tp.lightfantastic-第19章

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　'Dangerous；　is　he？'　he　ventured。
　'He's　very　old　and　big　and　mean。　We　haven't　seen　him　about　for　years；'　said　Kwartz。
　'Centuries；'　corrected　Beryl。
　'He'll　squash　them　all　flat！'　added　Jasper；　jumping　up　and　down　on　Rincewind's　toes。
　'It　just　happens　sometimes　that　a　really　old　and　big　troll　will　go　off　by　himself　into　the　hills；　and　…　um　…　the　rock　takes　over；　if　you　follow　me。'
　'No？'
　Kwartz　sighed。　'People　sometimes　act　like　animals；　don't　they？　And　sometimes　a　troll　will　start　thinking　like　a　rock；　and　rocks　don't　like　people　much。'
　Breccia；　a　skinny　troll　with　a　sandstone　finish；　rapped　on　Kwartz's　shoulder。
　'Are　we　going　to　follow　them；　then？'　he　said。　'The　legend　says　we　should　help　this　Rincewind　squashy。'
　Kwartz　stood　up；　thought　for　a　moment；　then　picked　Rincewind　up　by　the　scruff　of　his　neck　and　with　a　big　gritty　movement　placed　him　on　his　shoulders。
　'We　go；'　he　said　firmly。　'If　we　meet　Old　Grandad　I'll　try　to　explain　。　。　。'
　

　Two　miles　away　a　string　of　horses　trotted　through　the　night。　Three　of　them　carried　captives；　expertly　gagged　and　bound。　A　fourth　pulled　a　rough　travois　on　which　the　Luggage　lay　trussed　and　netted　and　silent。
　Herrena　softly　called　the　column　to　a　halt　and　beckoned　one　of　her　men　to　her。
　'Are　you　quite　sure？'　she　said。　'I　can't　hear　anything。'
　'I　saw　troll　shapes；'　he　said　flatly。
　She　looked　around。　The　trees　had　thinned　out　here；　there　was　a　lot　of　scree；　and　ahead　of　them　the　track　led　towards　a　bald；　rocky　hill　that　looked　especially　unpleasant　by　red　starlight。
　She　was　worried　about　that　track。　It　was　extremely　old；　but　something　had　made　it；　and　trolls　took　a　lot　of　killing。
　She　sighed。　Suddenly　it　looked　as　though　that　secretarial　career　was　not　such　a　bad　option；　at　that。
　Not　for　the　first　time　she　reflected　that　there　were　many　drawbacks　to　being　a　swordswoman；　not　least　of　which　was　that　men　didn't　take　you　seriously　until　you'd　actually　killed　them；　by　which　time　it　didn't　really　matter　anyway。　Then　there　was　all　the　leather；　which　brought　her　out　in　a　rash　but　seemed　to　be　unbreakably　traditional。　And　then　there　was　the　ale。　It　was　all　right　for　the　likes　of　Hrun　the　Barbarian　or　Cimbar　the　Assassin　to　carouse　all　night　in　low　bars；　but　Herrena　drew　the　line　at　it　unless　they　sold　proper　drinks　in　small　glasses；　preferably　with　a　cherry　in。　As　for　the　toilet　facilities　。　。　。
　But　she　was　too　big　to　be　a　thief；　too　honest　to　be　an　assassin；　too　intelligent　to　be　a　wife；　and　too　proud　to　enter　the　only　other　female　profession　generally　available。
　So　she'd　bee　a　swordswoman　and　had　been　a　good　one；　amassing　a　modest　fortune　that　she　was　carefully　husbanding　for　a　future　that　she　hadn't　quite　worked　out　yet　but　which　would　certainly　include　a　bidet　if　she　had　anything　to　say　about　it。
　There　was　a　distant　sound　of　splintering　timber。　Trolls　had　never　seen　the　point　of　walking　around　trees。
　She　looked　up　at　the　hill　again。　Two　arms　of　high　ground　swept　away　to　right　and　left；　and　up　ahead　was　a　large　outcrop　with　…　she　squinted　…　some　caves　in　it？
　Troll　caves。　But　maybe　a　better　option　than　blundering　around　at　night。　And　e　sunup；　there'd　be　no　problem。
　She　leaned　across　to　Gancia；　leader　of　the　gang　of　Morpork　mercenaries。　She　wasn't　very　happy　about　him。　It　was　true　that　he　had　the　muscles　of　an　ox　and　the　tamina　of　an　ox；　the　trouble　was　that　he　seemed　to　have　the　brains　of　an　ox。　And　the　viciousness　of　a　ferret。　Like　most　of　the　lads　in　downtown　Morpork　he'd　have　cheerfully　sold　his　granny　for　glue；　and　probably　had。
　'We'll　head　for　the　caves　and　light　a　big　fire　in　the　entrance；'　she　said。　Trolls　don't　like　fire。'
　He　gave　her　a　look　which　suggested　he　had　his　own　ideas　about　who　should　be　giving　the　orders；　but　his　lips　said；　'You're　the　boss。'
　'Right。'
　Herrena　looked　back　at　the　three　captives。　That　was　the　box　all　right　…　Trymon's　description　had　been　absolutely　accurate。　But　neither　of　the　men　looked　like　a　wizard。　Not　even　a　failed　wizard。
　

