tp.wyrd sisters-第38节

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e　the　Troll　more　than　I　should。'
　The　other　two　stared。
　'He's　the　one　that　has　people's　limbs　torn　off！'　said　Tomjon。
　'How　much　do　you　owe　him？'　said　Hwel。
　'It's　all　right；'　said　Vitoller　hurriedly；　Tm　keeping　up　the　interest　payments。　More　or　less。'
　'Yes；　but　how　much　does　he　want？'
　'An　arm　and　a　leg。'
　The　dwarf　and　boy　stared　at　him　in　horror。　'How　could　you　have　been　so…'
　'I　did　it　for　you　two！　Tomjon　deserves　a　better　stage；　he　doesn't　want　to　go　ruining　his　health　sleeping　in　lattys　and　never　knowing　a　home；　and　you；　my　man；　you　need　somewhere　settled；　with　all　the　proper　things　you　ought　to　have；　like　trapdoors　and　。　。　。　wave　machines　and　so　forth。　You　talked　me　into　it；　and　I　thought；　they're　right。　It's　no　life　out　on　the　road；　giving　two　performances　a　day　to　a　bunch　of　farmers　and　going　round　with　a　hat　afterwards；　what　sort　of　future　is　that？　I　thought；　we've　got　to　get　a　place　somewhere；　with　fortable　seats　for　the　gentry；　people　who　don't　throw　potatoes　at　the　stage。　I　said；　blow　the　cost。　I　just　wanted　you　to…'
　'All　right；　all　right！'　shouted　Hwel。　'I'll　write　it！'
　'I'll　act　it；'　said　Tomjon。
　'I'm　not　forcing　you；　mind；'　said　Vitoller。　'It's　your　own　choice。'
　Hwel　frowned　at　the　table。　There　were；　he　had　to　admit；　some　nice　touches。　Three　witches　was　good。　Two　wouldn't　be　enough；　four　would　be　too　many。　They　could　be　meddling　with　the　destinies　of　mankind；　and　everything。　Lots　of　smoke　and　green　light。　You　could　do　a　lot　with　three　witches。　It　was　surprising　no…one　had　thought　of　it　before。
　'So　we　can　tell　this　Fool　that　we'll　do　it；　can　we？'　said　Vitoller；　his　hand　on　the　bag　of　silver。
　And　of　course　you　couldn't　go　wrong　with　a　good　storm。　And　there　was　the　ghost　routine　that　Vitoller　had　cut　out　of　Please　Yourself；　saying　they　couldn't　afford　the　muslin。　And　perhaps　he　could　put　Death　in；　too。　Young　Dafe　would　make　a　damn　good　Death；　with　white　makeup　and　platform　soles　。　。　。
　'How　far　away　did　he　say　he'd　e　from？'　he　said。
　'The　Ramtops；'　said　the　playmaster。　'Some　little　kingdom　no…one　has　ever　heard　of。　Sounds　like　a　chest　infection。'
　'It'd　take　months　to　get　there。'
　'I'd　like　to　go；　anyway；'　said　Tomjon。　'That's　where　I　was　born。'
　Vitoller　looked　at　the　ceiling。　Hwel　looked　at　the　floor。　Anything　was　better；　just　at　that　moment；　than　looking　at　each　other's　face。
　'That's　what　you　said；'　said　the　boy。　'When　you　did　a　tour　of　the　mountains；　you　said。'
　'Yes；　but　I　can't　remember　where；'　said　Vitoller。　'All　those　little　mountain　towns　looked　the　same　to　me。　We　spent　more　time　pushing　the　lattys　across　rivers　and　dragging　them　up　hills　than　we　ever　did　on　the　stage。'
　'I　could　take　some　of　the　younger　lads　and　we　could　make　a　summer　of　it；'　said　Tomjon。　'Put　on　all　the　old　favourites。　And　we　could　still　be　back　by　Soulcake　Day。　You　could　stay　here　and　see　to　the　theatre；　and　we　could　be　back　for　a　Grand　Opening。'　He　grinned　at　his　father。　'It'd　be　good　for　them；'　he　said　slyly。　'You　always　said　some　of　the　young　lads　don't　know　what　a　real　acting　life　is　like。'
