tp.wyrd sisters-第49节

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　'I'm　supposed　to　be　upset　by　that；　am　I？'　As　the　soldiers　sheepishly　grabbed　Granny's　arms　the　duchess　pressed　her　face　close　to　Granny's；　her　tremendous　eyebrows　a　V　of　triumphant　hatred。　'I'm　supposed　to　grovel　on　the　floor；　is　that　it？　Well；　old　woman；　I've　seen　exactly　what　I　am；　do　you　understand；　and　I'm　proud　of　it！　I'd　do　it　all　again；　only　hotter　and　longer！　I　enjoyed　it；　and　I　did　it　because　I　wanted　to！'
　She　thumped　the　vast　expanse　of　her　chest。
　'You　gawping　idiots！'　she　said。　'You're　so　weak。　You　really　think　that　people　are　basically　decent　underneath；　don't　you？'
　The　crowd　on　the　stage　backed　away　from　the　sheer　force　of　her　exultation。
　'Well；　I've　looked　underneath；'　said　the　duchess。　'I　know　what　drives　people。　It's　fear。　Sheer；　deep…down　fear。　There's　not　one　of　you　who　doesn't　fear　me；　I　can　make　you　widdle　your　drawers　out　of　terror；　and　now　I'm　going　to　take…'
　At　this　point　Nanny　Ogg　hit　her　on　the　back　of　the　head　with　the　cauldron。
　'She　does　go　on；　doesn't　she？'　she　said　conversationally；　as　the　duchess　collapsed。　'She　was　a　bit　eccentric；　if　you　ask　me。'
　There　was　a　long；　embarrassed　silence。
　Granny　Weatherwax　coughed。　Then　she　treated　the　soldiers　holding　her　to　a　bright；　friendly　smile；　and　pointed　to　the　mound　that　was　now　the　duchess。
　'Take　her　away　and　put　her　in　a　cell　somewhere；'　she　manded。　The　men　snapped　to　attention；　grabbed　the　duchess　by　her　arms；　and　pulled　her　upright　with　considerable　difficulty。
　'Gently；　mind；'　said　Granny。
　She　rubbed　her　hands　together　and　turned　to　Tomjon；　who　was　watching　her　with　his　mouth　open。
　'Depend　on　it；'　she　hissed。　'Here　and　now；　my　lad；　you　don't　have　a　choice。　You're　the　King　of　Lancre。'
　'But　I　don't　know　how　to　be　a　king！'
　'We　all　seed　you！　You　had　it　down　just　right；　including　the　shouting。'
　'That's　just　acting！'
　'Act；　then。　Being　a　king　is；　is…'　Granny　hesitated；　and　snapped　her　fingers　at　Magrat。　'What　do　you　call　them　things；　there's　always　a　hundred　of　them　in　anything？'
　Magrat　looked　bewildered。　'Do　you　mean　per　cents？'　she　said。
　'Them；'　agreed　Granny。　'Most　of　the　per　cents　in　being　a　king　is　acting；　if　you　ask　me。　You　ought　to　be　good　at　it。'
　Tomjon　looked　for　help　into　the　wings；　where　Hwel　should　have　been。　The　dwarf　was　in　fact　there；　but　he　wasn't　paying　much　attention。　He　had　the　script　in　front　of　him；　and　was　rewriting　furiously。
　
　BUT　I　ASSURE　YOU；　YOU　ARE　NOT　DEAD。　TAKE　IT　FROM　ME。
　The　duke　giggled。　He　had　found　a　sheet　from　somewhere　and　had　draped　it　over　himself；　and　was　sidling　along　some　of　the　castle's　more　deserted　corridors。　Sometimes　he　would　go　'whoo…oo'　in　a　low　voice。
　This　worried　Death。　He　was　used　to　people　claiming　that　they　were　not　dead；　because　death　always　came　as　a　shock；　and　a　lot　of　people　had　some　trouble　getting　over　it。　But　people　claiming　that　they　were　dead　with　every　breath　in　their　body　was　a　new　and　unsettling　experience。
　'I　shall　jump　out　on　people；'　said　the　duke　dreamily。　'I　shall　rattle　my　bones　all　night；　I　shall　perch　on　the　roof　and　foretell　a　death　in　the　house…'
