tp.wyrd sisters-第26部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　'It　ain't　full；'　Granny　pointed　out。　'It's　wossname。　Bulging。'
　'Gibbous；'　said　Nanny　obligingly。
　'I　think　it's　in　praise　of　full　moons　in　general；'　Magrat　hazarded。　'And　then　we　have　to　raise　our　consciousness。　It　really　ought　to　be　full　moon　for　that；　I'm　afraid。　Moons　are　very　important。'
　Granny　gave　her　a　long；　calculating　look。
　'That's　modern　witchcraft　for　you；　is　it？'　she　said。
　'It's　part　of　it；　Granny。　There's　a　lot　more。'
　Granny　Weatherwax　sighed。　'Each　to　her　own；　I　suppose。　I'm　blowed　if　I'll　let　a　ball　of　shiny　rock　tell　me　what　to　do。'
　'Yes；　bugger　all　that；'　said　Nanny。　'Let's　curse　somebody。'
　
　The　Fool　crept　cautiously　along　the　nighttime　corridors。　He　wasn't　taking　any　chances　either。　Magrat　had　given　him　a　graphic　account　of　Greebo's　general　disposition；　and　the　Fool　had　borrowed　a　couple　of　gloves　and　a　sort　of　metal　wimple　from　the　castle's　store　of　hereditary　chain　mail。
　He　reached　the　lumber　room；　lifted　the　latch　cautiously；　pushed　the　door　and　then　flung　himself　against　the　wall。
　The　corridor　became　slightly　darker　as　the　more　intense　darkness　inside　the　room　spilled　out　and　mingled　with　the　rather　lighter　darkness　already　there。
　Apart　from　that；　nothing。　The　number　of　spitting；　enraged　balls　of　murderous　fur　pouring　through　the　door　was　zero。　The　Fool　relaxed；　and　slipped　inside。
　Greebo　dropped　on　his　head。
　It　had　been　a　long　day。　The　room　did　not　offer　the　kind　of　full　life　that　Greebo　had　e　to　expect　and　demand。　The　only　point　of　interest　had　been　the　discovery；　around　mid…morning；　of　a　colony　of　mice　who　had　spent　generations　eating　their　way　through　a　priceless　tapestry　history　of　Lancre　and　had　just　got　as　far　as　King　Murune　（709…745）；　who　met　a　terrible　fate＇14＇；　when　they　did；　too。　He　had　sharpened　his　claws　on　a　bust　of　Lancre's　only　royal　vampire；　Queen　Grimnir　the　Impaler　（1514…1553；　1553…1557；　1557…1562；　1562…1567　and　1568…1573）。　He　had　performed　his　morning　ablutions　on　a　portrait　of　an　unknown　monarch；　which　was　beginning　to　dissolve。　Now　he　was　bored；　and　also　angry。
　He　raked　his　claws　across　the　place　where　the　Fool's　ears　should　have　been；　and　was　rewarded　with　nothing　more　than　a　metallic　scraping　noise。
　'Who's　a　good　boy；　den？'　said　the　Fool。　'Wowsa　wowsa　whoosh。'
　This　intrigued　Greebo。　The　only　other　person　who　had　ever　spoken　to　him　like　this　was　Nanny　Ogg；　everyone　else　addressed　him　as　'Yarrgeroffoutofityahbarstard'。　He　leaned　down　very　carefully；　intrigued　by　the　new　experience。
　From　the　Fool's　point　of　view　an　upside…down　cat　face　lowered　itself　slowly　into　his　field　of　vision；　wearing　an　expression　of　evil…eyed　interest。
　'Does　oo　want　to　go　home；　den？'　said　the　Fool　hopefully。　'Look；　Mr　Door　is　open。'
　Greebo　increased　his　grip。　He　had　found　a　friend。
　The　Fool　shrugged；　very　carefully；　turned；　and　walked　back　into　the　passage。　He　made　his　way　down　through　the　hall；　out　into　the　courtyard；　around　the　side　of　the　guardroom　and　out　through　the　main　gate；　nodding　…　carefully　…　to　the　guards。
　'Man　just　went　past　with　a　cat　on　his　head；'　one　of　them　remarked；　after　a　minute　or　two's　reflection。
　'See　who　it　was？'
　'The　Fool；　I　think。'
　There　was　a　thoughtful　pause。　The　second　guard　shifted　his　grip　on　his　halberd。
　'It's　a　rotten　job；'　he　said。　'But　I　suppose　someone's　got　to　do　it。'
　
