tp.lightfantastic-第12章

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　By　the　light　of　the　torches　he　saw　that　it　was　a　very　old　man；　the　skinny　variety　that　generally　gets　called　'spry'；　with　a　totally　bald　head；　a　beard　almost　down　to　his　knees；　and　a　pair　of　matchstick　legs　on　which　varicose　veins　had　traced　the　street　map　of　quite　a　large　city。　Despite　the　snow　he　wore　nothing　more　than　a　studded　leather　holdall　and　a　pair　of　boots　that　could　have　easily　acmodated　a　second　pair　of　feet。
　The　two　druids　closest　to　him　exchanged　glances　and　hefted　their　sickles。　There　was　a　brief　blur　and　they　collapsed　into　tight　balls　of　agony；　making　rattling　noises。　In　the　excitement　that　followed　Rincewind　sidled　along　towards　the　altar　stone；　holding　his　knife　gingerly　so　as　not　to　attract　any　unwele　ment。　In　fact　no…one　was　paying　a　great　deal　of　attention　to　him；　the　druids　that　hadn't　fled　the　circle；　generally　the　younger　and　more　muscular　ones；　had　congregated　around　the　old　man　n　order　to　discuss　the　whole　subject　of　sacrilege　as　it　pertained　to　stone　circles；　but　judging　by　the　cackling　and　sounds　of　gristle　he　was　carrying　the　debate。
　Twoflower　was　watching　the　fight　with　interest。　Rincewind　grabbed　him　by　the　shoulder。
　'Let's　go；'　he　said。
　'Shouldn't　we　help？'
　'I'm　sure　we'd　only　get　in　the　way；'　said　Rincewind　hurriedly。　'You　know　what　it's　like　to　have　people　looking　over　your　shoulder　when　you're　busy。'
　'At　least　we　must　rescue　the　young　lady；'　said　Twoflower　firmly。
　'All　right；　but　get　a　move　on！'
　Twoflower　took　the　knife　and　hurried　up　to　the　altar　stone。　After　several　inept　slashes　he　managed　to　cut　the　ropes　that　bound　the　girl；　who　sat　up　and　burst　into　tears。
　'It's　all　right…'　he　began。
　'It　bloody　well　isn't！'　she　snapped；　glaring　at　him　through　two　red…rimmed　eyes。　Why　do　people　always　go　and　spoil　things？'　She　blew　her　nose　resentfully　on　the　edge　of　her　robe。
　Twoflower　looked　up　at　Rincewind　in　embarrassment。
　'Um；'　I　don't　think　you　quite　understand；'　he　said。　'I　mean；　we　just　saved　you　from　absolutely　certain　death。'
　'It's　not　easy　around　here；'　she　said。　'I　mean；　keeping　yourself…'　she　blushed；　and　twisted　the　hem　of　her　robe　wretchedly。　'I　mean；　staying　。　。　。　not　letting　yourself　be　。　。　。　not　losing　your　qualifications　。　。　。'
　'Qualifications？　said　Twoflower；　earning　the　Rincewind　Cup　for　the　slowest　person　on　the　uptake　in　the　entire　multiverse。　The　girl's　eyes　narrowed。
　'I　could　have　been　up　there　with　the　Moon　Goddess　by　now；　drinking　mead　out　of　a　silver　bowl；'　she　said　petulantly。　'Eight　years　of　staying　home　on　Saturday　nights　right　down　the　drain！'
　She　looked　up　at　Rincewind　and　scowled。
　Then　he　sensed　something。　Perhaps　it　was　a　barely　heard　footstep　behind　him；　perhaps　it　was　movement　reflected　n　her　eyes　…　but　he　ducked。
　Something　whistled　through　the　air　where　his　neck　had　been　and　glanced　off　Twoflower's　bald　head。　Rincewind　spun　round　to　see　the　archdruid　readying　his　sickle　for　another　swing　and；　in　the　absence　of　any　hope　of　running　away；　lashed　out　desperately　with　a　foot。
　It　caught　the　druid　squarely　on　the　kneecap。　As　the　man　screamed　and　dropped　his　weapon　there　was　a　nasty　little　fleshy　sound　and　he　fell　forward。　Behind　him　the　little　man　with　the　long　beard　pulled　his　sword　from　the　body；　wiped　it　with　a　handful　of　snow；　and　said；　'My　lumbago　is　giving　me　gyp。　You　can　carry　the　treashure。'
　'Treasure？'　said　Rincewind　weakly。
　'All　the　necklashes　and　shtuff。　All　the　gold　collarsh。　They've　got　lotsh　of　them。　Thatsh　prieshts　for　you；'　said　the　old　man　wetly。　'Nothing　but　torc；　torc；　torc。　Who'she　the　girl？'
　'She　won't　let　us　rescue　her；'　said　Rincewind。　The　girl　looked　at　the　old　man　defiantly　through　her　smudged　eyeshadow。
