Howl's Moving Castle Fanfiction: An Awful Thing Chapter 1 by Jedishampoo

Summary: Howl and Sophie get mixed up in magical and dimensional doings. 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.

***

Clouds were certainly pretty, when seen from the ground. But not many people realized just how chilly and wet they were up close. This morning, though, Howl didn’t mind. He stood on the slender little fenced balcony built to survey the countryside, and surveyed it, and let the passing white mist dampen his face and clothes. From up here, Ingary and its environs looked almost like another world.

Another thing most people didn’t realize was just how many other worlds there were. Stepping into them was like diving into water sideways, except easier. Provided, that is, one was a wizard. And that one was a wizard who knew how to do it. Even fewer knew that, and it was a good thing, too. Just because it was easy didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous.

In his time, Howl had visited several worlds. But he was happiest here, at home, in this simple land where Hatters were hatters and Smiths and Wrights built things, where magic was real.

Sure, there were other magical places. Worlds where a wizard could hardly sneeze without setting off some catastrophic magical reaction. But here in this world, magic was just real enough. Real enough that people spoke of visiting their local witch or sorcerer like they might speak elsewhere of visiting the doctor: with respect, but not fear. Real enough to coexist happily with science, a place where a magical flying castle could employ gears and pistons enough to please any engineer, could be something ordinary and special all at the same time. And be a heck of a lot of fun, to boot.

This was a land of conservative and seamless incongruity, where daughters and sons still went to seek their fortunes, and where the eldest was always expected to mind the shop. Howl had been lucky enough to find a girl who, despite being the eldest of three daughters, had managed to crack a magical curse and to earn the love of the handsome prince.

Well, the handsome and talented wizard, anyway. Howl had met a prince, and knew that of the two of them, he himself was the much better catch.

Speaking of eldest daughters; behind him the door swung outward and Sophie threaded her way along the slim balcony to join him. He turned to watch.

Her eyes were closed, but she was not afraid of the walk or the height. She was merely breathing deeply, enjoying the nip in the early Fall air, same as he.

"What a beautiful morning, Howl. Up here especially." She shivered a little in the cold, but didn’t lose her dreamy smile. "I’ve been out."

"Have you?" Howl asked musingly. He wasn’t really listening to her words, just watching her, and watching her face as she spoke. She gripped the railing and opened her eyes, and as always they lit with pleasure at the sight of the mountain-rimmed lakes and fields, turned white and golden and red by the slipping-away of summer.

Her hand on the rail was slim and unadorned except for Calcifer’s ring on her forefinger. They were not married. Yet. Sophie had turned out to be surprisingly stubborn and independent-minded, something one would not have thought considering her sweet and giving nature. But once her mother and sister had started asking those pointed questions-- when exactly was the wedding to be, and shouldn’t she really be living with her mother and stepfather?-- Sophie had put her foot down and said that she would live where she liked and not be married until she was good and ready. And that had been that.

Not that anything precisely improper was going on, anyway. Not precisely. And they had chaperones enough-- Wilhelmina Witch, Markl, even a dog: as real and complete a family as any man could wish. Howl eyed her fingers on the rail and the way the wind snuggled her pretty pink dress against her figure. His heart thumped a little against his ribs, startling him, but he enjoyed the still-newish sensation for a few moments. After all, he’d only had the heart back for a few short months.

He certainly wouldn’t have minded a little more impropriety-- but that was a subject for another time, so he resolutely forgot it, determined to enjoy the morning and the fresh air and the view while he could.

Why didn’t she want to get married? What would he do without her?

Sophie flicked him in the shoulder with the hand he’d been watching. It took him a moment to realize she’d been staring back at him. "Don’t you want to know where I’ve been?"

"Of course."

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, but she continued. "Shopping. In Kingsbury. Do you want to see what I’ve purchased?"

"Of course," he repeated.

She waggled a finger at him. "Only if you stop saying that." Then she dug into the pocket of her dress and pulled out something shiny and palm-sized. She handed it to him. "It had a pretty girl on it, so I thought you might like it."

Howl could only stare at the item in his hand, unsure what to think. It was a change purse. The picture on it, picked out in pointillism with tiny crystals, was of a smiling blonde woman with improbably red lips and a suggestive white dress. She was pretty. But there was something so very wrong with it, all the same. He just couldn’t figure out what. He stared some more.

Sophie sighed, hurt at his lack of response, and took it back to hold it up in front of his face. She opened and closed it, and opened and closed it again. "It’s supposed to hold money. There’s a cunning little clasp, to keep your coins safe. I paid a very good price for it. I think," she said, looking unsure for a moment. She pulled the purse to her nose and sniffed it. "It does smell rather like sausage, though."

"Sausage."

"You don’t like it."

"It’s not that! It’s just…where did you get it?"

"From a street vendor. He was such a strange man, but he had so many little trinkets, things I’d never seen before. I wanted to buy something, but I really didn’t want any of the food he was selling--"

Howl broke out of his trance and grabbed her wrists, cutting her off. He’d just realized what was wrong with the little purse. It didn’t belong here. And it stank of foreign magic more than it stank of sausage.

"Who was he? Do you remember what he looked like? Could you find him again?"

Her dark eyes widened. "What? Why? Yes, I could if I saw him. He was just walking around, not far from the Royal Square, but you know how I get turned around in Kingsbury--"

"We have to find out where this came from." Howl snatched the purse from Sophie’s hand and used his other to drag her inside. He needed some of his books and magical accoutrements to deal with this one. He didn’t think the horrible little purse itself was a spell, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t conceal one, or entrap him all the same. The fact that Sophie had bought it, and brought it to him-- it could be a coincidence. But then, it could also be the start of some nasty new episode, sent specifically to complicate his brand-new, peaceful life. If that was the case, then who could have sent it to him? Some other girl he’d jilted in his not-so-recent sordid past? A jealous rival? He was a new man, now, staid and faithful. He didn’t deserve this.

