.X.
Sophie didn't sleep at all that night, lying awake and fully dressed on the strange bed in the strange room, all the while staring at the ceiling. She should have brought a candle or lantern up so that she would have light, but she hadn't and was surprised when, as the evening wore on, the interior of the room still remained bright while outside the large window-doors the world darkened. It shouldn't have been a surprise, she knew—she was in a wizard's house now, after all. The house—or castle, rather—made all manners of bizarre noises during the course of the night. Several times she thought she heard doors opening and closing, and for a while she could hear Markl and Calcifer conferring on the floor below, their voices muffled and words inaudible. When she could hear them no more she assumed they'd both retired for the evening, and then wondered absently whether a fire demon needed sleep or not. This thought, along with a hundred others, roiled around and around in her mind as she lay unmoving, eyes tracing paths back and forth on the wooden ceiling. When finally the sky outside her windows began to lighten, she rolled into a sitting position with a sigh and gazed around the room with a feeling of heavy hopelessness.
It was a long while before she slid off the bed and made her way to the armoire in the corner. She had an instinctive feeling it would be full of clothing for her; after all, Howl had whisked her away without allowing her to gather any of her own belongings, but he'd gone out of his way—or so it seemed—to make her feel marginally at home. The creation of this room was indication enough of that. Easing one of the armoire doors open, she found her suspicions were correct; clothes were folded in neat, separate piles and hung from the short metal bar. Further inspection revealed that the wardrobe was none other than her very own, for picking up one dress she found it was one of her old favourites, with a small rip once mended along the upper arm. Had Howl magicked her entire, pitifully small wardrobe here? It seemed so, and against her will he went up a notch in her estimation. She fingered the fabric of the plain dress she held—one of many of the same she owned—before quickly setting about changing. Uncertain of what to do with the rumpled clothing from the day previous, she folded them neatly and set them on the floor beside the armoire before moving to the door. She took a deep breath before laying her hand upon it and opening it, and as silently as she could she stepped out into the hallway. Around her all was silent; the faint sound of snoring reached her ears from beyond the door that was Markl's. With a quick, quiet tread she made her way to the bathroom, opening and closing the door behind her as carefully as she could.
The inside was nice; a porcelain bathtub with four bronze clawed feet stood against the wall farthest from the door, the toilet not far from it. A shelf containing a myriad of multi-colored, differently sized bottles had been mounted over the tub, labelled with words she didn't understand. A full length mirror, gilded in silver, adorned the wall facing the sink, and another, smaller mirror was placed above the sink. Confused by the placement of the mirrors directly across from each other, she realized after a moment that they had been placed so so that one could see how they looked from the back. She had no doubt who had devised the setup, and a small smile at the excess of Howl's vanity tugged at her lips as she twisted the long brass faucets and set about freshening herself with the clear water that poured forth. There was a brush that looked identical to her own sitting on a shelf near the sink, so after she'd unbraided her hair she used it to comb through the thick waves of her hair. Once the long, chestnut length was again subdued in its plait she looked at her reflection critically. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, a testament to the fact she had not slept at all, and her coloring, usually a shade darker than what society deemed "fair", was somewhat pallid. Despite her best efforts, wisps of her hair had escaped her fingers and fell around her face. She looked tired and worried, which was, she mused wryly, exactly the case. Abruptly her expression sobered, and she scowled at herself in the mirror. She was no beauty, though there was something in the gentle lines of her face and the large, expressive surface of her eyes that could be called pretty. If she'd been lovely, she wondered seriously, would she still have wound up here, owing a Favor to a notorious wizard in his infamous home? Or would he have been so charmed by her appearance that he would have forgone the Favor, and merely settled for her heart? Her scowl grew ferocious, and quickly she moved away from the mirror and exited the bathroom.
She made her way downstairs with measured steps, careful to make as little noise as she could. She was relieved to find that the main room was devoid of anyone human; as she descended the last step she heard the soft crackle of flame and looked over to see Calcifer climbing up on a blackened log, blinking his eyes as though to clear them from the fog of sleep. She crossed the floor to the pile of wood at the side of the hearth and selected one before handing it to the fire demon with a quiet greeting. "Good morning, Calcifer."
