Catweazle and the Magic Zodiac

Catweazle’s beard.
    Catweazle
was delighted. ‘I too am a magician,’ he confided.
    Vadanti
looked worried and edged away slightly.
    ‘I twit
thee not,’ said Catweazle earnestly.
    ‘Well,
it does make quite a nice hobby.’
    ‘Hast
thou magic books?’
    ‘Oh
yes, but I’m afraid most of them are for professional magicians. People in the
Magic Circle.’
    ‘Ah!’
said Catweazle. ‘The magic circle!’
    ‘You’ve
heard of it?’
    ‘I work
in it,’ said Catweazle proudly. ‘Salmay. Dalmay. Adonay!’ he exclaimed and
suddenly held out Touchwood, a few inches from Vadanti’s rather long nose.
    Vadanti
looked at Catweazle. Was this old chap really a member of the Magic Circle?
Perhaps he’d fallen on hard times.
    ‘You’ve
shaken me,’ he said, ‘really you have. I’d never have thought you were... well,
one of us. Er... what name do you use?’
    ‘Catweazle.’
    Vadanti
tried to remember if he had heard the name before. ‘No,’ he said finally,
‘doesn’t ring a bell. Probably a bit before my time.’
    ‘Ay,’
said Catweazle.
    ‘Catweazle,’
repeated Vadanti. ‘I like it. It’s got a sort of early English flavour about
it.’ He looked at Cat-weazle’s ragged robe. ‘Of course! that’s why you’re
dressed up like that! What a great get-up! Have you been working today?’
    Catweazle
nodded.
    ‘Now I
get it,’ said Vadanti, laughing with relief. ‘You know, at first I thought you
were crackers.’
    ‘Nay, I
am Catweazle.’
    Vadanti
roared with laugher. ‘Oh very good! You do comedy as well then?’
    ‘What
of the fish?’ asked Catweazle, who was getting a bit lost.
    ‘They’re
just not biting today.’
    ‘Hast
thou cast a spell?’
    ‘No,
just a fly,’ joked Vadanti.
    ‘Fly?’
said Catweazle, with sudden interest.
    ‘Be
better after some rain.’
    Catweazle
put his line in the water and, shutting his eyes, recited a little spell.
     
    ‘Fish, fish, fish
    For thee I wish.
    Come do not look
    But bite my hook.’
     
    There
was a slight tug on the line. Catweazle lifted his rod and swung a splendid
roach on to the bank while Vadanti stared at him in amazement. Catweazle smiled
complacently.
    ‘How
did you do that one?’ said the conjuror, convinced it was a trick.
    ‘Magic,’
said Catweazle.
    Vadanti
laughed again. The old man knew his stuff, there was no doubt about it. ‘Care
to come back for a cuppa,’ he said, ‘I’ve a new vanishing box might interest
you.’
    Catweazle
nodded. Mayhap this magician could lead him to the Signs!
    Vadanti
ran a little joke and magic shop in Elderford. As it was early closing day, his
wife had gone round to the local social club for the afternoon. ‘Bingo!’
explained Vadanti.
    ‘Schempamporasch!’
said Catweazle, determined not to be outdone.
    The
back parlour was piled with masks, funny noses, rubber spiders and all sorts of
jokes in little grey cardboard boxes. The table was littered with collapsible
birdcages, trick swords, rings and packs of cards. There were bottles with
false bottoms for hiding wine glasses underneath, gaily coloured boxes covered
with silver stars, and long cardboard tubes stuffed with the flags of all the
nations.
    Catweazle
was delighted. Here at last was a real magician. He picked up some trick rings
and examined them.
    ‘Sell a
lot of those,’ said Vadanti. ‘No skill required. Takes about a month to master
it.’ He winked at Catweazle. ‘And I make a lot of money out of stink bombs,
especially at the end of term.’
    He
picked up a sword, swished it through the air, and an orange appeared on the
point. He handed the orange to Catweazle who took the strange fruit from him
and sniffed it cautiously.
    Just
then Vadanti found his wife’s note by the telephone. ‘I’ve got a children’s
party at four. I’d better get changed,’ he said.
    He
began packing tricks into a suitcase.
    ‘Changed!’
said Catweazle, rather worried, ‘into what?’
    ‘Well I
can’t work like this, can I? I wouldn’t feel right without tails.’
    ‘Tails!’
gasped Catweazle.
    Vadanti
pressed a little button on the top of a large box and the lid slid open
silently. He went outside and returned with a little white rabbit which he put
gently into the box. There were holes all around it so that the rabbit could
breathe, and it settled down quite comfortably inside.
    ‘There
you are, Percy,’ said Vadanti, tapping the box. He turned to Catweazle. ‘Kids
love rabbits. Always go well. I once had a rabbit for my