Chapter 11

           Thenothingnesswasonlyaninch-thickafterall.Beyondit,inagray,drizzlingevening,wasacementpathdowntoagardengate.HowlandMichaelwerewaitingatthegate.Beyondthatwasaflat,hard-lookingroadlinedwithhousesonbothsides.Sophielookedbackatwhereshehadcomefrom,shiveringratherinthedrizzle,andfoundthecastlehadbecomeahouseofyellowbrickwithlargewindows.Likealltheotherhouses,itwassquareandnew,withafrontdoorofwobblyglass.Nobodyseemedtobeaboutamongthehouses.Thatmayhavebeenduetothedrizzle,butSophiehadafeelingthatitwasreallybecause,inspiteoftherebeingsomanyhouses,thiswasreallysomewhereattheedgeofatown.

           “Whenyou’vequitefinishednosing,”Howlcalled.Hisgray-and-scarletfinerywasallmistedwithdrizzle.Hewasdanglingabunchofstrangekeys,mostofwhichwereflatandyellowandseemedtomatchthehouses.WhenSophiecamedownthepath,heblurred,asifthedrizzleroundhimhadsuddenlybecomeafog.Whenitcameintofocusagain,itwasstillscarlet-and-gray,butquiteadifferentshape.Thedanglingsleevesweregoneandthewholeoutfitwasbaggier.Itlookedwornandshabby.

           Michael’sjackethadbecomeawaist-lengthpaddedthing.Heliftedhisfoot,withacanvasshoeonit,andstaredatthetightbluethingsencasinghislegs.“Icanhardlybendmyknee,”hesaid.

           “You’llgetusedtoit,”saidHowl.“Comeon,Sophie.”

           ToSophie’ssurprise,Howlledthewaybackupthegardenpathtowardtheyellowhouse.