"Sophie." His voice, she noted with a small degree of amusement, sounded exactly like that of someone who had just awoken from a deep sleep—raspy and hoarse. "Do you know how early it is?"
"I have an idea," she replied dryly, for after all, she had been awake to notice the sun rising.
"I don't think Howl or Markl have ever been awake this early," Calcifer said, adjusting the log she had just given him to a position more of his liking. Propping himself up on it, he continued, "In fact, Howl hardly ever rises much before noon."
"And Markl?" Sophie asked, looking around for a broom and spying one wedged in the corner between a bookshelf and the wall, covered entirely in thick, dusty spider webs. She grabbed what appeared to be a white linen handkerchief from the cluttered table and only glanced at the embroidered initials—"H" & "J" done in blue cursive script—before resolutely approaching the broom. She took a deep breath before reaching out to grab it, stifling a shudder as the cobwebs stuck to her skin. She had a distinct dislike of spiders, and so she swallowed hard as she swept them away from the broomstick with the handkerchief.
"Markl is up before Howl, most of the time. Though now that he has a young lady friend, he's been coming in later and sleeping in longer." Watching as she approached with the now web-free broom in hand, the fire demon remarked, "I don't think that broom has ever been used."
"That doesn't surprise me," Sophie said, and determinedly went to work.
She swept the entire length of the floor, wall to wall, brushing the great piles of dust and other, larger things down the stairs before turning the dial on the door to green as Calcifer directed and sweeping the entire mess out into what appeared to be the foggy expanse of the Wastes. With the floor now clear of its covering of dirt, it was revealed that it hadn't been washed for quite some time. When asked, Calcifer directed her to a small closet to the left of the hearth, where she discovered a mop and bucket. She used the large metal basin that passed as a kitchen sink to fill the bucket with hot water—which she'd asked for politely, and which Calcifer had acquiesced to make with a sigh so melodramatic it rivalled those of Howl's—and thus began a thorough cleaning of the first floor. It was easy to forget as she threw herself wholeheartedly into the work just why she was here, and just who she was here to work for. It was also easy to push the memory of just what Calcifer and Markl had said the night previous—as well as what they hadn't—and all the implications that arose from their words that seemed to her slightly insidious into the farthest corners of her mind.
She'd just finished mopping the last bit of the floor when a voice startled her out of her determined focus. "My, but we're energetic this morning."
Sophie straightened quickly, turning to find Howl standing before the hearth. He was dressed in clothing even more resplendent than those she'd seen him in before, an ensemble of dark green and a rich, earthy brown. Over his shoulders he wore a coat of heavy brocade consisting of the same two colors. The effect of the coat and clothing beneath was definitely eye-catching, and she knew without a doubt that he was more than aware of the effect.
Calcifer spoke first, eyeing Howl from head to, and when he spoke his words were an echo of the wizard's own. "My, but we're up early this morning."
Ignoring the sarcastic edge to the fire demon's tone, Howl said to Sophie brightly, "Things are looking better already. I can see your presence here is going to be a blessing."
"Is it?" Sophie asked sharply, and immediately regretted it. But Howl gave no indication he heard the ire in her tone, instead flicking a stray strand of his flaxen hair out of his eyes and speaking next to Calcifer.
"And as for you," the wizard said, "I'm up this early because I have important business to attend to."
"By business, you mean …?" Calcifer asked, and there was more than simple curiosity in the question.
"I mean just that. Business." Howl said, striding across the room to pick up a handsome acoustic guitar that was propped against the wall. With it in hand he moved to the table and begin searching through the mess atop it, muttering, "I know I put my handkerchief here the other day …" He made a triumphant noise, setting down the guitar and seizing a small square of fabric and holding it up before him. He stared at it for a long moment before saying, "I could have sworn this used to be white."
Sophie felt the blood rush to her face as the wizard turned about to look at her pointedly, the linen handkerchief held between his thumb and forefinger no longer white but dark with dust and the remnants of spider webs. Defensively, she said, "I needed something to clean off the broom."
"I see." Howl nodded. "And my fine linen handkerchief—which bears very clearly, I might add, my initials—was all that was available?"
"Yes." She said, and stubbornly met his gaze while squelching the urge to apologize. She'd used it on purpose because it had bore his initials, but she wasn't going to tell him that. She was almost certain he'd guessed as much.
