tp.lightfantastic-第19节

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　'Bloody　hell；'　it　said。　'Where　are　we？'
　'It　doesn't　matter；'　said　Twoflower。　The　clock　first；　I　think。'
　The　demon　squinted。
　'Poor　light；'　he　said。　Three　bloody　years　at　f8；　if　you　ask　me。'　He　slammed　the　door　shut。　A　second　later　there　was　the　tiny　scraping　noise　of　his　stool　being　dragged　up　to　his　easel。
　Rincewind　gritted　his　teeth。
　'You　don't　need　to　take　pictures；　you　can　just　remember　it！'　he　shouted。
　It's　not　the　same；'　said　Twoflower　calmly。
　'It's　better！　It's　more　real！'
　'It　isn't　really。　In　years　to　e；　when　I'm　sitting　by　the　fire　…'
　'You'll　be　sitting　by　the　fire　forever　if　we　don't　get　out　of　here！'
　'Oh；　I　do　hope　you're　not　going。'
　They　both　turned。　Ysabell　was　standing　in　the　archway；　smiling　faintly。　She　held　a　scythe　in　one　hand；　a　scythe　with　a　blade　of　proverbial　sharpness。　Rincewind　tried　not　to　look　down　at　his　blue　lifeline；　a　girl　holding　a　scythe　shouldn't　smile　in　that　unpleasant；　knowing　and　slightly　deranged　way。
　'Daddy　seems　a　little　preoccupied　at　the　moment　but　I'm　sure　he　wouldn't　dream　of　letting　you　go　off　just　like　that；'　she　added。　'Besides；　I'd　have　no…one　to　talk　to。'
　'Who's　this？'　said　Twoflower。
　'She　sort　of　lives　here；'　mumbled　Rincewind。　'She's　a　sort　of　girl；'　he　added。
　He　grabbed　Twoflower's　shoulder　and　tried　to　shuffle　imperceptibly　towards　the　door　into　the　dark；　cold　garden。　It　didn't　work；　largely　because　Twoflower　wasn't　the　sort　of　person　who　went　in　for　nuances　of　expression　and　somehow　never　assumed　that　anything　bad　might　apply　to　him。
　'Charmed；　I'm　sure；'　he　said。　Very　nice　place；　you　have　here。　Interesting　baroque　effect　with　the　bones　and　skulls。'
　Ysabell　smiled。　Rincewind　thought：　if　Death　ever　does　hand　over　the　family　business；　she'll　be　better　at　it　than　he　is　…　she's　bonkers。
　'Yes；　but　we　must　be　going；'　he　said。
　'I　really　won't　hear　of　it；'　she　said。　You　must　stay　and　tell　me　all　about　yourselves。　There's　plenty　of　time　and　it's　so　boring　here。'
　She　darted　sideways　and　swung　the　scythe　at　the　shining　threads。　It　screamed　through　the　air　like　a　neutered　tomcat　…　and　stopped　sharply。
　There　was　the　creak　of　wood。　The　Luggage　had　snapped　its　lid　shut　on　the　blade。
　Twoflower　looked　up　at　Rincewind　in　astonishment。
　And　the　wizard；　with　great　deliberation　and　a　certain　amount　of　satisfaction；　hit　him　smartly　on　the　chin。　As　the　little　man　fell　backwards　Rincewind　caught　him；　threw　him　over　a　shoulder　and　ran。
　Branches　whipped　at　him　in　the　starlit　garden；　and　small；　furry　and　probably　horrible　things　scampered　away　as　he　pounded　desperately　along　the　faint　lifeline　that　shone　eerily　on　the　freezing　grass。
　From　the　building　behind　him　came　a　shrill　scream　of　disappointment　and　rage。　He　cannoned　off　a　tree　and　sped　on。
　Somewhere　there　was　a　path；　he　remembered。　But　in　this　maze　of　silver　light　and　shadows；　tinted　now　with　red　as　the　terrible　new　star　made　its　presence　felt　even　in　the　netherworld；　nothing　looked　right。　Anyway；　the　lifeline　appeared　to　be　going　in　quite　the　wrong　direction。
