tp.wyrd sisters-第34节

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low…rent　districts　on　the　Morpork　side　were　flooded；　if　you　can　use　that　word　for　a　liquid　you　could　pick　up　in　a　net。　This　sort　of　thing　happened　every　year　and　would　have　caused　havoc　with　the　drains　and　sewage　systems；　so　it　is　just　as　well　that　the　city　didn't　have　very　many。　Its　inhabitants　merely　kept　a　punt　handy　in　the　back　yard　and；　periodically；　built　another　storey　on　the　house。
　It　was　reckoned　to　be　very　healthy　there。　Very　few　germs　were　able　to　survive。
　Hwel　looked　across　a　sort　of　misty　sea　in　which　buildings　clustered　like　a　sandcastle　petition　at　high　tide。　Flares　and　lighted　windows　made　pleasing　patterns　on　the　iridescent　surface；　but　there　was　one　glare　of　light；　much　closer　to　hand；　which　particularly　occupied　his　attention。
　On　a　patch　of　slightly　higher　ground　by　the　river；　bought　by　Vitoller　for　a　ruinous　sum；　a　new　building　was　rising。　It　was　growing　even　by　night；　like　a　mushroom　…　Hwel　could　see　the　cressets　burning　all　along　the　scaffolding　as　the　hired　craftsmen　and　even　some　of　the　players　themselves　refused　to　let　the　mere　shade　of　the　sky　interrupt　their　labours。
　New　buildings　were　rare　in　Morpork；　but　this　was　even　a　new　type　of　building。
　The　Dysk。
　Vitoller　had　been　aghast　at　the　idea　at　first；　but　young　Tomjon　had　kept　at　him。　And　everyone　knew　that　once　the　lad　had　got　the　feel　of　it　he　could　persuade　water　to　flow　uphill。
　'But　we've　always　moved　around；　laddie；'　said　Vitoller；　in　the　desperate　voice　of　one　who　knows　that；　at　the　end　of　it　all；　he's　going　to　lose　the　argument。　'I　can't　go　around　settling　down　at　my　time　of　life。'
　'It's　not　doing　you　any　good；'　said　Tomjon　firmly。　'All　these　cold　nights　and　frosty　mornings。　You're　not　getting　any　younger。　We　should　stay　put　somewhere；　and　let　people　e　to　us。　And　they　will；　too。　You　know　the　crowds　we're　getting　now。　Hwel's　plays　are　famous。'
　'It's　not　my　plays；'　Hwel　had　said。　'It's　the　players。'
　'I　can't　see　me　sitting　by　a　fire　in　a　stuffy　room　and　sleeping　on　feather　beds　and　all　that　nonsense；'　said　Vitoller；　but　he'd　seen　the　look　on　his　wife's　face　and　had　given　in。
　And　then　there　had　been　the　theatre　itself。　Making　water　run　uphill　was　a　parlour　trick　pared　to　getting　the　cash　out　of　Vitoller　but；　it　was　a　fact；　they　had　been　doing　well　these　days。　Ever　since　Tomjon　had　been　big　enough　to　wear　a　ruff　and　say　two　words　without　his　voice　cracking。
　Hwel　and　Vitoller　had　watched　the　first　few　beams　of　the　wooden　framework　go　up。
　'It's　against　nature；'　Vitoller　had　plained；　leaning　on　his　stick。　'Capturing　the　spirit　of　the　theatre；　putting　it　in　a　cage。　It'll　kill　it。'
　'Oh；　I　don't　know；'　said　Hwel　diffidently。　Tomjon　had　laid　his　plans　well；　he'd　devoted　an　entire　evening　to　Hwel　before　even　broaching　the　subject　to　his　father；　and　now　the　dwarfs　mind　was　on　fire　with　the　possibilities　of　backdrops　and　scenery　changes　and　wings　and　flies　and　magnificent　engines　that　could　lower　gods　from　the　heavens　and　trapdoors　that　could　raise　demons　from　hell。　Hwel　was　no　more　capable　of　objecting　to　the　new　theatre　than　a　monkey　was　of　resenting　a　banana　plantation。