"In the future," the wizard said, taking two edges of the handkerchief and pulling them tight, "I'll make sure there are an abundance of rags present for your use." He folded the square of linen with quick, deft fingers and then snapped it open again, and Sophie saw with astonishment that the linen was again pure white. He tucked it into an outer pocket of his jacket, picked up the guitar, and made his way to the door. As he descended the stairs, Calcifer asked, "Where are you going?"
Howl paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "I'll be gone for a day or two," he said, not bothering to answer the question. To Sophie he said with a sunny smile, "Don't work yourself too hard, my dear." And with that he stepped off the stairs, turned the dial on the door to black, and slipped through. When he was gone, Calcifer said in a disgusted voice, "Fool."
Sophie was inclined to agree with him, but instead picked up her bucket of dirty water and moved to the sink. When she'd finished rinsing it out and cleaning it, she set about searching for anything and everything that could be used for the making of breakfast. By the time she'd located a frying pan, a bent metal flipper and two forks, Markl had risen. He greeted both Sophie and Calcifer tiredly, inquired briefly about Howl, and then set about aiding in the search for utensils. When they'd found enough to use for a meal, Sophie approached the hearth with the frying pan in one hand and a basket of eggs in the other.
Calcifer glared at her as she approached and said with heavy warning, "Don't even think about it."
She had been thinking about it, but was also aware that Calcifer was more than likely to proud to be prodded into something as mundane as cooking. And so Sophie built another small fire on the hearth close to Calcifer and utilized it to cook breakfast for herself and Markl. As she cracked the eggs and looked about for a place to dispose of the shells, the fire demon made an eager noise, and so she tossed them in his direction. He crackled and rose up, catching them in the dark void of his mouth, and began to chew with noisy gusto. When the food was ready—four eggs and four slices of bacon that Markl had found somewhere—she turned to find that the assistant had managed to clear off more than half of the table and had made an attempt at setting it properly with the limited dishes and silverware available. As they sat down to their meal with Calcifer still eating loudly in the background, it struck Sophie that she was actually enjoying herself. The absence of Howl made her feel more at ease, but then the events of the previous night, the enigmatic yet urgent words of Calcifer, came rushing back to her. She swallowed a mouthful of bacon heavily, staring at Markl and suddenly burning with the urge to ask him what was in store for her. Markl, shovelling food into his mouth with an appalling lack of manners, stopped in mid-chew as he noticed Sophie's gaze upon him.
"What?" He asked around a mouth full of food.
Sophie shook her head. "Nothing," she said with a weak smile. "Just homesick."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
Sophie shook her head again and resumed eating, although her appetite had abandoned her in the wake of her nervousness that had returned from the night before. At length she rose and carried her plate to the hearth, sweeping the remains of her meal off into Calcifer's waiting mouth. "Fahnks," the fire demon said, bits of food falling from his mouth as he spoke, and Sophie merely nodded before turning and taking her plate to the sink to be washed. When Markl had finished he offered to help, but Sophie declined, and the apprentice then opted to head out into to do some errands Howl had left for him. Sophie watched as he left with the door set on the red dial and caught a glimpse of clustered buildings before he closed it behind him.
"Where has he gone?" Sophie asked Calcifer, turning her attention again to the dishes in the sink.
"Porthaven."
Perhaps, Sophie mused, she was becoming accustomed to living in a wizard's house, because it didn't strike her as odd at all that Porthaven was many leagues from the Wastes, and even more from her home city of Market Chipping.
.X.
The rest of the day passed in the same manner the first part had; Sophie set to work scrubbing the walls of the first floor, and removing all cobwebs from the ceiling. It didn't surprise her that a veritable menagerie of insects and rodents scuttled away from her mop, rag and broom, and she threatened them with a dire fate if they decided to return. By the time she'd made dinner for herself and Markl, Sophie was utterly exhausted, and retired early in the evening. In her room she disrobed and donned one of her high-necked flannel nightgowns before crawling into the bed and collapsing against the pillow. She was asleep instantly, but her sleep was troubled by visages of Howl, and by broken phrases and sentences whose ominous meaning she couldn't decipher.
