里的东西将她们腐蚀掉，再由抽水马桶冲走，才会这样干干净净不留痕迹。不过她真心希望它们只是化妆品而已。
    她把东西放会架上，努力刷洗。当晚，当她全身酸痛地坐在椅子上时，卡西法抱怨道，为了她，它已经抽干了一股温泉。
    “温泉在哪里？”苏菲问道，最近她对什么都好奇。
    “大多在避难港的沼泽底下。”卡西法说。“不过你要是继续这样下去，我就必须由荒地取水了。你什么时候才会停止清扫工作，找出帮我打破契约的方法？”
    “很快啦，”苏菲说。“但是如果豪尔老是不在家，我如何能由他那里挖出契约的内容？他总是这么常外出吗？”
    “只有在他追求女人的时候才会。”卡西法说。
    浴室干净得发亮后，苏菲就去刷楼梯和楼上走道。接着她进入楼上开前头的麦可的小房间。这阵子下来，麦可几乎是怀着沮丧的心情，当苏菲是自然灾害般地勉强接受了。此时他却大叫一声，两步并做一步地冲上楼去救他的宝贝，那些宝贝放在他那被虫蛀过的小床下面的一个旧盒子里。他匆匆地保护着盒子离开时，苏菲瞥见一条蓝色的丝带，一个糖做的玫瑰花，上头则是些信函。
    “原来麦可有女朋友！”苏菲边将窗子用力推开边自言自语，这面窗子也是开向避难港，苏菲将他的床铺拖过窗台去透风。苏菲有些惊讶，她居然没追问麦可他女朋友是谁？他又是如何保护她不让豪尔知道？因为苏菲也知道自己近来变得很多管闲事。
    她由麦可房间扫出来的灰尘和垃圾，多到卡西法试着烧毁它们时，几乎被闷死。
    “我会被你害死！你跟豪尔一样没良心！”卡西法用快窒息的声音说话，只有它的绿发和一部分蓝色的前额露在外面。
    麦可将他的宝盒放在工作台抽屉里，然后上锁。“我希望豪尔能听听我们的意见！这次这个女孩为什么需要这么久？”
    次日，苏菲想由后院开始，但是那天避难纲下雨，雨打在窗户上，也拍打着烟囱，法不安地嘶嘶作响。后院也是避难港的一部分，因此当苏菲开门时，那里也下着倾盆大雨。她将围裙围在头上，在院子里略略翻找，在全身还没被淋得湿透前，找到一桶白色涂料及一把大大的油漆刷。她把这些拿到户内，开始漆墙，又在储物柜里找到一个旧梯子，让她得以漆梁木之间的天花板。接下来两天，虽然当豪尔将门转到绿色向下，走向山岗时，那里天气晴朗，有大片云影在石楠上迅速追逐，速度比城堡所能移动得还快，但是，避难港始终下着雨。苏菲油漆了自己的小窝、楼梯、楼上走道，以及麦可的房间。
    “这儿发生了什么事？”第三天，豪尔进门时问道：“看起来好象明亮多了。”
    “是苏菲。”麦可以一种快死的声音说。
    “我早该猜到了，”豪尔说着，消失到浴室里去。
    “他总算注意到了！”麦可跟卡西法耳语：“那女孩一定是投降了。”
    第二天，避难港仍下着毛毛雨。苏菲绑上头巾，卷起袖子，并束紧围裙。她拿着扫帚、水桶以及肥皂，一等豪尔出门，她就像个年老的复仇天使，出发去清理豪尔的房间。
    她将那房间保留到最后，因为她害怕自己不知会发现什么，她一直是连偷窥都不敢偷窥这个房间。那实在愚蠢！她蹒跚着走上楼梯时这么想着。现在情形很清楚了：卡西法包办了整个城堡强大的魔法部分，麦可则包办所有下人的工作，豪尔却只会在外头游荡，抓女孩子，并且像芬妮剥削她一样，剥削麦可和卡西法。苏菲从不觉得豪尔有多可怕，现在则只是轻蔑。
    她上到楼梯走到处时，发现豪尔正站在房门口，一手懒洋洋地倚在门上，完全挡住她的去路。
    “不行，”他很和颜悦色地说：“我要保持肮脏，谢谢。”
    苏菲目瞪口呆地望着他。“你从哪里跑出来的？我明明看到你出门去了。”
    “我故意让你这么想的。”豪尔说：“你已经把卡西法和可怜的麦可整得不能在惨了，合理的推断是，你今天会对我发动进攻。而且，不管卡西法是怎么告诉你的，我可是个巫师哦。难道你不认为我会法术吗？”
    这完全破坏了苏菲原先的假设，但她打死也不愿承认。“年轻人，每个人都知道你是个巫师。”她严厉地说：“但这并不能改变一个事实——那就是，你的城堡是我所见过最脏的地方！”她越过豪尔垂坠、摇动的蓝银色长袖往房间里探看。地毯上像鸟巢一样，满是垃圾。她还瞥见到剥落的墙及一整架子的书，其中有些看来很怪异，但是没有看到成堆被啃啮过的心。不过，它们也可能是藏匿在那个大大的四柱床后面或下面。帏帐满是灰尘而呈灰白色，挡住了她的视线，令她看不到窗外的景色。
    豪尔袖子挡在她脸前。“嘿！少多管闲事。”
    “我才没有！”苏菲抗议道：“那个房间……”
    “是的，你是多管闲事。”豪尔说。“你是一个超好管闲事、超霸道、超爱干净的恐怖老女人。请你节制一点好不好？你让我们非上痛苦。”
    “但这房子脏得像猪舍，”苏菲抗议道：“叫我不管我会受不了啦！”
    “你可以的。”豪尔说：“我喜欢我的房间维持原状。你必须承认，如果我想住在猪舍里，那也是我的权利。现在，下楼去，找些别的事情做。拜托，我讨厌跟人争吵。”
    苏菲无技可施，只好蹒跚地拖着水桶在她身边发出当啷声走下楼去。她有些发抖，她很惊讶豪尔居然没当场叫她滚蛋。但既然他没有这么做，她就开始思索再来要做些什么。
    她打开楼梯旁的门，发现小雨几乎全停了，于是冲到院子里去，开始精力充沛地将犹滴着雨滴的成堆垃圾加以分类。
    她听到一声金属撞击声，豪尔又出现了，在苏菲接着要搬动的一大片锈铁片中间，她被绊了一下。
    “这里也不成。”他说：“你真是恐怖分子耶！我知道每样东西的位置，如果你把它弄整洁了，我就会找不到我使用运输咒时所需要的东西。”
    所以这里某处也许藏有一道灵魂或一盒嚼过的心脏？素油菲想着。她觉得非常挫败，对豪尔吼道：“可是将东西弄整洁是我来这里的目的！”
    “那你必须为你的生活寻找新目标。”豪尔说。有那么一会，他好象也要发脾气了，他那奇怪的浅色眼睛直瞪着苏菲。但是他控制住自己的脾气，说：“现在，进屋去吧，你这个过动的老家伙，找别的事来玩，别惹我生气。我讨厌生气。”
    苏菲两只瘦瘦的手臂在胸前交叉，她不喜欢被玻璃弹珠似的眼睛瞪着。“你当然讨厌生气！”她反唇相讥：“你讨厌任何令人不愉快的事，对不对？你是泥鳅大王。你就是这种人！任何事只要你不喜欢，你就脚底抹油溜走。”
    豪尔勉强挤出一个微笑。“现在我们都了解彼此的缺点了。回屋里去。去、去呀！”他对着苏菲逼近，挥手要她往门的方向走。挥动的袖子勾到生锈金属片边缘，扯了一下，破了。“该死！”豪尔拉起蓝银色的袖子，说：“看你害的！”
    “我可以把它补好。”苏菲说。
    豪尔再度白了她一眼。“你又来了。你很爱当奴役是不是？”他把破掉的地方夹在右手手指间，拉过去，手放开时，破损的地方已经完全看不出痕迹了。“看，”他说：“你懂了吗？”
    苏菲蹒跚地回到屋内，感觉像是上了一课。巫师显然不需依平常方式做事。豪尔已证明给她看，他是一个货真价实的巫师。“他为何不把我赶出去呢？”她一半问自己，一半问麦可。
    “我也不明白。”麦可说。“不过，我想他是以卡西法为指标。大多数来这里的人不是注意到卡西法，就是怕它怕得要死。”
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Chapter 6 In which Howl expresses his feelings with green sli
Howl did not go out that day, nor for the next few days. Sophie sat quietly in the chair by the hearth, keeping out of his way and thinking. She saw that, much as Howl deserved it, she had been taking out her feelings on the castle when she was really angry with the Witch of the Waste. And she was a little upset at the thought that she was here on false pretenses. Howl might think Calcifer liked her, but Sophie knew Calcifer had simply seized on a chance to make a bargain with her. Sophie rather thought she had let Calcifer down.
This state of mind did not last. Sophie discovered a pile of Michael’s clothes that needed mending. She fetched out thimble, scissors, and thread from her sewing pocket and set to work. By that evening she was cheerful enough to join in Calcifer’s silly little song about saucepans.

  
  “Happy in your work?” Howl said sarcastically.
“I need more to do,” Sophie said.
“My old suit needs mending, if you have to feel busy,” said Howl.
This seemed to mean that Howl was no longer annoyed. Sophie was relieved. She had been almost frightened that morning.
It was clear Howl had not yet caught the girl he was after. Sophie listened to Michael asking rather obvious questions about it, and Howl slithering neatly out of answering any of them. “He is a slitherer-outer,” Sophie murmured to a pair of Michael’s socks. “Can’t face his own wickedness.” She watched Howl being restlessly busy in order to hide his discontent. That was something Sophie understood rather well.
At the bench Howl worked a good deal harder and faster than Michael, putting spells together in an expert but slapdash way. From the look on Michael’s face, most of the spells were both unusual and hard to do. But Howl would leave a spell midway and dash up to his bedroom to look after something hidden-and no doubt sinister-going on up there, and then shortly race out into the yard to tinker with a large spell out there. Sophie opened the door a crack and was rather amazed to see the elegant wizard kneeling in the mud with his long sleeves tied behind his neck to keep them out of the way while he carefully heaved a tangle of greasy metal into a special framework of some kind.
That spell was for the King. Another overdressed and scented messenger arrived with a letter and a long, long speech in which he wondered if Howl could possibly spare time, no doubt invaluably employed in other ways, to bend his powerful and ingenious mind to a small problem experienced by His Royal Majesty-to whit, how an army might get its heavy wagons through a marsh and rough ground. Howl was wonderfully polite and long-winded in reply. He said no. But the messenger spoke for a further half-hour, at then end of which he and Howl bowed to one another and Howl agreed to do the spell.
“This is a bit ominous,” Howl said to Michael when the messenger had gone. “What did Suliman have to get himself lost in the Waste for? The King seems to think I’ll do instead.”
“He wasn’t as inventive as you, by all accounts,” Michael said.
“I’m too patient and polite,” Howl said gloomily. “I should have overcharged him even more.”
Howl was equally patient and polite with customers from Porthaven, but, as Michael anxiously pointed out, the trouble was that Howl did not charge these people enough. This was after Howl had listened for an hour to the reasons why a seaman’s wife could not pay him a penny yet, and then promised a sea captain a wind spell for almost nothing. Howl eluded Michael’s arguments by giving him a magic lesson.
Sophie sewed buttons on Michael’s shirts and listened to Howl going through a spell with Michael. “I know I’m slapdash,” he was saying, “but there’s no need for you to copy me. Always read it right through, carefully, first. The shape of it should tell you a lot, whether it’s self-fulfilling, or self-discovering, or simple incantation, or mixed action and speech. When you’ve decided that, go through again and decide which bits mean what they say and which bits are put as a puzzle. You’re getting on to more powerful kinds now. You’ll find every spell of power has at least one deliberate mistake or mystery in it to prevent accidents. You have to spot those. Now take this spell…”

  
  Listening to Michael’s halting replies to Howl’s questions, and watching Howl scribble remarks on the paper with a strange, everlasting quill pen, Sophie realized that she could learn a lot too. It dawned on her that if Martha could discover the spell to swap herself and Lettie about at Mrs.Fairfax’s, then she ought to be able to do the same here. With a bit of luck, there might be no need to rely on Calcifer.
When Howl was satisfied that Michael had forgotten all about how much or how little he charged people in Porthaven, he took him out into the yard to help with the King’s spell. Sophie creaked to her feet and hobbled to the bench. The spell was clear enough, but Howl’s scrawled remarks defeated her. “I’ve never seen such writing!” she grumbled to the human skull. “Does he use a pen or a poker?” She sorted eagerly through every scrap of paper on the bench and examined the powders and liquids in the crooked jars. “Yes, let’s admit it,” she told the skull. “I snoop. And I have my proper reward. I can find out how to cure fowl pest and abate whooping cough, raise a wind and remove hairs from the face. If Martha had found this lot, she’d still be at Mrs. Fairfax’s.”
Howl, it seemed to Sophie, went and examined all the things she had moved when he came in from the yard. But that seemed to be only restlessness. He seemed not to know what to do with himself after that. Sophie heard him roving up and down during the night. He was only an hour in the bathroom the next morning. He seemed not to be able to contain himself while Michael put on his best plum velvet suit, ready to go to the Palace in Kingsbury, and the two of them wrapped the bulky spell up in golden paper. The spell must have been surprisingly light for its size. Michael could carry it on his own easily, with both is arms wrapped round it. Howl turned the knob over the door red-down for him and sent him out into the street among the painted houses.
“They’re expecting it,” Howl said. “You should only have to wait most of the morning. Tell them a child could work it. Show them. And when you come back, I’ll have a spell of power for you to get to work on. So long.”
He shut the door and roved around the room again. “My feet itch,” he said suddenly. “I’m going for a walk on the hills. Tell Michael the spell I promised him is on the bench. And here’s for you to keep busy with.”
Sophie found a gray-and-scarlet suit, as fancy as the blue-and-silver one, dropped into her lap from nowhere. Howl meanwhile picked up his guitar from its corner, turned the doorknob green-down, and stepped out among the scudding heather above Market Chipping.
“His feet itch!” grumbled Calcifer. There was a fog down in Porthaven., Calcifer was low among his logs, moving uneasily this way and that to avoid drips in the chimney. “How does he think I feel, stuck in a damp grate like this?”
“Then you’ll have to give me hint at least about how to break you contract,” Sophie said, shaking out he gray-and-scarlet suit. “Goodness, you’re a fine suit, even if you a bit worn! Built to pull in the girls, aren’t you?”

  “I have given you hint!” Calcifer fizzed.
“Then you’ll have to give it to me again. I didn’t catch it,” Sophie said as she laid the suit down and hobbled to the door.
“If I give you a hint and tell you it’s a hint, it will be information, and I’m not allowed to give that,” Calcifer said. “Where are you going?”
“To do something I didn’t dare do until they were both out,” Sophie said. She twisted the square knob over the door until the black blob pointed downward. Then she opened the door.
There was nothing outside. It was neither black, nor gray, nor white. It was not think, or transparent. It did not move. It had no smell and no feel. When Sophie put a very cautious finger out into it, it was neither hot nor cold. It felt of nothing. It seemed utterly and completely nothing.
“What is this?” she asked Calcifer.
Calcifer was as interested as Sophie. His blue face was leaning right out of the grate to see the door. He had forgotten the fog. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I only maintain it. All I know is that it’s on the side of the castle that no one can walk around. It feels quite far away.”
“It feels beyond the moon!” said Sophie. She shut the door and turned the knob green-downward. She hesitated a minute and then started to hobble to the stairs.
“He’s locked it,” said Calcifer. “He told me to tell you if you tried to snoop again.”
“Oh,” said Sophie. “What has he got up there?”
“I’ve no idea,” said Calcifer. “I don’t know anything about upstairs. If you only knew how frustrating it is! I can’t even really see outside the castle. Only enough to see what direction I’m going in.”
Sophie, feeling equally frustrated, sat down and began mending the gray-and-scarlet suit. Michael came in quite soon after that.
“The King saw me at once,” he said. “He-” He looked round the room. His eyes went to the empty corner where the guitar usually stood. “Oh, no!” he said. “Not the lady friend again! I thought she’d fallen in love with him and it was all over days ago. What’s keeping her?”
Calcifer fizzed wickedly. “You got the signs wrong. Heartless Howl is finding this lady rather tough. He decided to leave her alone for a few days to see if that would help. That’s all.”
“Bother!” said Michael. “That’s bound to mean trouble. And here I was hoping Howl was almost sensible again!”
Sophie banged the suit down on her knees. “Really!” she said. “How can you both talk like that about such utter wickedness! At least, I suppose I can’t blame Calcifer, since he’s an evil demon. But you, Michael-!”
“I don’t think I’m evil,” Calcifer protested.
“But I’m not calm about it, if that’s what you think!” Michael said. “If you knew the trouble we’ve had because Howl will keep falling in love like this! We’ve had lawsuits, and suitors with swords, and mothers with rolling pins, and fathers and uncles with cudgels. And aunts. Aunts are terrible. They go for you with hatpins. But the worst is when the girl herself finds out where Howl lives and turns up at the door, crying and miserable. Howl goes out through the back door and Calcifer and I have to deal with them all.”

  “I hate the unhappy ones,” Calcifer said. “They drip on me. I’d rather have them angry.”
“Now let’s get this straight,” Sophie said, clenching her fists knobbily in red satin. “What does Howl do to these poor females? I was told he ate their hearts and took their souls away.”
Michael laughed uncomfortably. “Then you must come from Market Chipping. Howl sent me down there to blacken his name when we first set up the castle. I-er-I said that sort of thing. It’s what aunts usually say. It’s only true in a manner of speaking.”
“Howl’s very fickle,” said Calcifer. “He’s only interested until the girl falls in love with him. Then he can’t be bothered with her.”
“But he can’t rest until he’s made her love him,” Michael said eagerly. “You can’t get any sense out of him until he has. I always look forward to the time when the girl falls for him. Things get better then.”
“Until they track him down,” said Calcifer.
“You’d think he’d have the sense to give them a false name,” Sophie said scornfully. The scorn was to hide the fact that she was feeling somewhat foolish.
“Oh, he always does,” Michael said. “He loves giving false names and posing as things. He does it even when he’s not courting girls. Haven’t you noticed that he’s Sorcerer Jenkin in Porthaven, and Wizard Pendragon in Kingsbury, as well as Horrible Howl in the castle?”
Sophie had not noticed, which made her feel more foolish still. And feeling foolish made her angry. “Well, I think it’s still wicked, going round making poor girls unhappy,” she said. “It’s heartless and pointless.”
“He’s made that way,” said Calcifer.
Michael pulled a three-legged stool up to the fire and sat on it while Sophie sewed, telling her of Howl’s conquests and some of the trouble that had happened afterward. Sophie muttered at the fine suit. She still felt very foolish. “So you ate hearts, did you, suit? Why do aunts put things so oddly when they talk about their nieces? Probably fancied you themselves, my good suit. How would you feel with a raging aunt after you, eh?” As Michael told her the story of the particular aunt he had in mind, it occurred to Sophie that it was probably just as well the rumors of Howl had come to Market Chipping in those words. She could imagine a strong-minded girl like Lettie otherwise getting very interested in Howl and ending up very unhappy.
Michael had just suggested lunch and Calcifer as usual had groaned when Howl flung open the door and came in, more discontented than ever.
“Something to eat?” said Sophie.
“No,” said Howl. “Hot water in the bathroom, Calcifer.” He stood moodily in the bathroom door a moment. “Sophie, have you tidied this shelf of spells in here by any chance?”
Sophie felt more foolish than ever. Nothing would have possessed her to admit she had gone through all those packets and jars looking for pieces of girl. “I haven’t touched a thing,” she replied virtuously as she went to get the frying pan.
“I hope you didn’t,” Michael said uneasily as the bathroom door slammed shut.

  
  Rinsings and gushings came from the bathroom while Sophie fried lunch. “He’s using a lot of hot water,” Calcifer said from under the pan. “I think he’s tinting his hair. I hope you left the hair spells alone. For a plain man with mud-colored hair, he’s terribly vain about his looks.”
“Oh, shut up!” snapped Sophie. “I put everything back just where I found it!” She was so cross that she emptied the pan of eggs and bacon over Calcifer.
Calcifer, of course, ate them with enormous enthusiasm and much flaring and gobbling. Sophie fried more over the spitting flames. She and Michael ate them. They were clearing away, and Calcifer was running his blue tongue round his purple lips, when the bathroom door crashed open and Howl shot out, wailing with despair.
“Look at this!” he shouted. “Look at it! What has that one-woman force of chaos done to these spells?”
Sophie and Michael whirled round and looked at Howl. His hair was wet, but, apart from that, neither of them could see that it looked any different.
“If you mean me-” Sophie began.
“I do mean you! Look!” Howl shrieked. He sat down with a thump on the three-legged stool and jabbed at his wet head with his finger. “Look. Survey. Inspect. My hair is ruined! I look like a pan of bacon and eggs!”
Michael and Sophie bent nervously over Howl’s head. It seemed the usual flaxen color right to the roots. The only difference might have been a slight, very slight, trace of red. Sophie found that agreeable. It reminded her a little of the color her own hair should have been.
“I think it’s very nice,” she said.
“Nice!” screamed Howl. “You would! You did it on purpose. You couldn’t rest until you made me miserable too. Look at it! It’s ginger! I shall have to hide until it’s grown out!” He spread his arms out passionately. “Despair!” he yelled. “Anguish! Horror!”
The room turned dim. Huge, cloudy, human-looking shapes bellied up in all four corners and advanced on Sophie and Michael, howling as they came. The howls began as moaning horror, and went up to despairing brays, and then up again to screams of pain and terror. Sophie pressed her hands to her ears, but the screams pressed through her hands, louder and louder still, more horrible every second. Calcifer shrank hurriedly down in the grate and flickered his way under his lowest log. Michael grabbed Sophie by her elbow and dragged her to the door. He spun the knob to blue-down, kicked the door open, and got them both out into the street in Porthaven as fast as he could.
The noise was almost as horrible out there. Doors were opening all down the road and people were running out with their hands over their ears.
“Ought we to leave him alone in that state?” Sophie quavered.
“Yes,” said Michael. “If he thinks it’s your fault, then definitely.”
They hurried through the town, pursued by throbbing screams. Quite a crowd came with them. In spite of the fact that the fog had now become a seeping sea drizzle, everyone made for the harbor or the sands, where the noise seemed easier to bear. The fray vastness of the sea soaked it up a little. Everyone stood in damp huddles, looking out at t he misty white horizon and the dripping ropes on the moored ships while the noise became a gigantic, heartbroken sobbing. Sophie reflected that she was seeing the sea close for the first time in her life. It was pity that she was not enjoying it more.

  The sobs died away to vast, miserable sighs and then to silence. People began cautiously to go back into the town. Some of them came timidly up to Sophie.
“Is something wrong with the poor Sorcerer, Mrs. Witch?”
“He’s a little unhappy today,” Michael said. “Come on. I think we can risk going back now.”
As they went along the quayside, several sailors called out anxiously from the moored ships, wanting to know it the noise meant storms or bad luck.
“Not at all,” Sophie called back. “It’s all over now.”
But it was not. They came back to the wizard’s house, which was an ordinary crooked little building from the outside that Sophie would not have recognized if Michael had not been with her. Michael opened the shabby little door rather cautiously. Inside, Howl was still sitting in the stool. He sat in an attitude of utter despair. And he was covered all over in thick green slime.
There were horrendous, dramatic, violent quantities of green slime-oodles of it. It covered Howl completely. It draped his head and shoulders in sticky dollops, heaping on his knees and hands, trickling in glops down his legs, and dripping off the stool in sticky strands. It was in oozing ponds and crawling pools over most of the floor. Long fingers of it had crept into the heart. It smelled vile.
“Save me!” Calcifer cried in a hoarse whisper. He was down to two desperately flickering small flames. “This stuff is going to put me out!”
Sophie held up her skirt and marched as near Howl as she could get-which was not very near. “Stop it!” she said. “Stop it at once! You are behaving just like a baby!”
Howl did not move or answer. His face stared from behind the slime, white and tragic and wide-eyed.
“What shall we do? Is he dead?” Michael asked, jittering beside the door.
Michael was a nice boy, Sophie thought, but a bit helpless in a crisis. “No, of course he isn’t,” she said. “And if it wasn’t for Calcifer, he could behave like a jellied eel all day for all I care! Open the bathroom door.”
While Michael was working his way between pools of slime to the bathroom, Sophie threw her apron into the hearth to stop more of the stuff getting near Calcifer and snatched up the shovel. She scooped up loads of ash and dumped them in the biggest pools of slime. It hissed violently. The room filled with steam and smelled worse than ever. Sophie furled up her sleeves, bent her back to get a good purchase on the Wizard’s slimy knees, and pushed Howl, stool and all, toward the bathroom. Her feet slipped and skidded in the slime, but of course the ooziness helped the stool to move too. Michael came and pulled at Howl’s slime-draped sleeves. Together, they trundled him into the bathroom. There, since Howl still refused to move, they shunted him into the shower stall.
“Hot water, Calcifer!” Sophie panted grimly. “Very hot.”
It took an hour to wash the slime off Howl. It took Michael another hour to persuade Howl to get off the stool and into dry clothes. Luckily, the gray-and-scarlet suit Sophie had just mended had been draped over the back of the chair, out of the way of the slime. The blue-and-silver suit was ruined. Sophie told Michael to put it in the bath to soak. Meanwhile, mumbling and grumbling, she fetched more hot water. She turned the doorknob green-down and swept all the slime out onto the moors. The castle left a trail like a snail in the heather, but it was an easy way to get rid of the slime. There were some advantages to living in a moving castle, Sophie thought as she washed the floor. She wondered if Howl’s noises had been coming from the castle to. In which case, she pitied the folk of Market Chipping.

  By this time Sophie was tired and cross. She knew the green slime was Howl’s revenge on her, and she was not at all prepared to be sympathetic when Michael finally led Howl forth from the bathroom, clothed in gray and scarlet, and sat him tenderly in the chair by the hearth.
“That was plain stupid!” Calcifer sputtered. “Were you trying to get rid of the best part of your magic, or something?”
Howl took no notice. He just sat, looking tragic and shivering.
“I can’t get him to speak!” Michael whispered miserably.
“It’s just a tantrum,” Sophie said. Martha and Lettie were good at having tantrums. She knew how to deal with those. On the other hand, it is quite a risk to spank a wizard for getting hysterical about his hair. Anyway, Sophie’s experience told her that tantrums are seldom about the thing they appear to be about. She made Calcifer move over so that she could balance a pan of milk on the logs. When it was warm, she thrust a mugful into Howl’s hands. “Drink it,” she said. “Now, what’s all this fuss about? Is it this young lady you keep going to see?”
Howl sipped the milk dolefully. “Yes,” he said. “I left her alone to see if that would make her remember me fondly, and it hasn’t. She wasn’t sure, even when I last saw her. Now she tells me there’s another fellow.”
He sounded so miserable that Sophie felt quite sorry for him. Now his hair was dry. She noticed guiltily, it really was almost pink.
“She’s the most beautiful girl there ever was in these parts,” Howl went on mournfully. “I love her so dearly, but she scorns my deep devotion and gets sorry for another fellow. How can she have another fellow after all this attention I’ve given her? They usually get rid of the other fellows as soon as I come along.”
Sophie’s sympathy shrank quite sharply. It occurred to her that if Howl could cover himself with green slime so easily, then he could just as easily turn his hair the proper color. “Then why don’t you feed the girl a love potion and get it over with?”
“Oh, no,” said Howl. “That’s not playing the game. That would spoil all the fun.”
Sophie’s sympathy shrank again. A game, was it? “Don’t you ever give a thought for the poor girl?” she snapped.
Howl finished the milk and gazed into the mug with a sentimental smile. “I think of her all the time,” he said. “Lovely, lovely Lettie Hatter.”
Sophie’s sympathy went for good, with a sharp bang. A good deal of anxiety took its place. Oh, Martha! she thought. You have been busy! So it wasn’t anyone in Cesari’s you were talking about!  
  
    第6章游戏规则
    豪尔那天没有外出，接下来几天也没有。苏菲静静坐在炉旁的椅子，避开他，思考着。
    她现在想明白了，虽然豪尔是罪有应得，但她生气的对象其实是女巫。这些天以来，她把对女巫的怒气全发泄在城堡上，她对自己以欺骗的手法待在这里，也觉得有些良心不安。豪尔或许认为卡西法喜欢她，但是苏菲知道，卡西法不过是抓住机会跟她谈一笔交易而已。苏菲觉得自己辜负了卡西法的期待。
    但是这样的情绪并未维持很久。苏菲发现一堆麦可需要修补的衣服，她由她的缝纫袋里拿出针、剪刀和线，开始缝缝补补。到那天傍晚，她的情绪已经恢复到可以加入卡西法那条关于炖锅的歌了。
    “工作很开心？”豪尔语带讽刺地问。
    “我需要再多一点工作。”苏菲说。
    “如果你非得有事忙，我的旧套装需要修补。”豪尔说。
    这似乎意味着豪尔不再生她的气了，苏菲终于放心，她那天早上几乎被吓到了。
    豪尔显然还没抓到他锁定的女孩，苏菲听到麦可问他一些很明显的相关问题，但是豪尔总是很滑溜地避免回答。“真是个泥鳅大王！”苏菲对一双麦可的袜子喃喃地说：“不能面对自己的邪恶。”她看着豪尔心神不宁地忙着，试着掩饰他的不满。这样的情绪，苏菲倒是颇能了解。
    在工作台那儿，豪尔做的比麦可努力，而且快速。以一种专业但又十分随便的态度，将咒语组合在一起。由麦可的表情看来，大部分的咒语不仅不寻常，而且很难。但是豪尔常做到一半就跑掉，冲上楼，到房里去找东西（当然一定是邪恶的东西），不一会儿，又冲到院子里去把弄一个大的咒语。苏菲将门打开一点缝隙偷瞧，很惊讶地看到这个外表优雅的巫师居然跪在泥地，长袖绑在脖子后头以免妨碍工作。他小心地举起一堆纠缠在一起的金属，将它们变成某种东西的骨架。
    那个咒语是为国王做的。一位打扮过度、身上洒满香水的传讯者，带着国王的信和长长的说辞到来。他说豪尔必然有许多其他重要顾客的工作要做，但不知是否能拨出时间，将他能力强大、善于发明的脑力，稍稍用在国王所遭逢的一个小问题上？也就是说呢，国王陛下想知道，如何能让沉重的货车经过沼泽区和崎岖不平的路面。豪尔的回答同样非常彬彬有礼，又臭又长。他拒绝了，但是信差又讲了半个钟头。最后，他和豪尔互相行礼，豪尔同意弄那个咒语。
    “事情有点不太妙，”信差走后，豪尔跟麦可说：“苏利曼干吗要跑到荒地失踪不见？现在国王似乎认定我可以接续他的工作。”
    “苏利曼绝对不如你有创造力。”麦可说。
    “我呢，是太有耐心又太客气了！”豪尔沮丧地说：“我应该跟他狠狠敲一笔的！”
    其实豪尔对避难港的客人也同样耐心而客气，但是麦可焦虑地指出，问题在于豪尔对这些人的收费实在太低。麦可这些牢骚是在豪尔耐心花上一个小时倾听一个渔夫太太解释说，为何她还不能付他一分钱；随后又几乎免费地为某个船长弄风咒语后忍不住说的。豪尔逃避麦可唠叨的方法是给他上魔法课。
    苏菲边在麦可的衬衫上面缝扣子，边听豪尔跟麦可从头讲解一个咒语。“我知道我这样讲似乎有些草率，”豪尔说：“但是你真的无需抄袭无。记住，永远都要先小心地读一遍。它的形状应该会透露许多讯息：看它是会自我完成、自我发现，或者本身就是个简单魔法，还是需要混合行动和语言？等你决定后，回头再读一遍，然后决定哪个部分说的是真的，哪个部分只是故意放在那里困惑人的。你现在已逐渐接触到比较高阶的魔法，你会发现每个有力的魔法都至少有一个故意植入的错误或迷题，以避免以外发生，你必须将它找出来。现在，就拿这个咒语来说……”
    听着麦可对豪尔提出的问题犹豫地回答，看着豪尔以一支样式奇特、永远不用添加墨汁的鹅毛笔在纸上潦草地写下短评，苏菲发现她也能从中学到许多。她突然想到，若玛莎可以在菲菲克丝太太那里找到将自己和乐蒂变为对方的咒语，她也应该能在这里办到。运气好的话，也许根本不需要卡西法。
    当豪尔确定麦可终于忘记他跟避难港的人的收费问题时，他带他到后院去帮忙弄国王要的咒语。苏菲站起来，蹒跚地走到工作台。咒语写得倒是很清楚，但她完全败给豪尔那一笔草字。“没看过字是这样写的！”她对骷髅头抱怨：“他是用笔还是用火钳写字？”她热切地翻阅工作台上所有的纸片，检视那些放在形状扭曲瓶里的粉末和液体。“是的，我承认，”她跟骷髅头说：“我在探人隐私，也略有收获。我找到了治疗鸡瘟及百日咳的方法，还有唤来一阵风，以及除去脸毛的方法。如果玛莎找到的是这些，她现在一定还待在菲菲克丝太太那里。”
    豪尔近来后，似乎检查了所有被苏菲动过的东西，但动机几乎肇因与他静不下心。在那之后，他似乎不知道该做什么才好，苏菲听到他夜里上上下下地徘徊。第二天早晨，他只在浴室里待一个钟头。当麦可穿上他最好的紫蓝色丝绒服，准备前往位于金斯别利城的王宫时，豪尔一副迫不及待的样子。他们两人合力将体积大的符咒用金纸包起来，依它的体积看来，那符咒显然非常的轻，麦可一个人就可以轻易拿起来。麦可两手合抱着包裹，豪尔为他开门，将门把转到红色向下，送他到房子皆粉刷得光鲜亮丽的街道上。
    “他们等着要货，”豪尔交代说：“你应该只需要等一个早上，告诉他们连小孩都可以操作，弄给他们看。等你回来的时候，我会留一个有力的咒语让你去忙。再见。”
    他关上门，然后又开始在房里来来回回走动。“我的脚会痒，”他突然说：“我要去山岗那儿走一走。告诉麦可，要给他的咒语放在工作台上。还有这个，你这样才不会无聊。”
    他不知从哪里弄来一件和那件蓝银色套装一样时髦的灰色及大红色的套装，丢到苏菲膝上。豪尔由墙角拿起吉他，将门转到绿色向下，一脚踏在马克奇平上空飞掠的石楠。
    “他脚痒，亏他说得出口！”卡西法咕哝着。避难港有雾，卡西法在木头里蹲得低低的，不安地晃来晃去，躲避由烟囱滴下来的水滴。“他以为我是什么感觉？困在这样湿漉漉的炉架里！”
    “那你至少要给我一个怎样帮你破除契约的暗示吧！”苏菲说着，一边将豪尔那件灰红色的衣服抖开来。“我的天，你真是件漂亮的衣服，虽然有点破旧了。你是被制造来吸引女孩子的，对不对？”
    “我给过你暗示的！”卡西法嘶声说。
    “那你得再给我一遍，因为我完全没印象。”
    “如果我给你暗示，又告诉你那是暗示，那就叫做提供消息，这是不被允许的。”卡西法说：“咦，你要去哪里？”
    “去做一件只有他们两人都不在时，我才敢做的事。”苏菲说着，把门把转到黑色朝下，然后打开门。
    门外是一片虚无，不是黑的、灰的，甚或白色，不厚也不透明，不动、没有味道，也不予人任何感觉。苏菲小心地对着门外伸出一根指头，外面不冷也不热，只能说——毫无感觉，真的是全然的虚无。
    “这是什么？”她问卡西法。
    卡西法跟苏菲一样充满好奇。它望了雾气，蓝脸长长地伸出炉架来窥看门外。“我不知道，”它悄声地是说：“我只负责持家。我只知道在没人走得过去的城堡那一面，感觉是在很遥远的地方。”
    “似乎比月亮还远。”苏菲说。她将门关上，门把转到绿色朝下，犹豫片刻，开始对着楼梯蹒跚地走过去。
    “他锁起来了，”卡西法说：“他交代说如果你又想窥探时，就这样告诉你。”
    “噢，”苏菲问道：“上头有什么？”
    “我一无所知。”卡西法说：“我对楼上是一无所知。你知道这有多令人沮丧吗？我甚至无法真正地看到城堡外面。我看到的部分只够让我判断该走的方向。”
    苏菲觉得同样沮丧，她坐下来修补那件灰红色的衣服。买可很快就回来了。
    “国王马上就接见我了。”他说：“他……”他停下来环目四望，眼睛看到那个原来放吉他的空荡墙角。“噢，天哪！”他大叫：“怎么有是那个女朋友！我以为她已经爱上他，事情好几天前已经完全成为过去式了。她怎么要花这么久？”
    卡西法邪恶地嘶嘶作响：“是你错读讯息了！无心豪尔发现这位小姐特别难缠。他是故意吊她胃口，离开几天，看那样会不会有帮助，如此而已。”
    “算了！”麦可说：“反正那意味着麻烦就对了。我还在那里希望他又回复理智了呢！”
    苏菲将衣服重重放下。“真是的！”她责怪道：“你们两人怎么能这样子谈论那么邪恶的事？卡西法是个恶魔，所以，我想我是不能怪它。但是麦可，你……”
    “我不认为我是邪恶的。”麦可抗议道。
    “如果你以为我对这一切都无动于衷，那你就错了。”他说：“你知道豪尔这样不断地谈恋爱给我们带来多少麻烦吗？我们被告过，被对方的追求者拿刀追杀过，还有拿着面杆的妈妈，手持棍棒的父亲和叔伯舅舅。对，还有阿姨。阿姨最最可怕，她们拿着帽针追杀。但是最糟糕的是，当那女孩发现豪尔的住处，找上门来哭哭啼啼，豪尔又后门溜走，却留下我跟卡西法在这里收拾残局的时候。”
    “我讨厌那些不快乐的女孩，”卡西法说：“她们对着我滴水。我宁可她们生气。”
    “等等，让我们把话说清楚，”苏菲枯瘦的手紧抓着膝上的红衣服，说：“豪尔到底把那些可怜的女孩怎么了？我听人说，他吃掉她们的心脏，然后收走他们的灵魂。”
    麦可很不自在地笑了笑。“那你一定是由马克奇平来的。我们刚把城堡安顿好时，他要我去那里破坏他的名声。我、呃，就说了那一类的话。那是阿姨们常用来警告女孩子的话。而且，就某种意义来说，也没有错……”
    “豪尔的感情非常善变，”卡西法说：“对方一爱上他，他的感情就结束了，再也不想跟对方有任何瓜葛。”
    “但在对方尚未爱上他之前，他又无法定下心来。”麦可急切地说：“他会变的无可理喻。我总会祈祷那女孩子赶快爱上他，这样事情才能回复正常。”
    “那是在她们找到他之前。”卡西法说。
    “要是他够聪明的话，他应该只给他们假名。”苏菲语带轻蔑地说。那轻蔑是为了隐藏她真正的感觉——她觉得自己有点愚蠢。
    “有啊，每次都是用假名啊！”麦可说：“他喜欢使用假名，也爱伪装，即使不是在追女孩子时也一样。你有没有注意到？他在避难港叫做建肯魔法师，金斯别利叫围龙巫师，还有在城堡里叫做可怕的豪尔。”
    苏菲一直都没发现，这让她跟觉得自己愚不可及，而这种感觉又令她生气。“总之，我还是觉得四处让可怜的女孩们不快乐，是很邪恶的一件事。”她说：“这样很没良心，而且毫无意义。”
    “他就是这样啦！”卡西法说。
    麦可拉一把三脚凳到炉前，坐在上头。苏菲边缝纫，他一边告诉她豪尔的爱情故事，以及一些事后发生的麻烦事。苏菲对着那件好衣服喃喃自语：“所以你吃人家的心了，对不对？当阿姨的提到甥女时怎么会用那么奇怪的字眼？好衣服，搞不好她们其实是想把你穿上身？有个愤怒的阿姨追着你跑是什么滋味？”当麦可跟她提起某个特定的阿姨的故事时。苏菲突然想到，豪尔的名声在马克奇平那样被传播，其实没什么不好。她可以想象，像乐蒂那样个性倔强的女孩，万一爱上了豪尔，结果变的很不快乐时会是如何。
    麦可才建议说吃中饭，卡西法也一如平常地呻吟抱怨时，豪尔突然开门走了进来，比以往更不快乐。
    “要吃点什么吗？”苏菲问他。
    “不要。”豪尔说：“卡西法，浴室里给我些热水。”他闷闷不乐地在浴室门口站了一会儿。“苏菲，你是不是研究过我架上的咒语？”
    苏菲觉得自己越加愚蠢。她打死也不向承认，她曾在那些瓶子和小包里翻找女孩的身体器官。“我什么也没碰。”她边起身去拿煎锅边凛然地回答。
    “我希望你真的没有。”麦可看着关上的浴室门，不按地说。
    苏菲在煎煮中餐时，浴室里传来不间断的水声。“他用了许多热水，”卡西法在煎锅下说：“我想他在染发，希望你没有动到他的发咒语。这个长相平凡，发色又跟泥巴一样的人，对外表虚荣的要命。”
    “噢，闭嘴！”苏菲斥道：“我东西全部有放回原处的。”因为太生气了，她把锅里的蛋和熏肉全倒在卡西法身上，卡西法当然是狼吞虎咽地把它们吃掉。苏菲在劈啪的火焰上又煎了一锅。她跟麦可就吃这一锅。
    吃完，正收拾着，卡西法则以蓝色的火舌添着紫色的嘴唇，浴室的门突然砰一声打开，豪尔冲出来，绝望地大叫：“看看这个！”他叫道：“看看这个！这个活动型混乱制造机到底对我的咒语干了什么好事？”
    苏菲和麦可迅速转过身来看着豪尔。他头发湿湿的，但是，除了这一点之外，他们两人都看不出他的头发有何不同。
    “如果你是指我的话……”苏菲开口。
    “就是你！看！”豪尔尖叫。他在三脚凳上用力坐下，手指指着他的头发：“看！你们仔细看看！我的头发毁了！看起来像一锅蛋和熏肉！”
    麦可和苏菲紧张地弯身看他的头发。但是看来似乎跟平常一样，一直到发根都是淡黄色的，唯一的差别或许在于有那么一点点、一点点的红色。苏菲觉得那看起来还蛮不错的，令她想起自己年轻时的发色。
    “我觉得这个很不错啊。”她说。
    “什么！”豪尔尖叫：“你竟然这么认为！你是故意弄的！你不把我弄到悲惨至极不肯罢休！看好，这是赤黄色的！我得等到头发都长出来才敢出去见人！”他伸出双手激动地叫道：“太令人绝望了！真是恐怖！”
    房间突然暗了下来，巨大、云状的人形由四个角落涌出，对着麦可和苏菲逼进，口中嚎叫着。嚎叫变成呻吟，然后变成绝望的嘶吼，再变成痛苦与恐怖的尖叫。苏菲以两手掩住耳朵，但是尖叫声穿透双手，越来越响，且一分钟比一分钟恐怖。卡西法迅速退缩到炉架里，在最低的木头处微微闪着火花。麦可抓住苏菲的手肘，将她拖到门边。他将门把转到蓝色朝下，踢开门，以最快的速度逃到避难港的街上。
    街上所听到的声音几乎跟城堡里一样恐怖，整条路上的门都打开，人们捂着耳朵跑出来。
    “让他那样一个人待在家里没关系吗？”苏菲颤抖着声音问。
    “是的，”麦可说：“如果他认为那是你的错，你最好还是这样。”
    他们匆匆穿过避难港镇，可怕的尖叫声在后头紧追不舍，一大群人跟着他们跑。虽然雾已经转为会淋湿人的毛毛雨，大家还是往港口或沙滩跑，在那儿，这刺耳的声音似乎比较能够忍受，广大的海洋似乎能将一部分的噪音吸收掉。当噪音变成一个巨大、令人心碎的呜咽时，大家都湿漉漉地挤在一起，看着被雾笼罩的白色地平线，以及停泊在港口的船只上滴水的绳索。苏菲想到，这是她这辈子这么近地看海，但是很遗憾，她一点都没有快乐的心情。
    哭泣声渐渐小时，换成长长的、悲哀的叹息，然后，一切归于沉没。人们开始谨慎地往回走，回镇里去。其中几位怯生生地走过来问苏菲：“女巫太太，可怜的魔法师出了什么事吗？”
    “他今天有些不快乐，”麦可说：“走吧，我想我们可以冒险回家了。”
    他们沿着码头的石岸边走着，好几位水手从泊船上担心地叫唤，想知道噪音是否意味着有暴风雨或是坏运气。
    “没有的事，”苏菲大声回答：“都过去了。”
    但是事情还没过去。他们回到巫师家，由外表看来，这是一栋很普通的、歪歪的小建筑。如果麦可没跟她在一起，她绝对认不出来。麦可非常小心地打开那扇小小的、外表寒酸的门，看见豪尔仍坐在凳子上。他以一种全然绝望的姿态坐着，全身盖满厚厚的绿色黏液。
    可怕的、惊人的、数量多的不得了的绿色黏液！它将豪尔整个覆盖住，从头和肩膀成块状的垂下来，在膝上及手上堆积，然后顺着腿流下，再滴下凳子，在地板上形成缓缓流动的水塘以及会爬动的水池，几乎覆盖了整个地板。它长长的手指已伸入壁炉，发出难闻的味道。
    卡西法哑着声音微弱地喊道：“救我！”它只剩两小撮绝望的、闪动着的小火苗。“这东西快将我扑灭了。”
    苏菲拉起裙子，对着豪尔走去。她想尽量走近些，却没办法。“停！”她叫道：“马上就停！你的举止像个婴儿！”
    豪尔没有动也没有回答。他的脸在黏液后面瞪着，苍白、悲哀的眼睛睁得大大的。
    “我们该怎么办？他死了吗？”麦可在门边发着抖问。
    麦可是个好孩子，苏菲想着，但是在面临危机时却有点怯懦。“没有，当然没有。”她回道：“要不是为了卡西法，他要整天当全身满是黏液的鳗鱼，也不干我的事！把浴室门打开。”
    当麦可在一坨坨黏液中努力要往浴室走时，苏菲将围裙丢进壁炉，以阻止更多的黏液流近卡西法。她拿起铲子，铲起一堆堆的灰烬，将它们抛在最大的黏液水塘上。它发出激烈的嘶嘶声，房里充满蒸汽，味道比原先还不堪。苏菲卷起袖子，弯下腰，抓住豪尔黏滑的膝盖，然后将豪尔连凳子一起推向浴室。她的脚在黏液上滑来滑去，但是那些缓缓流动的黏液也有助于凳子的推动，他们只好把他推到淋浴间里。
    “卡西法，热水！”苏菲紧绷着脸喘息，叫道：“要非常热的。”
    他们花了一小时才把他身上的黏液洗掉。麦可又花了一小时才劝动他离开凳子，换上干燥的衣服，幸好，苏菲刚修补好的那件灰红色套装挂在椅背上，没沾上黏液。蓝银色那件则毁了，苏菲要麦可将它泡在浴缸里。同时，一边发牢骚，嘴里念念有词，一边拿来更多的热水。她将门把绿色朝下，把所有的黏液一股脑全扫到长满石楠的荒野上。黏液留下一道轨迹，仿佛蜗牛在石楠上爬过一样，但这大概是去除黏液最容易的方法了。住在会移动的城堡里就有这样的好处，苏菲边洗地板边想到，豪尔的噪音是否也会经由城堡传出去？那样的话，她可要同情马克奇平镇的镇民了。
    到这个时候，苏菲已经又累又气了，她知道绿色黏液是豪尔对她的报复。当麦可终于带着豪尔走出浴室时，她毫无表示同情的意愿。豪尔穿着灰红色的衣服，麦可领着他，温柔地让他在壁炉边的椅子坐下。
    “那实在有够笨的！”卡西法劈啪开骂：“你是想把你最好的魔法全使出来还是怎样？”
    豪尔充耳不闻，只是坐着，看起来很悲哀，而且还发着抖。
    麦可难过地说：“我没办法要他开口说话。”
    “那不过是在闹孩子气！”苏菲说。玛莎和乐蒂都很精于此道，她知道该如何处理。但话又说回来，打一个因为头发颜色不如意而歇斯底里的巫师的屁股，似乎太冒险了。经验告诉她，闹脾气的原因常不是表面所见的那样。她要卡西法稍微移开，好让她把一锅牛奶在木头上摆稳。牛奶温热后，她塞一杯在豪尔手里，说：“喝吧！现在，告诉我这一切都是为了什么？跟那位你一直去拜访的小姐有关吗？”
    豪尔可怜兮兮地嗫饮着牛奶。“是的，”他说：“我故意离开她几天，看她会不会想我，结果没有，上次见到她时，她已经说她不确定了，这次却告诉我还有另外一个人。”
    他听起来非常痛苦，苏菲觉得蛮同情他的。现在他的头发干了，她很歉疚地注意到，那几乎是粉红色的。
    “她是我在这些地方里所见过最美丽的女子，”豪尔悲伤地往下说：“我非常爱她。但是她对我的深情嗤之以鼻，反而同情另一个家伙。在我对她这么好之后，她怎能接受别人呢？通常我一出现，她们就会把另一个人甩了的。”
    苏菲的同情心一下子大大缩水。她突然想到，如果豪尔能那么轻易地将自己盖满绿色黏液，他应该也很容易就能将自己的头发变回他想要的颜色。“那你干吗不调制一种爱情药，喂她吃下，然后把事情解决掉。”她问道。
    “噢，那不行，”豪尔说：“那就违反游戏规则了，那会破坏一切乐趣。”
    苏菲的同情心进一步缩水。游戏？“你难道从没为那可怜的女孩设想过？”她斥责道。
    豪尔喝完牛奶，带着多情的微笑凝视着杯子。“我整天想她，”他说：“可爱的、可爱的乐蒂.海特。”
    苏菲的同情心就这么再见了，代之而起的是许多焦虑。“噢，玛莎！”她想着：“你说你一直忙着！原来你说的不是在希赛利工作的人啊！”
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Chapter 7 In which a scarecrow prevents Sophie from leaving t
Only a particularly bad attack of aches and pains prevented Sophie from setting out for Market Chipping that evening. But the drizzle in Porthaven had gotten into her bones. She lay in her cubbyhole and ached and worried about Martha. It might not be so bad, she thought. She only had to tell Martha that the suitor she was not sure about was none other than Wizard Howl. That would scare Martha off. And she would tell Martha that the way to scare Howl off was to announce that she was in love with him, and then perhaps to threaten him with aunts.
Sophie was still creaking when she got up next morning. “Curse the Witch of the Waste!” she muttered to her stick as she got it out, ready to leave. She could hear Howl singing in the bathroom as if he had never had a tantrum in his life. She tiptoed to the door as fast as she could hobble.
Howl of course came out of the bathroom before she reached it. Sophie looked at him sourly. He was all spruce and dashing, scented gently with apple blossom. The sunlight from the window dazzled off his gray-and-scarlet suit and made a faintly pink halo of his hair.
“I think my hair looks rather good this color,” he said.
“Do you indeed?” grumped Sophie.
“It goes with this suit,” said Howl. “You have quite a touch with your needle, don’t you? You’ve given the suit more style somehow.”
“Huh!” said Sophie.
Howl stopped with is hand on the knob above the door. “Aches and pains troubling you?” he said. “Or has something annoyed you?”
“Annoyed?” said Sophie. “Why should I be annoyed? Someone only filled the castle with rotten aspic, and deafened everyone in Porthaven, and scared Calcifer to a cinder, and broke a few hundred hearts. Why should that annoy me?”
Howl laughed. “I apologize,” he said, turning the knob to red-down. “The King wants to see me today. I shall probably be kicking my heels in the Palace until evening, but I can do something for your rheumatism when I get aback. Don’t forget to tell Michael I left that spell for him on the bench.” He smiled sunnily at Sophie and stepped out among the spires of Kingsbury.
“And you think that makes it all right!” Sophie growled as the door shut. But the smile had mollified her. “If that smile works on me, then it’s no wonder poor Martha doesn’t know her own mind!” she muttered.
“I need another log before you go,” Calcifer reminded her.
Sophie hobbled to drop another log into the grate. Then she set off to the door again. But here Michael came running downstairs and snatched the remains of a loaf off the bench as he ran to the door. “You don’t mind, do you?” he said in an agitated way. “I’ll bring a fresh loaf when I come back. I’ve got something very urgent to see to today, but I’ll be back by evening. If the sea captain calls for his wind spell, it’s on the end of the bench, clearly labeled.” He turned the knob green-downward and jumped out onto the windy hillside, loaf clutched to his stomach. “See you!” he shouted as the castle trundled away past him and the door slammed.

