tp.lightfantastic-第39节

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　'Isn't　what　exciting？'　he　said。
　'All　this　magic！'
　'It's　only　lights；'　said　Cohen　critically。　'He　hasn't　even　produced　doves　out　of　his　sleeves。'
　'Yes；　but　can't　you　sense　the　occult　potentiality？'　said　Twoflower。
　Cohen　produced　a　big　yellow　match　from　somewhere　in　his　tobacco　bag；　looked　at　Wert　for　a　moment；　and　with　great　deliberation　struck　the　match　on　his　fossilised　nose。
　'Look；'　he　said　to　Twoflower；　as　kindly　as　he　could　manage。　'What　do　you　expect？　I've　been　around　a　long　time；　I've　seen　the　whole　magical　thing；　and　I　can　tell　you　that　if　you　go　around　with　your　jaw　dropping　all　the　time　people　hit　it。　Anyway；　wizard's　die　just　like　anyone　else　when　you　stick　a　…'
　There　was　a　loud　snap　as　Rincewind　shut　the　book。　He　stood　up；　and　looked　around。
　What　happened　next　was　this：
　Nothing。
　It　took　a　little　while　for　people　to　realise　it。　Everyone　had　ducked　instinctively；　waiting　for　the　explosion　of　white　light　or　scintillating　fireball　or；　in　the　case　of　Cohen；　who　had　fairly　low　expectations；　a　few　white　pigeons；　possibly　a　slightly　crumpled　rabbit。
　It　wasn't　even　an　interesting　nothing。　Sometimes　things　can　fail　to　happen　in　quite　impressive　ways；　but　as　far　as　non…events　went　this　one　just　couldn't　pete。
　'Is　that　it？'　said　Cohen。　There　was　a　general　muttering　from　the　crowd；　and　several　of　the　star　people　were　looking　angrily　at　Rincewind。
　The　wizard　stared　Wearily　at　Cohen。
　'I　suppose　so；'　he　said。
　'But　nothing's　happened。'
　Rincewind　looked　blankly　at　the　Octavo。
　'Maybe　it　has　a　subtle　effect？'　he　said　hopefully。　'After　all；　we　don't　know　exactly　what　is　supposed　to　happen。'
　'We　knew　it！'　shouted　one　of　the　star　people。　'Magic　doesn't　work！　It's　all　illusion！'
　A　stone　looped　over　the　roof　and　hit　Rincewind　on　the　shoulder。
　'Yeah；'　said　another　star　person。　'Let's　get　him！'
　'Let's　throw　him　off　the　tower！'
　'Yeah；　let's　get　him　and　throw　him　off　the　tower！'
　The　crowd　surged　forward。　Twoflower　held　up　his　hands。
　'I'm　sure　there's　just　been　a　slight　mistake…'　he　began；　before　his　legs　were　kicked　from　underneath　him。
　'Oh　bugger；'　said　Cohen；　dropping　his　dogend　and　grinding　it　under　a　sandalled　foot。　He　drew　his　sword　and　looked　around　for　the　Luggage。
　It　hadn't　rushed　to　Twoflower's　aid。　It　was　standing　in　front　of　Rincewind；　who　was　clutching　the　Octavo　to　his　chest　like　a　hot…water　bottle　and　looking　frantic。
　A　star　man　lunged　at　him。　The　Luggage　raised　its　lid　threateningly。
　'I　know　why　it　hasn't　worked；'　said　a　voice　from　the　back　of　the　crowd。　It　was　Bethan。
　'Oh　yeah？'　said　the　nearest　citizen。　'And　why　should　we　listen　to　you？'
　A　mere　fraction　of　a　second　later　Cohen's　sword　was　pressed　against　his　neck。
　'On　the　other　hand；'　said　the　man　evenly；　'perhaps　we　should　pay　attention　to　what　this　young　lady　has　got　to　say。'
　As　Cohen　swung　around　slowly　with　his　sword　at　the　ready　Bethan　stepped　forward　and　pointed　to　the　swirling　shapes　of　the　spells；　which　still　hung　in　the　air　around　Rincewind。
　'That　one　can't　be　right；'　she　said；　indicating　a　smudge　of　dirty　brown　amidst　the　pulsing；　brightly　coloured　flares。
　You　must　have　mispronounced　a　word。　Let's　have　a　look。'
　Rincewind　passed　her　the　Octavo　without　a　word。
　She　opened　it　and　peered　the　pages。
　'What　funny　writing；'　she　said。　'It　keeps　changing。　What's　that　crocodile　thing　doing　to　the　octopus？'
　Rincewind　looked　over　her　shoulder　and；　without　thinking；　told　her。　She　was　silent　for　a　moment。
　'Oh；'　she　said　levelly。　'I　didn't　know　crocodiles　could　do　that。'
　'It's　just　ancient　picture　writing；'　said　Rincewind　hurriedly。　'It'll　change　if　you　wait。　The　Spells　can　appear　in　every　known　language。'
　'Can　you　remember　what　you　said　when　the　wrong　colour　appeared？'
　Rincewind　ran　a　finger　down　the　page。
　'There；　I　think。　Where　the　two…headed　lizard　is　doing　…　whatever　it's　doing。'
　Twoflower　appeared　at　her　other　shoulder。　The　Spell　flowed　into　another　script。
　'I　can't　even　pronounce　it；'　said　Bethan。　'Squiggle；　squiggle；　dot；　dash。'
　'That's　Cupumuguk　snow　runes；'　said　Rincewind。　'I　think　it　should　be　pronounced　〃zph〃。'
　'It　didn't　work；　though。　How　about　〃sph〃？'
　They　looked　at　the　word。　It　remained　resolutely　off…colour。
　'Or　〃sff〃？'　said　Bethan。
　'It　might　be　〃tsff〃；'　said　Rincewind　doubtfully。　If　anything　the　colour　became　a　dirtier　shade　of　brown。
　'How　about　〃zsff〃？'　said　Twoflower。
　'Don't　be　silly；'　said　Rincewind。　'With　snow　runes　the　…'
　Bethan　elbowed　him　in　the　stomach　and　pointed。
　The　brown　shape　in　the　air　was　now　a　brilliant　red。
　The　book　trembled　in　her　hands。　Rincewind　grabbed　her　around　the　waist；　snatched　Twoflower　by　the　collar；　and　jumped　backwards。
　Bethan　lost　her　grip　on　the　Octavo；　which　tumbled　towards　the　floor。　And　didn't　reach　it。
　