She slept late into the next morning, and when she rose she decided she wanted a bath; her body ached a bit from the force of her exertions the day previous. Peeking her head through the railing she asked if it would be alright; Markl nodded and Calcifer even offered to heat water for her, something she knew from conversation he hated to do for Howl. She thanked them both and made her way to the bathroom, where she indulged in an hour long soak. Once she was again clean and freshly clothed she headed downstairs where she partook of the small breakfast Markl had made before beginning her tasks again. Today she focused on the second floor, thoroughly cleaning the hallway. She was wise enough not to venture into Howl's room, and Markl asked with a hint of desperation is she could leave his room until he'd tidied it up a bit. That left only the bathroom, and so Sophie did her best to get it clean, heeding Markl's warning not touch any of the bottles or vials housed within. When finally the upstairs was as clean as she was able to get it she came back downstairs and with the assistant's aid began to get rid of the clutter that had spread itself from the table to the floor. By the time they'd put everything away and gotten things as organized as possible, it was time for dinner. Their repast that evening was cold fare; rich white bread and aged cheese accompanied by some red wine Markl had discovered in the midst of their reorganization of the main room. Markl left after assisting Sophie with the dishes, saying only he was going to meet a friend; a suggestive hint from Calcifer about it being a lady friend had the teenaged boy blushing furiously as he slipped quickly out the door.
Alone with only the fire demon, Sophie settled herself in a chair close to the hearth and began to mend some clothing she had found discarded in the corner of the bathroom. They were made of linen and other fine fabrics, and so she automatically assumed they belonged to Howl. As she sewed, she maintained a conversation with Calcifer, learning that the fire demon had a biting wit and sarcastic sense of humor that she quite enjoyed. Eventually he grew tired, withdrawing his flame and closing his eyes, and in the silence that followed Sophie lost herself in the rising and falling of her needle and the lines made through the fabric by her thread. So absorbed was she in her work that she didn't notice the presence at her side until she heard a voice.
"You've done a lot while I've been gone, Sophie."
Instantly her hands stilled, her head whipping around and her eyes flying upwards to find Howl standing at her side. Her discomfiture amused him; she saw it in the curve of his lips. His appearance had altered, she noted as she observed him—his thick cornsilk hair was longer than it had been before, the night he brought her to the castle. Where once it had fallen to brush his shoulders it now spilled over them and came to an end at the middle of his chest. He was dressed in the same green and brown outfit he'd been wearing the other morning, and his guitar was held in one hand. His eyes, partially obscured as usual beneath some of the shorter locks of his hair, were watching her watching him, and the glint in them was, she felt certain, mocking.
Suddenly indignant, angry at his entertainment at her expense, she squared her shoulders and said stiffly, "There was a lot to do."
"Indeed," the wizard remarked, leaning the guitar against the table and half turning with his hands placed on his hips to survey the interior of the castle's main room which had drastically changed in terms of cleanliness since Sophie arrival. "Consider me impressed."
There was nothing in his tone that she could detect other than respect, and Sophie's irritation softened somewhat. Howl turned back to her with a pleased smile. "If you keep up like this, you'll have fulfilled your Favor within another week."
His tone had been light, jesting, but Sophie replied with all seriousness, "That is what I am hoping for."
Something inexplicable altered in his expression, a slight tightening of his smile, a shadow that flickered for a fraction of a second in his eyes. Between one heartbeat and the next it seemed as though nothing had changed, however, and his expression was as cheery as ever.
"And Calcifer and Markl? Have they been behaving themselves?" He asked, his eyes moving to the hearth where only a small flame burned amidst a stack of wood. It seemed as though the fire demon was still in repose.
"They've been nothing but kind," Sophie said truthfully.
"Excellent," the wizard said. Looking back at Sophie he asked another question, "I assume Markl has gone out for the evening?"
Sophie nodded, and Howl continued with a deep, dramatic sigh. "I'm losing my apprentice to the charms of first love." A smile danced about his mouth as he peered down at Sophie, and it was a mischevious smile that made her instantly more nervous than she already was. "Have you ever been in love, Sophie?"
"I—no." Sophie said, and immediately wished she hadn't. She blushed and furiously began to mend the cloth bunched in her lap.
Howl chuckled, falling to a crouch beside her. "Careful now," he said, picking at the black and white sleeve of the shirt Sophie was currently fixing. "I'm rather fond of this suit."
