In the coastal town of Porthaven a massive amount of fanfare accompanied the departure of the local Naval Flotilla, the people of Porthaven put on a regatta as the five sisters of the Royal Sovereign Class of Dreadnoughts steamed out of the harbour mouth and towards the high, and presumably as well, the low seas, the enemy after all, could be anywhere.

The fun only lasted the first half of the day. As everyone got back to their lives. The Mayor and a Port Policeman trudged up the steep hill to a house on the crest. The words painted over the door said,

The GREAT WIZARD JENKINS

The Mayor knocked on the door.

A knocking on the door stirred Sophie. Her eyes opened to a view of the ceiling. Another trio of banging made her jump, causing her muscles to groan in agony. She slumped, annoyed, before sitting up. Her back clicked like a wooden ruler vibrating on a desk. She glanced at the door. Who could be up in the Waste? Scarecrows can't knock, Turnip-Head didn't look as if he could, or at least, not with the booming power of whoever's outside right now anyway.

As she wondered what to do fast footsteps sound from upstairs. She looked to the stairs. A lanky pair of small legs dressed in red long socks rushed along the visible gap in the banisters. Not in a dress, so it couldn't be Sal. Sophie leaned back and pretended to remain asleep, she didn't want to argue, not while she still tried to wake up.

A thirteen-year-old boy dressed in a green waistcoat, shorts, and looking almost ready to grow out of them, with a purse attached to his belt, and orange bowtie, hair slightly messed, rounded the stairs and the table, but then stopped at the old woman snoring in the chair. "Hey," he approached her, "Who's this lady?"

The bang continued. Calcifer popped up from the almost burnt log and said, "Porthaven door." The boy then looked at the door with more urgency, rushed past the old lady and to the table. "How did she get in here?" he asked.

Sophie narrowly opened her eyes to watch.

The boy, who looked only a little old than Martha, pulled a dark blue cloak off the table, causing some items, like a few pieces of paper she saw Sal working on last night, a rolled-up scroll or two and a pestle with mortar, to fall, or indeed launch off and onto the floor. Ignoring this the boy clasped the robe together and lifted the hood. Suddenly a long thick grey beard grew out of the hood and the boy walked to the door and down the steps. "Standby." He said, making his voice deeper. He reached up and turned the doorknob. Clicks sounded, above the door a wheel divided into six coloured sections. Blue, green, red, grey, orange and black.

Currently an arrow pointed to the green. But as the knob turned, so did the wheel, stopping on the blue. The little half-circle window above the door suddenly illuminated with sunlight. He swung the door open. A man with a top hat and sash stop outside, a man in dark blue, a policeman most likely stood behind him. The boy continued his charade. "Mr Mayor good day."

Mayor? He couldn't be the Mayor of Market Chipping, different moustache, slightly overweight, and with medal. The current Mayor of Market Chipping happened to be a gentleman farmer, not some retired military officer. This Mayor addressed the masquerading minor, "Good afternoon sir. Would the Great Wizard Jenkins be at home?"

Afternoon? How long did she sleep? It would explain how someone as young as the Mayor, a fellow of forty or so, could have made it to the Waste. To think, she added, a couple of days ago I'd have seen him as an old man. How one's point of view alters. Great Wizard Jenkins? A third wizard? Or perhaps the Wilbert fellow Sal mentioned, she didn't say his surname.

The boy answered the Mayor, "I'm afraid that my Master is out right now. I speak for him in his absence."

Feeling herself more awake Sophie leaned up again. Suffering a crick in the neck.

Meanwhile, the Mayor of wherever unveiled a letter. "An invitation from His Majesty the King," he announced. The boy took the letter as the Mayor continued, "The time for war is upon us! His Majesty requires that every witch and wizard in the Kingdom aid our homeland. Wizard Jenkins must report to the Palace immediately. That is all."

So, Sophie thought getting up. Strangia did declare war on Ingary, so focused on herself yesterday she didn't really consider the international situation. Somewhat confused about the Mayor and this Wizard Jenkins, Sophie, grabbing her stick to stand up, decided to put some more logs on the fire to speak with Calcifer, and to warm her bones. As well, she could start looking for hints, though as Calcifer said, the agreement between Howl and him meant he couldn't reveal it outright, maybe asking in a roundabout way would make him let slip.

Still, having to live for about a month in the Castle of the dreaded Wizard Howl, with a war going on, and needing to get help from a fire demon. "I can't believe it's come to this."

"And," the boy said, his voice still as false as his beard, currently parted by the letter, "what do you think you doing here Grandma?"

Sophie looked to the fire. "Calcifer said that I could come in," the demon jumped up between the logs and protested, "I did not! She just wondered in here from the Waste."

"She's from the Waste?" the boy asked. He pushed the beard back and let the hood drop, returning to the young, and to Sophie, kind of cute boy, just on the verge of growing up. "How do we know she's not a witch?"

"Do you really think I'd let a witch in here?" Calcifer then looked upstairs before turning back. "At least without Howl or Wilbert's word on their character."

Another knock came on the door. Before Calcifer could say anything, Sal called from upstairs, "That'll be Mr Soak with the milk!" as Sophie looked up to the gap between the ceiling and the stairway. Sal ran fast with her dress hiked up to do so. In the gaps Sophie saw a pair of ankle high boots and caught above them, fishnet stocking?

