tp.wyrd sisters-第12部分

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　the　most　self…effacing　monolith　ever　discovered。
　It　was　also　one　of　the　numerous　discharge　points　for　the　magic　that　accumulated　in　the　Ramtops。　The　ground　around　it　for　several　yards　was　bare　of　snow；　and　steamed　gently。
　The　stone　began　to　edge　away；　and　watched　her　suspiciously　from　behind　a　tree。
　She　waited　for　ten　minutes　until　Magrat　came　hurrying　up　the　path　from　Mad　Stoat；　a　village　whose　good…natured　inhabitants　were　getting　used　to　ear　massage　and　flower…based　homeopathic　remedies　for　everything　short　of　actual　decapitation。＇7＇　She　was　out　of　breath；　and　wore　only　a　shawl　over　a　nightdress　that；　if　Magrat　had　anything　to　reveal；　would　have　been　very　revealing。
　'You　felt　it　too？'　she　said。
　Granny　nodded。　'Where's　Gytha？'　she　said。
　They　looked　down　the　path　that　led　to　Lancre　town；　a　huddle　of　lights　in　the　snowy　gloom。
　
　There　was　a　party　going　on。　Light　poured　out　into　the　street。　A　line　of　people　were　winding　in　and　out　of　Nanny　Ogg's　house；　from　inside　which　came　occasional　shrieks　of　laughter　and　the　sounds　of　breaking　glass　and　children　grizzling。　It　was　clear　that　family　life　was　being　experienced　to　its　limits　in　that　house。　The　two　witches　stood　uncertainly　in　the　street。
　'Do　you　think　we　should　go　in？'　said　Magrat　diffidently。　'It's　not　as　though　we　were　invited。　And　we　haven't　brought　a　bottle。'
　'Sounds　to　me　as　if　there's　a　deal　too　many　bottles　in　there　already；'　said　Granny　Weatherwax　disapprovingly。　A　man　staggered　out　of　the　doorway；　burped；　bumped　into　Granny；　said；　'Happy　Hogswatchnight；　missus；'　glanced　up　at　her　face　and　sobered　up　instantly。
　'Mss；'　snapped　Granny。
　'I　am　most　frightfully　sorry…'　he　began。
　Granny　swept　imperiously　past　him。　'e；　Magrat；'　she　manded。
　The　din　inside　hovered　around　the　pain　threshold。　Nanny　Ogg　got　around　the　Hogswatchnight　tradition　by　inviting　the　whole　village　in；　and　the　air　in　the　room　was　already　beyond　the　reach　of　pollution　controls。　Granny　navigated　through　the　press　of　bodies　by　the　sound　of　a　cracked　voice　explaining　to　the　world　at　large　that；　pared　to　an　unbelievable　variety　of　other　animals；　the　hedgehog　was　quite　fortunate。
　Nanny　Ogg　was　sitting　in　a　chair　by　the　fire　with　a　quart　mug　in　one　hand；　and　was　conducting　the　reprise　with　a　cigar。　She　grinned　when　she　saw　Granny's　face。
　'What　ho；　my　old　boiler；'　she　screeched　above　the　din。　'See　you　turned　up；　then。　Have　a　drink。　Have　two。　Wotcher；　Magrat。　Pull　up　a　chair　and　call　the　cat　a　bastard。'
　Greebo；　who　was　curled　up　in　the　inglenook　and　watching　the　festivities　with　one　slit　yellow　eye；　flicked　his　tail　once　or　twice。
　Granny　sat　down　stiffly；　a　ramrod　figure　of　decency。
　'We're　not　staying；'　she　said；　glaring　at　Magrat；　who　was　tentatively　reaching　out　towards　a　bowl　of　peanuts。　'I　can　see　you're　busy。　We　just　wondered　whether　you　might　have　noticed　…　anything。　Tonight。　A　little　while　ago。'
　Nanny　Ogg　wrinkled　her　forehead。
　'Our　Darron's　eldest　was　sick；'　she　said。　'Been　at　his　dad's　beer。'
　'Unless　he　was　extremely　ill；'　said　Granny；　'I　doubt　if　it　was　what　I　was　referring　to。'　She　made　a　plex　occult　sign　in　the　air；　which　Nanny　totally　ignored。
　'Someone　tried　to　danee　on　the　table；'　she　said。　'Fell　into　our　Reet's　pumpkin　dip。　We　had　a　good　laugh。'
　Granny　waggled　her　eyebrows　and　placed　a　meaningful　finger　alongside　her　nose。
　'I　was　alluding　to　things　of　a　different　nature；'　she　hinted　darkly。
　Nanny　Ogg　peered　at　her。
　'Something　wrong　with　your　eye；　Esme？'　she　hazarded。
　Granny　Weatherwax　sighed。
　'Extremely　worrying　developments　of　a　magical　tendency　are　even　now　afoot；'　she　said　loudly。
　The　room　went　quiet。　Everyone　stared　at　the　witches；　except　for　Darron's　eldest；　who　took　advantage　of　the　opportunity　to　continue　his　alcoholic　experiments。　Then；　swiftly　as　they　had　fled；　several　dozen　conversations　hurriedly　got　back　into　gear。