　'Damn　thing　hasn't　even　got　a　name；'　Vitoller　had　said。　'I　should　call　it　the　Golde　Mine；　because　that's　what　it's　costing　me。　Where's　the　money　going　to　e　from；　that's　what　I'd　like　to　know。'
　In　fact　they'd　tried　a　lot　of　names；　none　of　which　suited　Tomjon。
　'It's　got　to　be　a　name　that　means　everything；'　he　said。　'Because　there's　everything　inside　it。　The　whole　world　on　the　stage；　do　you　see？'
　And　Hwel　had　said；　knowing　as　he　said　it　that　what　he　was　saying　was　exactly　right；　'The　Disc。'
　And　now　the　Dysk　was　nearly　done；　and　still　he　hadn't　written　the　new　play。
　He　shut　the　window　and　wandered　back　to　his　desk；　picked　up　the　quill；　and　pulled　another　sheet　of　paper　towards　him。　A　thought　struck　him。　The　whole　world　was　a　stage；　to　the　gods　。　。　。
　Presently　he　began　to　write。
　All　the　Disc　it　is　but　an　Theater；　he　wrote；　Aite　alle　men　and　wymmen　are　but　Players。　He　made　the　mistake　of　pausing；　and　another　inspiration　sleeted　down；　sending　his　train　of　thought　off　along　an　entirely　new　track。
　He　looked　at　what　he　had　written　and　added：　Except　Those　who　selle　popcorn。
　After　a　while　he　crossed　this　out；　and　tried：　Like　unto　thee　Staje　of　a　Theater　ys　the　World；　whereon　alle　Persons　strut　as　Players。
　This　seemed　a　bit　better。
　He　thought　for　a　bit；　and　continued　conscientiously：　Sometimes　they　walke　on。　Sometimes　they　walke　off。
　He　seemed　to　be　losing　it。　Time；　time；　what　he　needed　was　an　infinity　。　。　。
　There　was　a　muffled　cry　and　a　thump　from　the　next　room。　Hwel　dropped　the　quill　and　pushed　open　the　door　cautiously。
　The　boy　was　sitting　up　in　bed；　white…faced。　He　relaxed　when　Hwel　came　in。
　'Hwel？'
　'What's　up；　lad？　Nightmares？'
　'Gods；　it　was　terrible！　I　saw　them　again！　I　really　thought　for　a　minute　that…'
　Hwel；　who　was　absent…mindedly　picking　up　the　clothes　that　Tomjon　had　strewn　around　the　room；　paused　in　his　work。　He　was　keen　on　dreams。　That　was　when　the　ideas　came。
　'That　what？'　he　said。
　'It　was　like　。　。　。　I　mean；　I　was　sort　of　inside　something；　like　a　bowl；　and　there　were　these　three　terrible　faces　peering　in　at　me。'
　'Aye？'
　'Yes；　and　then　they　all　said；　〃All　hail　。　。　。〃　and　then　they　started　arguing　about　my　name；　and　then　they　said；　〃Anyway；　who　shall　be　king　hereafter？〃　And　then　one　of　them　said；　〃Here　after　what？〃　and　one　of　the　other　two　said；　〃Just　hereafter；　girl；　it's　what　you're　supposed　to　say　in　these　circumstances；　you　might　try　and　make　an　effort〃；　and　then　they　all　peered　closer；　and　one　of　the　others　said；　〃He　looks　a　bit　peaky；　I　reckon　it's　all　that　foreign　food〃；　and　then　the　youngest　one　said；　〃Nanny；　I've　told　you　already；　there's　no　such　place　as　Thespia〃；　and　then　they　bickered　a　bit；　and　one　of　the　old　ones　said；　〃He　can't　hear　us；　can　he？　He's　tossing　and　turning　a　bit〃；　and　the　other　one　said；　〃You　know　I've　never　been　able　to　get　sound　on　this　thing；　Esme〃；　and　then　they　bickered　some　more；　and　it　went　cloudy；　and　then　。　。　。　I　woke　up　。　。　。'　he　finished　lamely。　'It　was　horrible；　because　every　time　they　came　close　to　the　bowl　it　sort　of　magnified　everything；　so　all　you　could　see　was　eyes　and　nostrils。'