  
  “Botheration!” said Sophie. “Calcifer, how does a person open the door when there’s no one inside the castle?”
“I’ll open it for you, or Michael. Howl does it himself,” said Calcifer.
So no one would be locked out when Sophie left. She was not at all sure she would be coming back, but she did not intend to tell Calcifer. She gave Michael time to get well on the way to wherever he was going and set off for the door again. This time Calcifer stopped her.
“If you’re going to be away long,” he said, “you might leave some logs where I can reach them.”
“Can you pick up logs?” Sophie asked, intrigued in spite of her impatience.
For answer, Calcifer stretched out a blue arm-shaped flame divided into green fingerlike flames at the end. It was not very long, nor did it look strong. “See? I can almost reach the hearth,” he said proudly.
Sophie stacked a pile of logs in front of the grate so that Calcifer could at least reach the top one. “You’re not to burn them until you’ve got them in the grate,” she warned him, and she set off for the door yet again.
This time somebody knocked on it before she got there.
It was one of those days, Sophie thought. It must be the sea captain. She put up her hand to turn the knob blue-down.
“No, it’s the castle door,” Calcifer said. “But I’m not sure-”
Then it was Michael back for some reason, Sophie thought as she opened the door.
A turnip face leered at her. She smelled mildew. Against the wide blue sky, a ragged arm ending in a stump of a stick wheeled round and tried to paw at her. It was a scarecrow. It was only made of sticks and rags, but it was alive, and it was trying to come in.
“Calcifer!” Sophie screamed. “Make the castle go faster!”
The stone blocks round the doorway crunched and grated. The green-brown moorland was suddenly rushing past. The scarecrow’s stick arm thumped on the door, and then went scraping along the wall of the castle as the castle left it behind. It wheeled its other arm round and seemed to try to clutch at the stonework. It meant to get into the castle if it could.
Sophie slammed the door shut. This, she thought, just showed how stupid it was for an eldest child to try and seek her fortune! That was the scarecrow she had propped in the hedge on her way to the castle. She had made jokes to it. Now, as if her jokes had brought it to evil life, it had followed her all the way here and tried to paw at her face. She ran to the window to see if the thing was still trying to get into the castle.
Of course, all she could see was a sunny day in Porthaven, with a dozen sails going up a dozen masts beyond the roofs opposite, and a cloud of seagulls circling the blue sky.
“That’s the difficulty of being in several places at once!” Sophie said to the human skull on the bench.
Then, all at once, she discovered the real drawback to being an old woman. Her heart gave a leap and a little stutter, and then seemed to be trying to bang its way out f her chest. It hurt. She shook all over and her knees trembled. She rather thought she might be dying. It was all she could do to get to the chair by the hearth. She sat there panting, clutching her chest.

  
  “Is something the matter?” Calcifer asked.
“Yes. My heart. There was a scarecrow at the door!” Sophie gasped.
“What has a scarecrow to do with your heart?” Calcifer asked.
“It was trying to get in here. It gave me a terrible fright. And my heart-but you wouldn’t understand, you silly young demon!” Sophie panted. “You haven’t got a heart.”
“Yes I have,” Calcifer said, as proudly as he had revealed his arm. “Down in the glowing part under the log. And don’t call me young. I’m a good million years older than you are! Can I reduce the speed of the castle now?”
“Only if the scarecrow’s gone,” said Sophie. “Has it?”
“I can’t tell,” said Calcifer. “It’s not flesh and blood, you see. I told you I couldn’t really see outside.”
Sophie got up and dragged herself to the door again, feeling ill. She opened it slowly and cautiously. Green steepness, rocks, and purple slopes whirled past, making her feel dizzy, but she took a grip on the doorframe and leaned out to look along the wall to the moorland they were leaving behind. The scarecrow was about fifty yards to the rear. It was hopping from clump to heather clump with a sinister sort of valiance, holding its fluttering stick arms at an angle to balance it on the hillside. As Sophie watched, the castle left it further behind. It was slow, but it was still following. She shut the door.
“It’s still there,” she said. “Hopping after us. Go faster.”
“But that upsets all my calculations,” Calcifer explained. “I was aiming to circle the hills and get back to where Michael left us in time to pick him up this evening.”
“Then go twice as fast and circle the hills twice. As long as you leave that horrible thing behind!” said Sophie.
“What a fuss!” Calcifer grumbled. But he increased the castle’s speed. Sophie could actually, for the first time, feel it rumbling around her as she sat huddled in her chair wondering if she was dying. She did not want to die yet, before she had talked to Martha.
As the day went on, everything in the castle began to jiggle with its speed. Bottles chinked. The skull clattered on the bench. Sophie could hear things falling off the shelf in the bathroom and splashing into the bath where Howl’s blue-and-silver suit was still soaking. She began to feel a little better. She dragged herself to the door again and looked out, wit her hair flying in the wind. The ground was streaking past underneath. The hills seemed to be spinning slowly as the castle sped across them. The grinding and rumbling nearly deafened her, and smoke was puffing out behind in blasts. But the scarecrow was a tiny black dot on a distant slope by then. Next time she looked, it was out of sight entirely.
“Good. Then I shall stop for the night,” said Calcifer. “That was quite a strain.”
The rumbling died away. Things stopped jiggling. Calcifer went to sleep, in the way fires do, sinking among the logs until they were rosy cylinders plated with white ash, with only a hint of blue and green deep underneath.
Sophie felt quite spry again by then. She went and fished six packets and a bottle out of the slimy water in the bath. The packets were soaked. She did not dare leave them that way after yesterday, so she laid them on the floor and, very cautiously, sprinkled them with the stuff labeled DRYING POWER. They were dried almost instantly. This was encouraging. Sophie let the water out of the bath and tried the POWER on Howl’s suit. That dried too. It was still stained green and rather smaller than it had been, but it cheered Sophie up to find that she could put at least something right.

  She felt cheerful enough to busy herself getting supper. She bundled everything on the bench into a heap round the skull at one end and began chopping onions. “At least your eyes don’t water, my friend,” she told the skull. “Count your blessings.”
The door sprang open.
Sophie nearly cut herself in her fright, thinking it was the scarecrow again. But it was Michael. He burst jubilantly in. he dumped a loaf, a pie, and a pink-and-white-striped box on top of the onions. Then he seized Sophie round her skinny waist and danced her round the room.
“It’s all right! It’s all right!” he shouted joyfully.
Sophie hopped and stumbled to keep out of the way of Michael’s boots. “Steady, steady!” she gasped, giddily trying to hold the knife where it would not cut either of them. “What is all right?”
“Lettie loves me!” Michael shouted, dancing her almost into the bathroom and then almost into the hearth. “She’s never even seen Howl! It was all a mistake!” He spun them both round in the middle of the room.
“Will you let me go before this knife cuts one of us!” Sophie squawked. “And perhaps explain a little.”
“Wee-oop!” Michael shouted. He whirled Sophie to the chair and dumped her into it, where she sat gasping. “Last night I wished you’d dyed his hair blue!” he said. “I don’t mind now. When Howl said ‘Lettie Hatter,’ I even thought of dying him blue myself. You can see the way he talks. I knew he was going to drop this girl, just like all the others, as soon as he’d got her to love him. And when I thought it was my Lettie, I-Anyway, you know he said there was another fellow, and I thought that was me! So I tore down to Market Chipping today. And it was all right! Howl must be after some other girl with the same name. Lettie’s never seen him.”
“Let’s get this straight,” Sophie said dizzily. “We are talking about the Lettie Hatter who works in Cesari’s pastry shop, are we?”
“Of course we are!” Michael said jubilantly. “I’ve loved her ever since she started work there, and I almost couldn’t believe when she said she loved me. She had hundreds of admirers. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Howl was one of them. I’m so relieved! I got you a cake from Cesari’s to celebrate. Where did I put it? Oh, here it is.”
He thrust the pink-and-white box at Sophie. Onion fell off it into her lap.
“How old are you, my child?” Sophie asked.
“Fifteen last May Day,” said Michael. “Calcifer sent fireworks up from the castle. Didn’t you, Calcifer? Oh, he’s asleep. You’re probably thinking I’m too young to be engaged-I’ve still got three years of my apprenticeship to run, and Lettie’s got even longer-but we promised one another, and we don’t mind waiting.”
Then Michael was about the right age for Martha, Sophie thought. And she knew by now he was a nice, steady lad with a career as a wizard ahead of him. Bless Martha’s heart! When she thought back to that bewildering May Day, she realized that Michael had been one of that shouting group leaning on the counter in front of Martha. But Howl had been outside in Market Square.

  “Are you sure your Lettie was telling the truth about Howl?” she asked anxiously.
“Positive,” said Michael. “I know when she’s lying. She stops twiddling her thumbs.”
“She does too!” said Sophie, chuckling.
“How do you know?” Michael asked in surprise.
“Because she’s my sis-ter- sister’s granddaughter,” said Sophie, “and as a small girl she was not always terribly truthful. But she’s quite young and-er…Well, suppose she changes as she grows. She-er-may not look quite the same in a year or so.”
“Neither will I,” said Michael. “People our age change all the time. It won’t worry us. She’ll still be Lettie.”
In a manner of speaking, Sophie thought. “But suppose she was telling the truth,” she went on anxiously, “and she just knew Howl under a false name?”
“Don’t worry, I thought of that!” said Michael. “I described Howl-you must admit he’s pretty recognizable-and she really hadn’t seen him or his wretched guitar. I didn’t even have to tell her he doesn’t know how to play the thing. She never set eyes on him, and she twiddled her thumbs all the time she said she hadn’t.”
“That’s a relief!” Sophie said, lying stiffly back in her chair. And it certainly was a relief about Martha. But it was not much of a relief, because Sophie was positive that the only other Lettie Hatter in the district was the real one. If there had been another, someone would have come into the hat shop and gossiped about it. It sounded like strong-minded Lettie, not giving in to Howl. What worried Sophie was that Lettie had told Howl her real name. She might not be sure about him, but she liked him enough to trust him with an important secret like that.
“Don’t look so anxious!” Michael laughed, leaning on the back of the chair. “Have a look at the cake I brought you.”
As Sophie started opening the box, it dawned on her that Michael had gone from seeing her as a natural disaster to actually liking her. She was so pleased and grateful that she decided to tell Michael the whole truth about Lettie and Martha and herself too. It was only fair to let him know the sort of family he meant to marry into. The box came open. It was Cesari’s most luscious cake, covered in cream and cherries and little curls of chocolate. “Oh!” said Sophie.
The square knob over the door clicked round to red-blob-down of its own accord and Howl came in. “What a marvelous cake! My favorite kind,” he said. “”Where did you get it?”
“I-er-I called in at Cesari’s,” Michael said in a sheepish, self-conscious way. Sophie looked up at Howl. Something was always going to interrupt her when she decided to say she was under a spell. Even a wizard, it seemed.
“It looks worth the walk,” Howl said, inspecting the cake. “I’ve heard Cesari’s is better that any of the cake shops in Kingsbury. Stupid of me never to have been in the place. And is that a pie I see on the bench?” He went over to look. “Pie in a bed of raw onions. Human skull looking put-upon.” He picked up the skull and knocked an onion ring out of its eyesocket. “I see Sophie has been busy again. Couldn’t you have restrained her, my friend?”

  
  The skull yattered its teeth at him. Howl looked startled and put it down 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 around 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, quiet 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 out a curse 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, Sophie dear.”
Sophie’s mouth opened in utter indignation. Michael said quickly, “Do you think we should move the castle? That’s why you invented it, wasn’t it?”
“That depends on Calcifer.” Howl looked over his shoulder at the barely smoking logs again. “I must say, if I think of the King and the Witch both after me, I get a craving for planting the castle on a nice, frowning rock a thousand miles away.”
Michael obviously wished he had not spoken. Sophie could see he was thinking that a thousand miles away was a terribly long way from Martha. “But what happens to your Lettie Hatter,” she said to Howl, “if you up and move?”
“I expect that will be all over by then,” Howl said absently. “But if I could only think of a way to get the King off my back…I know!” He lifted his fork, with a melting hunk of cream and cake on it, and pointed it at Sophie. “You can blacken my name to the King. You can pretend to be my old mother and plead for your blue-eyed boy.” He gave Sophie the smile which had no doubt charmed the Witch of the Waste and possibly Lettie too, firing it along the fork, across the cream, straight into Sophie’s eyes, dazzlingly. “If you can bully Calcifer, the King should give you no trouble at all.”
Sophie stared through the dazzle and said nothing. This, she thought, was where she slithered out. She was leaving. It was too bad about Calcifer’s contract. She had had enough of Howl. First green slime, then glaring at her for something Calcifer had done quite freely, and now this! Tomorrow she would slip off to Upper Folding and tell Lettie all about it.  
  
  
    第7章树篱间的稻草人
    若非她全身痛得非常厉害，苏菲当天傍晚就跑到马克奇平去了，但是避难港的阴雨令她的老骨头痛不可遏。她躺在她的小窝里，身上疼着，心里则担心着玛莎。情形或许不会太糟，她想。她只需告诉玛莎，她还不太确定要不要接受的那个追求者不是别人，正是豪尔巫师，那应该就足以将玛莎吓跑。接着她会告诉玛莎，只要宣称她爱上了豪尔，豪尔就会落跑，要不，也可以拿三姑六婆来吓唬他。
    第二天早晨，苏菲起床时全身仍然痛着。“诅咒那个荒地女巫！”她边拿出拐杖准备出门，边对着它咕哝。她可以听到豪尔在浴室里唱歌，一副他一辈子从未发过脾气的模样。她尽快地拐着脚，悄悄走到门边。
    但是豪尔在她走到门口前，就由浴室出来了。苏菲对他怒目而视。他看起来干净又时髦，身上有淡淡的苹果花味道。由窗口照射进来的阳光，衬得他那一身灰红色的外套分外好看，并在他金发上映出一环粉红。
    “我觉得我头发这个颜色还蛮好看的。”他说。
    “是吗？”苏菲没好气地回答。
    “和这套衣服蛮配的。”豪尔说：“你的女红还真不是盖的！好象让这套衣服变得很有型。”
    “哼！”苏菲以鼻子回答。
    豪尔握着门把停下来：“你是风湿痛吗？还是谁招惹你了？”
    “惹我？”苏菲回道：“我干吗被惹毛？不过是某人让城堡里充满了臭肉汁，害避难港的所有人耳聋，把卡西法吓成煤渣，让几百个女孩心碎而已。我干吗要被惹出火气！”
    豪尔大笑：“对不起啦！”将门转到红色朝下。“国王今天要见我，我今天大概会在宫里待到傍晚。不过，等我回来时，可以为你的风湿症想办法。我在工作台上给他留了一个咒语。”他对着苏菲粲然一笑，然后一脚踏向金斯别利城上空的无数个尖塔。
    “你以为这样就没事了吗！”苏菲对着关上的门咆哮，但是那微笑令她的怒气缓和下来。她喃喃地说：“如果那个微笑能对我有这样的影响力，就难怪可怜的玛莎会搞不清自己真正的心意了。”
    “你走前记得给我加根木头。”卡西法提醒她。
    苏菲拐着脚走过去，给它加一根木头，然后再度对着门走去，但是麦可却在这时冲下楼来，由工作台上匆匆抓过一截吃剩的面包后，冲到门边。“你不介意让我先走吧？”他声音里透着着急：“我回来时会带一条新的土司回来。我今天有很紧急的事得处理，不过我傍晚就会回来。如果船长要风的咒语，那就放在工作台的边边上，上面标明得很清楚。”
    他将门把转到绿色朝下，对着有风的山丘跳下去，面包紧按在肚子上，城堡由他身边转开，门关上的刹那，他大叫道：“再见！”
    “有够罗嗦！”苏菲嘟哝着：“卡西法，城堡里没人时，门怎么开呀？”
    “我可以替你和麦可开门，豪尔则自己会开。”卡西法回答。
    这样当她外出时，就不怕其他人会被门锁在门外了。她其实不太确定自己还会不会回来，但是她并不打算告诉卡西法。算算麦可已差不多到达他打算要去的地方了，她再度往门口走去，这次是卡西法阻止了她。
    “如果你要很久才回来，”它说：“你最好放一些木头在我够得到的地方。”
    “你可以拿起木头？”苏菲虽然不耐，却被引起了好奇心。
    卡西法伸出一只手臂壮的蓝色火焰，尾端有五条绿色、手指模样的火。手臂不长，看来也不强壮。“看吧，我几乎可以够到壁炉前的地面哩！”它骄傲地说。
    苏菲在炉架前方堆了一堆燃木，让卡西法至少能够到最上面的木头。“一定要放到炉架上才开始烧哦！”她往门口边走边叮咛着。
    但是这回她还没走到门口，却听到有人在外头敲门。
    真是注定要诸事不顺的一天！苏菲想着，一定是船长来了。她伸手将门把转到蓝色向下。
    “不，是城堡的大门，”卡西法说：“但是我不确定……”
    那就是麦可为了什么理由跑回来？她边想边伸手开门。
    一张萝卜脸在门口对她睨视，她可以闻到一股霉味。背对着广大的蓝空，一根连在木杆上的破旧褴褛的手臂兜转过来，对她挥呀挥的。那是一个稻草人！它不过是木杆和破布制成的，却有生命，而且想要进来。
    “卡西法！”苏菲尖叫起来：“让城堡动快一点！”
    门旁的石块发出嘎嘎声及摩擦声，绿褐色的湿地景色突然一下就飞逝过去。先是听到稻草人的手臂在门上敲打，接着是城堡飞离它时，稻草人的手臂划过城墙的声音。它旋过另一只手，试着抓住石壁，一副想尽办法进来的样子。
    苏菲把门关得死紧，她想着，这真是证明了当老人妄想要出来闯天下，是多么愚蠢！那是她来城堡的途中插在树篱间的稻草人。她跟它开玩笑，结果仿佛那些玩笑话真的让它活了过来似的，它竟然一路跟过来，还试着要抓她的脸。她冲到窗口，看它是不是还在那里想办法要进来。
    但是她唯一能见到的，是避难港普照的阳光。越过对面屋顶，可以看到许多船帆正在被升上桅杆，成群的海鸥在蓝天中巡弋飞翔。
    “一下子跑这么多地方就是这么错乱！”苏菲跟工作台上的骷髅说。
    就在那一刹那，她突然发现变老的最大坏处是什么。她的先是剧烈地跳了一下，接着不规则地跳了几下，然后就好象要一路冲出她的胸膛似的。好痛！她全身发抖，膝盖抖个不停。她真觉得自己快死了，她唯一能做的，是挣扎着到炉边的椅子上坐下。她坐着喘气，双手抓住胸口。
    “有什么不对吗？”卡西法问她。
    “是的，我的心脏。还有，门口有个稻草人。”边说边喘气。
    “稻草人跟你的心脏有什么关系？”卡西法问道。
    “它想进来。它真是把我吓坏了，我的心脏就……算了，你不会懂的，你这个傻呼呼的、年轻的小火魔！”她继续喘着气。“你又没有心脏。”
    “我有的！”卡西法说。语气跟它上次秀出它的手臂时一样骄傲。“就在木头底下发亮的地方。还有，别说我年轻，我可是比你老上几百万岁！我可以把城堡的速度降下来了吗？”
    “如果稻草人走掉了才可以。”苏菲问道。：“它走了没？”
    “不知道耶，”卡西法回答：“它不是血肉之躯。我无法真正看到外头。”
    苏菲站起来，勉强拖着脚步走到门边，觉得身体很不舒服。她慢慢地、小心翼翼地开门。绿色的陡坡、岩石以及紫色的缓坡快速地由眼前略过，这另她头昏。但是她紧抓住门框，探首外望，尤其是朝向飞离的湿地方向。稻草人在他们深厚约五十码处，单脚跳着，跳过树丛，以一种非比寻常的勇猛追赶着，两只鼓动着的手臂，张成一个特定的角度，以便在山坡上保持平衡。苏菲目送着它越离越远。它虽然速度很慢，但仍然固执地跟着。苏菲将门关上。
    “它还在，”苏菲说：“跳着在后面追赶我们。再快一点。”
    “但是那会把我所有的计算搞乱，”卡西法跟她解释：“我原先计划绕着群山飞一圈后，回到麦可离开的地方，好赶上傍晚接他回家。”
    “那就把速度加快一倍，绕两次好了。重点是要能把那可怕的家伙甩开。”苏菲说。
    “你实在是小题大做！”但是抱怨归抱怨，卡西法还是加快了城堡的速度。这是第一次，苏菲真正感受到整个城堡在震动。她缩在椅子上头，想说自己会不会就这样死去？她还不想死！至少在跟玛莎谈过之前不想。
    飞着飞着，城堡里所有的东西都随着高速晃动。瓶子叮当作响，骷髅头也在工作台上嘎嘎响。苏菲可以听到浴室里的东西有架上扑通扑通地掉到浴缸里，豪尔那件银蓝色的外衣还在浴缸里泡着呢！慢慢地，她感觉好一些了，再度拖着脚步来到门边往外探看，头发被风吹得飘扬起来。土地在下头快速流过，山丘仿佛在慢速旋转，震耳的隆隆声响几乎要令她耳聋，烟则大量地向后喷出。但是，稻草人已经成为远处缓坡上的一个小点，过一会她再看时，它已经完全消失了。
    “好极了！那我要停下来休息了。”卡西法说：“有够累的！”
    隆隆声渐渐消失，东西也不再震动。卡西法开始睡觉，像一般的火一样，沉到木头里去，木头的颜色成为带着白色灰烬的玫瑰色，只有最下头还剩一丁点蓝与绿。
    苏菲的精神都回来了。她到浴室里去，从浴缸黏答答的水里捞起六个小包和一个瓶子。小包都浸湿了。经过昨天的事件后，她不敢对它们不加处理。她将它们在地上摆开，小心地洒上一个标有‘干燥粉’的粉剂，它们几乎马上就干了，真是另人兴奋！她泄掉浴缸里的水，将粉试倒在豪尔的衣服上。咦，也干了！虽然上头还有绿色的捂渍，而且也缩水缩得厉害，苏菲还是很高兴她终于做对了一件事。
    因为心情不错，她开始忙着给自己弄晚餐。她把工作台上的东西全收起来，把台子边端的骷髅摆好，然后开始切洋葱。“知道你的眼睛不会掉泪，”她跟骷髅说：“你应该觉得庆幸。”
    门突然开了。
    苏菲吓得差点切到自己的手指，她还以为稻草人又来了，但是进来的是麦可。他喜洋洋地冲近来，将一条土司、一个派饼，和一个有粉红色和白色条纹的盒子丢到洋葱上，然后抓住苏菲的细腰满屋子乱转，跳起舞来。
    “没事了！没事了！”他高兴地大叫。
    苏菲跳着，步伐蹒跚，努力要避开麦可的靴子。“慢慢来，慢慢来，”她喘着气，被转得头昏眼花，同时还得把刀子拿好，免得割到人。“什么事没事了？”
    “乐蒂爱的是我！”麦可大叫，差点带着她跳进浴室，又差点跳进壁炉。“她从未见过豪尔！事情完全是误会一场！”他带着她在屋子中间转圈圈。
    “你可不可以在这把刀子割伤人之前将我放开？”苏菲叫道：“然后稍微给我解释一下。”
    “没问题！”他将苏菲转到椅子处，将她放开，苏菲坐着直喘气。“昨晚我恨不得你把他的头发染成蓝色。”他说：“现在则无所谓了。当豪尔提到‘乐蒂.海特’时，我甚至考虑要自己动手把他染成蓝色。看他说话的态度就知道了，我知道一旦他赢得她的芳心，他就会像对待所有其他女孩一样，将她甩了。我一想到那对象是我的乐蒂就……总之，你也记得豪尔说她有另一个追求者，我以为那是指我，所以我今天赶去马克奇平。结果没事！豪尔追的一定是另一个同名同性的女孩，因为乐蒂从未见过豪尔。”
    苏菲听得头昏昏的。“有件事我还没搞清楚。我们现在谈的是在希赛利糕饼店工作的乐蒂，对不对？”
    “当然！”麦可快乐地说：“她一开始在那儿工作，我就爱上她了。当她跟我说她爱我时，我几乎不敢相信。她的追求者怕有几百个！如果豪尔也是其中之一的话，我一点也不会觉得惊讶。我现在终于放心了！我帮你由希赛利带一块蛋糕回来庆祝。我把它放哪儿去了？啊，在这里。”
    他把那个粉红色及白色的盒子塞给苏菲，碎洋葱由盒子上掉到苏菲的裙子上。
    “孩子，你多大？”苏菲问他。
    “五月节刚满十五岁。”麦可回答道：“卡西法从城堡发射了烟火。对不对，卡西法？噢，它睡着了。你大概会觉得我还小，不该就这样定下来——我还得做三年学徒，乐蒂则更久。可是我们都跟对方承诺了，我们不介意等待。”
    这么说，麦可的年龄和玛莎还挺配的，苏菲想着。而这镇子相处下来，她也知道他是一个人很好、很稳重，将来会有巫师生涯的少年。玛莎真是运气不错！她回想起那个令人迷惘的五月节，原来麦可就在那一群挤在玛莎柜台前吼叫的人群里，但是当时豪尔也在方形市场现身……
    “你确定乐蒂跟你说的是实话？”她着急地问。
    “错不了的，”麦可说：“她说谎的话，我看得出，她会停止绕她的拇指。”
    “没错，她就是这样。”苏菲咯咯地笑。
    “你怎会知道？”麦可非常惊讶。
    “因为她是我的妹……妹妹的孙女儿。”苏菲说：“她小时候并不是很诚实。不过她还小……呃、恩……如果她长大后变了个样呢？她、呃……搞不好过个一年，长相就会变化……”
    “我也是啊！”麦可说：“我们这个年龄的人一天到晚都在变。我们才不担心这个。不管怎么变她还是乐蒂。”
    就某种意义而言，苏菲想着。“但是，”她着急地往下问：“也有可能她说的虽然是实话，但豪尔给她的确是假名？”
    “别担心！我都想过了。”麦可说：“我跟她描述豪尔的长相——你得承认他很好认。但是乐蒂真的从未见过他和他把那烂吉他。所以我也无需告诉她，他对吉他其实根本是一窍不通。她从未见过他！她跟我说的时候，拇指绕个不停。”
    “谢天谢地！”苏菲叹了一口气，僵硬地躺回椅子上，这样就不用为玛莎担心了。但是事情还没完哩！因为苏菲很确定另一个乐蒂.海特一定是指真正的乐蒂。如果镇上有人跟乐蒂同名同性的话，早有人会到帽子店里来八卦了。听起来很像是个倔强的乐蒂不对豪尔屈服。但苏菲担心的是，乐蒂居然跟豪尔说她的真名。她或许不确定自己是不是爱他，但她一定是喜欢他到某个程度，并且也信任他，才会把这么重要的秘密告诉他。
    “别这样一脸担心的好不好！”麦可笑起来，倚着椅背说：“看看我给你带了什么样的蛋糕。”
    苏菲开始动手打开盒子，她心里突然想到，麦可刚开始时简直视她为洪水猛兽，现在却真正地接纳她了。她既高兴又感激，心里决定要把关于玛莎、乐蒂以及自己的事都老老实实告诉他，让他知道他将来要结婚的对象的家庭是什么样子，这样对他才公平。盒子打开了，里面是希赛利最豪华的蛋糕，上面覆盖着奶油、樱桃和小小的巧克力卷。“噢！”苏菲惊叹道。
    就在这时，门柄响了一下，转到红色向下，接着豪尔走了进来：“好棒的蛋糕！是我最喜欢的！”他吼道：“哪儿买的？”
    “呃，我去希赛利买的。”麦可有些不好意思地说，苏菲抬起头来看着豪尔。每次当她下决心要说出她被人下了咒语时，总会被一些事情干扰或打断。现在可好了，连巫师都来搅局！
    “走这一趟看来很值得啊！”豪尔边说边看着蛋糕。“我听说希赛利的蛋糕比金斯别利城所有的糕饼店都来得好吃。我从不曾光顾那家点，看来是个错误。工作台上那个是派饼吗？”他走过去看。“把派饼放在一堆生洋葱之间？骷髅好象也受不了那股味了。”他拿起骷髅头，敲掉粘在眼窝上的一环洋葱，对骷髅说：“苏菲又在找事忙了。朋友，你就不能帮着劝阻她一下吗？”
    骷髅双排牙齿互碰，喀喀作响。豪尔吓了一跳，很快将它放下。
    “有什么不对劲吗？”麦可似乎对他的表情知之甚详。
    “有的，”豪尔说：“我得找个人去国王面前抹黑我。”
    “马车咒语出了什么差错吗？”麦可问。
    “不，那咒语的结果很完美。但麻烦也就出在这里，”豪尔边说边不停地旋转食指上的洋葱圈。“现在国王想逼我去做别的事。卡西法，我们不小心点的话，他就要任命我做皇家魔法师了。”卡西法没法回答。豪尔踱到炉边，发现卡西法在睡觉。“麦可，把它叫起来，我得跟它商量商量。”
    麦可丢了两根木头下去，并呼唤它。但是除了一缕细细的烟之外，什么都没发生。
    “卡西法！”豪尔大叫，但还是没用。豪尔对麦可投过不可思议的眼神，然后做了一件苏菲从没见过他做过的事——他弯身拿起火钳。“卡西法，对不起了！”边说边将火钳伸到未燃的木头下戳弄。“起来！”
    一阵黑色的浓烟窜起，随即停住。“走开！”卡西法呻吟道：“我很累！”
    豪尔听了，脸色一下变的十分凝重。“它怎么了？我从没见过它这样。”
    “我想是因为稻草人的缘故。”苏菲说。
    跪在地上的豪尔以膝盖为轴，呼地一下转过身来，玻璃珠似的眼睛直直望进她的双眼。
    “你又干了什么好事了？”苏菲在解释时，他的目光仍然丝毫没有放松。“稻草人？卡西法会因为一个稻草人而同意加快城堡的速度？亲爱的苏菲，你最好告诉我你是如何威胁火魔，让它居然肯乖乖听你摆布？我真的很想知道！”
    “我没有威胁它。”苏菲说：“我被那稻草人吓坏了，卡西法可怜我才这么做。”
    “被稻草人吓坏了，所以卡西法可怜你……”豪尔重复着：“好苏菲，卡西法从不同情人的。总之，希望你会喜欢拿洋葱和冷饼派当晚餐，因为你差点把卡西法弄熄了！”
    “还有蛋糕。”麦可说，试着当和事老。
    食物似乎令豪尔的气消了一些，但是整个用餐期间，他不时焦虑地看着壁炉里未燃的木头。派饼冷着吃也挺可口，洋葱经苏菲在醋里浸泡后也变得相当好吃，蛋糕则好吃得要命。吃蛋糕时，麦可鼓起勇气问豪尔，国王到底要什么。
    “还没什么最后的决定，”豪尔忧心忡忡地说：“不过他曾就他弟弟的事征询我的意见。此事大大不妙！显然贾斯丁王子负气离家之前他们曾大吵一架，所以人们有些闲言闲语。国王显然希望我能主动提出去寻找他弟弟。而我这个笨蛋到了王宫，偏又说什么我不认为苏利曼巫师已经死了，结果事情只有更糟。”
    “你为什么想从搜寻王子的工作开溜？”苏菲逼问他：“难道你认为自己会找不到他？”
    “你不只会欺负人，还很无礼！”豪尔说。他还没原谅她对卡西法所做的事。“如果你一定要知道的话，我不想去是因为我知道我可以找到他。贾斯丁和苏利曼是好朋友，贾斯丁所以和国王吵架，是因为他告诉国王他要去找苏利曼，他认为国王一开始就不该让苏利曼去荒地。好，我想就连你也一定知道，荒地有个很坏的女士。去年她发誓要将我活活油炸，还送了一个咒语来追杀我。我之所以能够逃掉，是因为我够谨慎，给她的是假名。”
    苏菲简直不敢相信。“你是说，你甩了荒地女巫？”
    豪尔又切了一块蛋糕，表情悲伤中带着真诚。“话不该这么说。我承认有一阵子我以为自己是喜欢她的。就某方面而言，她是一个很悲伤的女人，没人爱她。印格利国的每个男人都怕她怕得要死。亲爱的苏菲，你应该知道那是什么样的感觉。”
    苏菲觉得受了天大的侮辱，张大最准备抗议。麦可很快接口：“你认为我们应该把城堡迁走吗？你当初就是因为这样才造出这座承包的吗？”
    “那要看卡西法了。”豪尔的视线越过麦可的肩膀，再次看着几乎连烟都冒不起来的木头。“如果国王和女巫两人都要找我的话，我真的想把城堡搬到千里之外，停在一大块美丽的岩石上面。”
    麦可显然很后悔问了这个问题。苏菲可以推测到他正在想的是，千里之外？那样就要离玛莎好远好远了。“你真搬了的话，你的乐蒂.海特怎么办？”她问豪尔。
    “我想，那件事在那之前应该就会结束了。”豪尔心不在焉地回答：“如果我能想出一个让国王主动放手的方法……有了！”他举起手上的叉子，上面还插着一大块正在溶化的奶油和蛋糕，将叉子指向苏菲。“你，你去国王那里抹黑我。你可以假装是我妈妈，为你蓝眼珠的儿子求情。”他抛给苏菲一个微笑。无疑地，荒地女巫，可能连乐蒂都是被这个微笑所迷惑。那微笑随着伸出的叉子，越过奶油和蛋糕，直直进入苏菲的眼睛，令人眼花缭乱。
    “如果你能威吓住卡西法的话，国王根本就没啥好怕的。”
    苏菲直瞪回去，一言不发。够了，她想，到此为止，姑娘要走人了！虽然对卡西法的契约感到抱歉，但是她在也受不了豪尔这个人了！先是绿色黏液，然后又为了卡西法处于自愿帮她一事，对她怒目相向，现在又加上这么一桩！明天她就要离开，去上福丁把事情一五一十地说给乐蒂知道。
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Chapter 8 In which Sophie leaves the castle in several direct
To Sophie’s relief, Calcifer blazed up bright and cheerful next morning. If she had not had enough of Howl, she would have been almost touched by how glad Howl was to see Calcifer.
“I thought she’d done for you, you old ball of gas,” Howl said, kneeling at the hearth with his sleeves trailing in the ash.
“I was only tired,” Calcifer said. “There was some kind of drag on the castle. I’d never taken it that fast before.”
“Well, don’t let her make you do it again,” said Howl. He stood up, gracefully brushing ash off his gray-and-scarlet suit. “Make a start on that spell today, Michael. And if anyone comes from the King, I’m away on urgent private business until tomorrow. I’m going to see Lettie, but you needn’t tell him that.” He picked up his guitar and opened the door with the knob green-down, onto the wide, cloudy hills.
The scarecrow was there again. When Howl opened the door, it pitched sideways across him with its turnip face in his chest. The guitar uttered an awful twang-oing. Sophie gave a faint squawk of terror and hung onto the chair. One of the scarecrow’s stick arms was scraping stiffly around to get a purchase on the door. From the way Howl’s feet were braced, it was clear he was being shoved quite hard. There was no doubt the thing was determined to get into the castle.
Calcifer’s blue face leaned out of the grate. Michael stood stock still beyond. “There really is a scarecrow!” they both said.
“Oh, is there” Do tell!” Howl panted. He got one foot up against the door frame and heaved. The scarecrow flew lumpishly away backward, to land with a light rustle in the heather some yards off. It sprang up instantly and came hopping towards the castle again. Howl hurriedly laid the guitar on the doorstep and jumped down to meet it. “No you don’t, my friend,” he said with one hand out. “Go back where you came from.” He walked forward slowly, still with his hand out. The scarecrow retreated a little, hopping slowly and warily backward. When Howl stopped, the scarecrow stopped too, with its one leg planted in the heather and its ragged arms tilting this way and that like a person sparring for an opening. The rags fluttering on its arms seemed a mad imitation of Howl’s sleeves.
“So you won’t go?” Howl said. And the turnip head slowly moved from side to side. No. “I’m afraid you’ll have to,” Howl said. “You scare Sophie, and there’s no knowing what she’ll do when she’s scared. Come to think of it, you scare me too.” Howl’s arms moved, heavily, as if he was lifting a large weight, until they were raised high above his head. He shouted out a strange word, which was half hidden in a crack of sudden thunder. And the scarecrow went soaring away. Up and backward it went, rags fluttering, arms wheeling in protest, up and out, and on and on, until it was a soaring speck in the sky, then a vanishing point in the clouds, and then not to be seen at all.
Howl lowered his arms and came back to the doorway, mopping his face on the back of his hand. “I take back my hard words, Sophie,” he said, panting. “That thing was alarming. It may have been dragging the castle back all yesterday. It had some of the strongest magic I’ve met. Whatever was it-all that was left of the last person you cleaned for?”


Sophie gave a weak little cackle of laughter. Her heart was behaving badly again.
Howl realized something was wrong with her. He jumped indoors across his guitar, took hold of her elbow, and sat her in the chair. “Take it easy now!” Something happened between Howl and Calcifer then. Sophie felt it, because e she was being held by Howl, and Calcifer was still leaning out of the grate. Whatever it was, her heart began to behave properly again almost at once. Howl looked at Calcifer, shrugged, and turned away to give Michael a whole lot of instructions about making Sophie keep quiet for the rest of the day. Then he picked up the guitar and left at last.
Sophie lay in the chair and pretended to feel twice as ill as she did, she had to let Howl get out of sight. It was a nuisance he was going to Upper Folding as well, but she would walk so much more slowly that she would arrive around the time he started back. The important thing was not to meet him on the way. She watched Michael slyly while he spread out his spell and scratched his head over it. She waited until he dragged big leather books off the shelves and began making notes in a frantic, depressed sort of way. When he seemed properly absorbed, Sophie muttered several times, “Stuffy in here!”
Michael took no notice. “Terribly stuffy,” Sophie said, getting up and shambling to the door. “Fresh air.” She opened the door and climbed out. Calcifer obligingly stopped the castle dead while she did. Sophie landed in the heather and took a look round to get her bearings. The road over the hills to Upper Folding was a sandy line through the heather just downhill from the castle. Naturally. Calcifer would not make things inconvenient for Howl. Sophie set off toward it. She felt a little sad. She was going to miss Michael and Calcifer.
She was almost at the road when there was shouting behind her. Michael came bounding down the hillside after her, and the tall black castle came bobbling along behind him, shedding anxious puffs of smoke from all four turrets.
“What are you doing?” Michael said when he caught up. From the way he looked at her, Sophie could see he thought the scarecrow had sent her wrong in the head.
“I’m perfectly all right,” Sophie said indignantly. “I’m simply going to see my other sis-ter’s granddaughter. She’s called Lettie too. Now do you understand?”
“Where does she live?” Michael demanded, as if he thought Sophie might not know.
“Upper Folding,” said Sophie.
“But that’s over ten miles away!” Michael said. “I promised Howl I’d make you rest. I can’t let you go. I told him I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.”
Sophie did not look very kindly on this. Howl thought she was useful now because he wanted her to see the King. Of course he did not want her to leave the castle. “Huh!” she said.
“Besides,” said Michael, slowly grasping the situation, “Howl must have gone to Upper Folding too.”
“I’m quite sure he had,” said Sophie.
“Then you’re anxious about this girl, it she’s your great-niece,” Michael said, arriving at the point at last. “I see! But I can’t let you go.”

  
  “I’m going,” said Sophie.
“But if Howl sees you there he’ll be furious,” Michael went on, working things out. “Because I promised him, he’ll be mad with both of us. You ought to rest.” Then, when Sophie was almost ready to hit him, he exclaimed, “Wait! There’s a pair of seven-league boots in the broom cupboard!”
He took Sophie by her skinny old wrist and towed her uphill to the waiting castle. She was forced to give little hops in order not to catch her feet in the heather. “But,” she panted, “seven leagues is twenty-one miles! I’d be halfway to Porthaven in two strides!”
“No, it’s ten and a half miles a step,” said Michael. “That makes Upper Folding almost exactly. If we each take one boot and go together, then I won’t be letting you out of my sight and you won’t be doing anything strenuous, and we’ll get there before Howl does, so he won’t even know we’ve been. That solves all our problems beautifully!”
Michael was so pleased with himself that Sophie did not have the heart to protest. She shrugged and supposed Michael had better find out about the two Lettie’s before they changed looks again. It was more honest this way. But when Michael fetched the boots from the broom cupboard, Sophie began to have doubts. Up to now she had thought they were two leather buckets that had somehow lost their handles and then got a little squashed.
“You’re supposed to put your foot in them, shoe and all,” Michael explained as he carried the two heavy, bucket-shaped things to the door. “These are the prototypes of the boots Howl made for the King’s army. We managed to get the later ones a bit lighter and more boot-shaped.” He and Sophie sat on the doorstep and each put one foot in a boot. “Point yourself toward Upper Folding before you put the boot down,” Michael warned her. He and Sophie stood up on the foot which was in an ordinary shoe and carefully swung themselves round to face Upper Folding. “Now tread,” said Michael.
Zip! The landscape instantly rushed past them so fast it was only a blur, a gray-green blur for the land and a blue-gray blur for the sky. The wind of their going tore at Sophie’s hair and dragged every wrinkly in her face backward until she thought she would arrive with half her face behind each ear.
The rushing stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Everything was calm and sunny. They were knee-deep in buttercups in the middle of Upper Folding village common. A cow nearby stared at them. Beyond it, thatched cottages drowsed under trees. Unfortunately, the bucketlike boot was so heavy that Sophie staggered as she landed.
“Don’t put that foot down!” Michael yelled, too late.
There was another zipping blur and more rushing wind. When it stopped, Sophie found herself right down the Folding Valley, almost into Marsh Folding. “Oh, drat!” she said, and hopped carefully round on her shoe and tried again.
Zip! Blur. And she was back on Upper Folding green again, staggering forward with the weight of the boot. She had a glimpse of Michael diving to catch her-
Zip! Blur. “Oh, bother!” wailed Sophie. She was up in the hills again. The crooked black shape of the castle was drifting peacefully nearby. Calcifer was amusing himself blowing black smoke rings from one turret. Sophie saw that much before her shoe caught in the heather and she stumbled forward again.

  Zip! Zip! This time Sophie visited in rapid succession the Market Square of Market Chipping and the front lawn of a very grand mansion. “Blow!” she cried. “Drat!” One word for each place. And she was off again with her own momentum and another Zip! right down at the end of that valley on a field somewhere. A large red bull raised its ringed nose from the grass and thoughtfully lowered its horns.
“I’m just leaving, my good beast!” Sophie cried, hopping herself round frantically.
Zip! Back to the mansion. Zip! to Market Square. Zip! and there was the castle yet again. She was getting the hang of it. Zip! Here was Upper Folding-but how did you stop? Zip!
“Oh, confound it!” Sophie cried, almost in Marsh Folding again.
This time she hopped round very carefully and trod with great deliberation. Zip! and fortunately the boot landed in a cowpat and she sat down with a thump. Michael sprinted up before Sophie could move and dragged the boot off her foot. “Thank you!” Sophie cried breathlessly. “There seemed no reason why I should ever stop!”
Sophie’s heart pounded a bit as they walked across the common to Mrs. Fairfax’s house, but only in the way heart’s do when you have done a lot rather quickly. She felt very grateful for whatever Howl and Calcifer had done.
“Nice place,” Michael remarked as he hid the boots in Mrs. Fairfax’s hedge.
Sophie agreed. The house was the biggest in the village. It was thatched, with white walls between the black beams, and, and Sophie remembered from visits as a child, you walked up to the porch through a garden crowded with flowers and humming with bees. Over the porch honeysuckle and a white climbing rose were competing as to which could give most work to the bees. It was a perfect, hot summer morning down here in Upper Folding.
Mrs. Fairfax answered the door herself. She was one of those plump, comfortable ladies, with swathes of butter-colored hair coiled round her head, who made you feel good with life just to look at her. Sophie felt just the tiniest bit envious of Lettie. Mrs. Fairfax looked from Sophie to Michael. She had seen Sophie last a year ago as a girl of seventeen, and there was no reason for her to recognize her as an old woman of ninety. “Good morning to you,” she said politely.
Sophie sighed. Michael said, “This is Lettie Hatter’s great-aunt. I brought her to see Lettie.”
“Oh, I thought the face looked familiar!” Mrs. Fairfax exclaimed. “There’s quite a family likeness. Do come in. Lettie’s little bit busy just now, but have some scones and honey while you wait.”
She opened her front door wider. Instantly a large collie dog squeezed past Mrs. Fairfax’s skirts, barged between Sophie and Michael, and ran across the nearest flower bed, snapping off flowers right and left.
“Oh, stop him!” Mrs. Fairfax gasped, flying off in pursuit. “I don’t want him out just now!”
There was a minute or so of helter-skelter chase, in which the dog ran hither and thither, whining in a disturbed way, and Mrs. Fairfax and Sophie ran after the dog, jumping flower beds and getting in one another’s way, and Michael ran after Sophie crying, “Stop! You’ll make yourself ill!” Then the dog set off loping round one corner of the house. Michael realized that the way to stop Sophie was to stop the dog. He made a crosswise dash through the flower beds, plunged round the house after the dog, and seized it by two handfuls of its thick coat just as it reached the orchard at the back.