"Hey!" Sophie protested, slapping at his hand and dragging her bootheels, sliding on the slick-wet wood of the balcony. "Tell me what’s going on! Do you recognize it? Do you recognize her?"

"No. But she’s not from this world. Come on."

"Are you sure it’s not an old sweetheart?" Sophie’s voice was flat. Now she was prying his fingers from her wrist. She was succeeding, too. He released her arm and looked at her with eyes as wide and beseeching as he could make them.

"It’s not! I just need to look at it more closely. Is Markl awake?"

Sophie just glared at him, unmoved. "Was it sent by one, then?"

She was way too smart for her own good, Howl thought. "No," he said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He didn’t know for sure, after all. He just wasn’t going to bring that up with Sophie, and risk upsetting the happy environment they’d managed to create between them. This blissful existence, where she didn’t want to marry him. For a few moments he considered telling the truth about his suspicions, but ultimately decided he was too afraid. "Do you remember how I told you that you have to be very careful when you visit other worlds? That there’s a reason why so few wizards do it?"

"Oh." Sophie’s troubled expression cleared slightly as she realized that there might be a good reason for this inquisition. She sighed and stopped trying to pry herself free, and followed him inside. "I’ll get Markl, then."

"That’s my girl," Howl said.

***

Sophie sat, arms crossed, in one of the kitchen chairs and watched as Howl and Markl alternately flipped through books and tossed pinches of various magical powders at the little change purse she’d bought in Kingsbury. The kitchen was going to be a mess when they were finally done, and she’d have to be extra-careful when she cleaned, or else risk growing pink fur or something equally horrible.

And she’d thought it was such a cute purse, too. Yet there they were, eyeballing it like it might explode at any moment and doom them all to a fiery death.

Of course, with Howl, that flaming end was entirely possible. She watched him as he bent over the table, black hair falling over his handsome face, long fingers curled beneath his chin. She loved him. But for someone who claimed he’d only ever wanted to be free, Howl had managed to collect some very dangerous enemies. She’d already had experience with some of them; in fact, one of them lived here.

Then, of course, it could be just as Howl had insinuated-- the purse could be dangerous merely because it did not belong here. They’d had that discussion before. Even the most innocent of trinkets, carried across dimensional borders, could infect a new world like germs. It could happen surprisingly quickly, too. In her mind Sophie pictured half the women of Kingsbury sporting bleached-platinum hairdos and white dresses, proliferating the style like a disease in the scant few hours or days the trinket-seller might have been here.

So perhaps it had been a good thing she’d bought it? Somehow, Sophie didn’t think so. She had a sense of being deliberately misdirected, and it upset her. It was just that Howl, never one to really worry about what did not affect him directly, did not strike her as being completely altruistic in wanting to discover the purse’s origins. And everyone wondered why she hadn’t married him yet! Or even, well, never mind. She’d thought that by waiting-- for everything-- she'd give Howl time to learn what it was like to have a heart. To be sure that this was what he wanted.

Was love supposed to be like this? Sophie wondered. How could something that was supposed to be good and happy make her heart squeeze and ache alternately with euphoria, sympathy, pain, or even-- as now-- mistrust?

Calcifer, if he knew what was going on, stayed surprisingly silent on the matter. He merely hovered among his logs, sleepily watching all the activity.

"It must be for you, Master Howl," Markl said, blowing out a breath in frustration at their lack of progress. "Else you’d have been able to trace the magic by now, right?"

"We don’t know that."

"Should I get Granny?" Sophie spoke up. She’d taken to calling the ex-witch Granny, because the old lady had never divulged her real name. Howl called her Wilhelmina as a joke, but never to Granny’s face. Sophie had tried to cure him of that habit, especially in front of the impressionable Markl. "Maybe she can clear this up. She’s had experience with this sort of thing, after all."

"Not necessary," Howl said hurriedly. Too hurriedly, Sophie thought. "Wilhelmina needs her beauty rest, you know. And besides, I told you."

"You’re incorrigible," Sophie told him. But he’d turned his intense blue gaze on her, and his mouth held that perpetual and sensual little half-smile. The girl part of Sophie sighed inwardly, but the rational part of her gathered its wits. "Why don’t we just go find that man again? I’d recognize him anywhere."

Howl sighed and dropped into another one of the kitchen chairs, limbs going loose with a whoomph. Then just as quickly he straightened. "Hey!" He’d seemed to have reached some sort of brilliant idea; his smile widened and his eyes narrowed. "You know, it’s really not our problem. If he’s in the city, then it’s something the city needs to deal with, don’t you think?"

"What a lazy way to think. I like it," Granny said as she waddled into the room, wrapped in her robe. She patted Markl on the head and leered at Howl. "I bet Madame Suliman would love to have a look at that thing."

Howl’s cheeks went a little pink as he seemed to realize that he might have been overheard calling her Wilhelmina. But he looked thoughtful. "You know, you just might be right."

"You don’t really want to go to her, do you?" Sophie asked. She shivered at the thought of facing that formidable old sorceress once more. She’d never blamed Howl for avoiding her.

"No. But it’s exactly the sort of thing she would want to handle. And then I can stop worrying about it."

Sophie felt her heart clench and ache again, this time with profound relief. If Howl was willing to see Madame Suliman, then this little magical item couldn’t have involved him at all; he really hadn’t been hiding anything. She smiled. She knew it was a girly, besotted sort of smile, but she didn’t care. Oh, how she loved him! She should never have doubted him. These ups and downs were somewhat exhilarating, she decided. "I’ll go with you!"

Howl turned the full force of his grin on her, and Sophie felt her ankles tingle. "Am I a lucky man or what?" he said.

"Be sure and tell her hello from me," Calcifer said, and went back to cuddling his logs.

"And from me too," said Granny.

