tp.lightfantastic-第8章

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e　seen　Skelde；　spirit　of　the　smoke；　and　they　are　called　sorcerers。　A　few　have　been　privileged　to　see　Umcherrel；　the　soul　of　the　forest；　and　they　are　known　as　spirit　masters。　But　none　have　seen　a　box　with　hundreds　of　legs　that　looked　at　them　without　eyes；　and　they　are　known　as　idio…'
　The　interruption　was　caused　by　a　sudden　screaming　noise　and　a　flurry　of　snow　and　sparks　that　blew　the　fire　across　the　dark　hut；　there　was　a　brief　blurred　vision　and　then　the　opposite　wall　was　blasted　aside　and　the　apparition　vanished。
　There　was　a　long　silence。　Then　a　slightly　shorter　silence。　Then　the　old　shaman　said　carefully；　'You　didn't　just　see　two　men　go　through　upside　down　on　a　broomstick；　shouting　and　screaming　at　each　other；　did　you？'
　The　boy　looked　at　him　levelly。　'Certainly　not；'　he　said。
　The　old　man　heaved　a　sigh　of　relief。　Thank　goodness　for　that；'　he　said。　'Neither　did　I。'
　

　The　cottage　was　in　turmoil；　because　not　only　did　the　wizards　want　to　follow　the　broomstick；　they　also　wanted　to　prevent　each　other　from　doing　so；　and　this　led　to　several　regrettable　incidents。The　most　spectacular；　and　certainly　the　most　tragic；　happened　when　one　Seer　attempted　to　use　his　seven　league　boots　without　the　proper　sequence　of　spells　and　preparations。　Seven　league　boots；　as　has　already　been　intimated；　are　a　tricksy　form　of　magic　at　best；　and　he　remembered　too　late　that　the　utmost　caution　must　be　taken　in　using　a　means　of　transport　which；　when　all　is　said　and　done；　relies　for　its　effectiveness　on　trying　to　put　one　foot　twenty…one　miles　in　front　of　the　other。
　

　The　first　snowstorms　of　winter　were　raging；　and　in　fact　there　was　a　suspiciously　heavy　covering　of　cloud　over　most　of　the　Disc。　And　yet；　from　far　above　and　by　the　silver　light　of　the　discworld's　tiny　moon；　it　presented　one　of　the　most　beautiful　sights　in　the　multiverse。
　Great　streamers　of　cloud；　hundreds　of　miles　along；　swirled　from　the　waterfall　at　the　Rim　to　the　mountains　of　the　Hub。　In　the　cold　crystal　silence　the　huge　white　spiral　glittered　frostily　under　the　stars；　imperceptibly　turning；　very　much　as　though　God　had　stirred　His　coffee　and　then　poured　the　cream　in。
　Nothing　disturbed　the　glowing　scene；　which　…
　Something　small　and　distant　broke　through　the　cloud　layer；　trailing　shreds　of　vapour。　In　the　stratospheric　calm　the　sounds　of　bickering　came　sharp　and　clear。
　'You　said　you　could　fly　one　of　these　things！'
　'No　I　didn't；　I　just　said　you　couldn't！'
　'But　I've　never　been　on　one　before！'
　'What　a　coincidence！'
　'Anyway；　you　said…　look　at　the　sky！'
　'No　I　didn't！'
　'What's　happened　to　the　stars？'
　And　so　it　was　that　Rincewind　and　Twoflower　became　the　first　two　people　on　the　Disc　to　see　what　the　future　held。
　A　thousand　miles　behind　them　the　Hub　mountain　of　Cori　Celesti　stabbed　the　sky　and　cast　a　knife…bright　shadow　across　the　broiling　clouds；　so　that　Gods　ought　to　have　noticed　too　…　but　the　Gods　don't　normally　look　at　the　sky　and　in　any　case　were　engaged　in　litigation　with　the　Ice　Giants；　who　had　refused　to　turn　their　radio　down。
　Rimwards；　in　the　direction　of　Great　A'Tuin's　travel；　the　sky　had　been　swept　of　stars。
　In　that　circle　of　blackness　there　was　just　one　star；　a　red　and　baleful　star；　a　star　like　the　glitter　in　the　eyesocket　of　a　rabid　mink。　It　was　small　and　horrible　and　unpromising。　And　the　Disc　was　being　carried　straight　towards　it。
　Rincewind　knew　precisely　what　to　do　in　these　circumstances。　He　screamed　and　pointed　the　broomstick　straight　down。
　

