tp.lightfantastic-第3节

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above。
　It　fell。　By　a　finely　calculated　exchange　of　velocities　Ga。cer　rose；　nightshirt　flapping　around　his　bony　legs。　Higher　and　higher　he　soared；　hurtling　through　the　pale　night　like　a；　like　a　…　all　right；　like　an　elderly　but　powerful　wizard　being　propelled　upwards　by　an　expertly　judged　thumb　on　the　scales　of　the　universe。
　He　landed　in　a　litter　of　old　nests；　caught　his　balance；　and　stared　down　at　the　vertiginous　view　of　a　Disc　dawn。
　At　this　time　of　the　long　year　the　Circle　Sea　was　almost　on　the　sunset　side　of　Cori　Celesti；　and　as　the　daylight　sloshed　down　into　the　lands　around　Ankh…Morpork　the　shadow　of　the　mountain　scythed　across　the　landscape　like　the　gnomon　of　God's　sundial。　But　nightwards；　racing　the　slow　light　towards　the　edge　of　the　world；　a　line　of　white　mist　surged　on。　There　was　a　crackling　of　dry　twigs　behind　him。　He　turned　to　see　Ymper　Trymon；　second　in　mand　of　the　Order；　who　had　been　the　only　other　wizard　able　to　keep　up。
　Galder　ignored　him　for　the　moment；　taking　care　only　to　keep　a　firm　grip　on　the　stonework　and　strengthen　his　personal　spells　of　protection。　Promotion　was　slow　in　a　profession　that　traditionally　bestowed　long　life；　and　it　was　accepted　that　younger　wizards　would　frequently　seek　advancement　via　dead　men's　curly　shoes；　having　previosly　emptied　them　of　their　occupants。　Besides；　there　was　something　disquieting　about　young　Trymon。　He　didn't　smoke；　only　drank　boiled　water；　and　Galder　had　the　nasty　suspicion　that　he　was　clever。　He　didn't　smile　often　enough；　and　he　liked　figures　and　the　sort　of　organisation　charts　that　show　lots　of　squares　with　arrows　pointing　：o　other　squares。　In　short；　he　was　the　sort　of　man　who　could　use　the　word　'personnel'　and　mean　it。
　The　whole　of　the　visible　Disc　was　now　covered　with　a　shmmering　white　skin　that　fitted　it　perfectly。
　Galder　looked　down　at　his　own　hands　and　saw　them　covered　with　a　pale　network　of　shining　threads　that　ollowed　every　movement。
　He　recognised　this　kind　of　spell。　He'd　used　them　himself。　But　his　had　been　smaller　…　much　smaller。
　'It's　a　Change　spell；'　said　Trymon。　The　whole　world　is　being　changed。'
　Some　people；　thought　Galder　grimly；　would　have　had　the　decency　to　put　an　exclamation　mark　on　the　end　of　a　statement　like　that。
　There　was　the　faintest　of　pure　sounds；　high　and　sharp；　like　the　breaking　of　a　mouse's　heart。
　'What　was　that？'　he　said。
　Trymon　cocked　his　head。
　'C　sharp；　I　think；'　he　said。
　Galder　said　nothing。　The　white　shimmer　had　vanished；　and　the。first　sounds　of　the　waking　city　began　to　filter　up　to　the　two　wizards。　Everything　seemed　exactly　the　same　as　it　had　before。　All　that；　just　to　make　things　stay　the　same？
　He　patted　his　nightshirt　pockets　distractedly　and　finally　found　what　he　was　looking　for　lodged　behind　his　ear。　He　put　the　soggy　dogend　in　his　mouth；　called　up　mystical　fire　from　between　his　fingers；　and　dragged　hard　on　the　wretched　rollup　until　little　blue　lights　flashed　in　front　of　his　eyes。　He　coughed　once　or　twice。
　He　was　thinking　very　hard　indeed。
