tp.lightfantastic-第9章

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　like　islands。　Behind　the　rock　the　wind　of　its　passage　sculpted　the　clouds　into　transient　whirls。　The　rock…
　It　was　about　thirty　feet　long　and　ten　feet　wide；　and　blueish。
　'What　an　amazing　panorama；'　said　Twoflower；　his　eyes　shining。
　'Um；　what's　keeping　us　up？'　said　Rincewind。
　'Persuasion；'　said　Belafon；　wringing　out　the　hem　of　his　robe。
　'Ah；'　said　Rincewind　sagely。
　'Keeping　them　up　is　easy；'　said　the　druid；　holding　up　a　thumb　and　squinting　down　the　length　of　his　arm　at　a　distant　mountain；　The　hard　part　is　landing。'
　'You　wouldn't　think　so；　would　you？'　said　Twoflower。
　'Persuasion　is　what　keeps　the　whole　universe　together；'　said　Belafon。　'It's　no　good　saying　it's　all　done　by　magic。'
　Rincewind　happened　to　glance　down　through　the　thinning　cloud　to　a　snowy　landscape　a　considerable　distance　below。　He　knew　he　was　in　the　presence　of　a　madman；　but　he　was　used　to　that；　if　listening　to　this　madman　meant　he　stayed　up　here；　he　was　all　ears。
　Belafon　sat　down　with　his　feet　dangling　over　the　edge　of　the　rock。
　'Look；　don't　worry；'　he　said。　'If　you　keep　thinking　the　rock　shouldn't　be　flying　it　might　hear　you　and　bee　persuaded　and　you　will　turn　out　to　be　right；　okay？　It's　obvious　you　aren't　up　to　date　with　modern　thinking。'
　'So　it　would　seem；'　said　Rincewind　weakly。　He　was　trying　not　to　think　about　rocks　on　the　ground。　He　was　trying　to　think　about　rocks　swooping　like　swallows；　bounding　across　landscapes　in　the　sheer　joy　of　levity；　zooming　skywards　in　a…
　He　was　horribly　aware　he　wasn't　very　good　at　it。
　

　The　druids　of　the　Disc　prided　themselves　on　their　forward…looking　approach　to　the　discovery　of　the　mysteries　of　the　Universe。　Of　course；　like　druids　everywhere　they　believed　in　the　essential　unity　of　all　life；　the　healing　ower　of　plants；　the　natural　rhythm　of　the　seasons　and　the　burning　alive　of　anyone　who　didn't　approach　all　this　in　the　right　frame　of　mind；　but　they　had　also　thought　long　and　hard　about　the　very　basis　of　creation　and　had　formulated　the　following　theory：
　The　universe；　they　said；　depended　for　its　operation　on　the　balance　of　four　forces　which　they　identified　as　charm；　persuasion；　uncertainty　and　bloody…mindedness。
　Thus　it　was　that　the　sun　and　moon　orbited　the　disc　because　they　were　persuaded　not　to　fall　down；　but　didn't　actually　fly　away　because　of　uncertainty。　Charm　allowed　trees　to　grow　and　bloody…mindedness　kept　them　up；　and　so　on。
　Some　druids　suggested　that　there　were　certain　flaws　in　this　theory；　but　senior　druids　explained　very　pointedly　that　there　was　indeed　room　for　informed　argument；　the　cut　and　thrust　of　exciting　scientific　debate；　and　basically　it　lay　on　top　of　the　next　solstice　bonfire。
　

　'Ah；　so　you're　an　astronomer？'　said　Twoflower。
　'Oh　no；'　said　Belafon；　as　the　rock　drifted　gently　around　the　curve　of　a　mountain；　I'm　a　puter　hardware　consultant。'
　'What's　a　puter　hardware？'
　'Well；　this　is；'　said　the　druid；　tapping　the　rock　with　a　sandalled　foot。'Part　of　one；　anyway。　It's　a　replacement。　I'm　delivering　it。　They're　having　trouble　with　the　big　circles　up　on　the　Vortex　Plains。　So　they　say；　anyway；　I　wished　I　had　a　bronze　tore　for　every　user　who　didn't　read　the　manual。'　He　shrugged。
　'What　use　is　it；　then；　exactly？'　asked　Rincewind。　Anything　to　keep　his　mind　off　the　drop　below。
　'You　can　use　it　to　…　to　tell　you　what　time　of　year　it　is；'　said　Belafon。
　'Ah。　You　mean　if　it's　covered　in　snow　then　it　must　be　winter？'
　'Yes。　I　mean　no。　I　mean；　supposing　you　wanted　to　know　when　a　particular　star　is　going　to　rise　…'
　'Why？'　said　Twoflower；　radiating　polite　interest。
　'Well；　maybe　you　want　to　know　when　to　plant　your　crops；'　said　Belafon；　sweating　a　little；　'or　maybe…'
　'I'll　lend　you　my　almanac；　if　you　like；'　said　Twoflower。
　'Almanac？'
　'It's　a　book　that　tells　you　what　day　it　is；'　said　Rincewind　wearily。　'It'd　be　right　up　your　leyline。'
　Belafon　stiffened。　'Book？'　he　said。　'Like；　with　paper？'
　'Yes。'
　That　doesn't　sound　very　reliable　to　me；'　said　the　druid　nastily。　'How　can　a　book　know　what　day　it　is？　Paper　can't　count。'
　He　stamped　off　to　the　front　of　the　rock；　causing　it　to　wallow　alarmingly。　Rincewind　swallowed　hard　and　beckoned　Twoflower　closer。
　'Have　you　ever　heard　of　culture　shock？'　he　hissed。
　'What's　that？'
　'It's　what　happens　when　people　spend　five　hundred　years　trying　to　get　a　stone　circle　to　work　properly　and　then　someone　es　up　with　a　little　book　with　a　page　for　every　day　and　little　chatty　bits　saying　things　like　〃Now　is　a　good　time　to　plant　broad　beans〃　and　〃Early　to　rise；　early　to　bed；　makes　a　man　healthy；　wealthy　and　dead；〃　and　do　you　know　what　the　most　important　thing　to　remember　about　culture　shock。'　Rincewind　paused　for　breath；　and　moved　his　lips　silently　trying　to　remember　where　the　sentence　had　got　to；　'is？'　he　concluded。
　'What？'
　'Don't　give　it　to　a　man　flying　a　thousand　ton　rock。'
　

