Catweazle and the Magic Zodiac

hole in the middle. ‘Magic?’ he whispered,
wondering what strange power the black wheels held and called on the wise
demons Adramalech, Nergal and Abraxas, to tell him. Even if they knew, none of
them answered him, so he decided to go up to Kings Farthing and ask Owlface.
    When
Catweazle emerged from the bushes near the stables, Cedric was washing the
family’s ancient Rolls-’ Royce and listening to Rostropovitch on his portable
record player. Catweazle had never heard a cello before and wondered for a
moment where the groaning noise was coming from. Then he began to stalk the
record player, covering the last few yards on his hands and knees. Cedric saw
him just as Mrs Gowdie appeared in the distance. Quickly he dragged him behind
the car and then, with a sudden brainwave, he opened the boot and pushed the
magician inside. He was just starting to wash the back window as Mrs Gowdie
joined him.
    ‘My
goodness — you’re quick!’ she said.
    ‘You
have to be,’ said Cedric.
    ‘Groome
takes all day,’ said Mrs Gowdie. She listened to the record player for a
moment. ‘That’s nice,’ she said, ‘does it help?’
    ‘Oh
yes,’ said Cedric, washing furiously and wishing she would go before Catweazle
suffocated.
    ‘There’s
a proper car mop somewhere. I think it’s in the boot.’
    ‘Er...
no it’s not,’ said Cedric hastily, ‘I’ve just looked.’
    ‘Oh!
Well, I won’t interrupt you any longer,’ said Mrs Gowdie, and went on into the
house, leaving Cedric to rescue Catweazle and bustle him into the comparative
safety of the garage.
    ‘Why
can’t you stay at Duck Halt?’ he asked.
    ‘Is the
noise box thine?’ asked Catweazle.
    ‘The
noise box?’ repeated Cedric. ‘Oh, you mean the record player. Yes, that’s
mine.’
    ‘ ’Tis
great magic. Is it the electrickery?’
    ‘Batteries,’
said Cedric. ‘One watt output.’
    ‘Put
out one what?’
    ‘You
must go, Catweazle — ’
    ‘Come,
my brother. I have a marvel to show thee. Strange black wheels.’
    ‘I
can’t come. Everything’s in chaos. Groome’s lost his voice.’
    ‘Where?’
asked Catweazle.
    ‘What
d’you mean, where? Here of course,’ said Cedric irritably.
    ‘Hast
searched for it?’
    ‘Searched
for it!’
    ‘Ay.
The lost voice of thy groom. If I find it for thee, wilt thou tell me the magic
of the black wheels?’
    ‘What
black wheels?’ said Cedric, but Catweazle was already running back to the car.
    ‘I need
thy bucket,’ he said, ‘to put the voice in,’ and he ran off with the pail with
Cedric chasing after him.
    Groome’s
laryngitis had turned the household upside down, and Lord and Lady Collingford
were anxiously discussing the'problem.
    ‘Suppose
the doctor can’t do anything?’ said Lord Collingford, pacing nervously up and
down.
    ‘Then
you’ll have to put General thing off,’ said Lady Collingford briskly.
    ‘General
Buckhunter,’ said Lord Collingford. ‘I can’t do that, Dottie; he’s the
President of the Historic Weapons Society and he is bringing them all
tomorrow.’
    ‘The
weapons?’
    ‘No,
darling. The Society.’
    Lady
Collingford thought for a moment. ‘Then there’s only one thing to do,’ she said.
‘Find another guide.’
    ‘Another
guide? Where on earth would we find another guide?’
    Lady
Collingford touched him gently. ‘Here, Charles,’ she purred.
    Lord
Collingford was not at all happy with this idea. He pointed out that Groome
talked non-stop for forty minutes. He felt he hadn’t the training or the
temperament to become a guide himself, but the more he tried to get out of it,
the more insistent Lady Collingford became. ‘Who knows,’ she said, ‘you might
even get a tip.’
    Lord
Collingford wasn’t sure whether it would be right to accept a tip for escorting
people round his own house, but he finally agreed to stand in for Groome,
provided he didn’t have to wear the peaked cap.
    Meanwhile
Catweazle had reached an old well, where Cedric finally caught up with him.
    ‘ ’Tis
in there, my brother,’ whispered Catweazle.
    ‘What
is?’ asked Cedric.
    ‘The
lost voice,’ said Catweazle. ‘Harken!’ He crouched down by the well and peered
over the top very carefully. ‘Good morrow,’ he said.
    ‘Good
morrow,’ came back the echo.
    Cedric
hooted with laughter. In fact he laughed so much his glasses slid down his nose
and nearly fell off.
    ‘Thou
coxy, cackling candle!’ said Catweazle. ‘Why dost thou titter? Thou wilt mar
all!