Howl must have come back while Sophie and Markl were out. He came out of the bathroom while Sophie fried breakfast on Calcifer and sat gracefully in the chair, groomed, glowing and smelling of honeysuckle.
"Dear Sophie," he said. "Always busy. You were hard at work yesterday, weren't you, despite my advice? I can make you a pair of seven-league boots of your own if you give me your size. Something practical in brown calf perhaps. It's amazing the way one can take a step of twenty-one miles and still land in something's leavings."
"I daresay," said Sophie. "You found mud from the lake marshes on them too. A person my age needs a lot of exercises."
"You were even busier than I realised, then," said Howl. "Because when I happened to tear my eyes from Lettie's lovely face for an instant yesterday, I could have sworn I saw your long nose poking around the corner of the house."
Sophie did her best not to stare at her own noise. "Mistress Aching is a family friend," said Sophie. "How was I to know you would be there too?"
"You have an instinct, Sophie, that's how," said Howl. "Nothing is safe from you. If I were to court a girl who lived on an iceberg in the middle of an ocean, sooner or later, probably sooner, I'd look up to see you swooping overhead on a broomstick. In fact, by now I'd be disappointed in you if I didn't see you."
"Are you off to the iceberg today?" Sophie retorted. "From the look on Lettie's face yesterday, there's nothing that need keep you there!"
"You wrong me, Sophie," Howl said. He sounded deeply injured. Sophie looked suspiciously sideways. Beyond the jewel swinging in Howl's ear, his profile looked sad and noble. "Long years will pass before I leave the girl for me," he said. "And in fact, I'm off to see the King of Lancre again. Satisfied Mrs Nose?"
Sophie did not feel sure if she believed a word of this, though it certainly went to Lancre, with the door turned to Mad Stoat as both Howl and Sal left. Sal needed to visit Copperhead to inform its king, who she explained is more of a Head Engineer than a king, just a part of dwarfish culture, about the arrangements of the wedding. Howl waved Markl aside when Markl tried to consult him about the perplexing spell. Markl, with nothing to do, left too. He said he might as well go to Cesari's.
Wilbert however stopped him before he could borrow the seven-league boots again. Instead Wilbert set up a transport spell. First writing another diagram on the floor. The spell required an exchange of matter in roughly equal weight. Using a broken crystal ball, he managed to find a discarded pile of brinks in an alleyway of Market Chipping, he gave the other piece of the crystal ball to Markl, so he could communicate with the Castle if need be and swapped them. Sophie hoped the spell caused an illusion, because she never wanted to see little Markl stretched like a rubber band to exactly twelve feet, before a portal opened and sucked him up with a twang.
Wilbert then went upstairs to do some other work. An experiment, Cable Street work or preparations for the wedding he didn't say.
Sophie became left alone in the living room. She still did not truly believe what Howl said about Lettie, but she did get disproven about him before, and she only processed Markl and Calcifer's word for Howl's behaviour after all. Maybe she should ask Wilbert and Sal to verify it.
When someone knocked at the door, she started violently, thinking it might be the gremlin again.
"Porthaven door," Calcifer said, flickering a grin at her.
It should be all right then. Sophie hobbled over and opened it. A cart horse stood outside. The young fellow of fifty who lead it wondered if Mrs Witch processed something which might stop it casting shoes all the time.
"I'll see," said Sophie. She hobbled over to the grate. "What shall I do?" she whispered.
"Yellow powder, fourth jar along on the second shelf," Calcifer whispered back. "Those spells are mostly belief. Don't look uncertain when you give it to him."
Very much like what Mistress Aching explained about witchcraft. So, Sophie poured yellow powder into a square of paper as she saw Markl do, twisted it smartly and hobbled to the door with it. "There you are, my boy," she said. "That'll stick the shoes on harder than any hundred nails. Do you hear me horse? You won't need a smith for the next year. That'll be a penny, thank you."
Almost as soon as Sophie closed the door, another set of knocks beat on it.
"It's the Ankh-Morpork door," Calcifer called.
At this time in the morning, Sophie thought, it must Mr Soak.