　'Hwel's　still　got　to　write　the　play；'　Vitoller　pointed　out。
　Hwel　was　silent。　He　was　staring　at　nothing　at　all。　After　a　while　one　hand　fumbled　in　his　doublet　and　brought　out　a　sheaf　of　paper；　and　then　disappeared　in　the　direction　of　his　belt　and　produced　a　small　corked　ink　pot　and　a　bundle　of　quills。
　They　watched　as；　without　once　looking　at　them；　the　dwarf　smoothed　out　the　paper；　opened　the　ink　pot；　dipped　a　quill；　held　it　poised　like　a　hawk　waiting　for　its　prey；　and　then　began　to　write。
　Vitoller　nodded　at　Tomjon。
　Walking　as　quietly　as　they　could；　they　left　the　room。
　Around　mid…afternoon　they　took　up　a　tray　of　food　and　a　bundle　of　paper。
　The　tray　was　still　there　at　teatime。　The　paper　had　gone。
　A　few　hours　later　a　passing　member　of　the　pany　reported　hearing　a　yell　of　'It　can't　work！　It's　back　to　front！'　and　the　sound　of　something　being　thrown　across　the　room。
　Around　supper　Vitoller　heard　a　shouted　request　for　more　candles　and　fresh　quills。
　Tomjon　tried　to　get　an　early　night；　but　sleep　was　murdered　by　the　sound　of　creativity　from　the　next　room。　There　were　mutterings　about　balconies；　and　whether　the　world　really　needed　wave　machines。　The　rest　was　silence；　except　for　the　insistent　scratching　of　quills。
　Eventually；　Tomjon　dreamed。
　'Now。　Have　we　got　everything　this　time？'
　'Yes；　Granny。'
　'Light　the　fire；　Magrat。'
　'Yes；　Granny。'
　'Right。　Let's　see　now…'
　'I　wrote　it　all　down；　Granny。'
　'I　can　read；　my　girl；　thank　you　very　much。　Now；　what's　this。　〃Round　about　the　cauldron　go；　In　the　poisoned　entrails　throw　。　。　。〃　What　are　these　supposed　to　be？'
　'Our　Jason　slaughtered　a　pig　yesterday；　Esme。'
　'These　look　like　perfectly　good　chitterlin's　to　me；　Gytha。　There's　a　couple　of　decent　meals　in　them；　if　I'm　any　judge。'
　'Please；　Granny。'
　'There's　plenty　of　starvin'　people　in　Klatch　who　wouldn　't
　turn　up　their　nose　at　'em；　that's　all　I'm　saying　。　。　。　All　right；　all　right。　〃Whole　grain　wheat　and　lentils　too；　In　the　cauldron　seethe　and　stew〃？　What　happened　to　the　toad？'
　'Please；　Granny。　You　're　slowing　it　down。　You　know　Goodie　was　against　all　unnecessary　cruelty。　Vegetable　protein　is　a　perfectly　acceptable　substitute。'
　'That　means　no　newt　or　fenny　snake　either；　I　suppose？'
　'No；　Granny。'
　'Or　tiger's　chaudron？'
　'Here。'
　'What　the　hell's　this；　excuse　my　Klatchian？'
　'It's　a　tiger's　chaudron；　Our　Wane　brought　it　off　a　merchant　from　forn　parts。'
　'You　sure？'
　'Our　Wane　asked　special；　Esme。'
　'Looks　like　any　other　chaudron　to　me。　Oh；　well。　〃Double　nubble；　stubble　trouble；　Fire　burn　and　cauldron　bub…〃　WHY　isn't　the　cauldron　bubbling；　Magrat？'
　Tomjon　awoke；　shivering。　The　room　was　dark。　Outside　a　few　stars　pierced　the　mists　of　the　city；　and　there　was　the　occasional　whistle　of　burglars　and　footpads　as　they　went　about　their　strictly　lawful　occasions。
　There　was　silence　from　the　next　room；　but　he　could　see　the　light　of　a　candle　under　the　door。
　He　went　back　to　bed。