"Is that why it was lying in the corner of the bathroom, covered in dust?"
"I'll have you know, I hadn't forgotten about it," Howl said with mock indignation. He cast an appraising eye over the stitches she had done so far. "So, you're as adept with a needle and thread as you are with a mop and bucket."
His words weren't meant to be cruel, but Sophie took offence anyways, shooting to her feet. She knew that as far as talents went she was lacking, but it still hurt to be referred to as some sort of housemaid. Carefully turning and lying the shirt on the table, she said stiffly and without looking at the wizard. "I think I'll be going to bed now."
"Sophie," he said as she stepped around him, but she didn't stop until he caught her by the upper arm. Staring at the floor, blinking back tears of mingled anger, despair and apprehension, she waited woodenly for what he would say next.
"I meant nothing unkind," he said. She nodded; she'd already known as much. Though she thought she'd had a better handle on it, she was so on edge from this … situation that her emotions were raw and very easily provoked. His hand fell away with the rustling of fabric. She felt his fingers again on her chin a moment later, gently turning her face towards him.
"I'm sorry," he said, and there was nothing light in his expression now. His eyes, with their perpetual intrinsic brightness, were solemn as well. He went on, "I got you a gift today, to show you my appreciation for cooperating on the issue of the Favor. Would you like to see it?"
She wanted only to escape this room, to escape his presence and go to the safety of her own quarters. But she nodded, because it was the polite thing to do, and watched as he removed something from an inner pocket of his coat. He held it up before her slowly; it was a necklace, a long gold chain adorned by a single teardrop pendant. The pendant, she saw upon closer examination, was a translucent blue stone that winked and glittered even in the dim light provided by Calcifer's small flames. It was simple yet lovely, and when she saw he was watching her expectantly she said honestly, "It's very nice, but why …?"
"I told you why." He said, undoing the clasp of the necklace and stepping behind her. She stiffened as his hands brushed aside her braid in order to refasten the clasp, and when the pendant rested securely against the hollow of her collarbone he came to stand before her with a satisfied smile.
"There!" He said. "It looks perfect. You do like it, don't you?"
Sophie fingered the teardrop stone, feeling the uninterrupted smoothness of it and despite herself admiring the way the stone sparkled. "Very much," she said softly, feeling both bewildered and flustered.
"That's my girl," Howl said in a quiet voice, and her eyes moved to his face. For an instant his smile faded, and she saw in the depths of his gaze something unrecognizable, something urgent that she couldn't comprehend. But like before his expression shifted with fluidic ease, and when he was smiling again he said, "You have my thanks for what you've done here, Sophie."
She nodded, suddenly eager to be free of his presence. Before she could say anything he stepped aside, out of her way, and inclined his head slightly. "I believe you were on your way to bed. Don't let me stop you, and sweet dreams."
"Thank you," she said, averting her eyes from his and hastily making her way to the stairs. She was halfway up them when she thought she heard Calcifer speak, say something sharp. But when she paused she heard only Howl humming some nameless tune, and so she continued on the way up to her room.
Once inside she closed the door and locked it for good measure, and then moved to her bed on numb legs. Howl terrified her, but he also intrigued her, and she hated the curiosity that arose when she was around him. He was a dangerous man, vanity and dramatic behaviour aside, but at the same time it seemed as though there was something else beneath that exterior, and it was that something else that was beginning to fascinate her so …
"He steals hearts and eats them," She whispered to herself, sinking down to perch on the side of the bed, lifting the pendant up before her eyes. It really was rather pretty. She admired it for a moment before standing and changing in preparation for sleep, and her hands hovered over the necklace for only a moment before she opted to keep it on. She needed something like a charm in her current situation, something she could keep with her at all times to feel safe and secure, and the pendant was perfect for such use. And so she slid beneath the blankets with the stone and chain tucked under her nightgown and cold against her skin. She closed her eyes tightly, turning onto her side; as she did so, the room grew dark as though it were attuned to the fact she wanted to sleep. Concentrating on taking deep, even breaths, she tried to clear her mind of the doubts and fears that swirled around in it and focus on nothing but calm.
Sweet dreams, Howl had said, but somehow she didn't think she would find them.
.X.