tp.wyrd sisters-第14部分

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　'Well？'　it　said。
　'Who're　you？'　said　Granny；　bluntly。
　The　head　revolved　to　face　her。
　'My　name　is　unpronounceable　in　your　tongue；　woman；'　it　said。
　'I'll　be　the　judge　of　that；'　warned　Granny；　and　added；　'Don't　you　call　me　woman。'
　'Very　well。　My　name　is　WxrtHltl…jwlpklz；'　said　the　demon　smugly。
　'Where　were　you　when　the　vowels　were　handed　out？　Behind　the　door？'　said　Nanny　Ogg。
　'Well；　Mr…　Granny　hesitated　only　fractionally　…　'WxrtHltl…jwlpklz；　I　expect　you're　wondering　why　we　called　you　here　tonight。'
　'You're　not　supposed　to　say　that；'　said　the　demon。　'　You're　supposed　to　say…'
　'Shut　up。　We　have　the　sword　of　Art　and　the　octogram　of　Protection；　I　warn　you。'
　'Please　yourself。　They　look　like　a　washboard　and　a　copper　stick　to　me；'　sneered　the　demon。
　Granny　glanced　sideways。　The　corner　of　the　washroom　was　stacked　with　kindling　wood；　with　a　big　heavy　sawhorse　in　front　of　it。　She　stared　fixedly　at　the　demon　and；　without　looking；　brought　the　stick　down　hard　across　the；　thick　timber。
　The　dead　silence　that　followed　was　broken　only　by　the　two　perfectly…sliced　halves　of　the　sawhorse　teetering　backwards　and　forwards　and　folding　slowly　into　the　heap　of　kindling。
　The　demon's　face　remained　impassive。
　'You　are　allowed　three　questions；'　it　said。
　'Is　there　something　strange　at　large　in　the　kingdom？'　said　Granny。
　It　appeared　to　think　about　it。
　'And　no　lying；'　said　Magrat　earnestly。　'Otherwise　it'll　be　the　scrubbing　brush　for　you。'
　'You　mean　stranger　than　usual？'
　'Get　on　with　it；'　said　Nanny。　'My　feet　are　freezing　out　here。'
　'No。　There　is　nothing　strange。'
　'But　we　felt　it…'　Magrat　began。
　'Hold　on；　hold　on；'　said　Granny。　Her　lips　moved　soundlessly。　Demons　were　like　genies　or　philosophy　professors　…　if　you　didn't　word　things　exactly　right；　they　delighted　in　giving　you　absolutely　accurate　and　pletely　misleading　answers。
　'Is　there　something　in　the　kingdom　that　wasn't　there　before？'　she　hazarded。
　'No。'
　Tradition　said　that　there　could　be　only　three　questions。　Granny　tried　to　formulate　one　that　couldn't　be　deliberately　misunderstood。　Then　she　decided　that　this　was　playing　the　wrong　kind　of　game。
　'What　the　hell's　going　on？'　she　said　carefully。　'And　no　mucking　about　trying　to　wriggle　out　of　it；　otherwise　I'll　boil　you。'
　The　demon　appeared　to　hesitate。　This　was　obviously　a　new　approach。
　'Magrat；　just　kick　that　kindling　over　here；　will　you？'　said　Granny。
　'I　protest　at　this　treatment；'　said　the　demon；　its　voice　tinged　with　uncertainty。
　'Yes；　well；　we　haven't　got　time　to　bandy　legs　with　you　all　night；'　said　Granny。　These　word　games　might　be　all　right　for　wizards；　but　we've　got　other　fish　to　fry。'
　'Or　boil；'　said　Nanny。
　'Look；'　said　the　demon；　and　now　there　was　a　whine　of　terror　in　its　voice。　'We're　not　supposed　to　volunteer　information　just　like　that。　There　are　rules；　you　know。'
　'There's　some　old　oil　in　the　can　on　the　shelf；　Magrat；'　said　Nanny。
　'If　I　simply　tell　you…'　the　demon　began。
　'Yes？'　said　Granny；　encouragingly。
　'You　won't　let　on；　will　you？'　it　implored。
　'Not　a　word；'　promised　Granny。
　'Lips　are　sealed；'　said　Magrat。
　'There　is　nothing　new　in　the　kingdom；'　said　the　demon；　'but　the　land　has　woken　up。'
　'What　do　you　mean？'　said　Granny。
　'It's　unhappy。　It　wants　a　king　that　cares　for　it。'
　'How…'　Magrat　began；　but　Granny　waved　her　into　silence。
