House of Many Ways (Howl's Moving Castle 3)

Doesn’t surprise me, Charmain thought.

“Anyway,” said Peter, “I got to a place where there were hundreds of kobold ladies all washing teapots and stacking food on trays for breakfasts and teas and things. And I was a bit nervous of them, because of the way you’d annoyed them over the hydrangeas, but I tried to look pleasant as I went by and nodded and smiled and things. And I was really surprised when they all nodded and smiled back and said ‘Good morning’ in a perfectly friendly way. So I went on nodding and smiling and walking past, until I came to a room I hadn’t seen before. As soon as I opened the door, the first thing I saw was that vase of flowers sitting on the front of a long, long table. The next thing I saw was Wizard Norland, sitting behind the table—”

“Good gracious!” said Charmain.

“It surprised me too,” Peter admitted. “I just stood there and stared, to tell the truth. He looked quite healthy—you know, strong and pink, and he had a lot more hair than I remembered—and he was busy working on the chart that was in the suitcase. He had it all spread out along the table and he’d only filled in about a quarter of it. I suppose that gave me a clue. Anyway, he looked up and said, quite politely, ‘Would you mind closing the door? There’s quite a draft.’ Then before I could say anything, he looked up again and said, ‘Who on earth are you?’

“I said, ‘I’m Peter Regis.’

“That made him frown. He said, ‘Regis, Regis? Does that make you some relation of the Witch of Montalbino, perhaps?’

“‘She’s my mother,’ I said.

“And he said, ‘I didn’t think she had any children.’

“‘She only has me,’ I said. ‘My dad was killed in a big avalanche at Transmontain just after I was born.’

“He frowned some more and said, ‘But that avalanche was only last month, young man. They’re saying that a lubbock set it off and it certainly killed a lot of people—or are we talking about the avalanche forty years ago?’ And he looked very stern and disbelieving at me.

“I wondered how I could make him believe what had happened. I said, ‘I promise it’s true. Some of your house must go back in time. It’s where the Afternoon Teas disappear to. And—this should prove it—we put that vase of flowers on the trolley the other day and it came back here to you.’ He looked at the vase, but he didn’t say anything. I said, ‘I came here to your house because my mother arranged for me to be your apprentice.’

“He said, ‘Did she indeed? I must have been wanting to oblige her quite badly then. You don’t seem to me to have any remarkable talent.’

“‘I can do magic,’ I said, ‘but my mother can arrange anything when she wants to.’

“He said, ‘True. She has a remarkably forceful personality. What did I say when you turned up?’

“‘You didn’t,’ I said. ‘You weren’t there. A girl called Charmain Baker was looking after your house—or she was supposed to be, but she went off and worked for the King and met a fire demon—’

“He interrupted me then, looking shocked. ‘A fire demon? Young man, those are very dangerous beings. Are you telling me that the Witch of the Waste will be in High Norland before long?’

“‘No, no,’ I said. ‘One of the Royal Wizards in Ingary did for the Witch of the Waste nearly three years ago now. This one was something to do with the King, Charmain said. I suppose she’s only just born from your point of view, but she said you were ill and the elves carried you off to cure you and her Aunt Sempronia arranged for Charmain to look after the house while you were gone.’

“He looked quite upset about this. He sat back in his chair and blinked a bit. ‘I have a great-niece called Sempronia,’ he said, sort of slowly and thinking about it. ‘This could be so. Sempronia has married into a very respectable family, I believe—’

“‘Oh, they are!’ I said. ‘You should just see Charmain’s mother. She’s so respectable she doesn’t let Charmain do anything.’”

Thank you very much, Peter! Charmain thought. Now he thinks I’m a complete waste of space!

“But he wasn’t really interested,” Peter went on. “He wanted to know what had made him ill and I couldn’t tell him. Do you know?” he asked Charmain. Charmain shook her head. Peter shrugged and said, “Then he sighed, and said he supposed it didn’t matter, because it seemed to have been unavoidable. But after that, he said, quite pathetically and all puzzled, ‘But I don’t know any elves!’

“I said, ‘Charmain said it was the King who sent the

elves.’

“‘Oh,’ he said, and he looked much happier. ‘Of course it would be! The royal family has elf blood—several of them married elves and the elves do keep up the connection, I believe.’ Then he looked at me and said, ‘So this story begins to hang together.’

“I said, ‘Well it should do. It’s all true. But what I don’t understand is what you did to make the kobolds so angry with you.’

“‘Nothing, I assure you,’ he said. ‘Kobolds are my friends, they have been for years. They do a great many tasks for me. I would no more anger a kobold than I would anger my friend the King.’

“He seemed annoyed enough about this that I thought I’d better change the subject. I said, ‘Then can I ask you about this house? Did you build it or find it?’

“‘Oh, found it,’ he said. ‘Or at least I bought it when I was quite a young, struggling wizard, because it seemed small and cheap. Then I found it was a labyrinth of many ways. It was a delightful discovery, I can tell you. It seems once to have belonged to a Wizard Melicot, the same man who made the roof of the Royal Mansion appear to be gold. I have always hoped that, somewhere inside this house, there is hidden the actual gold that was in the Royal Treasury at the time. The King has been looking for that for years, you know.’

“And you can guess how that made me prick up my ears,” Peter said. “But I never got to ask any more, because he said, looking at the vase on the table, ‘So these are really flowers from the future, then? Do you mind telling me what sort they are?’

“I was quite astonished he didn’t know. I told him they were hydrangeas from his own garden. ‘The colored ones the kobolds cut off,’ I said. And he looked at them and murmured that they were quite magnificent, particularly the way they were so many different colors. ‘I shall have to start growing them for myself,’ he said. ‘They have more colors than roses.’