tp.lightfantastic-第16章

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　There　was　the　sound　of　feet　behind　him。　Rincewind　wheezed　with　effort；　it　sounded　like　the　Luggage；　and　at　the　moment　he　didn't　want　to　meet　the　Luggage；　because　it　might　have　got　the　wrong　idea　about　him　hitting　its　master；　and　generally　the　Luggage　bit　people　it　didn't　like。　Rincewind　had　never　had　the　nerve　to　ask　where　it　was　they　actually　went　when　the　heavy　lid　slammed　shut　on　them；　but　they　certainly　weren't　there　when　it　opened　again。
　In　fact　he　needn't　have　worried。　The　Luggage　overtook　him　easily；　its　little　legs　a　blur　of　movement。　It　seemed　to　Rincewind　to　be　concentrating　very　heavily　on　running；　as　if　it　had　some　inkling　of　what　was　ing　up　behind　it　and　didn't　like　the　idea　at　all。
　Don't　look　back；　he　remembered。　The　view　probably　isn't　very　nice。
　The　Luggage　crashed　through　a　bush　and　vanished。
　A　moment　later　Rincewind　saw　why。　It　had　careened　over　the　edge　of　the　outcrop　and　was　dropping　towards　the　great　hole　underneath；　which　he　could　now　see　was　faintly　red　lit　at　the　bottom。　Stretching　from　Rincewind；　out　over　the　edge　of　the　rocks　and　down　into　the　hole；　were　two　shimmering　blue　lines。
　He　paused　uncertainly；　although　that　isn't　precisely　true　because　he　was　totally　certain　of　several　things；　for　example　that　he　didn't　want　to　jump；　and　that　he　certainly　didn't　want　to　face　whatever　it　was　ing　up　behind　him；　and　that　in　the　spirit　world　Twoflower　was　quite　heavy；　and　that　there　were　worse　things　than　being　dead。
　'Name　two；'　he　muttered；　and　jumped。
　A　few　seconds　later　the　horsemen　arrived　and　didn't　stop　when　they　reached　the　edge　of　the　rock　but　simply　rode　into　the　air　and　reined　their　horses　over　nothingness。
　Death　looked　down。
　THAT　ALWAYS　ANNOYS　ME；　he　said。　I　MIGHT　AS　WELL　INSTALL　A　REVOLVING　DOOR。
　'I　wonder　what　they　wanted！'　said　Pestilence。
　'Search　me；'　said　War。　'Nice　game；　though。'
　'Right；'　agreed　Famine。　'pelling；　I　thought。'
　WE'VE　GOT　TIME　FOR　ANOTHER　FONDLE；　said　Death。
　'Rubber；'　corrected　War。
　RUBBER　WHAT？
　'You　call　them　rubbers；'　said　War。
　RIGHT；　RUBBERS；　said　Death。　He　looked　up　at　the　new　star；　puzzled　as　to　what　it　might　mean。
　I　THINK　WE'VE　GOT　TIME；　he　repeated；　a　trifle　uncertainly。
　

　Mention　has　already　been　made　of　an　attempt　to　inject　a　little　honesty　into　reporting　on　the　Disc；　and　how　poets　and　bards　were　banned　on　pain　of　…　well；　pain　…　from　going　on　about　babbling　brooks　and　rosy…fingered　dawn　and　could　only　say；　for　example；　that　a　face　had　launched　a　thousand　ships　if　they　were　able　to　produce　certified　dockyard　accounts。
　And　therefore；　out　of　a　passing　respect　for　this　tradition；　it　will　not　be　said　of　Rincewind　and　Twoflower　that　they　became　an　ice…blue　sinewave　arcing　through　the　dark　imensions；　or　that　there　was　a　sound　like　the　twanging　of　a　monstrous　tusk；　or　that　their　lives　passed　in　front　of　their　eyes　（Rincewind　had　in　any　case　seen　his　past　life　flash　in　front　of　his　eyes　so　many　times　that　he　could　sleep　through　the　boring　bits）　or　that　the　universe　dropped　on　them　like　a　large　jelly。
　It　will　be　said；　because　experiment　has　proven　it　to　be　true；　that　there　was　a　noise　like　a　wooden　ruler　being　struck　heavily　with　a　C　sharp　tuning　fork；　possibly　B　flat；　and　a　sudden　sensation　of　absolute　stillness。
　This　was　because　they　were　absolutely　still；　and　it　was　absolutely　dark。
　It　occurred　to　Rincewind　that　something　had　gone　wrong。
　Then　he　saw　the　faint　blue　tracery　in　front　of　him。
　He　was　inside　the　Octavo　again。　He　wondered　what　would　happen　if　anyone　opened　the　book；　would　he　and　Twoflower　appear　like　a　colour　plate？
