The Paragon’s petticoat once more seemed to take on a life of its own. This time it bowled away sideways on its hoops to let the magic carpet float free of it. The carpet shook itself, in rather the same way as Jamal’s dog was now doing. Then, to everyone’s surprise, it flopped to the floor and began to unravel. Abdullah nearly cried out at the waste. The long thread whirling free was blue and curiously bright, as if the carpet were not made of the usual wool at all. The free thread, darting back and forth across the carpet, rose higher and higher as it grew longer, until it was stretched between the high cloudy ceiling and the almost bare canvas it had been woven into. At last, with an impatient flip, the other end tore free from the canvas and shrank upward into the rest, where it spread in a flickering sort of way, and shrank again, and finally spread into a new shape like an upside-down teardrop or maybe a flame. This shape came drifting downward, steadily and purposefully. When it was near, Abdullah could see a face on the front of it composed of little purple or green or orange flames. Abdullah shrugged fatalistically. It seemed that he had parted with all those gold pieces to buy a fire demon and not a magic carpet at all.

The fire demon spoke, with a purple, flickering mouth. “Thank goodness!” it said. “Why didn’t someone call my name before? I hurt.”

“Oh, poor Calcifer!” said Sophie. “I didn’t know!”

“I’m not speaking to you,” retorted the strange flame-shaped being. “You stuck your claws into me. Nor,” it said as it floated past Howl, “to you, either. You let me in for this. It wasn’t me that wanted to help the King’s army. I’m only speaking to him,” it said, bobbing up beside Abdullah’s shoulder. He heard his hair frizzle gently. The flame was hot. “He’s the only person who ever tried to flatter me.”

“Since when,” Howl asked acidly, “have you needed flattery?”

“Since I discovered how nice it is to be told I’m nice,” said Calcifer.

“But I don’t think you are nice,” said Howl. “Be like that, then!” He turned his back on Calcifer with a fling of mauve satin sleeves.

“Do you want to be a toad?” Calcifer asked. “You’re not the only one who can do toads, you know!”

Howl tapped angrily with one mauve-booted foot. “Perhaps,” he said, “your new friend might ask you to get this castle down where it belongs then.”