tp.wyrd sisters-第13节

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　The　freezing　forests　were　silent　and　smelled　of　tin。　The　only　things　that　fell　from　the　sky　were　the　occasional　fresh　showers　of　snow。
　A　man　walked　across　the　moors　from　Razorback　to　Lancre　town　without　seeing　a　single　marshlight；　headless　dog；　strolling　tree；　ghostly　coach　or　et；　and　had　to　be　taken　in　by　a　tavern　and　given　a　drink　to　unsteady　his　nerves。
　The　stoicism　of　the　Ramtoppers；　developed　over　the　years　as　a　sovereign　resistance　to　the　thaumaturgical　chaos；　found　itself　unable　to　cope　with　the　sudden　change。　It　was　like　a　noise　which　isn't　heard　until　it　stops。
　Granny　Weatherwax　heard　it　now　as　she　lay　snug　under　a　pile　of　quilts　in　her　freezing　bedroom。　Hogswatchnight　is；　traditionally；　the　one　night　of　the　Disc's　long　year　when　witches　are　expected　to　stay　at　home；　and　she'd　had　an　early　night　in　the　pany　of　a　bag　of　apples　and　a　stone　hotwater　bottle。　But　something　had　awoken　her　from　her　doze。
　An　ordinary　person　would　have　crept　downstairs；　possibly　armed　with　a　poker。　Granny　simply　hugged　her　knees　and　let　her　mind　wander。
　It　hadn't　been　in　the　house。　She　could　feel　the　small；　fast　minds　of　mice；　and　the　fuzzy　minds　of　her　goats　as　they　lay　in　their　cosy　flatulence　in　the　outhouse。　A　hunting　owl　was　a　sudden　dagger　of　alertness　as　it　glided　over　the　rooftops。
　Granny　concentrated　harder；　until　her　mind　was　full　of　the　tiny　chittering　of　the　insects　in　the　thatch　and　the　woodworm　in　the　beams。　Nothing　of　interest　there。
　She　snuggled　down　and　let　herself　drift　out　into　the　forest；　which　was　silent　except　for　the　occasional　muffled　thump　as　snow　slid　off　a　tree。　Even　in　midwinter　the　forest　was　full　of　life；　usually　dozing　in　burrows　or　hibernating　in　the　middle　of　trees。
　All　as　usual。　She　spread　herself　further；　to　the　high　moors　and　secret　passes　where　the　wolves　ran　silently　over　the　frozen　crust；　she　touched　their　minds；　sharp　as　knives。　Higher　still；　and　there　was　nothing　in　the　snowfields　but　packs　of　vermine。＇6＇
　Everything　was　as　it　should　be；　with　the　exception　that　nothing　was　right。　There　was　something　…　yes；　there　was　something　alive　out　there；　something　young　and　ancient　and　。　。　。
　Granny　turned　over　the　feeling　in　her　mind。　Yes。　That　was　it。　Something　forlorn。　Something　lost。　And　。　。　。
　Feelings　were　never　simple；　Granny　knew。　Strip　them　away　and　there　were　others　underneath　。　。　。
　Something　that；　if　it　didn't　stop　feeling　lost　and　forlorn　very　soon；　was　going　to　get　angry。
　And　still　she　couldn't　find　it。　She　could　feel　the　tiny　minds　of　chrysalises　down　under　the　frozen　leafmould。　She　could　sense　the　earthworms；　which　had　migrated　below　the　frost　line。　She　could　even　sense　a　few　people；　who　were　hardest　of　all　…　human　minds　were　thinking　so　many　thoughts　all　at　the　same　time　that　they　were　nearly　impossible　to　locate；　it　was　like　trying　to　nail　fog　to　the　wall。
　Nothing　there。　Nothing　there。　The　feeling　was　all　around　her；　and　there　was　nothing　to　cause　it。　She'd　gone　down　about　as　far　as　she　could；　to　the　smallest　creature　in　the　kingdom；　and　there　was　nothing　there。