　Probably　not；　he　decided。　The　Octavo　they　were　in　was　something　a　bit　different　from　the　mere　book　chained　to　its　lectern　deep　in　Unseen　University；　which　was　merely　a　three…dimensional　representation　of　a　multidimensional　reality；　and…
　Hold　on；　he　thought。　I　don't　think　like　this。　Who's　thinking　for　me？
　'Rincewind；'　said　a　voice　like　the　rustle　of　old　pages。
　'Who？　Me？'
　'Of　course　you；　you　daft　sod。'
　A　flicker　of　defiance　flared　very　briefly　in　Rincewind's　battered　heart。
　'Have　you　managed　to　recall　how　the　Universe　started　yet？'　he　said　nastily。　'The　Clearing　of　the　Throat；　wasn't　it；　or　the　Drawing　of　the　Breath；　or　the　Scratching　of　the　Head　and　Trying　to　Remember　It；　It　was　On　the　Tip　of　the　Tongue？'
　Another　voice；　dry　as　tinder；　hissed；　'You　would　do　well　to　remember　where　you　are。'　It　should　be　impossible　to　hiss　a　sentence　with　no　sibilants　in　it；　but　the　voice　made　a　very　good　attempt。
　'Remember　where　I　am？　Remember　where　I　am？'　shouted　Rincewind。　'Of　course　I　remember　where　I　am；　I'm　inside　a　bloody　book　talking　to　a　load　of　voices　I　can't　see；　why　do　you　think　I'm　screaming？'
　'I　expect　you're　wondering　why　we　brought　you　here　again；'　said　a　voice　by　his　ear。
　'No。'
　'No？'
　'What　did　he　say？'　said　another　disembodied　voice。
　'He　said　no。'
　'He　really　said　no？'
　'Yes。'
　'Oh。'
　'Why？'
　'This　sort　of　thing　happens　to　me　all　the　time；'　said　Rincewind。　'One　minute　I'm　falling　off　the　world；　then　I'm　inside　a　book；　then　I'm　on　a　flying　rock；　then　I'm　watching　Death　learn　how　to　play　Weir　or　Dam　or　whatever　it　was；　why　should　I　wonder　about　anything？'
　'Well；　we　imagine　you　will　be　wondering　why　we　don't　want　anyone　to　say　us；'　said　the　first　voice；　aware　that　it　was　losing　the　initiative。
　Rincewind　hesitated。　The　thought　had　crossed　his　mind；　only　very　fast　and　looking　nervously　from　side　to　side　in　case　it　got　knocked　over。
　'Why　should　anyone　want　to　say　you？'
　'It's　the　star；'　said　the　spell。　'The　red　star。　Wizards　are　already　looking　for　you；　when　they　find　you　they　want　to　say　all　eight　Spells　together　to　change　the　future。　They　think　the　Disc　is　going　to　collide　with　the　star。'
　Rincewind　thought　about　this。　'Is　it？'
　'Not　exactly；　but　in　a…　what's　that？'
　Rincewind　looked　down。　The　Luggage　padded　out　of　the　darkness。　There　was　a　long　sliver　of　scytheblade　in　its　lid。
　'It's　just　the　Luggage；'　he　said。
　'But　we　didn't　summon　it　here！'
　'No…one　summons　it　anywhere；'　said　Rincewind。　'It　just　turns　up。　Don't　worry　about　it。'
　'Oh。　What　were　we　talking　about？'
　'This　red　star　thing。'
　'Right。　It's　very　important　that　you　…'
　'Hallo？　Hallo？　Anyone　out　there？'
　It　was　a　small　and　squeaky　voice　and　came　from　the　picture　box　still　slung　around　Twoflower's　inert　neck。
　The　picture　imp　opened　his　hatch　and　squinted　up　at　Rincewind。
　'Where's　this；　squire？'　it　said。
　'I'm　not　sure。'
　'We　still　dead？'
　'Maybe。'
　'Well；　let's　hope　we　go　somewhere　where　we　don't　need　too　much　black；　because　I've　run　out。'　The　hatch　slammed　shut。
　Rincewind　had　a　fleeting　vision　of　Twoflower　handing　around　his　pictures　and　saying　things　like　'This　is　me　being　tormented　by　a　million　demons'　and　'This　is　me　with　that　funny　couple　we　met　on　the　freezing　slopes　of　the　Underworld。'　Rincewind　wasn't　certain　about　what　happened　to　you　after　you　really　died；　the　authorities　were　a　little　unclear　on　the　subject；　a　swarthy　sailor　from　the　Rimward　lands　had　said　that　he　was　confident　of　going　to　a　paradise　where　there　was　sherbet　and　houris。　Rincewind　wasn't　certain　what　a　houri　was；　but　after　some　thought　he　came　to　the　conclusion　that　it　was　a　little　liquorice　tube　for　sucking　up　the　sherbet。　Anyway；　sherbet　made　him　sneeze。
　'Now　that　interruption　is　over；'　said　a　dry　voice　firmly；　'perhaps　we　can　get　on。　It　is　most　important　that　you　don't　let　the　wizards　take　the　spell　from　you。　Terrible　things　will　happen　if　all　eight　spells　are　said　too　soon。'
