"Diana Wynne Jones - Howl's Moving Castle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jones Diana Wynne)

said, half to herself and half to Michael.
"It beats me," said Michael. "But I think he goes by Calcifer. Most people who come in here either don't
notice Calcifer, or they're scared stiff of him."

6: In which Howl expresses his feelings with green slime
Howl did not go out that day, nor for the next few days. Sophie sat quietly in the chair by the hearth,
keeping out of his way and thinking. She saw that, much as Howl deserved it, she had been taking out
her feelings on the castle when she was really angry with the Witch of the Waste. And she was a little
upset at the thought that she was here on false pretenses. Howl might think Calcifer liked her, but
Sophie knew Calcifer had simply seized on a chance to make a bargain with her. Sophie rather thought
she had let Calcifer down.
This state of mind did not last. Sophie discovered a pile of Michael's clothes that needed mending. She
fetched out thimble, scissors, and thread from her sewing pocket and set to work. By that evening she
was cheerful enough to join in Calcifer's silly little song about saucepans.
"Happy in your work?" Howl said sarcastically.
"I need more to do," Sophie said.
"My old suit needs mending, if you have to feel busy," said Howl.
This seemed to mean that Howl was no longer annoyed. Sophie was relieved. She had been almost
frightened that morning.
It was clear Howl had not yet caught the girl he was after. Sophie listened to Michael asking rather
obvious questions about it, and Howl slithering neatly out of answering any of them. "He is a
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slitherer-outer," Sophie murmured to a pair of Michael's socks. "Can't face his own wickedness." She
watched Howl being restlessly busy in order to hide his discontent. That was something Sophie
understood rather well.
At the bench Howl worked a good deal harder and faster than Michael, putting spells together in an
expert but slapdash way. From the look on Michael's face, most of the spells were both unusual and
hard to do. But Howl would leave a spell midway and dash up to his bedroom to look after something
hidden-and no doubt sinister-going on up there, and then shortly race out into the yard to tinker with a
large spell out there. Sophie opened the door a crack and was rather amazed to see the elegant wizard
kneeling in the mud with his long sleeves tied behind his neck to keep them out of the way while he
carefully heaved a tangle of greasy metal into a special framework of some kind.
That spell was for the King. Another overdressed and scented messenger arrived with a letter and a
long, long speech in which he wondered if Howl could possibly spare time, no doubt invaluably
employed in other ways, to bend his powerful and ingenious mind to a small problem experienced by
His Royal Majesty-to whit, how an army might get its heavy wagons through a marsh and rough
ground. Howl was wonderfully polite and long-winded in reply. He said no. But the messenger spoke
for a further half-hour, at then end of which he and Howl bowed to one another and Howl agreed to do
the spell.
"This is a bit ominous," Howl said to Michael when the messenger had gone. "What did Suliman have
to get himself lost in the Waste for? The King seems to think I'll do instead."
"He wasn't as inventive as you, by all accounts," Michael said.
"I'm too patient and polite," Howl said gloomily. "I should have overcharged him even more."
Howl was equally patient and polite with customers from Porthaven, but, as Michael anxiously pointed
out, the trouble was that Howl did not charge these people enough. This was after Howl had listened for
an hour to the reasons why a seaman's wife could not pay him a penny yet, and then promised a sea
captain a wind spell for almost nothing. Howl eluded Michael's arguments by giving him a magic
lesson.
Sophie sewed buttons on Michael's shirts and listened to Howl going through a spell with Michael. "I