Howl's Moving Castle (Howl's Castle Book 1)

by Diana Wynne Jones

She read a great deal, and very soon realized how little chance she had of an interesting future.

To which Martha always retorted that she would end up disgustingly rich without having to marry anybody.

It was said the Witch had threatened the life of the King’s daughter and that the King had commanded his personal magician, Wizard Suliman, to go into the Waste and deal with the Witch. And it seemed that Wizard Suliman had not only failed to deal with the Witch: he had got himself killed by her.

So when, a few months after that, a tall black castle suddenly appeared on the hills above Market Chipping, blowing clouds of black smoke from its four tall, thin turrets, everybody was fairly sure that the Witch had moved out of the Waste again and was about to terrorize the country the way she used to fifty years ago.

But the castle stayed roving about the hills, and it was learned that it did not belong to the Witch but to Wizard Howl. Wizard Howl was bad enough. Though he did not seem to want to leave the hills, he was known to amuse himself by collecting young girls and sucking the souls from them. Or some people said he ate their hearts.

He was an utterly cold-blooded and heartless wizard and no young girl was safe from him if he caught her on her own.

That was one who would never attract even Wizard Howl, let alone a respectable man.

Sophie talked to hats more and more as weeks went by. There was no one else much to talk to.

“What made me think I wanted life to be interesting?” she asked as she ran. “I’d be far too scared.

“Oh, Lettie!” she said. “I am so glad to see you!” “Yes, and I’m glad you’re sitting down,” said Lettie. “You see, I’m not Lettie. I’m Martha.”

“You must do something about yourself, Sophie,” Martha panted as they went. “Lettie kept saying she didn’t know what would happen to you when we weren’t around to give you some self-respect. She was right to be worried.”

“I always bother when someone tries to set themselves up against the Witch of the Waste,” said the lady. “I’ve heard of you, Miss Hatter, and I don’t care for your competition or your attitude. I came to put a stop to you. There.”

She thought she saw a stick, a mile or so on, but when she hauled on it, it proved to be the bottom end of an old scarecrow someone had thrown into the hedge. Sophie heaved the thing upright. It had a withered turnip for a face. Sophie found she had some fellow feeling for it.

“Well, why not?” she said to her stick. “Wizard Howl is not likely to want my soul for his collection. He only takes young girls.”

In fact, if Sophie had not seen him at that moment carefully pouring green fluid out of a crooked flask onto black powder in a bent glass jar, she would have taken him for the son of a prosperous farmer. How odd!

“She’s got all her teeth. She’s not the Witch of the Waste, is she?” “I wouldn’t have let her come in if she was,” the fireplace retorted.

“How did she make Calcifer bend down?” said Howl. “She bullied me!” Calcifer said in a piteous, muffled voice from under the sizzling pan.

“Howl’s not wicked,” Michael said. “Yes I am,” Howl contradicted him. “You forget just how wicked I’m being at the moment, Michael.”

It was odd. As a girl, Sophie would have shriveled with embarrassment at the way she was behaving. As an old woman, she did not mind what she did or said. She found that a great relief.

“If the red blob leads to Kingsbury and the blue blob goes to Porthaven, where does the black blob take you?”

“That leads to my private bolt hole and you are not being told where it is.”

Since nobody explained where Howl had gone, Sophie concluded he was off to hunt young girls again and got down to work with more righteous vigor than ever.

“Howl, stop her! She’s killing us both!” But all Howl said, when Michael let go of him, was “Did you kill any spiders?”

“You’re a dreadfully nosy, horribly bossy, appallingly clean old woman. Control yourself. You’re victimizing us all.”

You’ll find every spell of power has at least one deliberate mistake or mystery in it to prevent accidents.

“It’s heartless and pointless.” “He’s made that way,”

On the other hand, it is quite a risk to spank a wizard for getting hysterical about his hair.

Sophie’s experience told her that tantrums are seldom about the thing they appear to be about.

How can she have another fellow after all this attention I’ve given her? They usually get rid of the other fellows as soon as I come along.”

“I think of her all the time,” he said. “Lovely, lovely Lettie Hatter.”

“What is all right?” “Lettie loves me!”

“The day Howl forgets to do that will be the day I believe he’s really in love, and not before.”

“Look at you all!” he said. “Ruin stares me in the face. I slave all day for you all. And not one of you, even Calcifer, can spare time to say hello!”

“Is something wrong?” asked Sophie. “That’s better,” said Howl. “Some of you are pretending to notice me at last.

“I’ll make some hot buttered toast,” she said. “Is that all you can do in the face of tragedy?” Howl asked. “Make toast!

“I think we’d better skip seeing the King. I’ll go and blacken my own name when I make your excuses. I can say my wicked ways have made you ill. That could be true, from the look of you.”

“Help me, someone! I’m dying from neglect up here!”

“I’m dying of boredom,” Howl said pathetically. “Or maybe just dying.”

“I shall die and then you’ll all be sorry,”

“Go to bed, you fool,” Calcifer said sleepily. “You’re drunk.” “Who, me?” said Howl. “I assure you, my friends, I am cone sold stober.”

“I’m the eldest!” Sophie shrieked. “I’m a failure!” “Garbage!” Howl shouted. “You just never stop to think!”

Howl said, “I think we ought to live happily ever after,” and she thought he meant it.

“It should be hair-raising,” added Howl. “And you’ll exploit me,” Sophie said.

“Don’t bother me now,” said Howl. “I only did it for the money.” “Liar!” said Sophie.