tp.wyrd sisters-第30节

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t　would　impress　her；　he　thought。　Witches　were　very　keen　on　cats。　And　then　she'd　be　bound　to　ask　him　in；　for　a　cup　of　tea　or　something　。　。　。
　He　put　his　foot　in　another　water…filled　hole。　Something　wriggled　underneath　it。　The　Fool　groaned；　and　stepped　back　on　to　a　tumescent　mushroom。
　'Look；　cat；'　he　said。　'You've　got　to　e　down；　right？　And　then　you　can　find　your　way　home　and　I'll　follow　you。　Cats　are　good　at　seeing　in　the　dark　and　finding　their　own　way　home；'　he　added　hopefully。
　He　reached　up。　Greebo　sank　his　claws　into　his　arm　as　a　friendly　warning；　and　found　to　his　surprise　that　this　had　no　effect　on　chain　mail。
　'There's　a　good　cat；'　said　the　Fool；　and　lowered　him　to　the　ground。　'Go　on；　find　your　way　home。　Any　home　will　do。'
　Greebo's　grin　gradually　faded；　until　there　was　nothing　left　but　the　cat。　This　was　nearly　as　spooky　as　the　opposite　way　round。
　He　stretched　and　yawned　to　hide　his　embarrassment。　Being　called　a　good　cat　in　the　middle　of　one　of　his　favourite　stalking　grounds　wasn't　going　to　do　anything　for　his　prowl…credibility。　He　disappeared　into　the　undergrowth。
　The　Fool　peered　into　the　gloom。　It　dawned　on　him　that　while　he　liked　forests；　he　liked　them　at　one　remove；　as　it　were；　it　was　nice　to　know　that　they　were　there；　but　the　forests　of　the　mind　were　not　quite　the　same　as　real　forests　that；　for　example；　you　got　lost　in。　They　had　more　mighty　oaks　and　fewer　brambles。　They　also　tended　to　be　viewed　in　daylight；　and　the　trees　didn't　have　malevolent　faces　and　long　scratchy　branches。　The　trees　of　the　imagination　were　proud　giants　of　the　forest。　Most　of　the　trees　here　appeared　to　be　vegetable　gnomes；　mere　trellises　for　fungi　and　ivy。
　The　Fool　was　vaguely　aware　that　you　could　tell　which　direction　the　Hub　lay　by　seeing　which　side　of　the　trees　the　moss　grew　on。　A　quick　inspection　of　the　nearby　trunks　indicated　that；　in　defiance　of　all　normal　geography；　the　Hub　lay　everywhere。
　Greebo　had　vanished。
　The　Fool　sighed；　removed　his　chain　mail　protection；　and　tinkled　gently　through　the　night　in　search　of　high　ground。　High　ground　seemed　a　good　idea。　The　ground　he　was　on　at　the　moment　appeared　to　be　trembling。　He　was　sure　it　shouldn't　do　that。
　
　Magrat　hovered　on　her　broomstick　several　hundred　feet　above　the　Turnwise　borders　of　Lancre；　looking　down　on　a　sea　of　mist　through　which　the　occasional　treetop　poked　like　a　seaweed…covered　rock　at　high　tide。　A　bulging　moon　floated　above　her；　probably　gibbous　again。　Even　a　decent　thin　crescent　would　have　been　better；　she　felt。　More　appropriate。
　She　shivered；　and　wondered　where　Granny　Weatherwax　was　at　this　moment。
　The　old　witch's　broomstick　was　known　and　feared　throughout　the　skies　of　Lancre。　Granny　had　been　introduced　to　flying　quite　late　in　life；　and　after　some　initial　suspicion　had　taken　to　it　like　a　bluebottle　to　an　ancient　fish…head。　A　problem；　however；　was　that　Granny　saw　every　flight　simply　as　a　straight　line　from　A　to　B　and　was　unable　to　get　alongside　the　idea　that　other　users　of　the　air　might　have　any　rights　whatsoever；　the　flight　migration　patterns　of　an　entire　continent　had　been　changed　because　of　that　simple　fact。　High…speed　evolution　among　local　birds　had　developed　a　generation　that　flew　on　their　backs；　so　that　they　could　keep　a　watchful　eye　on　the　skies。