　'Has　it　gone？'
　Trymon　peered　cautiously　over　the　battlements　of　the　Tower　of　Art；　the　great　spire　of　crumbling　masonry　that　loomed　over　Unseen　University。　The　cluster　of　students　nd　instructors　of　magic；　far　below；　nodded。
　'Are　you　sure？'
　The　bursar　cupped　his　hands　and　shouted。
　'It　broke　down　the　hubward　door　and　escaped　an　hour　ago；　sir；'　he　yelled。
　'Wrong；'　said　Trymon。　'It　left；　we　escaped。　Well；　I'll　be　getting　down；　then。　Did　it　get　anyone？'
　The　bursar　swallowed。　He　was　not　a　wizard；　but　a　kind；　good…natured　man　who　should　not　have　had　to　see　the　things　he　had　witnessed　in　the　past　hour。　Of　course；　it　wasn't　unknown　for　small　demons；　coloured　lights　and　various　half…materialised　imaginings　to　wander　around　the　campus；　but　there　had　been　something　about　the　implacable　onslaught　of　the　Luggage　that　had　unnerved　him。　Trying　to　stop　it　would　have　been　like　trying　to　wrestle　a　glacier。
　It　…　it　swallowed　the　Dean　of　Liberal　Studies；　sir；'　he　shouted。
　Trymon　brightened。　'It's　an　ill　wind；'　he　murmured。　He　started　down　the　long　spiral　staircase。　After　a　while　he　smiled；　a　thin；　tight　smile。　The　day　was　definitely　improving。
　There　was　a　lot　of　organising　to　do。　And　if　there　was　something　Trymon　really　liked；　it　was　organising。
　