***

Howl pushed back the branches of the hedge so that Sophie could step through. The boughs were old and strong, and it required a bit of physical effort that he wasn’t used to exerting. And the leaves were a bit thorny. He hoped they wouldn’t tear his nice shirt. He didn’t dare use extra magic here on the grounds of the palace, however. The concealment spell he’d put on himself and Sophie for the trip here had been risky enough.

Sophie hopped through and gave him a nervous smile. She’d put on all her best clothes and dignity for the coming interview, but had seemed happy all the same when Howl had told her they’d be coming in through the back. This way, they wouldn’t have to climb all the steps and be announced by every footman they passed. Howl smiled at her, watching her graceful movements, and admiring how her silvery hair went so well with her dark green dress. His heart gave that delightful little thump again, and he considered giving her a little kiss of appreciation.

But they were here on business, and Madame Suliman was just where he’d known she’d be-- where she always was when she was receiving visitors; sitting in the indoor garden, surrounded by her loyal little matched blond apprentices. Howl had been one of those, once.

Suliman’s expression was calm as he and Sophie stepped through the glass door and closed it with a little click.

"Howl. What a pleasant surprise," she said, with her most unreadable little smirk. But she didn’t look surprised at all, and Howl was not surprised by her lack of surprise. "And Mrs. Pendragon. How lovely."

Sophie, bless her, was calm and collected and brave as she’d ever been. "My name is Miss Sophie Hatter," she said, with a quick little ironic curtsey.

"Of course," Suliman said, still smirking. She turned her cool gaze from Sophie to Howl. "Where’s my dog, Howl?"

"At home in front of the fire, I guess." His voice hardly quavered at all.

"Impertinent as ever," she told him. But she seemed truly amused. "Sitting on the lap of the Witch of the Waste, I suppose? I’m not sure you weren’t better off without a heart. Yours is entirely too soft. How you do collect misfits, Howl."

Beside him, Sophie stiffened and sniffed. Howl searched his mind quickly for a suitable rejoinder. Damn Suliman. The woman did love a good verbal sparring match.

"Not at all. They seem to collect me." Howl immediately realized his mistake, but it was too late to retract the statement. He’d meant it as an insult to Suliman, but Sophie not only stiffened some more, she yanked her arm from his and crossed it with her other across her midsection.

Her point won, Suliman’s expression took on a more businesslike aspect. "Now, what have you brought me?" she asked, and Howl had no time to explain himself to Sophie. He reached into a pocket and pulled out the little change purse. Suliman’s eyes widened the tiniest bit. Then she stretched out a languid hand for it. She stared at it in her palm for a moment, then laughed. "How wonderful!"

She’d needed no explanation, just as Howl had known she wouldn’t. He coughed. "Sophie only got it this morning. I bet you could still catch the man who sold it, if you hurry."

Suliman tossed it back at him, and by pure reflex, Howl caught it. Stupid. "Then you’d better start now, Howl," she said.

This was not what he’d planned. He’d been hoping to be rid of it, or that Suliman might take pity upon him out of guilt over that awful war she’d allowed to continue for so long. He should have known better. He tried his hardest not to whine as he said, "don’t you think your minions might be better suited to clearing up this little problem?"

"Whether you realize it or not, you are one of my minions, Howl."

Now she was just being nasty. Howl started to get a little angry. "I came here of my own free will. You did not summon me," he told her.

"Oh no? Consider yourself summoned, then. And dismissed."

"Now you wait just a minute--" Howl began, then he felt Sophie grab his arm again, with both hands, hard.

"Fine! We’ll take care of this matter, and we don’t need your help to do it," Sophie told her in a snippety little voice, goaded once more into defense of Howl by Suliman’s amused nastiness. She started pulling on his arm. She yanked so hard that his shirt was now truly in danger. "Let’s get out of here, Howl, and let’s never come back again! She can summon you all she wants. I will absolutely refuse to let you answer."

"Okay," Howl said, trying to maintain as much dignity as possible while being dragged backwards. He gave Suliman a saucy little wave, and then spun about to follow Sophie. Good for Sophie; she was heading for the front door, refusing to sneak out of here the way they’d come in. No scared little mouse was she. Oh, how he loved her!

But Suliman was not to let him go without a parting shot. "You really should marry that girl, Howl," she said, with a little laugh.

***

"Horrible woman!" Sophie said as she dragged Howl down the interminable steps. Horrible man, she didn’t say aloud. People in the square were staring at them, but she didn’t care, so angry was she. She was going to stomp out her wrath on the cobblestones, and they could just enjoy the show. The only problem was, she wasn’t quite sure where she was going. "Why don’t you make yourself useful, Howl, and point me toward Regent Street? I’m sure that’s where I was this morning."

"Sophie! What? Slow down," Howl said. She didn’t have to look back at him to hear the laugh in his voice, and it only made her angrier. She was no misfit; she was going to take care of this, just like she took care of everything else. Love was such an awful thing. No wonder men sang about it and wrote poems about it and talked about it so much. They were all such idiots, love was the only chance they had of getting women to actually be near them for any length of time.

"No! We’ve got to hurry," she said. Stupid, she didn’t say aloud.

Sophie heard Howl give a long-suffering sigh. "Wait," he said, and twisted sharply, using her death-grip on his arm to swing her into a little side alley. He yanked his arm free and then grabbed her shoulders to give them a little jiggle. "Why are you mad at me? Surely you don’t think I meant you? Do you?"

He wasn’t even pretending to misunderstand her. Perhaps he was less stupid than she’d thought a few seconds ago, but that didn’t make him even less a man. And he was so close now, it was distracting, and his eyes had that intent look in them, the one she couldn’t stare into for long. She tried her best to stare back, and didn’t speak.

"Do you?" Howl repeated. He was smiling again, and squeezing her shoulders, and her heart was pressing so hard against her breastbone that it hurt. Howl went on. "She is a horrible woman. You knew that. She’ll twist your words until you don’t know what you’re saying, and no matter how clever you think you are, you always realize too late that you’re completely out of her league. Why do you think I spent all that time running from her?"

