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

“Oh, hallo, Charming,” Princess Hilda said, more or less in Charmain’s ear. “Would you like some cake, since you’re here?”

Charmain shot a regretful look at the cake and inhaled its luscious smell instead. “No thank you, ma’am,” she said. “I only came with a message for…er…Mrs. Pendragon, you see.” Where was Calcifer?

“Well, there she is, just over there,” Princess Hilda said, pointing. “I must say the children are behaving beautifully at the moment. Long may it last!”

She swished away to offer another finely dressed person some cake. For all its swishing, her dress was nothing like as fine as the others in the room. It was faded almost white in places and reminded Charmain rather of the laundry after Peter had worked his bleaching spell. Oh, please don’t let Peter try any spells on those lubbock eggs! Charmain prayed as she walked over to Sophie.

“Hallo,” Sophie said, smiling rather tensely. Beyond her, Twinkle was rocking on the rocking

horse, going creak-creak-creeak, quite irritatingly. The fat nursemaid was standing beside him going, “Master Twinkle, pray do get down from there. You’re making such a noise, Master Twinkle. Master Twinkle, I don’t want to have to tell you twice!” Over and over. This was probably even more irritating.

Sophie knelt down and passed Morgan a red brick. Morgan held the brick out toward Charmain. “Boo bick,” he told her.

Charmain knelt down too. “No, it isn’t blue,” she said. “Try again.”

Sophie murmured out of the side of her mouth, “Glad to see you. I don’t care for this prince at all, do you? Nor for that overdressed floozie with him.”

“Urple?” Morgan guessed, holding the brick out again.

“I don’t blame you,” Charmain whispered to Sophie. “No, it’s not purple, it’s red. But the prince is purple, or his eyes are. He’s a lubbockin.”

“A what?” Sophie said, puzzled.

“Dead?” asked Morgan, looking at his brick disbelievingly. Creak-creeak, went the rocking horse.

“Yes. Red,” said Charmain. “I can’t explain here. Tell me where Calcifer is—I’ll explain to him and he can tell you. I need Calcifer urgently.”

“Here I am,” Calcifer said. “What do you need me for?”

Charmain looked round. Calcifer was roosting among the flaming logs in the fireplace, mingling his blue flames with the orange ones from the logs and looking so peaceful that Charmain had quite failed to notice him until he spoke. “Oh, thank goodness!” she said. “Can you come with me at once to Wizard Norland’s house? We’ve got an emergency there that only a fire demon can deal with. Please!”

Chapter Thirteen

IN WHICH CALCIFER IS VERY ACTIVE

Calcifer’s orange eyes turned to Sophie. “Do you need me to keep guard here still?” he asked her. “Or can you manage with just the two of you?”

Sophie gazed worriedly out at the well-dressed, chattering crowd. “I don’t think anyone’s going to try anything just now,” she said. “But come back quickly. I have a horrible foreboding feeling. I don’t trust that mauve-eyed fellow an inch. Or that nasty prince either.”

“All right. Quick it is,” Calcifer crackled. “Stand up, young Charming. I’m going to sit on your hands.”

Charmain got to her feet, expecting to be burned—or at least singed—any moment. Morgan objected to her going by waving a yellow brick at her and raising a booming shout of “Geen, geen, geen!”

“Shush!” Sophie and Twinkle said together, and the fat nursemaid added, “Master Morgan, we don’t shout, not here in front of the King.”

“It’s yellow,” Charmain said, waiting for all the staring faces to turn away. She was beginning to see that none of the fine guests knew that Calcifer was part of the fire, and that Calcifer wanted to keep it that way.

As soon as everyone lost interest and turned back to their chatter, Calcifer hopped up out of the fire and landed just slightly above Charmain’s nervous fingers in the exact likeness of a plate of cake. He did not hurt a bit. In fact, Charmain could scarcely feel him.

“Clever,” she said.

“Pretend to hold me,” Calcifer replied, “and walk out of the room with me.”

Charmain curled her fingers round the false plate and walked toward the door. Prince Ludovic, to her relief, had moved away, but the King was coming toward her instead. He nodded and smiled at Charmain.

“Got yourself some cake, I see,” he said. “Good, isn’t it? Wish I knew why we have all these rocking horses. Don’t happen to know, do you?”

Charmain shook her head, and the King turned away, still smiling. “Why do we?” Charmain asked. “Have all these rocking horses?”