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

There was blazing sunlight beyond, blazing on very green, very beautifully kept grass, with a blindingly white garden path beyond that. The path led up between trees that had been carved into knobs and points and cones and disks, like a lesson in geometry, to a small storybook palace—one that had many small pointed towers with little blue roofs. Charmain recognized it as Castel Joie, where Crown Prince Ludovic lived. She was slightly ashamed to realize that it was the building she always thought of when any book she was reading mentioned a palace.

I must be very unimaginative, she thought. Then, No. Whenever her father made shortbreads to sell in boxes for May Day, a picture of Castel Joie always appeared on the top of the box. Castel Joie was, after all, the pride of High Norland. No wonder it was so far to walk! she thought. We must be halfway down the Norland Valley here! And it still is my idea of a perfect palace, so there!

Footsteps crunched on the hot, white path and Prince Ludovic himself appeared, magnificent in white and azure silk, sauntering toward the palace. Just before he was level with the bush where Charmain was, he stopped and turned. “Come along, can’t you!” he said angrily. “Get a move on!”

“We’re trying, Highness!” piped a small panting voice.

A line of kobolds trudged into view, each bowed down under a knobby leather sack. They were all more grayish green than blue and looked most unhappy. Some of the unhappiness may have been due to the sunlight—for kobolds preferred to live in the dark—but Charmain thought their color looked more like bad health. Their legs wobbled. One or two were coughing badly. The last one in the row was so unwell that he stumbled and fell down, dropping his sack, which spilled a scatter of gold coins across the blazing white path.

At this, the colorless gentleman strode into view. He advanced on the fallen kobold and started kicking him. He did not kick particularly hard, nor did he look particularly cruel: it was more as if he was trying to get a machine going again. The kobold scrambled about under the kicks, desperately picking up gold coins until he had them all back in the sack, and managed to stagger to his feet again. The colorless gentleman left off kicking him and came to stroll beside Prince Ludovic.

“It’s not as if it was even a heavy load,” he said to the Prince. “It’s probably the last. They’ve no more money left, unless the King sells his books.”

Prince Ludovic laughed. “He’d rather die than do that—which suits me, of course. We’ll have to think of some other way to get money, then. Castel Joie is so dashed expensive to run.” He looked back at the trudging, wobbling kobolds. “Move along there, will you! I have to get back to the Royal Mansion for tea.”

The colorless gentleman nodded and strode back to the kobolds, ready to start kicking again, and the Prince waited for him, saying, “Mind you, if I never see another crumpet in my life, it will be too soon for me!”

The kobolds saw the colorless gentleman coming and did their best to hurry. All the same, it seemed an age to Charmain until the procession was out of sight and she could no longer hear their footsteps crunching. She kept her arms tight round the throbbing Waif, who seemed to want to jump down and chase the procession, and looked down through the leaves at Timminz.

“Why haven’t you told anyone about this before? Why didn’t you at least tell Wizard Norland?”

“Nobody asked,” Timminz said, looking injured.

No, of course nobody asked! Charmain thought. This was why Rollo was paid to make the kobolds angry with Great-Uncle William! He’d have got round to asking them in the end, if he hadn’t beenill. She thought it was just as well that the lubbock was dead. If it was Prince Ludovic’s parent, as Timminz had said, then it had probably meant to kill the Crown Prince and rule the country instead of him. It had more or less told her so, after all. But that still leaves Prince Ludovic to deal with, she thought. I really have to tell the King about him.

“It seems a bit hard on those kobolds,” she said to Timminz.

“It is,” Timminz agreed. “But they have not asked for help yet.”

And of course it never occurred to you to help them without being asked, did it? Charmain thought. Honestly! I give up! “Can you show me the way home?” she asked.

Timminz hesitated. “Do you think the fire demon will be glad to know the money goes to Castel Joie?” he asked.

“Yes,” Charmain said. “Or his family will.”

Chapter Fifteen

IN WHICH THE CHILD TWINKLE IS KIDNAPPED

Timminz, rather grudgingly, took Charmain the long, confusing way back to the kobolds’ cave. There, he said cheerfully, “You’ll know the way from here,” and disappeared inside the cave, leaving Charmain alone with Waif.

Charmain did not know the way from there. She stood beside the object that Timminz had called a sled chair for several minutes, wondering what to do and watching kobolds painting and carving and upholstering the object and never sparing Charmain a glance. At length, it occurred to her to put Waif down on the ground.

“Show me the way to Great-Uncle William’s house, Waif,” she said. “Be clever.”

Waif trotted off with a will. But Charmain soon began seriously to doubt that Waif was being clever. Waif trotted, and Charmain walked, and they turned left, and then right, and right again, for what seemed hours. Charmain was so busy thinking about what she had discovered that, several times, she missed the moment when Waif turned left or right and had to wait, standing in the near-dark, shouting, “Waif! Waif!” until Waif came back and found her. Quite probably, Charmain doubled the distance like this. Waif began toiling and panting, with her tongue hanging out longer and longer, but Charmain did not dare pick her up in case they never got home at all. She talked to Waif instead, to encourage them both.

“Waif, I must tell Sophie what has happened. She must be worrying about Calcifer by now. And I must tell the King about the money too. But if I go to the Royal Mansion as soon as I get home, horrible Prince Ludovic will be there, pretending to like crumpets. Why doesn’t he like them? Crumpets are nice. Because he’s a lubbockin, I suppose. I don’t dare tell the King in front of him. We’ll have to wait to go until tomorrow, I think. When do you think Prince Ludovic means to leave? Tonight? The King did tell me to come back in two days, so Ludovic should be gone by then. If I get there early, I can speak to Sophie first—Oh, dear! I’ve just remembered. Calcifer said they were going to pretend to leave, so we may not find Sophie there. Oh, Waif, I wish I knew what to do!”

The more Charmain talked about it, the less she knew what to do. In the end, she was too tired to talk, and just stumbled after the pale shape of the limping, panting Waif, pattering along in front of her. Until at long last, Waif barged a door open and they were in Great-Uncle William’s living room, where Waif gave a moan and fell over on her side, breathing in hundreds of quick little gasping breaths. Charmain stared out of the windows at the hydrangeas all pink and purple in sunset light. We’ve been all day, she thought. No wonder Waif’s so tired! No wonder my feet hurt! At least Peter should be home by now, and I do hope he’s got supper ready.

“Peter!” she sh

outed.

When there was no answer, Charmain picked Waif up and went into the kitchen. Waif feebly licked Charmain’s hand in gratitude for not having to walk a step farther. Here the sunset light was falling on the zigzags of pink and white washing, still hanging gently flapping in the yard outside. There was no sign of Peter.

“Peter?” Charmain called.