"I know," Sophie sighed, reluctant to release her anger. Anger felt so good. It gave one a purpose, kept one from feeling so unsure and befuddled all the time. Things had been so clear a few months ago. Now she was in this weird limbo, where nothing she thought or did made sense, and the slightest word or event sent her off in these wild, spiraling directions. Love was an awful thing for more reasons than one. She couldn’t think, not logically, when he was this close to her. And Howl was entirely too good at being that close. Sophie finally found her tongue again. "She just made me so mad! And then when you said that!"

"I know." Now he was leaning his forehead into hers, and kissing her nose, and his voice was so reasonable and sweet that Sophie’s body turned boneless, sagging against the wall like she had no control over it, which she didn’t. "And I meant her. But you-- you were wonderful! Fantastic!"

"Really?" Sophie managed to whisper, now feeling proud but pathetic at the same time-- how was that possible? It was because he was kissing her, lips so soft and coaxing, and her hands moved of their own volition to his chest, and it was warm and she could feel his heart thumping there, so alive and full of promise.

"Oh, yes," he whispered against her lips, with heated puffs of breath. "And wow, but you’re pretty when you’re angry. Pink cheeks look great on you."

"Oh! You!" Sophie said, and pushed at his chest, shoving him away from her. He only laughed, and Sophie felt the heat rush through her limbs and stain her cheeks and realized that she was still pathetic. But at least he’d allowed her to break that deliciously uncomfortable moment. "Don’t you think we really should find that man, at least?"

"As long as you’re not mad at me," Howl said, stepping back.

"No," she said, and it was the truth. This up-and-down of emotions was wearing her out. "Regent Street?"

"Follow me," he said and took her hand in his. By the time they’d walked a few blocks she could let him do it with most of her equanimity intact, and could feel that her feet were on solid ground.

The streets were more crowded than they’d been this morning. They teemed with fish vendors from Porthaven and vegetable sellers from the countryside and all manner of shoppers winding among the stalls. Sophie began to worry that she’d never find the sausage-man again. He’d seemed to appear from nowhere this morning, approaching her and pressing his wares upon her as she’d gawked at the market. But then she heard a familiar call over the mumbling noise of the crowd.

"Sausages inna bun! Sausages!"

That’s what the man this morning had said to her. Sophie tried to stand on tiptoe to peer over the crowds, cursing herself for not being taller. But soon she spotted the man’s odd metal hat, and in the air next to it, his hand-held stick ringed with knobs and little trinkets.

"Howl, he’s over there!" she said, and pointed in the direction of the voice.

Howl waggled his fingers and the crowd parted easily before them, people stepping aside and looking as if they were unsure they’d meant to. And there was the ugly, scrawny man from this morning, and his plate of sausages. Sophie caught a whiff of them.

"That must be him," Howl said. "I recognize that smell."

As if by some instinct, the man turned and glanced their way and in the same instant twisted and started to run, almost before Howl had completed his sentence. Sophie began to say, Oh no, but Howl had already let out a little whoop of delight and taken off after him.

The trinket-man was fast, Sophie would give him that. It was as if his scrawny, sickly-looking legs had learned long ago how to evade pursuit. And given his disgusting sausages and his nefarious magical dealings, it seemed he’d had a lot of practice.

But he was no match for Howl. Sophie went along for the ride and watched with some pride as Howl sped them onward so fast the crowd was a colorful blur. Soon they stood before the little man, and Howl gripped his shoulder.

"We’d like to talk to you," Howl told him with a bit of a smug grin. "Please come with us."

"Don’t wanna!" the man cried, eyes flickering like a trapped rabbit’s in every direction, as if seeking help or a way out. Apparently finding neither, he screwed his face into a miserable, wheedling expression. "If I don’t sell these sausages, I’ll be broke! I’m cutting me own throat selling ‘em this cheap, but I’ve got a wife and starvin’ kids at home--"

"I’ll pay you for the sausages," Howl said. "But you’ll have to leave them here."

***

"Me name’s Dibbler," the dirty little man said. He’d opened up quickly enough once he’d realized he was dealing with a wizard and a fire demon. He still looked a bit frightened, but his words and demeanor held a sort of quaint, greasy pride. "C.M.O.T. Dibbler."

"C.M.O.T.?" asked Sophie.

"C.M.O.T.," echoed Markl, screwing up his nose.

Howl couldn’t blame the boy. The awful smell that had hovered about the man in the market hadn’t only come from his sausages. He was so ugly that even Wilhelmina wasn’t flirting with him. And he was sitting on one of Howl’s nice kitchen chairs. Sophie would not be happy, cleaning this room later.

"Charles Marcus Ogden Thomas?" suggested Calcifer.

But C.M.O.T. Dibbler did not elaborate, just stared at all of them in turn.

"You’re not from around here, are you?" Howl prompted. He wasn’t used to performing this kind of interrogation. It was the sort of thing Suliman was best at, and he felt yet another twinge of annoyance at the way she’d refused to deal with the problem. And at how angry she’d made Sophie. Or rather, how she’d made him make Sophie angry at him. Or something.

"Nah. I’m just visitin’."

"Chop My Own Trees?" said Wilhelmina-- Granny, Howl reminded himself-- and cackled at her own wit.

"Carry My Own Things?" guessed Markl. The boy had noticed Dibbler’s sign-pole hung with junk and his filthy satchel full of dubious treasures, and was sifting through them with round eyes. Howl caught sight of what looked like grimy candies, some gaudy fake jewelry, and other things he thought he should recognize, but didn’t. There were little black boxes with glass circles in their fronts, and silver rings with pictures attached to them-- hadn't he seen those somewhere before? and-- Howl turned back to Dibbler. Now was not the time to gawk.

"And you’re from… where?" he continued.

"I’m from Ankh-Morpork," Dibbler told them, with a little smirk. "Greatest city in the world."

