Дом ста дорог

Murdoch's Ear ("Merlin's Arm? Murphy's Law?" I give up! Charmain thought). When I next find myself in High Yours alluringly ("allergically? admiringly? antiphony?" Lord! What writing! Charmain thought),

Wizard Howl Pendragon

[118] "Dear, dear! He must write with a poker!" Charmain said aloud, picking up the next letter.

This one was from the King himself and the writing, though wavery and old-fashioned, was much easier to read.

[119] Dear Wm (Charmain read, with growing awe and surprise),

We are now more than halfway through Our Great Task and as yet none the wiser. We rely on you. It is Our devout

Hope that the Elves We sent you will succeed in restoring you to Health and that We will again shortly have the

Inestimable Benefit of your Advice and Encouragement. Our Best Wishes go with you.

Yours, in Sincere Hope,

Adolphus Rex High Norland

[120] So the King sent those elves! "Well, well," Charmain murmured, leafing through the final stack of letters. Every single one of these was written in different sorts of someone's best handwriting. They all seemed to say the same thing in different ways: "Please, Wizard Norland, I would like to become your apprentice. Will you take me on?" Some of them went on to offer Great-Uncle William money. One of them said he could give Great-Uncle William a magical diamond ring, and another, who seemed to be a girl, said, rather pathetically, "I am not very pretty myself, but my sister is, and she says she will marry you if you agree to teach me."

[121] Charmain winced and only flipped hastily through the rest of the stack. They reminded her so very much of her own letter to the King. And quite as useless, she thought. It was obvious to her that these were the kind of letters that a famous wizard would instantly write and say "No" to. She bundled them all back under Das Zauberbuch and looked at the other books on the desk. There was a whole row of tall, fat books at the back of the desk, all labeled Res Magica, which she thought she would look at later. She picked up two more books at random. One was called Mrs. Pentstemmon's Path: Signposts to the Truth and it struck her as a trifle moralizing. The other, when she had thumbed open its metal clasp and spread it out at its first page, was called The Boke of Palimpsest. When Charmain turned over the next pages, she found that each page contained a new spell—a clear spell, too, with a title saying what it did and, below that, a list of ingredients, followed by numbered stages telling you what you had to do.

[122] "This is more like it!" Charmain said, and settled down to read.

A long time later, while she was trying to decide which was more useful, "A Spell to Tell Friend from Foe" or "A Spell to Enlarge the Mind," or perhaps even "A Spell for Flying," Charmain suddenly knew that she had crying need of a bathroom. This tended to happen to her when she had been absorbed in reading. She sprang up, squeezing her knees together, and then realized that a bathroom was a place she had still not found.

[123] "Oh, how do I find the bathroom from here?" she cried out.

Reassuringly, Great-Uncle William's kind, frail voice spoke out of the air at once. "Turn left in the passage, my dear, and the bathroom is the first door on the right."

"Thank you!" Charmain gasped, and ran.

[ 124 ] Chapter Three IN WHICH CHARMAIN WORKS SEVERAL SPELLS AT ONCE

[125] The bathroom was as reassuring as Great-Uncle William's kindly voice. It had a worn greenstone floor and a little window, at which fluttered a green net curtain. And it had all the fitments Charmain knew from home. And home has nothing but the best, she thought. Better still, it had taps and the toilet flushed. True, the bath and the taps were strange, slightly bulbous shapes, as if the person who installed them had not been quite sure what he or she was aiming at; but the taps, when Charmain experimentally turned them on, ran cold and hot water, just as they were supposed to, and there were warm towels on a rail under the mirror.

[126] Perhaps I can put one of those laundry bags in the bath, Charmain mused. How would I squeeze it dry?

[127] Across the corridor from the bathroom was a row of doors, stretching away into dim distance. Charmain went to the nearest one and pushed it open, expecting it to lead to the living room. But there was a small bedroom beyond it instead, obviously Great-Uncle William's, to judge by the mess. The white covers trailed off the unmade bed, almost on top of several stripey nightshirts scattered over the floor. Shirts dangled out of drawers, along with socks and what looked like long underclothes, and the open cupboard held a musty-smelling uniform of some kind. Under the window were two more sacks stuffed full of laundry. Charmain groaned aloud.

[128] "I suppose he's been ill for quite a time," she said, trying to be charitable. "But, mother-ofpearl, why do I have to deal with it all?"