tp.lightfantastic-第13节

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　Druids？'　said　Trymon。　'I　wonder　。　。　。'
　

　'Are　you　all　right？'　said　Twoflower。　Rincewind　opened　his　eyes。
　The　wizard　sat　up　hurriedly　and　grabbed　Twoflower　by　the　shirt。
　'I　want　to　leave　here！'　he　said　urgently。　'Right　now！'
　'But　there's　going　to　be　an　ancient　and　traditional　ceremony　I'
　'I　don't　care　how　ancient！　I　want　the　feel　of　honest　cobbles　under　my　feet；　I　want　the　old　familiar　smell　of　cesspits；　I　want　to　go　where　there's　lots　of　people　and　fires　and　roofs　and　walls　and　friendly　things　like　that！　I　want　to　go　home！'
　He　found　that　he　had　this　sudden　desperate　longing　for　the　fuming；　smoky　streets　of　Ankh…Morpork；　which　was　always　at　its　best　in　the　spring；　when　the　gummy　sheen　on　the　turbid　waters　of　the　Ankh　River　had　a　special　iridescence　and　the　eaves　were　full　of　birdsong；　or　at　least　birds　coughing　rhythmically。
　A　tear　sprang　to　his　eye　as　he　recalled　the　subtle　play　of　light　on　the　Temple　of　Small　Gods；　a　noted　local　landmark；　and　a　lump　came　to　his　throat　when　he　remembered　the　fried　fish　stall　on　the　junction　of　Midden　Street　and　The　Street　of　Cunning　Artificers。　He　thought　of　the　gherkins　they　sold　there；　great　green　things　lurking　at　the　bottom　of　their　jar　like　drowned　whales。　They　called　to　Rincewind　across　the　miles；　promising　to　introduce　him　to　the　pickled　eggs　in　the　next　jar。
　He　thought　of　the　cosy　livery　stable　lofts　and　warm　gratings　where　he　spent　his　nights。　Foolishly；　he　had　sometimes　jibed　at　this　way　of　life。　It　seemed　incredible　now；　but　he　had　found　it　boring。
　Now　he'd　had　enough。　He　was　going　home。　Pickled　gherkins；　I　hear　you　calling　。　。　。
　He　pushed　Twoflower　aside；　gathered　his　tattered　robe　around　him　with　great　dignity；　set　his　face　towards　that　area　of　horizon　he　believed　to　contain　the　city　of　his　birth；　and　with　intense　determination　and　considerable　absentmindedness　stepped　right　off　the　top　of　a　thirty…foot　trilithon。
　Some　ten　minutes　later；　when　a　worried　and　rather　contrite　Twoflower　dug　him　out　of　the　large　snowdrift　at　the　base　of　the　stones；　his　expression　hadn't　changed。
　Twoflower　peered　at　him。
　'Are　you　all　right？'　he　said。　'How　many　fingers　am　I　holding　up？'
　'I　want　to　go　home！'
　'Okay。'
　'No；　don't　try　and　talk　me　out　of　it；　I've　had　enough；　I'd　like　to　say　it's　been　great　fun　but　I　can't；　and　…　what？'
　'I　said　okay；'　said　Twoflower。　'I'd　quite　like　to　see　Ankh…Morpork　again。　I　expect　they've　rebuilt　quite　a　lot　of　it　by　now。'
　It　should　be　noted　that　the　last　time　the　two　of　them　had　seen　the　city　it　was　burning　quite　fiercely；　a　fact　which　had　a　lot　to　do　with　Twoflower　introducing　the　concept　of　fire　insurance　to　a　venial　but　ignorant　populace。　But　devastating　fires　were　a　regular　feature　of　Morporkian　life　and　it　had　always　been　cheerfully　and　meticulously　rebuilt；　using　the　traditional　local　materials　of　tinder…dry　wood　and　thatch　waterproofed　with　tar。
　'Oh；'　said　Rincewind；　deflating　a　bit。　'Oh；　right。　Right　then。　Good。　Perhaps　we'd　better　be　off；　then。'
