Title: An Awful Thing Chapter 9: Is it a Spell, or Not?
By: Jedishampoo (Jedishampoo at aol dot com)
Rating: PG-13 overall, averaged out I think
Summary: Howl and Sophie get mixed up in magical and dimensional doings, and Sophie is just mixed up. Humor/Adventure/Romance thingie. Crossover between Howl's Moving Castle and Terry Pratchett's Discworld.
Author's Notes: This is movieverse!Howl and company. I've read the books by Diana Wynne Jones, and so a little bookishness may creep in here and there, but the movie is what made me fall in love with the characters. Comments, constructive criticism eagerly welcomed.
A bit more of the silliness. Is there a spell on that purse? If you're confused about any of the Ankh-Morpork characters, I'll be happy to clarify. :)
xxx
Well, that was a stroke of luck, thought Howl, as they followed the Special Constable Librarian through the streets. Wizards he could deal with. At least, he thought he could deal with them a lot more easily than that troll. When he'd thought the thing was going to crush Sophie…
Thinking of Sophie, he glanced down at her, walking at his side and once more gripping his hand. She wore that mysterious little smile, again. It was unnerving. It was arousing.
"Ook!" said the ape-constable-librarian, looking back at Howl with an accusing eye.
"We're coming," Howl said, and picked up his pace once more. The librarian, now-- there was a wizard with a nasty spell on him if Howl had ever seen one. The spell probably could have been lifted, quite easily in fact, but the ape wore it with pride, self-perpetuating it even more aggressively than Sophie had her old-woman guise.
Then his brain woke up. Unauthorized magic? By heading to the University, was Howl letting them in for more trouble? Surely, he thought, this Archchancellor Ridcully would be grateful to them for returning Dibbler and pointing out their rogue spell. Not all the people here in Ankh-Morpork could be as crazy as Dibbler and Corporal Nobbs, after all. Captain Vimes of the Watch had been pretty understanding. All things considered. Though what had he meant about Howl keeping his mind on the job? Why else were they here?
Sophie was humming, one of the slightly vulgar songs she'd learned from Calcifer. Howl grinned down at her quite stupidly. Oh, he thought.
Well, he couldn't help it, today of all days. Sophie shopping for him, bringing him that horrible little purse. All the responsibility. Sophie's fearlessness and excitement at their small misadventure, and her no-nonsense attitude. Howl imagined that it held an expectant edge. Something had changed between them, and all he knew was that he found her more irresistible than ever, and was even more terrified of losing her.
"I knew it would all turn out," Sophie told him with a grin. He grinned back, again quite stupidly. "Things always do for you, Howl. You are a lucky man."
"I am. But they haven't turned out yet," he warned.
Then a chorus of feminine giggles drew his attention. Just ahead of him the ape-librarian was weaving through a crowd of men shuffling aimlessly about before a grand building.
Actually, grand wasn't the word for it. Gaudy was a bit more apt. This section of street and close-set buildings was decorated with a cheap-looking gilt, little gleaming cherubs perched on every lamppost and stair-landing. One building in particular was painted a blinding white-- a somewhat startling sight in the hazy-sunset atmosphere of Ankh-Morpork-- and its many windows were hung with wine-red curtains and scantily-clad women. "Guild of Seamstresses est. 1723" was picked out in shimmering gold paint on a sign in front of the building.
Seamstresses?
Now Sophie was slowing to gawk, eyes drinking in the garish sights. The ape ooked at her. Howl pulled at her hand, trying to draw her onwards.
"Howl?" The high-pitched shriek drew everyone's attention. Howl caught sight of a tumble of blond hair out a window on the second floor of the Guild of Seamstresses. His heart froze with terror. "Howl! I'd swear that's him. Hey, come here, you!"
Howl could see that Sophie's brown eyes were now very wide and interested. The voice shrieked again, scratching like fingernails on Howl's soul. "Howl! Don't you dare ignore me! I know it's you, even with that black hair! Get back here!"
Howl was saved by Special Constable Librarian, who with an ook of annoyance loped back and grabbed Sophie's hand, pulling her forward. Howl was forced to pick up his pace and follow, lest he lose hold of Sophie. They quickened to a run, a run that took Howl ever-thankfully away from the Guild of Seamstresses and the danger that lurked there. How had that woman--?
"I think I may have taught that girl something," Wilhelmina had said, only earlier today. When they got back to the castle, if they ever got back, Howl would have another long talk with the horrible old ex-witch. He'd bring lots of liquor.
He peeped at Sophie, carefully, expecting to feel the force of her anger, to see the hate in her eyes, to accept the sinking feeling that he'd lost her for good. To his utter amazement, she was laughing as they ran.
"That girl is a tramp," she said, smugly.
"Um," was all Howl could think to reply. Some intelligent bit of his brain spoke up over the fading panic, telling him that it was best not to pursue the matter further. So he didn't.
After a bit, the ape slowed in the growing crowds. In the near distance Howl could see a sprawling, bricked complex of buildings, culminating in an impossibly-tall and oddly-curved tower that lurked above the city in the fading light. Only years of ambient magic could have created something that bizarre-looking, and Howl knew they'd reached Unseen University.
The courtyard through the next gate was crowded with men wandering about carrying books and skulls and wearing pointy hats. Wizards, then, as Ankh-Morpork knew them. The men all had beards and ranged in age from teenager-ish to ancient, based at least upon the beard size and color, which ranged from scraggly brown to full, bushy white. Nearly all of the wizards had scrawny legs peeping from beneath robes of varying dark colors and foodstain patterns. And most of the wizards had pot-bellies.