  Sophie hobbled up to find Michael pulling the dog away backward and making such strange faces at her that she thought at first he was ill. But he jerked his head so often toward the orchard that she realized he was trying to tell her something. She stuck her face round the corner of the house, expecting to see a swarm of bees.
Howl was there with Lettie. They were in a grove of mossy apple trees in full bloom, with a row of beehives in the distance. Lettie sat in a white garden seat. Howl was kneeling on one knee in the grass at her feet, holding one of her hands and looking noble and ardent. Lettie was smiling lovingly at him. But the worst of it, as far as Sophie was concerned, was that Lettie did not look like Martha at all. She was her own extremely beautiful self. She was wearing a dress of the same kind of pinks and white as the crowded apple blossom overhead. Her dark hair trailed in glossy curls over one shoulder and her eyes shone with devotion for Howl.
Sophie brought her head back round the corner and looked with dismay at Michael holding the whining collie dog. “He must have had a speed spell with him,” Michael whispered, equally dismayed.
Mrs. Fairfax caught them up, panting and trying to pin back a loose coil of her buttery hair. “Bad dog!” she said in a fierce whisper to the collie. “I’ll put a spell on you of you do that once more!” The dog blinked and crouched down. Mrs. Fairfax pointed a stern finger. “Into the house! Stay in the house!” The collie shook himself free of Michael’s hands and slunk away round the house again. “Thank you so much,” Mrs. Fairfax said to Michael as they all followed it. “He will keep trying to bite Lettie’s visitor. Inside!” she shouted sternly in the front garden, as the collie seemed to be thinking of going round the house and getting the orchard the other way. The dog gave her a woeful look over its shoulder and crawled dismally indoors through the porch.
“That dog may have the right idea,” Sophie said. “Mrs. Fairfax, do you know who Lettie’s visitor is?”
Mrs. Fairfax chuckled. “The Wizard Pendragon, or Howl, or whatever he calls himself,” she said. “But Lettie and I don’t let on we know. It amused me when he first turned up, calling himself Sylvester Oak, because I could see he’d forgotten me, though I hadn’t forgotten him, even though is hair used to be black in his student days.” Mrs. Fairfax by now had her hands folded on front of her and was standing bolt upright, prepared to talk all day, as Sophie had often seen her do before. “He was my old tutor’s very last pupil, you know, before she retired. When Mr. Fairfax was alive he used to like me to transport us both to Kingsbury to see a show from time to time. I can manage two very nicely if I take it slowly. And I always used to drop in on old Mrs. Pentstemmon while I was there. She likes her old pupils to keep in touch. And one time she introduced this young Howl to us. Oh, she was proud of him. She taught Wizard Suliman too, you know, and she said Howl was twice as good-”
“But don’t you know the reputation Howl has?” Michael interrupted.

  
  Getting into Mrs. Fairfax’s conversation was rather like getting into a skipping rope. You had to choose the exact moment, but once you were in, you were in. Mrs. Fairfax turned herself slightly to face Michael.
“Most of it’s just talk to my mind,” she said. Michael opened his mouth to say that it was not, but he was in the skipping rope then and it went on turning. “And I said to Lettie, ‘Here’s your big chance, my love.’ I knew Howl could teach her twenty times more than I could-for I don’t mind telling you, Lettie’s brains go way beyond mine, and she could end up in the same league as the Witch of the Waste, only in a good way. Lettie’s a good girl and I’m fond of her. If Mrs. Pentstemmon was still teaching, I’d have Lettie go to her tomorrow. But she isn’t. So I said, ‘Lettie, here’s Wizard Howl courting you and you could do worse than to fall in love with him yourself and let him be your teacher. The pair of you will go far.’ I don’t think Lettie was too keen on the idea at first, but she’s been softening lately, and today it seems to be going beautifully.”
Here Mrs. Fairfax paused to beam benevolently at Michael, and Sophie dashed into the skipping rope for her turn. “But someone told me Lettie was fond of someone else,” she said.
“Sorry for him, you mean,” said Mrs. Fairfax. She lowered her voice. “There’s a terrible disability there,” she whispered suggestively, “and it’s asking too much of any girl. I told him so. I’m sorry for him myself-”
Sophie managed a mystified “Oh?”
“-but it’s a fearsomely strong spell. It’s very sad,” Mrs. Fairfax would on. “I had to tell him there’s no way someone of my abilities can break anything that’s put on by the Witch of the Waste. Howl might, but of course he can’t ask Howl, can he?”
Here Michael, who kept looking nervously to the corner of the house in case Howl came round it and discovered them, managed to trample through the skipping rope and stop it by saying, “I think we’d better be going.”
“Are you sure you won’t come in for a taste of my honey?” asked Mrs. Fairfax. “I use it in nearly all my spells, you know.” And she was off again, this time about the magical properties of honey. Michael and Sophie walked purposefully down the path to the gate and Mrs. Fairfax drifted behind them, talking away and sorrowfully straightening plants that the dog had bent as she talked. Sophie meanwhile racked her brain for a way to find out how Mrs. Fairfax knew Lettie was Lettie, without upsetting Michael. Mrs. Fairfax paused to gasp a bit as she heaved a large lupine upright.
Sophie took the plunge. “Mrs. Fairfax, wasn’t it my niece Martha who was supposed to come to you?”
“Naughty girls!” Mrs. Fairfax said, smiling and shaking her head as she emerged from the lupine. “As if I wouldn’t recognize one of my own honey-based spells! But as I said to her at the time, ‘I’m not one to keep anyone against their will and I’d always rather teach someone who wants to learn. Only’ I said to her, ‘I’ll have no pretense here. You stay as your own self or not at all.’ And it’s worked out very happily, as you see. Are you sure you won’t stay and ask her yourself?”
“I think we’d better go,” Sophie said.
“We have to get back,” Michael added, with another nervous look toward the orchard. He collected the seven-league boots from the hedge and set one down outside the gate for Sophie. “And I’m going to hold onto you this time,” he said.
Mrs. Fairfax leaned over her gate while Sophie inserted her foot in the boot. “Seven-leaguers,” she said. “Would you believe, I’ve not seen any of those for years. Very useful things for someone you age, Mrs. Er-I wouldn’t mind a pair myself these days. So it’s you Lettie inherits her witchcraft from, is it? Not that it necessarily runs in families, but as often as not-”
Michael took hold of Sophie’s arm and pulled. Both boots came down and the rest of Mrs. Fairfax’s talk vanished in the Zip! and rush of air. Next moment Michael had to brace his feet in order not to collide with the castle. The door was open. Inside, Calcifer was roaring, “Porthaven door! Someone’s been banging on it ever since you left.”  
  
    第8章飞天七里格靴
    次日早晨，看到卡西法明亮快活地燃烧着时，苏菲真是松了一口气。如果她不是受够了豪尔的话，还真会被豪尔看到看西法时那份神情所感动。
    “老火球，我还以为你被她给整死了！”豪尔跪在壁炉旁，袖子垂在灰烬里。
    “我只是累了，”卡西法说：“好象有股力量在后头拉住城堡似的。我从不曾带着它飞那么快。”
    “好了，下次别让她在指使你做同样的事了。”他站起来，优雅地将灰红色外套上的灰烬拂掉。“麦可，你今天可以开始弄那个咒语了。还有，如果国王那边派人来，就跟他说我有要紧的私人事件要处理，明天才会回来。我要去找乐蒂，不过你犯不着告诉他。”他拿起吉他，将门把往下转到绿色，打开门，外面是宽广、多云的山丘。
    稻草人又出现了。豪尔开门时它正好由侧面跳过来，萝卜脸就撞在豪尔胸前，吉他发出当的一声。苏菲紧抓住椅子，害怕得哇哇叫，声音衰弱无力。稻草人的一只手僵硬地抓扒着，想抓住门，木杆压在豪尔脚上，依豪尔抱着脚的样子看来，那一下还真是踩得不轻。无疑地，那家伙是吃了秤砣铁了心，非要进来不可。
    卡西法的蓝脸拉出了炉架，麦可在后头一动都不敢动。“真的有稻草人耶！”两人异口同声地说。
    “是吗？现在才来说！”豪尔喘着气。举起一只脚，对着门框边踹过去，稻草人整个向后飞出去，跌在后头满是石楠的地上，发出‘沙’的一声轻响。它马上一跃而起，再度对着城堡跳过来。
    豪尔匆忙将吉他放在门口阶梯上，跳下去迎战。“朋友，不成的。”边说边举起一只手来：“回你原来的地方去！”他慢慢向它走过去，手仍伸着。稻草人稍稍往后退，慢慢地、小心地往后跳。脚踩在石楠上，衣袖褴褛的双手不时晃动着，像格斗者在寻找对方的空门似的，双臂上飞扬的破布恰好与豪尔的长袖相辉映。
    “还是不肯走吗？”豪尔问它。稻草人头慢慢地左右摇动，不走！“恐怕你非走不可，”豪尔说：“你把苏菲吓坏了。没人知道她吓坏时会做出什么事来。事实上，你也吓到我了。”
    豪尔的双手开始动，很吃力的样子，仿佛举重一般，直到高高举到头上为止。他大声喊出一个奇怪的字，声音被突然出现的累声掩盖了一半，稻草人就飞了起来，向上，向后飞，破布在风中飞扬，双手转动着在抗议，越飞越高，越飞越远，渐渐成为高空中的一点，然后在云端中渺不可见，之后就再也看不见了。
    豪尔放下手，回到门阶，以手背擦脸，喘着气说：“苏菲，我要收回那些责怪你的话。那家伙乱恐怖的。昨天也许就是它在后面拉着城堡，它拥有我所见过最强的魔法。那到底是什么东西呢？该不会是你以前顾主的屋子，被你清洁后剩下的部分吧？”
    苏菲无力地笑了几声，她的心脏又开始不舒服了。
    豪尔注意到她不对劲，跳过吉他，进入门里，扶住她的手肘，让她在椅子上坐下来。
    “慢慢来，慢慢来。”苏菲感到豪尔和卡西法之间好象发生了点什么。她所以能感觉到，是因为当时豪尔正扶着她，而卡西法仍旧探身在壁炉之外。不论那是什么，她的心脏几乎是马上又开始正常地跳动。豪尔看了卡西法一眼，耸耸肩，然后转身对麦可发出一长串、关于如何让苏菲静养一整天的指令，然后拿起吉他，终于出门去了。
    苏菲在椅子上躺着，假装自己病得起码有两倍严重。她必须趁豪尔不在时做这件事。糟糕的是，他也是要去上福而丁。不过她可以慢慢地走。这样，她可以在他差不多要起程回来的时候抵达。重点是，不能在路上叫他撞着。麦可将咒语摊开来，搔着头在伤脑筋。苏菲在旁偷偷观察他，她一直等到他由书架上取下一本厚厚的皮革书，疯狂、似乎又很苦恼地开始做笔记。看他似乎是非常专注在工作上了，苏菲开始喃喃地说：“这儿好闷。”一连说了几次。
    麦可完全没有反应。“闷得要命。”苏菲边说边起身，往门口蹒跚走去。“新鲜空气！”
    边说边打开门爬出区，卡西法不得不让城堡完全停顿下来。苏菲走下石楠地，四处眺望，以确定自己的位置。越过山丘往上福而丁的路，是一条穿越石楠地的多沙小路，就在城堡下坡不远处。卡西法当然不会让豪尔不方便。苏菲开始对着那条路走去，她觉得有些悲伤，她会想念麦可跟卡西法的。
    就在她快走到路口时，后面传来一阵叫唤声。麦可跟着她一路跳下山坡，高高的黑色城堡则四个角楼喷着烟，焦虑地跟在他深厚一路跳动。
    “你在干吗？”麦可上来后问她。由他的眼光看来，他显然认为苏菲被稻草人吓的脑筋不太正常了。
    “我没事，”苏菲觉得被侮辱了：“我不过是要去看我另一个妹妹的孙女罢了。她的名字也叫做乐蒂.海特。现在你懂了吧？”
    “她住哪儿？”麦可逼问，仿佛认定了苏菲不会知道。
    “上福而丁。”苏菲回答。
    “那可是在十哩之外呢！”麦可说：“我答应豪尔要让你好好休息的，我不能放你走，我跟他说过绝不让你离开我的视线！”
    苏菲可不高兴听到这些。因为需要她去见国王，所以豪尔现在觉得她有用了，当然不要她离开城堡了！“哼！”她嗤之以鼻。
    “而且，”麦可慢慢进入状况了。“豪尔一定也是去上福而丁。”
    “我确信他是的。”苏菲说。
    “那么，你是在为这个可能是你孙外甥女的女孩担心喽？”麦可终于抓到重点。
    “知道了。但我还是不能让你去。”
    “我就是要去。”苏菲坚持着。
    “如果豪尔在那里看到你，他会很生气的。”麦可边说边想。“而且因为我跟他承诺过，所以他也会一并声我的气。你应该休息才对。”
    苏菲越听越生气，几乎想动手揍他了，他突然大叫道：“等等！放扫帚的柜子里有一双七里格靴！”
    他抓住苏菲老瘦的手腕，拉着她上坡，走向等着的城堡。为了不被石楠绊住，她只好一路跳着。“可是，”她气喘吁吁地说：“七个里格是二十一哩！我只消跨两步就到往避难港的半路了。”
    “不对！跨一步是十哩半，”麦可说：“差不多就是到上福而丁的距离。我们一人穿一双，一起上路，这样我就不会让你离开我的视线，你也不会过度劳累，而且我们可以赶在豪尔之前到达，这样他就不知道我们去了哪里。我们所有的问题不就都圆满解决了吗？”
    麦可显然是太得意了，让苏菲不好泼他冷水。她耸耸肩不置可否，心里想到，或许让麦可在两个乐蒂把外貌换回之前让他知道事实比较好，这样比较诚实。但是当麦可由储物柜拿出七里格靴时，她开始犹豫。她一直以为它们是两个掉了提柄，又被挤压得有点变形的皮桶，谁知道……
    “穿的时候是连脚带鞋都放进去的。”麦可边将这两个活像水桶的东西提到门口，边解释：“这是豪尔为国王的军队造的靴子的原型。最后的制成品比较轻，也比较像靴子。”他跟苏菲坐在门阶上，各放一脚到靴子里。“身体先面对上福而丁的方向，在把靴子放下。”麦可警告她。他跟苏菲各用穿普通鞋的那只脚站起来，然后转身面对上福而丁。“现在，跨步！”麦可喊口号。
    滋！身旁的景色一下就飞过去了。因为太快，看来只是一片模糊……灰绿色的是土地，蓝灰色的是天空。
    前进速度带起的风扯着苏菲的头发，并将她脸上的皱纹全部往后拉扯。苏菲想着，到达目的地时，只怕一半的脸都跑到耳后去了。
    但是，开始的同时也就突然结束了。身旁一切是那么祥和，阳光普照。他们已置身上福而丁中间一块草原上头，站在及膝的金凤花之间，旁边一头牛惊奇地凝视着他们，再过去，是懒洋洋坐落在树下的茅屋。不幸的是，因为那桶状的靴子实在太重，苏菲停下来时因此晃动了一下，脚步踉跄。
    “别把脚踩下去！”麦可喊道，但是太迟了！
    旁边马上又是一片模糊和疾风。当一切停下来时，苏菲发现他们跑到福而丁谷，都快到福而丁沼泽区了。“噢，岂有此理！”她咒骂了一声，小心地以单脚跳转身来，再试一次。
    滋！模糊。他们再度回到上福而丁的草原，她却又被靴子的重量拖着前跨步，她眼角瞥见麦可俯身要扶她……
    滋！模糊。“天哪！”苏菲大声叹气，这次他们回到山丘了，形状歪歪的黑色城堡就在近处漂浮着。卡西法看得兴高采烈，由一个角楼里吹出一圈圈的黑烟。苏菲只看到这儿，然后她的靴子在石楠上绊了一下，她向前俯跌……
    滋！滋！这次苏菲以飞快的速度跑到马克奇平镇的方形市场，再跑到一栋豪宅的前院。“什么嘛！”“岂有此理！”每个地方恰好够她喊一句话。然后‘滋’的一声，她又被带往山谷尾端的某个草原。一只硕大的红色公牛由草地上抬起它戴着鼻环的鼻子，然后审慎地低下头，以角对着他们。
    “牛儿乖，我们马上就走！”苏菲大叫，急急跳转身。
    滋！回到豪宅。滋！回到方形时常。滋！又看到城堡啦！她越来越熟稔了。滋！终于又回到上福而丁了。但是——该怎么停下来呢？滋！
    “噢！真个该死！”苏菲大叫。又快跑到福而丁沼泽区了。
    这次她非常小心地跳转身，很谨慎地跨步。滋！这次她踩到一块牛粪，一屁股坐到底墒。麦可一跃而起，在苏菲能移动之前一把将靴子由她脚上扯下来。“谢啦！”苏菲上气不接下气地叫道：“好象没有非要停下来不可的理由。”
    他们走过草原，往菲菲克丝太太叫走去，苏菲的心跳不由得稍稍加快，但只是像一下子做了许多事后那种心跳的感觉，她不禁对豪尔和卡西法稍早为她所做的事充满感激。
    “好地方。”麦可边将靴子藏在菲菲克丝太太家的树篱间边说。
    苏菲同意他的看法。那房子是村里最大的一间，屋顶覆有茅草，黑色的梁木之间是白色的墙。苏菲小时候来玩过，她记得要走到前廊之前会先穿越一个繁花盛放、蜜蜂嗡嗡飞舞的花园。前廊上头爬有一棵忍冬及一棵会攀爬的白色蔷薇，两棵都开满了花，似乎在比赛，看谁能让蜜蜂更忙碌。那是一个完美的、炎热的上福而丁堡的夏日早晨。
    菲菲克丝太太自己前来开门，她是那种看起来很舒服的、胖胖的女人，奶油色的头发盘在头上。光看着她，就让人觉得生命是件美好的事。苏菲觉得有那么一点点嫉妒乐蒂。菲菲克丝太太瞧瞧苏菲又瞧瞧麦可，上次她见到苏菲是一年前的事，当时苏菲十七岁。现在当然不可能要她认出眼前这个九十岁的老妇。“早啊。”她礼貌地打招呼。
    苏菲叹了一口气。麦可说：“这是乐蒂.海特的姨婆。我带她来找乐蒂。”
    “哦，难怪觉得脸看来好熟！”菲菲克丝太太说：“有你们家族的特征。快近来！乐蒂现在正忙着，你们等的时候不妨吃点圆饼和蜂蜜。”
    她将前门开大一些。突然，一只大大的柯利狗由菲菲克丝太太的裙边挤过，穿过苏菲和麦可之间，跑过最近的花床，两侧的花跟着倒霉，折枝断叶。
    “噢，快阻止它！还不能让他出来！”菲菲克丝太太喘着气，在后头拼命追赶。
    接下来几分钟是一团混乱。狗以一种令人不舒服的声音吠叫着，东南西北乱窜。菲菲克丝太太和苏菲追着它跑，时而跳过花圃，时而互相妨碍。麦可则追着苏菲大叫：“快停下来！你会跑出病来的！”然后狗朝着房子的一个转角跑去。麦可意识到要苏菲停下来的唯一方法，就是让那只狗停下来，于是改变策略，快速地横过花圃，绕过房子，对狗扑过去，在它行将跑到屋后的果园之前，扯住它身上的皮毛。
    苏菲蹒跚着赶到时，麦可正在将狗往后拉，同时一直对她做出奇怪的表情。起先，她以为麦可不舒服，但在他多次将头往果园方向甩动后，她终于明白他不过是想要告诉她什么。
    她藏到屋子的转角，只露出头来，心想大概会看到一群蜜蜂。
    但是，她看到豪尔和乐蒂在一起。他们在一个开满了花、树身长着青苔的小苹果林里。
    乐蒂做在一把白色的庭园椅上，豪尔单膝跪在她脚边的草地上，抓着她的一只手，表情既高尚又热切。乐蒂则亲切地对着他微笑。但对苏菲而言，最糟的是，乐蒂看起来一点也不像玛莎，她还是那个美丽非凡的乐蒂。她身上穿的是一件与顶上满簇苹果花类似的粉红及白色的洋装，她光华卷曲的黑发垂落在一边的肩膀，眼里则闪着对豪尔的爱。
    苏菲将头缩回来，不悦的看着手里犹抓着呜呜叫的柯利狗的麦可。“他一定是用了速度咒语！”麦可说，声音里同样透着不悦。
    菲菲克丝太太赶上来了。边喘气边试着将一缕松掉的头发别回去。“坏狗！”她轻声但严厉地跟狗说：“你再给我搞一次的话，我就跟你下咒！”狗眨了眨眼，乖乖坐下。菲菲克丝太太以手指着它，严厉地说：“到屋里去！不准出来！”狗挣脱麦可的手，溜过屋子的转角，大家跟着它后面走。菲菲克丝太太跟麦可说：“多谢你了。他想去咬乐蒂的客人。进去！”她在屋前的花园又严厉地大叫一声，因为狗好象想绕过屋子另一个转角跑到果园去。狗转过头来悲伤地看她一眼，很不快乐地经由前廊爬进屋里。
    “搞不好那狗是对的。”苏菲说：“菲菲克丝太太，你可知道乐蒂的客人是谁？”
    菲菲克丝太太咯咯地笑。“围龙先生，或者豪尔，或是任何他高兴称呼自己的名字。我想到他第一次来的时候就忍不住好笑，他自称是希尔斯德.奥克。他显然不记得我了，我可是没忘记他，虽然他学生时代头发是黑的。”菲菲克丝太太现在双手在胸前互搭，身体站得挺直，苏菲见过好几次这个架势，知道这以为着她准备要说上一天话啦。“他是我的老师退休前收的最后一名弟子。我先生还活着时，常常三五不时要我施法送我们两人去金斯别利看表演，如果我把速度放得很慢时是可以办到的每次去我都会顺道拜访老潘思德曼太太。她喜欢跟旧日的学生保持联系。有一次她介绍这位年轻的豪尔给我们认识。噢，她非常以他为傲。你知道，苏利曼也是她教出来的，但是她说豪尔的能力在他俩之上……”
    “可是，你难道不知道他的名声吗？”麦可插嘴。
    要插进菲菲克丝太太的谈话，有点像是要加入正在转动的跳绳一样，你必须选对时刻，进场的时间对了，才搭得上线。菲菲克丝太太微微转过身来看着麦可。
    “对我而言，那些大多是传言罢了。”她说。麦可张嘴，想说不是的，但是跳绳自顾自地往下跳。“所以我就跟乐蒂说：‘亲爱的，这可是你的大好机会哦！’反正我也不介意告诉你们，豪尔可以教给她的，当在我二十倍以上。乐蒂的聪明远在我之上，将来似乎会达到荒地女巫那种等级的，只不过，她会是‘好’的那种女巫。乐蒂是个好女孩，我很喜欢她。如果潘思德曼太太仍在教学的话，我会马上就送乐蒂过去。但是她已经退休了，所以我跟乐蒂说：‘豪尔巫师来追求你，再也没有比这更好的事了，跟他恋爱，然后让他来教你。你们这一对将很有不凡的成就。’乐蒂刚开始有点排斥，但最近好多了。今天看来则进行得相当顺利的样子。”
    说到这儿，菲菲克丝太太停下来对麦可亲切地微笑。苏菲赶紧抢进来，参与跳绳：“可是，有人跟我说乐蒂喜欢的是别人。”
    “你是同情他吧？”菲菲克丝太太压低了声音：“可是，真的无能为力。”她意有所指地悄声说：“那对任何女孩都太残忍。我就是这么跟他说的，我自己也蛮同情他的……”
    苏菲听得满头雾水：“哦……”
    “……但是那个咒语实在是太强了，真是另人难过。”菲菲克丝太太继续喋喋不休：“我只好告诉他，我的能力无法破除荒地女巫下的任何魔咒。豪尔或许有办法，但是他当然无法跟豪尔开口，对不对？”
    麦可一直紧张地注视着屋子转角处，深怕豪尔走过来，发现他们。这时他逮住空隙，插嘴打断跳绳的韵律：“我想我们该走了。”
    “你真的不要近来尝尝我的蜂蜜吗？”菲菲克丝太太问道。“你们知道吗？我几乎所有的咒语都用到蜂蜜。”
    然后她的话匣子又开了，这次说的是关于蜂蜜的各种神奇特性。麦可和苏菲刻意朝大门方向走去，菲菲克丝太太落在他们之后，嘴里兀自说着，不时怜惜地停下来，将被狗弄弯的植物扶直。苏菲飞快地动脑筋，想在不惊吓到麦可的情况下，问菲菲克丝太太她是怎么发现乐蒂是乐蒂的。菲菲克丝太太将一棵大大的羽扇豆扶直后，停下来喘气。
    苏菲马上跳进来：“菲菲克丝太太，本来不是安排我另一个孙外甥女玛莎过来的吗？”
    “顽皮的孩子们！”菲菲克丝太太微笑着摇头，由羽扇花旁站起来。“我怎会认不出自己以蜂蜜为底调制的咒语呢？不过就像我当时跟她说的：‘不想学的人我绝不会留她！我宁可教有心学习的人。但是，我这儿不允许有任何伪装，所以你要的话，就必须以本来面貌留下来。’结果就像你看到的，一切都很好。你真的不想留下来问她？”
    “我想我们该走了。”苏菲说。
    “我们得回家了。”麦可加上一句，同时又紧张地瞥了果园的方向一眼。他由树篱里取出七里格靴，出了大门后，为苏菲放下一个，说：“这次我要好好抓着你。”
    菲菲克丝太太由大门探出头来，看苏菲把脚放到靴子里。“七里格靴！你相信吗，我不知多久没见到这玩意儿了！对你这种年纪的人是再方便不过了。呃……该怎么称呼你来着？到我这个年龄似乎也可以考虑拥有一双。所以乐蒂的巫术天分是遗传自你吧？虽然不一定会透过遗传，但是通常……”
    麦可拉住苏菲的手臂，两只靴子同时着地，菲菲克丝太太剩下的话语就在‘滋！’的一声及疾风中消失了。接着麦可必须抱住自己的脚，以免和城堡相撞。门开着，卡西法对着他们咆哮：“避难港的门！从你们离开后，有人一直在敲那门。”
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Chapter 9 In which Michael has trouble with a spell
It was the sea captain, come for his wind spell at last, and not at all pleased at having to wait. “If I miss my tide, boy,” he said to Michael, “I shall have a word with the Sorcerer about you. I don’t like lazy boys.”
Michael, in Sophie’s opinion, was far too polite to him, but she was feeling too dejected to interfere. When the captain had gone, Michael went to the bench to frown over his spell again and Sophie sat silently mending her stockings. She had only one pair and her knobby feet had worn huge holes in them. Her gray dress by this time was frayed and dirty. She wondered whether she dared cut the least-stained bits out of Howl’s ruined blue-and-silver suit to make herself a new skirt with. But she did not quite dare.
“Sophie,” Michael said, looking up from his eleventh page of notes, “how many nieces have you?”
Sophie had been afraid Michael would start asking questions. “When you get to my age, my lad, “ she said, “you lose count. They all look so alike. Those two Letties could be twins, to my mind.”
“Oh, no, not really,” Michael said to her surprise. “The niece in Upper Folding isn’t as pretty as my Lettie.” He tore up the eleventh page and made a twelfth. “I’m glad Howl didn’t meet my Lettie,” he said. He began on his thirteenth page and tore that up too. “I wanted to laugh when that Mrs. Fairfax said she knew who Howl was, didn’t you?”
“No,” said Sophie. It had made no difference to Lettie’s feelings. She thought of Lettie’s bright, adoring face under the apple blossom. “I suppose there’s no chance,” she asked hopelessly, “that Howl could be properly in love this time?”
Calcifer snorted green sparks up the chimney.
“I was afraid you’d start thinking like that,” Michael said. “But you’d be deceiving yourself, just like Mrs. Fairfax.”
“How do you know?” said Sophie.
Calcifer and Michael exchanged glances. “Did he forget to spend at least an hour in the bathroom this morning?” Michael asked.
“He was in there two hours,” said Calcifer, “putting spells on his face. Vain fool!”
“There you are, then,” said Michael. “The day Howl forgets to do that will be the day I believe he’s really in love and not before.”
Sophie thought of Howl on one knee in the orchard, posing to look as handsome as possible, and she knew they were right. She thought of going to the bathroom and tipping all Howl’s beauty spells down the toilet. But she did not quite dare. Instead, she hobbled up and fetched the blue-and-silver suit, which she spent the rest of the day cutting little blue triangles out of in order to make a patchwork sort of skirt.
Michael patted her shoulder kindly as he came to throw all seventeen pages of his notes onto Calcifer. “Everyone gets over things in the end, you know,” he said.
By this time it was clear Michael was having trouble with his spell. He gave up notes and scraped some soot off the chimney. Calcifer craned round to watch him in a mystified way. Michael took a withered root from one of the bags hanging on the beams and put it in the soot. Then, after much thought, he turned the doorknob blue-down and vanished for twenty minutes into Porthaven. He came back with a large, whorled seashell and put that with the root and the soot. After that he tore up pages and pages of paper and put those in too. He put the lot on front of the human skull and stood blowing on it, so that soot and bits of paper whirled all over the bench.

  
  “What’s he doing, do you think?” Calcifer asked Sophie.
Michael gave up blowing and started mashing everything, paper and all, with a pestle and mortar, looking at the skull expectantly from time to time. Nothing happened, so he tried different ingredients from bags and jars.
“I feel bad about spying on Howl,” he announced as he pounded a third set of ingredients to death in a bowl. “He may be fickle to females, but he’s been awfully good to me. He took me in when I was just an unwanted orphan sitting on his doorstep in Porthaven.”
“How did that come about?” asked Sophie as she snipped put another blue triangle.
“My mother died and my father got drowned in a storm,” Michael said. “And nobody wants you when that happens. I had to leave our house because I couldn’t pay rent, and I tried to live in the streets but people kept turning me off doorsteps and out of boats until the only place I could think of to go was somewhere everyone was too scared to interfere with. Howl had just started up in a small way as Sorcerer Jenkin then. But everyone said his house had devils in it, so I slept on his doorstep for a couple of nights until Howl opened the door one morning on his way to buy bread and I fell inside. So he said I could wait indoors while he got something to eat. I went in, and there was Calcifer, and I started talking to him because I’d never met a demon before.”
“What did you talk about?” said Sophie, wondering if Calcifer had asked Michael to break his contract too.
“He told me his troubles and dripped on me. Didn’t you?” said Calcifer. “It didn’t seem to occur to him that I might have troubles as well.”
“I don’t think you have. You just grumble a lot,” Michael said. “You were quite nice to me that morning, and I think Howl was impressed. But you know how he is. He didn’t tell me I could stay. But he just didn’t tell me to go. So I started being useful wherever I could, like looking after money so that he didn’t spend it all as soon as he’d got it, and so on.”
The spell gave a sort of a whuff then and exploded mildly. Michael brushed soot off the skull, sighing, and tried new ingredients. Sophie began making a patchwork of blue triangles round her feet on the floor.
“I did make lots of stupid mistakes when I first started,” Michael went on. “Howl was awfully nice about it. I thought I’d got over that now. And I think I do help with money. Howl buys such expensive clothes. He says no one’s going to employ a wizard who looks as if he can’t make money at the trade.”
“That’s just because he likes clothes,” said Calcifer. His orange eyes watched Sophie at work rather meaningly.
“This suit was spoiled,” Sophie said.
“It isn’t just clothes,” Michael said. “Remember last winter when we were down to your last log and Howl went off and bought the skull and that stupid guitar? I was really annoyed with him. He said they looked good.”
“What did you do about logs?” Sophie asked.
“Howl conjured some from someone who owed him money,” Michael said. “At least, he said they did, and I just hoped he was telling the truth. And we ate seaweed. Howl says it’s good for you.”

  “Nice stuff,” murmured Calcifer. “Dry and crackly.”
“I hate it,” said Michael staring abstractedly at his bowl of pounded stuff. “I don’t know-there should be seven ingredients, unless it’s seven processes, but let’s try it in a pentacle anyway.” He put the bowl on the floor and chalked a sort of five-pointed star round it.
The powder exploded with a force that blew Sophie’s triangles into the hearth. Michael swore and hurriedly rubbed out the chalk.
“Sophie,” he said, “I’m stuck in this spell. You don’t think you could possibly help me, do you?”
Just like someone bringing their homework to their granny, Sophie thought, collecting triangles and patiently laying them out again. “Let’s have a look,” she said cautiously. “I don’t know anything about magic, you know.”
Michael eagerly thrust a strange, slightly shiny paper into her hand. It looked unusual, even for a spell. It was printed in bold letters, but they were slightly gray and blurred, and there were gray blurs, like retreating stormclouds, round all the edges. “See what you think,” said Michael.
Sophie read:
“Go and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all the past year’s are,
Or who cleft the Devil’s foot.
Teach me to hear the mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy’s stinging,
And find
What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.
Decide what this is about
Write a second verse yourself”
It puzzled Sophie exceedingly. It was not quite like any of the spells she had snooped at before. She plowed through it twice, not really helped by Michael eagerly explaining as she tried to read. “You know Howl told me that advanced spells have a puzzle in them? Well, I decided at first that every line was meant to be a puzzle. I used soot with sparks in it for the falling star, and a seashell for the mermaids singing. And I thought I might count as a child, so I got a mandrake root down, and I wrote out a list of past years from the almanacs, but I wasn’t sure about that-maybe that’s where I went wrong-and could the thing that stops stinging be dock leaf? I hadn’t thought of that before-anyway, none of it works!”
“I’m not surprised,” said Sophie. “It looks to me like a set of impossible things to do.”
But Michael was not having that. If the things were impossible, he pointed out reasonably, no one would ever be able to do the spell. “And,” he added, “I’m so ashamed of spying on Howl that I want to make up for it by getting this spell right.”
“Very well,” said Sophie. “Let’s start with ‘Decide what this is all about.’ That ought to start things moving, if deciding is part of the spell anyway.”
But Michael was not having that either. “No,” he said. “It’s the sort of spell that reveals itself as you do it. That’s what the last line means. When you write the second half, saying what the spell means, that makes it work. Those kind are very advanced. We have to crack the first bit first.”
Sophie collected her blue triangles into a pile again. “Let’s ask Calcifer,” she suggested. “Calcifer, who-”

  
  But this was yet another thing Michael did not let her do. “No, be quiet. I think Calcifer’s part of the spell. Look at the way it says ‘Tell me’ and ‘Teach me.’ I thought at first it meant teach the skull, but that didn’t work, so it must be Calcifer.”
“You can do it by yourself, if you sit on everything I have to say!” Sophie said. “Anyway, surely Calcifer must know who cleft his own foot!”
Calcifer flared up a little at this. “I haven’t got any feet. I’m a demon, not a devil.” Saying which, he retreated right under his logs, where he could be heard chinking about, muttering, “Lot of nonsense!” all the rest of the time Sophie and Michael were discussing the spell. By this time the puzzle had got a grip on Sophie. She packed away her blue triangles, fetched pen and paper, and started making notes in the same sort of quantities that Michael had. For the rest of the day she and Michael sat staring into the distance, nibbling quills and throwing out suggestions at one another.
An average page of Sophie’s notes read:
Does garlic keep off envy? I could cut a star out of paper and drop it. Could we tell it to Howl? Howl would like mermaids better than Calcifer. Do not think Howl’s mind is honest. Is Calcifer’s? Where are the past years anyway? Does it mean one of those dry roots must bear fruit? Plant it? Next to dock leaf? In a seashell? Cloven hoof, most things but horses. Shoe a horse with a clove of garlic? Wind? Smell? Wind of seven-league boots? Is Howl devil? Cloven toes in seven-league boots? Mermaids in boots?
As Sophie wrote this, Michael asked equally desperately, “Could the
‘wind’ be some sort of pulley? An honest man being hanged? That’s black magic, though.”
“Let’s have supper,” said Sophie.
They ate bread and cheese, still staring into the distance. At last Sophie said, “Michael, for goodness’ sake, let’s give up guessing and try just doing what it says. Where’s the best place to catch a falling star? Out on the hills?”
“Porthaven Marshes are flatter,” Michael said. “Can we? Shooting stars go awfully fast.”
“So can we, in seven-league boots,” Sophie pointed out.
Michael sprang up, full of relief and delight. “I think you’ve got it!” he said, scrambling for the boots. “Let’s go and try.”
They went out into the street in Porthaven. It was a bright, balmy night. As soon as they had reached the end of the street, however, Michael remembered that Sophie had been ill that morning and began worrying about the effect of night air on her health. Sophie told him not to be silly. She stumped gamely along with her stick until they left the lighted windows behind and the night became wide and damp and chilly. The marshes smelled of salt and earth. The sea glittered and softly swished to the rear. Sophie could feel, more than see, the miles and miles of flatness stretching away in front of them. What she could see were bands of low bluish mist and pale glimmers of marshy pools, over and over again, until they built into a pale line where the sky started. The sky was everywhere else, huger still. The Milky Way looked like a band of mist risen from the marshes, and the keen stars twinkled through it.

  Michael and Sophie stood, each with a boot ready on the ground in front of them, waiting for one of the stars to move.
After about an hour Sophie had to pretend she was not shivering, for fear of worrying Michael.
Half an hour later Michael said, “May is not the right time of the year. August or November is best.”
Half an hour after that, he said in a worried way, “What do we do about the mandrake root?”
“Let’s see to this part before we worry about that,” Sophie said, biting her teeth together while she spoke, for fear they would chatter.
Some time later Michael said, “You go home, Sophie. It’s my spell, after all.”
Sophie had her mouth open to say that this was a very good idea, when one of the stars came unstuck from the firmament and darted in a white streak down the sky. “There’s one!” Sophie shrieked instead.
Michael thumped his foot into his boot and was off. Sophie braced herself with her stick and was off a second later. Zip! Squash. Down far out in the marshes with mist and emptiness and dull-glimmering pools in all directions. Sophie stabbed her stick into the ground and just managed to stand still. Michael’s boot was a dark blot standing just beside her. Michael himself was a sploshy sound of madly running feet somewhere ahead.
And there was the falling star. Sophie could see it, a little white descending flame shape a few yards beyond the dark movements that were Michael. The bright shape was coming down slowly now, and it looked as if Michael might catch it.
Sophie dragged her shoe out of the boot. “Come on, stick!” she crowed. “Get me there!” And she set off at top hobble, leaping across tussocks and staggering through pools, with her eyes on that little white light.
By the time she caught up, Michael was stalking the star with soft steps, both arms out to catch it. Sophie could see him outlined against the star’s light. The star was drifting level with Michael’s hands and only a step or so beyond. It was looking back at him nervously. How odd! Sophie thought. It was made of light, it lit up a white ring of grass and reeds and black pools round Michael, and yet it had big, anxious eyes peering backward at Michael, and a small, pointed face.
Sophie’s arrival frightened it. It gave an erratic swoop and cried out in a shrill, crackling voice, “What is it? What do you want?”
Sophie tried to say to Michael, Do stop-it’s terrified! But she had no breath left to speak with.
“I only want to catch you,” Michael explained. “I won’t hurt you.”
“No! No!” the star crackled desperately. “That’s wrong! I’m supposed to die!”
“But I could save you if you’d let me catch you,” Michael told it gently.
“No!” cried the star. “I’d rather die!” It dived away from Michael’s fingers. Michael plunged for it, but it was too quick for him. It swooped for the nearest marsh pool, and the black water leaped into a blaze of whiteness for just an instant. Then there was a small, dying sizzle. When Sophie hobbled over, Michael was standing watching the last light fade out of a little round lump under the dark water.
“That was sad,” Sophie said.
Michael sighed. “Yes. My heart sort of went out to it. Let’s go home. I’m sick of this spell.”
It took them twenty minutes to find the boots. Sophie thought it was a miracle they found them at all.
“You know,” Michael said, as they trudged dejectedly through the dark streets of Porthaven, “I can tell I’ll never be able to do this spell. It’s too advanced for me. I shall have to ask Howl. I hate giving in, but at least I’ll get some sense out of Howl now this Lettie Hatter’s given in to him.”
This did not cheer Sophie up at all.  
  
  
    第9章解不开的咒语
    敲门的是船长，他终于来拿他的风咒语了。他因为久等而非常生气，跟麦可说：“如果你害我错过潮流，我非跟你的魔法师抱怨不可！我不喜欢懒惰的小孩！”
    依苏菲看来，麦可对他实在客气了。但是苏菲因为心情低落，没有过去干预。船长离开后，麦可到工作台去为他的咒语伤脑筋，苏菲则静静坐着修补她的长袜。她就只有这么一双袜子，而她瘦骨嶙峋的脚上面磨出几个大洞，灰衣服也磨损、肮脏了。她问自己，敢不敢将豪尔那套弄坏的蓝银色衣服伤最没有污渍的地方剪下来，给自己缝一条新裙子？结果还是不敢。
    “苏菲，”麦可笔记写到第十一页时，突然抬起头来问她：“你有几个孙甥女？”
    苏菲一直担心麦可会开始问她问题。“孩子，等你到我这个年纪，”她说：“你就会数不清了。她们看来都一个样。如果我记得没错的话，那两个乐蒂好象是双胞胎。”
    “不会吧，”麦可的回答很令她惊讶。“上福尔丁那位才没有我的乐蒂漂亮！”他把第十一页撕掉，开始写第十二页。“当菲菲克丝太太说她知道豪尔是什么样子时，我实在想笑。你呢？”
    “我没有，”苏菲回答。这对乐蒂的感觉毫无帮助。她想到乐蒂在苹果树下那灿烂、充满爱意的神情，便无助蒂问道：“有没有可能豪尔这次时真心的？”
    卡西法对着烟囱猛喷了一口绿色火花。
    “就怕你会这么想！”麦可说：“那样只不过跟菲菲克丝太太一样，自欺欺人罢了。”
    “你怎么那么确定？”苏菲问他。
    卡西法和麦可交换了一眼。麦可问道：“他今早有没有忘记在浴室里少待上一个钟头？”
    “何止！他待了两个钟头。”卡西法说：“还在脸上洒咒语呢！有够虚荣的！”
    “对，就是这样。”麦可说：“等哪一天豪尔忘了做这些事，我才会相信他是真的恋爱了！”
    苏菲想道豪尔单膝跪在果园里，尽其所能要表现出英俊潇洒的样子，她知道他们说的是对的。她很想道浴室里，把那些美容咒语一股脑全扫道马桶里去，但她不敢真这么做。她只是拐着脚将那件蓝银色的衣服拿下来，一整天剩下的时间她都在剪那件衣服——由上面剪下小小的蓝色三角形，以便缝制一条拼布风格的裙子。
    麦可走过来，好心蒂拍拍她的肩膀，然后将手里十七页的笔记全扔给卡西法。“你知道，每个人最后都会没事。”他说。
    这时他们终于看出麦可遇到困难，解不出咒语。他把笔记丢掉，由烟囱上刮下一些煤灰。
    卡西法扭转身，困惑地看着他。麦可由梁上垂挂下来的诸多袋子中的一个，取出一根干枯的根茎，放在刮下来的煤灰里。然后，在一番长思之后，他将门把转道蓝色向下，消失到避难港里，二十分钟后才回来，手里拿着一个由螺纹的大海贝，把它跟煤灰以及根茎放在一起。然后他撕了一堆纸放上去。他把这些都堆到骷髅前，站着对它们吹气，吹得整个工作台上都是飞扬的煤炭和纸屑。
    “你想，他是在干什么？”卡西法问苏菲。
    麦可停止吹气，开始以研钵何杵将所有的东西，包括纸屑捣碎，边捣边充满期待地看着骷髅。但是，什么也没发生！于是，他由袋子和罐子里取来不同的材料尝试。
    “这样去跟踪豪尔，让我很不快乐。”当他试做道第三组实验时，他大声地说：“他对女人虽然不专情，对我却是好的没话说。当我这个没人要的孤儿坐在他避难港的房门口时，是他收留我的。”
    “你怎会由那样的遭遇？”苏菲边剪下另一个三角形边问。
    “我妈妈去世，而我爸爸在暴风雨里淹死了。”麦可说：“当事以至此时，没有人会要你的。我必须离开原来的家，因为我缴不其房租。我试着露宿街头，但是人们一再将我由他们的门口或船上赶走，后来我想到唯一一个人们不敢干预的地方。豪尔那时才出道不久，以‘建肯魔法师’为名号，但是每个人都谣传说他屋里住有恶魔，所以我就去睡在他家门口，这样睡了几夜。一天早上，豪尔开门要出去买面包，我就这样跌进门里。他说他去买吃的东西时，我可以待在他家。我进去，看到卡西法。因为我从不曾见过邪魔，所以就开始跟卡西法说话。
    “你们都谈些什么？”苏菲问。心里想道：卡西法是不是也要求他帮它解除契约？
    “他跟我诉说他的遭遇，还对我掉眼泪。对不对啊？”卡西法说：“他大概想都没想过，我也有我的麻烦的。”
    “我不认为你有，你只是爱抱怨罢了。”麦可说：“那天早上你真的对我很好，连豪尔都蛮感动的。不过你也知道他的个性，他没说我可以留下来，只是没要我走路。所以我就尽量找空帮忙，让自己变得有用。帮他管帐，以免他钱一到手就花光光等。”
    魔咒‘呼’的一声，小小爆了一下。麦可把骷髅上的煤灰掸掉，叹着气，以不同的材料重做实验。苏菲开始将那些蓝色的小三角形拼凑起来，围绕在她脚边的地上。
    “刚开始时我常常犯一些很笨的错误，”麦可继续说：“但是豪尔总是很有耐性。我想我已经过了那个青涩的阶段了，而且我想我在理财方面是帮上了点忙。豪尔老爱买昂贵的衣服，他说没有人愿意雇佣看起来好象无法在这行业赚到钱的巫师。”
    “还不是他自己喜欢漂亮衣服！”卡西法橘色的眼睛意味深长地看着正忙着缝纫的苏菲。
    “这套衣服坏了。”苏菲说。
    “令人生气的不只是衣服而已。”麦可说：“你记不记得那个冬天？我们只剩下一根燃木，豪尔买回来的却是那个骷髅头和那把愚蠢的吉他。我实在气坏了！他说什么来看？说因为它们看起来很棒。”
    “后来燃木的事怎么解决？”苏菲问。
    “豪尔跟一个欠他钱的人拗来的。”麦可说：“至少，他是这么说的。我希望他说的是实话。然后，我们只有海草可吃。豪尔说海草是健康食品。”
    “是好东西，”卡西法喃喃地说：“干干的、脆脆的。”
    “我讨厌海草！”麦可说，心不在焉地看着他磨出来的那碗东西。“我不懂……应该有七样东西的，难道指的其实是七个步骤？还是先用五芒星来试试看好了。”他将碗房在地上，以粉笔在周围画出一个五芒星。粉爆开来，将苏菲的三角形布料吹到壁炉里。麦可咒骂了一声，匆忙擦掉五芒星。
    “苏菲，”他说：“我被这个咒语卡死了。你想，你能不能帮得上忙？”
    好象是拿功课请教老奶奶似的，苏菲想着。她将三角形布料拣回来，再度耐心地将它们在地上摆好后，说：“拿来我看看。”她说得很谨慎：“你知道的，我对咒语一无所知。”
    麦可急急将一张奇怪的、微微发光的纸放进她手里。即使以咒语而言，它看起来也很不寻常。上面写着粗体字，但字带点灰色，而且有点模糊。字的边边像撤退的暴风雨云雾般，包围着一圈灰灰的朦胧。“你有什么想法？”麦可问。
    苏菲将它念了出来：
    抓住落下的星辰，
    由曼佗罗花的花根孕育出小孩，
    告诉我过去的岁月都去了哪里？
    或者，是谁劈裂了魔鬼的脚？
    教我如何听取美人鱼的歌声，
    或是免叫嫉妒刺伤的方法，
    并且找出
    什么样的风，
    可以吹着诚实的心灵向前。
    决定这段话的意涵，
    然后自己写第出第二段。
    苏菲完全被搞糊涂了！这和她以往偷看到的咒语完全不同。她努力地看了两遍，麦可在旁边热切地解释，却一点也帮不上忙。“豪尔曾跟我说过，高阶魔法都附有令人困惑的题目。起先，我以为每一行都有一个难题。我在煤烟里加上火花当做是落下的陨石，还贝当做是美人鱼的歌声。我又想，我也可以算是个孩子，所以就去取了一根曼佗罗花根下来。我还从历书上抄了一堆过去发生的事，但是关于这一点我实在不太确定，也许就是这里出了错？那个避免刺伤的会不会是蹄叶？我刚刚都没想到……总之，没有一件起作用。”
    “我一点也不觉得奇怪，”苏菲说：“在我看来，这像是一连串办不到的事的清单。”
    但是麦可不听。如果这些事都办不到的话，就没人能使用这个咒语了。“何况，”他说：“我对自己偷偷跟踪豪尔的事觉得很惭愧，所以我一定要把这个咒语搞懂，好做为补偿。”
    “好吧，”苏菲说：“那就由‘决定这段话的意涵’开始吧！如果‘决定’是咒语的一部分，这应该能让咒语开始生效。”
    但是麦可不表同意。“不对，”他说：“这种要开始做以后，才会渐渐生出力量来。最后一句说的就是这个，要‘自己写出第二段’时才会开始生效。这种咒语的难度很高，我们必须从前面开始解才行。”
    苏菲将三角形布料再度集成一堆，同时建议道：“我们来问卡西法好了。卡西法，是谁……”
    但是麦可再度阻止她。“不行！别吵它。我想卡西法是咒语迷题的一部分，你看它这里写‘教我’，这里又写‘告诉我’。起先我以为是要教那个骷髅，但是那不生效。所以，一定是指卡西法。”
    “如果我说什么你都要反对的话，你就自己去解。”苏菲说：“卡西法至少会知道是谁劈裂了它的脚吧？”
    卡西法闻言，稍稍挺起身来：“我是没有脚的。而且我是邪魔，不是魔鬼。”说完马上又退回木头里去。苏菲和麦可继续讨论咒语的期间，还可以听到它在那儿‘有够无聊’、‘有够无聊’地劈啪作响。苏菲被这个咒语迷住了，她将蓝色的三角形布料收起来，拿过纸笔，开始像麦可那样大量地做笔记。那天剩下的时间，她和麦可两人就这样盯着远处，咬着笔杆，想到什么就丢一句话给对方。
    以下是苏菲写的一页笔记：
    大蒜能防止嫉妒吗？
    我可以拿纸剪一个星星然后让它掉下去吧？
    告诉的对象可以是豪尔吗？
    豪尔显然会喜欢美人鱼胜过卡西法。
    我不认为豪尔的心灵是诚实的。卡西法的呢？
    过去的岁月到底都到哪儿去了？
    干燥的根必须长出果实吗？
    这表示根必须种下去吗？
    就种在羊蹄叶旁边？
    还是贝壳里？
    分蹄趾，牛羊和魔鬼都是，但马不是。
    还是说，要在马蹄上穿一颗蒜头？
    风？味道？七里格靴带起的风吗？
    豪尔邪恶吗？
    是七里格靴里的分蹄趾，还是穿靴子的美人鱼？
    苏菲绞尽脑汁地想着、写着，麦可同样拼命，还不停地问道：“这风会不会是指一种滑车？一个诚实的人被绞死？不过，那样就变成黑色魔法了。”
    “吃晚饭吧！”苏菲说。
    他们吃着面包和乳酪，眼睛仍旧望着远处。最后苏菲说：“麦可，我看我们别再猜了。先试着照做看看吧！要抓住跌落的星星最好的地点是哪里？山岗上吗？”
    “避难港沼泽区比较平坦，”麦可回道。“但是，真的可以吗？流星的速度非常快。”
    “没问题，我们可以穿七里格靴。”苏菲指出。
    麦可跳起来，神情轻松又愉快。“你说得没错。”他说：“我们去试试看。”
    这次苏菲谨慎地带着拐杖和披肩，因为外面已经很暗了。当麦可将门把往下转到蓝色时，突然发生两件事——工作台上骷髅的牙齿开始嘎嘎作响，而卡西法的热焰直冲上烟囱，叫道：“我不要你们去！”
    麦可安慰它说：“我们一下就回来了。”
    他们来到避难港街上。那是个明亮而温暖的夜晚。但是，他们刚走到街道尽头时，麦可突然想其苏菲那天早上还病着，开始担心夜晚的空气会对她有不好的影响。苏菲告诉他别傻了，勇敢地拄杖而行，直到远离有灯火的窗口，夜变得很宽广、潮湿而且寒冷。沼泽区充塞着盐及泥土味，海洋闪着光，发出柔和的窸窣声，向后退去。苏菲不用眼睛即可感觉到眼前是一片绵延不绝的平地，一路伸展过去。眼睛所能见到的，是低低的、带状的蓝雾以及沼泽水池发出的朦胧微光，一层层地直到天际。期于举目所能见的部分则全都是天空，比平日所见还大。银河看起来像是由沼泽升起的一带雾气，明亮的星光透过雾气照射出来。
    麦可和苏菲站好脚步，面前各放着一只七里格靴，等着天上的星星开始移动。
    半小时后，苏菲必须假装她没有冷得发抖，以免麦可担心。
    又过半小时，他担忧地说：“那个曼佗罗话的根应该怎么解释？”
    “先解决这一个，再来担心下一个。”苏菲咬着牙回答，以免他们开始打颤。
    又过了一会儿，麦可说：“苏菲，你先回去。这毕竟是我的咒语。”
    苏菲正要开口说好，天上的一颗星星突然由天空脱离，拖着白色的光线迅速掉落下来。
    “那儿有一个！”她改口尖叫。
    麦可把脚放到靴里，飞身追去。苏菲握紧拐杖，一秒钟后也跟过去。滋！砰！在深入沼泽，充满雾气与空茫、四处皆是微微发光的水坑的地方，苏菲将拐杖插入地上，得以稳稳地着地站立。
    麦可的靴子就掉在她身边，黑黑的一坨，人则不知在哪儿，暗夜里只听到他的脚步声在前头啪嚓啪嚓，疯狂地跑来跑去。
    而流星就在那儿！苏菲可以看到一个小小的、往下降的、火焰状的东西，就在那个黑色移动物体，麦可的上头。那明亮的形体慢慢地降下来，看来麦可似乎可以抓到它。
    苏菲将鞋子由七里格靴拉出来。“拐杖，来！”她叫道：“带我过去！”她以最快的速度拄杖拐行，跳过草丛，涉过水坑，眼睛一路紧盯着那个小小的白光。
    当她赶上时，麦可正放轻脚步，悄悄地跟在星星后头，伸出两手准备抓它，身体的轮廓被星光映照
    得十分清楚。星星漂浮在与麦可的手平行的地方，就在他手前头一两步之遥，它回头紧张地看着他。真是诡异！苏菲想着。它由光构成，在麦可身边映出一环光圈，照着草丛、芦苇和黑色的水坑。它同时有一双大大的、充满焦虑的眼睛，向后紧张地窥探麦可的动向，还有一个小小的、尖尖的脸。
    苏菲的到达吓了它一大跳，不规则地俯冲了一下，以一种尖锐、劈啪的声音问道：“干嘛？你想干嘛？”
    苏菲想跟麦可说：算了，它吓坏了。但她已经喘得说不出话来。
    “我只想抓住你，”麦可跟它解释：“我不会伤害你的。”
    “不行、不行！”它绝望地劈啪作响：“那是不对的，我应该要死的。”
    “但是如果你让我抓住你的话，我就可以救你一命。”麦可温和地跟它说。
    “不要！”星星大叫：“我宁可死去！”它往下一沉，躲开麦可的手。麦可扑上去，但它的动作快过麦可，迅速向最近的水坑俯冲过去，黑色的水坑霎时泼渐成一股白色的火焰，接着是一阵小小的，逐渐消失的嘶嘶声。当苏菲蹒跚着赶到时，麦可站在水坑边，正看着黑暗水底里一个小小圆块状的物体散发出最后一丝光芒。
    “真令人伤心！”苏菲说。
    麦可叹了口气。“是啊，我真是很可怜它。我们回家吧！我实在受够了这个咒语！”
    他们花了二十分钟才找到靴子，苏菲觉得能找到实在是奇迹。
    “你知道吗？”当他们拖着沉重的脚步，颓丧地穿越避难港黑暗的街道时，麦可说：“我知道我是绝对搞不清楚这个咒语了，它超过我的程度太多，我必须问豪尔。我讨厌屈服，但是既然现在乐蒂已经决定接受豪尔了，他应该会有心情跟我好好解释。”
    这样的说法对苏菲一点帮助也没有。
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Chapter 10 In which Calcifer promises Sophie a hint
Howl must have come back while Sophie and Michael were out. He came out of the bathroom while Sophie was frying breakfast on Calcifer, and sat gracefully in the chair, groomed and glowing and smelling of honeysuckle.
“Dear Sophie,” he said. “Always busy. You were hard at work yesterday, weren’t you, in spite of my advice? Why have you made a jigsaw puzzle of my best suit? Just a friendly inquiry, you know.”
“You jellied it the other day,” said Sophie. “I’m making it over.”
“I can do that,” said Howl. “I thought I showed you. I can also make you a pair of seven-league boots of your own if you give me you size. Something practical in brown calf, perhaps. It’s amazing the way one can take a step ten and half miles long and still always land in a cow pat.”
“It may have been a bull pat,” said Sophie. “I daresay you found mud from the marshes on them too. A person my age needs a lot of exercise.”
“You were even busier than I realized, then,” said Howl. “Because when I happened to tear my eyes from Lettie’s lovely face for an instant yesterday, I could have sworn I saw your long nose poking round the corner of the house.”
“Mrs. Fairfax is a family friend,” said Sophie. “How as I to know you would be there too?”
“You have an instinct, Sophie, that’s how,” said howl. “”Nothing is safe from you. If I were to court a girl who lived on an iceberg in the middle of an ocean, sooner or later-probably sooner-I’d look up to see you swooping overhead on a broomstick. In fact, by now I’d be disappointed in you if I didn’t see you.”
“Are you off to the iceberg today?” Sophie retorted. “From the look on Lettie’s face yesterday, there’s nothing that need keep you there!”
“You wrong me, Sophie,” Howl said. He sounded deeply injured. Sophie looked suspiciously sideways. Beyond the red jewel swinging in Howl’s ear, his profile looked sad and noble. “Long years will pass before I leave Lettie,” he said. “And in fact I’m off to see the King again today. Satisfied, Mrs. Nose?”
Sophie was not sure she believed a word of this, though it was certainly to Kingsbury, with the doorknob red-down, that Howl departed after breakfast, waving Michael aside when Michael tried to consult him about the perplexing spell. Michael, since he had nothing else to do, left too. He said he might as well go to Cesari’s.
Sophie was left alone. She still did not truly believe what Howl had said about Lettie, but she had been wrong about him before, and she had only Michael and Calcifer’s word for Howl’s behavior, after all. She collected up all the little blue triangles of cloth and began guiltily sewing them back into the silver fishing net which was all that was left of the suit. When someone knocked at the door, she started violently, thinking it was the scarecrow again.
“Porthaven door,” Calcifer said, flickering a purple grin at her.
That should be all right, then. Sophie hobbled over and opened it, blue-down. There was a cart horse outside. The young fellow of fifty who was leading it wondered if Mrs. Witch had something which might stop it casting shoes all the time.