　He　scrambled　up　and　brushed　the　snow　off　himself。
　'Only　I　think　we　should　wait　until　morning；'　added　Twoflower。
　'Why？'
　'Well；　because　it's　freezing　cold；　we　don't　really　know　where　we　are；　the　Luggage　has　gone　missing；　it's　getting　dark…'
　Rincewind　paused。　In　the　deep　canyons　of　his　mind　he　thought　he　heard　the　distant　rustle　of　ancient　paper。　He　had　a　horrible　feeling　that　his　dreams　were　going　to　be　very　repetitive　from　now　on；　and　he　had　much　better　things　to　do　than　be　lectured　by　a　bunch　of　ancient　spells　who　couldn't　even　agree　on　how　the　Universe　began　…
　A　tiny　dry　voice　at　the　back　of　his　brain　said：　What　things？
　'Oh；　shut　up；'　he　said。
　'I　only　said　it's　freezing　cold　and…'　Twoflower　began。
　'I　didn't　mean　you；　I　meant　me。'
　'What？'
　'Oh；　shut　up；'　said　Rincewind　wearily。　'I　don't　suppose　there's　anything　to　eat　around　here？'
　The　giant　stones　were　black　and　menacing　against　the　dying　green　light　of　sunset。　The　inner　circle　was　full　of　druids；　scurrying　around　by　the　light　of　several　bonfires　and　tuning　up　all　the　necessary　peripherals　of　a　stone　puter；　like　rams'　skulls　on　poles　topped　with　mistletoe；　banners　embroidered　with　twisted　snakes　and　so　on。　Beyond　the　circles　of　firelight　a　large　number　of　plains　people　had　gathered；　druidic　festivals　were　always　popular；　especially　when　things　went　wrong。　Rincewind　stared　at　them。
　'What's　going　on？'
　'Oh；　well；'　said　Twoflower　enthusiastically；　'apparently　there's　this　ceremony　dating　back　for　thousands　of　years　to　celebrate　the；　um；　rebirth　of　the　moon；　or　possibly　the　sun。　No；　I'm　pretty　certain　it's　the　moon。　Apparently　it's　very　solemn　and　beautiful　and　invested　with　a　quiet　dignity。'
　Rincewind　shivered。　He　always　began　to　worry　when　Twoflower　started　to　talk　like　that。　At　least　he　hadn't　said　'picturesque'　or　'quaint'　yet；　Rincewind　had　never　found　a　satisfactory　translation　for　those　words；　but　the　nearest　he　had　been　able　to　e　was　'trouble'。
　'I　wish　the　Luggage　was　here；'　said　the　tourist　regretfully。　'I　could　use　my　picture　box。　It　sounds　very　quaint　and　picturesque。'
　The　crowd　stirred　expectantly。　Apparently　things　were　about　to　start。
　'Look；'　said　Rincewind　urgently。　'Druids　are　priests。　You　must　remember　that。　Don't　do　anything　to　upset　them。'
　'But…'
　'Don't　offer　to　buy　the　stones。'
　'But　I…'
　'Don't　start　talking　about　quaint　native　folkways。'
　'I　thought…'
　'Really　don't　try　to　sell　them　insurance；　that　always　upsets　them。'
　'But　they're　priests！'　wailed　Twoflower。　Rincewind　paused。
　'Yes；'　he　said。　That's　the　whole　point；　isn't　it？'
　At　the　far　side　of　the　outer　circle　some　sort　of　procession　was　forming　up。
　'But　priests　are　good　kind　men；'　said　Twoflower。　'At　home　they　go　around　with　begging　bowls。　It's　their　only　possession；'　he　added。
　'Ah；'　said　Rincewind；　not　certain　he　understood。　This　would　be　for　putting　the　blood　in；　right？'
　'Blood？'
　'Yes；　from　sacrifices。'　Rincewind　thought　about　the　priests　he　had　known　at　home。　He　was；　of　course；　anxious　not　to　make　an　enemy　of　any　god　and　had　attended　any　number　of　temple　functions　and；　on　the　whole；　he　thought　that　the　most　accurate　definition　of　any　priest　in　the　Circle　Sea　Regions　was　someone　who　spent　quite　a　lot　of　time　gory　to　the　armpits。