　The　air　around　the　Octavo　glowed。　It　rose　slowly；　flapping　its　pages　like　wings。
　Then　there　was　a　plangent；　sweet　twanging　noise　and　it　seemed　to　explode　in　a　plicated　silent　flower　of　light　which　rushed　outwards；　faded；　and　was　gone。
　But　something　was　happening　much　further　up　in　the　sky　。　。　。
　

　Down　in　the　geological　depths　of　Great　A'Tuin's　huge　brain　new　thoughts　surged　along　neural　pathways　the　size　of　arterial　roads。　It　was　impossible　for　a　sky　turtle　to　change　its　expression；　but　in　some　indefinable　way　its　scaly；　meteor…pocked　face　looked　quite　expectant。
　It　was　staring　fixedly　at　the　eight　spheres　endlessly　orbiting　around　the　star；　on　the　very　beaches　of　space。
　The　spheres　were　cracking。
　Huge　segments　of　rock　broke　away　and　began　the　long　spiral　down　to　the　star。　The　sky　filled　with　glittering　shards。
　From　the　wreakage　of　one　hollow　shell　a　very　small　sky　turtle　paddled　its　way　into　the　red　light。　It　was　barely　bigger　than　an　asteroid；　its　shell　still　shiny　with　molten　yolk。
　There　were　four　small　world…elephant　calves　on　there；　too。　And　on　their　backs　was　a　discworld；　tiny　as　yet；　covered　in　smoke　and　volcanoes。
　Great　A'Tuin　waited　until　all　eight　baby　turtles　had　freed　themselves　from　their　shells　and　were　treading　space　and　looking　bewildered。　Then；　carefully；　so　as　not　to　dislodge　anything；　the　old　turtle　turned　and　with　considerable　relief　set　out　on　the　long　swim　to　the　blessedly　cool；　bottomless　depths　of　space。
　The　young　turtles　followed；　orbiting　their　parent。
　