  “I’ll see,” said Sophie. She hobbled over to the grate. “What shall I do?” she whispered.
“Yellow powder, fourth jar along on the second shelf,” Calcifer whispered back. “Those spells are mostly belief. Don’t look uncertain when you give it to him.”
So Sophie poured yellow powder into a square of paper as she had seen Michael do, twisted it smartly, and hobbled to the door with it. “There you are, my boy,” she said. “That’ll stick the shoes on harder than any hundred nails. Do you hear me, horse? You won’t need a smith for the next year. That’ll be a penny, thank you.”
It was quite a busy day. Sophie had to put down her sewing and sell, with Calcifer’s help, a spell to unblock drains, another to fetch goats, and something to make good beer. The only one that gave her any trouble was the customer who pounded on the door in Kingsbury. Sophie opened it red-down to find a richly dressed boy not much older than Michael, white-faced and sweating, wringing his hands on the doorstep.
“Madam Sorceress, for pity’s sake!” he said. “I have to fight a duel at dawn tomorrow. Give me something to make sure I win. I’ll pay any sum you ask!”
Sophie looked over her shoulder at Calcifer, and Calcifer made faces back, meaning that there was no such thing ready-made. “That wouldn’t be right at all,” Sophie told the boy severely. “Besides, dueling is wrong.”
“Then just give me something that lets me have a fair chance!” the lad said desperately.
Sophie looked at him. He was very undersized and clearly in a great state of ear. He had that hopeless look a person has who always loses at everything. “I’ll see what I can do,” Sophie said. She hobbled over to the shelves and scanned the jars. The red one labeled CAYENNE looked the most likely. Sophie poured a generous heap of it on a square of paper. She stood the human skull beside it. “Because you must know more about this than I do,” she muttered at it. The young man was leaning anxiously round the door to watch. Sophie took up a knife and made what she hoped would look like mystic passes over the heap of pepper. “You are to make a fair fight,” she mumbled. “A fair fight! Understand?” She screwed the paper up and hobbled to the door with it. “Throw this in the air when the duel starts,” she told the undersized young man, “and it will give you the same chance as the other man. After that, whether you win or not depends on you.”
The undersized young man was so grateful that he tried to give her a gold piece. Sophie refused to take it, so he gave her a two-penny bit instead and went away, whistling happily. “I feel a fraud,” Sophie said as she stowed the money under the hearthstone. “Nut I would like to be there at that fight!”
“So would I!” crackled Calcifer. “When are you going to release me so that I can go and see things like that?”
“When I’ve got even a hint about this contract,” Sophie said.
“You may get one later today,” said Calcifer.
Michael breezed in toward the end of the afternoon. He took an anxious look round to make sure Howl had not come home first and went to the bench, where he got things out to make it look as if he had been busy, singing cheerfully while he did.

  
  “I envy you being able to walk all that way so easily,” Sophie said, sewing a blue triangle to silver braid. “How was Ma-my niece?”
Michael gladly left the workbench and sat on the stool by the hearth to tell her all about his day. Then he asked about Sophie’s. The result was that when Howl shouldered the door open with his arms full of parcels, Michael was not even looking busy. He was rolling around on the stool laughing at the duel spell.
Howl backed into the door to shut it and leaned there in a tragic attitude. “Look at you all!” he said. “Ruin stares me in the face. I slave all day for you all. And not one of you, even Calcifer, can spare time to say hello!”
Michael sprang up guiltily and Calcifer said, “I never do say hello.”
“Is something wrong?” asked Sophie.
“That’s better,” said Howl. “Some of you are pretending to notice me at last. How kind of you to ask, Sophie. Yes, something is wrong. The King has asked me officially to find his brother for him-with a strong hint that destroying the Witch of the Waste would come in handy too-and you all sit there and laugh!”
By now it was clear that Howl was in a mood to produce green slime any second. Sophie hurriedly put her sewing away. “I’ll make some hot buttered toast,” she said.
“Is that all you can do in the face of tragedy?” Howl asked. “Make toast! No, don’t get up. I’ve trudged here laden with stuff for you, so the least you can do is show polite interest. Here.” He tipped a shower of parcels into Sophie’s lap and handed another to Michael.
Mystified, Sophie unwrapped things: several pairs of silk stockings; two parcels of the finests cambric petticoats, with flounces, lace, and satin insets; a pair of elastic-sided boots in dove-gray suede; a lace shawl; and a dress of gray watered silk trimmed with lace that matched the shawl. Sophie took one professional look at each and gasped. The lace alone was worth a fortune. She stroked the silk of the dress, awed.
Michael unwrapped a handsome new velvet suit. “You must have spent every bit that was in the silk purse!” he said ungratefully. “I don’t need this. You’re the one who needs a new suit.”
Howl hooked his boot into what remained of the blue-and-silver suit and held it up ruefully. Sophie had been working hard, but it was still more hole than suit. “How selfless I am,” he said. “But I can’t send you and Sophie to blacken my name to the King in rags. The King would think I didn’t look after my old mother properly. Well, Sophie? Are the boots the right size?”
Sophie looked up from her awed stroking. “Are you being kind,” she said, “or cowardly? Thank you very much and no I won’t.”
“What ingratitude!” Howl exclaimed, spreading out both arms. “Let’s have green slime again! After which I shall be forced to move the castle a thousand miles away and never see my lovely Lettie again!”
Michael looked at Sophie imploringly. Sophie glowered. She saw well enough that the happiness of both her sisters depended on her agreeing to see the King. With green slime in reserve. “You haven’t asked me to do anything yet,” she said. “You’ve just said I’m going to.”

  Howl smiled. “And you are going to, aren’t you?”
“All right. When do you want me to go?” Sophie said.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” said Howl. “Michael can go as your footman. The King’s expecting you.” He sat on the stool and began explaining very clearly and soberly just what Sophie was to say. There was no trace of the green-slime mood, now things were going Howl’s way, Sophie noticed. She wanted to slap him. “I want you to do a very delicate job,” Howl explained, “so that the King will go on giving me work like the transport spells, but not trust me with anything like finding his brother. You must tell him how I’ve angered the Witch of the Waste and explain what a good son I am to you, but I want you to do it in such a way that he’ll understand I’m really quite useless.”
Howl explained in great detail. Sophie clasped her hands round the parcels and tried to take it all in, though she could not help thinking, If I was the King, I wouldn’t understand a word of what the old woman was driving at!
Michael meanwhile was hovering at Howl’s elbow, trying to ask him about the perplexing spell. Howl kept thinking of new, delicate details to tell the King and waving Michael away. “Not now, Michael. And it occurred to me, Sophie, that you might want some practice in order not to find the Palace overwhelming. We don’t want you coming over queer in the middle of the interview. Not yet, Michael. So I arranged for you to pay a call to my old tutor, Mrs. Pentstemmon. She’s a grand old thing. In some ways she’s grander than the King. So you’ll be quite used to that kind of thing by the time you get to the Palace.”
By this time Sophie was wishing she had never agreed. She was heartily relieved when Howl at last turned to Michael.
“Right, Michael. Your turn now. What is it?”
Michael waved the shiny gray paper and explained in an unhappy rush how impossible the spell seemed to do.
Howl seemed faintly astonished to hear this, but he took the paper, saying, “Now where was your problem?” and spread it out. He stared at it. One of his eyebrows shot up.
“I tried it as a puzzle and I tried doing just what it says,” Michael explained. “But Sophie and I couldn’t catch the falling star-”
“Great gods above!” Howl exclaimed. He started to laugh, and bit his lip to stop himself. “But, Michael, this isn’t the spell I left you. Where did you find it?”
“On the bench, in that heap of things Sophie piled round the skull,” said Michael. “It as the only new spell there, so I thought-”
Howl leaped up and sorted among the things on the bench. “Sophie strikes again,” he said. Things skidded right and left as he searched. “I might have known! No, the proper spell’s not here.” He tapped the skull thoughtfully on its brown, shiny dome. “Your doing, friend? I have a notion you come from there. I’m sure the guitar does. Er-Sophie dear-”
“What?” said Sophie.
“Busy old fool, unruly Sophie,” said Howl. “Am I right in thinking that you turned my doorknob black-side-down and stuck your long nose out through it?”

  
  “Just my finger,” Sophie said with dignity.
“But you opened the door,” said Howl, “and the thing Michael thinks is a spell must have got through. Didn’t it occur to either of you that it doesn’t look like spells usually do?”
“Spells often look peculiar,” Michael said. “What is it really?”
Howl gave a snort of laughter. “ ‘Decide what this is about. Write a second verse’! Oh, lord!” he said and ran for the stairs. “I’ll show you,” he called as his feet pounded up them.
“I think we wasted out time rushing around the marshes last night,” Sophie said. Michael nodded gloomily. Sophie could see he was feeling a fool. “It was my fault,” she said. “I opened the door.”
“What was outside?” Michael asked with great interest.
But Howl came charging downstairs just then. “I haven’t got that book after all,” he said. He seemed upset now. “Michael, did I hear you say you went out and tried to catch a shooting star?”
“Yes, but it was scared stiff and fell in a pool and drowned,” Michael said.
“Thank goodness for that!” said Howl.
“It was very sad,” Sophie said.
“Sad, was it?” said Howl, more upset than ever. “It was your idea, was it? It would be! I can just see you hopping about the marshes, encouraging him! Let me tell you, that was the most stupid thing he’s ever done in his life. He’d have been more than sad if he’d chanced to catch the thing! And you-”
Calcifer flickered sleepily up the chimney. “What’s all this fuss about?” he demanded. “You caught one yourself, didn’t you?”
“Yes, and I-!” Howl began, turning his glass-marble glare on Calcifer. But he pulled himself together and turned to Michael instead. “Michael, promise me you’ll never try to catch one again.”
“I promise,” Michael said willingly. “What is that writing, if it’s not a spell?”
Howl looked at the gray paper in his hand. “It’s called ‘Song’-and that’s what it is, I suppose. But it’s not all here and I can’t remember the rest of it.” He stood and thought, as if a new idea had struck him which obviously worried him. “I think the next verse was important,” he said. “I’d better take it back and see-” He went to the door and turned the knob black-down. Then he paused. He looked round at Michael and Sophie, who were naturally enough both staring at the knob. “All right,” he said. “I know Sophie will squirm through if I leave her behind, and that’s not fair to Michael. Come along, both of you, so I’ve got you where I can keep my eye on you.”
He opened the door on the nothingness and walked into it. Michael fell over the stool in his rush to follow. Sophie shed parcels right and left into the hearth as she sprang up too. “Don’t let any sparks get on those!” she said hurriedly to Calcifer.
“If you promise to tell me what’s out there,” Calcifer said. “You’ve had your hint, by the way.”
“Did I?” said Sophie. She was in too much of a hurry to attend.  
  
    第10章一个暗示
    豪尔一定是在苏菲和麦可外出时回来的。苏菲在卡西法身上煮早餐时，他由浴室走了出来，优雅地坐在椅子上，仪容修饰整洁，容光焕发并带有忍冬花的香味。
    “亲爱的苏菲，”他说：“你总是忙着。你昨天好象没有听从我的劝告，工作得很辛苦呢？你为什么将我最好的衣服剪成那个样子？这只是单纯的问问，没别的意思。”
    “你前天让它沾满了黏胶，我不过是在废物利用而已。”苏菲说。
    “我以为我已经显示给你知道了，我可以让它恢复原状的。”豪尔说：“我还能帮你做一双合脚的七里格靴，如果你把脚的尺寸给我的话，也许用咖啡色的小牛皮制成，这样比较使用。实在很难想象，一步路是十哩半，偏偏有人还是会踩到牛粪。”
    “搞不好是公牛屎！”苏菲顶回去：“我敢说你还在上面看到沼泽的泥巴。我这把年纪的人需要许多运动。”
    “那你显然比我知道的还要忙了。”豪尔说：“因为昨天当我把视线由乐蒂美丽的脸庞抽离一刹那时，我敢发誓我看到你的长鼻子由房子的转角伸出来窥探。”
    “菲菲克丝太太是我们家的朋友，”苏菲说：“我怎么知道你刚巧也跑去那里！”
    “苏菲、那是因为你拥有知觉，所以会这样。”豪尔说：“好象没有事情能逃得过你。如果我去追求一个住在海中央浮冰上的女孩，迟早，搞不好很早，我抬头一看，就会看到你骑着扫把在上头俯冲。事实上，如果我没看到你的话，只怕我会很失望啊。”
    “你今天要去浮冰上吗？”苏菲顶道：“由乐蒂昨天脸上的表情看来，那儿好象再没什么值得你留恋的了嘛！”
    “你误会我了，苏菲。”豪尔说。声音听起来非常受伤。苏菲怀疑地把眼睛转开。红色的耳环在豪尔耳上晃呀晃的，但他整个人看来很高尚，带着些许悲伤。“我要很久很久才会跟乐蒂分开。”他说：“事实上，我今天得再度去面见国王。满意了吧？长鼻子太太。”
    （注：长鼻子意指多管闲事、鸡婆之意。）
    他说的话苏菲一句也不相信。不过门柄红色朝下，他确实是要去金斯别利。豪尔用过早餐即离开，麦可想问他那个另人困扰的咒语的事，他却挥手叫他走开。这么一来，麦可也没事干，所以他也出门去了，他说他要去希赛利。
    苏菲被独自一人丢在家里，她仍然无法真正相信豪尔所说的关于乐蒂的事，不过她也不是没有误会过他，而且，她一直都只靠着卡西法和麦可的话来评估豪尔的行为。
    她将所有的小蓝色三角形收集起来，开始怀着罪恶感地，将它们缝回那件剩下部分看起来像一面银色鱼网的衣服上。当有人来敲门时，她吓了一大跳，以为稻草人又回来了。
    “避难港啦。”卡西法告诉她，对她闪过一个紫色的微笑。
    那应该没问题了。苏菲拐着腿走过去，蓝色向下，打开门来。外头停着一匹专用来拖车的马。牵着它的，是一个五十岁左右的年轻人，他问巫婆太太有没有什么方法可以让马不要一年到头掉蹄铁。
    “让我看看，”苏菲说着，回头走到壁炉边，低声问道：“我该怎么做？”
    “黄色粉末，第二个架子的第四个罐子。”卡西法悄声告诉她：“那些咒语的主要成分是‘相信’，所以东西给人时要看起来很有信心。”
    苏菲将粉末倒一些在一片方形纸上，像她看麦可做的那样，漂亮地扭一下，带着它拐回门边。“拿这个去，孩子。”她说：“这会把蹄铁黏得比用一百根铁钉钉得还牢。听到了没，马儿？接下来一整年你都不需要用到铁匠那哩。总共是一分钱，谢谢。”
    那是个非常忙碌的一天。苏菲必须一再放下手头缝制的工作去卖东西，靠着卡西法的帮忙，她卖出一个通水管的咒语、一个抓山羊的，还有制造好啤酒的。唯一令她头疼的，是一个来自金斯别利的客户。苏菲将门把转到红色向下打开，看到一位服装考究、年纪比麦可大不了多少的男孩，脸色苍白、冒着冷汗，拧着双手站在门前。
    “魔法夫人，你可怜可怜我！”他恳求着道：“我明天清晨得跟人决斗，请给我一个保证我会赢的咒语，不管多少钱都没关系。”
    苏菲回头看着卡西法，卡西法对她扮了一下鬼脸，意思是说现成品里没有那样的东西。
    “这样是不对的。”苏菲严厉地说：“而且，决斗是不应该的。”
    “那就给我一个能让我有公平机会的咒语。”那少年绝望地恳求。
    苏菲看着他。他个子很小，很明显地性格怯懦，他脸上有一种‘永远的输家’那种无助的表情。“我尽量试看看。”苏菲说。她拐着脚来到架子前面，审视那些瓶瓶罐罐，一个上标有‘辣椒’的红色罐子看来最合适。她倒了一大堆到方形纸上，然后将骷髅放到它旁边。“我想决斗这种事，你应该比我清楚。”她对着骷髅喃喃自语，口中同时念叨着：“要公平地打斗！知道吗？”她把纸包起来，扭好，蹒跚地走回门边。“决斗一开始，就把这个撒向空中。”她跟小个子年轻人说：“它会带给你和对方相同的机会。在那之后，输赢都要靠你自己了。”
    小个儿年轻人显然非常感激，要塞给她一个金币，但是苏菲拒绝接受，所以他只好给她两辩士，然后高高兴兴地吹着口哨离开。“我觉得自己像个骗子。”苏菲边把钱藏到壁炉石块下边说：“但是我真希望决斗时我能在场。”
    “我也是。”卡西法劈啪地说：“你什么时候才能解放我，让我能出门去看象样的事？”
    “要是能获得跟这个契约有关的一点暗示就好了！”苏菲回道。
    “搞不好你今晚就会得到。”卡西法说。
    近傍晚时麦可飞了进来，进门后他先紧张地四处张望了一下，确定豪尔还没回来。接着走到工作台，将东西拿出来，让台子看起来好象他在那里忙了一天的样子，边弄边愉快地唱着歌。
    “真羡慕你可以轻易地走那么长的路。”苏菲边说边缝一片蓝色三角形到豪尔的银色破衣服上。“我……甥女怎么样？”
    麦可高兴地离开工作台，坐到炉旁的凳子上，开始跟她报告他的一天，然后他反问苏菲如何打发时间。结果，当豪尔以肩膀将门顶开，两手提满大包小包走进来时，麦可不仅没有一点忙碌的样子，反而坐在凳子上，为了那个决斗的咒语笑得前仰后合。
    豪尔往后退，以背部将门关上，背靠着门一副很悲怆的样子。“看看你们！”他说：“应该这样对待我的吗？我整天为你们做牛做马。可是你们，连卡西法也一样，连跟我说声hello的时间都没有。”
    麦可满怀罪恶感地跳起来，卡西法则好整以暇地说：“我从不打招呼的。”
    “有什么不对吗？”苏菲问。
    “这样还差不多，”豪尔说：“总算有人假装看到我了。苏菲，真谢谢你的问候啊！是的，是有事情不对！国王已正式要求我去寻找他的弟弟，甚至强烈暗示说，若能顺便把荒地女巫解决掉会更好。你们却只知道坐在那里笑。”
    说到这里，豪尔显然又随时要制造绿色黏液了。苏菲赶紧将手里缝着的东西摆一边，说：“我来烤一些热腾腾的奶油土司。”
    “那是你面队悲剧时唯一能做的事吗？”豪尔抱怨：“烤土司！不、不用起来。我一路拖着这些要给你的东西回来，所以，至少礼貌性地表示一点兴趣吧。哪！”他把一堆包裹放到苏菲大腿上，另外递了一个给麦可。
    苏菲困惑地将包裹一一解开，里头有几双丝质长袜，两包白麻布衬裙，下摆饰有荷叶边、蕾丝和缎带，一双灰鸽色软皮，侧边有松紧带的靴子，一件蕾丝披肩，还有一件水洗丝制成的灰色洋装，上面蕾丝的颜色与披肩正好相配。苏菲以专业者的眼光一一审视，一次次地惊叹出声，光是那件蕾丝披肩就价值不菲了。她抚抚摩着洋装的丝料，露出敬畏的表情。
    麦可拿到的是一件崭新漂亮的丝绒外套。他满口抱怨，一点也没有感激的样子。“你一定把丝质皮包里的钱全部用光了！我不需要这个。你自己才需要新衣服！”
    豪尔将靴子挂到他那件蓝银色套装的剩余部分上，可怜兮兮地举高来看。苏菲虽然很努力地缝着，上面的洞还是多过布料。“我是多么不自私的人呀！”他说：“我不能让你们穿得破破烂烂地去国王那里摸黑我，国王搞不好会认为我没照顾好我的老母亲。苏菲，怎么样啊？靴子合不合脚？”
    苏菲仍满怀敬畏地在抚摩那件丝质衣服，闻言才抬起头来，问道：“你这是出于好心还是胆小？非常谢谢，但是我不去。”
    “太不知感激了！”豪尔大叫。他将两只手臂张开：“再来场绿色黏液吧！然后我将被迫将城堡移到千里之外，从此再也见不到我可爱的乐蒂！”
    麦可恳求地望着苏菲，苏菲忍不住要呻吟。她清楚地看到，两个妹妹的幸福都系于她去见国王这件事上头，何况背后还有绿色黏液的威胁。“你还没开口拜托我呢！”她说：“你只是说我会去。”
    豪尔微笑着：“你会去的，对不对？”
    “好吧！什么时候？”
    “明天下午。”豪尔说：“麦可可以当你的仆役。国王会等着接见你。”他在凳子上坐下，开始冷静、清晰地解释，告诉苏菲该说些什么。因为事情完全顺他的意，他不再有半点‘绿黏液情绪’，苏菲很想甩他耳光。“我要你做的是很敏感、不易处理的事。”豪尔解释道：“我要国王能够继续雇佣我做类似运输咒那样的工作，但又不够信任到足以把诸如寻找他弟弟之类的工作交托给我。你得告诉他我得罪荒地女巫的原因，同时告诉他我仍是一个好儿子，对你很孝顺，但是说的时候要有技巧，让他觉得我这个人实在没用。”
    豪尔说得很详细。苏菲将手环在包裹上，试着记住他说的一切，但心里忍不住叹气：如果我是国王的话，我会完全听不懂这个老太婆在嘟囔些什么！
    麦可则在豪尔身边徘徊，伺机要问他关于那个令人困惑的咒语的事，但是豪尔一直有新点子涌上来，新的、微妙的、该告诉国王的细节，他一直挥手要麦可走开。“现在不成。还有，苏菲，我想到了，你也许需要来点联系，以免被王宫的气势吓到。我可不希望你跟国王谈话时神情怪异。麦可，现在还不行！所以我安排你去拜访我旧日的老师潘思德曼太太。她是很有威严的老妇人，就某方面而言，她的威仪还要胜过国王。所以，等你见过她，在去王宫时就会觉得习惯了。”
    苏菲真希望她从为答应这件事！当豪尔终于转身跟麦可说话时，她大大地松了一口气。
    “好了，麦可，轮到你了。到底什么事？”
    麦可挥舞着那张闪亮的灰纸，很不悦地迅速解释说，他实在是拿这个咒语没辙。
    豪尔似乎有些意外，接过纸问道：“是哪里有问题？”边说边把纸摊开来。他盯着纸看，一边的眉毛突然挑高。
    “我先当它是迷题来解，后来则逐句照做，”麦可解释道：“但是我和苏菲没法抓住那颗流星……”
    “我的天！”豪尔大叫，然后开始大笑，他必须咬住自己的下唇才能停下来。“可是麦可，这不是我留给你的咒语呀。你这是哪来的？”
    “就在工作台上，苏菲围在骷髅旁那一堆东西里。”麦可说：“那是唯一的新咒语，所以我就想说……”
    豪尔跳起来到工作台上一阵翻找。“苏菲又闯祸了。”东西被他翻得四处都是。“我早该知道了！没有，咒语不在这里。”他拍着骷髅褐色发亮的头顶。“是你干的吗？我有个想法，我觉得你是由那地方来的，我确信那把吉他也是。呃，亲爱的苏菲……”
    “什么事？”
    “没事忙的老笨蛋，无法无天的苏菲，”豪尔说：“告诉我猜的对是不对。你是不是曾将门把转到黑色向下，打开门将你那好管闲事的鼻子伸出去偷看过？”
    “我只把手指伸出去。”苏菲很有尊严地说。
    “但你确实是打开了门，”豪尔说：“那个麦可误以为是咒语的东西，一定就是这样进来的。你们两个难道从没想过，那东西看起来一点都不像平常所见的咒语吗？”
    “咒语常常看起来怪怪的嘛！”麦可说。“那到底是什么东西？”
    豪尔由鼻子里哼笑一声：“决定这段话的意涵，然后自己写出第二段。噢，天哪！”说完他往楼上跑。“我拿给你们看。”边说脚步声边一路往上响。
    “我想我们昨晚在沼泽上跑来跑去全都白费了。”苏菲说。麦可沮丧地点头，苏菲看得出来他觉得自己愚不可及。“都是我的错，”她说：“是我开了那扇门。”
    “那外头是什么？”麦可很感兴趣地问。
    就在此时，豪尔下楼来。“原来那本树不在这里，”他说，看来很生气。“麦可，我刚才听你说你们一起出去，试图捕捉流星？”
    “是的，但是它吓的全身僵硬，掉到水坑里淹死了。”麦可说。
    “谢天谢地！”豪尔说。
    “实在令人难过！”苏菲说。
    “难过！”豪尔益发生气：“一定是你的馊主意，对不对？一定是的！我闭上眼都可以看到你在沼泽区里跳来跳去鼓励他的样子。我告诉你，那是他这辈子所做过最最最愚蠢的事！如果他真的抓到那颗流星，他要难过的事还多着呢！而你……”
    卡西法伸了个懒腰，火光闪动着，直上烟囱。“干吗这么生气？”它说：“你自己不也抓了一个？”
    “没错！而我……”豪尔玻璃珠似的眼睛转向卡西法，但是说没两句就住了口，转而跟麦可说：“麦可，答应我你以后绝对不做这种事。”
    “我答应。”麦可欣然同意：“那张纸上面写的如果不是咒语的话，又是什么东西？”
    豪尔看一下手里灰色的纸：“这叫做‘诗歌’。但这不是全部，可是我想不起后面是什么？”他就站在那儿思考，然后，好象想到了什么，脸上露出担忧的表情。“下一段好象很重要，”他说：“我最好把它送回去，然后……”他走过去将门柄转到黑色向下，转过身看看麦可和苏菲，说：“好吧，我知道我若将苏菲留下来，她也会想尽办法钻过来，那样对麦可就太不公平了。你们两位都一起跟我走吧！这样至少你们会在我视线可及的范围内。”
    他打开门，外面是空无一片，他就这样踏出去。麦可急着加入，慌慌张张地，绊到凳子摔了一跤。苏菲一跃而起，包裹全掉到壁炉里，她匆忙地对卡西法叫道：“别让它们沾上火花！”
    “如果你答应告诉我那边有什么的话。”卡西法回道：“还有，我已经给过你暗示了。”
    “是吗？”苏菲说。但是因为实在赶得很匆忙，并未留意。
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Chapter 11 In which Howl goes to a strange country in search
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.
  “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.
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.
“You’ll get used to it,” said Howl. “Come on, Sophie.”
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.
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.
“Howell!” exclaimed a woman who was sitting there knitting.
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.
“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-”

  “Hatter,” said Sophie.
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?”
“Just dropped in for a moment,” Howl said, lowering Mari to the floor.
“Gareth isn’t in yet,” Megan said in a meaning sort of way.
“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?”
“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-”
“Ah,” said Howl. “What did he do with that writing?”
“I told him to hand it in to this Miss Angorian of his,” Megan said. “Might show her he tried for once.”
“And did he?” Howl asked.
“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.”
“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.
“Neil!” said Howl.
“Don’t interrupt,” one of the boys said. “He’ll lose his life,”
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!”
“Wasn’t me this time. So!” Mari shouted back.
Neil whirled further round and stared accusingly at Howl. “How do, Neil?” Howl said pleasantly.
“Who is he?” the other boy asked.
“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.”

  “There’s a welcome in the valleys!” said Howl. “I’ll put it back when I’ve asked you something and you’ve answered.”
Neil sighed. “Uncle Howell, I’m in the middle of a computer game.”
“A new one?” asked Howl.
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.”
“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-”
“Really?” both boys said eagerly, and Neil added, “Can you make it another of those that nobody else had got?”
“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.
Both boys looked at it. Neil said, “It’s a poem,” in the way most people would say, “It’s a dead rat.”
“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.”
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.”
“Thank you,” said Howl. “Where does she live?”
“That flat over Mrs. Phillips’ tea shop. Cardiff Road,” said Neil. “When will you give me the new tape?”
“When you remember how the rest of the poem goes,” said Howl.
“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.
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…”
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.
“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.”
“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…”

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

  “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.”
“He did,” said Miss Angorian. “You’d better come in and collect it.”
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.
Miss Angorian said considerately to Sophie, “Won’t you sit down?”
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.
“How is it you come to know who I am?” Howl asked beguilingly.
“You seem to have caused a lot of gossip in this town,” Miss Angorian said, busy sorting through papers on the table.
“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.
“That you disappear and turn up rather unpredictably, for one thing,” Miss Angorian said.
“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.
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?”
“Of course,” said Howl.
“Then please tell me,” said Miss Angorian.
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.
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?”
“That’s what I thought,” Miss Angorian said rather accusingly. “I’d like to know what you were doing with such a thing.”
“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.”

  “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.”
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?”
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.”
“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?”
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-”
“Never heard of him,” said Howl.
“My fiancé,” said Miss Angorian. “He disappeared some years back. Now, do you wish me to read this poem to you?”
“Do that,” Howl said, quite unrepentant. “You have such a lovely voice.”
“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:
“If thou beest born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights
Till age snow white hairs on thee.
Thou, when thou returnest, wilt tell me
All strange wonders that befell thee,
And swear
No where
Lives a woman true, and fair.
If thou-”
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?”
“I will not,” said Miss Angorian. “Are you quite well, Mr. Jenkins?”
“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.
“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.
“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.”
“What is brought to Midsummer Day?” asked Sophie.
“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-”
Michael called out, “Do we have to go back into that house?” and Sophie called out, “What will the Witch do?”
“I shudder to think,” Howl said. “You don’t have to go back in, Michael.”
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.
“She caught up, old blueface,” he said.
“I know,” said Calcifer. “I felt it take.”  

    第11章前往奇异国度
    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。
    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。
    “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。
    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。
    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。”
    “你就会习惯的。”豪尔说：“走啦，苏菲。”
    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。
    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。
    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。
    “豪尔！”一个坐在那儿织东西的女人大叫。
    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。
    “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。
    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……”
    “海特。”苏菲说。
    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？”
    “只一下下就走。”豪尔边回答边将玛莉放下来。
    “格里斯还没回来。”梅根意有所指地说。
    “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？”
    “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……”
    “啊，”豪尔问：“那张纸他后来怎么处理？”
    “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。”
    “他有交上去吗？”
    “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。”
    “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。
    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。
    “尼尔！”豪尔叫道。
    “别吵！”其中一个男孩喊道：“不然他会死掉。”
    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！”
    “哼！这次才不是我哩！”玛莉叫回去。
    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！”
    “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。”
    尼尔叹气道：“豪尔舅舅，我正在玩电玩。”
    “新的游戏？”豪尔问。
    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。”
    “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……”
    “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？”
    “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。
    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。
    “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。”
    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。”
    “谢谢。”豪尔说。“她住在哪里？”
    “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？”
    “当你想起那首诗的下半段时。”豪尔说。
    “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。
    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……”
    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。
    “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！”
    “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……”
    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。
    “……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。
    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。”
    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？”
    “唯一一套钥匙在你那里吧！”梅根严厉地回道。
    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。”
    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。
    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。
    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。
    “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。
    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。
    “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？”
    “是的，”安歌丽雅小姐说：“要不要进来拿？”
    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。
    安歌丽雅小姐体贴地问苏菲：“要不要坐下来？”
    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。
    “你怎会知道我是谁？”豪尔摆出诱人的姿态问。
    “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。
    “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。
    “譬如你常无故失踪，然后又突然出现。”安歌丽雅小姐回答。
    “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。
    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？”
    “当然了。”豪尔回答。
    “那么，请告诉我。”安歌丽雅小姐说。
    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。”
    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？”
    “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？”
    “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。”
    “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。”
    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？”
    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。”
    “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。
    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？”
    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……”
    “我没听过这个人。”豪尔说。
    “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？”
    “好的，”豪尔显然毫无悔意。“你拥有非常美丽的声音。”
    “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。
    如果你注定要见到奇怪的景象，
    一些人家看不见的景象，
    那就去吧，离家一万个日子，
    直到年龄令你的头发如白雪。
    然后，当你回家时，
    跟我发誓，
    在他处
    绝没有
    美丽的女子忠诚地等你回去。
    如果你……
    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？”
    “不会，”安歌丽雅小姐问道：“你还好吗？建肯先生。”
    “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。
    “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。
    “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。”
    “仲夏时节会发生什么事？”
    “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……”
    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？”
    “我想都不敢想。”豪尔回答。“麦可，你不需要进来没关系。”
    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。
    “她追上来啦，老蓝脸！”
    “我知道，”卡西法说：“我感觉到了。”
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Chapter 12 In which Sophie becomes Howl’s old mother
Sophie did not see much point in blackening Howl’s name to the King, now that the Witch had caught up with him. But Howl said it was more important than ever. “I shall need everything I’ve got just to escape the Witch,” he said. “I can’t have the King after me as well.”
So the following afternoon Sophie put on her new clothes and sat feeling very fine, if rather stiff, waiting for Michael to get ready and for Howl to finish in the bathroom. While she waited, she told Calcifer about the strange country where Howl’s family lived. It took her mind off the King.
Calcifer was very interested. “I knew he came from foreign parts,” he said. “But this sounds like another world. Clever of the Witch to send the curse in from there. Very clever all round. That’s magic I admire, using something that exists anyway and turning it round into a curse. I did wonder about it when you and Michael were reading it the other day. That fool Howl told her too much about himself.”
Sophie gazed at Calcifer’s thin blue face. It did not surprise her to find Calcifer admired the curse, any more than it surprised her when he called Howl a fool. He was always insulting Howl. But she never could work out if Calcifer really hated Howl. Calcifer looked so evil anyway that it was hard to tell.
Calcifer moved his orange eyes to look into Sophie’s. “I’m scared too,” he said. “I shall suffer with Howl if the Witch catches him. If you don’t break the contract before she does, I won’t be able to help you at all.”
Before Sophie could ask more, Howl came dashing out of the bathroom looking his very finest, scenting the room with roses and yelling for Michael. Michael clattered downstairs in his new blue velvet. Sophie stood up and collected her trusty stick. It was time to go.
“You look wonderfully rich and stately!” Michael said to her.
“She does me credit,” said Howl. “apart from that awful old stick.”
“Some people,” said Sophie, “are thoroughly self-centered. This stick goes with me. I need it for moral support.”
Howl looked at the ceiling, but he did not argue.
They took their stately way into the streets of Kingsbury. Sophie of course looked back to see what the castle was like here. She saw a big, arched gateway surrounding a small black door. The rest of the castle seemed to be a clank stretch of plastered wall between two carved stone houses.
“Before you ask,” said Howl, “it’s really just a disused stable. This way.”
They walked through the streets, looking at least as fine as any of the passerbys. Not that many people were about. Kingsbury was a long way south and it was a bakingly hot day there. The pavements shimmered. Sophie discovered another disadvantage to being old: you felt queer in hot weather. The elaborate buildings wavered in front of her eyes. She was annoyed, because she wanted to look at the place, but all she had was a dim impression of golden domes and tall houses.
“By the way,” Howl said, “Mrs. Pentstemmon will call you Mrs. Pendragon. Pendragon’s the name I go under here.”

  “Whatever for?” said Sophie.
“For disguise,” said Howl. “Pendragon’s a lovely name, much better than Jenkins.”
“I get by quite well with a plain name,” Sophie said as they turned into a blessedly narrow, cool street.
“We can’t all be Mad Hatters,” said Howl.
Mrs. Pentstemmon’s house was gracious and tall, near the end of the narrow street. It had orange trees in tubs on either side of its handsome front door. This door was opened by an elderly footman in black velvet, who led them into a wonderfully cool black-and-white checkered marble hall, where Michael tried secretly to wipe sweat off his face. Howl, who always seemed to be cool, treated the footman as an old friend and made jokes to him.
The footman passed them on to a page boy in red velvet. Sophie, as the boy led them ceremoniously up polished stairs, began to see why this made good practice for meeting the King. She felt as if she were in a palace already. When the boy ushered them into a shaded drawing room, she was sure even a palace could not be this elegant. Everything in the room was blue and gold and white, and small and fine. Mrs. Pentstemmon was finest of all. She was tall and thin, and she sat bolt upright in a blue-and-gold embroidered chair, supporting herself rigidly with one hand, in a gold-mesh mitten, on a gold-topped cane. She wore old-gold silk, in a very stiff and old-fashioned style, finished off with an old-gold headdress not unlike a crown, which tied in a large old-gold bow beneath her gaunt eagle face. She was the finest and most frightening lady Sophie had ever seen.
“Ah, my dear Howell,” she said, holding out a gold-mesh mitten.
Howl bent and kissed the mitten, as he was obviously supposed to. He did it very gracefully, but it was rather spoiled from the back view by Howl flapping his other hand furiously at Michael behind his back. Michael, a little too slowly, realized he was supposed to stand by the door beside the page boy. He backed there in a hurry, only too pleased to get as far away from Mrs. Pentstemmon as he could.
“Mrs. Pentstemmon, allow me to present my old mother,” Howl said, waving his hand at Sophie. Since Sophie felt just like Michael, Howl had to flap his hand at her too.
“Charmed. Delighted,” said Mrs. Pentstemmon, and she held her gold mitten out to Sophie. Sophie was not sure if Mrs. Pentstemmon meant her to kiss the mitten as well, but she could not bring herself to try. She laid her own hand on the mitten instead. The hand under it felt like an old, cold claw. After feeling it, Sophie was quite surprised that Mrs. Pentstemmon was alive. “Forgive my not standing up, Mrs. Pendragon,” Mrs. Pentstemmon said. “My health is not so good. It forced me to retire from teaching three years ago. Pray sit down, both of you.”
Trying not to shake with nerves, Sophie sat grandly in the embroidered chair opposite Mrs. Pentstemmon’s, supporting herself on her stick in what she hoped was the same elegant way. Howl spread himself gracefully in a chair next to it. He looked quite at home, and Sophie envied him.

  “I am eighty-six,” Mrs. Pentstemmon announced. “How old are you, my dear Mrs. Pendragon?
“Ninety,” Sophie said, that being the first high number that came into her head.
“So old?” Mrs. Pentstemmon said with what may have been slight, stately envy. “How lucky you are to move so nimbly still.”
“Oh, yes, she’s so wonderfully nimble,” Howl agreed, “that sometimes there’s no stopping her.”
Mrs. Pentstemmon gave him a look which told Sophie she had been a teacher at least as fierce as Miss Angorian. “I am talking to your mother,” she said. “I daresay she is as proud of you as I am. We are two old ladies who both had a hand in forming you. You are, one might say, our joint creation.”
“Don’t you think I did any of me myself, then?” Howl asked. ‘Put in just a few touches of my own?”
“A few, and those not altogether to my liking,” Mrs. Pentstemmon replied. “But you will not wish to sit here and hear yourself being discussed. You will go down and sit on the terrace, taking your page boy with you, where Hunch will bring you both a cool drink. Go along.”
If Sophie had not been so nervous herself, she might have laughed at the expression on Howl’s face. She had obviously not expected this to happen at all. But he got up, with only a light shrug, made a slight warning face at Sophie, and shooed Michael out of the room ahead of him. Mrs. Pentstemmon turned her rigid body very slightly to watch them go. Then she nodded at the page boy, who scuttled out of the room too. After that, Mrs. Pentstemmon turned herself back toward Sophie, and Sophie felt more nervous than ever.
“I prefer him with black hair,” Mrs. Pentstemmon announced. “That boy is going to the bad.”
“Who? Michael?” Sophie said, bewildered.
“Not the servitor,” said Mrs. Pentstemmon. “I do not think he is clever enough to cause me concern. I am talking about Howell, Mrs. Pendragon.”
“Oh,” said Sophie, wondering why Mrs. Pentstemmon only said “going.” Howl had surely arrived at the bad long ago.
“Take his whole appearance,” Mrs. Pentstemmon said sweepingly. ‘Look at his clothes.”
“He is always very careful about his appearance,” Sophie agreed, wondering why she was putting it so mildly.
“And always was. I am careful about my appearance too, and I see not harm in that,” said Mrs. Pentstemmon. “But what call has he to be walking around in a charmed suit? It is a dazzling attraction charm, directed at ladies-very well done, I admit, and barely detectable even to my trained eyes, since it appears to have been darned into the seams-and one which will render him almost irresistible to ladies. This represents a downward trend into black arts which must surely cause you some motherly concern, Mrs. Pendragon.”
Sophie thought uneasily about the gray-and-scarlet suit. She had darned the seams without noticing it had anything particular about it. But Mrs. Pentstemmon was an expert on magic, and Sophie was only an expert on clothes.
Mrs. Pentstemmon put both gold mittens on top of her stick and canted her stiff body so that both her trained and piercing eyes stared into Sophie’s. Sophie felt more and more nervous and uneasy. “My life is nearly over,” Mrs. Pentstemmon announced. “I have felt death tiptoeing close for some time now.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that isn’t so,” Sophie said, trying to sound soothing. It was hard to sound like anything with Mrs. Pentstemmon staring at her like that.
“I assure you it is so,” said Mrs. Pentstemmon. “This is why I was anxious to see you, Mrs. Pendragon. Howell, you see, was my last pupil and by far my best. I was about to retire when he came to me out of a foreign land. I thought my work was done when I trained Benjamin Sullivan-whom you probably know better as Wizard Suliman, rest his soul! -and procured him the post of Royal Magician. Oddly enough, he came from the same country as Howell. Then Howell came, and I saw at a glance that he had twice the imagination and twice the capabilities, and, though I admit he had some faults of character, I knew he was a force for good. Good, Mrs. Pendragon. But what is he now?”
“What indeed?” Sophie said.
“Something has happened to him,” Mrs. Pentstemmon said, still staring piercingly at Sophie. “And I am determined to put that right before I die.”
“What do you think has happened?” Sophie asked uncomfortably.
“I must rely on you to tell me that,” said Mrs. Pentstemmon. “My feeling is that he has gone the same way as the Witch of the Waste. They tell me she was not wicked once-though I have this only on hearsay, since she is older that either of us and keeps herself young by her arts. Howell has gifts in the same order as hers. It seems as if those of high ability cannot resist some extra, dangerous stroke of cleverness, which results in a fatal flaw and begins a slow decline to evil. Do you, by any chance, have a clue what it might be?”
Calcifer’s voice came into Sophie’s mind, saying, “The contract isn’t doing either of us any good in the long run.” She felt a little chilly, in spite of the heat of the day blowing through the open windows of the shaded, elegant room. “Yes,” she said. “He’s made some sort of contract with his fire demon.”
Mrs. Pentstemmon’s hands shook a little on her stick. “That will be it. You must break that contract, Mrs. Pendragon.”
“I would if I knew how,” Sophie said.
“Surely your own maternal feelings and your own strong magic gift will tell you how,” Mrs. Pentstemmon said. “I have been looking at you, Mrs. Pendragon, though you may not have noticed-”
“Oh, I noticed, Mrs. Pentstemmon,” Sophie said.
“-and I like your gift,” said Mrs. Pentstemmon. ‘It brings life to things, such as that stick in your hand, which you have evidently talked to, to the extent that it has become what the layman would call a magic wand. I think you would not find it too hard to break that a contract.”
“Yes, but I need to know what the terms of it are,” Sophie said. “Did Howl tell you I was a witch, because if he did-”
“He did not. There is no need to be coy. You can rely on my experience to know these things,” said Mrs. Pentstemmon. Then, to Sophie’s relief, she shut her eyes. It was like a strong light being turned off. “I do not now, nor do I wish to know about such contracts,” she said. Her cane wobbled again, as if she might be shuddering. Her mouth quirked into a line, suggesting she had unexpectedly bitten on a peppercorn. “But I now see,” she said, “what has happened to the Witch. She made a contract with a fire demon and, over the years, that demon has taken control of her. Demons do not understand good and evil. But they can be bribed into a contract, provided the human offers them something valuable, something only humans have. This prolongs the life of both human and demon, and the human gets the demon’s magic power to add to his or her own.” Mrs. Pentstemmon opened her eyes again. “That is all I can bear to say on the subject,” she said, “except to advise you to find out what that demon got. Now I must bid you farewell. I have to rest awhile.”