　'Bugger　that；'　he　said；　and　with　one　movement　picked　her　up；　staggered　a　little；　screamed　at　his　arthritis　and　fell　over。
　After　a　moment　he　said；　from　his　prone　position；　'Don't　just　shtand　there；　you　daft　bitcsh　…　help　me　up。'　Much　to　Rincewind's　amazement；　and　almost　certainly　to　hers　as　well；　she　did　so。
　Rincewind；　meanwhile；　was　trying　to　rouse　Twoflower。　There　was　a　graze　across　his　temple　which　didn't　look　too　deep；　but　the　little　man　was　unconscious　with　a　faintly　worried　smile　plastered　across　his　face。　His　breathing　was　shallow　and　…　strange。
　And　he　felt　light。　Not　simply　underweight；　but　weightless。　The　wizard　might　as　well　have　been　holding　a　shadow。　Rincewind　remembered　that　it　was　said　that　druids　used　strange　and　terrible　poisons。　Of　course；　it　was　often　said；　usually　by　the　same　people；　that　crooks　always　had　close…set　eyes；　lightning　never　struck　twice　in　the　same　lace　and　if　the　gods　had　wanted　men　to　fly　they'd　have　given　them　an　airline　ticket。　But　something　about　Twoflower's　lightness　frightened　Rincewind。　Frightened　him　horribly。
　He　looked　up　at　the　girl。　She　had　the　old　man　slung　over　one　shoulder；　and　gave　Rincewind　an　apologetic　half…smile。　From　somewhere　around　the　small　of　her　back　a　voice　said；　'Got　everything？　Letsh　get　out　of　here　before　they　e　back。'
　Rincewind　tucked　Twoflower　under　one　arm　and　jogged　along　after　them。　It　seemed　the　only　thing　to　do。
　

　The　old　man　had　a　large　white　horse　tethered　to　a　withered　tree　in　a　snow…filled　gully　some　way　from　the　circles。　It　was　sleek；　glossy　and　the　general　effect　of　a　superb　battle　charger　was　only　very　slightly　spoiled　by　the　haemorrhoid　ring　tied　to　the　saddle。
　'Okay；　put　me　down。　There'sh　a　bottle　of　shome　linament　shtuff　in　the　shaddle　bag；　if　you　wouldn't　mind　。　。　。'　Rincewind　propped　Twoflower　as　nicely　as　possible　against　the　tree；　and　by　moonlight　…　and；　he　realised；　by　the　faint　red　light　of　the　menacing　new　star　…　took　the　first　real　look　at　his　rescuer。
　The　man　had　only　one　eye；　the　other　was　covered　by　a　black　patch。　His　thin　body　was　a　network　of　scars　and；　currently；　twanging　white…hot　with　tendonitis。　His　teeth　had　obviously　decided　to　quit　long　ago。
　'Who　are　you？'　he　said。
　'Bethan；'　said　the　girl；　rubbing　a　handful　of　nasty…smelling　green　ointment　into　the　old　man's　back。　She　wore　the　air　of　one　who；　if　asked　to　consider　what　sort　of　events　might　occur　after　being　rescued　from　virgin　sacrifice　by　a　hero　with　a　white　charger；　would　probably　not　have　mentioned　linament；　but　who；　now　linament　was　apparently　what　did　happen　to　you　after　all；　was　determined　to　be　good　at　it。
　'I　meant　him；'　said　Rincewind。
　One　star…bright　eye　looked　up　at　him。
　'Cohen　ish　my　name；　boy。'　Bethan's　hands　stopped　moving。
　'Cohen？'　she　said。　'Cohen　the　Barbarian？'
　'The　very　shame。'
　'Hang　on；　hang　on；'　said　Rincewind。　'Cohen's　a　great　big　chap；　neck　like　a　bull；　got　chest　muscles　like　a　sack　of　footballs。　I　mean；　he's　the　Disc's　greatest　warrior；　a　legend　in　his　own　lifetime。　I　remember　my　grandad　telling　me　he　saw　him　。　。　。　my　grandad　telling　me　he　。　。　。　my　grandad　。　。　。'
　He　faltered　under　the　gimlet　gaze。
　'Oh；'　he　said。　'Oh。　Of　course。　Sorry。'
　'Yesh；'　said　Cohen；　and　sighed。　Thatsh　right；　boy。　I'm　a　lifetime　in　my　own　legend。'
　'Gosh；'　said　Rincewind。　'How　old　are　you；　exactly？'
　'Eighty…sheven。'
　'But　you　were　the　greatest！'　said　Bethan。　'Bards　still　sing　songs　about　you。'
　Cohen　shrugged；　and　gave　a　little　yelp　of　pain。
　'I　never　get　any　royaltiesh；'　he　said。　He　looked　moodily　at　the　snow。　That'sh　the　shaga　of　my　life。　Eighty　yearsh　in　the　bushiness　and　what　have　I　got　to　show　for　it？　Backache；　pilesh；　bad　digeshtion　and　a　hundred　different　recipesh　for　shoop。　Shoop！　I　hate　shoop！'
　Bethan's　forehead　wrinkled。　'Shoop？'