　Galder　Weatherwax　stood　in　the　centre　of　the　octogram　and　raised　his　hands。
　'Urshalo；　dileptor；　c'hula；　do　my　bidding！'
　A　small　mist　formed　over　his　head。　He　glanced　sideways　at　Trymon；　who　was　sulking　at　the　edge　of　the　magic　circle。
　'This　next　bit's　quite　impressive；'　he　said。　'Watch。　Kot…b'hai！　Kot…sham！　To　me；　o　spirits　of　small　isolated　rocks　and　worried　mice　not　less　than　three　inches　long！'
　'What？'　said　Trymon。
　That　bit　took　quite　a　lot　of　research；'　agreed　Galder；　especially　the　mice。　Anyway；　where　was　I？　Oh；　yes　。　。　。'
　He　raised　his　arms　again。　Trymon　watched　him；　and　licked　his　lips　distractedly。　The　old　fool　was　really　concentrating；　bending　his　mind　entirely　to　the　Spell　and　hardly　paying　any　attention　to　Trymon。
　Words　of　power　rolled　around　the　room；　bouncing　off　the　walls　and　scuttling　out　of　sight　behind　shelves　and　jars。　Trymon　hesitated。
　Galder　shut　his　eyes　momentarily；　his　face　a　mask　of　ecstacy　as　he　mouthed　the　final　word。
　Trymon　tensed；　his　fingers　curling　around　the　knife　again。　And　Galder　opened　one　eye；　nodded　at　him　and　sent　a　sideways　blast　of　power　that　picked　the　younger　man　up　and　sent　him　sprawling　against　the　wall。
　Galder　winked　at　him　and　raised　his　arms　again。
　'To　me；　o　spirits　of…'
　There　was　a　thunderclap；　an　implosion　of　light　and　a　moment　of　plete　physical　uncertainty　during　which　even　the　walls　seemed　to　turn　in　on　themselves。　Trymon　heard　a　sharp　intake　of　breath　and　then　a　dull；　solid　thump。
　The　room　was　suddenly　silent。
　After　a　few　minutes　Trymon　crawled　out　from　behind　a　chair　and　dusted　himself　off。　He　whistled　a　few　bars　of　nothing　much　and　turned　towards　the　door　with　exaggerated　care；　looking　at　the　ceiling　as　if　he　had　never　seen　it　before。　He　moved　in　a　way　that　suggested　he　was　attempting　the　world　speed　record　for　the　nonchalant　walk。
　The　Luggage　squatted　in　the　centre　of　the　circle　and　opened　its　lid。
　Trymon　stopped。　He　turned　very；　very　carefully；　dreading　what　he　might　see。
　The　Luggage　seemed　to　contain　some　clean　laundry；　smelling　slightly　of　lavender。　Somehow　it　was　quite　the　most　terrifying　thing　the　wizard　had　ever　seen。
　'Well；　er；'　he　said。　'You；　um；　wouldn't　have　seen　another　wizard　around　here；　by　any　chance？'
　The　Luggage　contrived　to　look　more　menacing。
　'Oh；'　said　Trymon。　'Well；　fine。　It　doesn't　matter。'
　He　pulled　vaguely　at　the　hem　of　his　robe　and　took　a　brief　interest　in　the　detail　of　its　stitching。　When　he　looked　up　the　horrible　box　was　still　there。
　'Goodbye；'　he　said；　and　ran。　He　managed　to　get　through　the　door　just　in　time。
　