  And like magic, which it probably was, the door opened and the page boy came in to usher Sophie out of the room. Sophie was extremely glad to go. She was all but squirming with embarrassment by then. She looked back at Mrs. Pentstemmon’s rigid, upright form as the door closed and wondered if Mrs. Pentstemmon would have made her feel this bad if she had really and truly been Howl’s old mother. Sophie rather thought she would. “I take my hat off to Howl for standing her as a teacher for more than a day!” she murmured to herself.
“Madam?” asked the page boy, thinking Sophie was talking to him.
“I said go slowly down the stairs or I can’t keep up,” Sophie told him. Her knees were wobbling. “You young boys dash about so,” she said.
The page boy took her slowly and considerately down the shiny stairs. Halfway down, Sophie recovered enough from Mrs. Pentstemmon’s personality to think of some of the things Mrs. Pentstemmon had actually said. She had said Sophie was a witch. Oddly enough, Sophie accepted this without any trouble at all. That explained the popularity of certain hats, she thought. It explained Jane Farrier’s Count Whatsit. It possibly explained the jealously of the Witch of the Waste. It was as if Sophie had always known this. But she had thought it was not proper to have a magic gift because she was the eldest of three. Lettie had been far more sensible about such things.
Then she thought of the gray-and-scarlet suit and nearly fell downstairs with dismay. She was the one who had put the charm on that. She could hear herself now, murmuring to it. “Built to pull in the girls!” she had told it. And of course it did. It had charmed Lettie that day in the orchard. Yesterday, somewhat disguised, it must have had its effect on Miss Angorian too.
Oh, dear! Sophie thought. I’ve gone and doubled the number of hearts he’ll have broken! I must get that suit off him somehow!
Howl, in that same suit, was waiting in the cool black-and-white hall with Michael. Michael nudged Howl in a worried way as Sophie came slowly down the stairs behind the page boy. Howl looked saddened. “You seem a bit ragged,” he said. “I think we’d better skip seeing the King. I’ll go blacken my own name when I make your excuses. I can say my wicked ways have made you ill. That could be true, from the look of you.”
Sophie certainly did not wish to see the King. But she thought of what Calcifer had said. If the King commanded Howl to go into the Waste and the Witch caught him, Sophie’s own chance of being young again would have gone too.
She shook her head. “After Mrs. Pentstemmon,” she said, “the King of Ingary will seem just like an ordinary person.”  

    第12章会见潘思德曼太太
    既然荒地女巫已经追上来了，苏菲觉得现在应该没什么必要去国王那里破坏豪尔的名声了，但是豪尔说，现在更需要如此做。“我得用尽所有的方法来躲开女巫，”他说：“我不要国王这时来插一脚。”
    所以，次日下午苏菲就穿上新衣，坐着等麦可穿好衣服和豪尔由浴室化妆出来。她觉得心情还好，就是整个人有点僵僵的。在等那两个男生的时候，她跟卡西法描述豪尔家人居住的那个奇异的国家，这样她就不会尽想着国王的事。
    卡西法深感兴趣。“我就知道他来自外国，”它说：“但这听起来好象是另一个世界似的。这女巫好厉害！居然把诅咒由那里送过来，真是有够厉害！我最钦佩这一类咒语了……利用本就存在的东西，将它变成咒语，你跟麦可那天在念的时候我就有点想到了，那个笨蛋豪尔跟她说了太多自己的事了。”
    苏菲凝视着卡西法瘦削的蓝脸。卡西法会钦佩这个咒语并不令她感到惊讶，它称豪尔为笨蛋也不令她惊奇。它长在言词上侮辱豪尔，但是她一直都不确定它是否真的憎恨豪尔，因为卡西法看起来很邪恶，所以很难看得出它真正的想法。
    卡西法转动它橘色的眼睛看着苏菲，说：“我也很害怕！如果女巫追上豪尔，我会跟豪尔一块遭殃。如果你不能赶在那之前将契约打破，我就无法帮助你了。”
    苏菲还来不及接口，豪尔就由浴室冲了出来，打扮得非常光鲜，房里充满传自他身上的玫瑰香水味。他大声叫唤麦可，麦可噼里啪啦地从楼上冲下来，苏菲拿起她忠实的拐杖，该准备出发了。
    “你看来既富有又庄严。”麦可跟她说。
    “她很上得了台面，”豪尔说：“那根难看的老拐杖是例外。”
    “有些人哪。”苏菲说：“是彻头彻尾的自我中心！这根拐杖跟我最配。我需要它给我精神支持。”
    豪尔两眼看着天花板，没有和她争论。
    他们就这样，很气派地走上金斯别利的街道，苏菲回头看看城堡的外观在这里变成什么样子。她看到的是一个很大的拱形出入口围绕在一个小小的黑门，城堡其它部分则是两栋由雕刻的石头砌成的房子，中间用纯白的石膏墙连接起来。
    “不用问了，”豪尔说：“不过是一间废弃不用的马厩罢了。走这边。”
    他们走过街道，穿着打扮看起来至少不会输给街上任何一位行人，街上行人其实不多。
    金斯别利的位置很南方，那天又非常炎热，像火炉一般，街道都冒出热气。苏菲发现年老还有一个坏处，在热天里特别觉得不对劲。那些精巧的建筑在她眼前晃呀晃的，她很懊恼！以为她很想好好看看这个城市，但是她只模糊地记得有金色的圆顶和建筑高大的房子。
    “对了，”豪尔说：“潘思德曼太太会称呼你為围龙太太。围龙是我在这儿使用的名字。”
    “为什么？”苏菲问。
    “伪装呀，”豪尔说：“而且，围龙是一个好名字，比建肯好多了。”
    “我比较习惯简单的名字。”苏菲边说，边随着转入一条狭窄而阴凉的街道。
    “总不能每个人都叫疯海特（注：源自《爱丽丝梦游仙境》中的疯狂帽商）吧！”豪尔说。
    潘思德曼太太的房子高大而优美，就在靠近街道尽头处，美丽的前门两旁摆设着种在盆里的橘树。来开门的是一位身穿黑色丝绒制服的年老仆役，他领他们进入一间很凉爽的黑白两色棋盘式的大理石铺就的大厅。麦可悄悄拭去脸上的汗水，一向厚颜无礼的豪尔像对待老朋友一般，和那位仆人寒暄、开玩笑。
    这位仆人将他们转叫给一位穿红色丝绒制服的侍童。当这位侍童慎重其事地领着他们走上光可鉴人的楼梯时，苏菲开始了解为什么豪尔会说在觐见国王之前，这里会是一个很好的预习场所了。她觉得自己简直已经是在王宫里了。那男童领他们进入一间会客室，苏菲觉得就是王宫也不可能比这个房间还优雅。房里所有的东西都是蓝色、金色和白色，小巧而且精致，但这些都比不上潘思德曼太太本人。
    她高高瘦瘦，身体挺得比值地坐在一张有金色刺绣的椅子上，一手僵硬地执杖支撑自己。手上戴着金色网状手套，拐杖头则由黄金打造而成。她身穿一袭暗金黄色丝质衣裳，样式僵硬而古板。头上戴一顶类似王冠的暗金头饰，以暗金色的带子在下巴上绑了一个大结，她的脸瘦削如老鹰。她是苏菲所见过最华美、也最令人敬畏的人。
    “啊，我亲爱的豪尔。”她说着，伸出一只戴有金网手套的手。
    豪尔弯腰亲吻手套，那显然是必须遵守的礼仪。他做得很优雅，但是若由背后看来，可就大穿帮了——他另一只手放在背后，拼命对麦可挥着。麦可终于明白他应该去门边和那个侍童站在一起才对。他迅速地倒退而行，心里很高兴能远离潘思德曼太太。
    “潘思德曼太太，请容我介绍我的老母亲给您认识。”豪尔边说边在背后对苏菲挥手，因为苏菲跟麦可一样，他只好也来上这么一招。
    “太好了，很高兴。”潘思德曼太太说着，对苏菲伸出她戴有金网手套的手。苏菲不确定潘思德曼太太的意思是不是要她亲吻手套，但她提不起勇气尝试，只是把手放在手套上，手套下的手感觉像是只苍老、冰冷的爪子。在接触过她的手后，苏菲很惊讶潘思德曼太太居然还活着。
    “请原谅我没有站起来，围龙太太。”潘思德曼太太说：“我健康状况不佳，三年前也因此被迫由教书工作上退休下来。两位都请坐。”
    苏菲克制着不要发抖，在潘思德曼太太对面刺绣美丽的椅子上很有威仪地坐下来，以拐杖支撑着，希望能跟潘思德曼太太一般优雅。
    豪尔则在旁边的椅子上优雅地坐下，看来气定神闲，十分自在。苏菲真羡慕他。
    “我今年八十六岁了，”潘思德曼太太说。“围龙太太，你贵庚多少啊？”
    “九十。”这是第一个闪进她脑袋里的大数字。
    “这么高寿了？”潘思德曼太太语气里带着一点淡淡的羡慕：“行动居然还这样灵活。”
    “就是啊，她可灵活着呢！”豪尔在旁边符合：“有时叫她停还停不下来。”潘思德曼太太斜凝了他一眼，那眼光令苏菲知道，她当老师时严格的程度绝对不输给安歌丽雅小姐。“我现在是在跟你妈妈说话。我敢打赌她跟我一样以你为傲，我们两个老妇人可说是共同把你塑造成型的。就某种意义而言，你是我们的共同成品。”
    “你难道不认为我自己也有那么一点功劳吗？”豪尔问道：“加了点自我风格什么的？”
    “是有那么一点点。但大都是我不喜欢的。”潘思德曼太太回答：“我想，你不会喜欢坐在这里听人家议论你吧？你带你的侍童去阳台坐，汉曲会拿冷饮给你们。去吧！”
    假如苏菲不是那么紧张的话，豪尔脸上的表情一定会让她笑出来，他显然一点都没预期到事情会变成这样，不过，他略略耸了一下肩膀后，还是站起来，投给苏菲一个略带警告的脸色，挥手要麦可在他之前走出房间。潘思德曼太太僵硬的身体稍微转过去，目送他们离开房间，然后她对侍童点点头，于是他也匆忙离开。在那之后，潘思德曼太太转过来面对苏菲，这令苏菲更加紧张。
    “我比较喜欢他黑头发的样子。”潘思德曼太太说：“那孩子有点往歪路上走。”
    “谁？麦可吗？”苏菲困惑地问。
    “不是那个侍者，”潘思德曼太太说：“他还没聪明到会让我担心的程度。围龙太太，我说的是豪尔。”
    “噢！”苏菲有些吃惊，不明白为何潘思德曼太太说的是‘在往歪路上走’。依她之见，豪尔老早就变坏了。
    “看他的外表！”潘思德曼太太一鼓作气地往下说：“还有，看看他那身衣服！”
    “他一向非常重视外表。”苏菲符合着，但奇怪自己语气为何如此温和。
    “是的，一向如此。我也很注重外表，我并不觉得这有什么不好。”潘思德曼太太说：“但是干吗去穿一件有迷咒的衣服？那是专用来吸引女孩的魅力迷咒。我得承认他弄得很巧妙！居然藏在衣服的缝合处里！连我这个训练有素的眼睛都很难侦察得出。这迷咒会令女孩子几乎无法拒绝他。这不是在往黑魔术的邪路上走是什么？围龙太太，我相信身为母亲的你一定很担心吧？”
    苏菲不安地想到那件灰色大红色的外套。她在缝布边时，一点也没注意到有什么特别之处。但是潘思德曼太太是魔法的专家，而她苏菲不过是个做衣服的专家。
    潘思德曼太太将两手放在手杖上头，上身倾斜，她那训练有素的锐利眼睛笔直地看入苏菲的双眼，苏菲越来越紧张不安。“我的生命已快走到尽头。”潘思德曼太太说：“已经有好一阵子了，我可以感觉到死亡在悄悄接近。”
    “不会的。”苏菲试着说些安慰的话。但是当潘思德曼太太那样盯着她时，说什么都好象不对劲。
    “不会错的，围龙太太。”潘思德曼太太说：“这也是为什么我急着跟你见面的原因。你知道，豪尔是我的关门弟子，同时也是我教过最出色的学生。在我将退休时，他由国外跑来。我训练好班哲明.苏利曼后，本以为我的教书生涯已经告一段落。班哲明，你比较熟悉的名字大概是苏利曼巫师吧？我帮他找了宫廷魔法师的工作，巧的是，他跟豪尔都来自同一个国家。豪尔出现时，我一看就知道他的想象力和能力都在苏利曼的两倍之上。虽然个性上有些缺点，但是瑕不遮瑜，我知道他是良善的力量。良善！但是围龙太太，他现在成了什么样了？”
    “是啊，为什么？”苏菲问。
    “他一定出过什么事。”潘思德曼太太仍然紧盯着苏菲，说：“我死前一定要把这个纠正过来。”
    “依你猜测，是出了什么错？”苏菲不安地问道。
    “我必须仰仗你来告诉我。”潘思德曼太太说：“我的感觉是，他走上跟荒地女巫一样的路了。我听说她原本不是恶人，当然这只是道听途说而已，因为她比我们两人年纪都大，她是靠着魔法维持青春不坠的，豪尔的天赋和她不相轩轾，看来越是天赋高的人，越难避免在一些特别危险的事物上自作聪明，结果就造成致命伤，往邪恶一路堕落下去。豪尔为什么会这样，你有没有任何概念？”
    卡西法的声音突然在苏菲脑中出现：“这契约长此以往对我们两人都很不好。”尽管外头的热风透过敞开的窗口吹进这个优雅的房间，她仍然打了一个寒战。“是的。”她说：“他跟他的火魔签了某种契约。”
    潘思德曼太太拄着拐杖的双手微颤了一下。“这就是了！围龙太太，你一定要把那个契约打破。”
    “但愿我知道该怎么做。”苏菲说。
    “我确信你的母性本能和你本身强大的魔法天赋，将会给你指出一个方法。”潘思德曼太太说：“围龙太太，或许你没注意到，但我一直在观察你……”
    “噢，我注意到了，潘思德曼太太。”苏菲说。
    “而我喜欢你的天赋。”潘思德曼太太说：“它能赋予你生命。比如你手中的拐杖吧，显然你跟它说过话，说多了它就变成一根外行人所说的魔杖。我想，要破除那个契约你应该不会太困难才是。”
    “但是，我需要知道契约的内容。”苏菲说：“是豪尔跟你说我是女巫的吗？因为如果他……”
    “他没有。你无需觉得不好意思。我的经验足以察知像这样的事情。”说完，她闭上双眼，那感觉就像强光突然被关掉一样，苏菲暗暗松一口气。“关于那种契约，”她说：“我并不清楚，也不想知道。”
    她的拐杖又动了一下，好象她在颤抖似的，嘴巴则抿成一条直线，好象无意中咬到辣椒一样。“不过我终于明白，”她说：“女巫发生了什么事。她跟火魔签约。随着时间过去，火魔控制了她。邪魔是不了解善恶的分野的，但是如果人类能给它们贵重的东西——只有人类独有的东西的话，它们就会接受贿赂而签下契约。经由契约，两者的生命都得以获得延长，而人类也可以获得火魔的法力，增长自己原有的功力。”潘思德曼太太再度张开眼睛。“关于这个话题，我只能说这么多了。你必须找出火魔由豪尔那里拿了什么。我得跟你说再见了，我需要休息一会儿。”
    然后就像魔法一样，也有可能是出于魔法，门打开，侍童走了进来，领苏菲出去。苏菲很高兴终于可以离开，她已经快尴尬到无地自容了。她转过头看到门阂起来，将潘思德曼太太僵硬挺直的身影关在门后。她想着：若自己真是豪尔的母亲的话，是不是还会怕潘思德曼太太怕得这么厉害？答案是‘会’。她喃喃地跟自己说：“真是蛮佩服豪尔的！可以忍受这样可怕的老师一天以上。”
    “什么事，夫人？”带路的侍童问她，以为她在跟他说话。
    “我说，下楼梯要走慢点，不然我跟不上。”苏菲说，她的膝盖发着抖。“你们年轻人就是横冲直撞的。”
    那侍童体贴地领着她慢慢走下光可鉴人的楼梯。走到一半时，苏菲逐渐由惊吓的情绪中恢复过来，开始思考潘思德曼太太方才说的话。她说苏菲是女巫，奇怪的事，苏菲很自然就接受了。因为这说明了为什么一些特定的帽子会热卖，珍法丽儿为何能嫁给某某男爵，也就说明了为什么荒地女巫会嫉妒她。苏菲似乎一直都知道这些事，但潜意识里她有可以逃避，觉得身为三个小孩中的老大，不应该有这样神奇的天赋礼物。乐蒂则较能理性地看待这些事情。
    接着她想到那件灰色与大红色的外套，一失神，差点跌下楼梯。是她把迷咒放上去的！她还记得自己是怎么跟那件衣服说的——缝了好迷死女孩子们！那衣服当然照做了。那天在果园里它吸引了乐蒂。昨天表面上装得若无其事，安歌丽雅小姐暗地里一定也手到它的影响。
    天哪！苏菲心中暗暗叫苦，我是帮凶！帮他伤了两倍的女孩子的心！明天一定得想办法把那件衣服由他身上剥下来。
    豪尔就穿着那套衣服跟麦可在凉爽的黑白相间客厅里等她。麦可看到苏菲缓慢地跟在侍童身后走下楼梯，担忧地以手肘轻推了豪尔一下。
    豪尔露出难过的表情。“你看起来糟透了！我看我们不要去见国王好了。我去跟国王解释你不能去的理由时，会顺便自我抹黑，我可以说是我邪恶的行为把你气病什么的。那也是实话，瞧你这个样子。”
    苏菲当然不想见国王，但是她想到卡西法说的话。如果国王命令豪尔到荒地去，而豪尔不幸地被女巫抓住，苏菲自己也会失去回复年轻的机会。因此她摇摇头，说：“见过潘思德曼太太后，印格利国国王看起来大概会跟普通人差不多了。”
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Chapter 13 In which Sophie blackens Howl’s name
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.
“Mrs. Pendragon to see the King!” the voice of each echoed down the halls.
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.”
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.
He said, “Well, what does Wizard Howl’s mother want to see me about?”
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.
“He sent me to tell you he’s not going to look for your brother,” she said. “Your Majesty.”
She stared at the King. The King stared back. It was a disaster.
“Are you sure?” asked the King. “The Wizard seemed quite willing when I talked to him.”
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.”
“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?”
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.”

  “It is an unusual step,” the King said gravely. “But I told him that I’d make it worth his while if he agreed.”
“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.”
“Then he has every reason to be scared,” the King said with a slight shiver. “But tell me more, please, about the Wizard.”
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.”
“My impression,” said the King, “was that Howl is an unprincipled, slippery rogue with a glib tongue and a clever mind. Would you agree?”
“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.
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.”
“Oh, confound it!” Sophie cried out. “He sent me to tell you he wasn’t!”
“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.”
“Howl will just run away,” Sophie warned the King.
“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?”
Sophie nodded. She wished she could have remembered all Howl’s delicate remarks. The King would have understood them even if she did not.

  “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.”
“I think you may be-er-taking delicate hints that aren’t there, Your Majesty,” Sophie said.
“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.”
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.
“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!”
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.
“Oh, drat!” said Sophie.
One of the courtiers hastened up to her and bowed. “Madam Sorceress! Can I be of assistance?”
He was an undersized young man, rather red-eyes. Sophie stared at him. “Oh, good gracious!” she said. “So the spell worked!”
“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.”
“I’m not sure that it mightn’t be the other way round,” Sophie said. “Are you by any chance the count of Catterack?”
“At your service,” said the small courtier, bowing.
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.
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.

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

  “I don’t know who this person is that you’ve killed,” she said, “but that makes you a wicked murderess.”
But the Witch did seem to suspect anyway. She said, “But I thought you said you were going to call on Mrs. Pentstemmon?”
“No,” said Sophie. “It was you said that. I don’t have to know her to call you wicked for killing her.”
“Then where were you going?” said the Witch.
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.
The Witch laughed disbelievingly. “But will the King see you?”
“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.”
“Then you’re going in the wrong direction,” said the Witch. “The Palace is behind you.”
“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.”
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.”
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.
“Why did you make me like this?” she demanded as they went up a grand thoroughfare with a fountain on top of it.
“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.
“No,” said Sophie. “Is it under the sea?”
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?”
“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.
“There you are. There’s the Palace,” said the Witch. “Are you sure you can manage all those stairs?”
“None the better for you,” said Sophie. “Make me young again and I’ll run up them, even in this heat.”
“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.”

  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.
“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.”
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.”
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.”
“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!
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.”
Sophie tottered to the low chair the King pointed to and sank into it, wondering when the guards would arrive to arrest her.
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.”
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.
“Oh,” said Sophie, feeling an awful fool.
“I understand how a parent feels, Mrs. Pendragon,” said the King.  

    第13章抹黑豪尔的名声
    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。
    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。
    “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。”
    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。
    他开口问道：“豪尔巫师的母亲，你找我有什么事？”
    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。
    “陛下，他要我来告诉你，他不要帮你去找你弟弟。”她说。
    她瞪着国王，国王也回瞪过来。天哪，一团糟！
    “真的吗？”国王问道：“我问他的时候，他好像蛮乐意的。”
    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。”
    “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。”
    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。”
    “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。”
    “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。”
    “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。”
    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。”
    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？”
    “说得好！”苏菲完全赞成。“不过你漏掉虚荣和……”
    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。
    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。”
    “天哪！该糟了！”苏菲叹道：“他要我来告诉你，他不要去的。”
    “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。”
    “豪尔会偷跑的。”苏菲警告国王。
    “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？”
    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。
    “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。”
    “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。
    “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。”
    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。
    “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！”
    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。
    “要命！”她叹道。
    有位朝臣急步对她走来：“魔法夫人，我能帮您的忙吗？”
    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？”
    “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。”
    “彼此彼此。”苏菲说：“你会不会恰好就是卡特拉克男爵？”
    “正是在下。”小个子朝臣说着，对她弯腰鞠了一个躬。
    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。
    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。
    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。
    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。
    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？”
    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。
    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。
    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。
    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。”
    “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。
    “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。”
    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。
    “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。”
    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？”
    “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。”
    “不然你要去哪里？”女巫问。
    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。”
    女巫不相信，哈哈大笑。“可是，国王肯见你吗？”
    “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。”
    “那你走错方向了。”女巫说：“王宫在你后面。”
    “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。”
    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。”
    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。
    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。
    “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。
    “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？”
    “没有。那是在海底下吗？”
    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？”
    “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。
    “到了，王宫就在那儿。”女巫问道：“你有办法应付那些阶梯吗？”
    “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。”
    “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。”
    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。
    “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。”
    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。”
    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。
    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。”
    “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。
    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。”
    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。
    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。”
    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。
    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。
    “噢。”苏菲觉得自己像个超级笨蛋。
    “围龙太太，我了解为人父母者的感受。”国王说。
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Chapter 14 In which a Royal Wizard catches a cold
Sophie rode back to the castle’s Kingsbury entrance in one of the King’s coaches, drawn by four horses. On it also were a coachman, a groom, and a footman. A sergeant and six Royal Troopers went with it to guard it. The reason was Princess Valeria. She had climbed into Sophie’s lap. As the coach clattered the short way downhill, Sophie’s dress was still covered with the wet marks of Valeria’s royal approval. Sophie smiled a little. She thought Martha might have a point after all, wanting children, although ten Valerias struck her as a bit much. As Valeria had scrambled over her, Sophie remembered hearing that the Witch had threatened in some way, and she found herself saying to Valeria, “The Witch shan’t hurt you. I won’t let her!”
The King had not said anything about that. But he had ordered out a royal coach for Sophie.
The equipage drew to a very noisy halt outside the disguised stable. Michael shot out of the door and got in the way of the footman who was helping Sophie down. “Where did you get to?” he said. “I’ve been so worried! And Howl’s terribly upset-”
“I’m sure he is,” Sophie said apprehensively.
“Because Mrs. Pentstemmon’s dead,” said Michael.
Howl came to the door too. He looked pale and depressed. He was holding a scroll with red-and-blue royal seals dangling off it, which Sophie eyed guiltily. Howl gave the sergeant a gold piece and did not say a word until the coach and the Troopers had gone clattering away. Then he said, “I make that four horses and ten men just to get rid of one old woman. What did you do to the King?”
Sophie followed Howl and Michael indoors, expecting to find the room covered with green slime. But it was not, and there was Calcifer flaring up the chimney, grinning his purple grin. Sophie sank into the chair. “I think the king got sick of me turning up and blackening your name. I went twice,” she said. “Everything went wrong. And I met the Witch on her way from killing Mrs. Pentstemmon. What a day!”
While Sophie described some of what had happened, Howl leaned on the mantelpiece, dangling the scroll as if he was thinking of feeding it to Calcifer. “Behold the new Royal Wizard,” he said. “My name is very black.” Then he began to laugh, much to the surprise of Sophie and Michael. “And what did she do to the Count of Catterack?” he laughed. “I should never have let her near the King!”
“I did blacken your name!” Sophie protested.
“I know. It was my miscalculation,” Howl said. “Now, how am I going to go to poor Mrs. Pentstemmon’s funeral without the Witch knowing? Any ideas, Calcifer?”
It was clear that Howl was far more upset about Mrs. Pentstemmon than anything else.
Michael was the one who worried about the Witch. He confessed next morning that he had had nightmares all night. He had dreamed she came through all the castle entrances at once. “Where’s Howl?” he asked anxiously.
Howl had gone out very early, leaving the bathroom full of the usual scented steam. He had not taken his guitar, and the doorknob was turned to green-down. Even Calcifer knew no more than that. “Don’t open the door to anyone,’ Calcifer said. “The Witch knows about all our entrances except the Porthaven one.”

  

  This so alarmed Michael that he fetched some planks from the yard and wedged them crosswise over the door. Then he got to work at last on the spell they had got back from Miss Angorian.
Half an hour later the doorknob turned sharply to black-down. The door began to bounce about. Michael clutched at Sophie. “Don’t be afraid,” he said shakily. “I’ll keep you safe.”
The door bounced powerfully for a while. Then it stopped. Michael had just let go of Sophie in great relief when there came a violent explosion. Calcifer plunged to the bottom of the grate and Michael plunged into the broom cupboard, leaving Sophie standing there as the door burst open and Howl stormed in.
“This is a bit much, Sophie!” he said. “I do live here.” He was soaking wet. The gray-and-scarlet suit was black-and-brown. His sleeves and the ends of his hair were dripping.
Sophie looked at the doorknob, still turned to black-down. Miss Angorian, she thought. And he went to see her in that charmed suit. “Where have you been?” she said.
Howl sneezed. “Standing in the rain. None of your business,” he said hoarsely. “What were those planks in aid of?”
“I did them,” Michael said, edging out of the broom cupboard. “The Witch-”
“You must think I don’t know my business,” Howl said irritably. “I have so many misdirection spells out that most people wouldn’t find us at all. I give even the Witch three days. Calcifer, I need a hot drink.”
Calcifer had been climbing up among his logs, but as Howl went over to the fireplace, he plunged down again. “Don’t come near me like that! You’re wet!” he hissed.
“Sophie,’ Howl said pleadingly.
Sophie folded her arms pitilessly. “What about Lettie?” she said.
“I’m soaked through,’ said Howl. “I should have a hot drink.”
“And I said, what about Lettie Hatter?” Sophie said.
“Bother you, then!” said Howl. He shook himself. The water fell off him in a neat ring on the floor. Howl stepped out of it with his hair gleaming dry and his suit gray-and-scarlet and not even damp, and went to fetch the saucepan. “The world is full of hard-hearted women, Michael,” he said. “I can name three without stopping to think.”
“One of them being Miss Angorian?” asked Sophie.
Howl did not answer. He ignored Sophie grandly for the rest of the morning while he discussed moving the castle with Michael and Calcifer. Howl really was going to run away, just as she had warned the King he would, Sophie thought as she sat and sewed more triangles of blue-and-silver suit together. She knew she must get Howl out of that gray-and-scarlet suit as soon as possible.
“I don’t think we need move the Porthaven entrance,” Howl said. He conjured himself a handkerchief out of the air and blew his nose with a hoot which made Calcifer flicker uneasily. “But I want the moving castle well away from anywhere it’s been before and the Kingsbury entrance shut down.”
Someone knocked on the door then. Sophie noticed that Howl jumped and looked round as nervously as Michael. Neither of them answered the door. Coward! Sophie thought scornfully. She wondered why she had gone through all that trouble for Howl yesterday. “I must have been mad!” she muttered to the blue-and-silver suit.

  “What about the black-down entrance?” Michael asked when the person knocking seemed to have gone away.
“That stays,” Howl said, and conjured himself another handkerchief with a final sort of flick.
It would! Sophie thought. Miss Angorian is outside it. Poor Lettie!
By the middle of the morning Howl was conjuring handkerchiefs in twos and threes. They were floppy squares of paper really, Sophie saw. He kept sneezing. His voice grew hoarser. He was conjuring handkerchiefs by the half-dozen soon. Ashes from the used ones were piled all round Calcifer.
“Oh, why is that whenever I go to Wales I always come back with a cold!” Howl croaked and conjured himself a whole wad of tissues.
Sophie snorted.
“Did you say something?” Howl croaked.
“No, but I was thinking that people who run away from everything deserve every cold they get,” Sophie said. “People who are appointed to do something by the King and go courting in the rain instead have only themselves to blame.”
“You don’t know everything I do, Mrs. Moralizer,’ Howl said. “Want me to write out a list before I go out another time? I have looked for Prince Justin. Courting isn’t the only thing I do when I go out.”
“When have you looked?” said Sophie.
“Oh, how your ears flap and your long nose twitches!” Howl croaked. “I looked when he first disappeared, of course. I was curious to know what Prince Justin was doing up this way, when everyone knew Suliman had gone to the Waste. I think someone must have sold him a dud finding spell, because he went right over into the Folding Valley and bought another from Mrs. Fairfax. And that fetched him back this way, fairly naturally, where he stopped at he castle and Michael sold him another finding spell and a disguise spell-”
Michael’s hand went over his mouth. “Was that man in the green uniform Prince Justin?”
“Yes, but I didn’t mention the matter before,” said Howl, “because the King might have thought you should have had the sense to sell him another dud. I had a conscience about it. Conscience. Notice that word, Mrs. Longnose. I had a conscience.” Howl conjured another wad of handkerchiefs and glowered at Sophie over them out of eyes that were now red-rimmed and watery. Then he stood up. “I feel ill,” he announced. “I’m going to bed, where I may die.” He tottered piteously to the stairs. “Bury me beside Mrs. Pentstemmon,” he croaked as he went up them to bed.
Sophie applied herself to her sewing harder than ever. Here was her chance to get the gray-and-scarlet suit off Howl before it did more damage to Miss Angorian’s heart-unless, of course, Howl went to bed in his clothes, which she did not put past him. So Howl must have been looking for Prince Justin when he went to Upper folding and met Lettie. Poor Lettie! Sophie thought, putting brisk, tiny stitches round her fifty-seventh blue triangle. Only another forty or so to go.
Howl’s voice was presently heard shouting weakly, “Help me, someone! I’m dying from neglect up here!”
Sophie snorted. Michael left off working on his new spell and ran up and downstairs. Things became very restless. In the time it took Sophie to sew ten more blue triangles Michael ran upstairs with lemon and honey, with a particular book, with cough mixture, with a spoon to take the cough mixture with, and then with nose drops, throat pastilles, gargle, pen, paper, three more books, and an infusion of willow bark. People kept knocking at the door too, making Sophie jump and Calcifer flicker uneasily. When no one opened the door, some of the people went on hammering for five minutes or so, rightly thinking they were being ignored.

  By this time, Sophie was becoming worried about the blue-and-silver suit. It was getting smaller and smaller. One cannot sew in that number of triangles without taking up quite a lot of cloth in the seams. ‘Michael,” she said when Michael came rushing downstairs again because Howl fancied a bacon sandwich for lunch. “Michel, is there a way of making small clothes larger?”
“Oh, yes,” said Michael. “That’s just what my new spell is-when I get the chance to work on it. He wants six slices of bacon in the sandwich. Could you ask Calcifer?”
Sophie and Calcifer exchanged speaking looks. ‘I don’t think he’s dying,” Calcifer said.
“I’ll give you the rinds to eat if you bend your head down,” Sophie said, laying down her sewing. It was easier to bribe Calcifer than bully him.
They had bacon sandwiches for lunch, but Michel had to rush upstairs in the middle of eating his. He came down with the news that Howl wanted him to go into Market Chipping now, to get some things he needed for moving the castle.
“But the Witch-is it safe?” Sophie asked.
Michael licked bacon grease off his fingers and dived into the broom cupboard. He came out with one of the dusty velvet cloaks slung round his shoulders. At last, the person who came out wearing the cloak was a burly man with a red beard. This person licked his fingers and said with Michael’s voice, “Howl thinks I’ll be safe enough like this. It’s misdirection as well as disguise. I wonder if Lettie will know me.” The burly man opened the door green-down and jumped out onto the slowly moving hills.
Peace descended. Calcifer settled and chinked. Howl had evidently realized that Sophie was not going to run about after him. There was silence upstairs. Sophie got up and cautiously hobbled to the broom cupboard. This was her chance to go and see Lettie. Lettie must be very miserable by now. Sophie was fairly sure Howl had not been near her since that day in the orchard. It might just do some good if Sophie were to tell her that her feelings were caused by a charmed suit. Anyway, she owed it to Lettie to tell her.
The seven-league boots were not in the cupboard. Sophie could not believe it at first. She turned everything out. And there was nothing there but ordinary buckets, brooms, and the other velvet cloak. “Drat the man!” Sophie exclaimed. Howl had obviously made sure she would not follow him anywhere.
She was putting everything back into the cupboard when someone knocked at the door. Sophie, as usual, jumped and hoped they would go away. Bu this person seemed more determined than most. Whoever it was went on knocking-or perhaps hurling him or herself at the door, for the sound was more a steady whump, whump, whump, than proper knocking. After five minutes they were still doing it.
Sophie looked at the uneasy green flickers which were all she could see of Calcifer. “Is it the Witch?”
“No,” said Calcifer, muffled among his logs. “It’s the castle door. Someone must be running along beside us. We’re going quite fast.”
“Is it the scarecrow?” Sophie asked, and her chest gave a tremor at the mere idea.

  “It’s flesh and blood,” Calcifer sad. His blue face climbed up into the chimney, looking puzzled. “I’m not sure what it is, except it wants to come in badly. I don’t think it means any harm.”
Since the whump, whump just kept on, giving Sophie an irritable feeling of urgency, she decided to open the door and put a stop to it. Besides, she was curious about what it was. She still had the second velvet cloak in her hand from turning out the broom cupboard, so she threw it round her shoulders as he went to the door. Calcifer stared. Then, for the first time since she had known him, he bent his head down voluntarily. Great cackles of laughter came from under the curly green flames. Wondering what the cloak had turned her into, Sophie opened the door.
A huge, spindly greyhound leaped off the hillside between the grinding black blocks of the castle and landed in the middle of the room. Sophie dropped the cloak and backed away hurriedly. She had always been nervous of dogs, and greyhounds are not reassuring to look at. This one put itself between her and the door and stared at her. Sophie looked longingly at the wheeling rocks outside and wondered whether it would do any good to yell for Howl.
The dog bent its already bent back and somehow hoisted itself onto its lean hind legs. That made it almost as tall as Sophie. It held its front legs stiffly out and heaved upward again. Then, as Sophie had her mouth open to yell to Howl, the creature put out what was obviously an enormous effort and surged upward into the shape of a man in a crumpled brown suit. He had gingerish hair and a pale, unhappy face.
“Came from Upper Folding!” panted this dog-man. “Love Lettie-Lettie sent me-Lettie crying and very unhappy-sent me to you-told me to stay-” He began to double up and shrink before he had finished speaking. He gave a dog howl of despair and annoyance. “Don’t tell Wizard!” he whined and dwindled away inside reddish curly hair into a dog again. A different dog. This time he seemed to be a red setter. The red setter waved its fringed tail and stared earnestly at Sophie from melting, miserable eyes.
“Oh, dear,” said Sophie as she shut the door. “You do have troubles, my friend. You were that collie dog, weren’t you? Now I see what Mrs. Fairfax was talking about. That Witch wants slaying, she really does! But why has Lettie sent you here? If you don’t want me to tell Wizard Howl-”
The dog growled faintly at the name. But it also wagged its tail and stared appealingly.
“All right. I won’t tell him,” Sophie promised. The dog seemed reassured. He trotted to the hearth, where he gave Calcifer a somewhat wary look and lay down beside the fender in a skinny red bundle. “Calcifer, what do you think?” Sophie said.
“This dog is a bespelled human,” Calcifer said unnecessarily.
“I know, but can you take the spell off him?” Sophie asked. She supposed Lettie must have heard, like so many people, that howl had a witch working for him now. And it seemed rather important to turn the dog into a man again and send him back to Upper Folding before Howl got out of bed and found him there.

  “No. I’d need to be linked with Howl for that,” Calcifer said.
“Then I’ll try it myself,” Sophie said. Poor Lettie! Breaking her heart for Howl, and her only other lover a dog most of the time! Sophie laid her hand on the dog’s soft, rounded head. “Turn back into the man you should be,” she said. She said it quite often, but its only effect seemed to be to send the dog deeply to sleep. It snored and twitched against Sophie’s legs.
Meanwhile a certain amount of moaning and groaning was coming from upstairs. Sophie kept muttering to the dog and ignored it. A loud, hollow coughing followed, dying away into more moaning. Crashing sneezes followed the coughing, each one rattling the window and all the doors. Sophie found those harder to ignore, but she managed. Poot-pooooot! went a blown nose, like a bassoon in a tunnel. The coughing started again, mingled with moans. Sneezes mixed with the moans and the coughs, and the sounds rose to a crescendo in which Howl seemed to be managing to cough, groan, blow his nose, sneeze, and wail gently all at the same time. The doors rattled, the beams in the ceiling shook, and one of Calcifer’s logs rolled off onto the hearth.
“All right, all right, I get the message!” Sophie said, dumping the log back into the grate. “It’ll be green slime next. Calcifer, make sure that dog stays where it is.” And she climbed the stairs, muttering loudly, “Really, these wizards! You’d think no one had ever had a cold before! Well, what is it?” she asked, hobbling through the bedroom door onto the filthy carpet.
“I’m dying of boredom,” Howl said pathetically. “Or maybe just dying.”
He was lying propped on dirty gray pillows, looking quite poorly, with what might have been a patchwork coverlet over him except that it was all one color with dust. The spiders he seemed to like so much were spinning busily in the canopy above him.
Sophie felt his forehead. “You do have a bit of a fever,” she admitted.
“I’m delirious,” said Howl. “Spots are crawling before my eyes.”
“Those are spiders,” said Sophie. “Why can’t you cure yourself with a spell?”
“Because there is no cure for a cold,” Howl said dolefully. “Things are going round and round in my head-or maybe my head is going round and round in things. I keep thinking of the terms of the Witch’s curse. I hadn’t realized she could lay me bare like that. It’s a bad thing to be laid bare, even though the things that are true so far are all my own doing. I keep waiting for the rest to happen.”
Sophie thought back to the puzzling verse. “What things? ‘Tell me where all the past years are’?”
“Oh, I know that,” said Howl. “My own, or anyone else’s. They’re all there, just where they always were. I could go and play bad fairy at my own christening if I wanted. Maybe I did and that’s my trouble. No, there are only three things I’m waiting for: the mermaids, the mandrake root, and the wind to advance an honest mind. And whether I get white hairs, I suppose, only I’m not going to take the spell off to see. There’s only about three weeks left for them to come true in, and the Witch gets me as soon as they do. But the Rugby Club Reunion is Midsummer Eve, so I shall get to that at least. The rest all happened long ago.”
  “You mean the falling star and never being able to find a woman true and fair?” said Sophie. “I’m not surprised, the way you go on. Mrs. Pentstemmon told me you were going to the bad. She was right, wasn’t she?”
“I must go to her funeral if it kills me,” Howl said sadly. “Mrs. Pentstemmon always thought far too well of me. I blinded her with my charm.” Water ran out of his eyes. Sophie had no idea if he was really crying, or whether it was simply his cold. But she noticed he was slithering out again.
“I was talking about the way you keep dropping ladies as soon as you’ve made them love you,” she said. “Why do you do it?”
Howl pointed a shaky hand up toward the canopy of his bed. “That’s why I love spiders. ‘If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try, again.’ I keep trying,” he said with great sadness. “But I brought it on myself by making a bargain some years ago, and I know I shall never be able to love anyone properly now.”
The water running out of Howl’s eyes was definitely tears now. Sophie was concerned. “Now, you mustn’t cry-”
There was a pattering outside. Sophie looked round to see the dog-man oozing himself past the door in a neat half-circle. She reached out and caught a handful of his red coat, thinking he was certainly coming to bite Howl. But all the dog did was to lean against her legs, so that she had to stagger back to the peeling wall.
“What’s this?” said Howl.
“My new dog,” Sophie said, hanging on to its curly hair. Now she was against the wall, she could see out of the bedroom window. It ought to have looked out on the yard, but instead it showed a view of a neat, square garden with a child’s metal wing in the middle. The setting sun was firing raindrops hanging on the swing to blue and red. As Sophie stood and stared, Howl’s niece, Mari, came running across the wet grass. Howl’s sister, Megan, followed Mari. She was evidently shouting that Mari should not sit on the wet swing, but no sound seemed to come through. “Is that the place called Wales?” Sophie asked.
Howl laughed and pounded on the coverlet. Dust climbed like smoke. “Bother that dog!” he croaked. “I had a bet on with myself that I could keep you from snooping out of the window all the time you were in here!”
“Did you now?” said Sophie, and she let go of the dog, hoping he would bite Howl hard. But the dog only went on leaning on her, shoving her toward the door now. “So all that song and dance was just a game, was it?” she said. “I might have known!”
Howl lay back on his gray pillows, looking wronged and injured. “Sometimes,” he said reproachfully, “you sound just like Megan.”
“Sometimes,” Sophie answered, shooing the dog out of the room in front of her, “I understand how Megan got the way she is.”
And she shut the door on the spiders, the dust, and the garden, with a loud bang.  
  