　Granny　Weatherwax　sat　up　in　bed；　lit　a　candle　and　reached　for　an　apple。　She　glared　at　her　bedroom　wall。
　She　didn't　like　being　beaten。　There　was　something　out　there；　something　drinking　in　magic；　something　growing；　something　dial　seemed　so　alive　it　was　all　around　the　house；　and　she　couldn't　find　it。
　She　reduced　the　apple　to　its　core　and　placed　it　carefully　in　the　tray　of　the　candlestick。　Then　she　blew　out　the　candle。
　The　cold　velvet　of　the　night　slid　back　into　the　room。
　Granny　had　one　last　try。　Perhaps　she　was　looking　in　the　wrong　way　。　。　。
　A　moment　later　she　was　lying　on　the　floor　with　the　pillow　clasped　around　her　head。
　And　to　think　she　had　expected　it　to　be　small　。　。　。
　
　Lancre　Castle　shook。　It　wasn't　a　violent　shaking；　but　it　didn't　need　to　be；　the　construction　of　the　castle　being　such　that　it　swayed　slightly　even　in　a　gentle　breeze。　A　small　turret　toppled　slowly　into　the　depths　of　the　misty　canyon。
　The　Fool　lay　on　his　flagstones　and　shivered　in　his　sleep。　He　appreciated　the　honour；　if　it　was　an　honour；　but　sleeping　in　the　corridor　always　made　him　dream　of　the　Fools'　Guild；　behind　whose　severe　grey　walls　he　had　trembled　his　way　through　seven　years　of　terrible　tuition。　The　flagstones　were　slightly　softer　than　the　beds　there；　though。
　A　few　feet　away　a　suit　of　armour　jingled　gently。　Its　pike　vibrated　in　its　mailed　glove　until；　swishing　through　the　night　air　like　a　swooping　bat；　it　slid　down　and　shattered　the　flagstone　by　the　Fool's　ear。
　The　Fool　sat　up　and　realised　he　was　still　shivering。　So　was　the　floor。
　In　Lord　Felmet's　room　the　shaking　sent　cascades　of　dust　down　from　the　ancient　four…poster。　He　awoke　from　a　dream　that　a　great　beast　was　tramping　around　the　castle；　and　decided　with　horror　that　it　might　be　true。
　A　portrait　of　some　long…dead　king　fell　off　the　wall。　The　duke　screamed。
　The　Fool　stumbled　in；　trying　to　keep　his　balance　on　a　floor　that　was　now　heaving　like　the　sea；　and　the　duke　staggered　out　of　bed　and　grabbed　the　little　man　by　his　jerkin。
　'What's　happening？'　he　hissed。　'Is　it　an　earthquake？'
　'We　don't　have　them　in　these　parts；　my　lord；'　said　the　Fool；　and　was　knocked　aside　as　a　chaise…longue　drifted　slowly　across　the　carpet。
　The　duke　dashed　to　the　window；　and　looked　out　at　the　forests　in　the　moonlight。　The　white…capped　trees　shook　in　the　still　night　air。
　A　slab　of　plaster　crashed　on　to　the　floor。　Lord　Felmet　spun　around　and　this　time　his　grip　lifted　the　Fool　a　foot　off　the　floor。
　Among　the　very　many　luxuries　the　duke　had　dispensed　with　in　his　life　was　that　of　ignorance。　He　liked　to　feel　he　knew　what　was　going　on。　The　glorious　uncertainties　of　existence　held　no　attraction　for　him。
　'It's　the　witches；　isn't　it？'　he　growled；　his　left　cheek　beginning　to　twitch　like　a　landed　fish。　They're　out　there；　aren't　they？　They're　putting　an　Influence　on　the　castle；　aren't　they？'
　'Marry；　nuncle…'　the　Fool　began。
　'They　run　this　country；　don't　they？'
　'No；　my　lord；　they've　never…'
　'Who　asked　you？'