Howl did not know the place. That was unfortunate. He’d hoped it would be an easy thing to return the man to where he belonged, but it was starting to look like he might actually have to expend some effort to solve this little mystery.

"He’s got magic all over him, Howl," Calcifer warned.

"I know," Howl agreed. The man was absolutely covered in layers of magic. Dibbler was no wizard himself-- Howl would have known that instantly-- but somehow he’d managed to travel between worlds, and more than one, to boot. Howl pulled out the change purse, and waved it in Dibbler’s face. "Can you tell me where you got this?"

"Cecil Max Oliver Thornton?" Sophie mused. Howl rolled his eyes at her, and she turned up her nose at him. But he saw her secret little smile. That was a good sign.

"I think I got it in a place called Lonnon," Dibbler said. He stuck out a disgusting tongue for emphasis. "I din’t like it. It was smelly, crowded and dirty. And comin’ from a place like Ankh-Morpork, that’s sayin’ something."

Howl had been to London, too, and he hadn’t liked it much, either. Except for that one girl... Dahlia, or something like that. She’d been only too willing to show a new young wizard about town, though she hadn’t really believed Howl was a wizard. London was not a place for magic; Howl had learned quickly to hide his nature. London was, however, a place full of very fast young women...

Whoa! Howl caught himself. He was a changed man, now, staid and faithful. Look how responsible he was being! He shook his head to clear it.

"Can you tell us more about Ank More Pork?" Sophie interjected. She gave Dibbler her sweetest smile.

Dibbler preened a little. "Like I said, the greatest city in the world. Can’t believe you’ve not heard of it, you being Pendragon, Wizard at Magic and all." He was quoting the new sign on the Kingsbury door at them. "On the Sto Plain? River Ankh? Home of Unseen University? Chock full o’ wizards."

"Unseen University? Wizards?" Howl interjected. Now they were getting somewhere. "Did they send you here?"

"Uh. Not ‘zactly." Dibbler looked discombobulated for a moment, and then he caught sight of Markl and Wilhelmina digging through his things. "’Ere! Don’t you touch that!"

"Carries Much Odd Trash," Calcifer tried.

"It’s ‘Cut Me Own Throat,’ damn you! ‘Throat’ for short, but only to me friends. Which I’ll cut yours iffen you don’t stop pawin’ through me things!"

"Don’t worry, Mr. Dibbler, we don’t want to steal your wares," Sophie said. Howl hadn’t noticed Sophie step away, but now he saw her returning with a glass of ale. She handed it to Dibbler with another of her wonderful smiles, and pulled up a chair to sit next to him. Howl was all in awe; he’d not been brave enough to get so close once they were inside. Sophie continued to butter the man up. "You’re probably thirsty, and you’ve had a long day. Tell us more about your travels-- we're just not used to strangers, and we’re curious."

Dibbler beamed at her, and leered. Sophie managed to look expectant and pleased as Dibbler gulped the ale. Howl’s awe grew by leaps. It worked. Dibbler opened up amazingly.

"Well, young lady, I been a lot o’ places lately. I went to this world full o’ pink fuzzy things, but I din’t like it there. That London, I din’t like it, neither. Though as you see I got lots o’ good stuff there." He gestured at his bag, which Markl had managed to quit violating for a few moments. Wilhelmina was still digging, but she was better at hiding her thievery. "There was a land o’ giant trees, that was pretty. But I’m a businessman, as you see, so I picked up things here an’ there. I was doing really well sellin’ stuff in this town, especially. See, I got magical powers hangin’ around outside the University. One morning I woke up feelin’ all funny, and suddenly I could see all these black, hazy doors. So I walked through one of ‘em."

That’s what they’d been waiting to hear, thought Howl. Calcifer obviously thought so, too; he cracked his flames loudly in triumph. Good for Sophie! Howl sat and leaned closer.

Dibbler talked, and talked, to Sophie at least. And Howl and Markl and Granny and Calcifer listened. Apparently Dibbler was a sort of pariah in his own city, though he didn’t say so in as many words. These other worlds through the black, hazy doors had offered him the business opportunity of a lifetime, the chance to sell things in places where people wouldn’t chase him away with torches and swords. At least not right away, Howl thought, remembering the sausages.

But Howl was mostly unmoved in that respect. Dibbler couldn’t stay here in Ingary, that was for certain, and someone so unlearned and uncouth could not be allowed to roam free through all those unsuspecting worlds. Howl was sure he could send Dibbler back where he belonged; that would be easy. Like tossing a stone into a lake. Once he knew where the world was, that is. But the rogue spell which had allowed Dibbler to see the doors-- that would have to be removed in this Ankh-Morpork. That Unseen University sounded promising in that regard.

Howl had a natural mistrust of organized wizard-dom. But he really had no choice in this matter. Surely there was someone there who would be willing clean up their own spells and ensure that Dibbler wreaked no further havoc on existence.

Howl stood and paced, causing Dibbler to halt his extended attempt to impress Sophie. They all looked up at him.

"You’ll have to go back home, you know," Howl announced. Dibbler gasped in protest, and Calcifer emitted a short, evil laugh. Howl shook the purse at Dibbler again. "This might as well go, too. And all those other things on my table. We’ll deal with the rest of the things you’ve sold after that’s done."

"Don’t wanna," Dibbler said.

There was more. Dibbler could not be trusted to seek magical ‘treatment’ himself. Howl shot an apologetic glance at Sophie. "I’m afraid I’ll have to go with you. I don’t see any other way."

"Then I’m going, too," Sophie announced.

Sophie won’t like this, Howl thought. "No. I’m not sure yet where ‘there’ is." He gave her his most melting smile, hoping it would soothe her, while being entirely sure that it wouldn’t. "Don’t worry! I’ll be there and back soon enough, and I won’t get hurt. I promise."

"I’m not worried about your safety," Sophie grated out between clenched teeth. She stood, and shook her fists. "It’s just-- that was my purse, I bought it, and if you think I’m going to let-- Oooooh!"