    第14章生病的皇家巫师
    苏菲搭乘一辆由四匹马拉着的国王座车，回到城堡的金斯别利城入口。车上还有车夫、车童和一位仆役。随行保护的则有一位士官和六个士兵。所以这样隆重，全是因为薇乐莉雅公主的缘故，她爬到苏菲身上玩。
    马车在短短的下山路上发出咕噜咕噜的声音，苏菲衣服上犹留有薇乐莉雅公主湿漉漉的口水痕迹，那是她喜爱的明证，苏菲忍不住要微笑起来。她终于了解玛莎的一些想法了，虽然十个小孩感觉上还是太多了些。当薇乐莉雅公主在她身上爬上爬下时，她想起女巫曾经对公主做出某种威胁，她忍不住跟薇乐莉雅说：“我绝不许那女巫动你一根汗毛！”
    当时国王没说什么，但是随后却叫皇家马车送她回去。
    车队在伪装的马厩外头热热闹闹的停住了。麦可由门内冲出来，挡在正在扶苏菲下车的仆役身前，问道：“你跑哪里去了？我担心得要死！豪尔心情非常恶劣……”
    “我知道他会，”苏菲担心地说。
    “因为潘思德曼太太死了。”麦可说。
    豪尔也来到门口，他看起来苍白且情绪低落。他手里拿着一个卷轴，上面盖有王室红蓝二色的印章，苏菲带着罪恶感看它。豪尔赏给那士官一个金币。一直到车子与车队辘辘地离开后都一言不发。然后他说：“为了摆脱一个老女人，居然要动用到四匹马和十个人！你对国王做了什么？”
    苏菲跟着豪尔和麦可进入屋里，她原以为会看到一屋子的绿色黏液，结果居然没有，卡西法高高地燃上烟囱，露出紫色的微笑。苏菲沉到椅子里：“我猜国王大概受不了我一直跟他破坏你的名声吧？我去了两次。”她叹道：“没有一件事顺利！还碰到刚杀死潘思德曼太太的女巫。什么日子嘛！”
    当苏菲述说当天发生的一些事情时，豪尔靠着壁炉架，放任卷轴垂下来，好象在考虑要不要拿它来喂卡西法似的。“看呀，皇家巫师在此！”他说：“而且我的名声超烂！”然后出乎苏菲和麦可意料之外的，他突然大笑。“看她把那个卡特拉克男爵搞成什么样子？我根本不该让她接近国王的。”
    “可是我真的有破坏你的名誉呀！”苏菲抗议。
    “我知道，那是我估计错误。”豪尔说：“接下来，我该如何才能去参加潘思德曼太太的葬礼而不被女巫认出来呢？卡西法，有什么点子没？”
    很明显的，豪尔对潘思德曼太太去世一事，比对其他事情都来得难过。
    反倒是麦可非常担心女巫的事。第二天早晨，他供说昨夜做了一整夜的噩梦。梦见女巫由城堡的所有入口同时入侵。他紧张地问：“豪尔在哪里？”
    豪尔一早就出去了，浴室里仍残留着如常的充满香气的水蒸气。他没有带吉他，门柄则转到绿色向下。连卡西法也只知道这么多。“不管谁来都不能开门。”卡西法叮咛道：“除了避难港那一个之外，女巫知道所有的入口。”
    麦可担心的不得了，由院子里取来一些厚板，横着嵌在门上，都弄好后才去学习他们由安歌丽雅小姐处拿回来的那个咒语。
    半小时后，门柄突然转到黑色向下，门开始震动。麦可抓住苏菲，牙齿打颤地说：“别……害怕，我……会保护你的。”
    门激烈地震动了一阵子后，停住了。麦可大大松了一口气，放开抓着苏菲的手。就在这时，传来一阵剧烈的爆炸，厚板应声哗啦啦地掉到底墒。卡西法躲到炉架的低部，麦可躲进放扫把的储物柜里，独留苏菲一人站在那里。门突然打开，豪尔冲了进来。
    “太过分了吧！”他说：“好歹我是住这里的。”他全身湿透，灰色和红色的外衣变成黑色和褐色，袖子和头发都往下垂。
    苏菲看看门把，仍然是黑色朝下。她想，原来是安歌丽雅小姐，而他就穿着那件有迷咒的衣服去见她！“你到哪儿去了？”她问道。
    豪尔打了一个喷嚏。“就在雨中站着，不干你的事。”声音沙哑。“那些厚板是干吗用的？”
    “是我放的，”麦可由储物柜里钻出来。“女巫……”
    “你一定以为我很逊是吧？”豪尔生气地说：“我施放了许多指错路的咒语，大部分的人根本找不到这个地方。就是女巫也要花上三天才找得到！卡西法，我需要一杯热饮。”
    卡西法本来已爬到燃木之上，但是豪尔才对着它弯身，它就又迅速地躲下去了。“你这个样子别靠近我！你全身都是湿的！”
    “苏菲？”豪尔恳求道。
    但是苏菲毫无怜悯，双手交叉在胸前。“你要拿乐蒂怎么办？”
    “我全身都湿透了，”豪尔说：“我必须喝杯热的。”
    “我刚问你呢，你要拿乐蒂怎么办？”
    “那就算了。”豪尔说。他全身抖动，水流下来，在地板上形成一个圆圈。豪尔跨出来，头发已经干燥并发着光亮，衣服也恢复为灰色和红色。他走过去拿起炖锅，“麦可，世界上多的是硬心肠的女人，”他说：“我不用想就可以说出三个人名。”
    “其中一个叫做安歌丽雅小姐对不对？”苏菲顶他。
    豪尔没有回答。剩下的早晨时间，他和卡西法及麦可讨论将城堡迁移的事，但是故意对苏菲不理不睬。豪尔真的像我跟国王警告的那样，决心要逃跑了。苏菲边坐着缝衣服边想。她正在把更多的三角形缝到那件蓝色及银色的衣服上面，她知道她必须尽快让豪尔脱下那件灰红色的衣服。
    “我想我们不需要移动避难港那扇门。”豪尔说着，由空中抓出一条手帕，用力地擤了一下鼻涕，令卡西法紧张地晃动起来。“但是我要这座移动的城堡远离它以前去过的地方，金斯别利的入口也要关掉。”
    突然有人敲门。苏菲注意到，豪尔跟麦可一样跳了起来，紧张地四处张望，两个人都不去应门。懦夫！苏菲心里偷骂，不知自己昨天为何要为豪尔的事那样费心。“我一定是疯了！”她跟手上正在缝的蓝银色衣服喃喃地说。
    “黑色向下的入口呢？”麦可问。
    “那个也留着。”豪尔说着，手指轻弹一下，又由空中拿了一条手帕。
    当然喽，苏菲想着，门外就是安歌丽雅小姐嘛！可怜的乐蒂！
    早晨过一半时，豪尔变成一次要拿两、三条手帕了。事实上，苏菲看出它们不过是软趴趴的方型纸罢了。他打喷嚏打个不停，声音也越来越沙哑，再不久，手帕一拿就是半打了。卡西法旁边堆满了他用过的手帕灰烬。
    “噢，为什么每次去威尔斯就会染上感冒回来？”豪尔哑着声音抱怨，然后由空中变出一叠手帕。
    苏菲嗤之以鼻。
    “你说了什么吗？”豪尔哑着声音问她。
    “没有。不过是想说，凡事都采取逃避手段的人，活该每次都感冒！”苏菲说道：“被国王指派了工作，却还跑到雨中去追女人的人，生病只能怪自己。”
    “道德女士，别以为我做的事你都一清二楚！”豪尔说：“下次我出门前要不要写张清单给你呀？我找过贾斯丁王子的！我出门不是只为了追女人的。”
    “你什么时候去找的？”
    “哈！耳朵马上竖起来了，长鼻子也突然会抽筋！”豪尔耻笑她：“当然是他失踪的时候嘛！我想知道贾斯丁王子干吗来这里？因为每个人都知道苏利曼到荒地去了。我的推断是有人卖了一个假的寻人咒给他，因为他一直找到上福尔丁去，他从菲菲克丝太太那里买了另一个寻人咒，那个寻人咒把他送到我这里来，麦可又卖个他另一个寻人咒外加一个伪装咒……”
    麦可的手盖住自己的嘴巴：“那个穿绿制服的人就是贾斯丁王子吗？”
    “是的，只是我以前不提罢了。”豪尔说：“因为国王可能会认为，你应该也卖了一个假货给他，但我卖东西可是讲良心的。良心，长鼻子太太，你注意到这个字没有？我是有良心的。”豪尔又从空中变出一叠手帕，隔着这叠手帕以通红又水汪汪的眼睛瞪着苏菲，然后他站起身，说：“我病了，我要去床上躺着，我可能会一睡不起。”他脚步踉跄，状极悲惨地走向楼梯。“把我埋在潘思德曼太太身边。”边沙哑地说，边上楼就寝。
    苏菲比以往更努力地缝纫，这是将那件灰色及暗红色外衣由豪尔身上剥下来，免得他对安歌丽雅小姐造成更多伤害的大好时机。除非，豪尔穿着那件衣服睡觉，那也不无可能。所以豪尔当初去上福尔丁，其实是为了找贾斯丁王子，结果在那里遇见乐蒂。可怜的乐蒂！苏菲想着，边轻快地在第五十七个蓝色三角形周边缝上细针，再缝四十个就大功告成了。
    豪尔微弱的叫喊声由楼上传来：“救命，我快被冷落至死了！”
    苏菲嗤之以鼻。麦可放下做了一半的咒语，楼上楼下地跑，整个屋子变得很不安静。就在苏菲缝十个蓝色三角形的期间，麦可带着柠檬和蜂蜜跑上楼，然后是某本特定的的书，咳嗽药和吃药用的汤匙，还有鼻滴剂、舌锭片、漱口药、笔、纸和另外三本书，以及用柳树皮熬的汁。此外，前来敲门的人亦是毫不间断，害苏菲老是吓得跳起来，卡西法也紧张得晃个不停。
    当没人应门时，有些人硬是不死心，认定里面的人是故意不理他们，就用力猛敲门敲上整整五分钟。
    苏菲开始担心这件蓝银色的外套越缝越小，要缝上那么多三角形，而不使用到大量布边是不可能的。“麦可，”当麦可又因为豪尔午餐想吃熏肉三明治而冲下楼时，苏菲唤住他：“有没有让衣服变大的方法？”
    “有的，”麦可回道：“我的新咒语就是关于这个，等我有时间再弄。他的三明治里要夹片熏肉，你可以请卡西法帮忙吗？”
    苏菲和卡西法交换了一下目光，卡西法说：“我不认为他会死掉。”
    “你如果把头低下来，我就把肉皮给你吃。”苏菲放下手里的工作跟它说。对付卡西法，来软的比来硬的有效。
    他们中餐就吃熏肉三明治，但是吃到一半，麦可又得冲上楼，。下来时他说，豪尔要他现在就去马克奇平买一些迁移城堡时需要用到的东西。
    “可是女巫……这样出去安全吗？”苏菲担心地问。
    麦可舔舔手指上熏肉的油，进入储物柜里。出来时肩上披了一件沾满灰尘的丝绒斗篷，斗篷下是一个身材粗壮，有红胡子的男人。这人舔舔手指，以麦可的声音说：“豪尔认为我这样应该就很安全了。这件斗篷有误导跟伪装的双重作用，不知这下乐蒂还认不认得出我？”这粗壮的男子将门把转到绿色朝下，跳向下面缓慢移动着的山丘。
    接着是一片安详。卡西法平静下来，不时发出轻微的爆裂声。豪尔显然知道苏菲不会为他跑上跑下，楼上是一片安静。苏菲站起来小心地走到放扫帚的储物柜，这是她去拜访乐蒂的大好机会，乐蒂现在一定很悲伤。苏菲很确定自从果树园那天之后，豪尔再也不曾接近她。如果苏菲能直接告诉她，她的感觉是因为迷咒所造成，可能会有帮助。这是她的错，她有义务跟乐蒂说。
    但是，七里格靴竟然不在柜子里！苏菲起先不能相信，她把所有的东西都翻了出来，结果还是找不到。柜子里除了普通的桶子、扫帚之外，只有另一件斗篷。“那该死的混蛋！”
    苏菲咬牙切齿，豪尔显然要确保苏菲不会再跟踪他。
    她正将东西一一放回柜子里时，突然有人敲门。苏菲一如平常吓得跳起来，希望那人会自动走开，但是这个人比其他任何人都固执。一直敲着，还是撞着门？因为那声音不像是一般的敲门声，而更像是一种撞击声。
    苏菲看着不安晃动的绿色小火花，卡西法吓到只剩这一丁点儿，问道：“是女巫吗？”
    “不是，”卡西法回答，因为躲在木头里，声音闷闷的：“响的是城堡的门，有人沿着城在追我们，我们现在速度已经很快了。”
    “是稻草人吗？”苏菲问。光是想到就害她的心脏跳了一下。
    “是血肉之躯。”卡西法的蓝脸攀上烟囱，一脸困惑：“我不确定那是什么，我只知道他拼命地想进来，我不认为他有恶意。”
    因为那撞门声一直不断，令苏菲有一种事情非常紧急的焦虑感，她决定开门好让他停止。此外，她也很好奇，想知道那到底是什么？刚刚在储物柜一阵翻找后，她手里仍拿着那件斗篷，她边往门走去，边将斗篷披在肩上。卡西法瞪大了眼睛，然后，自从苏菲认识它以来，它第一次自动低头，卷曲的绿焰下传来不可遏制的暴笑声。苏菲奇怪自己到底变得有多可笑，边将门打开。
    一只巨大，身材细长的狗由山坡一跃而起，穿过城堡那些嘎嘎作响的黑色砖头，降落在房间中间。苏菲丢下斗篷急速后退，她一向怕狗，而灰狗看起来一点都不会让人比较安心。这只狗就挡在她跟门之间，定定地盯着她。苏菲看着外头转动的岩石和石楠，心想不知喊豪尔的话会不会有帮助？
    狗原来已经弯弯的背弯得更厉害了，并且以后腿站起来，几乎与苏菲同高。它的前腿僵硬地往前伸。再度用力往上挺稳。然后，就在苏菲张开嘴准备叫唤豪尔时，它奋力地挣扎，往上挣出一个穿着皱巴巴褐色外套的人形。这人有一头赤黄色的头发，以及一张苍白、不快乐的脸。
    “来自上福而丁！”狗人喘着气说：“爱乐蒂。乐蒂谴我来……乐蒂一直哭，很不快乐……要我来找你……叫我留下来……”话还没说完，它开始弯身、缩小，发出痛苦绝望的嚎叫声：“别告诉巫师！”随即消失在一堆红色卷毛堆里，又变成一只狗，一只不同的狗，这次它似乎是一只红色的雪达猎犬。这只红色猎犬摇着毛茸茸的尾巴，以一双令人心碎的、悲伤的眼睛热切望着苏菲。
    “天哪！”苏菲关上门：“朋友啊，你确实有麻烦哩！你是那只柯利狗，对不对？现在我终于知道菲菲克丝太太到底在说什么了。那个女巫真是该杀，真是该杀！但是乐蒂为何会送你来这里？如果你不要我告诉豪尔巫师……”
    听到豪尔的名字，狗轻声嚎叫起来，同时摇着尾巴恳求地望着苏菲。
    “好吧，我不告诉他就是了。”苏菲承诺。狗似乎感到安心，走到壁炉前，担心地看着卡西法，然后就在炭围旁躺下来，瘦瘦的、红色的一团。“卡西法，你有什么看法？”苏菲问。
    “这只狗是被下咒的人。”卡西法说了等于没说。
    “我知道。但是，你能帮他去除咒语吗？”苏菲问。她的猜测是，乐蒂跟很多人一样，听说现在有一个女巫在帮咳尔做事。而如何在豪尔下床发现它之前，把这个狗人变回人，然后送回上福而丁似乎十分重要。
    “不行，我必须跟豪尔联结才有办法做到。”卡西法说。
    “那我只好自己试试看了。”苏菲说。可怜的乐蒂！为了豪尔心碎，而她的另一个恋人大部分时间是一条狗！苏菲将手放在狗柔软的圆形头上，说：“变回你原来的样子。”说了许多遍。但是唯一的功效似乎只是让狗沉沉地睡去。它打呼，靠着苏菲的脚抽动着。
    楼上开始传来呻吟声，苏菲故意不理，只是继续跟狗喃喃地说话。接下来是一阵剧烈的干咳，越咳越小声，最后又转为更多的呻吟，苏菲还是不理。于是，咳嗽之后加上震耳欲聋的喷嚏声，每个喷嚏都令窗户和门震动起来。这些就比较难忽视不理，但苏菲还是做到了。
    “噗……噗……”那是擤鼻涕的声音了，像在隧道里吹低音簧一样，然后咳嗽声再度扬起，混杂着呻吟声。接着是喷嚏声混合着呻吟与咳嗽，越来越响，到后来豪尔似乎是咳嗽、呻吟、擤鼻涕、打喷嚏和悲叹同时进行。门晃动着，屋梁抖动着，甚至卡西法的一根木头都滚落到壁炉里。
    “好啦，好啦！知道了啦！”苏菲说。把木头放回炉架上。“下一步就是绿色黏液了！卡西法，确定那只狗就待在那儿。”交代完后，她往楼上走，一边大声抱怨：“什么跟什么嘛！这些当巫师的！以为别人没感冒过是不是？好了，到底什么事？”她拐着脚走进房门，踏上肮脏的地毯。
    “我无聊的要死！”豪尔可怜兮兮地说：“也许我真的要死了也说不定。”
    他躺在垫高的肮脏灰色枕头上，看起来非常可怜，身上盖着一件原该是拼布做成的小被单，现在却因为蒙上灰尘，看来只是单一的颜色。那些似乎深为他所喜爱的蜘蛛，正在床顶的罩缝上忙碌地结网。
    苏菲摸摸他的额头。“你确实有点发烧。”她说。
    “我有幻觉。”豪尔说：“我眼前有圆点在爬来爬去。”
    “那是蜘蛛。”苏菲问他：“你为什么不用个咒语把自己治好？”
    “因为感冒是没有咒语可治的。”豪尔悲伤地说：“我脑子里有东西一直在转……也有可能是我的脑子在绕着东西转。我一直在想女巫咒语里那些条件。我一直不知道她可以将我揭露成那个样子。被人太了解不是好事，即使到目前为止那些都是真实的事，确实出于我自己所为。我一直早等其他部分发生。”
    苏菲回想那首诗的内容。“你说的是哪些事情？‘告诉我过去的岁月都去了哪里’那一句吗？”
    “噢，那句我知道。”豪尔说：“我自己的，或任何其他人的，都在那里！在它们一向在的地方，若我愿意的话，我可以在我自己的的洗礼仪式上扮演坏仙女的角色。也许我真的这样做了，才会有这些麻烦。不！我真正在等的只有三样事：美人鱼、曼佗罗花的花根，以及吹着诚实心灵向前的风。至于我会不会有白头发？反正我没办法把咒语解除，活到那个时候了。离这些事情发生只剩三个月了。等它们逐一兑现后，女巫就会抓住我。幸亏橄榄球俱乐部的同学会是在仲夏夜举行，所以，知道我还赶得及参加。其他的事，很久以前都发生过了。”
    “你是指落下的星辰永远找不到真爱的部分？”苏菲问他。“照你这样的生活方式，我一点也不觉得很奇怪。潘思德曼太太说你在往邪路上走，她说的没错，是不是？”
    “即使丢了这条性命，我也得去参加她的葬礼。”豪尔悲伤地说。“潘思德曼太太总是把我想得太好。大概是被我用迷咒弄瞎了眼。”有水从他眼中溢出。苏菲不太确定他是真的在哭，还是因为感冒的缘故。但是她发现他又开始回避问题。
    “我问的是，为什么你老是在跟女士们求爱后就马上抛弃她们？”她问：“为何要这么做？”
    豪尔以颤抖的手指着床铺上空的罩缝说：“这是为什么我会喜欢蜘蛛的原因。‘一试再试都不成，再试一下’。我一直试。”他语气充满极度的悲伤。“但我这是自作自受，这是多年前我跟人做了一笔交易之后的结果。我知道我这辈子再也不能好好地爱人了。”
    这次由眼睛中涌出来的，绝对是泪水了。苏菲很伤心。“啊，不要哭！！”
    门外传来噼里啪啦的声音。苏菲转过头，看到狗人半弯着身缓缓溜进房间，她担心它进来是为了要咬豪尔。便一把抓住它的皮毛。但它只是倚着她的腿，她只好踉跄地在剥落的墙壁后退。
    “这是什么？”豪尔问。
    “我的新狗。”苏菲说，抓着卷毛的手仍不放松。
    她靠到墙上，从这里可以由寝室的窗户外眺。照说外头应该是后院才对，但她看到的却是一座整洁的方形花园，中间有一架小孩的金属秋千，夕阳将垂挂在秋千上的雨滴映照成蓝色及绿色。
    就在苏菲站着看傻眼的时候，豪尔的外甥女玛丽跑过潮湿的草地，豪尔的姐姐梅根追在喉头。显然她在喊着，叫玛莉别坐到湿秋千上面，但是声音透不过来。“那就是叫做威尔斯的地方吗？”苏菲问。
    豪尔大笑。用力拍着被子，灰尘如烟雾般扬起。
    “别管那狗了！”他哑着声音说：“我跟自己打过赌，说你待在这里的期间，我能防止你由那个窗子窥探。”
    “哼……”苏菲放开狗，恨不得它能咬豪尔一口。但是狗只是继续靠着她。将她往门边推。“所以这之前说过的话不过是胡说八道的，都是一场游戏罢了，是不是？”她说：“我早该知道了！”
    豪尔躺回那灰色的枕头，脸上带着被误会的伤心。“有时候，”他语带责备地说：“你说话的语气简直和梅根一样。”
    “有时候，”苏菲回道，一边将狗赶出房间。“我可以了解梅根为何会变成这样。”然后她砰地一声，用力关上门，把蜘蛛、灰尘和花园全都关在身后。
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Chapter 15 In which Howl goes to a funeral in disguise
The dog-man curled up heavily on Sophie’s toes when she went back to her sewing. Perhaps he was hoping she would manage to lift the spell if he stayed close to her. When a big, red-bearded man burst into the room, carrying a box of things, and shed his velvet cloak to become Michael, still carrying a box of things, the man-dog rose up and wagged his tail. He let Michael pat him and rub his ears.
“I hope he stays,” Michael said. “I’ve always wanted a dog.”
Howl heard Michael’s voice. He arrived downstairs wrapped in the brown patchwork cover off his bed. Sophie stopped sewing and took a careful grip on the dog. But the dog was courteous to Howl too. He did not object when Howl fetched a hand out of the coverlet and patted him.
“Well?” Howl croaked, dispersing clouds of dust as he conjured some more tissues.
“I got everything,” said Michael. “And there’s a real piece of luck, Howl. There’s an empty hat shop for sale down in Market Chipping. It used to be a hat shop. Do you think we could move the castle there?”
Howl sat on a tall stool like a robed Roman senator and considered. “It depends on how much it costs,” he said. “I’m tempted to move the Porthaven entrance there. That won’t be easy, because it will mean moving Calcifer. Porthaven is where Calcifer actually is. What do you say, Calcifer?”
“It will take a very careful operation to move me,” Calcifer said. He had become several shades paler at the thought. “I think you should leave me where I am.”
So Fanny is selling the shop, Sophie thought as the other three went on discussing the move. And so much for the conscience Howl said he had! But the main thing on her mind was the puzzling behavior of the dog. In spite of Sophie telling him many times that she could not take the spell of him, he did not seem to want to leave. He did not want to bite Howl. He let Michael take him for a run on the Porthaven Marshes that night and the following morning. His aim seemed to be to become part of the household.
“Though if I were you, I’d be in Upper Folding making sure to catch Lettie on the rebound,” Sophie told him.
Howl was in and out of bed all the next day. When he was in bed, Michael had to tear up and down the stairs. When he was up, Michael had to race about, measuring the castle with him and fixing metal brackets to every single corner. In between, Howl kept appearing, robed in his quilt and clouds of dust, to ask questions and make announcements, mostly for Sophie’s benefit.
“Sophie, since you whitewashed over all the marks we made when we invented the castle, perhaps you can tell me where the marks in Michael’s room were?”
“No,” said Sophie, sewing her seventieth blue triangle. “I can’t.”
Howl sneezed sadly and retired. Shortly, he emerged again. “Sophie, if we were to take that hat shop, what would we sell?”
Sophie found she had had enough of hats to last a lifetime. “Not hats,” she said. “You can buy the shop, but not the business, you know.”
“Apply your fiendish mind to the matter,” said Howl. “Or even think, if you know how.” And he marched away upstairs again.

  Five minutes later, down he came again. “Sophie, have you any preferences about the other entrances? Where would you like us to live?”
Sophie instantly found her mind going to Mrs. Fairfax’s house. “I’d like a nice house with lots of flowers,” she said.
“I see,” croaked Howl, and marched away again.
Next time he reappeared, he was dressed. That made three times that day, and Sophie thought nothing of it until Howl put on the velvet cloak Michael had used and became a pale, coughing, red-bearded man with a large red handkerchief held to his nose. She realized Howl was going out then. “You’ll make your cold worse,” she said.
“I shall die and then you’ll all be sorry,” the red-bearded man said, and went out through the door with the knob green-down.
For an hour after that, Michael had time to work on his spell. Sophie got as far as her eighty-fourth blue triangle. Then the red-bearded man was back again. He shed the velvet cloak and became Howl, coughing harder than before and, if that was possible, more sorry for himself than ever.
“I took the shop,” he told Michael. “It’s got a useful shed at the back and a house at the side, and I took the lot. I’m not sure what I shall pay for it all with, though.”
“What about the money you get if you find Prince Justin?” Michael asked.
“You forget,” croaked Howl, “the whole object of this operation is not to look for Prince Justin. We are going to vanish.” And he went coughing upstairs to bed, where he shortly began shaking the beams sneezing for attention again.
Michael had to leave the spell and rush upstairs. Sophie might have gone, except the dog-man got in the way when she tried. This was another part of his odd behavior. He did not like Sophie to do anything for Howl. Sophie felt this was fairly reasonable. She began on her eighty-fifth triangle.
Michael came cheerfully down and worked on his spell. He was so happy that he was joining in Calcifer’s saucepan song and chatting to the skull just as Sophie did, wile he worked. “We’re going to live in Market Chipping,” he told the skull. “”I can go and see my Lettie every day.”
“Is that why you told Howl about the shop?” Sophie asked, threading her needle. By this time she was on her eighty-ninth triangle.
“Yes,” Michael said happily. “Lettie told me about it when we were wondering how we’d ever see one another again. I told her-”
He was interrupted by Howl, trailing downstairs in his quilt again. “This is positively my last appearance,” Howl croaked. “I forgot to say that Mrs. Pentstemmon is being buried tomorrow on her estate near Porthaven and I shall need this suit cleaned.” He brought the gray-and-scarlet suit out from inside his coverlet and dropped it on Sophie’s lap. “You’re attending to the wrong suit,” he told Sophie. “This is the one I like, but I haven’t the energy to clean it myself.”
“You don’t need to go to the funeral, do you?” Michael said anxiously.
“I wouldn’t dream of staying away,” said Howl. “Mrs. Pentstemmon made me the wizard I am. I have to pay my respects.”

  “But your cold’s worse,” said Michael.
“He’s made it worse,” said Sophie, ‘by getting up and chasing around.”
Howl at once put on his noblest expression. “I’ll be all right,” he croaked, “as long as I keep out of the sea wind. It’s a bitter place, the Pentstemmon estate. The trees are all bent sideways and there’s no shelter for miles.”
Sophie knew he was just playing for sympathy. She snorted.
“And what about the Witch?” Michael asked.
Howl coughed piteously. “I shall go in disguise, probably as another corpse,” he said, trailing back toward the stairs.
“Then you need a winding sheet and not this suit,” Sophie called after him. Howl trailed away upstairs without answering and Sophie did not protest. She now had the charmed suit in her hands and it was too good a chance to miss. She took up her scissors and hacked the gray-and-scarlet suit into seven jagged pieces. That ought to discourage Howl from wearing it. Then she got to work on the last triangles of the blue-and-silver suit, mostly little fragments from round the neck. It was now very small indeed. It looked as if might be a size too small even for Mrs. Pentstemmon’s page boy.
“Michael,” she said. “Hurry up with that spell. It’s urgent.”
“I won’t be long now,” Michael said.
Half an hour later he checked things off on his list and said he thought he was ready. He came over to Sophie carrying a tiny bowl with a very small amount of green powder in the bottom. “Where do you want it?”
“Here,” said Sophie, snipping the last threads. She pushed the sleeping dog-man aside and laid the child-sized suit carefully on the floor. Michael, quite as carefully, tipped the bowl and sprinkled powder on every inch of it.
Then they both waited, rather anxiously.
A moment passed. Michael sighed with relief. The suit was gently spreading out larger. They watched it spread, and spread, until one side of it piled up against the dog-man and Sophie had to pull it further away to give it room.
After about five minutes they both agreed that the suit looked Howl’s size again. Michael gathered it up and carefully shook the excess powder off into the grate. Calcifer flared and snarled. The dog-man jumped in his sleep.
“Watch it!” said Calcifer. “That was strong.”
Sophie took the suit and hobbled upstairs n tiptoe with it. Howl was asleep on his gray pillows, with his spiders busily making new webs around him. He looked noble and sad in his sleep. Sophie hobbled round to put the blue-and-silver suit on the old chest by the window, trying to tell herself that the suit had got no larger since she picked it up. “Still, if it stops you going to the funeral, that’s no loss,” she murmured as she took a look out of the window.
The sun was low across the neat garden. A large, dark man was out there, enthusiastically throwing a red ball towards Howl’s nephew, Neil, who was standing with a look of patient suffering, holding a bat. Sophie could see the man was Neil’s father.
“Snooping again,” Howl said suddenly behind her. Sophie swung round guiltily, to find that Howl was only half awake really. He may have even thought it was the day before, because he said, “ ‘Teach me to keep off envy’s stinging’-that’s all part of past years now. I love Wales, but it doesn’t love me. Megan’s full of envy because she’s respectable and I’m not.” Then he woke up a little more and asked, “What are you doing?”
  “Just putting out your suit for you,” Sophie said, and hobbled hastily away.
Howl must have gone back to sleep. He did not emerge again that night. There was no sign of him stirring when Sophie and Michael got up next morning. They were careful not to disturb him. Neither of them felt that going to Mrs. Pentstemmon’s funeral was a good idea. Michael crept out onto the hills to take the dog-man for a run. Sophie tiptoed about, getting breakfast, hoping Howl would oversleep. There was still no sign of Howl when Michael came back. The dog-man was starving hungry. Sophie and Michael were hunting in the closet for things a dog could eat when they heard Howl coming slowly down the stairs.
“Sophie,” Howl’s voice said accusingly.
He was standing holding the door to the stair open with an arm that was entirely hidden in an immense blue-and-silver sleeve. His feet, on the bottom stair, were standing inside the top half of a gigantic blue-and-silver jacket. Howl’s other arm did not come anywhere near the other huge sleeve. Sophie could see that arm in outline. Making bulging gestures under a vast frill collar. Behind Howl, the stairs were full of blue-and-silver suit trailing back all the way to his bedroom.
“Oh, dear!” said Michael. “Howl, it was my fault !-”
“Your fault? Garbage!” said Howl. “I can detect Sophie’s hand a mile off. And there are several miles of this suit. Sophie dear, where is my other suit?”
Sophie hurriedly fetched the pieces of gray-and-scarlet suit out of the broom cupboard, where she had hidden them.
Howl surveyed them. “Well, that’s something,” he said. “I’d been expecting it to be too small to see. Give it here, all seven of it.”
Sophie held the bundle of gray-and-scarlet cloth out toward him. Howl, with a bit of searching, succeeded in finding his hand inside the multiple folds of blue-and-silver sleeve and working it through a gap between two tremendous stitches. He grabbed the bundle off her. “I am now,” he said, “going to get ready for the funeral. Please, both of you, refrain from doing anything whatsoever while I do. I can tell Sophie is in top form at the moment, and I want this room the usual size when I come back into it.”
He set off with dignity to the bathroom, wading in blue-and-silver suit. The rest of the blue-and-silver suit followed him, dragging step by step down the stairs and rustling across the floor. By the time Howl was in the bathroom, most of the jacket was on the ground floor and the trousers were appearing on the stairs. Howl half-shut the bathroom door and seemed to go on hauling the suit in hand over hand. Sophie and Michael and the dog-man stood and watched yard after yard of blue or silver fabric proceed across the floor, decorated with an occasional silver button the size of a millstone and enormous, regular, ropelike stitches. There may have been nearly a mile of it.
“I don’t think I got that spell quite right,” Michael said when the last huge scalloped edge had disappeared round the bathroom door.
“And didn’t he let you know it!” said Calcifer. “Another log, please.”

  Michael gave Calcifer another log. Sophie fed the dog-man. But neither of them dared do anything much else except stand around eating bread and honey for breakfast until Howl came out of the bathroom.
He came forth two hours later, out of a steam of verbena-scented spells. He was all in black. His suit was black, his boots were black, and his hair was black, the same blue-raven black as Miss Angorian’s. His earring was a long jet pendant. Sophie wondered if the black hair was in honor of Mrs. Pentstemmon. She agreed with Mrs. Pentstemmon that black hair suited Howl. His green-glass eyes went better with it. But she wondered very much which suit the black one really was.
Howl conjured himself a black tissue and blew his nose on it. The window rattled. He picked up one of the slices of bread and honey from the bench and beckoned the dog-man. The dog-man looked dubious. “I only want you where I can look at you,” Howl croaked. His cold was still bad. “Come here, pooch.” As the dog crawled reluctantly into the middle of the room, Howl added, “You won’t find my other suit in the bathroom, Mrs. Snoop. You’re not getting your hands on any of my clothes again.”
Sophie stopped tiptoeing toward the bathroom and watched Howl walk round the dog-man, eating bread and honey and blowing his nose by turns.
“What do you think of this as a disguise?” he said. He flicked the black tissue at Calcifer and started to fall forward onto hands and knees. Almost as he started to move, he was gone. By the time he touched the floor, he was a curly red setter, just like the dog-man.
The dog-man was taken completely by surprise and his instincts got the better of him. His hackles came up, his ears lowered, and he growled. Howl played up-or else he felt the same. The two identical dogs walked round one another, glaring, growling, bristling, and getting ready to fight.
Sophie caught the tail of the one she thought was the dog-man. Michael grabbed for the one he thought was Howl. Howl rather hastily turned himself back. Sophie found a tall black person standing in front of her and let go of the back of Howl’s jacket. The dog-man sat down on Michael’s feet, staring tragically.
“Good,” said Howl. “If I can deceive another dog, I can fool everyone else. No one at the funeral is going to notice a stray dog lifting its leg against the gravestones.” He went to the door and turned the knob blue-down.
“Wait a moment,” said Sophie. “If you’re going to the funeral as a red setter, why take all the trouble of getting yourself up in black?”
Howl lifted his chin and looked noble. “Respect to Mrs. Pentstemmon,” he said, opening the door. ‘She liked one to think of all the details.” He went into the street of Porthaven.  
  
    第15章变装参加葬礼
    苏菲回去继续缝纫时，狗人蜷曲着身体躺着，就压在苏菲的脚指头上。或许它希望，若能就近待在她身边，她就能想出办法帮它解除咒语吧！一个粗壮、红胡子的男人冲进屋里，手中那着盒子。他脱掉披肩变回麦可，手里仍拿着盒子。狗人站起来摇尾，它让麦可拍它的头并揉它的耳朵。
    “我希望它留下来，”麦可说：“我一直想要一只狗。”
    豪尔听到麦可的声音，便裹着那件褐色的拼布被单走下楼来。苏菲停止缝纫，小心地抓住狗，但是狗对豪尔挺客气的，当豪尔由被单里伸出一只手来拍它时，它并没有抗议。
    “怎么样？”豪尔哑着声问，同时由空中取一些纸巾，被单上的灰尘随之飞扬。
    “全买齐了。”麦可说：“而且，运气还出奇的好。马克奇平正好有间商店要出售，以前是开帽店的。你想我们能不能把城堡搬过去？”
    豪尔坐在一把高凳子上，活象穿着袍服的罗马议员，他思考着。“看要价多少再决定吧。我很想把避难港的入口移到那里。这工作可不太容易，因为必须连卡西法一起搬，避难港是卡西法真正住着的地方。你怎么说，卡西法？”
    “要搬动我的话，必须非常小心，”卡西法说，它的脸色苍白了好几个色度。“我觉得你应该把我留在原处。”
    芬妮要把店卖掉？当他们三人继续讨论搬家事宜时，苏菲想着。而豪尔所谓的良心亦不过而而。但是最令她感到困惑的，是这只狗的行为。虽然苏菲跟它说过许多次，她无法帮它解除咒语，它还是无意离开。它也不想咬豪尔。当晚以及次日早晨，它都让麦可带它去避难港的沼泽地跑步，它的目的似乎在成为这个家族的成员之一。
    “如果我是你的话，我就回上福尔丁，确定乐蒂由打击中恢复过来时，赢得她的芳心。”苏菲跟它这么说。
    第二天，豪尔一会起身，一会躺着。当他躺下时，麦可就忙着楼上楼下两头跑。当他起床时，麦可则四处跑，跟着他丈量城堡并且用金属托架固定每一个角落。
    在空挡期间，豪尔老是裹在他的拼布被单和灰尘中跑来问问题或宣布一些事情，大都是为苏菲的利益着想。
    “苏菲，既然你把我们发明这座城堡时的记录全漆掉了，也许你可以告诉我，麦可房里的记号是在什么地方？”
    “不，”苏菲边缝着第七十个蓝色三角形边说：“我不行。”
    豪尔悲伤地打着喷嚏离去，过一会他又出现。“苏菲，如果我们买下那家店面，我们可以卖什么？”
    苏菲发现她已经受够了帽子，这辈子都不想再碰这个行业。“不要卖帽子。”她说：“你知道吧？你可以只买店面，不作生意的。”
    “这件事就交给你那残忍的脑袋瓜去处理，”豪尔说：“或者思考了。如果你知道思考是怎么一回事的话。”说完他又大踏步上楼去了。
    五分钟后，他又下来。“苏菲，关于另一个入口，你有什么特别喜好没有？你希望我们住哪里？”
    苏菲马上想到菲菲克丝太太的房子。“我想要有个很好的房子，房子四周种满了花。”她回答道。
    “知道了。”豪尔哑声说，再度大踏步离开。
    等他再度出现时，他已穿着整齐。那天这已是第三次了，因此苏菲起先不以为意。但是接着，他却披上麦可曾穿过的那件丝绒斗篷，变成一个苍白、咳嗽着的红胡子，手里拿着一块红色的大手帕正在擦鼻子。她这才知道他打算要出门，忍不住说：“这样感冒会恶化的。”
    “我会死掉，然后你们每个人都会觉得很抱歉。”红胡子男人说。然后将门把转到绿色向下，出门去了。
    接下来的一小时，麦可有时间弄他的符咒，苏菲则一直缝到第八十个蓝色三角形。然后，红胡子男人回来了。脱下斗篷，又变回豪尔，咳得比未出门前严重，而且，还真服了他了！居然可以比以前还自怜。
    “我把店买下来了。”他跟麦可说：“它后面有个有用的小房间，旁边还有一栋住家，我整个都买下来了。不过我还不知道到时钱要从哪里来。”
    “如果你找到贾斯丁王子，那个奖金不就可以用了？”麦可说。
    “你忘了。”豪尔沙哑地说：“我们做这些的目的，就是为了不去找贾斯丁王子。我们要凭空消失！”说完他就咳着上楼、上床，然后过不了多久，就开始为了引人注意而大声打喷嚏，弄得屋梁都震动起来。
    麦可只好赶快放下咒语跑上楼，苏菲本来也要去的，但是狗人把她挡住，这是它另一个奇怪的行为。它不喜欢苏菲为豪尔做任何事，苏菲觉得这很合理，于是坐下来缝第八十五个三角形。
    麦可高高兴兴地下楼，又开始弄他的咒语。因为非常高兴，他边工作边加入卡西法的炖锅歌，并且学着苏菲跟骷髅说话。“我们要搬去马克奇平了，”他跟骷髅说：“我可以每天都去看我的小乐蒂了。”
    “这是你跟豪尔提那间店的原因吗？”苏菲穿着针问道。现在她已缝到第八十九个三角形。
    “是的，”麦可快乐地说：“我们正在讨论以后如何才能再见时，乐蒂跟我说的。我就告诉她……”
    他的话被豪尔打断，豪尔身上仍披着那件拼布被单。“这肯定是我最后一次下来，”他说：“我忘了告诉你们，潘思德曼太太明天下葬，地点就在她靠近避难港的私人土地。我这件衣服需要清洗。”他把灰色及暗红色的衣服由被单里拿出来，丢在苏菲腿上。“你把时间花错对象了。我喜欢的是这一件，但是我没有力气自己清洗。”
    “你不一定要去参加葬礼吧？”麦可紧张地问。
    “我是绝对会去的，”豪尔说：“潘思德曼太太把我造就成这样的巫师，我一定得去跟她致敬。”
    “但是你的感冒又加重了。”麦可说。
    “是他自找的！”苏菲说：“不在床上躺着，还出去追女生。”
    豪尔马上装出最高尚、无辜的表情。“我会没事的。”他哑声说：“只要记得避开海风就好了。潘思德曼那片地产位于受风地带。树全被吹得歪一边长，连绵几哩都没有避风雨的地方。”
    苏菲知道他不过是故意要人同情罢了，由鼻子里哼了一声。
    “那女巫呢？”麦可问。
    豪尔可怜兮兮地咳嗽：“我会变装再去，也许装成另一具尸体。”说完，他又拖着脚步往楼梯去。
    “那你根本不需要这件衣服！你需要的是裹尸布。”苏菲在他身后叫道。豪尔没有回答，继续拖着脚步往楼上走，苏菲也没有再抗议。她手里抓着那件有迷咒的衣服，真是机不可失！她拿起剪刀，一口气将这件灰、红色的衣服剪成七块，这下子，豪尔就不会再想要穿它了。然后她回头把最后几个三角形缝到银、蓝色衣服上，这些都是领口的部分。衣服现在变得好小，就是给潘思德曼太太的侍童穿，都嫌小一个尺码。
    “麦可，”她唤道：“你那个咒语弄快一点！事情紧急！”
    半小时后，麦可逐一检查单子上的项目，然后说应该是准备好了。他对着苏菲走过来，手里拿着一个小碗，碗底有很少量的绿色粉末。“你要用在哪里？”
    “这里。”苏菲剪断最后一根线，将睡着的狗人推到一边，然后将那件只剩儿童尺码的衣服小心地搁在地上。麦可同样小心地将碗倾斜，在衣服的每一寸撒上绿粉。
    然后两个人一起焦虑地等着。
    过一会儿，麦可轻松地叹了口气，衣服慢慢变大了。他们看着它变大、变大，直到一边顶着狗人，堆在那儿。苏菲必须将它拉远一些，让它有空间长大。
    大约五分钟后，两个人都同意衣服看来已是豪尔的尺寸。麦可将它拿起来，小心地将多余的粉抖落到炉架上，卡西法轰一下窜起来吼叫，狗人也由睡眠中惊醒，跳起来。
    “小心点！”卡西法说：“那威力蛮强的。”
    苏菲拿着这件衣服蹑手蹑脚地走上楼去，豪尔头靠在灰色枕头上睡着，他的蜘蛛们在他四周忙碌地结网。在睡眠中，他看来高尚而悲伤。苏菲走过去，将衣服放在靠窗的旧衣柜上头。她试着告诉自己，就这一会儿功夫，衣服并没有继续长大。“不过，如果它害你不能去参加葬礼的话，也没什么不好。”她喃喃说着，同时往窗外看去。
    太阳低低垂挂在那整洁的花园上头。一个高大、深色皮肤的男子站在那儿，兴冲冲地投掷一颗红色的球给豪尔的外甥尼尔，尼尔脸上写着痛苦的忍耐。苏菲看得出那人是尼尔的父亲。
    “又在多管闲事了。”豪尔突然在她后面说话。苏菲带着罪恶感快速地转过身来，却发现豪尔其实处在半睡半醒状态。他的思绪仍停留在前天，因为他说：“教我免叫嫉妒刺伤的方法，那都已经是过去的事了。我爱威尔斯，但威尔斯不爱我。梅根就是充满了嫉妒，因为她受人尊敬，而我不是。”然后他稍稍再清醒些，问道：“你在干吗？”
    “不过是替你把衣服拿过来。”苏菲说完，就匆忙离开。
    豪尔一定又睡着了。当晚没再下楼。次日早晨，当苏菲和麦可起来后，也没听到他起床的声音。两人都小心避免吵到他，也都觉得去参加潘思德曼太太的葬礼不是个好主意。麦可悄悄溜出去，带狗人去山丘跑步。苏菲在家里踮着脚尖走路，准备早餐，心里希望豪尔会睡过头。麦可回来时仍然不见豪尔的踪影，狗人很饿了，苏菲和麦可在柜子里忙着找可以给狗吃的东西。就在这时，他们听到豪尔慢慢走下楼梯的声音。
    “苏菲！”豪尔的声音透着责难。
    楼梯的门开着，豪尔一手扶着那门，整只手都藏在一个巨大无比的蓝、银色袖子里。他的脚在楼梯的底阶，被套在一件居然无比的蓝、银色上衣的上半部里。另一只手则离另一只巨大的袖子十分遥远。苏菲可以看到那只手的轮廓，在一个很大的，有皱褶的领子下鼓动着做手势。他身后的楼梯则盖满蓝、银色的套装。一路拖拽到他的卧室里面。
    “天哪！”麦可说：“豪尔，这都是我的错，我……”
    “你的错？骗人！”豪尔说：“我一哩之外就可以感知到苏菲的手，这件衣服可是有好几哩长的。亲爱的苏菲，我另一件衣服在哪里？”
    苏菲赶紧将那件被她藏在储物柜里的灰色及暗红色的外衣拿出来。
    豪尔打量之后说：“真有你的！我还以为会变得小到看不见呢。给我！七片全拿过来！”
    苏菲手上捧着布块，把手对他伸直。豪尔的手在那件蓝银色衣服的巨大袖子里好一阵摸索，再由两针缝线间隙中挣脱出来，将布块由苏菲手中一把抢过。“现在，我，”他说：“要准备出门参加葬礼了。拜托你们两位，在这个期间什么都别做。我看得出苏菲现在正处于颠峰状态，不过我下来的时候，希望看到这个房间仍是原来的大小。”
    他转过身，神气十足地往浴室走，跋涉在蓝色及银色的外衣中。剩下的衣服跟着他走，一步步拖下楼梯，然后是沙沙地拖过地板。等豪尔进入浴室时，大部分的外套都到了地板，裤子则才刚出现在楼梯上。豪尔将浴室的门半开着，然后，似乎是以两手轮流拉动衣服。苏菲、麦可和狗人站着，看到一码又一码的蓝银色布料在地板上行进，偶尔有大如磨石的的纽扣及巨大、规则、粗如绳索的逢线点缀其中，怕不绵延有一哩长！
    当最后一个扇形饰边终于在浴室门的转角消失时，麦可说：“我想，我那个咒语大概没完全弄对。”
    “他着不就让你知道了吗？”卡西法说：“再给我一根木头。”
    麦可给卡西法加了一根木头，苏菲去喂狗人，两个人在豪尔走出浴室前，除了站着吃面包加蜂蜜当早餐之外，什么都不敢做。
    两小时后，豪尔由充满马鞭草香味的蒸汽中现身，全身黑色：黑色套装、黑色靴子，甚至连头发都是黑的，像安歌丽雅小姐那种蓝黑色。还有，长长的耳环也是黑的。苏菲猜想他那头黑发是为了对潘思德曼太太致敬才改的。她同意潘思德曼太太所说——黑发比较适合豪尔。他绿色玻璃珠似的眼睛跟黑发比较搭配，不过她不确定那套黑衣服到底是由哪一套变来的。
    豪尔由空中抓过一张黑色纸巾擤鼻涕，令窗子嘎嘎作响。他由工作台上拿起一片沾有蜂蜜的面包，叫唤那只狗人。狗人露出怀疑的眼光。“我只是要好好看看你，”豪尔哑声说，他的感冒还是很严重。“来这儿，狗狗。”狗迟疑地爬到房间中间时，豪尔说：“长鼻子太太，你在浴室里找不到我另一套衣服的，以后我再也不要你碰我任何衣服。”
    本来往浴室蹑手蹑脚走去的苏菲，闻言停下来，看豪尔绕着狗走，一会儿吃沾蜂蜜的面包，一会儿擤鼻涕。
    “拿这个当伪装怎么样？”说完，豪尔就将黑色纸巾弹给卡西法，然后向前趴，双手及膝盖往地板上搭。他才一开始动，人就不见了，等他碰到地板时，已经变成一只有红色卷毛的雪达猎犬了。
    狗人委实大吃一惊！处于狗的本能反应，它毛发倒竖，耳朵下垂，开始咆哮。豪尔也有样学样——或者同样出于本能？两只长得一模一样的狗互相对绕、瞪眼、咆哮、毛发耸立，大战随时一触即发。
    苏菲抓住其中一只她觉得应该是狗人的尾巴，麦可则抓住可能是豪尔的那一只。豪尔很快变回人形，苏菲发现她跟前站着一个高大、一身黑的男人，赶紧将豪尔黑外套的后头放开。狗人则坐在麦可脚上，悲惨地看着。
    “很好，”豪尔说：“如果我骗得过别的狗，就可以骗过任何人。葬礼上不会有人注意到一直流浪狗举脚靠在墓碑上的。”他走到门口，将门把转到蓝色向下。
    “等等，”苏菲唤住他：“如果你要伪装成红色雪达犬去参加葬礼的话，干吗还大费周章打扮得一身黑？”
    豪尔抬起下巴，一副很高贵的样子。“这是对潘思德曼太太的敬意。”边说边开门：“她喜欢人们考虑到所有的细节。”说完就踏上避难港的街道。
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Chapter 16 In which there is a great deal of witchcraft
Several hours passed. The dog-man was hungry again. Michael and Sophie decided to have lunch too. Sophie approached Calcifer with the frying pan.
“Why can’t you have bread and cheese for once?” Calcifer grumbled.
All the same, he bent his head. Sophie was just putting the pan on top of the curly green flames when Howl’s voice rang out hoarsely from nowhere.
“Brace yourself, Calcifer! She’s found me!”
Calcifer sprang upright. The frying pan fell across Sophie’s knees. “You’ll have to wait!” Calcifer roared, flaming blindingly up the chimney. Almost at once he blurred into a dozen or so burning blue faces, as if he was being shaken violently about, and burned with a loud, throaty whirring.
“That must mean they’re fighting,” Michael whispered.
Sophie sucked a slightly burned finger and picked slices of bacon off her skirt with the other hand, staring at Calcifer. He was whipping from side to side of the fireplace. His blurred faces pulsed from deep blue to sky blue and then almost to white. One moment he had multiple orange eyes, and the next, rows of starry silver ones. She had never imagined anything like it.
Something swept overhead with a blast and a boom which shook everything in the room. A second something followed, with a long, shrill roar. Calcifer pulsed nearly blue-black, and Sophie’s skin fizzed with the backblast from the magic.
Michael scrambled for the window. “They’re quite near!”
Sophie hobbled to the window to. The storm of magic seemed to have affected half the things in the room. The skull was yattering its jaw so hard that it was traveling round in circles. Packets were jumping. Powder was seething in jars. A book dropped heavily out of the shelves and lay open on the floor, fanning its pages back and forth. At one end of the room, the scented steam boiled out of the bathroom: at the other, Howl’s guitar made out-of-tune twangings. And Calcifer whipped about harder than ever.
Michael put the skull in the sink to stop it from yattering itself onto the floor while he opened the window and craned out. Whatever was happening was maddeningly just out of sight. People in the houses opposite were at doors and windows, pointing to something more or less overhead. Sophie and Michael ran to the broom cupboard, where they seized a velvet cloak each and flung them on. Sophie got the one that turned its wearer into a red-bearded man. Now she knew why Calcifer had laughed at her in the other one. Michael was a horse. But there was no time to laugh just then. Sophie dragged the door open and sped into the street, followed by the dog-man, who seemed surprisingly calm about the whole thing. Michael trotted out after her with a clatter of non-existent hooves, leaving Calcifer whipping from blue to white behind them.
The street was full of people looking upward. No one had time to notice things like horses coming out of houses. Sophie and Michael looked too, and found a huge cloud boiling and twisting just above the chimney tops. It was black and rotating on itself violently. White flashes that were not quite like light stabbed through the murk of it. But almost as soon as Michael and Sophie arrived, the clot of magic took on the shape of a misty bundle of fighting snakes. Then it tore in two with a noise like an enormous cat fight. One part sped yowling across the roofs and out to sea, and the second went screaming after it.

  Some people retreated indoors then. Sophie and Michael joined the rush of braver people down the sloping lanes to the dockside. There everyone seemed to think the best view was to be had along the curve of the harbor wall. Sophie hobbled to get out along it too, but there was no need to go beyond the shelter of the harbor master’s hut. Two clouds were hanging in the air, some way out to sea, on the other side of the harbor wall, the only two clouds in the calm blue sky. It was quite easy to see them. I was equally easy to see the dark patch of storm raging on the sea between the clouds, flinging up great, white-topped waves. There was an unfortunate ship caught in that storm. Its masts were beating back and forth. They could see spouts of water hitting it on all sides. The crew were desperately trying to take in the sails, but one at least had torn to flying gray rags.
“Can’t they have a care for that ship!” someone said indignantly.
Then the wind and the waves from the storm hit the harbor wall. White water lashed over and the brave persons out on the wall came crowding hurriedly back to the quayside, where the moored ships were heaving and grinding in their moorings. Among all this was a great deal of screaming in high, singing voices. Sophie put her face out into the wind beyond the hut, where the screaming came from, and discovered that the raging magic had disturbed more than the sea and the wretched ship. A number of wet, slithery-looking ladies with flying green-brown hair were dragging themselves up onto the harbor wall, screaming and holding long wet arms out to more screaming ladies tossing in the waves. Every one of them had a fishtail instead of legs.
“Confound it!” said Sophie. “The mermaids from the curse!” that meant only two more impossible things to come true now.
She looked up at the two clouds. Howl was kneeling on the lefthand one, much larger and nearer than she would have expected. He was still dressed in black. Typically enough, he was staring over his shoulder at the frantic mermaids. He was not looking at them as if he remembered they were part of the curse at all.
“Keep your mind on the Witch!” the horse beside Sophie yelled.
The Witch sprang into being, standing on the righthand cloud, in a whirl of flame-colored robe and streaming red hair, with her arms raised to invoke further magic. As Howl turned and looked at her, her arms came down. Howl’s cloud erupted into a fountain of rose-colored flame. Heat from it swept across the harbor, and the stones of the wall steamed.
“It’s all right!” gasped the horse.
Howl was on the tossing, nearly sinking ship below. He was a tiny black figure, leaning against the bucking mainmast. He let the Witch know she had missed by waving at her cheekily. The Witch saw him the instant he waved. Cloud, Witch, and all at once became a savagely swooping red bird, diving at the ship.
The ship vanished. The mermaids sang a doleful scream. There was nothing but sulkily tossing water where the ship had been. But the huge diving bird was going too fast to stop. It plunged into the sea with a huge splash.