　Across　the　turgid　river　the　Fool　had　also　awakened。　He　was　staying　in　the　Fool's　Guild；　not　out　of　choice　but　because　the　duke　hadn't　given　him　any　money　for　anything　else；　and　getting　to　sleep　had　been　difficult　in　any　case。　The　chilly　walls　had　brought　back　too　many　memories。　Besides；　if　he　listened　hard　he　could　hear　the　muted　sobs　and　occasional　whimpers　from　the　students'　dormitories；　as　they　contemplated　with　horror　the　life　that　lay　ahead　of　them。
　He　punched　the　rock…hard　pillow；　and　sank　into　a　fitful　sleep。　Perchance　to　dream。
　'Slab　and　grue；　yes。　But　it　doesn　't　say　how　slab　and　grue。'
　'Goodie　Whemper　remended　testing　a　bit　in　a　cup　of　cold　water；　like　toffee。'
　'How　inconvenient　that　we　didn't　think　to　bring　one；　Magrat。'
　'I　think　we　should　begettingon；　Esme。　The　night's　nearly　gone。'
　'Just　don't　blame　me　if　it　doesn't　work　properly；　that's　all。
　Lessee　。　。　。　〃Baboon　hair　and　。　。　。〃　Who's　got　the　baboon　hair？　Oh；　thank　you；　Gytha；　though　it　looks　more　like　cat　hair　to　me；　but　never　mind。　〃Baboon　hair　and　mandrake　root〃；　and　if　that's　real　mandrake　I'm　very　surprised；　〃carrot　juice　and　tongue　of　boot〃；　I　see；　a　little　humour；　I　suppose　。　。　。'
　'Please　hurry！'
　'All　right；　all　right。　〃Owl　hoot　and　glow…worm　glimmer。　Boil　…　and　then　allow　to　simmer。〃　'
　'You　know；　Esme；　this　doesn't　taste　half　bad。'
　'You　're　not　supposed　to　drink　it；　you　daft　doyenne！'
　Tomjon　sat　bolt　upright　in　bed。　That　was　them　again；　the　same　faces；　the　bickering　voices；　distorted　by　tune　and　space。
　Even　after　he　looked　out　of　the　window；　where　fresh　daylight　was　streaming　through　the　city；　he　could　still　hear　the　voices　grumbling　into　the　distance；　like　old　thunder；　fading　away　。　。　。
　'I　for　one　didn't　believe　it　about　the　tongue　of　boot。'
　'It's　still　very　runny。　Do　you　think　we　should　put　some　cornflour　into　it？'
　'It　won't　matter。　Either　he's　on　his　way；　or　he　isn　't。　。　。'
　He　got　up　and　doused　his　face　in　the　washbasin。
　Silence　rolled　in　swathes　from　Hwel's　room。　Tomjon　slipped　on　his　clothes　and　pushed　open　the　door。
　It　looked　as　though　it　had　snowed　indoors；　great　heavy　flakes　that　had　drifted　into　odd　corners　of　the　room。　Hwel　sat　at　his　low　table　in　the　middle　of　the　floor；　his　head　pillowed　on　a　pile　of　paper；　snoring。
　Tomjon　tiptoed　across　the　room　and　piled　up　a　discarded　ball　of　paper　at　random。　He　smoothed　it　out　and　read：
　
　KING：　Now；　I'm　just　going　to　put　the　crown　on　this　bush　here；　and　you　will　tell　me　if　anyone　tries　to　take　it；　won't　you？
　GROUNDLINGS：　Yes！
　KING：　Now　if　I　could　just　find　my　horsey　。　。　。
　（1st　assassin　pops　up　behind　rock。）
　AUDIENCE：　Behind　you！
　（1st　assassin　disappears。）
　KING：　You're　trying　to　play　tricks　on　old　Kingy；　you　naughty　。　。　。
　
　There　was　a　lot　of　crossing　out；　and　a　large　blot。　Tomjon　threw　it　aside　and　selected　another　ball　at　random。
　
　KING：　Is　this　a　duck　knife　dagger　I　see　behind　beside　in　front　of　before　me；　its　beak　handle　pointing　at　me　my　hand？
　1ST　MURDERER：　I'faith；　it　is　not　so。　Oh；　no　it　isn't！
　2ND　MURDERER：　Thou　speakest　truth；　sire。　Oh；　yes　it　is！
　
　Judging　by　the　creases　in　the　paper；　this　one　had　been　thrown　at　the　wall　particularly　hard。　Hwel　had　o