The Count of Catterack assured her that Michael would be fetchedand brought down to the entrance hall to meet her. It was no troubleat all. He took Sophie to a gloved attendant himself and handed herover with much bowing and smiling. Sophie was handed to anotherattendant, then another, just as before, and eventually hobbled herway down to the stairs guarded by the soldiers.

Michael was not there. Neither was Howl, but that was a smallrelief to Sophie. She thought she might have guessed it would be likethis! The Count of Catterack was obviously a person who never got athing right, and she was another herself. It was probably lucky shehad even found the way out. By now she was so tired and hot anddejected that she decided not to wait for Michael. She wanted to sitdown in the fireside chair and tell Calcifer the mess she had made ofthings.

She hobbled down the grand staircase. She hobbled down a grandavenue. She stumped along another, where spires and towers and gildedroofs circled round in giddy profusion. And she realized it was worsethan she had thought. She was lost. She had absolutely no idea how tofind the disguised stable where the castle entrance was. She turnedup another handsome thoroughfare at random, but she did not recognizethat either. By now she did not even know the way back to the Palace.She tried asking people she met. Most of them seemed as hot and tiredas she was. “Wizard Pendragon?” they said. “Who ishe?”

Sophie hobbled on hopelessly. She was near giving up and sittingon the next doorstep for the night, when she passed the end of thenarrow street where Mrs. Pentstemmon’s house was. Ah! shethought. I can go and ask the footman. He and Howl were so friendlythat he must know where Howl lives. So she turned down thestreet.

The Witch of the Waste was coming up it towards her.

How Sophie recognized the Witch would be hard to say. Her face wasdifferent. Her hair, instead of being orderly chestnut curls, was arippling mass of red, hanging almost to her waist, and she wasdressed in floating flutters of auburn and pale yellow. Very cool andlovely she looked. Sophie knew her at once. She almost stopped, butnot quite.

There’s no reason she should remember me, Sophie thought. Imust be just one of hundreds of people she’s enchanted. AndSophie stumped boldly on, thumping her stick on the cobbles andreminding herself, in case of trouble, that Mrs. Pentstemmon had saidthat same stick had become a powerful object.

That was another mistake. The Witch came floating up the littlestreet, smiling, twirling her parasol, followed by two sulky-lookingpage boys in orange velvet. When she came level with Sophie, shestopped, and tawny perfume filled Sophie’s nose. “Why,it’s Miss Hatter!” the Witch said, laughing. “Inever forget a face, particularly if I’ve made it myself! Whatare you doing here, dressed up all so fine? It you’re thinkingof calling on that Mrs. Pentstemmon, you can save yourself thetrouble. The old biddy’s dead.”

“Dead?” said Sophie. She had a silly impulse to add,But she was alive an hour ago! And she stopped herself, because deathis like that: people are alive until they die.

“Yes. Dead,” said the Witch. “She refused totell me where someone was that I want to find. She said, ‘Overmy dead body!’ so I took her at her word.”

She’s looking for Howl! Sophie thought. Now what do Ido? If she had not been so very hot and tired, Sophie would have beenalmost too scared to think. For a witch who could kill Mrs.Pentstemmon would have no trouble with Sophie, stick or no stick. Andif she suspected for a moment that Sophie knew where Howl was, thatcould be the end of Sophie. Perhaps it was just as well Sophie couldnot remember where the castle entrance was.

“I don’t know who this person is that you’vekilled,” she said, “but that makes you a wickedmurderess.”

But the Witch did seem to suspect anyway. She said, “But Ithought you said you were going to call on Mrs.Pentstemmon?”

“No,” said Sophie. “It was you said that. Idon’t have to know her to call you wicked for killingher.”

“Then where were you going?” said the Witch.

Sophie was tempted to tell the Witch to mind her own business. Butthat was asking for trouble. So she said the only other thing shecould think of. “I’m going to see the King,” shesaid.

The Witch laughed disbelievingly. “But will the King see you?”

“Yes, of course,” Sophie declared, trembling withterror and anger. “I made an appointment. I’m—going topetition him for better conditions for hatters. I keep going, yousee, even after what you did to me.”

“Then you’re going in the wrong direction,” saidthe Witch. “The Palace is behind you.”

“Oh? Is it?” said Sophie. She did not have to pretendto be surprised. “Then I must have got turned around.I’ve been a little vague about directions since you made melike this.”

The Witch laughed heartily and did not believe a word of it.“Then come with me,” she said, “and I’ll showyou the way to the Palace.”

There seemed nothing Sophie could do but turn round and stumpbeside the Witch, with the two page boys trudging sullenly behindthem both. Anger and hopelessness settled over Sophie. She looked atthe Witch floating gracefully beside her and remembered Mrs.Pentstemmon had said the Witch was an old woman really. It’snot fair! Sophie thought, but there was nothing she could do aboutit.

“Why did you make me like this?” she demandedas they went up a grand thoroughfare with a fountain on top ofit.

“You were preventing me getting some information Ineeded,” the Witch said. “I got it in the end, ofcourse.” Sophie was quite mystified by this. She was wonderingwhether it would do any good to say there must be some mistake, whenthe Witch added, “Though I daresay you had no idea youwere,” and laughed, as if that was the funniest part of it.“Have you heard of a land called Wales?” she asked.

“No,” said Sophie. “Is it under thesea?”

The Witch found this funnier than ever. “Not at themoment,” she said. “It’s where Wizard Howl comesfrom. You know Wizard Howl, don’t you?”

“Only by hearsay,” Sophie lied. “He eatsgirls. He’s as wicked as you.” But she felt rather cold.It did not seem to be due to the fountain they were passing at thatmoment. Beyond the fountain, across a pink marble plaza, were thestone stairs with the Palace at the top.

“There you are. There’s the Palace,” said theWitch. “Are you sure you can manage all thosestairs?”

“None the better for you,” said Sophie. “Make meyoung again and I’ll run up them, even in this heat.”

“That wouldn’t be half so funny,” said theWitch. “Up you go. And if you do persuade the King to see you,remind him that his grandfather sent me to the Waste and I bear him agrudge for that.”

Sophie looked hopelessly up the long flight of stairs. At leastthere was nobody but soldiers on them. With the luck she was havingtoday, it would not surprise her to find Michael and Howl on theirway down. Since the Witch was obviously going to stand there and makesure she went up, Sophie had no choice but to climb them. Up shehobbled, past the sweating soldiers, all the way to the Palaceentrance again, hating the Witch more with every step. She turnedround, panting, at the top. The Witch was still there, a floatingrusset shape at the foot, with two small orange figures beside her,waiting to se her thrown out of the Palace.

“Drat her!” said Sophie. She hobbled over to theguards at the archway. Her bad luck held still. There was no sign ofMichael or Howl in the reaches beyond. She was forced to say to theguards, “There was something I forgot to tell theKing.”

They remembered her. They let her inside, to be received by apersonage in white gloves. And before Sophie had collected her wits,the Palace machinery was in motion again and she was being handedfrom person to person, just like the first time, until she arrived atthe same double doors and the same person in blue was announcing,“Mrs. Pendragon to see you again, Your Majesty.”