　'Oh；　dear；'　said　Kwartz。
　The　trolls　halted。　The　night　closed　in　like　velvet。　An　owl　hooted　eerily　…　at　least　Rincewind　assumed　it　was　an　owl；　he　was　a　little　hazy　on　ornithology。　Perhaps　a　nightingale　hooted；　unless　it　was　a　thrush。　A　bat　flittered　overhead。　He　was　quite　confident　about　that。
　He　was　also　very　tired　and　quite　bruised。
　'Why　oh　dear？'　he　said。
　He　peered　into　the　gloom。　There　was　a　distant　speck　in　the　hills　that　might　have　been　a　fire。
　'Oh；'　he　said。　'You　don't　like　fires；　do　you？'
　Kwartz　nodded。　'It　destroys　the　superconductivity　of　our　brains；'　he　said；　'but　a　fire　that　small　wouldn't　have　much　effect　on　Old　Grandad。'
　Rincewind　looked　around　cautiously；　listening　for　the　sound　of　a　rogue　troll。　He'd　seen　what　normal　trolls　could　do　to　a　forest。　They　weren't　naturally　destructive；　they　just　treated　organic　matter　as　a　sort　of　inconvenient　fog。
　'Let's　hope　he　doesn't　find　it；　then；'　he　said　fervently。
　Kwartz　sighed。　'Not　much　chance　of　that；'　he　said。　They've　lit　it　in　his　mouth。'
　