When she opened the door, a cheery voice answered. "Morning miss," Sophie peered out the door to see a hygienic white cart with milk churns, and the words,
Ronald Soak, Hygienic Dairyman. Established.
Written on the side. The horse stood waiting. A polished black, however it shone as if illuminated by a red light, and the light bounced off it. Indeed, it didn't look like any type of horse meant to pull a wagon.
Sophie turned to the beaming face as the peak capped man carried pair of milk bottles. Quite a short man too, so his standard issue blue and white striped apron almost reached the floor. "Mr Weatherwax explained about the new cleaning lady, nice to meet you, so that's five pints, one for each human," Sophie blinked, he knew about Calcifer?
"And would you care for some yogurt? Mr Weatherwax is partial to Howondaland Vanilla, I've got other flavours too,"
Sophie looked at him with a curious eye. "Established when?" Ronnie Soak's face dropped. He coughed and chuckled awkwardly. "No one's ever asked that before," he tugged at his collar.
Then Sophie saw his eyes. Black. Completely black, no whites at all and as polished as the obsidian coat of the horse.
Soak turned to look down the street. "I've got time before I need to deliver to Mrs Cake," he took his peaked cap off. "May I come in?"
"Of course," Sophie went back up the stairs.
Calcifer called over worried, "Sophie? You don't know who you're letting in!"
Soak looked to him. "Belt up fire demon. I'm not one of the Witch of the Waste's minions, I can be worse,"
Sophie gulped. "You're not a Grade something monster or something?"
"I'm more the something. The term I think would be Anthropomorphic Personification. You know? Death, War, the Sandman, the Hogfather."
"I know of them," Sophie suggested, but she felt silly for saying it. But gremlins exist, so maybe those Soak just listed do too.
"I'm an old friend of Death, War, Famine and Pestilence, the Four Horsemen, I'm the Fifth, being a milkman's just my day job, not much call for me everywhere and every day. Although from what Death and War are telling me, things are heating up Ingary," he waved his hand. "But you probably know about that already."
"Yes," Sophie grumbled. "So, who are you?"
Soak held out his hand, a small lightning cloud formed in it, sparks jumped before it modelled into a helmet, the eyeholes looked slightly like the wings of a butterfly and rather more like the eyes of some strange, alien creature. "Ever heard of the butterfly effect miss?"
"Yes," Sophie nodded. "It's a chaos theory," Soak smirked. "There you go, figured it out for yourself,"
Sophie backed up to a wall. "Your, you're Chaos?"
"That's right, at first it was Kaos, with a capital K, but the other lads had artistic differences and I left for a few millennia, I re-joined back in 1990. But chaos happens randomly nowadays," he put his hat back on. "I think we'll be seeing each other again soon. Have a nice day," and he left.
What a strange person, Sophie thought. Still, a nice fellow.
It turned into quite a busy day. Sophie need to put down her sewing and cleaning to sell, with Calcifer's help, a spell to unblock drains, another to fetch goats, and something to make good beer. The only one to give trouble came from a customer who pounded on the door in Kingsbury. Sophie opened it to find a richly dressed boy not much older than Markl, white-faced and sweating, wringing his hands on the doorstep.
"Madam Sorceress, for pity's sake!" he said. "I have to fight a duel at dawn tomorrow. Give me something to make sure I win. I'll pay any sum you ask!"
Sophie looked over her shoulder at Calcifer, and Calcifer made faces back, meaning nothing readymade currently resided in the Castle. "That wouldn't be right at all," Sophie told the boy severely. "Besides, duelling is wrong."
"Then just give me something that lets me have a fair chance!" the lad said desperately.
Sophie looked at him. Very undersized and clearly in a great state of fear. He possessed the hopeless look a person has who always loses at everything. "I'll see what I can do," Sophie said. She hobbled over to the shelves and scanned the jars. The red on labelled CAYENNE looked the most likely. Sophie poured a generous heap of it on a square of paper. She stood the human skull beside it. "Because you must know more about this than I do," she muttered at it. The young man leaned anxiously around the door to watch. Sophie took up a knife and made what she hoped would look like mystic passes over the heap of pepper. "You are to make it a fair fight," she mumbled. "A fair fight. Understand?" She screwed the paper up and hobbled to the door with it. "Throw this in the air when the duel starts," she told the undersized you man, "and it will give you the same chance as the other man. After that, whether you win or not depends on you."