　Twoflower　looked　horrified。
　'Oh　no；'　he　said。　'Where　I　e　from　priests　are　holy　men　who　have　dedicated　themselves　to　lives　of　poverty；　good　works　and　the　study　of　the　nature　of　God。'
　Rincewind　considered　this　novel　proposition。
　'No　sacrifices？'　he　said。
　'Absolutely　not。'
　Rincewind　gave　up。　'Well；'　he　said；　'they　don't　sound　very　holy　to　me。'
　There　was　a　loud　blarting　noise　from　a　band　of　bronze　trumpets。　Rincewind　looked　around。　A　line　of　druids　marched　slowly　past；　their　long　sickles　hung　with　sprays　of　mistletoe。　Various　junior　druids　and　apprentices　followed　them；　playing　a　variety　of　percussion　instruments　that　were　traditionally　supposed　to　drive　away　evil　spirits　and　quite　probably　succeeded。
　Torchlight　made　excitingly　dramatic　patterns　on　the　stones；　which　stood　ominously　against　the　green…lit　sky。　Hubwards；　the　shimmering　curtains　of　the　aurora　coriolis　began　to　wink　and　glitter　among　the　stars　as　a　million　ice　rystals　danced　in　the　Disc's　magical　field。
　'Belafon　explained　it　all　to　me；'　whispered　Twoflower。　We're　going　to　see　a　time…honoured　ceremony　that　celebrates　the　Oneness　of　Man　with　the　Universe；　that　was　what　he　said。'
　Rincewind　looked　sourly　at　the　procession。　As　the　druids　spread　out　around　a　great　flat　stone　that　dominated　the　centre　of　the　circle　he　couldn't　help　noticing　the　attractive　if　rather　pale　young　lady　in　their　midst。　She　wore　a　long　white　robe；　a　gold　torc　around　her　neck；　and　an　expression　of　vague　apprehension。
　'Is　she　a　druidess？'　said　Twoflower。
　'I　don't　think　so；'　said　Rincewind　slowly。
　The　druids　began　to　chant。　It　was；　Rincewind　felt；　a　particularly　nasty　and　rather　dull　chant　which　sounded　very　much　as　if　it　was　going　to　build　up　to　an　abrupt　crescendo。　The　sight　of　the　young　woman　lying　down　on　the　big　stone　didn't　do　anything　to　derail　his　train　of　thought。
　'I　want　to　stay；'　said　Twoflower。　'I　think　ceremonies　like　this　hark　back　to　a　primitive　simplicity　which…'
　Yes；　yes；'　said　Rincewind；　'but　they're　going　to　sacrifice　her；　if　you　must　know。'
　Twoflower　looked　at　him　in　astonishment。
　'What；　kill　her？'
　'Yes。'
　'Why？'
　'Don't　ask　me。　To　make　the　crops　grow　or　the　moon　rise　or　something。　Or　maybe　they're　just　keen　on　killing　people。　That's　religion　for　you。'
　He　became　aware　of　a　low　humming　sound；　not　so　much　heard　as　felt。　It　seemed　to　be　ing　from　the　stone　next　to　them。　Little　points　of　light　flickered　under　its　surface；　like　mica　specks。
　Twoflower　was　opening　and　shutting　his　mouth。
　'Can't　they　just　use　flowers　and　berries　and　things？'　he　said。　'Sort　of　symbolic？'
　'Nope。'
　'Has　anyone　ever　tried？'
　Rincewind　sighed。　'Look；'　he　said。　'No　self…respecting　High　Priest　is　going　to　go　through　all　the　business　with　the　trumpets　and　the　processions　and　the　banners　and　everything；　and　then　shove　his　knife　into　a　daffodil　and　a　couple　of　plums。　You've　got　to　face　it；　all　this　stuff　about　golden　boughs　and　the　cycles　of　nature　and　stuff