　The　Fool　was　trembling　with　fear　in　perfect　anti…phase　to　the　castle；　so　that　he　was　the　only　thing　that　now　appeared　to　be　standing　perfectly　still。
　'Er；　you　did；　my　lord；'　he　quavered。
　'Are　you　arguing　with　me？'
　'No；　my　lord！'
　'I　thought　so。　You're　in　league　with　them；　I　suppose？'
　'My　lord！'　said　the　Fool；　really　shocked。
　'You're　all　in　league；　you　people！'　the　duke　snarled。　'The　whole　bunch　of　you！　You're　nothing　but　a　pack　of　ringleaders！'
　He　flung　the　Fool　aside　and　thrust　the　tall　windows　open；　striding　out　into　the　freezing　night　air。　He　glared　out　over　the　sleeping　kingdom。
　'Do　you　all　hear　me？'　he　screamed。　'I　am　the　king！'
　The　shaking　stopped；　catching　the　duke　off…balance。　He　steadied　himself　quickly；　and　brushed　the　plaster　dust　off　his　nightshirt。
　'Right；　then；'　he　said。
　But　this　was　worse。　Now　the　forest　was　listening。　The　words　he　spoke　vanished　into　a　great　vacuum　of　silence。
　There　was　something　out　there。　He　could　feel　it。　It　was　strong　enough　to　shake　the　castle；　and　now　it　was　watching　him；　listening　to　him。
　The　duke　backed　away；　very　carefully；　fumbling　behind　him　for　the　window　catch。　He　stepped　carefully　into　the　room；　shut　the　windows　and　hurriedly　pulled　the　curtains　across。
　'I　am　the　king；'　he　repeated；　quietly。　He　looked　at　the　Fool；　who　felt　that　something　was　expected　of　him。
　The　man　is　my　lord　and　master；　he　thought。　I　have　eaten　his　salt；　or　whatever　all　that　business　was。　They　told　me　at　Guild　school　that　a　Fool　should　be　faithful　to　his　master　until　the　very　end；　after　all　others　have　deserted　him。　Good　or　bad　doesn't　e　into　it。　Every　leader　needs　his　Fool。　There　is　only　loyalty。　That's　the　whole　thing。　Even　if　he　is　clearly　three…parts　bonkers；　I'm　his　Fool　until　one　of　us　dies。
　To　his　horror　he　realised　the　duke　was　weeping。
　The　Fool　fumbled　in　his　sleeve　and　produced　a　rather　soiled　red　and　yellow　handkerchief　embroidered　with　bells。　The　duke　took　it　with　an　expression　of　pathetic　gratitude　and　blew　his　nose。　Then　he　held　it　away　from　him　and　gazed　at　it　with　demented　suspicion。
　'Is　this　a　dagger　I　see　before　me？'　he　mumbled。
　'Um。　No；　my　lord。　It's　my　handkerchief；　you　see。　You　can　sort　of　tell　the　difference　if　you　look　closely。　It　doesn't　have　as　many　sharp　edges。'
　'Good　fool；'　said　the　duke；　vaguely。
　Totally　mad；　the　Fool　thought。　Several　bricks　short　of　a　bundle。　So　far　round　the　twist　you　could　use　him　to　open　wine　bottles。
　'Kneel　beside　me；　my　Fool。'
　The　Fool　did　so。　The　duke　laid　a　soiled　bandage　on　his　shoulder。
　'Are　you　loyal；　Fool？'　he　said。　'Are　you　trustworthy？'
　'I　swore　to　follow　my　lord　until　death；'　said　the　Fool　hoarsely。
　The　duke　pressed　his　mad　face　close　to　the　Fool；　who　looked　up　into　a　pair　of　bloodshot　eyes。
　'I　didn't　want　to；'　he　hissed　conspiratorially。　'They　made　me　do　it。　I　didn't　want…'
　The　door　swung　open。　The　duchess　filled　the　doorway。　In　fact；　she　was　nearly　the　same　shape。
　'Leonal！'　she　barked。
　The　Fool　was　fascinated　by　what　happened　to　the　duke's　eyes。　The　mad　red　flame　vanished；　was　sucked　backwards；　and　was　replaced　by　the　hard　blue　stare　he　had　e　to　recognise。　It　didn't　mean；　he　realised；　tha