　There　was　the　sound　of　feet　behind　him。　Rincewind　wheezed　with　effort；　it　sounded　like　the　Luggage；　and　at　the　moment　he　didn't　want　to　meet　the　Luggage；　because　it　might　have　got　the　wrong　idea　about　him　hitting　its　master；　and　generally　the　Luggage　bit　people　it　didn't　like。　Rincewind　had　never　had　the　nerve　to　ask　where　it　was　they　actually　went　when　the　heavy　lid　slammed　shut　on　them；　but　they　certainly　weren't　there　when　it　opened　again。
　In　fact　he　needn't　have　worried。　The　Luggage　overtook　him　easily；　its　little　legs　a　blur　of　movement。　It　seemed　to　Rincewind　to　be　concentrating　very　heavily　on　running；　as　if　it　had　some　inkling　of　what　was　ing　up　behind　it　and　didn't　like　the　idea　at　all。
　Don't　look　back；　he　remembered。　The　view　probably　isn't　very　nice。
　The　Luggage　crashed　through　a　bush　and　vanished。
　A　moment　later　Rincewind　saw　why。　It　had　careened　over　the　edge　of　the　outcrop　and　was　dropping　towards　the　great　hole　underneath；　which　he　could　now　see　was　faintly　red　lit　at　the　bottom。　Stretching　from　Rincewind；　out　over　the　edge　of　the　rocks　and　down　into　the　hole；　were　two　shimmering　blue　lines。
　He　paused　uncertainly；　although　that　isn't　precisely　true　because　he　was　totally　certain　of　several　things；　for　example　that　he　didn't　want　to　jump；　and　that　he　certainly　didn't　want　to　face　whatever　it　was　ing　up　behind　him；　and　that　in　the　spirit　world　Twoflower　was　quite　heavy；　and　that　there　were　worse　things　than　being　dead。
　'Name　two；'　he　muttered；　and　jumped。
　A　few　seconds　later　the　horsemen　arrived　and　didn't　stop　when　they　reached　the　edge　of　the　rock　but　simply　rode　into　the　air　and　reined　their　horses　over　nothingness。
　Death　looked　down。
　THAT　ALWAYS　ANNOYS　ME；　he　said。　I　MIGHT　AS　WELL　INSTALL　A　REVOLVING　DOOR。
　'I　wonder　what　they　wanted！'　said　Pestilence。
　'Search　me；'　said　War。　'Nice　game；　though。'
　'Right；'　agreed　Famine。　'pelling；　I　thought。'
　WE'VE　GOT　TIME　FOR　ANOTHER　FONDLE；　said　Death。
　'Rubber；'　corrected　War。
　RUBBER　WHAT？
　'You　call　them　rubbers；'　said　War。
　RIGHT；　RUBBERS；　said　Death。　He　looked　up　at　the　new　star；　puzzled　as　to　what　it　might　mean。
　I　THINK　WE'VE　GOT　TIME；　he　repeated；　a　trifle　uncertainly。
　

　Mention　has　already　been　made　of　an　attempt　to　inject　a　little　honesty　into　reporting　on　the　Disc；　and　how　poets　and　bards　were　banned　on　pain　of　…　well；　pain　…　from　going　on　about　babbling　brooks　and　rosy…fingered　dawn　and　could　only　say；　for　example；　that　a　face　had　launched　a　thousand　ships　if　they　were　able　to　produce　certified　dockyard　accounts。
　And　therefore；　out　of　a　passing　respect　for　this　tradition；　it　will　not　be　said　of　Rincewind　and　Twoflower　that　they　became　an　ice…blue　sinewave　arcing　through　the　dark　imensions；　or　that　there　was　a　sound　like　the　twanging　of　a　monstrous　tusk；　or　that　their　lives　passed　in　front　of　their　eyes　（Rincewind　had　in　any　case　seen　his　past　life　flash　in　front　of　his　eyes　so　many　times　that　he　could　sleep　through　the　boring　bits）　or　that　the　universe　dropped　on　them　like　a　large　jelly。