　Granny's　implicit　belief　that　everything　should　get　out　of　her　way　extended　to　other　witches；　very　tall　trees　and；　on　occasion；　mountains。
　Granny　had　also　browbeaten　the　dwarfs　who　lived　under　the　mountains　and　in　fear　of　their　lives　into　speeding　the　thing　up。　Many　an　egg　had　been　laid　in　mid…air　by　unsuspecting　fowls　who　had　suddenly　glimpsed　Granny　bearing　down　on　them；　scowling　over　the　top　of　the　broomstick。
　'Oh　dear；'　thought　Magrat。　'I　hope　she　hasn't　happened　to　someone。'
　A　midnight　breeze　turned　her　gently　around　in　the　air；　like　an　unsupported　weathercock。　She　shivered　and　squinted　at　the　moonlit　mountains；　the　high　Ramtops；　whose　freezing　crags　and　ice…green　chasms　acknowledged　no　king　or　cartographer。　Only　on　the　Rim　ward　side　was　Lancre　open　to　the　world；　the　rest　of　its　borders　looked　as　jagged　as　a　wolfs　mouth　and　far　more　impassable。　From　up　here　it　was　possible　to　see　the　whole　kingdom　。　。　。
　There　was　a　ripping　noise　in　the　sky　above　her；　a　blast　of　wind　that　spun　her　around　again；　and　a　Doppler…distorted　cry　of；　'Stop　dreaming；　girl！'
　She　gripped　the　bristles　with　her　knees　and　urged　the　stick　upward。
　It　took　several　minutes　to　catch　up　with　Granny；　who　was　lying　almost　full　length　along　her　broomstick　to　reduce　wind　resistance。　Dark　treetops　roared　far　below　them　as　Magrat　came　alongside。　Granny　turned　to　her；　holding　her　hat　on　with　one　hand。
　'Not　before　time；'　she　snapped。　'I　don't　reckon　this　one's　got　more'n　a　few　minutes　flight　left。　e　on；　get　a　move　on。'
　She　reached　out　a　hand。　So　did　Magrat。　Unsteadily；　the　broomsticks　bucking　and　dipping　in　one　another's　slipstream；　they　touched　fingertips。
　Magrat's　arm　tingled　as　the　power　flowed　up　it。＇15＇　Granny's　broomstick　jerked　forward。
　'Leave　me　a　bit；'　shouted　Magrat。　'I've　got　to　get　down！'
　'Shouldn't　be　difficult；'　screamed　Granny；　above　the　noise　of　the　wind。
　'I　mean　get　down　safely！'
　'You're　a　witch；　ain't　you？　By　the　way；　did　you　bring　the　cocoa？　I'm　freezing　up　here！'
　Magrat　nodded　desperately；　and　with　her　spare　hand　passed　up　a　straw　bag。
　'Right；'　said　Granny。　'Well　done。　See　you　at　Lancre　Bridge。'
　She　uncurled　her　fingers。
　Magrat　whirled　away　in　the　buffeting　wind；　clinging　tightly　to　a　broomstick　which　now；　she　feared；　had　about　as　much　buoyancy　as　a　bit　of　firewood。　It　certainly　wasn't　capable　of　sustaining　a　full…grown　woman　against　the　beckoning　fingers　of　gravity。
　As　she　plunged　down　towards　the　forest　roof　in　a　long　shallow　dive　she　reflected　that　there　was　possibly　something　plimentary　in　the　way　Granny　Weatherwax　resolutely　refused　to　consider　other　people's　problems。　It　implied　that；　in　her　considerable　opinion；　they　were　quite　capable　of　sorting　them　out　by　themselves。
　Some　kind　of　Change　spell　was　probably　in　order。
　Magrat　concentrated。
　Well；　that　seemed　to　work。
