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

Meanwhile, the visitors Sim had been trying to announce were already in the room. Waif killed the fawn-colored rabbit almost under the runners of the kobolds’ painted sled chair, which was being pushed by the Witch of Montalbino. Great-Uncle William, rather pale and thin but evidently much better, was propped on a pile of blue cushions inside the chair. He, and the Witch, and Timminz, who was standing on the cushions, all leaned over the chair’s carved blue side to watch Waif give a tiny snarl and toss the fawn-colored rabbit sideways by its neck and then, with another miniature snarl, hurl it across her back to land with a flump, dead, on the carpet.

“Good gracious!” said Wizard Norland, the King, Sophie, and Charmain. “I’d have thought Waif was too small to do that!”

Princess Hilda waited for the rabbit to land and sailed across to the sled chair. She ignored, grandly, the frantic rushing and scrambling as Waif chased the white rabbit round and round the room. “My dear Princess Matilda,” the Princess said, holding both hands out to Peter’s mother. “What a long time it is since we’ve seen you here. I do hope you mean to make us a long visit.”

“That depends,” the Witch said dryly.

“My daughter’s second cousin,” the King explained to Charmain and Sophie. “Prefers to be called the Witch of Somewhere usually. Always gets irritated if anyone calls her Princess Matilda. M

y daughter makes a point of it, of course. Hilda doesn’t hold with inverted snobbery.”

By this time, Wizard Howl had hoisted Morgan up onto his shoulders so that they could both watch as Waif cornered the white rabbit behind the fifth rocking horse along. There was some more tiny snarling. Presently the white rabbit’s corpse came flying out across the rockers, dead and limp.

“Hooray!” Morgan boomed, beating his fists on his father’s flaxen head.

Howl rather hastily hoisted Morgan down and handed him on to Sophie. “Have you told them about the gold yet?” he asked her.

“Not yet. The evidence got dropped on someone’s foot,” Sophie said, taking firm charge of Morgan.

“Tell them now,” Howl said. “There’s something else that’s strange here.” He bent down and caught Waif as she trotted back to Charmain. Waif squirmed and whined and craned and did everything she could to make it clear that it was Charmain she wanted to go to. “Shortly, shortly,” Howl said, turning Waif around in a puzzled way. Eventually he carried her over to the sled chair, where the King was jovially shaking Wizard Norland’s hand while Sophie showed the gold ingot to them. The Witch and Timminz and Princess Hilda all crowded round Sophie, staring and demanding to know where Sophie had found the gold.

Charmain stood in the middle of the room feeling quite left out. I know I’m being quite unreasonable, she thought. I’m just the same as I always was. But I want Waif back. I want to take her with me when they send me back home to Mother. It was obvious to her that Peter’s mother was going to look after Great-Uncle William now, and where did that leave Charmain?

There was a terrific crash.

The walls shook, causing Calcifer to shoot out of the fireplace and hover over Charmain’s head. Then, in very slow motion, a large hole opened in the wall beside the fireplace. The wallpaper peeled away first, followed by the plaster underneath it. Then the dark stones behind the plaster crumbled away and vanished, until nothing was left but a dark space. Finally, not in slow motion at all, Peter shot backward through the hole and landed lying in front of Charmain.

“Hole!” boomed Morgan, pointing.

“I think you’re right,” Calcifer agreed.

Peter did not seem in the least put out. He looked up at Calcifer and said, “So you’re not dead, then. I knew she was making a stupid fuss. She’s never sensible about things.”

“Oh, thank you, Peter!” Charmain said. “And when have you ever been sensible? Where have you been?”

“Yes, indeed,” said the Witch of Montalbino. “I’d like to know that too.” She pushed the sled chair right up to Peter, so that Great-Uncle William and Timminz were gazing down on Peter, along with everyone else, except for Princess Hilda. Princess Hilda was looking ruefully at the hole in the wall.

Peter did not seem worried at all. He sat up. “Hallo, Mum,” he said cheerfully. “Why aren’t you in Ingary?”

“Because Wizard Howl is here,” said his mother. “And you?”

“I’ve been in Wizard Norland’s workshop,” Peter said. “I went there as soon as I gave Charmain the slip.” He waved his hands with the rainbow of strings tied round his fingers to show how he got there. But he gave Wizard Norland a slightly anxious look. “I’ve been very careful in there, sir. Really.”

“Have you indeed?” said Great-Uncle William, looking at the hole in the wall. It seemed to be slowly healing up. The dark stones were closing gently in toward the middle of it and the plaster was growing across after the stones. “And what were you doing there for a whole day and a night, may I ask?”

“Divining spells,” Peter explained. “They take ages. It was lucky you had all those food spells in there, sir, or I’d have been really hungry by now. And I used your camp bed. I hope you don’t mind.” By the look on Great-Uncle William’s face, it was clear that he did mind. Peter added hurriedly, “But the spells worked, sir. The Royal Treasure must be here, where we all are, because I told the spell to take me to wherever it was.”

“And so it is,” said his mother. “Wizard Howl has already found it.”

“Oh,” said Peter. He looked very cast down. But then he brightened up. “I did a spell that worked, then!”

Everyone looked at the slowly healing hole. The wallpaper was now moving softly in across the plaster, but it was obvious that the wall would never be quite the same again. It had a soggy, wrinkled look.

“I’m sure this is a great comfort to you, young man,” Princess Hilda said bitterly. Peter looked at her blankly, obviously wondering who she was.

His mother sighed. “Peter, this is Her Highness Princess Hilda of High Norland. Perhaps you would be good enough to get up and bow to her and to her father the King. They are, after all, near relations of ours.”

“How come?” Peter asked. But he scrambled to his feet and bowed in a very mannerly way.