As Sal came down she fiddled and set a pocket watch, counting the number of seconds, the chain going into one of many pockets of her baggy dress. Sophie now wonder what else hid itself underneath the dress, and under her bangs too. Sal, put her watch back into her pocket and, discreetly lowered herself, no doubt to hide her chosen under attire from the boy, to reach under the table, and between the stools. She pulled out a milk bottle holder, complete with a few empties. She then descended the steps and turned to doorknob. This time to the grey setting. She opened it.

Immediately a smell entered the room. Sophie cringed and held her nose hard.

The boy nodded. "I know, it's the nasal equivalent of a foghorn."

Sophie heard such a description before, in the context then, it defined the smell of Ankh-Morpork. And yes, it illustrated what she smelt perfectly. But, how could it be the smell of Ankh-Morpork? The Castle travelled about the upper regions of the Folding Valley and the Waste.

Logically, she theorised, adding in the appearance of the Mayor, the Castle must have trudge to area of Octarine Grass Country where, firstly, Howl's reputation did not even make an appearance, never mind proceed him, allowing them to be near enough to a town so both the Mayor and a milkman to arrive and secondly somewhere in the Ramtops where the unpredictable magics either opened a portal to allow the smell of Ankh-Morpork to pass through or managed to replicate the smell itself.

When Sal closed the door Sophie never felt so relieved in her life. No sooner did Sal move away from the stairs then a bell rang.

Calcifer grumbled. "Porthaven door again." Sal squeaked and quickly returned upstairs, taking the fresh milk with her.

The boy looked to the door as he hid the letter in a large book, full of writing Sophie would never hope to recognise or understand and containing dozens of bookmarks. As he shut the book on the letter he theorised, "Must be a customer," he replaced the hood and beard and returned to the door, repeating his words and the actions from before. The wheel returned to blue. Sophie hesitated, expecting the smell to come back. The boy opened the door. But no horrible smell, instead she smelt salt and steam.

A little girl stood at the door. The boy addressed her. "Yes, my dear child?"

"My Mom sent me to pick up a spell."

Now confused, Sophie tried to get a view from out the door. Where did the smell go? Even by Ramtop level of inexplicable events a smell as, well, full of life, microscopic life anyway, couldn't disappear in only an instant. And come to think of it, her second thoughts told her, she didn't remember seeing a doorbell of any kind, pull or otherwise, on Castle backdoor.

Before she could get any decent picture of what lay beyond the door, besides a cobblestone road, the boy nodded. "Ah yes, do come in," and shut the door behind the girl. As the boy passed Sophie he muttered, "Just keep quiet and don't cause any trouble Grandma."

How rude, Sophie thought. The girl meanwhile stood just atop the steps, looking at her with some confusion. Sophie, still baffled about the door, looked past the little girl and now truly noticed the window on the left side of doorway, acting as the main source of light. Her second thoughts returned and reminded her of the outside of the Castle, no windows sat at this level of the Castle, nor if they did, they wouldn't be positioned in the same direction of the door. She quickly hobbled over to this, to her anyway, out of nowhere window. The view between the frames showed a few houses, but more importantly, the sea stretching on to the horizon. Suddenly Sophie remember Calcifer say the name Porthaven twice, she ignored the demon, thinking him a trickster, as Porthaven lay on the coast of the Rim Ocean, almost the opposite side of the Kingdom. But now, she saw it for her own eyes. "It's not the Waste?"

"Excuse me Granny?" Sophie remembered the little girl as she continued her innocent questioning, "Are you a witch too?" it made her think of the games she played with Lettie and Martha, and so she played with the girl. "That's right," she said. "I'm the scariest witch of them all!" the girl giggled, Sophie smiled, so adorable, the old nursery rhythm is right, little girls are made of sugar, spice and everything nice.

The boy, living up the snip in said nursery rhythm, cut the fun by presenting a little envelope to the girl. "Dust your ship with this powder and the wind will favour it." The girl gave over a few coins and said her thanks. The boy and Sophie went to the door and watched her leave. "Farewell child," the boy said as she opened the door, pressing on a handle beneath the knob and existed into the sea breeze of Porthaven. As soon as the door closed the boy turned to Sophie. "Quit telling lies to our customers."

How could puppy dogs' tails be so rude? Sophie thought, before she replied, "What about you? You're wearing a disguise," the boy put the coins in his purse and answered, "I have to," he pulled back his hood and the beard shrank and disappeared into his top lip, "I'm practising my magic," his reply did not really answer her point.

The bell rang again. Calcifer called over, "It's the Kingsbury door," as Sophie glanced back, the boy put his disguise on once more and descended to the door. This time he turned the knob on the door to the red setting. When this time he pulled it open, a young man in military dress stood on a pavement, which then travelled about a yard after and then dropped and left a brick road. The man nodded. "Good day. Is this the residence of the Great Wizard Pendragon?"

Pendragon now? Wizard Howl, Wilbert, Jenkins and Pendragon? Well, the Castle looked big enough from the outside to house at least four wizards and any servants they needed.

The boy meanwhile answered the man, "It is?"

"I bare a message from His Majesty the King," the man gave another letter over before continuing, "Please inform Mr Pendragon that all witches and wizards are required to report for duty at the Palace."

Sophie, wondering if she heard Calcifer right about Kingsbury made her way down the steps. The boy looked up at the man. "I will inform him right away," the man bowed his head and turned around, just as Sophie reached the bottom of the stairs and beheld the sight before her.