  Everyone on the quayside cheered. “I knew that wasn’t a real ship really!” someone behind Sophie said.
“Yes, it must have been an illusion,” the horse said wisely. “It was too small.”
As proof that the ship had been much nearer than it looked, the waves from the splash reached the harbor wall before Michael had stopped speaking. A twenty-foot green hill of water rode smoothly sideways across it, sweeping the screaming mermaids into the harbor, rolling every moored ship violently sideways, and thudding in swirls round the harbor master’s hut. An arm came out of the side of the horse and hauled Sophie back toward the quay. Sophie gasped and stumbled in knee-high gray water. The dog-man bounded beside them, soaked to the ears.
They had just reached the quay, and the boats in the harbor had all just rolled upright, when a second mountain of water rolled over the harbor wall. Out of its smooth side burst a monster. It was a long, black, clawed thing, half cat, half sea lion, and it came racing down the wall toward the quay. Another burst out of the wave as it smashed into the harbor, long and low too, but scalier, and came racing after the first monster.
Everyone realized that the fight was not over yet and splashed backward hurriedly against the sheds and houses on the quayside. Sophie fell over a rope and then a doorstep. The arm came out of the horse and dragged her upright as the two monsters streaked past in a scatter of salt water. Another wave swirled over the harbor wall, and two more monsters burst out of that. They were identical to the first two, except the scaly one was closer to the catlike one. And the next rolling wave brought two more, closer together yet.
“What’s going on?” Sophie squawked as this third pair raced past, shaking the stones of the jetty as they ran.
“Illusions,” Michael’s voice came out of the horse. “Some of them. They’re both trying to fool one another into chasing the wrong one.”
“Which is who?” said Sophie.
“No idea,” said the horse.
Some of the onlookers found the monsters too terrifying. Many went home. Others jumped down into the rolling ships to fend them off from the quay. Sophie and Michael joined the hard core of watchers who set off through the streets of Porthaven after the monsters. First they followed a river of sea water, then huge, wet paw prints, and finally white gouges and scratches where the claws of the creatures had dug into the stones of the street. These led everyone out the back of the town to the marshes where Sophie and Michael had chased the shooting star.
By this time all six creatures were bounding black dots, vanishing into the flat distance. The crowd spread out into a ragged line on the bank, staring, hoping for more, and afraid of what they might see. After a while no one could see anything but empty marsh. Nothing happened. Quite a few people were turning away to leave when of course everyone else shouted, “Look!” A ball of pale fire rolled lazily up in the distance. It must have been enormous. The bang that went with hit only reached the watchers when the fireball had become a spreading tower of smoke. The line of people all winced at the blunt thunder of it. They watched the smoke spread until it became part of the mist on the marshes. They went on watching after that. But there was simply peace and silence. The wind rattled the marsh weeds, and birds began to dare to cry again.

  “I reckon they must have done for one another,” people said. The crowd gradually split into separate figures hurrying away to jobs they left half done.
Sophie and Michael waited until the very last, when it was clear that it was indeed all over. Then they turned slowly back into Porthaven. Neither of them felt like speaking. Only the dog-man seemed happy. He sauntered beside them so friskily that Sophie was sure he thought Howl was done for. He was so pleased with life that when they turned into the street where Howl’s house was and there happened to be a stray cat crossing the road, the dog-man uttered a joyful bark and galloped after it. He chased it with a dash and a skitter straight to the castle doorstep, where it turned and glared.
“Geroff!” it mewed. “This is all I needed!”
The dog backed away, looking ashamed.
Michael clattered up to the door. “Howl!” he shouted.
The cat shrank to kitten size and looked very sorry for itself. “And you both look ridiculous!” it said. “Open the door. I’m exhausted.”
Sophie opened the door and the cat crawled inside. The cat crawled to the hearth, where Calcifer was down to the merest blue flicker, and, with an effort, got its front paws up onto the chair seat. There it grew rather slowly into Howl, bent double.
“Did you kill the Witch?” Michael asked eagerly, taking off his cloak and becoming himself too.
“No,” said Howl. He turned round and flopped into the chair, where he lay looking very tired indeed. “All that on top of a cold!” he croaked. “Sophie, for pity’s sake take off that horrible red beard and find the bottle of brandy in the closet-unless you’ve drunk it or turned it into turpentine, of course.”
Sophie took off her cloak and found the brandy and a glass. Howl drank one glass off as if it were water. Then he poured out a second glass, and instead of drinking it, he dripped it carefully on Calcifer. Calcifer flared and sizzled and seemed to revive a little. Howl poured a third glass and lay back sipping it. “Don’t stand staring at me!” he said. “I don’t know who won. The Witch is mighty hard to come at. She relies mostly on her fire demon and stays behind out of trouble. But I think we gave her something to think about, eh, Calcifer?”
“It’s old,” Calcifer said in a weak fizzle from under his logs. “I’m stronger, but it knows things I never thought of. She’s had it a hundred years. And it’s half killed me!” He fizzled a bit, then climbed further out of his logs to grumble, “You might have warned me!”
“I did, you old fraud!” Howl said wearily. “You know everything I know.”
Howl lay sipping brandy while Michael found bread and sausage for them to eat. Food revived them all, except perhaps the dog-man, who seemed subdued now Howl was back after all. Calcifer began to burn up and look his usual blue self.
“This won’t do!” Howl said. He hauled himself to his feet. “Look sharp, Michael. The Witch knows we’re in Porthaven. We’re not only going to have to move the castle and the Kingsbury entrance now. I shall have to transfer Calcifer to the house that goes with that hat shop.”
“Move me?” Calcifer crackled. He was azure with apprehension.
“That’s right,” said Howl. “You have a choice between Market Chipping or the Witch. Don’t go and be difficult.”
“Curses!” wailed Calcifer and dived to the bottom of the grate.  
  
    第16章众多的魔法
    数个小时过去，狗人肚子又饿了，麦可跟苏菲也决定要吃午餐了，苏菲拿着煎锅走近卡西法。
    “为何不能有一次只吃面包和乳酪呢？”卡西法抱怨道。
    说归说，它还是把头低下。苏菲刚把锅子放到卷曲的绿焰上头，不知由哪儿突然传来豪尔沙哑的声音：“卡西法，当心！她找到我了！”
    卡西法一下跳起来，煎锅跌出来，掉在苏菲膝上。卡西法吼着，以令人目盲的狂焰冲上烟囱。几乎同时，它幻化为十几个然后的蓝脸，好象它被人猛烈晃动一样，并且发出巨大的、有喉音的呼呼声。
    “他们一定是打起来了，”麦可小声说。
    苏菲吮着略略烫到的手指，以另一只手由裙上拣起一片片的熏肉，同时注视着卡西法。它在壁炉里左右晃动，影象模糊的脸由深蓝转为浅蓝，然后几近白色，一会儿有多橘色眼睛，下一刻又变成成排似的白色眼睛。她从未想过会有这样的事。
    有东西由屋顶上掠过发出爆炸声，震动了整个房间。下一秒，另一样东西追过去，发出长长的，刺耳的吼叫。卡西法喘成蓝黑色，苏菲的皮肤因为感受到魔法的反作用力而发出嘶嘶声。
    麦可匍匐着攀上窗子。“他们离得好近。”
    苏菲也拐着走到窗边，魔法的风暴似乎影响到房里一半以上的事物。骷髅上下两排牙齿不停地打颤，整颗头颅绕着转圈：小包跳来跳去，瓶里的粉沸腾般地骚动着。一本书由架上重重掉下来，打了开来，在底墒自动前前后后的翻书。房子另一头，方向的蒸汽由浴室滚滚而出；另一头则有豪尔的吉他传出走调的丁冬声。卡西法转动得越发厉害了。
    麦可把骷髅放到浴缸里，以免他打开窗户伸长脖子往外瞧时它会掉到地上，但是不管外面发生了什么，他们却看不见，这简直要叫人发狂！对街的人都挤在窗口和门口，指着上空某处。苏菲和麦可冲到储物柜，各拿了一件斗篷披上。苏菲拿到的是会将穿戴者变成红胡子男人的那件，现在她总算知道她穿另一件时卡西法为何会大笑了，麦可是一匹马。但当时实在没是笑，苏菲将门拉开，冲到街上，狗人紧跟在她后面，它对整件事的反应是令人惊讶的冷静。麦可则在她之后，以根本不存在的马蹄喀哒喀哒地小跑出来，独留卡西法在后头拼命挥动着，由蓝色转为白色。
    街上挤满了仰头上望的人，没人有空去注意到‘马由房子里跑出来’这种事。麦可与苏菲随着众人的眼光看去，发现就在烟囱上头，有一大片云在沸腾、扭转。云是黑的，剧烈地自行扭转，看来不像是光线的白色闪光刺穿这片阴郁。但就在苏菲和麦可即将逃离城堡之时，这片魔法的块状物突然变成一群朦胧的、战斗的蛇，然后在发出一声像猫打架时的巨响后，一分为二。一部分嚎叫着、迅速越过屋顶往海上奔去，另一半则尖叫着追过去。
    有些人退回屋里，苏菲跟麦可则加入那群较勇敢的人，走下倾斜的路到码头边去。每个人似乎都认定了港湾防波堤呈弧形的地方视线最好，苏菲也蹒跚地往那里走，但是其实走到港务长居住的小屋遮蔽处就可以了。空中有两股云，在海上，离港口有些距离，接近另一边的防波堤，平静的蓝天中就这么两团云高挂着，很容易就看到了。
    两片云之间有黑色的风暴在海面上酝酿，激起滔天白浪。一艘倒霉的船不幸地陷身其中，船桅被打得前后晃动。人们可以看到浪不停地从四周打在船身。船上的水手拼命要收帆，但是至少有面帆已被撕成飞扬的灰色碎布。
    “他们难道不能放过那艘船吗？”有人愤愤不平地说。
    然后由暴风雨卷其的风与浪突然打向防波堤，白浪冲过来，堤边勇敢的人群全匆忙地退到码头周遍，停泊在码头的船上下激烈地晃动。在一片动乱之中，夹杂着许多像是高昂歌唱声的尖叫。
    苏菲由小屋后面伸出头到风里探看，发现那狂暴的魔法惊扰到的不仅是海洋与船舶而已，许多身上湿漉漉、看起来滑溜溜、有飞扬的青褐色头发的女子。正奋力爬上防波堤，边尖叫着边伸出长长的、潮湿的手，帮那许多仍在浪里尖叫、沉浮的同伴上岸。每个女子都长着一条鱼尾巴，没有双腿。
    “要命！”苏菲叹到：“咒语里提到的美人鱼！”这以为着只剩两件不可能的事会成真了。
    她往上看那两朵云。豪尔跪在左边这一朵上面，比她预期中来得近、也来得大。他仍穿着黑衣，正回过头在看那些惊慌失措的美人鱼。但他的表情看来，完全不像记得她们是诅咒中的一部分。
    女巫现身站在右边的云上，穿一件火红的袍子，长长的红发飞扬着，双手高举要进一步召唤魔法。豪尔转过身看她时，她的双手正好扑下。豪尔的云爆出一股喷泉般、玫瑰色的火焰，产生的热气拖过港口，防波堤的石头随之冒出蒸汽。
    “没事的。”马喘着气说。
    豪尔人在下面那艘摆荡着，几乎要沉掉的船上面。他现在看来只是一个小小的黑色人形，他故意厚脸皮似地对女巫挥手，好让她知道她失手了。他手才举起来，女巫就看到了。云、女巫及一切迅即幻化成一只凶猛的红鸟，对着穿俯冲而下。
    船消失了，美人鱼唱出悲伤的尖叫。船原先所在的地方只剩海水闷闷地起伏荡漾，但是，俯冲的鸟冲得太快煞不住，直直冲下水去，激起高大的浪花。
    所有码头上的人都欢呼起来，“我本来就知道那不是一艘真的船！真的！”苏菲后面有个人这样说。
    “是啊，一定是幻觉。”马聪明地说：“它太小了。”
    事实证明，那船原比它看起来还近。麦可都还没说完，鸟入水时激起的海浪就已来到防波堤。一个二十尺高的绿色水墙平滑地斜越过它，将尖叫的美人鱼扫进港口，将所有停泊在港里的船剧烈地扫向一边，涡流在港务长的小屋四周旋转着发出重击声。马身旁突然伸出一只手来，将苏菲往回拉，往码头方向走。苏菲喘着气，在及膝的灰水中踉跄涉行。狗人跟在他们身边跳跃前行，水都浸到它耳朵了。
    他们才走到码头，港口的船全被打得竖立起来，第二股巨浪又以如山压顶的架势涌过防波堤。水波较平缓的一边跃出一只怪兽，长长黑黑的，长着爪子，半是猫，半是海狮，沿着防波堤朝码头奔来。浪击中港口时，另一只怪兽由浪中跳出来，也是长长的，长相粗野，但身上更多鳞片，在第一只怪物身后紧追不舍。
    每个人都了解到战斗尚未结束，踏溅着水，赶紧后退到码头边的小屋及房子寻求庇护。
    苏菲一路跌跌撞撞的，先是绊到绳子，然后绊到门阶，马伸出手，将她拉起来。两只怪兽奔驰而过，带起盐水横飞四溅。又一股巨浪涌过防波堤，又两只怪兽涌现，与前两只长得一模一样，只不过有鳞的那一只离像猫的一只较近。然后又是一股浪潮带来另外两只，两只间的距离又更近了。
    “这到底是怎么一回事？”看到第三对飞奔而过，防波堤上石头随之震动，苏菲忍不住要唠叨。
    “幻觉，”麦可的声音自马传出。“有些是。他们都试着让对方追错对象。”
    “那个是哪个？”苏菲问。
    “不知道。”马回答。
    有些看热闹的人大概觉得怪物太可怕，就回家了；有些为了避开码头，跳到摇荡的船上。苏菲和麦可加入那些死忠的看热闹者，沿着避难港的街道追下去。他们先是跟着一长条的海水走，然后是潮湿的巨大抓痕，最后是怪物的爪子在街道石头留下的白孔与抓痕，这些将他们引到避难港镇后的沼泽区，也就是苏菲和麦可追逐流星的地方。
    这时，六只怪物已成为六个跳跃的黑点，在远方的平地消失。群众沿着堤岸分散开来，成不规则的一条线。极目四眺，希望还有更多好戏可看，同时又担心害怕着。好一会儿，除了空荡荡的沼泽之外，什么也看不到，什么也没发生。许多人已转身开始离去了，突然听到其他的人大叫：“看！”远处有颗苍白的火球缓缓升起，体积显然非常庞大，爆炸的声音一直到火球化为四处飘散的烟时，才传到看热闹者的耳朵，人们全被那巨大的声响震得直眨眼。他们一直看到那些烟散开来，成为沼泽雾气的一部分，仍继续等着，但剩下的唯有宁静和祥和。风吹响沼泽上的野草，鸟再度叫出声来。
    “我猜他们大概同归于尽了。”人们说。群众渐渐散开来，各自回去原来的工作岗位，继续他们未完成的工作。
    苏菲和麦可一直等到最后，确定一切真的都结束了，才慢慢转身走会避难港。两人都不想说话，只有狗人看起来高兴不已，它在他们身边轻快漫步，苏菲确信那是因为它认为豪尔已经死了。因为对这个情况太满意了，当他们转到豪尔房子所在的街道，一只流浪猫正好在他们前面过街时，狗人愉快地吠了一声，放足追赶。它一路飞快地追，直将它追到城堡门口，猫突然转身瞪眼。
    “滚开，”它喵道：“我可不需要这个。”
    狗露出惭愧的表情往后退。
    麦可喀哒喀哒地奔到门口，大叫道：“豪尔！”
    猫缩成小猫，申请显得十分自怜。“你们两个看起来超爆笑的。”他说：“开门吧，我累惨了。”
    苏菲打开门，猫爬了进去，爬到壁炉边，卡西法缩到只剩下一点点蓝色火花。猫费力地将前爪放到椅子上，然后慢慢变回豪尔，弯着身。
    “你杀了女巫没有？”麦可热切地问，同时脱掉斗篷，又变回自己。
    “没有，”豪尔回答。他转身，啪嗒一声沉到椅子里，就这样躺着，看起来非常疲倦的样子。“都感冒了还来这一场……”他哑声说：“苏菲，看在老天爷的份上，把你那可怕的红胡子脱掉，去柜子里给我找瓶白兰地——除非酒已被你喝掉，或变成松节油。”
    苏菲把斗篷脱掉，找到白兰地和杯子。豪尔一喝就是一杯，好象那是白开水一样，然后他又倒了一杯，但是并没有喝掉，而是小心地滴在卡西法身上。卡西法燃烧起来，发出嘶嘶声，似乎稍稍恢复了些。豪尔倒了第三杯，躺回椅子上慢慢啜饮，“别站在那里瞪着我瞧！”他说：“我不知道谁赢了。女巫非常难攻击，她大都倚赖她的火魔，自己躲在后面。不过我想我们是给了她一些颜色瞧瞧，够她好好想想的。对吧，卡西法？”
    “它比我老，”卡西法从木头下嘶嘶说话：“我比较强壮，但是它知道一些我从未想过的事，她已经拥有它一百年了，它几乎要了我半条命！”嘶嘶作响后，它稍稍爬高一些，抱怨道：“你早该告诉我的。”
    “我有呀，你少假了！”豪尔疲倦地说：“你知道我所知道的每一件事。”
    豪尔躺着喝白兰地时，麦可找出面包和香肠给大家吃。食物使大家都恢复了元气，只有狗人，因为豪尔平安归来，反而显得无精打采。卡西法开始燃烧起来，回复平常的蓝色模样
    “行不通的！”豪尔突然站起来，说：“女巫知道我们在避难港。所以现在我们不仅要搬动城堡和金斯别利入口，还得把卡西法搬到和帽店一块买下来的那间房子里去。”
    “搬我？”卡西法发出劈啪的爆裂声，脸因为担心而变为淡青色。
    “是的，”豪尔说：“你只能在马克奇平跟女巫中选一个。这事由不得你挑剔！”
    “可恶！”卡西法嚎叫着躲回炉架底部。
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Chapter 17 In which the moving castle moves house
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.
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.
Howl and Michael raced out into the yard. Howl raced back. “Sophie!” he shouted. “Quickly! What are we going to sell in that shop?”
“Flowers,” Sophie said, thinking of Mrs. Fairfax again.
“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.
“Which suit is that really?” Sophie asked.
“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?”
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.
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?”
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?”
“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.

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


“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.”
“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.
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.
“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.
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?
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.
“Calcifer,” she said, “were you ever a falling star?”
Calcifer opened one orange eye at her. “Of course,” he said. “I can talk about that if you know. The contract allows me to.”
“And Howl caught you?” said Sophie.
“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.”
“Just like Michael,” said Sophie.
“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.”
“Nobody’s safe in a wizard’s house,” Calcifer said feelingly.
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.

  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.
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?”
“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.
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.
“I found the flowers in the workshed out at the back,” said Howl. “Come and look at the outside.”
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.
“Changed your mind about common names, haven’t you?” said Sophie.
“For reasons of disguise only,” said Howl. “I prefer Pendragon.”
“And where do the fresh flowers come from?” Sophie asked. “You can’t say that and then sell wax roses off hats.”
“Wait and see,” said Howl, leading the way back into the shop.
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.
  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.
“Really?” Howl said coldly. His feelings were hurt. He did so like to be appreciated, Sophie thought, sighing, as Howl went to the castle door and turned the knob to purple-down. On the other hand, she did not think she ever praised Howl, any more than Calcifer did, and she wondered why she should start now.
The door opened. Big bushes loaded with flowers drifted gently past and stopped so that Sophie could climb down among them. Between the bushes, lanes of long, bright green grass led in all different directions. Howl and Sophie walked down the nearest, and the castle followed them, brushing petals off as it went. The castle, tall and back and misshapen though it was, blowing its peculiar little wisps of smoke from one turret or another, did not look out of place here. Magic had been at work here. Sophie knew it had. And the castle fitted somehow.
The air was hot and steamy and filled with the scent of flowers, thousands of them. Sophie nearly said the smell reminded her of the bathroom after Howl had been in it, but she bit it back. The place was truly marvelous. Between the bushes and their loads of purple, red, and white flowers, the wet grass was full of smaller flowers: pink ones with only three petals, giant pansies, wild phlox, lupines of all colors, orange lilies, tall white lilies, irises, and myriad others. There were creepers growing flowers big enough for hats, cornflowers, poppies, and plants with strange shapes and stranger colors of leaves. Though it was not much like Sophie’s dream of a garden like Mrs. Fairfax’s, she forgot her gruffness and became delighted.
“You see,” said Howl. He swung out an arm and his black sleeve disturbed several hundred blue butterflies feasting on a bush of yellow roses. “We can cut flowers by the armload every morning and sell them in Market Chipping with the dew still on them.”
At the end of that green lane the grass became squashy. Vast orchids sprouted under bushes. Howl and Sophie came suddenly to a steaming pool crowded with water lilies. The castle veered off sideways round the pool and drifted down another avenue lined with different flowers.
“If you come out here alone, bring your stick to test the ground with,” Howl said. “It’s full of springs and bog. And don’t go any further that way.”
He pointed southeast, where the sun was a fierce white disk in the misty air. “That’s the Waste over there-very hot and barren and full of Witch.”
“Who made these flowers, right on the edge of the Waste?” Sophie said.
“Wizard Suliman started it a year ago,” Howl said, turning toward the castle. “I think his notion was to make the Waste flower and abolish the Witch that way. He brought hot springs to the surface and got it growing. He was doing very nicely until the Witch caught him.”
“Mrs. Pentstemmon said some other name,” Sophie said. “He came from the same place as you, didn’t he?”
“More or less,” said Howl. “I never met him though. I came and had another go at the place a few months later. It seemed a good idea. That’s how I came to meet the Witch. She objected to it.”
“Why?” said Sophie.
The castle was waiting for them. “She likes to think of herself as a flower,” Howl said, opening the door. “A solitary orchid, blooming in the Waste. Pathetic, really.”
Sophie took another look at the crowded flowers as she followed Howl inside. There were roses, thousands of them. “Won’t the Witch know you’re here?”
“I tried to do the thing she’d least expect,” Howl said.
“And are you trying to find Prince Justin?” Sophie asked. But Howl slithered out of answering by racing through the broom cupboard, shouting for Michael.  
  
    第17章移动的城堡搬家
    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。
    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。
    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？”
    “花。”苏菲说，心里再次想到菲菲克丝太太。
    “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。
    “那到底是哪件衣服？”苏菲问。
    “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？”
    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。”
    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。
    “清场了，麦可。”他说：“大家都清场。卡西法，你准备好了没？”
    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。”
    “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。
    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。
    “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。
    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。
    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。
    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。
    “卡西法，你弄好了没有？”豪尔咳着问。
    “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。
    “不过，你最好自己检查一遍。”
    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。
    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。
    “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。”
    “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。
    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。
    “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。
    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？
    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。
    “卡西法，”她问道：“你曾经是一颗流星吗？”
    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。”
    “是豪尔抓住了你？”
    “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。”
    “跟麦可那天一样。”苏菲说。
    “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。”
    “在巫师家里没有人会安全的。”卡西法感性地说。
    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。
    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。）
    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？”
    “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！”
    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。
    “这些花是我在后面那间工厂找到的。”豪尔说：“来，到外面看看。”
    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。
    “你对普通名字的观感改变啦？”苏菲问。
    “纯为了伪装罢了。我还是比较喜欢围龙那个名字。”
    “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？”
    “等着瞧！”豪尔说着，带领大家回到店里。
    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。
    “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？
    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。
    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。
    “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。”
    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。
    “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。”
    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。”
    “是谁在荒地边缘种花的？”苏菲问。
    “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。”
    “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？”
    “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。”
    “为什么？”苏菲问。
    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。”
    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？”
    “我试着做她最出其不意的事。”豪尔回答。
    “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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Chapter 18 In which the scarecrow and Miss Angorian reappear
They opened the flower shop the next day. As Howl had pointed out, it could not have been simpler. Every early morning, all they had to do was to open the door with the knob purple-down and go out into the swimming green haze to gather flowers. It soon became a routine. Sophie took her stick and her scissors and stumped about, chatting to her stick, using it to test the squashy ground or hook down sprays of high-up choice roses. Michael took an invention of his own which he was very proud of. It was a large tin tub with water in it, which floated in the air and followed Michael wherever he went among the bushes. The dog-man went too. He had a wonderful time rushing about the wet green lanes, chasing butterflies or trying to catch the tiny, bright birds that fed on the flowers. While he dashed about. Sophie cut armloads of blue hibiscus, and Michael loaded the bath with orchids, roses, starry white flowers, shiny vermilion ones, or anything that caught his fancy. They all enjoyed this time.
Then, before the heat in the bushes grew too intense, they took the day’s flowers back to the shop and arranged them in a motley collection of jugs and buckets which Howl had dug out of the yard. Two of the buckets were actually the seven-league boots. Noting, Sophie thought as she arranged shocks of gladiolus in them, could show how completely Howl had lost interest in Lettie. He did not care now if Sophie used them or not.
Howl was nearly always missing while they gathered flowers. And the doorknob was always turned black-down. He was usually back for a late breakfast, looking dreamy, still in his black clothes. He would never tell Sophie which suit the black one really was. “I’m in mourning for Mrs. Pentstemmon,” was all he would say. And if Sophie or Michael asked why Howl was always away at that time, Howl would look injured and say, “If you want to talk to a schoolteacher, you have to catch her before school starts.” Then he would disappear into the bathroom for the next two hours.
Meanwhile Sophie and Michael put on their fine clothes and opened the shop. Howl insisted on the fine clothes. He said it would attract custom. Sophie insisted they all wore aprons. And after the first few days, when the people of Market Chipping simply stared through the window and did not come into the shop, the shop became very popular. Word had gone round that Jenkins had flowers like no flowers ever seen before. People Sophie had known all her life came and bought flowers by the bundle. None of them recognized her, and that made her feel very odd. They all thought she was Howl’s old mother. But Sophie had had enough of being Howl’s old mother. “I’m his aunt,” she told Mrs. Cesari. She became know as Aunt Jenkins.
By the time Howl arrived in the shop, in a black apron to match his suit, he usually found it quite busy. He made it busier still. This was when Sophie began to be sure that the black suit was really the charmed gray-and-scarlet one. Any lady Howl served was sure to go away with at least twice the number of flowers she asked for. Most of the time Howl charmed them into buying ten times as much. Before long, Sophie noticed ladies peering in and deciding not to come into the shop when they saw Howl there. She did not blame them. If you just want a rose for a buttonhole, you do not want to be forced to buy three dozen orchids. She did not discourage Howl when Howl took to spending long hours in the workshed across the yard.

  “I’m setting up defenses against the Witch, before you ask,” he said. “By the time I’ve finished, there will be no way she can get into any part of this place.”
There was sometimes a problem with leftover flowers. Sophie could not bear to see them wilting overnight. She found she could keep them fairly fresh if she talked to them. After that, she talked to flowers a lot. She got Michael to make her a plant-nutrition spell, and she experimented in buckets in the sink, and in tubs in the alcove where she used to trim hats. She found she could keep some plants fresh for days. So of course she experimented some more. She got the soot out of the yard and planted things in it, muttering busily. She grew a navy-blue rose like that, which pleased her greatly. Its buds were coal black, and its flowers opened bluer and bluer until they became almost the same blue as Calcifer. Sophie was so delighted with it that she took roosts from all the bags hanging on the beams and experimented with those. She told herself she had never been happier in her life.
This was not true. Something was wrong, and Sophie could not understand what. Sometimes she thought it was the way no one in Market Chipping recognized her. She did not dare go and see Martha, for fear Martha would not know her either. She did not dare tip the flowers out of the seven-league boots and go and see Lettie for the same reason. She just could not bear either of her sisters to see her as an old woman.
Michael went off with bunches of spare flowers to see Martha all the time. Sometimes Sophie thought that was what was the matter with her. Michael was so cheerful, and she was left on her own in the shop more and more often. But that did not seem to be quite it. Sophie enjoyed selling flowers on her own.
Sometimes the trouble seemed to be Calcifer. Calcifer was bored. He had nothing to do except to keep the castle gently drifting along the lanes of grass and round the various pools and lakes, and to make sure that they arrived in a new spot, with new flowers, every morning. His blue face was always leaning eagerly out of the grate when Sophie and Michael came in with their flowers. “I want to see what it’s like out there,” he said. Sophie brought him tasty smelling leaves to burn, which made the castle room smell as strongly as the bathroom, but Calcifer said what he really wanted was company. They went in to the shop all day and left him alone.
So Sophie made Michael serve in the shop for at least an hour every morning while she went and talked to Calcifer. She invented guessing games to keep Calcifer occupied when she was busy. But Calcifer was still discontented. “When are you going to break my contract with Howl?” he asked more and more often.
And Sophie put Calcifer off. “I’m working on it,” she said. “It won’t be long now.” This was not quite true. Sophie had stopped thinking of it unless she had to. When she put together what Mrs. Pentstemmon had said with all the things Howl and Calcifer had said, she found she had some strong and rather terrible ideas about the contract. She was sure that breaking it would be the end of both Howl and Calcifer. Howl might deserve it, but Calcifer did not. And since Howl seemed to be working quite hard in order to slither out of the rest of the Witch’s curse, Sophie wanted to do nothing unless she could help.

  Sometimes Sophie thought it was simply that the dog-man was getting her down. He was such a doleful creature. The only time he seemed to enjoy himself was when he chased down the green lanes between the bushes every morning. For the rest of the day he trudged gloomily about after Sophie, sighing deeply. As Sophie could do nothing about him either, she was rather glad when the dog-man took to lying in patches of shade out in the yard, panting.
Meanwhile the roots Sophie had planted had become quite interesting. The onion had become a small palm tree and was sprouting little onion-scented nuts. Another root grew into a sort of pink sunflower. Only one was slow to grow. When it at last put out two round green leaves, Sophie could hardly wait to see what it would grow into. The next day it looked as if it might be an orchid. It had pointed leaves spotted with mauve and a long green stalk growing out of the middle with a large bud on it. The day after that, Sophie left the fresh flowers in the tin bath and hurried eagerly to the alcove to see how it was getting on.
The bud had opened into a pink flower like an orchid that had been through a mangle. It was flat, and joined to the stalk just below a round tip. There were four petals sprouting from a plump pink middle, two pointing downward and two more halfway up that stuck out sideways. While Sophie stared at it, a strong scent of spring flowers warned her that Howl had come in and was standing behind her.
“What is that thing?” he said. “If you were expecting an ultra-violet violet or an infra-red geranium, you got it wrong, Mrs. Mad Scientist.”
“It looks like a squashed-baby flower,” Michael said, coming to look.
It did too. Howl shot Michael an alarmed look and picked up the flower in its pot. He slid it out of the pot into his hand, where he carefully separated the white, thready roots and the soot and the remains of the manure spell, until he uncovered the brown, forked root Sophie had grown it from. “I might have guessed,” he said. “It’s mandrake root. Sophie strikes again. You do have a touch, don’t you, Sophie?” He put the plant carefully back, passed it to Sophie, and went away, looking rather pale.
So that was almost all the curse come true, Sophie thought as she went to arrange the fresh flowers in the shopwindow. The mandrake root had had a baby. That only left one more thing: the wind to advance an honest mind. If that meant Howl’s mind had to be honest, Sophie thought, there was a chance that the curse might never come true. She told herself it served Howl right anyway, for going courting Miss Angorian every morning in a charmed suit, but she still felt alarmed and guilty. She arranged a sheaf of white lilies in a seven-league boot. She crawled into the window to get them just so, and she heard a regular clump, clump, clump from outside in the street. It was not the sound of a horse. It was the sound of a stick hitting the stones.
Sophie’s heart was behaving oddly even before she dared look out of the window. There, sure enough, came the scarecrow, hopping slowly and purposefully down the center of the street. The rags trailing from its outstretched arms were fewer and grayer, and the turnip of its face was withered into a look of determination, as if it had hopped ever since Howl hurled it away, until at last it had hopped its way back.

  Sophie was not the only one to be scared. The few people about that early were running away from the scarecrow as hard as they could run. But the scarecrow took no notice and hopped on.
Sophie hid her face from it. “We’re not here!” she told it in a fierce whisper. “You don’t know we’re here! You can’t find us. Hop away fast!”
The clump, clump of the hopping stick slowed as the scarecrow neared the shop. Sophie wanted to scream for Howl, but all she seemed to be able to do was to go on repeating, “We’re not here. Go away quickly!”
And the hop-hopping speeded up, just as she told it to, and the scarecrow hopped its way past the shop and on through Market Chipping. Sophie thought she was going to come over queer. But she seemed just to have been holding her breath. She took a deep breath and felt shaky with relief. If the scarecrow came back, she could send it away again.
Howl had gone out when Sophie went into the castle room. “He seemed awfully upset,” Michael said. Sophie looked at the door. The knob was black-down. Not that upset! she thought.
Michael went out too, to Cesari’s, that morning, as Sophie was alone in the shop. It was very hot. The flowers wilted in spite of the spells, and very few people seemed to want to buy any. What with this, and the mandrake root, and the scarecrow, all Sophie’s feelings seemed to come to a head. She was downright miserable.
“It may be the curse hovering to catch up with Howl,” she sighed to the flowers, “but I think it’s being the eldest, really. Look at me! I set out to seek my fortune and I end up exactly where I started, and old as the hills still!”
Here the dog-man put his glossy red snout round the door to the yard and whined. Sophie sighed. Never an hour passed without the creature checking up on her. “Yes, I’m still here,” she said. “Where did you expect me to be?”
The dog came into the shop. He sat up and stretched hid paws out stiffly in front of him. Sophie realized he was trying to turn into a man. Poor creature. She tried to be nice to him because he was, after all, worse off than she was.
“Try harder,” she said. “Put your back into it. You can be a man if you want.”
The dog stretched and straightened his back, and strained and strained. And just as Sophie was sure he was going to have to give up or topple over backward, he managed to rise to his hind legs and heave himself up into a distraught, ginger-haired man.
“I envy-Howl,” he panted. “Does that-so easily. I was-dog in the hedge-you helped. Told Lettie-I knew you-I’d keep watch. I was-here before in-” He began to double up again into a dog and howled with annoyance. “With Witch in shop!” he wailed, and fell forward onto his hands, growing a great deal of gray and white hair as he did so.
Sophie stared at the large, shaggy dog that stood there. “You were with the Witch!” she said. She remembered now. The anxious ginger-haired man who had stared at her in horror. “Then you know who I am and you know I’m under a spell. Does Lettie know too?”
The huge, shaggy head nodded.
  “And she called you Gaston,” Sophie remembered. “Oh, my friend, she has made it hard for you! Fancy having all that hair in this weather! You’d better go somewhere cool.”
The dog nodded again and shambled miserably into the yard.
“But why did Lettie send you?” Sophie wondered. She felt thoroughly put out and disturbed by this discovery. She went up the stairs and through the broom cupboard to talk to Calcifer.
Calcifer was not much help. “It doesn’t make any difference how many people know you’re under a spell,” he said. “It hasn’t helped the dog much, has it?”
“No, but-” Sophie began, but, just then, the castle door clicked and opened. Sophie and Calcifer looked. They saw the door-knob was still set to black-down, and they expected Howl to come through it. It was hard to say which of them was more astonished when the person who slid rather cautiously round the door turned out to be Miss Angorian.
Miss Angorian was equally astonished. “Oh, I beg your pardon!” she said. “I thought Mr. Jenkins might be here.”
“He’s out,” Sophie said stiffly, and she wondered where Howl had gone, if not to see Miss Angorian.
Miss Angorian let go of the door, which she had been clutching in her surprise. She left it swinging open on nothing and came pleadingly toward Sophie. Sophie found she had got up herself and come across the room. It seemed as if she was trying to block Miss Angorian off. “Please,” said Miss Angorian, “don’t tell Mr. Jenkins I was here. To tell you the truth, I only encouraged him in hope of getting news of my fiancé-Ben Sullivan, you know. I’m positive Ben disappeared to the same place Mr. Jenkins keeps disappearing to. Only Ben didn’t come back.”
“There’s no Mr. Sullivan here,” Sophie said. And she thought, That’s Wizard Suliman’s name! I don’t believe a word of it!
“Oh, I know that,” Miss Angorian said. “But this feels like the right place. Do you mind if I just look round a little to give myself some idea of the sort of life Ben’s leading now?” She hooked her sheet of black hair behind one ear and tried to walk further into the room. Sophie stood in the way. This forced Miss Angorian to tiptoe pleadingly away sideways toward the workbench. “How very quaint!” she said, looking at the bottles and jars. “What a quaint little town!” she said, looking out of the window.
“It’s called Market Chipping,” Sophie said, and she moved round and herded Miss Angorian back towards the door.
“And what’s up those stairs?” Miss Angorian asked, pointing to the open door to the stairs.
“Howl’s private room,” Sophie said firmly, walking Miss Angorian away backward.
“And what’s through that other open door?” Miss Angorian asked.
“A flower shop,” said Sophie. Nosy Parker! she thought.
By this time Miss Angorian either had to back into the chair or out through the door again. She stared at Calcifer in a vague, frowning way, as if she was not sure what she was seeing, and Calcifer simply stared back without saying a word. This made Sophie feel better about being so very unfriendly. Only people who understood Calcifer were really welcome in Howl’s house.

  But now Miss Angorian made a dive round the chair and noticed Howl’s guitar leaning in its corner. She snatched it up with a gasp and turned round holding it to her chest possessively. “Ben had a guitar like this! It could be Ben’s!”
“I heard Howl bought it last winter,” Sophie said. And she walked forwards again, trying to scoop Miss Angorian out of her corner and through the door.
“Something’s happened to Ben!” Miss Angorian said throbbingly. “He would never have parted from his guitar! Where is he? I know he can’t be dead. I’d know in my heart if he were!”
Sophie wondered whether to tell Miss Angorian that the Witch had caught Wizard Suliman. She looked across to see where the human skull was. She had half a mind to wave it in Miss Angorian’s face and say it was Wizard Suliman’s. But the skull was in the sink, hidden behind a bucket of spare ferns and lilies, and she knew that if she went over there, Miss Angorian would ooze out into the room again. Besides, it would be unkind.
“May I take this guitar?” Miss Angorian said huskily, clutching it to her. “To remind me of Ben.”
The throb in Miss Angorian’s voice annoyed Sophie. “No,” she said. “There’s no need to be so intense about it. You’ve no proof it was his.” She hobbled close to Miss Angorian and seized the guitar by its neck. Miss Angorian stared at her over it with wide, anguished eyes. Sophie dragged. Miss Angorian hung on. The guitar gave out horrible, out-of-tune jangles. Sophie jerked it out of Miss Angorian’s arms. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “You’ve no right to walk into people’s castles and take their guitars. I’ve told you Mr. Sullivan’s not here. Now go back to Wales. Go on.” And she used the guitar to push Miss Angorian backward through the open door.
Miss Angorian backed into the nothingness until half of her vanished. “You’re hard,” she said reproachfully.
“Yes, I am!” said Sophie and slammed the door on her. She turned the knob to orange-down to prevent Miss Angorian coming back and dumped the guitar back in its corner with a firm twang. “And don’t you dare tell Howl she was here!” she said unreasonably to Calcifer. “I bet she came to see Howl. The rest was just a pack of lies. Wizard Suliman was settled here, years ago. He probably came to get away from her beastly throbbing voice!”
Calcifer chuckled. “I’ve never seen anyone got rid of so fast!” he said.
This made Sophie feel both unkind and guilty. After all, she herself had walked into the castle in much the same way, and had been twice as nosy as Miss Angorian. “Gah!” she said. She stumped into the bathroom and stared at her withered old face in the mirrors. She picked up one of the packets labeled SKIN and then tossed it down again. Even young and fresh, she did not think her face compared particularly well with Miss Angorian’s. “Gah!” she said. “Doh!” She hobbled rapidly back and seized ferns and lilies from the sink. She hobbled with them, dripping, to the shop, where she rammed them into a bucket of nutrition spell. “Be daffodils!” she told them in a mad, croaking voice. “Be daffodils in June, you beastly things!”
The dog-man put his shaggy face round the yard door. When he saw the mood Sophie was in, he backed out again hurriedly. When Michael came merrily in with a large pie a minute later, Sophie gave him such a glare that Michael instantly remembered a spell Howl had asked him to make up and fled away through the broom cupboard.
“Gah!” Sophie snarled after him. She bent over her bucket again. “Be daffodils! Be daffodils!” she croaked. It did not make her feel any better that she knew it was a silly way to behave.