　He　was　trying　to　remember　if　any　gods　owed　him　any　favours。
　

　In　fact　the　Gods　were　as　puzzled　by　all　this　as　the　wizards　were；　but　they　were　powerless　to　do　anything　and　in　any　case　were　engaged　in　an　eons…old　battle　with　the　Ice　Giants；　who　had　refused　to　return　the　lawnmower。
　But　some　clue　as　to　what　actually　had　happened　might　be　found　in　the　fact　that　Rincewind；　whose　past　life　had　just　got　up　to　a　quite　interesting　bit　when　he　was　fifteen；　suddenly　found　himself　not　dying　after　all　but　hanging　upside　down　in　a　pine　tree。
　He　got　down　easily　by　dropping　uncontrollably　from　branch　to　branch　until　he　landed　on　his　head　in　a　pile　of　pine　needles；　where　he　lay　gasping　for　breath　and　wishing　he　d　been　a　better　person。
　Somewhere；　he　knew；　there　had　to　be　a　perfectly　logical　connection。　One　minute　one　happens　to　be　dying；　having　dropped　off　the　rim　of　the　world；　and　the　next　one　is　upside　down　in　a　tree。
　As　always　happened　at　times　like　this；　the　Spell　rose　up　in　his　mind。
　Rincewind　had　been　generally　reckoned　by　his　tutors　to　be　a　natural　wizard　in　the　same　way　that　fish　are　natural　mountaineers。　He　probably　would　have　been　thrown　out　of　Unseen　University　anyway　…　he　couldn't　remember　spells　and　smoking　made　him　feel　ill　…　but　what　had　really　caused　trouble　was　all　that　stupid　business　about　sneaking　into　the　room　where　the　Octavo　was　chained　and　opening　it。
　And　what　made　the　trouble　even　worse　was　that　no…one　could　figure　out　why　all　the　locks　had　temporarily　bee　unlocked。
　The　spell　wasn｜t；sa　demanding　lodger。　It　just　sat　there　like　an　old　toad　at　the　bottom　of　a　pond。　But　whenever　Rincewind　was　feeling　really　tired　or　very　afraid　it　tried　to　get　itself　said。　No…one：knew　what　would　happen　if　one　of　the　Eight　Great　Spells　was　said　by　itself；　but　the　general　Agreement　was　that　the　best　place　from　which　to　watch　the　effects　would　be　the　next　universe。
　It　was　a　weird　thought　to　have；　lying　on　a　heap　of　pine　needles　after　just　falling　off　the　edge　of　the　world；　but　Rincewind　had　a　feeling　that　the　spell　wanted　to　keep　him　alive。
　'Suits　me；'　he　thought。
　He　sat　up　and　looked　at　the　trees。　Rincewind　was　a　city　wizard　and；　although　he　was　aware　that　there　were　various　differences　among　types　of　tree　by　which　their　nearest　and　dearest　could　tell　them　apart；　the　only　thing　he　knew　for　certain　was　that　the　end　without　the　leaves　on　fitted　nto　the　ground。　There　were　far　too　many　of　them；　arranged　with　absolutely　no　sense　of　order。　The　place　hadn't　been　swept　for　ages。
　He　remembered　something　about　being　able　to　tell　where　you　were　by　looking　at　which　side　of　a　tree　the　moss　grew　on。　These　trees　had　moss　everywhere；　and　wooden　warts；　and　scrabbly　old　branches；　if　trees　were　people；　these　trees　would　be　sitting　in　rocking　chairs。
　Rincewind　gave　the　nearest　one　a　kick。　With　unerring　aim　it　dropped　an　acorn　on　him。　He　said　'Ow。'　The　tree；　in　a　voice　like　a　very　old　door　swinging　open；　said；　'Serves　you　right。'
　There　was　a　long　silence。
　Then　Rincewind　said；　'Did　you　say　that？'
　'Yes。'
　'And　that　too？'
　'Yes。'