　The　rock　swooped　across　the　high　plains；　whipping　snow　from　the　drifts　a　mere　few　feet　below。　Belafon　scuttled　about　urgently；　smearing　a　little　mistletoe　ointment　here；　chalking　a　rune　there；　while　Rincewind　cowered　in　terror　and　exhaustion　and　Twoflower　worried　about　his　Luggage。
　'Up　ahead！'　screamed　the　druid　above　the　noise　of　the　slipstream。　'Behold；　the　great　puter　of　the　skies！'
　Rincewind　peered　between　his　fingers。　On　the　distant　skyline　was　an　immense　construction　of　grey　and　black　slabs；　arranged　in　concentric　circles　and　mystic　avenues；　aunt　and　forbidding　against　the　snow。　Surely　men　couldn't　have　moved　those　nascent　mountains　…　surely　a　troop　of　giants　had　been　turned　to　stone　by　some　。　。　。
　'It　looks　like　a　lot　of　rocks；'　said　Twoflower。
　Belafon　hesitated　in　mid…gesture。
　'What？'　he　said。
　'It's　very　nice；'　added　the　tourist　hurriedly。　He　sought　for　a　word。　'Ethnic；'　he　decided。
　The　druid　stiffened。　'Nice？'　he　said。　'A　triumph　of　the　silicon　chunk；　a　miracle　of　modern　masonic　technology　…　nice？'
　'Oh；　yes；'　said　Twoflower；　to　whom　sarcasm　was　merely　a　seven　letter　word　beginning　with　S。
　'What　does　ethnic　mean？'　said　the　druid。
　'It　means　terribly　impressive；'　said　Rincewind　hurriedly；　'and　we　seem　to　be　in　danger　of　landing；　if　you　don't　mind…'
　Belafon　turned　around；　only　slightly　mollified。　He　raised　his　arms　wide　and　shouted　a　series　of　untranslatable　words；　ending　with　'nice！'　in　a　hurt　whisper。
　The　rock　slowed；　drifted　sideways　in　a　billow　of　snow；　and　hovered　over　the　circle。　Down　below　a　druid　waved　two　bunches　of　mistletoe　in　plicated　patterns；　and　Belafon　skilfully　brought　the　massive　slab　to　rest　across　two　giant　uprights　with　the　faintest　of　clicks。
　Rincewind　let　his　breath　out　in　a　long　sigh。　It　hurried　off　to　hide　somewhere。
　A　ladder　banged　against　the　side　of　the　slab　and　the　head　of　an　elderly　druid　appeared　over　the　edge。　He　gave　the　two　passengers　a　puzzled　glance；　and　then　looked　up　at　Belafon。
　'About　bloody　time；'　he　said。　'Seven　weeks　to　Hogswatchnight　and　it's　gone　down　on　us　again。'
　'Hallo；　Zakriah；'　said　Belafon。　What　happened　this　time？'
　'It's　all　totally　fouled　up。　Today　it　predicted　sunrise　three　minutes　early。　Talk　about　a　klutz；　boy；　this　is　it。'
　Belafon　clambered　onto　the　ladder　and　disappeared　from　view。　The　passengers　looked　at　each　other；　and　then　tared　down　into　the　vast　open　space　between　the　inner　circle　of　stones。
　'What　shall　we　do　now？'　said　Twoflower。
　'We　could　go　to　sleep？'　suggested　Rincewind。
　Twoflower　ignored　him；　and　climbed　down　the　ladder。
　Around　the　circle　druids　were　tapping　the　megaliths　with　little　hammers　and　listening　intently。　Several　of　the　huge　stones　were　lying　on　their　sides；　and　each　was　surrounded　by　another　crowd　of　druids　who　were　examining　it　carefully　and　arguing　amongst　themselves。　Arcane　phrases　floated　up　to　where　Rincewind　sat：
　'It　can't　be　software　inpatibility　…　the　Chant　of　the　Trodden　Spiral　was　designed　for　concentric　rings；　idiot　。　。　。'
　'I　say　fire　it　up　again　and　try　a　simple　moon　ceremony　。　。　。'
　'。　。　。　all　right；　all　right；　nothing's　wrong　with　the　stones；　it's　just　that　the　universe　has　gone　wrong；　right？　。　。　。'
　Through　the　mists　of　his　exhausted　mind　Rincewind　remembered　the　horrible　star　they'd　seen　in　the　sky。　Something　had　gone　wrong　with　the　universe　last　night。
　How　had　he　e　to　be　back　on　the　Disc？
　He　had　a　feeling　that　the　answers　were　somewhere　inside　his　head。　And　an　even　more　unpleasant　feeling　began　to　dawn　on　him　that　something　else　was　watching　the　scene　below　…　watching　it　from　behind　his　eyes。
　The　Spell　had　crept　from　its　lair　deep　in　the　untrodden　dirtroads　of　his　mind；　and　was　sitting　bold　as　brass　in　his　forebrain；　watching　the　passing　scene　and　doing　the　mental　equivalent　of　eating　popcorn。
　He　tried　to　push　it　back　…　and　the　world　vanished　。　。　。
　He　was　in　darkness；　a　warm；　musty　darkness；　the　darkness　of　the　tomb；　the　velvet　blackness　of　the　mummy　case。　There　was　a　strong　smell　of　old　leather　and　the　sourness　of　ancient　paper。　The　paper　rustled。
　He　felt　that　the　darkness　was　full　of　unimaginable　horrors　…　and　the　trouble　with　unimaginable　horrors　was　that　they　were　only　to　easy　to　imagine　。　。　。
　'Rincewind；'　said　a　voice。　Rincewind　had　never　heard　a　lizard　speak；　but　if　one　did　it　would　have　a　voice　like　that。
　'Um；'　he　said。　'Yes？'
　The　voice　chuckled　…　a　strange　sound；　rather　papery。
　'You　ought　to　say　〃Where　am　I？〃　'　it　said。
　'Would　I　like　it　if　I　knew？'　said　Rincewind。　He　stared　hard　at　the　darkness。　Now　that　he　was　accustomed　to　it；　he　could　see　something。　Something　vague；　hardly　bright　enough　to　be　anything　at　all；　just　the　merest　tracery　in　the　air。　Something　strangely　familiar。
　'All　right；'　he　said。　'Where　am　I？'
　'You're　dreaming。'
　'Can　I　wake　up　now；　please？'
　'No；'　said　another　voice；　as　old　and　dry　as　the　first　but　still　slightly　different。
　'We　have　something　very　important　to　tell　you；'　said　a　third　voice；　if　anything　more　corpse…dry　than　the　others。　Rincewind　nodded　stupidly。　In　the　back　of　his　mind　the　Spell　lurked　and　peered　cautiously　over　his　mental　sh