Catweazle and the Magic Zodiac

and was crouched over it when Lord and Lady
Collingford came back into the lecture room.
    ‘Are
you there?’ said Habbleman hopefully into the boot.
    ‘Are
you feeling all right, Professor?’ said Lord Collingford.
    Habbleman
left the boot by the window and came slowly over to them. ‘Things will never be
the same again,’ he said brokenly.
    ‘Of
course they will,’ said Lady Collingford, ‘there’ll be other toads.’
    Catweazle
reached in and silently picked up the boot.
    ‘No,’
groaned Habbleman, ‘it was the find of a life time.’
    They
looked towards the window but the boot had vanished. ‘Groome’s right,’ said
Lord Collingford, ‘something very peculiar is going on round here.’

10
     

SAGITTARIUS
     
    Nearly everyafternoon
Cedric would walk through the woods to give Catweazle a reading lesson. In
return the magician would try to teach Cedric the mysteries of the old magic.
It was hard work for both of them and they often lost their tempers. But
eventually, because they were anxious to learn one another’s secrets, they
began to make some progress.
    Cedric
stood in front of a little blackboard and pointed at the letters with
Catweazle’s magic wand while Catweazle sat on an orange box in front of him.
The Sacred Fire was alight in the red fire-bucket and Touchwood, whose illness
had turned out to be nothing more than a sloughing of his old skin, sat fatly
in the entrance to his boot. Round the Zodiac were the various magical signs
Catweazle had so far managed to collect. The ram’s horns, the inn sign, the two
plastic dolls, the silver-gilt inkwell, the gramophone record, the visiting
card, the scales from tbe statue of Justice and the colour slide of the
lobster.
    ‘A for
Adamcos,’ said Cedric.
    ‘A for
Adamcos,’ repeated Catweazle.
    ‘B for
bananas.’
    ‘Nay,’
said Catweazle, ‘bee is for honey.’
    Cedric
sighed, ‘I don’t think you’ve quite got the idea yet. C .. . Now you can do
this one.’
    ‘Catweazle!’
said the magician proudly.
    ‘Good!’
said Cedric. ‘D?’
    Catweazle
crossed his fingers. ‘Demons!’
    ‘E!’
‘Electrickery!’
    ‘Z?’
said Cedric finally. Catweazle pointed to the magic ring he had drawn so
carefully. ‘The Zodiac,’ he whispered.
    ‘Congratulations!’
said Cedric. ‘You got right through the alphabet that time. Now we can get down
to business.’ He rummaged in his duffle bag and gave the magician a book. ‘ “I
am a Little Dog”,’ he said.
    ‘Art
thou, Owlface?’
    Cedric
sighed. ‘It’s the title of the book. See?... I... am... a... Little... Dog.’
    ‘I
shall never read it.’
    ‘Of
course you will. You’re just a late starter!’
    But
Catweazle shook his head. ‘Nay,’ he said, ‘I must find the signs of the Zodiac,
that I may fly.’
    ‘But
suppose the rhyme means something else? Suppose it’s not a flying spell after
all?’
    Catweazle
wasn’t listening. He picked up the ancient book of magic. ‘The Sign of the
Centaur. Half man, half horse. Where shall I find it?’
    ‘How
should I know?’ said Cedric angrily. ‘I’m getting fed up with it all. It’s such
a waste of time.’
    ‘A
waste of Time?’ snorted Catweazle. ‘Flying by magic, a waste of Time?’ He
hunched himself up and buried his head in the book. ‘Away thou whining gnat,
and trouble me not!’
    Cedric
stood up. He was furious. ‘I like that!’ he said. ‘Trouble you not! What about
all the trouble I’ve gone to for you? The jams I’ve got you out of.
Difficulties, I mean. You get everything handed to you on a plate and a fat lot
of thanks I ever get.’
    ‘Fat
thanks on a plate?’ said the bewildered Catweazle.
    ‘You
know what I mean,’ Cedric went on, ‘you never do anything for me. What about the treasure?’
    He
couldn’t help feeling rather bitter that Catweazle had never offered to help
him find the lost treasure of the Collingfords, though he tantalized him by
mentioning the many magical rituals for uncovering treasure.
    ‘Away,
thou itching earwig,’ muttered Catweazle, still turning the pages of his book,
‘leave me to my magic.’
    ‘Oh,
don’t worry,’ Cedric snatched up his duffle bag, ‘I’m going. You couldn’t find
it anyway. Even if there is a spell, you’d never be able to make it work.’
    Catweazle
quivered with rage, but pretended to go on reading.
    ‘Don’t
expect any more help from me. I’m going home to get on with my opera. I’ve
wasted enough of the holidays as it is!’ And