The man walked onto the road and climbed aboard a steam carriage, with a coat of arms on its door. Other steam vehicles trundled behind it as the carriage itself steamed away. Sophie glanced up at the towering architecture and most notably the castle on the hill and the cluster of aeroplanes in the cloudy sky, and the heat too. How it could be she didn't know, but neither did she know how with Porthaven either, she just awed. "This is Royal City isn't it?"

"Move it Grandma!" the boy yelled. "Or you'll lose your nose!" Sophie's second thought remerged and wanted to give the boy a good talking to about respecting his elders, and even without the spell, Sophie would still be his elder. But her first thought did their best to memorise the view of the capital, and the third thoughts reminded the second, of the fact Sophie is technically an intruder. So, she backed into the room and the boy shut the door. He turned to the steps and gave her an order, "And stop wondering around."

Sophie decided not the wonder, so she remained at the door, she wanted some answers. She glanced back at the boy as he disappeared, she also noticed Sal coming back down the steps, and still carry the milk bottles from earlier, none of them gave her much attention. So, she studied the doorknob. She gave it a twist, a small circular window showed the colours, for some reason the colours skipped the black and fixed on the green. A slicing sound and click came from above, Sophie glanced up seeing the colour wheel also stationed itself on green. She pressed down on the handle below the knob and pulled the door open.

A breeze caught her shawl and she gazed out at the fog filled, somewhere, the horizon of vision ended about a hundred feet away. She glanced from side to side up and around, seeing part of the Castle, so somewhere in the Waste. Without any real reference she decided to go back inside and try another colour. Not wanting to contend with the smell again just yet, she turned it to blue, laughing a little at having figured it out.

Sure enough, as she stepped out she found herself in Porthaven. To her right a man stood selling newspapers with the headline simply proclaiming:

WAR

And to her left a crusty man sitting at the wall of the house smoking a pipe. Other people milled about the cobbled street, so she went back inside again. Now she felt so excited she also felt able to withstand the smell. She turned the knob to grey and opened the door once more.

The smell hit her, just as hard as before, and yes, it still smelled supernaturally ghastly, but having been subjected to it, she most certainly knew what to expect. She stepped out. Before her lay a jumble of tightly packed semi-half-timbered and semi-brink-built houses, many in the process of going from half-timbered to brinks. Narrow dead-end streets and twice as many people, and modern thinking included dwarfs, trolls, goblins and the undead as people, something Sophie well and truly agreed with, on this one street than she saw in Porthaven and Kingsbury only a minute ago put together.

Sophie also never saw so many vehicles, traffic formed a gridlocked que, she followed the line of carriages, horse-drawn and steam, lorries and carts, and the occasional Troll Taxi. It should be noted the trolls do not drive the taxies, they are the taxies, carrying up to four humans in comfortable enclosed seating slung all over its body, in return for an agreed fare. Previously they went under the term Sedan Chair, but recently introduced regulations to coincided with steam carriages and lorries meant any vehicle of a certain weight and height must use the roads. This only result in more Troll Taxies appearing in Ankh-Morpork as the increase in fare prices meant the younger and stronger trolls could earn a living.

Along with the road traffic, human-powered Sedan Chairs, the tops of dwarf ones peaked over the garden walls, cyclist either sharing the pavement with pedestrians and worked their way through the gaps in the jam. As Sophie's eyes traced down the slow-moving line something monumental caught her eye. A tower. This short description carried a lot of meaning. Pretty much the most towering tower to ever tower. Twisted and gnarled like yellow yew tree. At the top a crenulated cathedral like assembly of small turrets and other battlements.

Even in Market Chipping, people talk of Unseen University and its ancient Tower of Art, eight-hundred feet tall, with eight-thousand eight-hundred and eighty-eight steps, fabled to be the oldest building in Ankh-Morpork, and some speculate it is older than the Disc itself, although evidence for this is scarce, and no one is willing to dig around it to find out. But still, this conformed to Sophie, the grey colour led to the Twin City of proud Ankh, and pestilent Morpork. She then re-examined the street and found the sign:

Elm Street

The Shades

City of Morpork

She heard a gate shut and looked forward. An unassuming individual, who momentarily paused to drag the tails of his coat out from being trapped by the gate and walked up the path. Sophie heard a squeak behind her and some rummaging. The person stood at the doorway and smiled at Sophie. Heeled boots tapped down the steps and Sal's arm stretched out over Sophie's head. Her hand gripped a neat file. The stranger nodded and took it. Silently he walked away.

Sal gave a sigh and stepped backed away. Sophie closed the door, now she wanted to know where the other two went. Failing to contain her laughter she tried to turn it to the black, but it kept escaping from her. Above her the boy called down annoyed, "Leave it alone Grandma. I'm getting angry,"

Grinning Sophie looked up. "This is a magic house isn't it?", the boy gave a groan. She turned back and look up at him directly. "So, tell me, where do the others lead?", the boy turned and walked away. "Only Master Howl knows where the black one goes."

Sal nodded. "He's the only one who can control the black doorway. As for the orange one," she shuffled around Sophie, "Uh, if you could?", Sophie nodded and moved out Sal's way, as Sal reached for the knob Sophie asked, "Who was that outside? And the file?"

"Oh, uh," Sal stammered, "That was, Inspector Donn Widget," her hand reached into her hair and scratched the back of her ear. "He, uh, is Head of the, uh, Cable Street Particulars,", Sophie just blinked. Sal whimpered, "The, uh, Secret Police of, the Ankh-Morpork City Watch, we're, Wilbert and I, are, uh, members of them, the file was one of our reports."