　'Soup；'　explained　Rincewind。
　Yeah；　shoop；'　said　Cohen；　miserably。　'It'sh　my　teeths；　you　shee。　No…one　takes　you　sheriously　when　you've　got　no　teeths；　they　shay　〃Shit　down　by　the　fire；　grandad；　and　have　shome　shoo…〃　Cohen　looked　sharply　at　Rincewind。　That'sh　a　nashty　cough　you　have　there；　boy。'
　Rincewind　looked　away；　unable　to　look　Bethan　in　the　face。　Then　his　heart　sank。　Twoflower　was　still　leaning　against　the　tree；　peacefully　unconscious；　and　looking　as　reproachful　as　was　possible　in　the　circumstances。
　Cohen　appeared　to　remember　him；　too。　He　got　unsteadily　to　his　feet　and　shuffled　over　to　the　tourist。　He　humbed　both　eyes　open；　examined　the　graze；　felt　the　pulse。
　'He'sh　gone；'　he　said。
　'Dead？'　said　Rincewind；　In　the　debating　chamber　of　his　mind　a　dozen　emotions　got　to　their　feet　and　started　shouting。　Relief　was　in　full　spate　when　Shock　cut　in　on　a　point　of　order　and　then　Bewilderment；　Terror　and　Loss　started　a　fight　which　was　ended　only　when　Shame　slunk　in　from　next　door　to　see　what　all　the　row　was　about。
　'No；'　said　Cohen　thoughtfully；　'not　exshactly。　Just　…　gone。'
　'Gone　where？'
　'I　don't　know；'　said　Cohen；　'but　I　think　I　know　shomeone　who　might　have　a　map。'
　

　Far　out　on　the　snowfield　half　a　dozen　pinpoints　of　red　light　glowed　in　the　shadows。
　'He's　not　far　away；'　said　the　leading　wizard；　peering　into　a　small　crystal　sphere。
　There　was　general　mutter　from　the　ranks　behind　him　which　roughly　meant　that　however　far　away　Rincewind　was　he　couldn't　be　further　than　a　nice　hot　bath；　a　good　meal　and　a　warm　bed。
　Then　the　wizard　who　was　tramping　along　in　the　rear　stopped　and　said；　'Listen！'
　They　listened。　There　were　the　subtle　sounds　of　winter　beginning　to　close　its　grip　on　the　land；　the　creak　of　rocks；　the　muted　scuffling　of　small　creatures　in　their　tunnels　under　the　blanket　of　snow。　In　a　distant　forest　a　wolf　howled；　felt　embarrassed　when　no…one　joined　in；　and　stopped。　There　was　the　silver　sleeting　sound　of　moonlight。　There　was　also　the　wheezing　noise　of　half　a　dozen　wizards　trying　to　breathe　quietly。
　'I　can't　hear　a　thing…'　one　began。
　'Ssshh！'
　'All　right；　all　right…'
　Then　they　all　heard　it；　a　tiny　distant　crunching；　like　omething　moving　very　quickly　over　the　snow　crust。
　'Wolves？'　said　a　wizard。　They　all　thought　about　hundreds　of　lean；　hungry　bodies　leaping　through　the　night。
　'N…no；'　said　the　leader。　'It's　too　regular。　Perhaps　it's　a　messenger？'
　It　was　louder　now；　a　crisp　rhythm　like　someone　eating　celery　very　fast。
　'I'll　send　up　a　flare；'　said　the　leader。　He　picked　up　a　handful　of　snow；　rolled　it　into　a　ball；　threw　it　up　into　the　air　and　ignited　it　with　a　stream　of　octarine　fire　from　his　fingertips。　There　was　a　brief；　fierce　blue　glare。
　There　was　silence。　Then　another　wizard　said；　'You　daft　bugger；　I　can't　see　a　thing　now。'
　That　was　the　last　thing　they　heard　before　something　fast；　hard　and　noisy　cannoned　into　them　out　of　the　darkness　and　vanished　into　the　night。
　When　they　dug　one　another　out　of　the　snow　all　they　could　find　was　a　tight　pressed　trail　of　little　footprints。　Hundreds　of　little　footprints；　all　very　close　together　and　heading　across　the　snow　as　straight　as　a　searchlight。
　

　'A　necromancer！'　said　Rincewind。
　The　old　woman　across　the　fire　shrugged　and　pulled　a　pack　of　greasy　cards　from　some　unseen　pocket。
　Despite　the　deep　frost　outside；　the　atmosphere　inside　the　yurt　was　like　a　blacksmith's　armpit　and　the　wizard　was　already　sweating　heavily。　Horse　dung　made　a　good　fuel；　but　the　Horse　People　had　a　lot　to　learn　about　air　conditioning；　starting　with　what　it　meant。
　Bethan　leaned　sideways。
　'What's　neck　romance？'　she　whispered。
　'Necromancy。　Talking　to　the　dead；'　he　explained。
　'Oh；'　she　said；　vaguely　disappointed。
　They　had　dined　on　horse　meat；　horse　cheese；