Catweazle and the Magic Zodiac

they argued
Cedric slipped past them unobserved and hid Catweazle in the bathroom. Then he
went back into the ghost hunters’ bedroom, because the tape-recorder had made
him suspicious. He switched it on and eerie moans came from the hidden
loudspeakers
    ‘They’re
frauds!’ shouted Cedric.
    ‘Just
as I thought!’ said Lord Collingford, coming in after him, as Lady Collingford,
alarmed by the moans, appeared in the doorway. ‘Here’s your ghost, Dottie,’
said Lord Collingford, pointing to the tape recorder.
    ‘Oh
Charles!’ she said. ‘I’ll never believe in ghosts again.’
    Inside
the bathroom, Catweazle was on his hands and knees gazing at the mat. On it was
a silhouette of Sagittarius. It was the ninth sign of the Zodiac!

     
    Kenley
and Hackforth were packing, watched by Lord Collingford, and Cedric was getting
back into bed, when he suddenly remembered he had left Catweazle in the
bathroom. He tiptoed swiftly down the passage just in time to see his mother
going inside. He waited for the screams, but none came. Catweazle had retreated
into the shower. He had taken the bath mat with him andwas watching Lady
Collingford through the shower curtain when the rope round his robe became
hooked on the lever. He twisted round and accidentally turned on the shower,
knocking the contents of a detergent packet on the floor.
    ‘Goodness,
Charles!’ said Lady Collingford, who had her back to him. ‘You made me jump!
What an odd time to have a shower.’
    Catweazle
was getting very wet.
    ‘Are
you still angry with me?’ asked Lady Collingford.
    The
water poured down remorselessly and a dense cloud of bubbles began to form
round Catweazle’s feet.
    ‘I
admit I’ve been very silly,’ Lady Collingford went on, ‘but I really did think
I was beginning to see things.’
    Catweazle
was now thoroughly drenched and the magic rain was getting quite hot, while the
strange cloud rose higher and higher, bubbling and foa min g around him.
    ‘I
wouldn’t have it too hot if I were you,’ warned Lady Collingford, as the
bathroom began to fill with steam. By now, the white cloud was in danger of
engulfing Catweazle and he moaned dismally.
    Lady
Collingford’s blood ran cold as she finally realized it was not Lord
Collingford. Slowly she forced herself to turn towards the curtain. Behind it a
weird white form waved its arms at her. She gave a piercing shriek and fainted.
    Catweazle
skidded out dripping wet, covered in foam, and carrying the bath mat.
    Cedric
pushed him hurriedly down the back stairs and out of the house.
    The
night’s adventures only served to strengthen Lady Collingford’s belief in
ghosts and Catweazle’s belief in the magic Signs. As for Cedric, he became even
more determined that one day he would find the lost treasure.

11
     

CAPRICORN
     
    ‘ Satanaciodiabolus! ’
yelled Catweazle furiously, hurling his magic book across Duck Halt.
     
    ‘Curses blight thee, O Zodiac!
    Lightning blast thee!
    Fire burn thee up!’
     
    he cried.
    ‘Steady
on!’ said Cedric as Catweazle raced to the table, and swept everything to the
floor. ‘I cannot find it!’ he said, hurling a bottle against the wall,’ I
cannot find it!’
    ‘Calm
down, Catweazle!’ said Cedric.
    Catweazle
turned on him, letting out his breath in a great fizz of anger. ‘Why can I not
find it? I have conjured Spirits, raised Demons!’ He smashed a jam-jar. ‘Nothing
works! Nothing works!’ He kicked the old cigarette machine and then howled with
pain and clutched his foot.
    ‘Don’t
be childish!’ said Cedric, polishing his glasses.
    ‘Cross
me not! Cross me not!’
    ‘Behave
yourself, Catweazle!’
    ‘Stink
weed!’
    The
magician crouched down and sulked, hunched and prickly as a hedgehog.
    ‘It’s
not my fault you can’t find Capricorn,’ said Cedric gently.
    ‘The
sign of the Goat,’ snapped Catweazle.
    ‘All
right then. The sign of the goat,’ said Cedric, kneeling beside him. ‘It’s
silly to give up now. And it’s no good losing your temper, is it?’

    Catweazle
was full of self-pity. ‘I shall never fly. I shall never find the thirteen
Signs. ’Tis all folly,’ he moaned.
    ‘You’re
doing terribly well,’ said Cedric, but Catweazle merely stared into space. ‘O
that I had the Divine Egg,’ he whispered.
    ‘What
on earth’s that?’ asked Cedric.
    Catweazle
looked at him. Surely Owlface was mocking him again? ‘The Philosopher’s Stone.
The source of all magic power,’ he explained.