Sophie decided not to pry any further into the Cable Street Particulars, encase she got locked up for asking to many questions.

Sal meanwhile returned to the door and twisted the knob to its orange setting. The door opened to a flight of slightly crocked and twisted steps descended thought the middle of a walled herb and vegetable garden, complete with a henhouse, meeting a field within a forest clearing stretched before her. A clear clearing in fact, aside from a few standing stones, nothing, no stumps or seedling tree of any kind stood beyond the circumference. The trees just didn't seem to want to grow any further in. A dusty and earthy pathway lead up to the door, it divided and went into the forest one way, and up a mountain the other. The forest continued down a hill and lead to a village tucked in between a couple of very tall and suddenly vertical mountains.

Sal stretched out her hands to present it, though the presentation did falter at her shaking, like Sophie as a young girl, Sal seemed to possess a wide area of personal space. "My, steading. Mad Stoat, uh, in Lancre."

Sophie blinked. "Steading? Lancre," she turned to the girl and asked amazed, "You're a witch?", Sal's visible eye glanced away, she nodded. "Not one of the best. I'm, uh, a better, uh, well, quack doctor than a witch."

The boy called over, "Don't sell yourself short Sal, you're a great Research Witch, that's probably why Queen Magrat and Mistress Nitt agree to have you take over. Remember the King of Copperhead agreed too," even without seeing Sal's face Sophie could tell the young witch blushed.

The boy walked over to a dresser filled with food and pulled open a draw. "I need some breakfast, I'm starved," the draw, which fought back, contained a half-used loaf of bread. On top of the dresser sat a plate holding a large wedge of cheese and big and full basket of eggs, behind them a silver domed platter, and fruit and vegetables all scattered about. The boy took the loaf and the cheese.

Sophie approached and pulled the platter out, she lifted the dome to discover a load of bacon, she turned to the boy as he went to the cluttered table. "Don't you want some bacon and eggs?"

As the boy pushed the jumble of things, skull included, down the table to make some space, he answered, "Yeah, but we can't use the fire, Master Howl's not here," Sal nodded as she made a wide berth around the fireplace, "Wilbert tends to have breakfast at the University, and I make myself meals in the cottage," she pointed back to the door, still set to orange.

Sophie raised an eyebrow. "Where exactly our we? The inside of Castle I mean,"

Calcifer spoke up, "We're in the Castle, the insides only about the size a three-storey house," he turned to Sal. "I still don't know how Wilbert managed to get it here from the Foggy Islands, that's way over next to Fourecks."

Sophie blinked. XXXX, the Terror Incognita, used to be considered, up until about twenty years ago, a myth. Until one Professor Rincewind of Unseen University got into a slightly botched long-distance transport spell and ended up on it. In the years since University has kept a health relationship with the native wizards and have exchanged students on occasion. Wilbert must have been an exchange student, but to get a house from the area to the Waste, something like six-thousand miles? This Wilbert must be very powerful.

Just then, Sophie's stomach growled. It occurred to her she didn't have any dinner last night, in fact any meal beyond the bread and cheese she ate before meeting Turnip-Head. And the Mayor of Porthaven said good afternoon to the boy, as well as being breakfast time in Ankh-Morpork.

At the same time, the colour wheel sounded. Everyone turned as it settled on grey. Sophie held her nose as it opened. In walked in a wizard. From afar you could recognise him as a wizard, but closer you found a very different wizard. Generally, wizards are very well fed, having at least four-square meals a day while doing nothing but studying magic, they like to wear pointy hats, boots with curled points, and velvet robes with a lot of mystic sigil embroidery and have long beards.

To begin with, the one at the door did not have a beard, or indeed facial hair of any kind, this all got translated into a soft glowing white waterfall of hair stopping at his shoulder blades.

By his caped sleeveless overcoat, this wizard would have to be called "the Tartan", in this case, red, black and white, Sophie understood Unseen University wizards generally wore red and no longer wore robes, instead adopting and adapting current fashion to be accepted better in society. The wizard slung the coat off to show underneath a full black evening dress suit, a tail and waistcoat penguin suit, without any embroidery, mystical or otherwise. A pair of aviator goggles hanging around his neck covering his shirt collar, but through the lenses Sophie saw no tie or cravat. Under his white gloved hands, more specifically his finger, Sophie noticed ring shaped bulges. One on the ring finger of his left hand, causing her to glance to Sal's engagement ring briefly, the other middle right.

His shoes did go to a point, but they didn't curl. The gossip in the hat shop called this fashion style winkle pickers. And speaking of points, his hat. Sophie figured it did have a point, more of a pinch though, he did not wear the stereotypical tall, probably held up by some wired structure, conical, almost comical, wizard's, and witch's hat, no, he wore a Fedora, and a black one.

Finally came the man's body structure. Wizards generally looked like small hill. So, focused on the wizardry she forgot to look at the man. Thankfully age meant she, physically, reacted to him differently than she would have as an eighteen-year-old. With his handsome and slightly equine face, combined with his hair and structure, he looked like a destrier warhorse transfigured into a man.

Sal turned and leaned to Sal and whispered. "You are quite a lucky girl," Sal gave a happy sigh and nodded shallowly.