　Hwel　hoisted　himself　on　to　the　edge　of　the　narrow　bed。
　'Funny　old　things；　dreams；'　he　said。
　'Not　much　funny　about　that　one。'
　'No；　but　I　mean；　last　night；　I　had　this　dream　about　a　little　bandy…legged　man　walking　down　a　road；'　said　Hwel。　'He　had　a　little　black　hat　on；　and　he　walked　as　though　his　boots　were　full　of　water。'
　Tomjon　nodded　politely。
　'Yes？'　he　said。　'And…？'
　'Well；　that　was　it。　And　nothing。　He　had　this　little　cane　which　he　twirled　and；　you　know；　it　was　incredibly　。　。　。'
　The　dwarfs　voice　trailed　off。　Tomjon's　face　had　that　familiar　expression　of　polite　and　slightly　condescending　puzzlement　that　Hwel　had　e　to　know　and　dread。
　'Anyway；　it　was　very　amusing；'　he　said；　half　to　himself。　But　he　knew　he'd　never　convince　the　rest　of　the　pany。　If　it　didn't　have　a　custard　pie　in　it　somewhere；　they　said；　it　wasn't　funny。
　Tomjon　swung　his　legs　out　of　bed　and　reached　for　his　britches。
　'I'm　not　going　back　to　sleep；'　he　said。　'What's　the　time？'
　'It's　after　midnight；'　said　Hwel。　'And　you　know　what　your　father　said　about　going　to　bed　late。'
　'I'm　not；'　said　Tomjon；　pulling　on　his　boots。　Tm　getting　up　early。　Getting　up　early　is　very　healthy。　And　now　I'm　going　out　for　a　very　healthy　drink。　You　can　e　too；'　he　added；　'to　keep　an　eye　on　me。'
　Hwel　gave　him　a　doubting　look。
　'You　also　know　what　your　father　says　about　going　out　drinking；'　he　said。
　'Yes。　He　said　he　used　to　do　it　all　the　time　when　he　was　a　lad。　He　said　he'd　think　nothing　of　quaffing　ale　all　night　and　ing　home　at　5　a。m。；　smashing　windows。　He　said　he　was　a　bit　of　a　roister…doister；　not　like　these　white…livered　people　today　who　can't　hold　their　drink。'　Tomjon　adjusted　his　doublet　in　front　of　the　mirror；　and　added；　'You　know；　Hwel；　I　reckon　responsible　behaviour　is　something　to　get　when　you　grow　older。　Like　varicose　veins。'
　Hwel　sighed。　Tomjon's　memory　for　ill…judged　remarks　was　legendary。
　'All　right；'　he　said。　'Just　the　one；　though。　Somewhere　decent。'
　'I　promise。'　Tomjon　adjusted　his　hat。　It　had　a　feather　in　it。
　'By　the　way；'　he　said；　'exactly　how　does　one　quaff？'
　'I　think　it　means　you　spill　most　of　it；'　said　Hwel。
　
　If　the　water　of　the　river　Ankh　was　rather　thicker　and　more　full　of　personality　than　ordinary　river　water；　so　the　air　in　the　Mended　Drum　was　more　crowded　than　normal　air。　It　was　like　dry　fog。
　Tomjon　and　Hwel　watched　it　spilling　out　into　the　street。　The　door　burst　open　and　a　man　came　through　backwards；　not　actually　touching　the　ground　until　he　hit　the　wall　on　the　opposite　side　of　the　street。
　An　enormous　troll；　employed　by　the　owners　to　keep　a　measure　of　order　in　the　place；　came　out　dragging　two　more　limp　bodies　which　he　deposited　on　the　cobbles；　kicking　them　once　or　twice　in　soft　places。
　'I　reckon　they're　roistering　in　there；　don't　you？'　said　Tomjon。
　'It　looks　like　it；'　said　Hwel。　He　shivered。　He　hated　taverns。　People　always　put　their　drinks　down　on　his　head。
　They　scurried　in　quickly　while　the　troll　was　holding　one　unconscious　drinker　up　by　one