　'Oh。'　He　thought　for　a　bit。　Then　he　tried；　'I　suppose　you　wouldn't　happen　to　know　the　way　out　of　the　forest；　possibly；　by　any　chance？'
　'No。　I　don't　get　about　much；'　said　the　tree。
　'Fairly　boring　life；　I　imagine；'　said　Rincewind。
　'I　wouldn't　know。　I've　never　been　anything　else；'　said　the　tree。
　Rincewind　looked　at　it　closely。　It　seemed　pretty　much　like　every　other　tree　he'd　seen。
　'Are　you　magical？'　he　said。
　'No…one's　ever　said；'　said　the　tree；　'I　suppose　so。'
　Rincewind　thought：　I　can't　be　talking　to　a　tree。　If　I　was　talking　to　a　tree　I'd　be　mad；　and　I'm　not　mad；　so　trees　can't　talk。
　'Goodbye；'　he　said　firmly。
　'Hey；　don't　go；'　the　tree　began；　and　then　realised　the　hopelessness　of　it　all。　It　watched　him　stagger　off　through　the　bushes；　and　settled　down　to　feeling　the　sun　on　its　leaves；　the　slurp　and　gurgle　of　the　water　in　its　roots；　and　the　very　ebb　and　flow　of　its　sap　in　response　to　the　natural　tug　of　the　sun　and　moon。　Boring；　it　thought。　What　a　trange　thing　to　say。　Trees　can　be　bored；　of　course；　beetles　do　it　all　the　time；　but　I　don't　think　that　was　what　he　was　trying　to　mean。　And：　can　you　actually　be　anything　else？　In　fact　Rincewind　never　spoke　to　this　particular　tree　again；　but　from　that　brief　conversation　it　spun　the　basis　of　the　first　tree　religion　which；　in　time；　swept　the　forests　of　the　world。　Its　tenet　of　faith　was　this：　a　tree　that　was　a　good　tree；　and　led　a　clean；　decent　and　upstanding　life；　could　be　assured　of　a　future　life　after　death。　If　it　was　very　good　indeed　it　would　eventually　be　reincarnated　as　five　thousand　rolls　of　lavatory　paper。
　

　A　few　miles　away　Twoflower　was　also　getting　over　his　surprise　at　finding　himself　back　on　the　Disc。　He　was　sitting　on　the　hull　of　the　Potent　Voyager　as　it　gurgled　gradually　under　the　dark　waters　of　a　large　lake；　surrounded　by　trees。
　Strangely　enough；　he　was　not　particularly　worried。　Twoflower　was　a　tourist；　the　first　of　the　species　to　evolve　on　the　Disc；　and　fundamental　to　his　very　existence　was　the　rock…hard　belief　that　nothing　bad　could　really　happen　to　him　because　he　was　not　involved；　he　also　believed　that　anyone　could　understand　anything　he　said　provided　he　spoke　loudly　and　slowly；　that　people　were　basically　trustworthy；　and　that　anything　could　be　sorted　out　among　men　of　goodwill　if　they　just　acted　sensibly。
　On　the　face　of　it　this　gave　him　a　survival　value　marginally　less　than；　say；　a　soap　herring；　but　to　Rincewind's　amazement　it　all　seemed　to　work　and　the　little　man's　total　obliviousness　to　all　forms　of　danger　somehow　made　danger　so　discouraged　that　it　gave　up　and　went　away。
　Merely　being　faced　with　drowning　stood　no　chance。　Twoflower　was　quite　certain　that　in　a　well…organised　society　people　would　not　be　allowed　to　go　around　getting　drowned。
　He　was　a　little　bothered；　though；　about　where　his　Luggage　had　got　to。　But　he　forted　himself　with　the　nowledge　that　it　was　made　of　sapient　pearwood；　and　ought　to　be　intelligent　enough　to　look　after　itself　。　。　。
　

　In　yet　another　part　of　the　forest　a　young　shaman　was　undergoing　a　very　essential　part　of　his　training。　He　had　eaten　of　the　sacred　toadstool；　he　had　smoked　the　holy　rhizome；　he