The only thing to really showcase his wizardry he held in his hand. His staff. Only slightly taller than him. Sycamore, with an elaborate ornament on the top. A rampant unicorn with wings. As his removed his tartan coat he swiftly switched it between gloved hands to take his sleeves out. He bunched up the coat and climbed the step with a smile. "Morning all!"

Sal walked up and embraced him, softly, the side of her head pressed into his chest. With equal softness of her hug she said, "Hi Wilbert," the wizard's face softened as he leaned down and kissed Sal on the head. Though this care surprised Sophie, it made some sense. A person as big and strong as Wilbert didn't need to be violent, he could merely pick up two men fighting and hold them a part until they stopped struggling. "Hello Sal," he said sweetly. "Everything all right today?", she nodded with a humming confirmation before letting him go.

Sophie then noticed something, only since it disappeared. The two seemed to occupy their own two-person universe.

Wilbert then looked at Sophie and his eyes narrowed. "And who are you madam?"

Sophie became quite rigid and tongue-tied. This Wilbert did not quite fit the image she thought last night. Although, she thought, he probably didn't fit into any image people have of wizards.

Sal saw Sophie struggling to speak. "Oh, uh, this is Sophie, she, uh, came in last night from the Waste looking for help from either you or Mr Howl," Wilbert raised his head with an "Ah," and nodded "I see," he looked about ready to say more when Sal's stomach growled. She squeaked and pressed herself into Wilbert.

Sophie sighed with a smiled "There's nothing to be scared off, it's just an empty stomach," her stomach growled too. Chuckling she shuffled over to the firing pans hanging on the wall. "Don't worry I can cook," she then hooked the basket of eggs with her arm and took the place of bacon, before hobbling over to Calcifer.

The boy called over. "It doesn't matter if you can cook, Calcifer only obeys Master Howl."

Wilbert nodded. "I did try some of the language in the Mallificarum Sumpta Diabolicite Occularis Singularum, the Book of Ultimate Control, but no, the contract between him and Howl is a lot more binding than the most thoroughly done magic circle. I don't think even Mr Slant could find a loophole."

Calcifer flared. "That's right lady, I'm not taking any orders from you," he blew a raspberry as Sophie put the basket and the plate on the chair, humming to herself. As she did put it down she saw something on the floor. "Oh, there's my hat," suffering a few stiff groans she picked it up and place it behind the basket and propped her stick on the top rail of the chair. She took the pan and rolled up her shawl. "All right Calcifer. Let's get cooking."

"I don't cook!" crackled the fire demon in protest. "I'm a scary, all powerful fire demon!" once again he stuck out his tongue. Sophie smiled at the childish display. "How would you like a bucket of cold water in your face?" she then leaned on as close as the heat allowed and whispered, "Or maybe I should tell Howl about our bargain?"

This whipped at Calcifer. "Stupid me," then he spat, "I never should have should have let her in here!" Sophie pushed the pan at him. "So, what will it be?" Calcifer did his hardest to push the pan away, but the pressure, both in weight and in anxiousness forced him to bow his head under the pan. Sophie smiled. "That's right, that's a good fire," she began placing slices of bacon onto the sizzling pan. Calcifer managed to poke eyes and mouth out from underneath. "He's another curse, may all your bacon burn."

Sal giggled. Wilbert hummed and raised an eyebrow. "Did Calcifer just say, another curse?", as Sophie glanced back, Sal spoke up, "Uh, yes, that's why she needs help, someone cursed her,", Sophie blinked. "You know?", Sal nodded. "Witches train to see the world for what it really is, not what people want to see. You're a girl younger than me but cursed to be an old woman."

Wilbert narrowed his eyebrows and spoke, "Judging from the design and style of the curse, I'm not going to be able to break it, different magic," Sophie nodded. "Then I'll find a way of breaking it," Calcifer huffed.

The boy meanwhile blinked. "Calcifer's doing what she says…" Sophie returned to the pan but suggested. "I think I'd like some tea too. Do you have a kettle?"

"Sure," the boy nodded and got down from his stool. Passing the still standing and thoughtful Wilbert and Sal, who started clearing the table. Calcifer yelled at him, "Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing? Don't get the kettle!" he spat as the boy search the sink full of unwashed pots and pans. Sophie shuddered at the pink and grey slime in it and the white slim dripping from the pump above it. The fire roared at the boy, "Markl! Markl! What are you doing?"

Markl? Thought Sophie, an unusual name, though it does sound right for a wizard.

Suddenly all talk stop as the colour wheel spun to black. Markl looked to the door as he pulled up the kettle. The door opened to a black void, and, Sophie blinked. The man from May Day staggered in. In the excitement of their first meeting she never got a good look at him fully. Here he looked a real fop, flamboyant with a pink and grey diamond patterned suit slung over his shoulders, not even held by his arms, he held a small harp in his hand, made of an almost golden wood, and shaped like a dragon's head. Markl walked up and greeted him, "Master Howl,"

Good gracious! Sophie's inner thoughts said collectively, Wizard Howl is only a child in his twenties? It made such a difference to be old, she thought as she turned the bacon over in the pan. She would rather die than let this overdressed boy know she'd been the girl he took pity on during May Day. And hearts did not enter the equation. Her second thoughts declared Howl would never know, the others agreed.

Markl continued, "The King's messengers were here," Howl shut the door and the wheel returned to the Ankh-Morpork setting. As he went to the stairs Markl carried on, "They said to report to the Palace, as both Pendragon and Jenkins."

So, Sophie thought as she turned to him, Howl uses both names. Her eyes darted back to the statue like Wilbert, then what about him?

