Catweazle and the Magic Zodiac

’Tis all I have,’ he said sadly.
    Professor
Habbleman backed nervously. ‘I don’t want it,’ he said, ‘I’ve a pair of my
own.’ And he started to shut the door.
    ‘It’s a
toad,’ said Cedric desperately.
    Habbleman
came out again. ‘A toad?’ he said, suddenly looking interested.
    ‘In
this boot,’ said Cedric.
    Habbleman
peered myopically into the boot. ‘He’s probably gone round the corner,’ said
Cedric pointing at the foot while Catweazle tipped the boot and made Touchwood
slide into the heel.
    ‘Ah,
now I see him,’ muttered Habbleman. He looked up. ‘What’s the matter with him?’
    ‘We
don’t know,’ said Cedric. ‘That’s why we brought him to you.’
    ‘Very
wise,’ said Professor Habbleman. ‘You had better come inside.’
    He led
them towards his study, a large room, simply stuffed with books. The only clear
spaces between the bookshelves were occupied by large photos and drawings of
frogs and toads in every stage of development.
    Professor
Habbleman sat down at a long bench and carefully put Touchwood on a glass dish.
The toad’s legs skated feebly against the surface but he was too weak even to
crawl. ‘You say he will not eat,’ said the professor, examining Touchwood
through a large magnifying glass. Catweazle peered over his shoulder and was
amazed to see that his familiar had become a giant. Hab-bleman put the glass
down and Touchwood reverted to his normal size. Gingerly, Catweazle picked up
the magnifying glass and peered through it. The professor’s ear became the size
of a dinner plate. Then, as he turned to Catweazle, the magician backed away
from the huge eye that glared coldly at him through the glass.
    Habbleman
took it away from him and looked at Touchwood again. Catweazle gasped as
Touchwood became a giant once more.
    ‘No
sign of greenbottle,’ muttered Habbleman. He looked up at them. ‘Lucilia
Bufonivora,’ he explained.
    ‘Gab
gaba agaba,’ said Catweazle, crossing his fingers at the magic words.
    ‘Gab
gaba agaba?’ repeated Habbleman in a puzzled tone.
    ‘Well?’
said Cedric quickly. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
    ‘Patience
my friend. Patience.’
    He
examined Touchwood again and drew in his breath. Then he straightened up with a
rather dazed expression on his knobbly features. ‘It cannot be,’ he whispered,
‘it cannot be.’
    ‘Jaundice?’
asked Cedric.
    Habbleman
bent over Touchwood again. ‘Impossible!’ he said excitedly. ‘I do not believe
it. Quite impossible!’
    Catweazle
sensed that something unexpected was happening and began fizzing again as Habbleman
quickly fetched a very old book to the bench. Was the magician about to cast a
spell?
    ‘
“Androvandus”,’ said Habbleman, pointing to the lettering on the spine. ‘ “De
Quadrupedibus Digitatis Ovi-paris”.’
    ‘Schempamporasch!’.
said Catweazle, crossing his fingers.
    Habbleman
began to search feverishly through the book, making the dust rise as he turned
the thick yellow pages. Cedric and Catweazle stared at each other
apprehensively.
    At
last, Habbleman appeared to be satisfied and closed the book. He removed his
glasses, wiped his forehead and turned to them, his eyes shining with triumph.
‘How long have you had this toad?’ he said.
    ‘Nine
hun — ’ began Catweazle.
    ‘Quite
a long time,’ Cedric interrupted.
    ‘Ay,’
said Catweazle.
    Cedric
sighed with relief.
    ‘Nine
hundred years,’ said Catweazle.
    But
luckily Habbleman was too busy examining Touchwood to hear this last remark.
Then he put his glasses on again and turned back to them.
    ‘This
toad does not exist,’ he said. ‘The last known toad of this species is mentioned
by Androvandus.’ He thumped the book. ‘Published in 1637. Therefore, like the
dinosaur,’ he pointed at Touchwood, ‘that toad is extinct!’
    ‘How do
you know?’ said Cedric.
    ‘The
length of the femur,’ said Habbleman.
    ‘Oh,’
said Cedric.
    ‘And
the absence of parotid glands,’ Habbleman added.
    ‘Oh,’
said Cedric. ‘Yes.’
    ‘Today
we have made natural history!’ Habbleman continued, lifting Touchwood with
reverence. ‘A toad from the past!’
    ‘Ay,’
said Catweazle.
    ‘I must
fly to Heidelberg!’
    ‘Fly!’
said Catweazle, kneeling at his feet. ‘Hast thou the thirteen Signs?’
    ‘I
shall address the Zoological Congress,’ said Habbleman, taking no notice of the
ragged figure at his feet.
    ‘O
mighty one,’ begged Catweazle, ‘let me fly with