The undersized young became so grateful he tried to give her a gold piece. Sophie refused to take it, so he gave her a two-penny but instead and went away whistling happily.
Sophie shut the door despondent and went to the chair. The door opened behind her.
"Are you all right Sophie?" Sal said shutting the door.
"I feel a fraud," Sophie said as she stowed the money under the hearthstone. She explained what happened.
Sal gave a friendly humming sigh and took a chair to sit next to her. "You've just performed a real piece of witchcraft Sophie, that is was proper Headology," Sophie looked at Sal, she heard Headology once before, Martha mentioned it on the May Day this all started. "What is Headology?" Sal giggled and explained.
Headology is like psychology, but many witches think "psychology" is a bad word, or it means "having a psychological problem". The practice of Headology relies on the principle of what people believe is what is real. Witches use this to earn respect or at least fear, and to cure patients. The power of Headology is not to be underestimated. Clearly, the way a person sees himself and the surrounding world forms the person's reality. If this view is changed effectively using Headology then this person's reality changes. This allows witches to make people think they are frogs, for example, which is easier, cleaner, safer and a lot more fun than literary turning them into a frog. Witches generally think Headology is a more powerful style of magic than any of the fancy stuff wizards use. Headology is what witching is all about. A witch needs a very powerful, focused, and trained mind to use Headology. Granny Weatherwax was the foremost practitioner of Headology on Discworld.
This softened Sophie a little. "I would like to be there at that fight!"
"So, would I!" crackled Calcifer, causing Sal to flinch. "When are you going to release me so that I can go and see things like that?"
"When I've got even a hint about this contract," Sophie said.
"You may get one later today," said Calcifer.
Markl must have called Wilbert towards the end of the afternoon because he suddenly came running down the stair. He took an anxious look around to make sure he arrived before Howl, and went to the bench, where he got things out to make it look as if he had been busy, singing cheerfully while he did.
"I envy you being able to travel all that way so easily," Sophie said sewing a blue triangle to silver braid. "How was Martha?"
Markl gladly left the workbench and sat on the stool by the hearth to tell her all about his day. Then he asked about Sophie's. The result of this came about when Howl shouldered the door open with his arms full of parcels, Markl did not even look busy. He rolled around on the stool laughing at the duel spell.
Howl back into the door to shut it and leaned there in a tragic attitude. "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 me time to say hello!"
Markl sprang up guiltily and Calcifer said, "I never do say hello."
Wilbert came down the stairs. "Evening Howl,"
"Is something wrong?" asked Sophie.
"That's better," said Howl. "Some of you are pretending to notice me at last. How kind of you to ask, Sophie. Yes, something is wrong. King Verence has officially advised me to find Prince Justin and Wizard Suliman, to help the international situation, with a strong hint that destroying the Witch of the Waste would come in handy too, and you all sit there and laugh!"
Clearly by Howl's mood right now, he would produce green smile any second. Sophie hurriedly put her sewing away. "I'll make some hot buttered toast," she said.
"Is that all you can do in the face of tragedy?" Howl asked. "Make toast! No, don't get up. I've trudged here laden with stuff for you, so the least you can do is show polite interest. Here." He tipped a shower of parcels into Sophie's lap and handed another to Markl, a couple to Sal and Wilbert.
Mystified, Sophie unwrapped things: several pairs of silk stockings; two parcels of the finest cambric petticoats, with flounces, lace and satin insets; a pair elastic-sided boots in dove grey suede; a lace shawl; and a dress of grey watered silk trimmed with lace matching the shawl. Sophie took one professional look at each and gasped. The lace alone must have worth a fortune. She stroked the silk of the dress, awed.