Howl approached, something compelled him to put the harp next to the skull, he bought them together, they just seemed to fit together, and observed the scene at the fireplace. He glanced at the lady making herself busy, then turned with bemusement to the fire demon. "Calcifer? You're being so obedient," the fire demon flared, "Not on purpose! She bullied me!"

"No just anybody can do that." He returned to newcomer. "And you are, who?"

Sophie remembered she needed an excuse. In daylight the room, which Sophie now knew to be most probably the largest room of the few rooms in the Castle, looked amazingly dirty, the floorboards stained and greasy, on top of the mound of ash in the fender and the webs of silk, both intricate nets and cob varieties, hung in the droops of the beams. She glanced at Sal and Wilbert, with their work as a witch, a wizard and both as secret police they wouldn't have time to clean the place. A spark of inspiration hit her. She looked to Howl and smiled. "You can just call me Grandma Sophie, I'm your new cleaning lady, I just started work today,"

Howl looked away for her, but leaned in. "Give that to me," Sophie whimpered as the young man's body pressed into hers, she shuffled aside as he took the panhandle and the spoon she used to move the strip of bacon about, his smooth and silky hand connecting for a moment. As her thought argued with each other she backed away. Howl then gave an order, "Hand me two more slices of that bacon, and six of the eggs," he then paused and turned to Sal "Do you and Wilbert want anything?"

"Oh," Sal flinched "well, uh, I could do with some breakfast, I'll get the milk for the tea," she turned to Wilbert. Who still stood eyes narrowed and serious. He looked like a statue, one of those good ones by the Ancient Ephebian sculptors or Leonard of Quirm. She tried not to imagine the wizard with nothing but a fig leaf, Sophie did not want to suffer the consequences of annoying another magic user.

Still, Sal smiled and rolled her eyes, she reached up and tapped his shoulder, almost having to tiptoe. Wilbert flinched. "What?" he turned to Sal, she pointed to Howl, Wilbert flinched again. "Oh Howl, sorry," he rubbed the back of his neck. "I was miles away there."

Howl chuckled. "Same as ever eh Wilbert?" he flipped the bacon. "Do you want something to eat?"

Wilbert shook his head. "No thank you. I already eat at the University," and he proceeded to help Sal clear the table. Howl nodded. "Okay then. Sophie, will you pass me three slices of bacon and eight eggs then, please," he picked up the pan and turned to her, being careful not to spill too much greasy. Sophie turned flustered and glanced between the firing pan and the food on the chair. Quickly she picked up three slices of the bacon and plonked them on the pan, they started sizzling instantly. Howl moved the pan back over Calcifer. Sophie then picked through the eggs, handing them to Howl one at a time, the wizard managed to crack each one singlehandedly, lightly tapping them on the stone of the hearth, once the white and yolk fell onto the pan he gave the eggshells to Calcifer. Much to Sophie's amazement and slightly disgust, the fire demon happily ate them.

"So then," Howl asked after cracking the fourth egg, "Who hired you to clean?"

Sophie decided to give a half-truth, "Uh, Calcifer did. He's disgusted by how dirty it is in here," Howl gave a hum, then he turned to the boy. "Markl get the plates," he walked over to the table.

As Sophie watched, Calcifer jumped in his logs. "Wait second? You're all going to eat while I do all the work!" he grew large in his anger. Sal shrieked and buried herself into Wilbert's back, Wilbert himself steeled and glared down at the fire demon. "What work? For the moment you not moving the Castle and keeping the water hot is simple once you understand the plumbing. And no, I'm not going to eat. I agree with Absentee Mr Tugelbend," a long-term student wizard from Wilbert's first year at Unseen University, when he arrived at the age of seven, Victor Tugelbend disappeared during Exams Week the same year, not long after the investment of Archchancellor Mustrum Ridcully. "It's less effort to do things with decent muscles than achieving them while dragging around rolls of fat and flab. Makes it much easier to perform magic,"

As the fire demon grumbled, Markl called over, "Come have some breakfast Sophie," divided between Calcifer's plight, the need to lay low around Howl and her hunger, Sophie shuffled to the cleaner table as Sal brought the teapot and the milk over. Howl and Wilbert pushed and stacked a few books to make extra room as Markl cleaned a plate. "Have seat," with his foot he pulled out a stool. As she sat down, next to the skull and the harp, Howl put a slice of bacon and a pair of eggs on one of the plates, Wilbert talked with him, "I'm afraid there's still no updates on Imp y Celyn, he just disappeared after Sheepridge, the Guild of Musicians is getting quite worried, with their Guild Leader missing people are going to start asking questions, Lord Vetinari most of all,"

Sophie nodded internally, everyone on the Disc knew of Havelock Vetinari and his icicle like pragmatism.

Howl shrugged. "Why would you assume I've looked for him?"

"It seemed like something you would do, I thought you might know something," Wilbert then went to put his coat and staff down somewhere. Howl didn't answer, he just puts the food on the plates and gave them to the expectant eaters. When Sophie got her plate and after Markl hurriedly poured some tea, spilling a bit around the saucer-less cup, she bushed some of the dust off the table. Markl then presented some cutlery. "Which do you want? You only get one cause the rest are dirty," Sophie took one of the spoon and wiped the small bit of grim from it, what did this household call dirty? "Looks like I've my work cut out for me."

