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26 February 2007 11:12 amA wizard's battle is an entirely exhausting affair even when one is in the best of health: he's not and he's this far away from death's doorstep, so he's retreated to a familiar and comfortable form. After all, no one notices a stray cat crossing the road.
Unfortunately, Sophie's dog notices and chases him with reckless glee right to the castle doorstep. The cat turns, hissing. "Geroff! This is all I needed!" And all this on top of a cold!
At least the dog has the grace to back off and look guilty. Shrinking to the size of a kitten -- he's spent -- he gazes up critically at Sophie and Michael. "And you both look ridiculous! Open the door, I'm exhausted." Once inside, he makes his way to the chair by the hearth; Calcifer's flame is a mere blue flicker. Slowly, the cat by the chair becomes a human again, bent over nearly in two.
Michael rips off the cloak that's turned him into a horse for the duration. "Did you kill the Witch?" He's excited; he's got that rosy glow that comes from watching but not actually having to participate in an impressive battle.
"No." Collapsing into the chair, Howl turns to 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."
When she brings back the bottle he pours himself a glass and drinks it all down, then pours out a second glass. The contents of that one are dripped carefully onto Calcifer, who flares and brightens up a little. Good: reviving fire demons must be done with precision. The glass is filled a third time; he stretches back in the chair sipping the brandy at a far more respectable speed. "Don't stand staring at me! 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?"
If the brandy's warming him, it's also warming Calcifer. The fire demon's voice is still weak; he's hiding beneath 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!" They're both worn out; Calcifer fizzles a little before climbing up where Howl can see him. "You might have warned me!"
With a weary sigh, Howl waves his hand. "I did, you old fraud. You know everything I know."
Self-pity runs rampant in the castle today. Michael, apparently, is the only one with any sense of what to do; he prepares a quick lunch of bread and sausage. With the exception of the dog who stays subdued and humbled, they all start to perk up.
"This won't do!" Howl forces himself to his feet, dusting himself off: the battle is over and there's no clear winner, and that means they can't be complacent. "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."
Calcifer gives a huge intake of breath. "Move me?"
Well... yes, of course. "That's right. You have a choice between Market Chipping and the Witch. Don't go and be difficult." It's time to spring into action: moving a fire demon is such a delicate task. His mind jumps to runes and the practical trappings of the magic that has to be done next.
Calcifer, however, dives to the bottom of the grate. "Curses!"
Shaking his head, Howl reaches for the chalk: it's time for some very important calculations.
Unfortunately, Sophie's dog notices and chases him with reckless glee right to the castle doorstep. The cat turns, hissing. "Geroff! This is all I needed!" And all this on top of a cold!
At least the dog has the grace to back off and look guilty. Shrinking to the size of a kitten -- he's spent -- he gazes up critically at Sophie and Michael. "And you both look ridiculous! Open the door, I'm exhausted." Once inside, he makes his way to the chair by the hearth; Calcifer's flame is a mere blue flicker. Slowly, the cat by the chair becomes a human again, bent over nearly in two.
Michael rips off the cloak that's turned him into a horse for the duration. "Did you kill the Witch?" He's excited; he's got that rosy glow that comes from watching but not actually having to participate in an impressive battle.
"No." Collapsing into the chair, Howl turns to 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."
When she brings back the bottle he pours himself a glass and drinks it all down, then pours out a second glass. The contents of that one are dripped carefully onto Calcifer, who flares and brightens up a little. Good: reviving fire demons must be done with precision. The glass is filled a third time; he stretches back in the chair sipping the brandy at a far more respectable speed. "Don't stand staring at me! 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?"
If the brandy's warming him, it's also warming Calcifer. The fire demon's voice is still weak; he's hiding beneath 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!" They're both worn out; Calcifer fizzles a little before climbing up where Howl can see him. "You might have warned me!"
With a weary sigh, Howl waves his hand. "I did, you old fraud. You know everything I know."
Self-pity runs rampant in the castle today. Michael, apparently, is the only one with any sense of what to do; he prepares a quick lunch of bread and sausage. With the exception of the dog who stays subdued and humbled, they all start to perk up.
"This won't do!" Howl forces himself to his feet, dusting himself off: the battle is over and there's no clear winner, and that means they can't be complacent. "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."
Calcifer gives a huge intake of breath. "Move me?"
Well... yes, of course. "That's right. You have a choice between Market Chipping and the Witch. Don't go and be difficult." It's time to spring into action: moving a fire demon is such a delicate task. His mind jumps to runes and the practical trappings of the magic that has to be done next.
Calcifer, however, dives to the bottom of the grate. "Curses!"
Shaking his head, Howl reaches for the chalk: it's time for some very important calculations.