　'You　don't　mean　people；　do　you？'　she　said。　The　glistening　head　shook。　'No；　I　didn't　think　so。'
　'What…'　Nanny　began。　Granny　put　a　finger　to　her　lips。
　She　turned　and　walked　to　the　washhouse's　window；　a　dusty　spiderweb　graveyard　of　faded　butterfly　wings　and　last　summer's　bluebottles。　A　faint　glow　beyond　the　frosted　panes　suggested　that；　against　all　reason；　a　new　day　would　soon　dawn。
　'Can　you　tell　us　why？'　she　said；　without　turning　round。　She'd　felt　the　mind　of　a　whole　country　。　。　。
　She　was　rather　impressed。
　'I'm　just　a　demon。　What　do　I　know？　Only　what　is；　not　the　why　and　how　of　it。'
　'I　see。'
　'May　I　go　now？'
　'Um？'
　'Please？'
　Granny　jerked　upright　again。
　'Oh。　Yes。　Run　along；'　she　said　distractedly。　'Thank　you。'
　The　head　didn't　move。　It　hung　around；　like　a　hotel　porter　who　has　just　carried　fifteen　suitcases　up　ten　flights　of　stairs；　shown　everyone　where　the　bathroom　is；　plumped　up　the　pillows；　and　feels　he　has　adjusted　all　the　curtains　he　is　going　to　adjust。
　'You　wouldn't　mind　banishing　me；　would　you？'　said　the　demon；　when　no…one　seemed　to　be　taking　the　hint。
　'What？'　said　Granny；　who　was　thinking　again。
　'Only　I'd　feel　better　for　being　properly　banished。　〃Run　along〃　lacks　that　certain　something；'　said　the　head。
　'Oh。　Well；　if　it　gives　you　any　pleasure。　Magrat！'
　'Yes？'　said　Magrat；　startled。
　Granny　tossed　the　copper　stick　to　her。
　'Do　the　honours；　will　you？'　she　said。
　Magrat　caught　the　stick　by　what　she　hoped　Granny　was　imagining　as　the　handle；　and　smiled。
　'Certainly。　Right。　Okay。　Um。　Begone；　foul　fiend；　unto　the　blackest　pit…'
　The　head　smiled　contentedly　as　the　words　rolled　over　it。　This　was　more　like　it。
　It　melted　back　into　the　waters　of　the　copper　like　candlewax　under　a　flame。　Its　last　contemptuous　ment；　almost　lost　in　the　swirl；　was；　'Run　aaaalonggg　。　。　。'
　
　Granny　went　home　alone　as　the　cold　pink　light　of　dawn　glided　across　the　snow；　and　let　herself　into　her　cottage。
　The　goats　were　uneasy　in　their　outhouse。　The　starlings　muttered　and　rattled　their　false　teeth　under　the　roof。　The　mice　were　squeaking　behind　the　kitchen　dresser。
　She　made　a　pot　of　tea；　conscious　that　every　sound　in　the　kitchen　seemed　slightly　louder　than　it　ought　to　be。　When　she　dropped　the　spoon　into　the　sink　it　sounded　like　a　bell　being　hit　with　a　hammer。
　She　always　felt　unfortable　after　getting　involved　in　organised　magic　or；　as　she　would　put　it；　out　of　sorts　with　herself。　She　found　herself　wandering　around　the　place　looking　for　things　to　do　and　then　forgetting　them　when　they　were　half…plete。　She　paced　back　and　forth　across　the　cold　flagstones。
　It　is　at　times　like　this　that　the　mind　finds　the　oddest　jobs　to　do　in　order　to　avoid　its　primary　purpose；　i。e。；　thinking　about　things。　If　anyone　had　been　watching　they　would　have　been　amazed　at　the　sheer　dedication　with　which　Granny　tackled　such　tasks　as　cleaning　the　teapot　stand；　rooting　ancient　nuts　out　of　the　fruit　bowl　on　the　dresser；　and　levering　fossilised　bread　crusts　out　of　the　cracks　in　the　flagstones　with　the　back　of　a　teaspoon。
　Animals　had　minds。　People　had　minds；　although　human　minds　were　vague　foggy　things。　Even　insects　had　minds；　little　pointy　bits　of　light　in　the　darkness　of　non…mind。
　Granny　considered　herself　something　of　an　expert　on　minds。　She　was　pretty　certain　things　like　countries　didn't　have　minds。
　They　weren't　even　alive；　for　goodness　sake。　A　country　was；　well；　was…