　THAT'S　BANSHEES。
　'I　shall　if　I　want；'　said　the　duke；　with　a　trace　of　earlier　determination。　'And　I　shall　float　through　walls；　and　knock　on　tables；　and　drip　ectoplasm　on　anyone　I　don't　like。　Ha。　Ha。'
　IT　WON'T　WORK。　LIVING　PEOPLE　ARENT　ALLOWED　TO　BE　GHOSTS。　I'M　SORRY。
　The　duke　made　an　unsuccessful　attempt　to　float　through　a　wall；　gave　up；　and　opened　a　door　out　on　to　a　crumbling　section　of　the　battlements。　The　storm　had　died　away　a　bit；　and　a　thin　rind　of　moon　lurked　behind　the　clouds　like　a　ticket　tout　for　eternity。
　Death　stalked　through　the　wall　behind　him。
　'Well　then；'　said　the　duke；　'if　I'm　not　dead；　why　are　you　here？'
　He　jumped　up　on　to　the　wall　and　flapped　his　sheet。
　WAITING。
　'Wait　forever；　bone　face！'　said　the　duke　triumphantly。　'I　shall　hover　in　the　twilight　world；　I　shall　find　some　chains　to　shake；　I　shall…'
　He　stepped　backwards；　lost　his　balance；　landed　heavily　on　the　wall　and　slid。　For　a　moment　the　remnant　of　his　right　hand　scrabbled　ineffectually　at　the　stonework；　and　then　it　vanished。
　Death　is　obviously　potentially　everywhere　at　the　same　time；　and　in　one　sense　it　is　no　more　true　to　say　that　he　was　on　the　battlements；　picking　vaguely　at　non…existent　particles　of　glowing　metal　on　the　edge　of　his　scythe　blade；　than　that　he　was　waist…deep　in　the　foaming；　rock…toothed　waters　in　the　depths　of　Lancre　gorge；　his　calcareous　gaze　sweeping　downwards　and　stopping　abruptly　at　a　point　where　the　torrent　ran　a　few　treacherous　inches　over　a　bed　of　angular　pebbles。
　After　a　while　the　duke　sat　up；　transparent　in　the　phosphorescent　waves。
　'I　shall　haunt　their　corridors；'　he　said；　'and　whisper　under　the　doors　on　still　nights。'　His　voice　grew　fainter；　almost　lost　in　the　ceaseless　roar　of　the　river。　'I　shall　make　basket　chairs　creak　most　alarmingly；　just　you　wait　and　see。'
　Death　grinned　at　him。
　NOW　YOU'RE　TALKING。
　It　started　to　rain。
　
　Ramtop　rain　has　a　curiously　penetrative　quality　which　makes　ordinary　rain　seem　almost　arid。　It　poured　in　torrents　over　the　castle　roofs；　and　somehow　seemed　to　go　right　through　the　tiles　and　fill　the　Great　Hall　with　a　warm；　unfortable　moistness。＇21＇
　The　hall　was　crowded　with　half　the　population　of　Lancre。　Outside；　the　rushing　of　the　rain　even　drowned　out　the　distant　roar　of　the　river。　It　soaked　the　stage。　The　colours　ran　and　mingled　in　the　painted　backdrop；　and　one　of　the　curtains　sagged　away　from　its　rail　and　flapped　sadly　into　a　puddle。
　Inside；　Granny　Weatherwax　finished　speaking。
　'You　forgot　about　the　crown；'　whispered　Nanny　Ogg。
　'Ah；'　said　Granny。　'Yes；　the　crown。　It's　on　his　head；　d'you　see？　We　hid　it　among　the　crowns　when　the　actors　left；　the　reason　being；　no…one　would　look　for　it　there。　See　how　it　fits　him　so　perfectly。'
　It　was　a　tribute　to　Granny's　extraordinary　powers　of　persuasion　that　everyone　did　see　how　perfectly　it　fitted　Tomjon。　In　fact　the　only　one　who　didn't　was　Tomjon　himself；　who　was　aware　that　it　was　only　his　ears　that　were　stopping　it　being　a　necklace。