No wonder the watchmen had been surprised by him, Howl thought. He bathed. This was a land of complacent and socialized wizardry. A far cry from Ingary, where any new wizard was usually good-looking, and might be friend or deadly rival. In Howl's case, it had usually been the latter. The other wizards here gaped back at him just as interestedly, and Howl told himself to be wary.
"Ook," said Special Constable Librarian at Howl. Strangely, he was starting to understand the ape's special language. He was pretty sure that had meant, stay close or you'll get lost.
So they did, and it was a good thing. Inside the building was a labyrinth of passageways and doors even more confusing than the back-alleys of Ankh-Morpork. After several stairways they eventually reached a door marked "M. Ridcully, Arch."
Sophie squeezed Howl's hand and gave him a hopeful smile. He really was lucky, Howl thought, especially after their run-in with that girl whose name Howl couldn't even remember. Then he remembered he'd vowed to forget that girl completely.
The ape scratched at the door and knuckled his way in, and Howl and Sophie followed, and Sophie gaped some more. The round room somewhat resembled Howl's bedroom, except for the bed, and except for the animal heads mounted on the walls and staring at them with dead eyes, and the well-oiled rifles hung next to them. But there was a cluttered couch, a few skulls dripping with wax, and a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling. It was all very wizardly, if the wizard in question was a big-game hunter in his spare time.
An old wizard with a combed beard sat behind a huge desk. And Throat Dibbler sat in a chair in front of it, knees knocking with fear.
"Ah, come in, come in, Mr. Pendragon. And you, young lady," the old wizard stood and said in a hearty, booming voice. "Always good to meet a wizard from another world, what? I think you must be very powerful. I'm Mustrum Ridcully, and I believe you know old C.M.O.T. Dibbler, here. And I believe you have an item to show me?"
The old wizard was a knowing one, Howl would give him that. And he was certainly cleaner than the other wizards he'd seen here, excepting the Constable Librarian. Howl gave the man a little bow and pulled the purse from his pocket once more, laying it on Ridcully's desk.
"Mmm hmmm," Ridcully said, picking it up. "Hmm. You're a rascal, aren't you, Throat? This has a very specific and subtle spell on it, did you know that, Pendragon?"
"I didn't detect anything specific," Howl said, a little uncertainly.
Ridcully waved a somewhat disparaging hand at him. "Oh, I'm not surprised. That's just because it's specific to you. Where'd you get this, Throat, eh? Who sold it to you?"
Dibbler's teeth were chattering. "I thinks I bought it offa girl name o' Della in a place called Lonnon."
Ridcully laughed. "You know a Della in Lonnon, Pendragon?"
"Um," Howl said.
"I knew it!" Sophie said.
"Notice any ill-effects, Pendragon?" Ridcully boomed.
"Like what?"
"I hate to say it in front of the lady."
"Say it, please," Sophie told Ridcully.
Oh, no, not again, Howl thought. Not another one! Dahlia/Delilah/Della/whatever-her-name hadn't seemed the vindictive sort. Though he had left London rather precipitously. "Oh, no, nothing like that going on," he said aloud, waving a dismissive hand. At least, everything seemed to be working as well as ever. He wondered what the spell might be.
Sophie glared at him and crossed her arms over her chest.
"All's well, then. For now," Ridcully laughed and set the purse back on his desk. "We'll take care of this. Ilivin's Fire oughta do it. We've already removed the spell from ol' Throat here. Demned youngsters and their high-energy magic," he said and shook his head.
"Cin I go?" Throat asked.
"Yes, yes, man, get out of here. Stay away from doors for awhile," Ridcully told him. Dibbler was up and out of the chair and out the door instantly, warning or no. Howl began to sigh with relief-- they were going home!-- but then Ridcully looked at him and shook his head. "As for you, my friend-- I'm afraid we'll have to arrest you for unauthorized use of magic. New era of cooperation between UU and the law, mind you. Can't let our first real perpetrator off too lightly, eh, what?"
"What?" Sophie cried.
"What?" Howl spat, feeling his new heart sink into his feet. This is what came of being responsible. "We were just returning him--"
"I know that," Ridcully said. "Thanks. But we can't just let rogue wizards pop in and out as they please, can we? We've finally got wizarding on this Disc all civilized, to the point where one can enjoy a good healthy meal without feeding it to the dog, first. We've gotta move with the times! You ain't the seventh son of a seventh son, by any chance, are you?"
"No," Howl said, not knowing what else to say in that moment.
"Good, good. Our special room oughta work, then. Don't worry, we'll feed you and all, though you don't look like you eat much. You may be here awhile. The Unlicensed Use of Magic Committee hasn't gotten around to drawing up the procedures and penalties yet. They keep taking snack breaks, eh, what? Never decide anything!" He chortled. "She a witch?"
"No!" Howl said. He'd had enough of this. Now was the time to try getting out of here. He grabbed Sophie's hand and waved his free one at the window, which flew open, blowing papers about the room. He started to take off, but then he felt a sharp, powerful pain at the base of his skull. Then he felt nothing.
xxx
End Chapter 9. Hey, I had to mention those girls for a reason! ;)
Please comment, tell me what you think (good or bad). I at least love to know if people are reading.
Going to Worldcon so I may not update before I go; but I warn you that the next part's really nice and gooey. Gooey in my way, anyway. (The gooey parts are my favorites, besides the Nobby Nobbs and Librarian parts.)
Disclaimer: HMC characters owned by Diana Wynne Jones and/or Studio Ghibli; Discworld characters owned by Terry Pratchett. I made no money writing this; it is purely for fun.