She stomped down the steps, turned the dial to yellow for Market Chipping, then whisked out the door and slammed it behind her.

Howl stared at the shut door for a few stunned moments. He’d not thought that Sophie would be happy at his leaving, but who would have thought she’d get that angry? What was wrong with her lately, anyway? It seemed that all he had to do anymore was look at her funny, or merely look at her at all, and she went all pink and snippy.

Howl’s heart stopped for a moment at the awful suspicion that crawled into his brain. Maybe she was going to leave him. She didn’t want to marry him, after all. What would he do without her? Should he go after her? Everyone was staring at him.

All of a sudden he really, really, really wanted to go somewhere and mope for a while. It had been ages since he’d had a good session of old-fashioned self-pity.

"Don’t you worry, handsome. She’ll be back," Wilhelmina said into the dazed silence. "At least she’s not moping and sighing anymore."

Calcifer merely snapped his flames, in agreement or argument, Howl couldn’t tell.

Now, then, was apparently not a good time to have a mope himself. Drama was a one-man show, anyway. Or one-woman, as the case may be. Howl looked at Markl. "You’ll help me, then, I hope?" Markl nodded.

Howl sighed. Fine. He’d do the location spell for Ankh-Morpork, first. Then he’d find Sophie, say goodbye. Then he’d go to this University. Then, when this mess was taken care of, he’d indulge himself. He’d find a thundering rainstorm, and a nice mud puddle, and a few spare hours to be good and tragic.

Howl looked at Dibbler, intending to appear stern, but the best he could do was give an embarrassed shrug that said, women.

End Part 1

On to Part Two

Title: An Awful Thing Part 2

By: Jedishampoo (Jedishampoo at aol dot com)

Rating: PG-13 for some sauciness and romance.

Summary: Howl and Sophie get mixed up in magical and dimensional doings. Humor/Adventure/Romance thingie. Crossover between Howl’s Moving Castle and Terry Pratchett’s Discworld.

***

Sophie didn’t go far. She sat just outside, on the steps, debating whether or not to bang her head against the iron railings. Why had she behaved like such a-- such a child? She’d rivaled her sister Lettie at her worst. When Lettie had been ten. And here she’d thought Howl would be the one throwing tantrums in this particular household.

There had been no real reason for her to be angry. It was just… everything. The purse. This morning, she’d so looked forward to giving it to Howl, and seeing him laugh. Except he hadn’t. It had only caused trouble. Then the visit to Madame Suliman, occasion enough to make anyone angry. Except she’d gotten angry at Howl. And then he’d just grinned at her and tried to kiss her out of her bad humor. And it had worked. How sickening was that?

It was not like he’d never kissed her before. But today-- all that emotion, and those weird melty feelings, all wound up in there. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

That was the problem. It seemed that all she could do these days was stare at him, thinking the most outrageous things. And he would turn and see her, and look so-- so-- smug. Like he knew what she was thinking. But he never did anything about it.

And just now! She’d almost said, "think I’m going to let you go to other places alone?" Sophie held her hot face in her hands and tried to shiver out her embarrassment. Why shouldn’t Howl go somewhere alone, if he had to? He’d run about as he pleased before she came along. True, he’d been in a lot of trouble and in the end, only Sophie had been able to help him. But that didn’t mean she had to be glued to him.

And he was being so responsible right now. Taking care of the situation himself. Sophie needed to take care of herself before she tried to tell everyone else what to do.

When one was at one’s lowest, one had no choice but to be truthful. Facing the facts was hard. But Sophie had to face the sad fact that she had become insecure. She had all these feelings jumping about inside of her, and she hadn’t done anything about them. It was the waiting, her decision, which had been the wrong one. She’d treated the last few months like it was a test of Howl’s loyalty. Had it been really fair of her, to force her new-found stubbornness upon him, and see if he passed?

The naked answer to that was no.

Sophie sat up, and let the fall breezes cool her cheeks. She needed to apologize. She heard voices. They were coming from inside, through the cracked window.

Inside, they obviously hadn’t turned the dial back to Kingsbury, because she could hear almost everything if she scooted a little closer. She wondered if they were talking about her, and felt her cheeks heat again at the thought.

"’Er name’s Mary Lynn Monner, is what I heard," Dibbler was saying. "Bit o’ all right, ain’t she?"

"Mary Lynn Monner," Howl repeated. "Doesn’t sound familiar. It’s not helping. Besides, that’s not where you’re from. Sit still for a moment and let me draw this circle--"

They weren’t talking about her at all, Sophie realized with either relief or ire, she couldn’t decide. Probably a bit of both. They were talking about the purse, and Howl was working magic. Then she realized she’d come to her first realization too soon.

"Yer girlfriend, she’s awful pretty, too," Dibbler continued. "Sweet little thing. Bags o’ spirit."

Sophie heard Granny laugh, and Markl said, "what?"

"Girlfriend?" Howl asked.

"What else are you gonna call her, lover?" That was Granny.

"I call her Sophie," Howl replied, sounding distracted.

"If you’re talking about Sophie, then of course she’s pretty," Markl said. Sophie felt a wave of affection for the boy. It was quickly superceded. "I think she’s prettier even than that other girl, Howl. The blonde one you brought here that one time. Boy, was she surprised when I came downstairs."

"I don’t know what girl you’re talking about, Markl," Sophie heard Howl say. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"Of course. But you remember." Markl sounded exasperated. "The one who barged in and started screaming and yelling? The one who said she couldn’t believe she’d let you sample her womanly charms? The one with the long blonde hair?"

"Oh, her. I need to concentrate, Markl. I don’t want to talk about her right now."

"I’ll just bet you don’t," Calcifer interjected.

Howl snickered.

Sophie didn’t want to listen to any more of this, but it was almost impossible not to. The pigs.

Granny was speaking. "I think I know that girl. She came to me, all the way out to the Wastes. She begged me to teach her how to hex you or something silly like that. She was a tramp."