　It　will　be　said；　because　experiment　has　proven　it　to　be　true；　that　there　was　a　noise　like　a　wooden　ruler　being　struck　heavily　with　a　C　sharp　tuning　fork；　possibly　B　flat；　and　a　sudden　sensation　of　absolute　stillness。
　This　was　because　they　were　absolutely　still；　and　it　was　absolutely　dark。
　It　occurred　to　Rincewind　that　something　had　gone　wrong。
　Then　he　saw　the　faint　blue　tracery　in　front　of　him。
　He　was　inside　the　Octavo　again。　He　wondered　what　would　happen　if　anyone　opened　the　book；　would　he　and　Twoflower　appear　like　a　colour　plate？
　Probably　not；　he　decided。　The　Octavo　they　were　in　was　something　a　bit　different　from　the　mere　book　chained　to　its　lectern　deep　in　Unseen　University；　which　was　merely　a　three…dimensional　representation　of　a　multidimensional　reality；　and…
　Hold　on；　he　thought。　I　don't　think　like　this。　Who's　thinking　for　me？
　'Rincewind；'　said　a　voice　like　the　rustle　of　old　pages。
　'Who？　Me？'
　'Of　course　you；　you　daft　sod。'
　A　flicker　of　defiance　flared　very　briefly　in　Rincewind's　battered　heart。
　'Have　you　managed　to　recall　how　the　Universe　started　yet？'　he　said　nastily。　'The　Clearing　of　the　Throat；　wasn't　it；　or　the　Drawing　of　the　Breath；　or　the　Scratching　of　the　Head　and　Trying　to　Remember　It；　It　was　On　the　Tip　of　the　Tongue？'
　Another　voice；　dry　as　tinder；　hissed；　'You　would　do　well　to　remember　where　you　are。'　It　should　be　impossible　to　hiss　a　sentence　with　no　sibilants　in　it；　but　the　voice　made　a　very　good　attempt。
　'Remember　where　I　am？　Remember　where　I　am？'　shouted　Rincewind。　'Of　course　I　remember　where　I　am；　I'm　inside　a　bloody　book　talking　to　a　load　of　voices　I　can't　see；　why　do　you　think　I'm　screaming？'
　'I　expect　you're　wondering　why　we　brought　you　here　again；'　said　a　voice　by　his　ear。
　'No。'
　'No？'
　'What　did　he　say？'　said　another　disembodied　voice。
　'He　said　no。'
　'He　really　said　no？'
　'Yes。'
　'Oh。'
　'Why？'
　'This　sort　of　thing　happens　to　me　all　the　time；'　said　Rincewind。　'One　minute　I'm　falling　off　the　world；　then　I'm　inside　a　book；　then　I'm　on　a　flying　rock；　then　I'm　watching　Death　learn　how　to　play　Weir　or　Dam　or　whatever　it　was；　why　should　I　wonder　about　anything？'
　'Well；　we　imagine　you　will　be　wondering　why　we　don't　want　anyone　to　say　us；'　said　the　first　voice；　aware　that　it　was　losing　the　initiative。
　Rincewind　hesitated。　The　thought　had　crossed　his　mind；　only　very　fast　and　looking　nervously　from　side　to　side　in　case　it　got　knocked　over。
　'Why　should　anyone　want　to　say　you？'
　'It's　the　star；'　said　the　spell。　'The　red　star。　Wizards　are　already　looking　for　you；　when　they　find　you　they　want　to　say　all　eight　Spells　together　to　change　the　future。　They　think　the　Disc　is　going　to　collide　with　the　star。'
　Rincewind　thought　about　this。　'Is　it？'
　'Not　exactly；　but　in　a…　what's　that？'
　Rincewind　looked　down。　The　Luggage　padded　out　of　the　darkness。　There　was　a　long　sliver　of　scytheblade　in　its　lid。
　'It's　just　the　Luggage；'　he　said。
　'But　we　didn't　summon　it　here！'
　'No…one　summons　it　anywhere；'　said　Rincewind。　'It　just　turns　up。　Don't　worry　about　it。'
　'Oh。　What　were　we　talking　about？'
　'This　red　star　thing。'
　'Right。　It's