Howl shut his eyes and sliced the loaf of bread left on the table. He offered a slice to his fellow dinners. He put the loaf down. Wilbert sat beside Sal, now with a newspaper. He looked at the front page and sniffed. "Miss Cripslock must have had a day off judging by the headline,"

Sophie looked at the header,

The Ankh Morpork Times

The Truth shall make Ye Free

The headline read,

Man spends 11 hours trying to make one cup of tea with Wi-Pry connected kettle

From gossip over the years Sophie heard the wizards of Unseen University's Thaumatological Park developed a magically powered semaphore system to compete with the Grand Trunk, Wi-Pry begin short for Wizard Precision, with the addition of bad Ankh-Morpork spelling, and true to anything with magic, it didn't go well.

Before Sophie could ask further on this story Howl finished setting the table and breakfast. "So, friends," he announced, picking up his cup, "Enjoy. Bon Appetit," Markl repeated it excitedly. "I can't remember the last time we had a real breakfast!" he quickly dug into his food with more enthusiasm than etiquette, practically sucking one of his fried eggs into his mouth.

Wilbert blinked from over the paper. "There isn't a time limit you know Markl,"

Sophie sighed. "Even the manners are a mess in this house," as she did her best to spoon out her egg Howl spoke up, "So, what do you have hidden in your pocket Sophie?" this caused Sophie to stop before taking her bite. "Huh?" she asked, as the yolk slipped off her spoon. She felt her left pocket. Something roughly square and flat brushed against the cloth. She pulled out a folded piece of red paper. "What is this?" she mused lightly examining it.

"Give it to me," Howl said, in a quiet demanding tone. Not knowing what else to do Sophie obliged. When Howl's fingers touched the paper, it ignited. Both Sophie and Howl flinched back. The paper dropped to the table, flattened open and burned away, however it left a burnt pattern on the table. The pattern looked like a comet, flying over a man, something else float between the comet head and the man, and to the side a sunset.

Markl gasped. "Scorch marks!" he turned to his master. "Howl? Can you read them?" both Howl and Wilbert leaned into look at them. Sal cringed away from the smoking burn marks. Howl looked with wide-eyed awe, of every kind, his hair started to rise. "That is ancient sorcery. And quite powerful too," Markl made a guess, "It from the Witch of the Waste?" Sophie glanced between them. Then Wilbert added his two cents, "I've only ever seen this in grimoire," his expression darkened. "How the Witch of the Waste knew about this I have no idea, she's different to what I thought,"

Howl began the translation, "You who swallowed a falling star, oh heartless man, your heart shall soon belong to me." He paused and glanced to Wilbert, his friend eyed it wryly. Howl decided to break the tension, "That can't be good for the table," Wilbert nodded. "The Witch of the Waste isn't one for poetry. It's more of an omen than a curse, astrological event and all."

Howl put his hand down onto the mark. The embers grew into flames to attempt a resistance, bathing the room in the light fantastic, a rather disappointing fluorescent purple. He wiped his hand over it. Sophie and Markl leaned in further. Wilbert returned to his paper but looked over it as he turned a page. Sal inched away. Howl's face remained a calm smug, but every so often he twitched as he methodically moved his hand over the burned scar on the woodwork.

Finally, he reached the end and the mark gave up. The magical light of the battle between the two faded away. Markl leaned in. "Wow! It's gone," Howl rubbed his hand. "The mark may be gone, but the spell is still there," he stood up and took hold of his plate. "Excuse me, my friends. Please continue your meal," he walked over to the fireplace. "Calcifer, move the Castle six miles turnwise," he dumped his uneaten breakfast into the fire demon's mouth, said demon blazed happily at a proper meal. Howl then went to the stairs, but halfway up he looked down. "And while you're at it make hot water for my bath," he continued up as Calcifer grumbled, "Fine, not like moving the Castle isn't hard enough,"

When Howl left Wilbert turned another page. "Getting cursed so easily like that would make anyone lose their appetite, even a wizard,"

Markl turned to Sophie with narrowed eyes. "You're not working for the Witch of the Waste, are you?" Sophie fumed and snapped, "I would never work for that witch! She's the one who put this spell on me!" Markl shivered at the angry old woman.

Sal titled her head. "Why did she do that?" Wilbert hummed. "She needed to get that curse for Howl here somehow, still, she took quite a gamble to assume Sophie would arrive here at the Castle," he shook his head and muttered, "Wicked withes, they get so convoluted."

This made Sophie even madder. The Witch of the Waste cursed her, solely to use her as some carrier pigeon to put some long-winded curse on Howl? Used her? Exploited her even, all to curse another person? And her own curse is just collateral damage?

She banged the table. Everyone flinched. Markl grabbed his plate. Wilbert clutched as many of the falling books as possible. Sophie ignored this. "If I ever get my hands on that witch I'm going to wring her fat neck!" she slumped onto her stall and glared at Markl. "Finish your breakfast," she ordered with gritted teeth.

As Markl put his plate back on the table, Wilbert and Sal picked up the scattered objects. The wizard glanced to his witch fiancée and whispered, "She's nearly as strong as you Sal," she gave a short hum and glanced away.

Markl tucked into his bacon. Sophie seemed caught up in her anger and payed no one any attention. Markl looked to Wilbert. "What do you mean about Wicked witches?"

Wilbert paused in his book stacking and drummed his fingers up a spine. He sighed. "They're the kind who go Cackling," he turned to Sal. "I'm not as well learned in witches' magic as you Sal maybe you should explain," Sal whimpered and rubbed her arm, then she nodded. Her emerald eye glanced at Sophie, who now finished her breakfast. "Aright," she said and took her stool. "But I need to be taken seriously," her hand pulled her curtain bangs from her face and around her ears.