    第18章城堡变成花店
    花店第二天就开张，而就像豪尔所指出的，事情真是再简单不过了。每天清晨，他们只需要将门把转到紫色向下，然后开门到那流动的绿色雾霭里去采集花朵，很快地，这变成每日的固定工作。苏菲带着拐杖和剪刀四处走动，跟拐杖说话，用它来测试柔软的土地，或者勾下想摘取的、长在高处枝丫的玫瑰。麦可带着他非常引以为豪的发明——一个漂浮在空中，跟着麦可在树丛中四处走动、装了水的大锡桶。狗人也跟着，兴高采烈地在湿湿的绿草径上奔跑，追逐蝴蝶，或试图抓住那靠着吸取花蜜为生、色彩明艳的小小鸟。它四处跑的时候，苏菲就去剪长柄的鸢尾花、百合、叶状的桔色花朵或整枝的木槿。麦可则在他的锡桶中装满兰花、玫瑰、满天星、亮丽的朱红色花朵，或任何他正好看上眼的花。这是他们的快乐时段。
    然后在树丛间的热气上升到叫人难以忍受之前，他们将当天的花带回店里，将它们安插在各色各样的瓶子或桶子里，那都是豪尔由院子里挖出来的，其中两个桶子其实是七里格靴。苏菲边将成把的剑兰放到靴里边想到，在没有比这更能证明豪尔是如何彻底地对乐蒂失去兴趣。他现在根本不在乎苏菲用不用它们。
    每天他们采花的时候，豪尔差不多总会失踪，而门柄总是黑色朝下。通常他会回来吃个比别人晚的早餐，脸上带着做梦的表情，身上则仍旧穿着那套黑衣。他从不肯告诉苏菲，那套黑衣究竟是哪一套衣服变成的，他只肯说：“我还在为潘思德曼太太守丧。”如果麦可或苏菲问他为何总在那个时间外出，他就会露出受伤的表情说：“想跟老师说话的话，一定得在学校开始上课前才有办法啊。”说完就会消失到浴室里去，一进去就是两个钟头。
    这时，苏菲跟麦可就穿上他们的好衣服，开店做生意。穿漂亮衣服是豪尔坚持的，他说那会有助于招徕顾客，苏菲则坚持大家都要穿围裙。起先几天，马克奇平的镇民只是隔窗观望，没有进来购买，但是观望过去之后，店里生意变得很好，人们口碑相传，说建肯花店里有他们从未见过的花卉。苏菲从小熟知的人进来大量买花，但是没有人认出她，这真是奇怪的感觉。他们都以为他是豪尔的妈妈，但是苏菲已经受够了乔装成豪尔的妈妈，她告诉希塞利太太：“我是他阿姨。”于是人们就以“建肯阿姨”来称呼她。
    等豪尔穿着黑衣和搭配的黑围裙来到店里时，店里通常已经很忙了，而他的到来总会令店里忙上加忙。苏菲开始觉得那套黑衣八成是那件有迷咒的灰红色衣服改装的，因为每个豪尔接待过的女士，至少都会买下原来想买的两倍数量的花，大多数的时间，买的甚至是十倍。因此，要不了多久，苏菲发现女士们会先在店外窥探，看到豪尔在店里的话，她们就不进来了。她一点也不怪她们。如果你只想买一朵可以插在钮扣孔的玫瑰，当然不想被硬性说服去买三打兰花。因此豪尔到院子另一头的小工厂待上很久时，她一点也没阻拦他。
    “好叫你知道，我是在设置防御女巫的系统。”豪尔说：“等我完成后，她就完全进不来了。”
    有时有卖不完的花需要处理。苏菲不忍心任它们在夜里凋萎，她发现若跟它们说说话，花就可以保持新鲜，从此，她就常常跟花儿们说话。她要麦可帮她弄了一个植物营养咒，他就在水槽的桶子，以及她从前装饰帽子用的那个工作间的浴缸里做实验，她发现她可以让一些植物保鲜数日之久，所以她又做了更多的实验。她由院子里取来煤灰，将东西种在里头，口中不住地喃喃自语。用这样的方法，居然给她种出了一朵蓝色玫瑰，令她高兴莫名。起先，那花苞是似炭的黑色，随着花瓣的开展，颜色越来越蓝，越来越蓝，终至成为接近卡西法的蓝色。苏菲高兴极了！她将垂挂在梁上袋子里的根全拿出来实验。她告诉自己，这辈子不曾这样快乐。
    但这其实不是真的，有什么事不太对劲，偏偏她又说不出个所以然来，有时她想，或许是因为马克奇平没有人认出她来。她不敢去看玛莎，怕玛莎也认不出她。基于同样的理由，她也不敢将花丛七里格靴拿出来，穿着靴子去拜访乐蒂，她无法忍受以老妇的模样出现在两个妹妹面前。
    麦可一天到晚带着店里多余的花去看玛莎，有时苏菲觉得，那可能就是造成她不快乐的原因，麦可是那么快乐，而她被独自留在店里的时间却越来越多，但原因似乎又并非如此，因为她蛮喜欢独自一个人卖花的。
    有时似乎又跟卡西法有关。卡西法觉得日子太无聊了！它唯一的工作是，让城堡轻轻地在草径间漂浮，绕着水池跟湖泊行走，并确定每个早晨到不同的地点采不同的花。当苏菲和麦可带着花进门时，它的蓝脸总是热切地伸出炉架。“我想知道外面的世界。”它说。苏菲给它带回味道又香又甜的叶子做燃料，令城堡的房间像豪尔的浴室那样，充满香味，但卡西法说它最需要的其实是同伴。他们整天在店里，留下它一人，孤孤单单的。因此，苏菲规定麦可每天早上至少的在店里帮忙一个钟头，她就利用这个时间跟卡西法说话。她还发明一种猜谜游戏，当她忙着时，可以让卡西法有事做，但是卡西法还是不快乐。“你什么时候才要帮我解除我和豪尔的契约？”它问的次数越来越频繁。
    苏菲总是推拖着，说：“已经在想办法了。”“不会太久了。”但事实并非如此。除非不得已，苏菲是不会去想它的。当她把潘思德曼太太所说的，以及豪尔和卡西法告诉她的事综合起来后，她对那个契约有一个很强烈的可怕想法。她很确定一旦契约被打破，豪尔跟卡西法都会死亡。豪尔或许是咎由自取，但卡西法可不成，而且，既然豪尔很努力要避开女巫剩下的咒语，除非她真的帮得上忙，否则还是别轻举妄动。
    有时，苏菲又觉得是狗人的缘故，它的遭遇真是挺悲惨的。它每天唯一快乐的时光，大概就是早上在绿径上追逐的时候了，其余时间他都意志消沉地跟在苏菲身后，深深叹气。因为苏菲也帮不上他的忙，因此，当日子越来越接近仲夏，天气越来越热，狗人必须躲在后院阴凉处喘气时，她着实松了一口气。
    这段期间内，苏菲种的那些跟变得相当有趣。洋葱长成一棵小棕榈树，树上长着有洋葱味的小小豆子，另一条根长成粉红色的向日葵。只有一棵长得特别慢。当它终于长出两片圆形的叶子时，苏菲真是等不及要看它会长成什么样子。次日，它看起来像是会长成兰花的样子，尖叶子上有着淡紫色斑点，中间一根长长的茎，上面长着一个硕大的花苞。又次日，苏菲把鲜花留在锡桶里，迫不及待赶到小房间里要看花的生长情形。
    花苞已开成一朵粉红色、像兰花的花朵，形状怪异，仿如被轧布机碾过一般扁平，与茎连接处只有一个圆点，中间鼓起，呈粉红色，由此伸出四片花瓣，两片向下生长，另两片则向上长了一半，即斜向旁边。苏菲正看着，突然传来一阵浓烈的春天花香。豪尔进来，就站在他身后。
    “这是什么东西？”他问道。“疯狂科学家，如果你期待的是一棵紫外线紫罗兰或红外线天竺葵，你铁定是弄错了。”
    “看来像是被压扁的花的小小孩。”麦可也进来看。
    确实如此！豪尔震惊地看了麦可一眼，将花连盆拿起，把花由盆中倒出，拿在手上，仔细地将白色线状的根、煤灰以及剩余的肥料咒分开，直到他找到那截褐色分叉的块根。
    “我早该知道的！”他说：“这是曼陀罗花的根，苏菲又击中要害了。你真是谁碰上谁倒霉。”他把花种回去，拿给苏菲，然后走开，脸色看来十分苍白。
    这一来，咒语的条件几乎都齐全了。苏菲到店里，将鲜花在窗边摆开，一边想着：就只剩下一样了——吹着诚实心灵向前的风。如果这意味着豪尔的心必须要诚实，这个咒语到有可能永远不会兑现。她告诉自己，若真发生了，豪尔也是活该，谁叫他要每天穿着有迷咒的衣服去追求安歌丽雅小姐。但她还是觉得惊慌，并且有罪恶感。她将一束白色百合放到七里格靴里，然后爬到窗台去把它们放好，就在这时，她听到外面街上传来一阵规则的喀哒喀哒声，那不是马蹄的声音，是一根棍子击打在石头上的声音。
    苏菲还没鼓起勇气探头出去，心脏就已经开始乱跳了。是的，没错，是稻草人，缓慢但是坚定地，从街道中间对着她跳过来。外伸的双臂上挂着的破布更少，更旧了。萝卜脸风干到有一股坚定不移的表情，仿佛在豪尔将他吹跑之后，他就不断地跳着，直到跳回来为止。
    苏菲不是唯一被吓到的人，一大早就在街上的少数行人都尽快跑开。但是稻草人毫不在意，只一心一意地跳着。
    苏菲把脸藏起来，不敢让它看到。“我们不再这儿，”她悄声，严厉地说：“你不知道我们在这儿，你找不到我们，快快跳走！”
    稻草人越来越接近花店，棍子跳动的喀哒喀哒声渐渐慢下来。苏菲想尖叫，要豪尔过来。但她所能做的似乎只是一再重复：“我们不在这里！快快走开！”
    那跳动声渐渐加快。正如她所交代的，稻草人跳过花店，穿过马克奇平，跳走了。苏菲以为她要昏倒了，结果似乎只是因为太紧张，忘了呼吸而已，她深深地吸了一口气，心情放松后开始颤抖。假如稻草人又回来，她可以再度把它送走。
    苏菲到城堡房间时，豪尔已经外出。“他的心情似乎非常不好。”麦可说。苏菲看看门把，是黑色朝下。还没不好到那个程度，她想。
    那天早上，麦可也出去了，去希塞利。苏菲独自一人在店里，天气非常热，虽然有咒语，花还是枯萎了。几乎没有人想要买花，店里情形如此，加上曼陀罗花的事件，以及稻草人的重现，苏菲的情绪绷到最高点，她觉得心情恶劣到无以复加。
    “虽然或许是因为咒语盘旋着要追上豪尔，”她对着花叹气：“但是我想，这其实跟我是家里的老大有关系，我离家想创一番事业，结果又回到原点不说，人还老的跟什么似的。”
    狗人将它光滑的红鼻子放在通往后院的门旁，小声叫着，苏菲叹了口气。这只狗每一小时就会过来看看她，“是的，我还在，”她说：“不然你以为我会去哪里？”
    狗进来屋里，坐起来，将前脚僵直地伸在前面，苏菲意识到它是着要变回人形。可怜的家伙！她尝试着对它好，因为毕竟它的处境比她还凄惨。
    “再用力些！”她说：“背脊用力。意愿够强的话就可以办到。”
    狗伸直了背，用力地挣了又挣，就在苏菲认定它若不放弃就会向后栽跟头时，它以后脚人立起来，挺成一个满面愁容、有赤黄色头发的男人。
    “我羡慕……豪尔，”他喘着气说：“变得那么容易。我是……树丛里那只狗……你救了我。告诉了乐蒂……我认得你，我会保护你。我在这……以前……”他身体又开始前倾变成狗，生气地嚎叫着：“跟女巫去店里！”他叫着，手碰到前面的地上，同时长出许多灰色及白色的毛。
    苏菲瞪着这只站在她面前，大大的长毛狗。“你跟女巫在一起？”现在她想起来了，那个以惊恐眼光瞪着她的，满脸焦虑的赤黄色头发男子。“那么，你知道我是谁，你也知道我被下了咒？乐蒂也知道吗？”这只大大的长毛狗点点头。
    “她叫你格斯顿，”苏菲想起来了，“噢，我的朋友，她真是让你的日子很不好过呢！这种天气里还盖着那一身长毛，你最好到阴凉的地方去。”
    狗再度点头，悲伤地拖着脚步走到后院。
    “但是乐蒂为何要送你过来呢？”苏菲奇怪着。她觉得非常困惑不解，于是上了楼，穿过储物柜，去找卡西法商量。
    但是卡西法也帮不上什么忙。“有多少人知道你被下咒又有什么差别？”它说：“那只狗也一样啊！还不是一点帮助也没有。”
    “但是——”苏菲刚张口，就听到城堡的门轻响了一声，被打开。苏菲跟卡西法望过去，看到门把仍然是黑色朝下。他们等着豪尔走进来，结果很难说是谁比较吃惊，这个小心翼翼溜进来的人，居然是安歌丽雅小姐。
    安歌丽雅小姐显然也吓了一大跳。“噢，对不起！”她说：“我还以为建肯先生可能会在这里。”
    “他出去了，”苏菲僵硬地说。心想，如果豪而不是去找安歌丽雅小姐的话，会是去了哪里？
    安歌丽雅小姐把门柄放开。方才因为惊吓，一直都握着。她就任它开着，外头是一片虚无，然后一脸请求地走向苏菲。苏菲发现自己不知何时已经起身，走过房间，仿佛要将安歌丽雅小姐挡出去似的。“拜托，”安歌丽雅小姐说：“请不要告诉建肯先生我来过。让我跟你实话实说吧，我所以鼓励他来接近我，是因为我希望能得到关于我未婚夫——宾.苏利曼的消息。我确信宾是在建肯先生常消失不见的地方消失的，唯一的差别是，宾没有回来。”
    “这里没有苏利曼先生。”苏菲说。同时心里想着，那是苏利曼巫师的名字！她说的话我一个字也不相信！
    “我知道，”安歌丽雅小姐说：“可是我感觉应该就是这个地方。你不介意我稍微四处看一看吧？我想知道宾现在过得是什么样的生活。”她把黑发拢到一边的耳后，事着深入房间，但是苏菲挡在中间。这逼的安歌丽雅小姐只好踮着脚尖、面带恳求地绕到旁边的工作台，“多有趣呀！”她看着那些瓶瓶罐罐赞叹，然后，看着窗外说：“多有趣的小城呀！”
    “那是马克奇平镇。”苏菲说着，移动位置，逼安歌丽雅小姐后退，往大门移动。
    “楼上是什么？”她指着通往楼梯的门问。
    “豪尔的私人房间。”苏菲语气坚定地说，边逼着安歌丽雅小姐往后退。
    “另一扇开开的门通往哪里？”安歌丽雅小姐又问。
    “一间花店。”苏菲嘴里答着，心里骂道：有够爱问的！
    这时安歌丽雅小姐若不是得坐到椅子上，就是得走出大门了。她微微蹙眉地盯着卡西法看，好像不太确定自己看到的是什么来着，卡西法直瞪回去，一言不发。这让苏菲对自己的不友善觉得好过些，只有了解卡西法的人才会在豪尔的家里受到欢迎。
    但是安歌丽雅小姐闪过椅子，看到豪尔的吉他靠在角落，她娇喘一声，一把抓住，转过身来，将吉他紧紧抱在胸前。“这是打哪儿来的？”她声音低低的，充满感情的说：“宾有一把像这样的吉他，这很可能就是宾的。”
    “我听豪尔说，这是他去年冬天买的。”苏菲说着，又往前逼近几步，试图将安歌丽雅小姐赶离那个角落，赶出门去。
    “宾一定出事了！”安歌丽雅小姐颤抖着声音说：“不然他绝不会跟他的吉他分开的，他在哪里？我知道他不可能死了。如果他死了，我心里一定会有感觉！”
    苏菲不知道该不该告诉她，苏利曼巫师被女巫抓住了。她眼睛往骷髅的所在瞄去，但骷髅放在洗手槽里，藏在一桶多出来的羊齿蕨和百合后面。她知道自己若走过去的话，安歌丽雅小姐一定又会抓住机会进到房里。此外，这样也太残忍。
    “我可以把吉他带走吗？”安歌丽雅小姐紧握着吉他，沙哑地问道：“让我可以记得宾。”
    她声音中的颤抖令苏菲不悦。“不成，”她说：“你无需这样情绪化，你根本无法证明这是他的。”她拐着脚走近安歌丽雅小姐，抓住吉他的颈状部。安歌丽雅小姐痛苦的睁大眼睛看着她。苏菲用力拉，但是安歌丽雅小姐不肯放手，吉他发出难听、走调的叮咚声。苏菲将吉他用力扯离安歌丽雅小姐的手，“别傻了。”她说，“你无权走进别人的城堡，并擅自拿走他人的吉他。我已经告诉过你，苏利曼先生不在这里。你回威尔斯去吧！去啊。”然后，她用那把吉他将安歌丽雅小姐往后推，推过那扇仍然开着的门。
    安歌丽雅小姐退到那片虚无之中，直到她有半个人都消失了。“你心肠好硬！”她指责道。
    “没错！”苏菲说完，用力将门关上。然后把门把转到桔色向下，以免安歌丽雅小姐又跑回来。她将吉他铛地丢回原来的角落，“你敢告诉豪尔她来过的话，就给我试试看！”她不讲理地跟卡西法说：“我敢打赌她是来找豪尔的，其余的说词全是谎言！苏利曼巫师住在这里是几年前的事了，也许就为了要躲开她那恐怖的颤抖声音。”
    卡西法咯咯地笑：“从没看过那么快就被赶出去的。”
    这令苏菲觉得自己很不友善，并且有罪恶感。毕竟，她自己也是用类似的方式进来城堡的，而且她的好管闲事比起安歌丽雅小姐，只怕是两倍有余。“啐！”她说。
    她重重踩着脚步进入浴室，盯着镜中自己那张老脸。她拿起一包上面写着“皮肤”的小包，又将它扔下。即便她能恢复青春的模样，她也不认为自己的脸足以跟安歌丽雅小姐相比。“啐！哼！”她很快地拐到洗手槽那里，将羊齿蕨和百合拿起来，就这样湿漉漉地，一路滴着水来到店里。她将它们一把丢到一桶营养咒里。“变成喇叭水仙！”她用疯狂、生气、嘶哑的声音叫道：“笨蛋！六月里全给我变成喇叭水仙！”
    狗人将它长满长毛的脸放在后院门上，当它看到苏菲情绪恶劣时，赶紧开溜。一分钟后，麦可高高兴兴拿着一块派饼进门，苏菲横了他一眼，眼光非常恐怖，麦可马上想起豪尔交待他要补做一个咒语，迅速穿过储物柜逃生去也！
    “啐！”苏菲对着他的背影张牙舞爪，再度弯身对着桶子嘶声叫道：“变喇叭水仙！变喇叭水仙！”她知道自己这样发脾气很愚蠢，但是心情一点也没有因之好转。
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Chapter 19 In which Sophie expresses her feelings with weed-k
Howl opened the door toward the end of the afternoon and sauntered in, whistling. He seemed to have got over the mandrake root. It did not make Sophie feel any better to find he had not gone to Wales after all. She gave him her very fiercest glare.
“Merciful heavens!” Howl said. “I think that turned me to stone! What’s the matter?”
Sophie only snarled, “What suit are you wearing?”
Howl looked down at his black garments. “Does it matter?”
“Yes!” growled Sophie. “And don’t give me that about being in mourning! Which one is it really?”
Howl shrugged and held up one trailing sleeve as if he were not sure which it was. He stared at it, looking puzzled. The black color of it ran downward from his shoulder into the pointed, hanging tip. His shoulder and the top of his sleeve grew brown, then gray, while the pointed tip turned inkier and inkier, until Howl was wearing a back suit with one blue-and-silver sleeve whose end seemed to have been dipped in tar. “That one,” he said, and let the black spread back up to his shoulder again.
Sophie was somehow more annoyed than ever. She gave a wordless grump of rage.
“Sophie!” Howl said in his most laughing, pleading way.
The dog-man pushed open the yard door and shambled in. He never would let Howl talk to Sophie for long.
Howl stared at it. “You’ve got an Old English sheepdog now,” he said, as if he was glad of the distraction. “Two dogs are going to take a lot of feeding.”
“There’s only one dog,” Sophie said crossly. “He’s under a spell.”
“He is?” said Howl, and he set off toward the dog with a speed that showed he was quite glad to get away from Sophie. This of course was the last thing the dog-man wanted. He backed away. Howl pounced, and caught him by two handfuls of shaggy hair before he could reach the door. “So he is!” he said, and knelt down to look into what could be seen of the sheepdog’s eyes. “Sophie,” he said, “what do you mean by not telling me about this? This dog is a man! And he’s in a terrible state!” Howl whirled round on one knee, still holding the dog. Sophie looked into Howl’s glass-marble glare and realized that Howl was angry now, really angry.
Good. Sophie felt like a fight. “You could have noticed for yourself,” she said, glaring back, daring Howl to do his worst with green slime. “Anyway, the dog didn’t want-”
Howl was too angry to listen. He jumped up and hauled the dog across the tiles. “And so I would have done, if I hadn’t had things on my mind,” he said. “Come on. I want you in front of Calcifer.” The dog braced all four shaggy feet. Howl lugged at it, braced and sliding. “Michael!” he yelled.
There was a particular sound to that yell which brought Michael running.
“And did you know this dog was really a man?” Howl asked as he and Michael dragged the reluctant mountain of a dog up the stairs.
“He’s not, is he? Michael asked, shocked and surprised.
“Then I let you off and just blame Sophie,” Howl said, hauling the dog through the broom cupboard. “Anything like this is always Sophie! But you knew, didn’t you Calcifer?” he said as the two of them dragged the dog in front of the hearth.

  Calcifer retreated until he was bent backward against the chimney. “You never asked,” he said.
“Do I have to ask you?” Howl said. “All right, I should have noticed myself! But you disgust me, Calcifer! Compared with the way the Witch treats her demon, you live a revoltingly easy life, and all I ask in return is that you tell me things I need to know. This is twice you’ve let me down! Now help me get this creature to its own shape this minute!”
Calcifer was an unusually sickly shade of blue. “All right,” he said sulkily.
The dog-man tried to get away, but Howl got his shoulder under its chest and shoved, so that it went up onto its hind legs, willy-nilly. Then he and Michael held it there. “What’s the silly creature holding out for?” Howl panted. “This feels like one of the Witch of the Waste’s again, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. There are several layers of it,” said Calcifer.
“Let’s get the dog part off anyway,” said Howl.
Calcifer surged to a deep, roaring blue. Sophie, watching prudently from the door of the broom cupboard, saw the shaggy dog shape fade away inside the man shape. It faded to dog again, then back to man, blurred, then hardened. Finally, Howl and Michael were each holding the arm of a ginger-haired man in a crumpled brown suit. Sophie was not surprised she had not recognized him. Apart from his anxious look, his face was almost totally lacking in personality.
“Now, who are you, my friend?” Howl asked him.
The man put his hands up and shakily felt his face. “I-I’m not sure.”
Calcifer said, “The most recent name he answered to was Percival.”
The man looked at Calcifer as if he wished Calcifer did not know this. “Did I?” he said.
“Then we’ll call you Percival for now,” Howl said. He turned the ex-dog round and sat him in the chair. “Sit there and take it easy, and tell us what you do remember. By the feel of you, the Witch had you for some time.”
“Yes,” said Percival, rubbing his face again. “She took my head off. I-I remember being on a shelf, looking at the rest of me.”
Michael was astonished. “But you’d be dead!” he protested.
“Not necessarily,” said Howl. “You haven’t gotten to that sort of witchcraft yet, but I could take any piece of you I wanted and leave the rest of you alive, if I went about it the right way.” He frowned at the ex-dog. “But I’m not sure the Witch put this one back together properly.”
Calcifer, who was obviously trying to prove that he was working hard for Howl, said, “This man is incomplete, and he has parts from some other man.”
Percival looked more distraught than ever.
“Don’t alarm him, Calcifer,” Howl said. “He must feel bad enough anyway. Do you know why the Witch took your head off, my friend?” he asked Percival.
“No,” said Percival. “I don’t remember anything.”
Michael was suddenly seized with the most exciting idea. He leaned over Percival and asked, “Did you ever answer to the name of Justin-or Your Royal Highness?”
Sophie snorted again. She knew this was ridiculous even before Percival said, “No, the Witch called me Gaston, but that isn’t my name.”

  “Don’t crowd him, Michael,” said Howl. “And don’t make Sophie snort again. In the mood she’s in, she’ll bring down the castle next time.”
Though that seemed to mean Howl was no longer angry, Sophie found she was angrier than ever. She stumped off into the shop, where she banged about, shutting the shop and putting things away for the night. She went to look at her daffodils. Something had gone horribly wrong with them. They were wet brown things trailing out of a bucket full of the poisonous-smelling liquid she had ever come across.
“Oh, confound it all!” Sophie yelled.
“What’s all this, now?” said Howl, arriving in the shop. He bent over the bucket and sniffed. “You seem to have some rather efficient week-killer here. How about trying it on those weeds on the drive of the mansion?”
“I will,” said Sophie. “I feel like killing something!” She slammed around until she had found a watering can, and stumped through into the castle with the can and the bucket, where she hurled open the door, orange-down, onto the mansion drive. Percival looked up anxiously. They had given him the guitar, rather as you gave a baby a rattle, and he was sitting making horrible twangings.
“You go with her, Percival,” Howl said. “The mood she’s in she’ll be killing all the trees too.”
So Percival laid down the guitar and took the bucket carefully out of Sophie’s hand. Sophie stumped out into a golden summer evening at the end of the valley. Everyone had been much too busy up to now to pay much attention to the mansion. It was much grander than Sophie had realized. It had a weedy terrace with statues along the edge, and steps down to the drive. When Sophie looked back-on the pretext of telling Percival to hurry up-she saw the house was very big, with more statues along the roof, and rows of windows. But it was derelict. Green mildew ran down the peeling wall from every window. Many of the windows were broken, and the shutters that should have folded against the walls beside them were gray and blistered and hanging sideways.
“Huh!” said Sophie. “I think the least Howl could do is to make the place look a bit more lived in. But no! He’s far too busy gadding off to Wales! Don’t just stand there, Percival! Pour some of that stuff into the can and then come along behind me.
Percival meekly did as she said. He was no fun at all to bully. Sophie suspected that was why Howl had sent him with her. She snorted, and took her anger out on the weeds. Whatever the stuff was that killed the daffodils, it was strong. The weeds in the drive died as soon as it touched them. So did the grass at the sides of the drive, until Sophie calmed down a little, the evening calmed her. The fresh air was blowing off the distant hills, and clumps of trees planted at the sides of the drive rustled majestically in it.
Sophie weed-killed her way down a quarter of the drive. “You remember a great deal more than you let on,” she accused Percival while he refilled her can. “What did the Witch really want with you? Why did she bring you into the shop with her that time?”

  “She wanted to find out about Howl,” Percival said.
“Howl?” said Sophie. “But you didn’t know him, did you?”
“No, but I must have known something. It had to do with the curse she’d put on him,” Percival explained, “but I’ve no idea what it was. She took it, you see, after we came to the shop. I feel bad about that. I was trying to stop her knowing, because a curse is an evil thing, and I did it by thinking about Lettie. Lettie was just in my head. I don’t know how I knew her, because Lettie said she’d never seen me when I went to Upper Folding. But I knew all about her-enough so that when the Witch made me tell her about Lettie, I said she kept a hat shop in Market Chipping. So the Witch went there to teach us both a lesson. And you were there. She thought you were Lettie. I was horrified, because I didn’t know Lettie had a sister.”
Sophie picked up the can and weed-killed generously, wishing the weeds were the Witch. “And she turned you into a dog straight after that?”
“Just outside the town,” said Percival. “As soon as I’d let her know what she wanted, she opened the carriage door and said, ‘Off you run. I’ll call you when I need you.’ And I ran, because I could feel some sort of spell following me. It caught up with me just as I’d got to a farm, and the people there saw me change into a dog and thought I was a werewolf and tried to kill me. I had to bite one to get away. But I couldn’t get rid of the stick, and it stuck in the hedge when I tried to get through.”
Sophie weed-killed her way down anther curve of the drive as she listened. “Then you went to Mrs. Fairfax’s?”
“Yes, I was looking for Lettie. They were both very kind to me,” Percival said, “even though they’d never seen me before. And Wizard Howl kept visiting to court Lettie. Lettie didn’t want him, and she asked me to bite him to get rid of him, until Howl suddenly began asking her about you and-”
Sophie narrowly missed weed-killing her shoes. Since the gravel was smoking where the stuff met it, this was probably just as well. “What?”
“He said, ‘I know someone called Sophie who looks a little like you.’ And Lettie said, ‘That’s my sister,’ without thinking,” Percival said. “And she got terribly worried then, particularly as Howl went on asking about her sister. Lettie said she could have bitten her tongue off. The day you came there, she was being nice to Howl in order to find out how he knew you. Howl said you were an old woman. And Mrs. Fairfax said she’d seen you. Lettie cried and cried. She said, ‘Something terrible has happened to Sophie! And the worst of it is she’ll think she’s safe from Howl. Sophie’s too kind herself to see how heartless Howl is!’ And she was so upset that I managed to turn into a man long enough to say I’d go and keep an eye on you.”
Sophie spread weed-killer in a great, smoking arc. “Bother Lettie! It’s very kind of her and I love her dearly for it. I’ve been quite as worried about her. But I do not need a watch dog!”
“Yes you do,” said Percival. “Or you did. I arrived far too late.”

  Sophie swung round, weed-killer and all. Percival had to leap into the grass and run for his life behind the nearest tree. The grass died in a long brown swathe behind him as he ran. “Curse everyone!” Sophie cried out. “I’ve done with the lot of you!” She dumped the smoking watering can in the middle of the drive and marched off through the weeds toward the stone gateway. “Too late!” she muttered as she marched. “What nonsense! Howl’s not only heartless, he’s impossible! Besides,” she added, “I am an old woman.”
But she could not deny that something had been wrong ever since the moving castle moved, or even before that. And it seemed to tie up with the way Sophie seemed to mysteriously unable to face either of her sisters.
“And all the things I told the King are true!” she went on. She was going to match seven leagues on her own two feet and not come back. Show everyone! Who cared that poor Mrs. Pentstemmon had relied on Sophie to stop Howl from going to the bad! Sophie was a failure anyway. It came of being the eldest. And Mrs. Pentstemmon had thought Sophie was Howl’s loving old mother anyway. Hadn’t she? Or had she? Uneasily, Sophie realized that a lady whose trained eye could detect a charm sewn into a suit could surely even more easily detect the stronger magic of the Witch’s spell.
“Oh, confound that gray-and-scarlet suit!” Sophie said. “I refuse to believe that I was the one that got caught with it!” The trouble was the blue-and-silver suit seemed to have worked just the same. She stumped a few steps further. “Anyway,” she said with great relief, “Howl doesn’t like me!”
This reassuring thought would have been enough to keep Sophie walking all night, had not a sudden familiar uneasiness swept over her. Her ears had caught a distant tock, tock, tock. She looked sharply under the low sun. And there, on the road which wound away behind the stone gate, was a distant figure with outstretched arms, hopping, hopping.
Sophie picked up her skirts, whirled around, and sped back the way she had come. Dust and gravel flew up round her in clouds. Percival was standing forlornly in the drive beside the bucket and the watering can. Sophie seized him and dragged him behind the nearest tree.
“Is something wrong?” he said.
“Quiet! It’s that dratted scarecrow again,” Sophie gasped. She shut her eyes. “We’re not here,” she said. “You can’t find us. Go away. Go away fast, fast, fast!”
“But why?-” said Percival.
“Shut up! Not here, not here, not here!” Sophie said desperately. She opened one eye. The scarecrow, almost between the gateposts, was standing still, swaying uncertainly. “That’s right,” said Sophie. “We’re not here. Go away fast. Twice as fast, three times as fast, ten times as fast. Go away!”
And the scarecrow hesitantly swayed round on its stick and began to hop back up the road. After the first few hops it was going in giant leaps, faster and faster, just as Sophie had told it to. Sophie hardly breathed, and did not let go of Percival’s sleeve until the scarecrow was out of sight.

  “What’s wrong with it?” said Percival. “Why didn’t you want it?”
Sophie shuddered. Since the scarecrow was out on the road, she did not dare leave now. She picked up the watering can and stumped back to the mansion. A fluttering caught her eye as she went. She looked up at the building. The flutter was from long white curtains blowing from an open French window beyond the statues of the terrace. The statues were now clean white stone, and she could see curtains at most of the windows, and glass too. The shutters were now folded properly beside them, newly painted white. Not a green stain nor a blister marked the new creamy plaster of the house front. The front door was a masterpiece of black paint and gold scrollwork, centering on a gilded lion with a ring in its mouth for a doorknocker.
“Huh!” said Sophie.
She resisted the temptation to go in through the open window and explore. That was what Howl wanted her to do. She marched straight to the front door, seized the golden doorknob, and threw the door open with a crash. Howl and Michael were at the bench hastily dismantling a spell. Part of it must have been to change the mansion, but the rest, as Sophie well knew, had to be a listening-in spell of some kind. As Sophie stormed in, both their faces shot nervously round toward her. Calcifer instantly plunged down under his logs.
“Keep behind me, Michael,” said Howl.
“Eavesdropper!” Sophie shouted. “Snooper!”
“What’s wrong?” Howl said. “Do you want the shutters black and gold too?”
“You barefaced-” Sophie stuttered. “That wasn’t the only thing you heard! You-you-How long have you known I was-I am-?”
“Under a spell?” said Howl. “Well, now-”
“I told him,” Michael said, looking nervously round Howl. “My Lettie-”
“You!” Sophie shrieked.
“The other Lettie let the cat out of the bag too,” Howl said quickly. “You know she did. And Mrs. Fairfax talked a great deal that day. There was a time when everyone seemed to be telling me. Even Calcifer did-when I asked him. But did you honestly think I don’t know my own business well enough not to spot a strong spell like that when I see it? I had several goes at taking it off you when you weren’t looking. But nothing seems to work. I took you to Mrs. Pentstemmon, hoping she could do something, but she evidently couldn’t. I came to the conclusion that you liked being in disguise.”
“Disguise!” Sophie yelled.
Howl laughed at her. “It must be, since you’re doing it yourself,” he said. “What a strange family you are! Is your name really Lettie too?”
This was too much for Sophie. Percival edged nervously in just then, carrying the half-full bucket of weed-killer. Sophie dropped her can, seized the bucket from him, and threw it at Howl. Howl ducked. Michael dodged the bucket. The weed-killer went up in a sheet of sizzling green flame from floor to ceiling. The bucket clanged into the sink, where all the remaining flowers died instantly.
“Ow!” said Calcifer from under his logs. “That was strong.”
Howl carefully picked the skull out from under the smoking brown remains of the flowers and dried it on one of his sleeves. “Of course it was strong,” he said. “Sophie never does things by halves.” The skull, as Howl wiped it, became bright new white, and the sleeve he was using developed a faded blue-and-silver patch. Howl set the skull on the bench and looked at his sleeve ruefully.

  Sophie had half a mind to stump straight out of the castle again, and away down the drive. But there was that scarecrow. She settled for stumping to the chair instead, where she sat and fell into a deep sulk. I’m not going to speak to any of them! she thought.
“Sophie,” Howl said, “I did my best. Haven’t you noticed that your aches and pains have been better lately? Or do you enjoy having those too?” Sophie did not answer. Howl gave her up and turned to Percival. “I’m glad to see you have some brain after all,” he said. “You had me worried.”
“I really don’t remember very much,” Percival said. But he stopped behaving like a half-wit. He picked the guitar up and tuned it. He had it sounding much nicer in seconds.
“My sorrow revealed,” Howl said pathetically. I was born an unmusical Welshman. Did you tell Sophie all of it? Or do you really know what the Witch was trying to find out?”
“She wanted to know about Wales,” said Percival.
“I thought that was it,” Howl said soberly. “Ah, well.” He went away into the bathroom, where he was gone for the next two hours. During that time Percival played a number of tunes on the guitar in a slow, thoughtful way, as if he was teaching himself how to, while Michael crawled about the floor with a smoking rag, trying to get rid of the weed-killer. Sophie sat in the chair and said not a word. Calcifer kept bobbing up and peeping at her, and going down again under his logs.
Howl came out of the bathroom with his suit glossy black, his hair glossy white, in a cloud of steam smelling of gentians. “I may be back quite late,” he said to Michael. “It’s going to be Midsummer Day after midnight, and the Witch may well try something. So keep all the defenses up, and remember all I told you, please.”
“All right,” Michael said, putting the steaming remains of the rag in the sink.
Howl turned to Percival. “I think I know what’s happened to you,” he said. “It’s going to be a fair job sorting you out, but I’ll have a go tomorrow after I get back.” Howl went to the door and stopped with this hand still on the knob. “Sophie, are you still not talking to me?” he asked miserably.
Sophie knew Howl could sound unhappy in heaven if it suited him. And he had just used her to get information out of Percival. “No!” she snarled.
Howl sighed and went out. Sophie looked up and saw that the knob was pointing black-down. That does it! she thought. I don’t care if it is Midsummer Day tomorrow! I’m leaving.  
  
    第19章狗人波西瓦
    近傍晚时，豪尔打开店门晃进来，边吹着口哨，他似乎已经由曼陀罗花根带给他的震惊中恢复过来。但是发现他没有去威尔斯，并未让苏菲觉得好过些。她给他最恶毒的一瞥。
    “我的天！”豪尔叫道：“我好像被那个眼光瞪成石头了！到底什么事？”
    苏菲张牙舞爪：“你穿的到底是哪套衣服？”
    豪尔低头看看身上的黑衣。“有关系吗？”
    “就是有！”苏菲吼道：“别跟我来什么‘守丧中’那一套！到底这是哪一件？”
    豪尔耸耸肩，拉起一边垂下的长袖，仿佛他自己也不太确定到底是哪一件。他望着袖子，露出困惑的表情，袖子的黑色开始由肩膀一路往下退，退到垂着的袖子尖端。他的肩膀与袖子上部先是变成褐色，然后转灰，尖尖的袖端则越来越黑，越来越像墨汁，直到那件黑衣的一只袖子变成蓝色和银色，尾端则好像在沥青桶里浸过。“就是这个。”说完，他让黑色又爬回肩膀。
    但是苏菲不知为何更加生气，无声地发着脾气。
    “苏菲！”豪尔用最带着笑意、恳求的语气唤她。
    狗人推开后院的门走进来。它从不肯让豪尔跟苏菲谈太久的话。
    豪尔盯着它瞧。“你又去搞了一只英国牧羊犬。”他说，好像很高兴能转移话题。“两只狗要吃掉不少东西的。”
    “只有一只，”苏菲生气地说：“它被下了咒。”
    “什么？”豪尔说着，对狗冲过去，速度之快显示他很高兴能离开苏菲。狗人当然不愿意，它往后退。豪尔扑过去，在它逃到门口前双手抓住两把长毛。“果然没错。”他蹲下来看进牧羊犬的双眼。“苏菲，”他问：“你什么意思？瞒着我这样的事？这狗是一个人呢！它的状况非常可怜！”他以一个膝盖做轴心转过来，手里仍抓着狗。苏菲看着豪尔玻璃珠似的眼睛，知道他在生气，而且是非常生气！
    很好！苏菲想找人好好吵一架。“是你自己没发现！”她瞪回去，想施放绿色粘液就来呀！她心里蓄意挑衅着。“何况，狗它自己不想……”
    豪尔气得不想听，他跳起来，将狗拖过地板。“如果我不是心里有事的话，早发现了。”他说：“过来，我要你来卡西法前面。”狗四只脚紧抓着地板，豪尔用力拉它，它死命撑着、滑着。“麦可！”豪尔大叫。
    那声吼叫里有种特别的东西，麦可听了飞奔而来。
    “你知道这只狗其实是人吗？”两人一起拉着这只奋力抗拒的大狗上楼时，豪尔问他。
    “不会吧！它？真的？”麦可张口结舌。
    “那我就不着你算帐，只找苏菲。”他们将狗拖过储物柜。“像这样的事永远都跟苏菲有关！但是，卡西法，你也知道吧？”两个人将狗拖到壁炉前时，豪尔问道。
    卡西法一直退到背部都考到烟囱了。“你从没问过。”
    “这种事还要我问吗？”豪尔怒道：“好吧，我是应该自己发现。但是你令我作呕！那女巫师怎么对待她的火魔的？相较之下，你的生活简直好的令人嫌恶。我唯一要求的回报是你告诉我，我需要知道的事。但是，这是你第二次辜负我了！现在，立刻帮我把这家伙变回原形！”
    卡西法的脸色变成不寻常的病恹恹的蓝色，悻悻然地说：“好啦！”
    狗人试着逃跑，但是豪尔将肩膀顶在它胸部用力推，令它以后腿站起来。他跟麦可就这样抓着它。“这笨蛋干吗一直抗拒？”豪尔气喘吁吁。“感觉上好像又是女巫的杰作，不是吗？”
    “是的，有好几层。”卡西法说。
    “把狗的部分先去掉吧。”豪尔说。
    卡西法高涨成一股吼叫的、深蓝色的焰火，苏菲站在储物柜的门口慎重看着。她看到长毛狗的形象在人的形象内消失，人又消失成狗，再变为人，然后是一片模糊，接着，影像逐渐具体化，最后，豪尔跟麦可各抓着一个穿着皱巴巴棕色套装，有赤黄色头发男子的一只臂膀。苏菲一点也不奇怪为何她没认出他来，因为虽然他脸上满是焦虑，但他的脸几乎完全没有个性。
    “好了，朋友，你叫什么名字？”
    这人举起双手，颤抖着摸自己的脸。“我……我不确定……”
    卡西法说：“最近一个他有反应的名字是波西瓦。”
    这人看着卡西法，仿佛他希望卡西法不知道似的。“是吗？”
    “那我们就暂时叫你波西瓦好了。”豪尔说完，将他转个身，按他坐下，“坐着，放轻松点，告诉我们你记得什么。由你的样子看来，你在女巫控制下已经有好一段时间了。”
    “是的，”波西瓦再度摸摸自己的脸，说：“她把我的头拿掉，我……我记得我在架子上，看着其余的自己。”
    麦可大吃一惊，抗议道：“可是那样你不就死了吗？”
    “不见得，”豪尔说：“你还没学到那个阶段的魔法。可是如果我够小心的话，我能够将你身上的任一部分取下来，让你其他部分仍活着。”他对这个先前是狗的人皱眉。“不过我不认为女巫把他拼回去时拚得很正确。”
    卡西法显然很努力要证明他一向为豪尔卖力工作，说：“这人不完全，而且他有一些零件是别人的。”
    波西瓦看来更苦恼了。
    “别吓他了，卡西法。”豪尔说：“他已经够难过了，朋友，你知道女巫为何把你的头拿掉吗？”他问波西瓦。
    “不知道，”波西瓦说：“我什么都不记得。”
    苏菲知道那不是真的，由鼻孔里哼了一声。
    麦可突然有一个令人非常兴奋的想法，他弯下腰问波西瓦说：“有没有人称呼你为贾斯丁或阁下过？”
    苏菲再次哼了一声，波西瓦还没有回答，她就知道这个假设很荒谬了。波西瓦说：“没有。女巫叫我格斯顿，但那不是我的名字。”
    “别逼问他了，麦可。”豪尔说：“也别再惹苏菲由鼻子里哼哼哈哈的，依她现在的心情，下一步她会把城堡拆了。”
    虽然那意味着豪尔似乎不再生气了，苏菲却觉得更气。她蹒跚地走到店里，把东西敲的震天响，然后关店，收拾东西。她走过去看那些喇叭水仙，它们显然发生很可怕的事，全都变为湿湿的褐色物体，垂在桶外。桶里则满是她所见过闻起来毒性最强的液体。
    “噢，该死的！”苏菲大叫。
    “又怎么了？”豪尔来到店里，问道，他弯腰闻一闻，说：“这好像是非常有效的除草剂。那大房子车道旁的杂草开刀，试试它的威力怎么样？”
    “我会的，”苏菲说：“我想杀些什么！”她四处翻得嘭嘭作响，终于找到一个洒水壶。她带着这个洒水壶和那桶除草剂进入城堡，用力打开门，桔色向下，去到大房子的车道。
    波西瓦台起头来，脸上透着焦虑。他们把吉他拿给他，就像给小孩拨浪鼓一样，他一直坐在那儿玩吉他，弄出可怕的噪音。
    “波西瓦，你去跟着她。”豪尔说：“依她现在的心情，搞不好所有的树都会跟着遭殃。”
    波西瓦放下吉他，将桶子小心翼翼地由苏菲手中接过来。苏菲走出大门，迎接她的是山谷尾段金黄色的夏日黄昏。截至目前为止，每个人都太忙，无暇顾及这间大宅，它比苏菲所知的还要壮观，外头有个杂草丛生的阳台，四周饰有雕像。由阳台可以走下车道。当苏菲回头想叫波西瓦走快些时，她发现这房子实在很大，沿着屋顶还有更多的雕像，然后是整排整排的窗户，但整个房子都荒废了。绿色的霉长满了每个窗口下剥落的墙，许多窗子都破了，而原该收好、靠在窗边的木板套窗都成了灰色，油漆都已斑驳。
    “哼！豪尔至少也该把这个地方弄得像样一点，像有人住的样子。可是没有！成天只知道忙着往威尔斯跑。波西瓦，别光站在那里！把那东西倒一些到洒水壶里，然后到我旁边来。”
    波西瓦顺从地照做了。凶这个人一点都不好玩，苏菲怀疑这就是为什么豪尔会要他跟过来的原因。她哼哼出声，把怒气出在杂草上，
    不论杀死喇叭水仙的到底是什么东西，它的毒性确实很强！车道上的杂草一碰到它就死，连车道旁的草皮都跟着遭殃，一直到苏菲情绪稍稍平复下来为止。
    是傍晚的气氛令她平静下来，新鲜的空气由远方的山丘吹拂过来，种在车道旁的树从随之飒飒作响。
    苏菲走了约莫车道的四分之一，边走边杀杂草。当波西瓦替她加满洒水壶时，她指责他：“你记得的远比你招供的多。女巫到底想由你那里得到什么？那次她为何带你到店里来？”
    “她想知道关于豪尔的事。”波西瓦回答。
    “豪尔？”苏菲问道：“可是你不是不认识他吗？”
    “不认识。但是我一定知道些什么，这应该跟她下在他身上的诅咒有关。”波西瓦解释道：“但是我不知道那是什么，我们到店里后被她拿到了，我觉得糟透了，试着阻止她，因为我知道咒语是邪恶的。当时我会那样做，也是因为想到乐蒂的缘故。乐蒂一直在我脑海里出现，我不知道我是怎么跟她认识的，因为后来当我去上福尔丁时，乐蒂说她从没见过我，但是我却知道所有跟她有关的事。因此，当女巫逼我告诉她关于乐蒂的事时，我说她在马克奇平开一家帽店。所以女巫就上那儿去，要给我们两人一点教训。结果你在那里，他以为你是乐蒂，我吓坏了，我根本不知道乐蒂有个姐姐。”
    苏菲拿起洒水壶，大量喷洒除草剂，心里只愿那些杂草就是女巫。“然后她就把你变成狗？”
    “才刚出城，”波西瓦说：“我一让她知道她想要的消息后，她就打开车门，说：‘跑吧！我需要时再叫你。’于是我开始没命的跑，因为我可以感觉到有某种咒语在追着我。那咒语在我刚跑到一个农场时追上我。农场上的人看到我变成狗，以为我是狼人，想要杀死我，我必须咬伤其中一个人才能逃开。但是我无法摆脱那根拐杖，我想穿过树丛时被它卡住了。”
    苏菲边听边洒除草剂。“后来你就去菲菲克斯太太那里？”
    “是的，我去找乐蒂。她们都对我很好，”波西瓦说：“即使她们从未见过我。豪尔巫师一直来追求乐蒂，乐蒂不喜欢他，要我去咬他好摆脱他。直到豪尔突然开始问她，有关你的……”
    苏菲差点把除草剂撒到自己的鞋子上，除草剂洒到石头，石头冒出烟来。“什么？”
    “他说：‘我认识一个叫苏菲的人，她跟你长得有点像。’乐蒂不假思索地回答说：‘那是我姐姐。’”波西瓦说。“后来，她开始非常担心，因为豪尔继续追问有关她姐姐的事，乐蒂说她恨不得咬掉自己的舌头。你来拜访那天，她正假意对豪尔好，以便发现他是如何认识你的。豪尔说你是个老妇人。菲菲克斯太太也说她有见到你。乐蒂哭了又哭，说：‘苏菲一定遭遇了可怕的事！更糟的是，她误以为豪尔不会对她构成威胁。她太善良了，不知道豪尔多么没心肝！’看到乐蒂那么悲伤，所以我努力变回人形，跟她说我会来保护你。”
    苏菲以大大的弧形、像烟雾般洒出除草剂。“亏她这么麻烦！她实在太好心了。我真是爱她！我也一直在为她担心。但是，我并不需要一只看门狗！”
    “你需要的。”波西瓦说。“或者，你当时需要。因为我来得太迟了。”
    苏菲一下子转过来，除草剂在手，波希瓦必须跳进草丛，拼命跑到最近的树后躲起来。他身后的草地变成一条长长的褐色。“诅咒每个人！”她大叫：“我再也跟你们没任何关系！”她将冒烟的洒水壶丢在车道中间，穿过杂草往石制的大门走去。“太迟了！”她一边大踏步一边喃喃地说：“什么鬼话！豪尔不仅没心肝，还令人无法忍受！此外，”她加上一句：“我还是个老妇人。”
    但是她无法否认，自从城堡搬家后，有些事开始变得不对劲，又或者在尚未搬家前就开始了？这和苏菲很奇怪地，一直无法去面对她的两个妹妹似乎也有关系。
    “我跟国王说的话都是真的！”她继续说。她会两脚都穿上七里格靴，一路走下去，不再回头，好让每个人知道！谁在乎可怜的潘思德曼太太说的——她依赖苏菲阻止豪尔往歧路上走。苏菲本身就是失败者了！这是因为身为老大的缘故，何况潘思德曼太太不过是错认她为豪尔慈爱的老母亲罢了。但是，事情真是这样吗？是或不是？苏菲不安地想到，如果她那训练有素的眼力可以看出缝在衣服里的迷咒，荒地女巫那么强烈的咒语当然更逃不出她的法眼。
    “噢，那件该死的灰红色衣服！”苏菲说：“我拒绝相信我自己会被迷倒！”问题时，那件蓝银色的衣服似乎也能产生同样的效果。她又往前走了几步。“总之，”她如释重负地说：“豪尔并不喜欢我！”
    但是这个令人安心的想法本身，就够她走上一整夜了，一阵不安的感觉突然袭上心头，她听到远处传来哆哆哆的声音，她就着将沉的夕阳极目探看，就在那儿——在石门后面的道路转弯处，远远地，有一个人形，手臂直伸着向前跳跳跳。
    苏菲拉起裙子，迅速转过身，循着来路飞快往回跑，激起的灰尘和小石在她身旁形成云雾，波希瓦孤单地站在车道上，脚旁躺着水桶和洒水壶。苏菲抓住她，将他拖到最近的树后。
    “有什么不对吗？”他问。
    “嘘！那个可怕的稻草人又来了。”苏菲喘着气，她闭上眼睛喃喃地说：“我们不在这里，你找不到我们。走开！很快很快很快地走开！”
    “为什么……”波希瓦问。
    “闭嘴！不在这里、不在这里、不在这里！”苏菲拼命地念念有词。她张开一只眼睛偷窥，稻草人差不多走到门柱中间了，它停了下来，不确定地转动着。“这就对了，”苏菲说：“我们不在这里。快快走开！两倍快、三倍快、以十倍快的速度走开！走——开！”
    稻草人迟疑地转过身，开始往回跳。跳了几下后，步伐开始加大加快，并且越来越快，正如苏菲希望的。苏菲屏息以待，紧抓着波西瓦的袖子，直到稻草人完全消失为止。
    “它有什么不对？”波西瓦问：“你为什么不要它？”
    苏菲全身发抖。既然稻草人就在路上某处，她就不敢离开了。她捡起洒水壶，走回大宅，边走着，她突然注意到有什么在飘动着，她抬起头来，看到阳台雕像后头敞开的法式窗子，有长长的白色窗帘在飘扬。雕像都变成干净的白色石雕，几乎每个窗户都挂上窗帘，并且装上了玻璃。木制的套窗都新上过白漆，好好地收在窗旁。屋前新刷上的白石膏上见不到一点绿斑或泡泡。前门更是个精心杰作——黑漆大门加上金色的蔓叶花饰，中间是只镀金的狮子，嘴里衔环，作为叩门之用。
    “赫！”苏菲非常惊讶。
    她抗拒从开着的窗子进去一探究竟的诱惑。豪尔就是要她这么做，她才不上当！她直接走向前门，抓住金色的门把，砰一下将门用力打开。豪尔跟麦可正在工作台忙着拆除一个咒语，其中一部分显然是用来改变大房子用的，但是其余的部分，就苏菲所知，是属于某种窃听咒。见到苏菲来势汹汹，两张脸都急忙抬起，紧张地看着她，卡西法则马上沉到木头底下。
    “麦可，你躲我后面。”豪尔说。
    “窃听者！”苏菲叫道：“窃人隐私者！”
    “哪里不对了？”豪尔问：“你希望木制套窗也是黑色搭配金色吗？”
    “你厚颜无耻……”苏菲开始结巴：“你听到的不止这些！你……你……你知道我……我是……有多久了？”
    “被下了咒？”豪尔说：“这个嘛……”
    “是我告诉他的，”麦可由豪尔身后探出头来，紧张地说：“我的乐蒂……”
    “你！”苏菲尖叫。
    “另一个乐蒂也说了，”豪尔很快地接口：“你知道她说了的，还有菲菲克斯太太那天也说了很多。有一阵子，几乎每个人都在跟我说这件事，甚至卡西法也——是我问它的。难道你真的认为我的能力不足以感知到那样强的魔咒吗？有好几次，当你没注意的时候，我试着要将那咒语解除，但是都没成功。我带你去潘思德曼太太那里，希望她能帮得上忙，但是，显然她也办不到。我的结论是，你喜欢维持这样的乔装。”
    “乔装！”苏菲叫道。
    豪尔笑起来。“一定是的，因为是你自己弄的，你们家人真是奇怪耶。你的真名是不是也叫做乐蒂呢？”
    这实在太过分了！波西瓦正好在此时紧张地由门口挤进来，手里提着半桶除草剂。苏菲放下手里的洒水壶，由他手中抓过水桶，对着豪尔扔过去。豪尔低下身体，麦可也躲开，除草剂在地板和天花板间造成一片绿色火焰。水桶落在水槽里，槽里剩下的花马上集体死亡。
    “哇！”卡西法在木头下惊叹：“好厉害！”
    豪尔小心地由仍然冒着烟的褐色花朵残骸下捡起骷髅头，并以他的一只袖子擦拭。“当然厉害了，”他说：“苏菲做事，向来都是倾全力的。”骷髅在他擦拭之下，变成明亮的白色，用以擦拭的袖子则出现一片褪色的蓝银色。豪尔将骷髅放下，悲伤地看着袖子。
    苏菲很想就这样走出去，走出城堡，走下车道。但是外头有稻草人！她只好选择走到椅子那里，坐下来，一个人生闷气。我再也不跟他们任何人说话了！她生气地想着。
    “苏菲，”豪尔说：“我尽力了。你有没有发现，最近你身上的疼痛已经好很多了？”苏菲没有回答。豪尔也没再尝试跟她说话，他转身跟波西瓦说：“我很高兴看到你还保留有一些脑袋，你让我蛮担心的。”
    “我真的记得不多。”波西瓦说。但是他不再继续扮傻瓜。他拿起吉他调弦，不一会儿，吉他声就变得很悦耳了。
    “我的悲伤因此显露无遗，”豪尔可怜兮兮地说：“我天生是没有音乐细胞的威尔斯人。你跟苏菲说的是全部了吗？你真的知道女巫想找的是什么东西吗？”
    “她想知道威尔斯。”波西瓦说。
    “我想也是这样。”豪尔冷静地说：“啊，好吧！”他走进浴室，一待就是两个小时。这段时间内，波西瓦慢慢思索着，以吉他弹奏出一些曲调，仿佛他在教自己如何弹奏。麦可则拿着一块冒烟的破布，在地上爬行，要抹干那些除草剂。苏菲坐在椅子上，仍是一言不发，卡西法不断探头出来偷偷看她，然后又沉入它的木头底下。
    豪尔由浴室出来时，衣服是光亮的黑色，头发则是光亮的白色，笼罩在散发出龙胆根香味的蒸汽里。“我可能很晚才回来，”他跟麦可说：“午夜过后就是仲夏日了，女巫可能会尝试些什么，所以所有的防卫系统都得启动。并且，记住所有我跟你说过的话，拜托！”
    “好的。”麦可说着，将手里剩下的冒烟破布放到水槽里。
    豪尔转身。“我想我知道你出了什么事。”他跟波西瓦说：“要帮你解除咒语并不简单，不过，我明天回来后将会开始进行。”豪尔走到门边，一手放在门把上，停下来问道：“苏菲，你还是不跟我说话吗？”声音中透着难过。
    苏菲知道只要情况需要的话，豪尔是连在天堂里都可以装可怜的，他不过是利用她来从波西瓦那里套取消息罢了。“不要！”她叫道。
    豪尔叹了口气，走出去。苏菲抬起头来，看到门把是黑色朝下。够了！她想着，我才不管明天是不是仲夏日，我要走人了！
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