　'Rincewind？'
　Rincewind　opened　his　eyes。　Not　that　it　helped　much。　It　just　meant　that　instead　of　seeing　nothing　but　blackness　he　saw　nothing　but　whiteness　which；　surprisingly；　was　worse。
　'Are　you　all　right？'
　'No。'
　'Ah。'
　Rincewind　sat　up。　He　appeared　to　be　on　a　rock　speckled　with　snow；　but　it　didn't　seem　to　be　everything　a　rock　ought　to　be。　For　example；　it　shouldn't　be　moving。
　Snow　blew　around　him。　Twoflower　was　a　few　feet　away；　a　look　of　genuine　concern　on　his　face。
　Rincewind　groaned。　His　bones　were　very　angry　at　the　treatment　they　had　recently　received　and　were　queuing　up　to　plain。
　'What　now？'　he　said。
　You　know　when　we　were　flying　and　I　was　worried　we　might　hit　something　in　the　storm　and　you　said　the　only　thing　we　could　possibly　hit　at　this　height　was　a　cloud　stuffed　with　rocks？'
　'Well？'
　'How　did　you　know？'
　Rincewind　looked　around；　but　for　all　the　variety　and　interest　in　the　scene　around　him　they　might　as　well　have　been　in　the　inside　of　a　pingpong　ball。
　The　rock　underneath　was　…　well；　rocking。　He　ran　his　hands　over　it；　and　felt　the　scoring　of　chisels。　When　he　put　an　ear　to　the　cold　wet　stone　he　fancied　he　could　hear　a　dull；　slow　thumping；　like　a　heartbeat。　He　crawled　forward　until　he　came　to　an　edge；　and　peered　very　cautiously　over　it。
　At　that　moment　the　rock　must　have　been　passing　over　a　break　in　the　clouds；　because　he　caught　a　dim　but　horribly　distant　view　of　jagged…edged　mountain　peaks。
　They　were　a　long　way　down。
　He　gurgled　incoherently　and　inched　his　way　backwards。
　'This　is　ridiculous；'　he　told　Twoflower。　'Rocks　don't　fly。　They're　noted　for　not　doing　it。'
　'Maybe　they　would　if　they　could；'　said　Twoflower。　'Perhaps　this　one　just　found　out　how。'
　'Let's　just　hope　it　doesn't　forget　again；'　said　Rincewind。　He　huddled　up　in　his　soaking　robe　and　looked　glumly　at　the　cloud　around　him。　He　supposed　there　were　some　people　somewhere　who　had　some　control　over　their　lives；　they　got　up　in　the　mornings；　and　went　to　bed　at　night　in　the　reasonable　certainty　of　not　falling　over　the　edge　of　the　world　or　being　attacked　by　lunatics　or　waking　up　on　a　rock　with　ideas　above　its　station。　He　dimly　remembered　leading　a　life　like　that　once。
　Rincewind　sniffed。　This　rock　smelt　of　frying。　The　smell　seemed　to　be　ing　from　up　ahead；　and　appealed　straight　to　his　stomach。
　'Can　you　smell　anything？'　he　said。
　'I　think　it's　bacon；'　said　Twoflower。
　'I　hope　it's　bacon；'　said　Rincewind；　'because　I'm　going　to　eat　it。'　He　stood　up　on　the　trembling　stone　and　tottered　forward　into　the　clouds；　peering　through　the　wet　gloom。
　At　the　front　or　leading　edge　of　the　rock　a　small　druid　was　sitting　crosslegged　in　front　of　a　small　fire。　A　square　of　oilskin　was　tied　across　his　head　and　knotted　under　his　chin。　He　was　poking　at　a　pan　of　bacon　with　an　ornamental　sickle。
　'Um；'　said　Rincewind。　The　druid　looked　up；　and　dropped　the　pan　into　the　fire。　He　leapt　to　his　feet　and　gripped　the　sickle　aggressively；　or　at　least　as　aggressively　as　anyone　can　look　in　a　long　wet　white　nightshirt　and　a　dripping　headscarf。
　'I　warn　you；　I　shall　deal　harshly　with　hijackers；'　he　said；　and　sneezed　violently。
　'We'll　help；'　said　Rincewind；　looking　longingly　at　the　burning　bacon。　This　seemed　to　puzzle　the　druid　who；　to　Rincewind's　mild　surprise；　was　quite　young；　he　supposed　here　had　to　be　such　things　as　young　druids；　theoretically；　it　was　just　that　he　had　never　imagined　them。
　'You're　not　trying　to　steal　the　rock？'　said　the　druid；　lowering　the　sickle　a　fraction。
　'I　didn't　even　know　you　could　steal　rocks；'　said　Rincewind　wearily。
　'Excuse　me；'　said　Twoflower　politely；　'I　think　your　breakfast　is　on　fire。'
　The　druid　glanced　down　and　flailed　ineffectually　at　the　flames。　Rincewind　hurried　forward　to　help；　there　was　a　fair　amount　of　smoke；　ash　and　confusion；　and　the　shared　triumph　of　actually　rescuing　a　few　pieces　of　rather　charred　bacon　did　more　good　than　a　whole　book　on　diplomacy。
　'How　did　you　get　here；　actually？'　said　the　druid。　'We're　five　hundred　feet　up；　unless　I've　got　the　runes　wrong　again。'
　Rincewind　tried　not　to　think　about　height。　'We　sort　of　dropped　in　as　we　were　passing；'　he　said。
　'On　our　way　to　the　ground；'　Twoflower　added。
　'Only　your　rock　broke　our　fall；'　said　Rincewind。　His　back　plained。　Thanks；'　he　added。
　'I　thought　we'd　run　into　some　turbulence　a　while　back；'　said　the　druid；　whose　name　turned　out　to　be　Belafon。　That　must　have　been　you。'　He　shivered。　'It　must　be　morning　by　now；'　he　said。　'Sod　the　rules；　I'm　taking　us　up。　Hang　on。'
　'What　to？'　said　Rincewind。
　'Well；　just　indicate　a　general　unwillingness　to　fall　off；'　said　Belafon。　He　took　a　large　iron　pendulum　out　of　his　robe　and　swung　it　in　a　series　of　baffling　sweeps　over　the　fire。
　Clouds　whipped　around　them；　there　was　a　horrible　feeling　of　heaviness；　and　suddenly　the　rock　burst　into　sunlight。
　It　levelled　off　a　few　feet　above　the　clouds；　in　a　cold　but　bright　blue　sky。　The　clouds　that　had　seemed　chillingly　distant　last　night　and　horribly　clammy　this　morning　were　now　a　fleecy　white　carpet；　stretching　away　in　all　directions；　a　few　mountain　peaks　stood　out　like　islands。　Behind　the　rock　the　wind　of　its　passage　sculpted　the　clouds　into　transient　whirls。　Th