　Hold　on。　Hold　on　。　。　。　A　thought　stole　gently　into　Granny's　mind　and　sheepishly　tried　to　attract　her　attention。
　There　was　a　way　in　which　those　brooding　forests　could　have　a　mind。　Granny　sat　up；　a　piece　of　antique　loaf　in　her　hand；　and　gazed　speculatively　at　the　fireplace。　Her　mind's　eye　looked　through　it；　out　at　the　snow…filled　aisles　of　trees。　Yes。　It　had　never　occurred　to　her　before。　Of　course；　it'd　be　a　mind　made　up　of　all　the　other　little　minds　inside　it；　plant　minds；　bird　minds；　bear　minds；　even　the　great　slow　minds　of　the　trees　themselves　。　。　。
　She　sat　down　in　her　rocking　chair；　which　started　to　rock　all　by　itself。
　She'd　often　thought　of　the　forest　as　a　sprawling　creature；　but　only　metterforicaily；　as　a　wizard　would　put　it；　drowsy　and　purring　with　bumblebees　in　the　summer；　roaring　and　raging　in　autumn　gales；　curled　in　on　itself　and　sleeping　in　the　winter。　It　occurred　to　her　that　in　addition　to　being　a　collection　of　other　things；　the　forest　was　a　thing　in　itself。　Alive；　only　not　alive　in　the　way　that；　say；　a　shrew　was　alive。
　And　much　slower。
　That　would　have　to　be　important。　How　fast　did　a　forest's　heart　beat？　Once　a　year；　maybe。　Yes；　that　sounded　about　right。　Out　there　the　forest　was　waiting　for　the　brighter　sun　and　longer　days　that　would　pump　a　million　gallons　of　sap　several　hundred　feet　into　the　sky　in　one　great　systolic　thump　too　big　and　loud　to　be　heard。
　And　it　was　at　about　this　point　that　Granny　bit　her　lip。
　She'd　just　thought　the　word　'systolic'；　and　it　certainly　wasn't　in　her　vocabulary。
　Somebody　was　inside　her　head　with　her。
　Some　thing。
　Had　she　just　thought　all　those　thoughts；　or　had　they　been　thought　through　her？
　She　glared　at　the　floor；　trying　to　keep　her　ideas　to　herself。　But　her　mind　was　being　watched　as　easily　as　if　her　head　was　made　of　glass。
　Granny　Weatherwax　got　to　her　feet　and　opened　the　curtains。
　And　they　were　out　there　on　what　…　in　warmer　months　…was　the　lawn。　And　every　single　one　of　them　was　staring　at　her。
　After　a　few　minutes　Granny's　front　door　opened。　This　was　an　event　in　its　own　right；　like　most　Ramtoppers　Granny　lived　her　life　via　the　back　door。　There　were　only　three　times　in　your　life　when　it　was　proper　to　e　through　the　front　door；　and　you　were　carried　every　time。
　It　opened　with　considerable　difficulty；　in　a　series　of　painful　jerks　and　thumps。　A　few　flakes　of　paint　fell　on　to　the　snowdrift　in　front　of　the　door；　which　sagged　inward。　Finally；　when　it　was　about　halfway　open；　the　door　wedged。
　Granny　sidled　awkwardly　through　the　gap　and　out　on　to　the　hitherto　undisturbed　snow。
　She　had　put　her　pointed　hat　on；　and　the　long　black　cloak　which　she　wore　when　she　wanted　anyone　who　saw　her　to　be　absolutely　clear　that　she　was　a　witch。
　There　was　an　elderly　kitchen　chair　half　buried　in　snow。　In　summer　it　was　a　handy　place　to　sit　and　do　whatever　hand　chores　were　necessary；　while　keeping　one　eye　on　the　track。　Granny　hauled　it　out；　brushed　the　snow　off　the　seat；　and　sat　down　firmly　with　her　knees　apart　and　her　arms　folded　defiantly。　She　stuck　out　her　chin。
　The　sun　was　well　up　but　the　light　on　this　Hogswatchday　was　still　pink　and　slanting。　It　glowed　on　the　great　cloud　of　steam　that　hung　over　the　assembled　creatures。　They　hadn't　moved；　although　every　now　and　again　one　of　them　would　stamp　a　hoof　or　scratch　itself。
　Granny　looked　up　at　a　flicker　of　movement。　She　hadn't　noticed　before；　but　every　tree　around　her　garden　was　so　heavy　with　birds　that　it　looked　as　though　a