"Uh huh huh," said Howl, in a shuddering sort of way, as if the thought of that girl after him with magic had terrified him beyond belief.

"I said, Honey, I do all my own curses. That’s how I met your girlfriend there. Though I may have taught that girl something. A drink might help me remember."

"Hmph. Almost done," Howl said. Sophie heard a poof of something magical working. "What a horrible old woman you are."

"Don’t I know it."

"Sophie is too nice. She let you off easy," he continued.

"That, too." Granny laughed. Calcifer laughed. Dibbler laughed. Markl just said ‘what?’ again.

Sophie couldn’t take any more of this. Now she had a reason to be angry. They weren’t only laughing at her-- that, that tramp girl-- they were laughing at Sophie. And all the young women who’d ever had their hearts cut out and eaten by callous young men.

And Sophie was not nice. Nice is what the old Sophie had been, the Sophie who’d stayed late at the shop and let all the other girls have fun. Nice Sophie was the one who cleaned that man’s castle and put up with his moods just because she couldn’t bear to leave his side, couldn’t bear not to look at his pretty face all the livelong day. And who told herself that she was being a good girl, waiting for just the right moment. What if that moment had already come and gone? Howl certainly never asked anything of her, just took her for granted.

And that thought made absolutely no sense at all.

Sophie didn’t care. She stood, and whipped around to face the door. She knew she still couldn’t bear to ever leave him, but now at least she had a good excuse to go back in there and give him a whopping piece of her mind. Clarity. It would feel really good. And after that, she’d-- well, she’d see.

She opened the door. Howl, his back to her, was kneeling just outside a chalk circle drawn around ‘Throat’ Dibbler’s chair. As she marched up the entryway, Howl began to stand, arms held out to his sides, blue shirtsleeves billowing.

"Howl!" she said.

He turned and looked at her and a myriad of emotions flitted across his eyes-- confusion, joy, and then dawning horror.

"Sophie-- you're back! I wanted to say-- wait-- Give me a moment-- No! So--"

Too late, Sophie realized that they had been in the middle of the location spell. Howl’s hair was flying, and Calcifer in his grate was flaring blue. She tried to halt but she’d been stomping so hard she couldn’t lose her momentum.

And Heen chose that moment to leap in front of her. The poor thing had probably been trying to help her to stop, but she tripped over him, falling right onto Howl and knocking them both into the circle and onto Dibbler’s lap.

My, he smells, Sophie thought, and then everything went black and her stomach dropped to her feet.

An instant later, light returned-- a grubby grey light-- and she was sprawled on top of Dibbler and Howl, and they were all sprawled among the debris of a dirty alleyway.

"--Phie!" Howl said in a muffled voice. His face was buried in Dibbler’s greasy shirt.

Ooops, Sophie thought, as she smacked Dibbler’s groping hand from her bottom and scooted back into a sitting position on the cobbled ground.

Howl crawled next out of the pile and sat across from her, propped back on his hands, staring at her with wide eyes peeping from beneath his mussed black hair. Neither of them spoke. They both turned as one to watch as Dibbler righted himself. He sniffed the air. From somewhere nearby Sophie heard an aged voice cackle, Buggrit! Millennium hand and shrimp!

Tears formed in Dibbler’s eyes. "Home!" he said, and leaned over to kiss the ground.

Sophie couldn’t help it. The emotion would come out of her, involuntary as a sneeze, whether she wanted it to or not. She laughed, and laughed, until tears trickled out of her own eyes.

Howl just stared at her, mouth agape.

"I’m sorry-- snort-- Howl," she said between wracking giggles that made her stomach hurt. "But it-- snort-- looks like I forced you to take me along after all!"

"You scare me sometimes," Howl told her after a moment.

"Good," she said, and laughed and laughed.

***

Well, Howl thought, here they were, it seemed. Ankh-Morpork, the ‘greatest city in the world.’

It didn’t look all that fabulous. Admittedly, they probably weren’t getting the best possible view of the city, roaming the rat-warrens of back alleys as they were. Even so, the place was a bit more grimy and lived-in than any city Howl had visited in Ingary. The people on the street pretended to ignore them, but unseen eyes watched them from behind every pile of trash and every dingy-curtained window. They were eyes that assessed the strangers and wondered how much money they were carrying, how much their clothes might be worth, and how easy or not it might be to take those things from them. Yes, this was a city with teeth.

Howl wanted to get to this Unseen University as quickly as possible. He wanted to be rid of Dibbler. And he wanted a bath. Not necessarily in that order.

But he’d bespelled Dibbler to head for the University, so they had no choice but to follow the strange little man on his circuitous route. If Howl wasn’t so confident in his own magic he would have thought that Dibbler was deliberately trying to get them lost.

Sophie didn’t seem to care. She had a firm grip on Howl’s hand, and was tripping along beside him with a smile on her face and a jaunty step that sent her silvery hair bouncing about her shoulders. Howl tried to see what she might be seeing, to see what was so wonderful about the smoky-grey walls and laundry and the shuffling, evil-looking denizens of this place, and couldn’t fathom it. Really, if she wanted to see other worlds, he knew of some better ones they could visit.

And he suddenly remembered that he’d never offered.

She looked, happy, though. When she’d burst back into the castle there had been murder in her eyes. Now might be a good time to find out why.

"Soooo..." he said, drawing the syllable out very carefully and tentatively. "What were you going to say, before the…uhh…spell went wrong?"

Sophie didn’t even look at him, only shook her head. "Nothing. Don’t worry about it right now."

That only frightened him more. Howl strongly suspected she was aware of this fact.

"So. Do you like it here?"

She shook her head again. "It’s awful. But I’m glad I saw it. It’s different. The sky is even different, I think."

That would be the pollution, thought Howl. They didn’t seem to have motorcars or those little flyers here, but a shroud of humidity mixed with greasy fire-smoke hung over the city like a wet, stinky blanket. Howl coughed.