　'Imagine　the　sensation　when　he　put　it　on　for　the　first　time；'　she　went　on。　'I　expect　there　was　an　eldritch　tingling　sensation。'
　'Actually；　it　felt　rather…'　Tomjon　began；　but　no…one　was　listening　to　him。　He　shrugged　and　leaned　over　to　Hwel；　who　was　still　scribbling　busily。
　'Does　eldritch　mean　unfortable？'　he　hissed。
　The　dwarf　looked　at　him　with　unfocused　eyes。
　'What？'
　'I　said；　does　eldritch　mean　unfortable？'
　'Eh？　Oh。　No。　No；　I　shouldn't　think　so。'
　'What　does　it　mean　then？'
　'Dunno。　Oblong；　I　think。'　Hwel's　glance　returned　to　his　scrawls　as　though　magnetised。　'Can　you　remember　what　he　said　after　all　those　tomorrows？　I　didn't　catch　the　bit　after　that　。　。　。'
　'And　there　wasn't　any　need　for　you　to　tell　everyone　I　was　…　adopted；'　said　Tomjon。
　'That's　how　it　was；　you　see；'　said　the　dwarf　vaguely。　'Best　to　be　honest　about　these　things。　Now　then；　did　he　actually　stab　her；　or　just　accuse　her？'
　'I　don't　want　to　be　a　king！'　Tomjon　whispered　hoarsely。　'Everyone　says　I　take　after　dad！'
　'Funny　thing；　all　this　taking　after　people；'　said　the　dwarf　vaguely。　'I　mean；　if　I　took　after　my　dad；　I'd　be　a　hundred　feet　underground　digging　rocks；　whereas…'　His　voice　died　away。　He　stared　at　the　nib　of　his　pen　as　though　it　held　an　incredible　fascination。
　'Whereas　what？'
　'Eh？'
　'Aren't　you　even　listening？'
　'I　knew　it　was　wrong　when　I　wrote　it；　I　knew　it　was　the　wrong　way　round　。　。　。　What？　Oh；　yes。　Be　a　king。　It's　a　good　job。　It　seems　there's　a　lot　of　petition；　at　any　rate。　I'm　very　happy　for　you。　Once　you're　a　king；　you　can　do　anything　you　want。'
　Tomjon　looked　at　the　faces　of　the　Lancre　worthies　around　the　table。　They　had　a　keen；　calculating　look；　like　the　audience　at　a　fatstock　show。　They　were　weighing　him　up。　It　crept　upon　him　in　a　cold　and　clammy　way　that　once　he　was　king；　he　could　do　anything　he　wanted。　Provided　that　what　he　wanted　to　do　was　be　king。
　'You　could　build　your　own　theatre；'　said　Hwel；　his　eyes　lighting　up　for　a　moment。　'With　as　many　trapdoors　as　you　wanted；　and　magnificent　costumes。　You　could　act　in　a　new　play　every　night。　I　mean；　it　would　make　the　Dysk　look　like　a　shed。'
　'Who　would　e　to　see　me？'　said　Tomjon；　sagging　in　his　seat。
　'Everyone。'
　'What；　every　night？'
　'You　could　order　them　to；'　said　Hwel；　without　looking　up。
　I　knew　he　was　going　to　say　that；　Tomjon　thought。　He　can't　really　mean　it；　he　added　charitably。　He's　got　his　play。　He　doesn't　really　exist　in　this　world；　not　right　now　at　the　moment。
　He　took　off　the　crown　and　turned　it　over　and　over　in　his　hands。　There　wasn't　much　metal　in　it；　but　it　felt　heavy。　He　wondered　how　heavy　it　would　get　if　you　wore　it　all　the　time。
　At　the　head　of　the　table　was　an　empty　chair　containing；　he　had　been　assured；　the　ghost　of　his　real　father。　It　would　have　been　nice　to　report　that　he　had　experienced　anything　more；　when　being　introduced　to　it；　than　an　icy　sensation　and　a　buzzing　in　the　ears。
　'I　suppose　I　could　help　father　pay　off　on　the　Dysk；'　he　said。
　'That　would　be　nice；　yes；'　said　Hwel。
　He　spun　the　crown　in　his　fingers　and　listened　glumly　to　the　talk　flowing　back　and　forth　over　his　head。
　'Fifteen　years？'　said　the　Mayor　of