Wilbert held the jacket of the new red three piece suit up against himself, the stitching took his interest. After a moment or two he concluded, "This is Sto Helit made. I can only assume the dresses are from Bilberry's Emporium, and are the suits from Rex Tailors?"
Markl unwrapped a handsome new velvet suit. "You must have spent every bit that was in your silk purse!" he said ungratefully. "I don't need this."
"How selfless I am," Howl said. "We can't attend the wedding of Captain Carrot Ironfounderson and Captain Delphine Angua von Überwald in rags. What would the people of Ankh-Morpork think?"
Wilbert and Sal looked at each other. Sal turned back to Howl. "The wedding's not for months, a fortnight after the Eve of Small Gods. And we were planning on wearing our Watch uniform," she put her box down without opening it. "And I have fine clothes already Howl."
Howl tilted his head. "I've only ever seen you in that black dress."
"This is just my witch attire." She got up. "Just to show you what finery I do have, Wilbert?" her fiancé put the jacket down and stepped beside her. With a flourish of his hands he magical unveiled a curtain to cover Sal. Behind it came the sound of buttons being undone and the rustling of material. Wilbert looked over and grinned with happiness, pride and a hint of smugness. Sal gave an approving hum and Wilbert let the curtain disappear.
Everyone stared.
Sophie already knew about the ankle high boats and the fishnet stockings, but above them?
Instead of a dress she wore a leotard, allowing her shapely leg to be fully displayed. Her wide hips and short waist curved gracefully up. From her waist Sal wore a suit like Wilbert's. She looked like a magician's assistant. And certain assets made her look a little top-heavy. So distracting Sophie almost failed to notice again how she carried something in her inside top pocket.
Sophie's sarcastic second thoughts joked. Those would certainly help in misdirection. The rest of Sophie's mind added to it. With a face and figure you can't look away from it's amazing anyone could do anything in her presence. An entire religion could very well start with Sal as the goddess.
Sal put her hands on her hips. "The only reasons I wear that baggy dress over my clothes is firstly, so the people of my Steading are not distracted by my figure while I'm doing witch business. I mean, I can't have the woman of the village all jealous of me and all the uh, all the boys ogling me, can I? But also, I can carry supplies in the pockets," she put her dress back on and it hide her figure, her proportions went out of alignment and the effect wore away.
Howl blinked and shook his head. He turned to Sophie. "Well, Sophie? Are the boots the right size?"
Sophie looked away from Sal and her continuous awed stroking of the silk. "Are you being kind," she said, "or cowardly?"
"What ingratitude!" Howl exclaimed, spreading out both arms. "Let's have green slime again! After which I shall be forced to move the Castle a thousand miles away and never see Lettie again!"
Markl looked at Sophie imploringly.
But Wilbert answered their prayers. He took Howl's arms and pulled them behind his back. "First off, no green smile. I'm not having Things from the Dungeon Dimensions enter what is still my house!" he sighed and let Howl's arms go. "It's not that we're ungrateful, but perhaps you should have discussed it with us first, but given you went through the effort I'll ask the Captains if we can add you, Sophie and Markl to the guest list,"
"What about me!" Calcifer called. Wilbert turned to him unsure. "That remains to be seen." Howl then looked to Wilbert and Sal and asked them about the current details about the wedding and suggested things to consider.
Markl meanwhile hovered at Howl's elbow, trying to ask him about the perplexing spell. Howl kept on waving him away while he talked with Wilbert and Sal, or more correctly, he talked while Wilbert and Sal listened, and both trying to get a word in.
When Howl finished his say he at last turned to Markl. "Right Markl. Your turn now. What is it?"
Markl waved the shiny grey paper and explained in an unhappy rush how impossible the spell seemed to be.
Howl seemed faintly astonished to hear this, but he took the paper, saying, "Now, where was your problem?" and spread it out. He stared at it. One of his eyebrows shot up.
"I tried it as a puzzle," Markl explained. "And I tried doing it just as it says. But Sophie and I couldn't catch the falling star…"
"Great gods above!" Howl exclaimed. He started to laugh and bit his lip to stop himself. "But, Markl, this isn't the spell I left you. Where did you find it?"