　'I　just　want　to　be　left　in　peace；'　said　Rincewind。
　'Good；　good。　We　knew　we　could　trust　you　from　the　day　you　first　opened　the　Octavo。'
　Rincewind　hesitated。　'Hang　on　a　minute；'　he　said。　'You　want　me　to　run　around　keeping　the　wizards　from　getting　all　the　spells　together？'
　'Exactly。'
　'That's　why　one　of　you　got　into　my　head？'
　'Precisely。'
　'You　totally　ruined　my　life；　you　know　that？'　said　Rincewind　hotly。　'I　could　have　really　made　it　as　a　wizard　if　you　hadn't　decided　to　use　me　as　a　sort　of　portable　spellbook。　I　can't　remember　any　other　spells；　they're　too　frightened　to　stay　in　the　same　head　as　you！'
　'We're　sorry。'
　'I　just　want　to　go　home！　I　want　to　go　back　to　where…'　a　trace　of　moisture　appeared　in　Rincewind's　eye　…　'to　where　there's　cobbles　under　your　feet　and　some　of　the　beer　isn't　too　bad　and　you　can　get　quite　a　good　piece　of　fried　fish　of　an　evening；　with　maybe　a　couple　of　big　green　gherkins；　and　even　an　eel　pie　and　a　dish　of　whelks；　and　there's　always　a　warm　stable　somewhere　to　sleep　in　and　in　the　morning　you　are　always　in　the　same　place　as　you　were　the　night　before　and　there　wasn't　all　this　weather　all　over　the　place。　I　mean；　I　don't　mind　about　the　magic；　I'm　probably　not；　you　know；　the　right　sort　of　material　for　a　wizard；　I　just　want　to　go　home！…'
　'But　you　must…'　one　of　the　spells　began。
　It　was　too　late。　Homesickness；　the　little　elastic　band　in　the　subconscious　that　can　wind　up　a　salmon　and　propel　it　three　thousand　miles　through　strange　seas；　or　send　a　million　lemmings　running　joyfully　back　to　an　ancestral　homeland　which；　owing　to　a　slight　kink　in　the　continental　drift；　isn't　there　any　more　…　homesickness　rose　up　inside　Rincewind　like　a　late…night　prawn　biriani；　flowed　along　the　tenuous　thread　linking　his　tortured　soul　to　his　body；　dug　its　heels　in　and　tugged　。　。　。
　The　spells　were　alone　inside　their　Octavo。
　Alone；　at　any　rate；　apart　from　the　Luggage。
　They　looked　at　it；　not　with　eyes；　but　with　consciousness　as　old　as　the　Discworld　itself。
　'And　you　can　bugger　off　too；'　they　said。
　

　'&mdash　bad。'
　Rincewind　knew　it　was　himself　speaking；　he　recognised　the　voice。　For　a　moment　he　was　looking　out　through　his　eyes　not　in　any　normal　way；　but　as　a　spy　might　peer　through　the　cut…out　eyes　of　a　picture。　Then　he　was　back。
　'You　okay；　Rinshwind？'　said　Cohen。　'You　looked　a　bit　gone　there。'
　'You　did　look　a　bit　white；'　agreed　Bethan。　'Like　someone　had　walked　over　your　grave。'
　'Uh；　yes；　it　was　probably　me；'　he　said。　He　held　up　his　fingers　and　counted　them。　There　appeared　to　be　the　normal　amount。
　'Um；　have　I　moved　at　all？'　he　said。
　'You　just　looked　at　the　fire　as　if　you　had　seen　a　ghost；'　said　Bethan。
　There　was　a　groan　behind　them。　Twoflower　was　sitting　up；　holding　his　head　in　his　hands。
　His　eyes　focused　on　them。　His　lips　moved　soundlessly。
　'That　was　a　really　strange　。　。　。　dream；'　he　said。　'What's　this　place？　Why　am　I　here？'
　'Well；'　said　Cohen；　'shome　shay　the　Creator　of　the　Univershe　took　a　handful　of　clay　and　…'
　'No；　I　mean　here；'　said　Twoflower。　'Is　that　you；　Rincewind？'
　'Yes；'　said　Rincewind；　giving　it　the　benefit　of　the　doubt。
　'There　was　this　。　。　。　a　clock　that　。　。　。　and　these　people　who　。　。　。'　said　Twoflower。　He　shook　his　head。　'Why　does　everything　smell　of　horses？'
　'You've　been　ill；'　said　Rincewind。　'Hallucinating。'
　'Yes　。　。　。　I　suppose　I　was。'　Twoflower　looked　down　at　his　chest。　'But　in　that　case；　why　have　I…'　Rincewind　jumped　to　his　feet。
　'Sorry；　very　close　in　here；　got　to　have　a　breath　of　fresh　air；'　he　said。　He　removed　the　picture　box's　strap　from　Twoflower's　neck；　and　dashed　for　the　tent　flap。
　'I　didn't　notice　that　when　he　came　in；'　said　Bethan。　Cohen　shrugged。
　Rincewind　managed　to　get　a　few　yards