Sophie blinked. She didn't expect this. Sal looked, indiscernibly beautiful, Martha and Lettie would have a hard time next to her. Even as an old woman Sophie felt drawn the Sal. Even the one thing which on an average person would make them flawed, just seemed to add to her looks. Heterochromia eyes, the covered right eyes turned out to be brown compared to the left being green. Sophie imagined even the most proper and sensible of people, men and women would want her. Now she considered Wilbert to be the lucky one.

Markl blinked. "Wow! Is one of your eyes magical?"

Sal sighed and blushed. "No, neither of them is magical. Although, some have speculated the cause of them becoming mismatch with partly magical, it happened because of that fire. Mr Bill Door said he saved me by hidden in the cellar, but the inn didn't have a cellar, and not long after a living skeleton horse appeared in Miss Flitworth's hay barn, Mr Door stay with old Miss Flitworth," she shook her head and slapped on the table. The shock caused everything remaining on the table to jump nearly half a foot in the air, made the table itself pivot up on Markl's end, and dented it. Sal squeaked and quickly put her hands behind her back.

She took a breath in, exhaled. The top of her dress shifted. "Now," she said with some slight firmness, "What I'm going to explain is important, I need you all to look at me seriously, not brush me over as some overly shy girl, I have other reasons to conceal myself as I do," she bit her lip at the stares Sophie and Markl gave her. "Please, just listen do what I say, and, uh, please don't keep focusing on my looks," unable to speak in shock at the presence of her, both her beauty, and her strength, they simply nodded. Sal sighed and took another breath. "Okay, this is what Cackling means…"

There is a reason why witches never use magic as freely as a wizard would, and at Unseen University some the top Faculty members prefer not to use magic at all. A witch's reasonability in a nutshell is to solve problems. If a witch tries to solve all her problems with magic it would be easy, but magic always has a price, a certain witch may consider it a cost worth paying so she does it for all her problems. More and more of them and you begin slide down, you start thinking you know better than everyone else, so you might as well run their lives for them.

And if they don't like it, well, they just become another problem, and so the ignorant fools would look so much better as a frog or a cockroach. And transforming your cottage into gingerbread makes so much sense. Isolated Clacking witches are the source of many fears and superstitions about witchcraft, so no witch wants to see another sister of the Craft start Clacking.

Sal finished and glanced to Wilbert. "Didn't you have a cousin who went Cackling?" Wilbert groaned and nodded. "Lily Weatherwax, yes. The family doesn't talk about her."

Sophie blinked. "Weatherwax?" Wilbert flinched. "Oh, didn't I introduce myself? Sorry, my mind was on other things," he typed his hat. "Wilbert Weatherwax. Vice-Chancellor of Unseen University,"

Before Sophie could say anything, a watch chimed. Sal pulled out the watch, Sophie recalled the one she used for the milkman rested in a different pocket. Sal's awe-inspiring eyes blinked. "Oh dear, I'm going to be late!" she got up and put her hair back into place covering her face. The spell of her looks faded, but the expression Sophie shared with Markl said everything, they wouldn't forget it.

Sal meanwhile, ran up the stairs and stopped across the half-hidden balcony. After a moment or two she came running down with a broomstick held in one hand. She passed them fast, however, managed to say to Sophie, "The brooms and cleaning supplies are in the cupboard above the balcony. And uh, please try not to get the brooms mixed up. And, uh, lastly, all rubbish and waste should be sent to Lord Harry King," she finished as she turned the knob to the orange door of Mad Stoat, flung to door opened and literally flew out the door side-saddle on the broomstick. The door shut after her.

Sophie blinked and turned to Wilbert. The Vice-Chancellor turned a page in the Times. Sophie cleared her throat. "Where's Sal going?" Wilbert sighed. "Someone in the village is on their deathbed. One of her duties as the Research Witch of Mad Stoat is to be there," his eyes darted briefly to skull, and the harp, which managed to survive both Sophie and Sal's assault on the table. "Sal has a knack at knowing when people are going to be born and are dying," he stood up. "If you need me I'll be upstairs in my workshop," he went to collect his coat and staff before going upstairs.

First off, I have no idea how I managed to write so much for this chapter, it just kept going.

Markl here is meant to be a combination of Michael from the book, and Markl from the film. I went with Markl for the name, because as I justified above it's a suitable Discworld wizard's name, especially compared to the names we see the early books.

I hope Wilbert will not be considered a Gary Stu. Anyway, onto some of his details. He started off as the main character of failed project of mine, then as a highly influential supporting character in another, but I've re-written it and replaced him in that one. I finally managed to use him here. A side goal of this story was to test out Sal and Wilbert's personalities as I plan to use, slightly different versions in a novel I have in notes and bit and pieces. Any advice would greatly help.

His coat is an Inverness Coat, the tartan is the Ramsey Tartan.

Some of you might recognise where the winged unicorn comes from.

The newspaper headline is based on a real story. www. theguardian technology/2016/oct/12/english-man-spends-11-hours-trying-to-make-cup-of-tea-with-wi-fi-kettle. One person commented it sounds like something out a cyberpunk dystopia written by Douglas Adams.

What an interest world that would be. However, I'm not much of a science fiction writer.

Farewell for now.