　'We　ain't　going　to　curse　anyone；'　said　Granny　firmly。　'It　hardly　ever　works　if　they　don't　know　you've　done　it。'
　'What　you　do　is；　you　send　him　a　doll　of　himself　with　pins　in。'
　'No；　Gytha。'
　'All　you　have　to　do　is　get　hold　of　some　of　his　toenails；'　Nanny　persisted；　enthusiastically。
　'No。'
　'Or　some　of　his　hair　or　anything。　I've　got　some　pins。'
　'No。'
　'Cursing　people　is　morally　unsound　and　extremely　bad　for　your　karma；'　said　Magrat。
　'Well；　I'm　going　to　curse　him　anyway；'　said　Nanny。　'Under　my　breath；　like。　I　could　of　caught　my　death　in　that　dungeon　for　all　he　cared。'
　'We　ain't　going　to　curse　him；'　said　Granny。　'We're　going　to　replace　him。　What　did　you　do　with　the　old　king？'
　'I　left　the　rock　on　the　kitchen　table；'　said　Nanny。　'I　couldn't　stand　it　any　more。'
　'I　don't　see　why；'　said　Magrat。　'He　seemed　very　pleasant。　For　a　ghost。'
　'Oh；　he　was　all　right。　It　was　the　others；'　said　Nanny。
　'Others？'
　'　〃Pray　carry　a　stone　out　of　the　palace　so's　I　can　haunt　it；　good　mother；〃　he　says；'　said　Nanny　Ogg。　'　〃It's　bloody　boring　in　here；　Mistress　Ogg；　excuse　my　Klatchian；〃　he　says；　so　of　course　I　did。　I　reckon　they　was　all　listening。　Ho　yes；　they　all　thinks；　all　aboard；　time　for　a　bit　of　a　holiday。　I've　nothing　against　ghosts。　Especially　royal　ghosts；'　she　added　loyally。　'But　my　cottage　isn't　the　place　for　them。　I　mean；　there's　some　woman　in　a　chariot　yelling　her　head　off　in　the　washhouse。　I　ask　you。　And　there's　a　couple　of　little　kiddies　in　the　pantry；　and　men　without　heads　all　over　the　place；　and　someone　screaming　under　the　sink；　and　there's　this　little　hairy　man　wandering　around　looking　lost　and　everything。　It's　not　right。'
　'Just　so　long　as　he's　not　here；'　said　Granny。　'We　don't　want　any　men　around。'
　'He's　a　ghost；　not　a　man；'　said　Magrat。
　'We　don't　have　to　go　into　details；'　Granny　said　icily。
　'But　you　can't　put　the　old　king　back　on　the　throne；'　said　Magrat。　'Ghosts　can't　rule。　You'd　never　get　the　crown　to　stay　on。　It'd　drop　through。'
　'We're　going　to　replace　him　with　his　son；'　said　Granny。　'Proper　succession。'
　'Oh；　we've　been　through　all　that；'　said　Nanny；　dismissively。　'In　about　fifteen　years'　time；　perhaps；　but…'
　'Tonight；'　said　Granny。
　'A　child　on　the　throne？　He　wouldn't　last　five　minutes。'
　'Not　a　child；'　said　Granny　quietly。　'A　grown　man。　Remember　Aliss　Demurrage？'
　There　was　silence。　Then　Nanny　Ogg　sat　back。
　'Bloody　hell；'　she　whispered。　'You　ain't　going　to　try　that；　are　you？'
　'I　mean　to　have　a　go。'
　'Bloody　hell；'　said　Nanny　again；　very　quietly；　and　added。　'You've　been　thinking　about　this；　have　you？'
　'Yes。'
　'See　here；　Esme。　I　mean；　Black　Aliss　was　one　of　the　best。　I　mean；　you're　very　good　at；　well；　headology　and　thinking　and　that。　I　mean；　Black　Aliss；　well；　she　just　upped　and　went　at　it。'
　'You　saying　I　couldn't　do　it；　are　you？'
　'Excuse　me；'　said　Magrat。
　'No。　No。　Of　course　not；'　said　Nanny；　ignoring　her。
　'Right。'
　'Only　。　。　。　well；　she　was　a；　you　know；　a　hoyden　of　witches；　like　the　king　said。'
　'Doyenne；'　said　Granny；　who　had　looked　it　up。　'Not　hoyden。'
　'Excuse　me；'　said　Magrat；　louder　this　time。　'Who　was　Black　Aliss？　And；'　she　added　quickly；　'none　of　this　exchanging　meaningful　glances　and　talking　over　my　head。　There's　three　witches　in　this　coven；　remember？'
　'She　was　before　your　time；'　said　Nanny　Ogg。　'Before　mine；　really。　She　lived　over　Skunid　way。　Very　powerful　witch。'
　'If　you　listen　to　rumour；'　said　Granny。
　'She　turned　a　pumpkin　into　a　royal　coach　once；'　said　Nanny。