　Twoflower　stared　raptly　at　the　display　overhead。　He　probably　had　the　best　view　of　anyone　on　the　Disc。
　Then　a　terrible　thought　occurred　to　him。
　'Where's　the　picture　box？'　he　asked　urgently。
　'What？'　said　Rincewind；　eyes　fixed　on　the　sky。
　'The　picture　box；'　said　Twoflower。　'I　must　get　a　picture　of　this！'
　'Can't　you　just　remember　it？'　said　Bethan；　not　looking　at　him。
　'I　might　forget。'
　'I　won't　ever　forget；'　she　said。　'It's　the　most　beautiful　thing　I've　ever　seen。'
　'Much　better　than　pigeons　and　billiard　balls；'　agreed　Cohen。　'I'll　give　you　that；　Rincewind。　How's　it　done？'
　'I　dunno；'　said　Rincewind。
　'The　star's　getting　smaller；'　said　Bethan。
　Rincewind　was　vaguely　aware　of　Twoflower's　voice　arguing　with　the　demon　who　lived　in　the　box　and　painted　the　pictures。　It　was　quite　a　technical　argument；　about　field　depths　and　whether　or　not　the　demon　still　had　enough　red　paint。
　It　should　be　pointed　out　that　currently　Great　A'Tuin　was　very　pleased　and　contented；　and　feelings　like　that　in　a　brain　the　size　of　several　large　cities　are　bound　to　radiate　out。　In　fact　most　people　on　the　Disc　were　currently　in　a　state　of　mind　normally　achievable　only　by　a　lifetime　of　dedicated　meditation　or　about　thirty　seconds　of　illegal　herbage。
　That's　old　Twoflower；　Rincewind　thought。　It's　not　that　he　doesn't　appreciate　beauty；　he　just　appreciates　it　in　his　own　way。　I　mean；　if　a　poet　sees　a　daffodil　he　stares　at　it　and　writes　a　long　poem　about　it；　but　Twoflower　wanders　off　to　find　a　book　on　botany。　And　treads　on　it。　It's　right　what　Cohen　said。　He　just　looks　at　things；　but　nothing　he　looks　at　is　ever　the　same　again。　Including　me；　I　suspect。
　The　Disc's　own　sun　rose。　The　star　was　already　dwindling；　and　it　wasn't　quite　so　much　petition。　Good　reliable　Disc　light　poured　across　the　enraptured　landscape；　like　a　sea　of　gold。
　Or；　as　the　more　reliable　observers　generally　held；　like　golden　syrup。
　

　That　is　a　nice　dramatic　ending；　but　life　doesn't　work　like　that　and　there　were　other　things　that　had　to　happen。
　There　was　the　Octavo；　for　example。
　As　the　sunlight　hit　it　the　book　snapped　shut　and　started　to　fall　back　to　the　tower。　And　many　of　the　observers　realised　that　dropping　towards　them　was　the　single　most　magical　thing　on　the　Discworld。
　The　feeling　of　bliss　and　brotherhood　evaporated　along　with　the　morning　dew。　Rincewind　and　Twoflower　were　elbowed　aside　as　the　crowd　surged　forward；　struggling　and　trying　to　climb　up　one　another；　hands　outstretched。
　The　Octavo　dropped　into　the　centre　of　the　shouting　mass。　There　was　a　snap。　A　decisive　snap；　the　sort　of　snap　made　by　a　lid　that　doesn't　intend　to　be　opening　in　a　hurry。
　Rincewind　peered　between　someone's　legs　at　Twoflower。
　'Do　you　know　what　I　think's　going　to　happen？'　he　said；　grinning。
　'What？'
　'I　think　that　when　you　open　the　Luggage　there's　just　going　to　be　your　laundry　in　there；　that's　what