　'It'sh　a　judgeshment　on　me！'　moaned　Cohen。　He　tugged　ineffectually　at　his　bonds。
　Twoflower　peered　at　him　muzzily。　Gancia's　slingshot　had　raised　quite　a　lump　on　the　back　of　his　head　and　he　was　a　little　uncertain　about　things；　starting　with　his　name　and　working　upwards。
　'I　should　have　been　lisshening　out；'　said　Cohen。　'I　should　have　been　paying　attenshion　and　not　being　shwayed　by　all　this　talk　about　your　wosshnarnes；　your　din…chewers。　I　mussht　be　getting　shoft。'
　He　levered　himself　up　by　his　elbows。　Herrena　and　the　rest　of　the　gang　were　standing　around　the　fire　in　the　cave　mouth。　The　Luggage　was　still　and　silent　under　its　net　in　a　corner。
　'There's　something　funny　about　this　cave；'　said　Bethan。
　'What？'　said　Cohen。
　'Well；　look　at　it。　Have　you　ever　seen　rocks　like　those　before？'
　Cohen　had　to　agree　that　the　semi…circle　of　stones　around　the　cave　entrance　were　unusual；　each　one　was　higher　than　a　man；　and　heavily　worn；　and　surprisingly　shiny。　There　was　a　matching　semi…circle　on　the　ceiling。　The　whole　effect　was　that　of　a　stone　puter　built　by　a　druid　with　a　vague　idea　of　geometry　and　no　sense　of　gravity。
　'Look　at　the　walls；　too。'
　Cohen　squinted　at　the　wall　next　to　him。　There　were　veins　of　red　crystal　in　it。　He　couldn't　be　quite　certain；　but　it　was　almost　as　if　little　points　of　light　kept　flashing　on　and　off　deep　within　the　rock　itself。
　It　was　also　extremely　drafty。　A　steady　breeze　blew　out　of　the　black　depths　of　the　cave。
　'I'm　sure　it　was　blowing　the　other　way　when　we　came　in；'　whispered　Bethan。　'What　do　you　think；　Twoflower？'
　'Well；　I'm　not　a　cave　expert；'　he　said；　'but　I　was　just　thinking；　that's　a　very　interesting　stalag…thingy　hanging　from　the　ceiling　up　there。　Sort　of　bulbous；　isn't　it？'
　They　looked　at　it。
　'I　can't　quite　put　my　finger　on　why；'　said　Twoflower；　'but　I　think　it　might　be　a　rather　good　idea　to　get　out　of　here。'
　'Oh　yesh；'　said　Cohen　sarcastically；　'I　shupposhe　we'd　jusht　better　ashk　theesh　people　to　untie　ush　and　let　us　go；　eh？'
　Cohen　hadn't　spent　much　time　in　Twoflower's　pany；　otherwise　he　would　not　have　been　surprised　when　the　little　man　nodded　brightly　and　said；　in　the　loud；　slow　and　careful　voice　he　employed　as　an　alternative　to　actually　speaking　other　people's　languages：　'Excuse　me？　Could　you　please　untie　us　and　let　us　go？　It's　rather　damp　and　drafty　here。　Sorry。'
　Bethan　looked　sidelong　at　Cohen。
　'Was　he　supposed　to　say　that？'
　'It'sh　novel；　I'll　grant　you。'
　And；　indeed；　three　people　detached　themselves　from　the　group　around　the　fire　and　came　towards　them。　They　did　not　look　as　if　they　intended　to　untie　anyone。　The　two　men；　in　fact；　looked　the　sort　of　people　who；　when　they　see　other　people　tied　up；　start　playing　around　with　knives　and　making　greasy　suggestions　and　leering　a　lot。
　Herrena　introduced　herself　by　drawing　her　sword　and　pointing　it　at　Twoflower's　heart。
　'Which　one　of　you　is　Rincewind　the　wizard？'　she　said。　There　were　four　horses。　Is　he　here？'
　'Um；　I　don't　know　where　he　is；'　said　Twoflower。　'He　was　looking　for　some　onions。'
　'Then　you　are　his　friends　and　he　will　e　looking　for　you；'　said　Herrena。　She　glanced　at　Cohen　and　Bethan；　then　looked　closely　at　the　Luggage。
　Trymon　had　been　emphatic　that　they　shouldn't　touch　the　Luggage。　Curiosity　may　have　killed　the　cat；　but　Herrena's　curiosity　could　have　massacred　a　pride　of　lions。
　She　slit　the　netting　and　grasped　the　lid　of　the　box。
　Twoflower　winced。
　'Locked；'　she　said　eventually。　'Where　is　the　key；　fat　one？'
　'It　…　it　hasn't　got　a　key；'　said　Twoflower。
　'There　is　a　keyhole；'　she　pointed　out。
　'Well；　yes；　but　if　it　wants　to　stay　locked；　it　stays　locked；'　said　Twoflower　unfortably。
　Herrena　was　aware　of　Gancia's　grin。　She　snarled。
　'I　want　it　open；'　she　said。　'Gancia；　see　to　it。'　She　strode　back　to　the　fire。
　Gancia　drew　a　long　thin　knife　and　leaned　down　close　to　Twoflower's　face。
　'She　wants　it　open；'　he　said。　He　looked　up　at　the　other　man　and　grinned。
　'She　wants　it　open；　Weems。'
　'Yah。'
　Gancia　waved　the　knife　slowly　in　front　of　Twoflower's　face。
　'Look；'　said　Twoflower　patiently；　'I　don't　think　you　understand。　No…one　can　open　the　Luggage　if　it's　feeling　in　a　locked　mood。'
　'Oh　yes；　I　forgot；'　said　Gancia　thoughtfully。　'Of　course；　it's　a　magic　box；　isn't　that　right？　With　little　legs；　they　say。　I　say；　Weems；　any　legs　your　side？　No？'
　He　held　his　knife　to　Twoflower's　throat。
　'I'm　really　upset　about　that；'　he　said。　'So's　Weems。　He　doesn't　say　much　but　what　he　does　is；　he　tears　bits　off　people。　So　open　…　the　…　box！'
　He　turned　and　planted　a　kick　on　the　side　of　the　box；　leaving　a　nasty　gash　in　the　wood。
　There　was　a　tiny　little　click。
　Gancia　grinned。　The　lid　swung　up　slowly；　ponderously。　The　distant　firelight　gleamed　off　gold　…　lots　of　gold；　in　plate；　chain；　and　coin；　heavy　and　glistening　in　the　flickering　shadows。
　'All　right；'　said　Gancia　softly。
　He　looked　back　at　the　unheeding　men　around　the　fire；　who　seemed　to　be　shouting　at　someone　outside　the　cave。　Then　he　looked　speculatively　at　Weems。　His　lips　moved　soundlessly　with　the　unaccustomed　effort　of　mental　arithmetic。
　He　looked　down　at　his　knife。
　Then　the　floor　moved。
　

　'I　heard　someone；'　said　one　of　the　men。　'Down　there。　Among　the　…　uh　…　rocks。'
　Rincewind's　voice　floated　up　out　of　the　darkness。
　'I　say；'　he　said。
　'Well？'　said　Herrena。
　'You're　in　great　danger！'　shouted　Rincewind。　'You　must　put　the　fire　out！'
　'No；　no；'　said　Herrena。　'You've　got　it　wrong；　you're　in　great　danger。　And　the　fire　stays。'
　'There's　this　big　old　troll　…'
　'Everyone　knows　trolls　keep　away　from　fire；'　said　Herrena。　She　nodded。　A　couple　of　men　drew　their　swords　and　slipped　out　into　the　darkness。
　'Absolutely　true！'　shouted　Rincewind　desperately。　'Only　this　specific　troll　can't；　you　see。'
　'Can't？'　Herrena　hesitated。　Something　of　the　terror　in　Rincewind's　voice　hit　her。
　'Yes；　because；　you　see；　you've　lit　it　on　his　tongue。'
　Then　the　floor　moved。
　

　Old　Grandad　awoke　very　slowly　from　his　centuries…old　slumber。　He　nearly　didn't　awake　at　all；　in　fact　a　few　decades　later　none　of　this　could　have　happened。　When　a　troll　gets　old　and　starts　to　think　seriously　about　the　universe　it　normally　finds　a　quiet　spot　an