　Nothing　in　the　sight　of　mortal　man　had　in　fact　changed。　What　Magrat　had　achieved　was　a　mere　adjustment　of　the　mental　processes；　from　a　bewildered　and　slightly　frightened　woman　gliding　inexorably　towards　the　inhospitable　ground　to　a　clearheaded；　optimistic　and　positive　thinking　woman　who　had　really　got　it　together；　was　taking　full　responsibility　for　her　own　life　and　in　general　knew　where　she　was　ing　from　although；　unfortunately；　where　she　was　heading　had　not　changed　in　any　way。　But　she　felt　a　lot　better　about　it。
　She　dug　her　heels　in　and　forced　the　broomstick　to　yield　the　last　dregs　of　its　power　in　a　brief　burst；　sending　it　skimming　erratically　a　few　feet　from　the　trees。　As　it　sagged　again　and　started　to　plough　a　furrow　among　the　midnight　leaves　she　tensed　herself；　prayed　to　whatever　gods　of　the　forest　might　be　listening　that　she　would　land　on　something　soft；　and　let　go。
　There　are　three　thousand　known　major　gods　on　the　Disc；　and　research　theologians　discover　more　every　week。　Apart　from　the　minor　gods　of　rock；　tree　and　water；　there　are　two　that　haunt　the　Ramtops　…　Hoki；　half　a　man；　half　a　goat；　and　entirely　a　bad　practical　joker；　who　was　banished　from　Dunmanifestin　for　pulling　the　old　exploding　mistletoe　joke　on　Blind　Io；　chief　of　all　the　gods；　and　also　Herne　the　Hunted；　the　terrified　and　apprehensive　deity　of　all　small　furry　creatures　whose　destiny　it　is　to　end　their　lives　as　a　brief；　crunchy　squeak　。　。　。
　Either　could　have　been　candidates　for　the　small　miracle　which　then　occurred；　for　…　in　a　forest　full　of　cold　rocks；　jagged　stumps　and　thorn　bushes　…　Magrat　landed　on　something　soft。
　Granny；　meanwhile；　was　accelerating　towards　the　mountains　on　the　second　leg　of　the　journey。　She　consumed　the　regrettably　tepid　cocoa　and；　with　proper　environmental　consideration；　dropped　the　bottle　as　she　passed　over　an　upland　lake。
　It　turned　out　that　Magrat's　idea　of　sustaining　food　was　two　rounds　of　egg　and　cress　sandwiches　with　the　crusts　cut　off　and；　Granny　noticed　before　the　wind　whipped　it　away；　a　small　piece　of　parsley　placed　with　consideration　and　care　on　top　of　each　one。　Granny　regarded　them　for　some　time。　Then　she　ate　them。
　A　chasm　loomed；　still　choked　with　winter　snow。　Like　a　tiny　spark　in　the　darkness；　a　dot　of　light　against　the　hugeness　of　the　Ramtops；　Granny　tackled　the　maze　of　the　mountains。
　Back　in　the　forest；　Magrat　sat　up　and　absent…mindedly　pulled　a　twig　from　her　hair。　A　few　yards　away　the　broomstick　dropped　through　the　trees；　showering　leaves。
　A　groan　and　a　small；　half…hearted　tinkle　caused　her　to　peer　into　the　gloom。　An　indistinct　figure　was　on　its　hands　and　knees；　searching　for　something。
　'Did　I　land　on　you？'　said　Magrat。
　'Someone　did；'　said　the　Fool。
　They　crawled　nearer　to　one　another。
　'You？'
　'You！'
　'What　are　you　doing　here？'
　'Marry；　I　was　walking　along　the　ground；'　said　the　Fool。　'A　lot　of　people　do；　you　know。　I　mean；　I　know　it's　been　done　before。　It's　not　original。　It　probably　lacks　imagination　but；　well；　it's　always　been　good　enough　for　me。'
　'Did　I　hurt　you？'
　'I　think　I've　got　one　or　two　bells　that　won't　be　the　same　again。'
　The　Fool　scrabbl