Catweazle and the Magic Zodiac

brought the magic mixer?’
    ‘Afraid
not,’ said Cedric. ‘Nothing to plug it in to. Anyhow the marrows shrank again
so it wouldn’t have worked.’
    Catweazle
shook his head. ‘Nay,’ he said angrily, ‘nothing works. Nothing hath ever
worked and nothing will ever work. ’Tis all folly.’
    ‘Cheer
up!’ said Cedric. ‘Your bone-ache’s gone. And I’ve brought you a present.’
    ‘Tcha!’
said Catweazle, dismissing him peevishly. ‘What’s more important, the great
flying spell, or giant bananas?’
    Catweazle
snorted. ‘Flying, thou gowk!’
    ‘Then
how about this?’ said Cedric, and took the sign of Aquarius from behind his
back.
    For a
moment Catweazle couldn’t believe it. He looked wonderingly at the little
figure that Owlface held out to him and then, reaching out, he took it
carefully from him.
    “Thou
art a mighty magician!’ he said sadly. ‘Thy power is greater than mine.’
    ‘Don’t
be silly,’ said Cedric, ‘you’re much better than me. I was just lucky, that’s
all. I won it for you.’
    ‘Won
it?’ said Catweazle.
    ‘That’s
right,’ said Cedric. ‘In a marrow competition.’

13
     

PISCES
     
    The platform at Duck Halt was slowly being covered by
fallen leaves and the early mornings had become damp and cold. Catweazle knew
that before long he would begin to feel drowsy during the day as the time for
the Long Sleep drew nearer. He was worried in case he wouldn’t have time to
complete his great quest.
    Pisces
the Fish, the twelfth Sign, had been easy to find. He had stolen two goldfish
from the lily pond at Kings Farthing and put them in a jam-jar. Now, with the
Zodiac completed, he stood in the middle of the circle and carefully drew
Adamcos from its sheath.
    ‘Agla!’
he intoned. ‘Tetragram!’
    Touchwood
croaked and crawled into his boot. ‘Schempamporasch!’ cried Catweazle, waving
his ceremonial knife and hoping something magical would happen. ‘O, Spirits of
the earth, air, fire, and thou, O my magic Spirit of water, I call on thee!
Lead me to the thirteenth Sign!’
    There
was silence, broken by the chattering of birds outside. Catweazle shrugged and
shuffled over to Touchwood’s little home. ‘Thou art my familiar spirit,’ he
whispered. ‘Come! tell me, what is the Sign?’
    Touchwood
crawled grumpily from the depths of the boot and stared almost insolently at
his master. A halfeaten earwig stuck from the corner of his wide mouth. He
gulped and the earwig vanished completely.
    ‘Mirksome
kindled wimble!’ swore Catweazle angrily. What help art thou?’
    Touchwood,
having disposed of his breakfast, croaked belligerently and crawled back into
the warm darkness of the boot.
    ‘May
thy warts grow warts!’ cursed Catweazle and sank down wearily on an old car
seat he had brought from the rubbish dump.
    He
recited the flying spell once again, hoping that it might provide him with a
clue.
     
    ‘Twelve are they that circle round
    If power you seek they must be found
    Then look for where the thirteenth lies
    And mount aloft, the one who flies,’
     
    he muttered, but it was no
use. The thirteenth sign remained a mystery to him.
    Catweazle
wasn’t the only one with a problem that morning. Lord Collingford was in such
financial difficulty that selling Kings Farthing seemed to be the only
solution.
    ‘What
about trying to find the treasure?’ said Cedric.
    ‘Oh,
don’t start that again, Cedric,’ said Lord Collingford.
    ‘But if
we really searched — ’
    ‘No,
darling,’ said Lady Collingford firmly.
    ‘My
father,’ said Lord Collingford, ‘dug up the whole of the croquet lawn one
summer. And all he found was eight arrow heads, a couple of cannon balls and
the key to the front door.’
    Lady
Collingford sighed. ‘It’s been such a terrible season,’ she said.
    ‘People
aren’t interested in military history any more, Dottie,’ replied her husband.
‘I think they only come here to write their names on the walls.’
    While
the Collingfords grew steadily more depressed, Catweazle went up to the house
hoping that Cedric would let him into the secret chamber to look for the
thirteenth Sign. After hiding the tricycle he was creeping up from the moat
when Groome suddenly saw him and gave chase with a roar. Catweazle turned and
fled but Groome kept after him and there was no escape. Catweazle reached the
edge of the moat, and leapt into the air in a vain attempt to jump across.
There was a splash as he hit the water and then, before