"On the bench, in that heap of things Sophie piled around the skull," said Markl. "It was the only new spell there, so I thought…"
Howl leaped up and sorted among the things on the bench. "Sophie strike again," he said. Things skidded right and left as he searched. "I might have known! No, the proper spell's not here." He tapped the skull thoughtfully on its brown, shiny dome. "Your doing, friend? I have notion you come from there. I'm sure the guitar does. Sophie dear…"
"What?" asked Sophie.
"Busy old fool, unruly Sophie," said Howl. "Am I right in thinking that you turned my doorknob to the black setting and stuck your long nose out through it?"
"Just my finger," Sophie said with dignity.
"But you opened the door," Howl said slowly his eyes narrowing in thought. "And the thing Markl thinks is a spell must have got through. Didn't it occur to either of you that it doesn't look like spells usually do?"
"Spells often look peculiar," Markl said in defence. "Wilbert was here when Sophie read it out."
Wilbert spoke up, "I did say try and tell it wasn't a spell," he then muttered. "Some people just don't take the hint."
"What is it really?" Markl asked. Wilbert rolled his eyes. "See?"
Howl gave a snort of laughter. "Decide what this is about. Write a second verse! Oh, Efnysien!" he said and ran for the stairs. "I'll show you," he called as his feet pounded up them.
"I think we wasted our time rushing around the marshes last night," Sophie said. Markl nodded gloomily. Sophie could she he felt a fool. "It was my fault," she said. "I opened the door."
"What was outside?" Markl asked with great interest.
Sal meanwhile looked at Wilbert. "Weird exclamation?" she said.
"Efnysien?" Wilbert repeated then leaned back in thought. "I think Howl told me about him once. An ancient Hero, caused trouble, lead to a war, he destroyed some magical artefact sacrificing himself."
Howl came charging downstairs just then. "I haven't got that book after all," he said. He seemed upset now. "Markl, did I hear you say you went out and tried to catch a shooting star?"
"Yes," Markl said. "But it was scared stiff and fell in a pool and drowned,"
"Thank goodness for that!" said Howl.
"It was very sad," Sophie said.
"Sad, was it?" said Howl, more upset than ever. "It was your idea, was it? It would be! I can just see you hopping about the marches, encouraging him! Let me tell you, that was the most stupid thing he's ever done in his life. He'd have been more than sad if he'd chanced to catch the thing! And you…"
Calcifer flickered sleepily up the chimney. "What's all the fuss about?" he demanded. "You caught one yourself, didn't you?"
"Yes, and I…" Howl began, turning his glass-marble glare on Calcifer. But he pulled himself together and turned to Markl instead. "Markl, promise me you'll never try to catch on again."
"I promise," Markl said willingly. "What is that writing, if it's not a spell?"
Howl looked at the grey paper in his hand. "It's called 'Song', and that's what it is, I suppose. But it's not all here and I can't remember the rest of it." He stood thought, as if a new idea stuck him, one which obviously worried him. "I think the next verse was important," he said. "I'd better take it back and see…" He went to the door and turned the knob to the black. Then he paused. He looked around at Markl and Sophie, who naturally enough, both stared at the knob. "All right," he said. "I know Sophie will squirm through to somehow if I leave her behind, and that's not fair to Markl. Come along, both of you, so I've got you where I can keep my eye on you."
He opened the door on the nothingness and walked into it. Markl fell over the stool in his rush to follow. Sophie shed parcels right and left beside the hearth as she sprang up too. "Don't let any sparks get on those!" she said hurriedly to Calcifer.
"If you promise to tell me what's out there," Calcifer said. "You had your hint by the way."
"Did I?" said Sophie, in too much of a hurry to attend.
Ronnie Soak has become a minor favourite of mine after listening to the audiobook of Thief of Time.
It's kind of obvious that Sal's under-costume is based on Zatanna. I have Sal Double Subverting and exaggerating the Hot Witch trope. Covered up she's a Special Average beauty, uncovered, you might say, she's a Divine Level Beauty.
Bye for now.