　'Showy；'　said　Granny　Weatherwax。　'That's　no　help　to　anyone；　turning　up　at　a　ball　smelling　like　a　pie。　And　that　business　with　the　glass　slipper。　Dangerous；　to　my　mind。'
　'But　the　biggest　thing　she　ever　did；'　said　Nanny；　ignoring　the　interruption；　'was　to　send　a　whole　palace　to　sleep　for　a　hundred　years　until。　。　。'　She　hesitated。　'Can't　remember。　Was　there　rose　bushes　involved；　or　was　it　spinning　wheels　in　that　one？　I　think　some　princess　had　to　finger　。　。　。　no；　there　was　a　prince。　That　was　it。'
　'Finger　a　prince？'　said　Magrat；　uneasily。
　'No　。　。　。he　had　to　kiss　her。　Very　romantic；　Black　Aliss　was。　There　was　always　a　bit　of　romance　in　her　spells。　She　liked　nothing　better　than　Girl　meets　Frog。'
　'Why　did　they　call　her　Black　Aliss？'
　'Fingernails；'　said　Granny。
　'And　teeth；'　said　Nanny　Ogg。　'She　had　a　sweet　tooth。　Lived　in　a　real　gingerbread　cottage。　Couple　of　kids　shoved　her　in　her　own　oven　at　the　end。　Shocking。'
　'And　you're　going　to　send　the　castle　to　sleep？'　said　Magrat。
　'She　never　sent　the　castle　to　sleep；'　said　Granny。　'That's　just　an　old　wives'　tale；'　she　added；　glaring　at　Nanny。　'She　just　stirred　up　time　a　little。　It's　not　as　hard　as　people　think。　Everyone　does　it　all　the　time。　It's　like　rubber；　is　time。　You　can　stretch　it　to　suit　yourself。'
　Magrat　was　about　to　say；　that's　not　right；　time　is　time；　every　second　lasts　a　second；　that's　what　it's　for；　that's　its　job　。　。　。
　And　then　she　recalled　weeks　that　had　flown　past　and　afternoons　that　had　lasted　forever。　Some　minutes　had　lasted　hours；　some　hours　had　gone　past　so　quickly　she　hadn't　been　aware　they'd　gone　past　at　all　。　。　。
　'But　that's　just　people's　perception；'　she　said。　'Isn't　it？'
　'Oh；　yes；'　said　Granny；　'of　course　it　is。　It　all　is。　What　difference　does　that　make？'
　'A　hundred　years'd　be　over…egging　it；　mind；'　said　Nanny。
　'I　reckon　fifteen'd　be　a　nice　round　number；'　said　Granny。　'That　means　the　lad　will　be　eighteen　at　the　finish。　We　just　do　the　spell；　go　and　fetch　him；　he　can　manifest　his　destiny；　and　everything　will　be　nice　and　neat。'
　Magrat　didn't　ment　on　this；　because　it　had　occurred　to　her　that　destinies　sounded　easy　enough　when　you　talked　about　them　but　were　never　very　bankable　where　real　human　beings　were　concerned。　But　Nanny　Ogg　sat　back　and　tipped　another　generous　measure　of　apple　brandy　in　her　tea。
　'Could　work　out　nice；'　she　said。　'A　bit　of　peace　and　quiet　for　fifteen　years。　If　I　recall　the　spell；　after　you　say　it　you　have　to　fly　around　the　castle　before　cock　crow。'
　'I　wasn't　thinking　about　that；'　said　Granny。　'It　wouldn't　be　right。　Felmet　would　still　be　king　all　that　time。　The　kingdom　would　still　get　sick。　No；　what　I　was　thinking　of　doing　was　moving　the　whole　kingdom。'
　She　beamed　at　them。
　'The　whole　of　Lancre？'　said　Nanny。
　'Yes。'
　'Fifteen　years　into　the　future？'
　'Yes。'
　Nanny　looked　at　Granny's　broomstick。　It　was　a　well…made　thing；　built　to　last；　apart　from　the　occasional　starting　problem。　But　there　were　limits。
　'You'll　never　do　it；'　she　said。　'Not　around　the　whole　kingdom　in　that。　That's　all　the　way　up　to　Powderknife　and　down　to　Drumlin's　Fell。　You　just　couldn't　carry　enough　magic。'
　'I've　thought　of　that；'　said　Granny。
　She　beamed　again。　It　was　terrifying。
　She　explained　the　plan。　It　was　dreadful。
　A　minute　later　the　moor　was　deserted；　as　the　witches　hurried　to　their　tasks。　It　was　silent　for　a　while；　apart　from　the　squeak　of　bats　and　the　occasi