"Um," he began again. "I wasn’t going to go without saying goodbye."

"I know that. Let’s just finish this and get home." Her voice was almost sing-song-y, and yet hard-edged and spooky at the same time. This Sophie was one he’d not yet seen. It was mysterious. He decided he liked it. It was kind of exciting.

Howl slipped his hand from Sophie’s to curl his arm around her waist and pull her close to his side. She didn’t object. And she felt great. She squished against him in all the right places. He also discovered that if he leaned over just so as they were walking, he could sort of see down the front of her green dress.

Howl decided that he’d had enough of being completely responsible for one day. He was on an adventure, and he had a pretty girl at his side. An increase in noise, the chattering of hundreds of voices, signaled that they were reaching a more populated area. Sure enough, ahead he could see the alley oozing through a narrow gap into a crowded market-type square. But there was nobody right here.

"Hold up," he said, and slowed his pace. Sophie, glued to his side, had to do the same. He took a couple of steps backwards until his rear end hit a wall. Oh well, he was already filthy. "We’ll finish this business soon enough."

"Not if we lose him."

"We’ll find him again. He’ll be all right," Howl told her, and circled her waist with his other arm. She smelled wonderful, a little circle of fresh air in the nasty atmosphere of Ankh-Morpork. And she was all warm from their walk. He found it terribly erotic. So he leaned his head down to kiss her.

Sophie gave him a chaste little peck, then looked up at him with narrowed brown eyes. "Two alleys in one day," she said in an odd voice. But she didn’t pull away.

"I’m a lucky man," he told her, but it came out sounding more like "ma morf mn" because he hadn’t even waited to speak before kissing her again. And this time she didn’t stop him, but freed her arms from her sides to wind her little hands in the hair at the back of his neck. Her fingers tickled. It was marvelous.

And this kiss was decidedly less chaste. Her lips were open and Howl could taste her breath and the inside of her mouth. His heart was a frightening thing sometimes. It was stretched so tight he thought it might burst, but it did cause such a lovely rushing of the blood through his ears whenever he kissed her.

Sophie’s fingers in the collar of his shirt were magic. His arms and legs didn’t exist; he might as well slide down the wall, boneless, taking her with him. Well, not entirely--

"Help!" a cracked voice cried from somewhere, trying to intrude upon Howl’s ecstasy. "Watch! Help! I bin kidnapped!"

That was Dibbler, one part of his brain said. So what, said another.

But Sophie jumped back, hair flying as she whipped her head about, looking for the voice. "That was Dibbler!" she said, then set her hands on her hips and gave Howl an accusing look. Her cheeks were pink. She looked amazing. "Howl! Pay attention! Didn’t you silence him, at least?"

"I…" Howl shook his head to surface from his haze. "I-- well-- I didn’t think it would matter if he talked!"

Sophie rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand. "Come on, before we do lose him!"

They ran, soon reaching the end of the alley. They stopped for a moment, and Howl surveyed the crowded square with some dismay. Dibbler had stopped yelling and at first Howl couldn’t-- wait, there was a bit of his own magic, right there. Howl waved his finger, trying to use his most inconspicuous spell. The crowd parted slightly, and Howl saw Dibbler’s back, his feet flapping behind it with surprising speed. He was heading for a-- well, it sort of looked like a man-- wearing a battered metal helmet and breastplate and a pugnacious expression. Howl took off after Dibbler, flicking a silencing spell on him for good measure.

At first Howl thought the spell had gone a little wild, because the ambient noise level in the square dropped considerably. But as he and Sophie ran, he began to realize that people were just turning about, trying to see what was going on.

Dibbler reached the man and looked like he was trying to stop, but he only slid, veering off in another direction. He ran away slowly, like he was underwater.

That would be Howl’s other spell doing its work, the directional spell he’d put on Dibbler when they’d arrived in the city.

"Throat?" the sort-of man, the watchman, called after Dibbler’s back, pulling something small and damp from between his lips and sticking it behind his ear. "Where you been? Where you goin’? Oo’d wanna kidnap you?"

Howl sighed and flicked a confusion spell at the… man, then swerved to follow Dibbler.

"Whass goin’ on? Was that Throat Dibbler? Where am I? Watch! Help!" the watchman yelled, running in circles. Howl realized that he’d probably not chosen the best spell to use at that moment, but there was no time to worry about it. Now people were standing and staring in earnest. They had to get out of here, find Dibbler--

And Howl suddenly he realized he was running straight towards a stone wall. He skidded to a stop, but Sophie wasn’t so lucky. She kept going. Howl winced, and his heart stopped. The wall caught her.

"’Ere! Wot’s all dis, den?" the wall asked.

Howl saw the massive rocky arm about Sophie, and looked up. And up. And up. A regular mountain of a thing was glaring at him with unreadable onyx eyes. And it was wearing a massive breastplate, and holding the largest crossbow Howl had ever seen.

"Nuffink to see here, move along," the mountain said to the crowd, which ignored him completely. Then it turned back to Howl and said, "You! Halt! In de name of de law."

"Izzat Sergeant Detritus? Help me, you stupid troll! I’m over ‘ere!" Howl’s earlier victim was still spinning and yowling.

A troll? Howl waved a hand at it, trying to get it to drop Sophie. Nothing happened.

"Why you wavin’ your hand like dat? What you do to Corporal Nobbs?" Its eyes narrowed to hard, dark jewels. It lifted its arm, taking Sophie with it. Her brown eyes were frightened, and she let out a little yelp, of pain or fear, Howl couldn’t tell, he was so panicked. The market area froze in a crystal moment; the odd clothing on the people and the strange statues with the heads of animals popping up through the throngs like mountains above the clouds. Everything was picked out in utter, terrifying clarity.

"Don’t hurt her! I give up," Howl said when he could breathe again, and raised his hands.

***

End Chapter 1

On to Chapter 2

Click HERE to e-mail Jedishampoo