　'It　might　be　a　good　idea　if　we　can　go　and　talk　somewhere　more　private；'　said　Granny；　as　the　forting　hubbub　streamed　over　them　again。
　They　ended　up　in　the　washhouse；　where　Granny　tried　to　give　an　account　of　the　mind　she　had　encountered。
　'It's　out　there　somewhere；　in　the　mountains　and　the　high　forests；'　she　said。　'And　it　is　very　big。'
　'I　thought　it　was　looking　for　someone；'　said　Magrat。　'It　put　me　in　mind　of　a　large　dog。　You　know；　lost。　Puzzled。'
　Granny　thought　about　this。　Now　she　came　to　think　of　it　。　。　。
　'Yes；'　she　said。　'Something　like　that。　A　big　dog。'
　'Worried；'　said　Magrat。
　'Searching；'　said　Granny。
　'And　getting　angry；'　said　Magrat。
　'Yes；'　said　Granny；　staring　fixedly　at　Nanny。
　'Could　be　a　troll；'　said　Nanny　Ogg。　'I　left　best　part　of　a　pint　in　there；　you　know；'　she　added　reproachfully。
　'I　know　what　a　troll's　mind　feels　like；　Gytha；'　said　Granny。　She　didn't　snap　the　words　out。　In　fact　it　was　the　quiet　way　she　said　them　that　made　Nanny　hesitate。
　'They　say　there's　really　big　trolls　up　towards　the　Hub；'　said　Nanny　slowly。　'And　ice　giants；　and　big　hairy　woss…names　that　live　above　the　snowline。　But　you　don't　mean　anything　like　that；　do　you？'
　'No。'
　'Oh。'
　Magrat　shivered。　She　told　herself　that　a　witch　had　absolute　control　over　her　own　body；　and　the　goosepimples　under　her　tun　nightdress　were　just　a　figment　of　her　own　imagination。　The　trouble　was；　she　had　an　excellent　imagination。
　Nanny　Ogg　sighed。
　'We'd　better　have　a　look；　then；'　she　said；　and　took　the　lid　off　the　copper。
　Nanny　Ogg　never　used　her　washhouse。；　since　all　her　washing　was　done　by　the　daughers…in…law；　a　tribe　of　grey…faced；　subdued　women　whose　names　she　never　bothered　to　remember。　It　had　bee；　therefore；　a　storage　place　for　dried…up　old　bulbs；　burnt…out　cauldrons　and　fermenting　jars　of　wasp　jam。　No　fire　had　been　lit　under　the　copper　for　ten　years。　Its　bricks　were　crumbling；　and　rare　ferns　grew　around　the　firebox。　The　water　under　the　lid　was　inky　black　and；　according　to　rumour；　bottomless；　the　Ogg　grandchildren　were　encouraged　to　believe　that　monsters　from　the　dawn　of　time　dwelt　in　its　depths；　since　Nanny　believed　that　a　bit　of　thrilling　and　pointless　terror　was　an　essential　ingredient　of　the　magic　of　childhood。
　In　summer　she　used　it　as　a　beer　cooler。
　'It'll　have　to　do。　I　think　perhaps　we　should　join　hands；'　she　said。　'And　you；　Magrat；　make　sure　the　door's　shut。'
　'What　are　you　going　to　try？'　said　Granny。　Since　they　were　on　Nanny's　territory；　the　choice　was　entirely　up　to　her。
　'I　always　say　you　can't　go　wrong　with　a　good　Invocation；'　said　Nanny。　'Haven't　done　one　for　years。'
　Granny　Weatherwax　frowned。　Magrat　said；　'Oh；　but　you　can't。　Not　here。　You　need　a　cauldron；　and　a　magic　sword。　And　an　octogram。　And　spices；　and　all　sorts　of　stuff。'
　Granny　and　Nanny　exchanged　glances。
　'It's　not　her　fault；'　said　Granny。　'It's　all　them　grimmers　she　was　bought。'　She　turned　to　Magrat。
　'You　don't　need　none　of　that；'　she　said。　'You　need　head…ology。'　She　looked　around　the　ancient　washroom。
　'You　just　use　whatever　you've　got；'　she　said。
　She　picked　up　the　bleached　copper　stick；　and　weighed　it　thoughtfully　in　her　hand。
　
　'We　conjure　and　abjure　thee　by　means　of　this…'　Granny　hardly　paused　…　'sharp　and　terrible　copper　stick。'
　The　waters　in　the　boiler　rippled　gently。
　'See　how　we　scatter…'　Magrat　sighed　…　'rather　old　washing　soda　and　some　extremely　hard　soap　flakes　in　thy　honour。　Really；　Nanny；　I　don't　think…'
　'Silence！　Now　you；　Gytha。'
　'And　I　invoke　and　bind　thee　with　the　balding　scrubbing　brush　of　Art　and　the　washboard　of　Protection；'　said　Nanny；　waving　it。　The　wringer　attachment　fell　off。
　'Honesty　is　all　very　well；'　whispered　Magrat；　wretchedly；　'but　somehow　it　isn't　the　same。'
　'You　listen　to　me；　my　girl；'　said　Granny。　'Demons　don't　care　about　the　outward　shape　of　things。　It's　what　you　think　that　matters。　Get　on　with　it。'
　Magrat　tried　to　imagine　that　the　bleached　and　ancient　bar　of　lye　soap　was　the　rarest　of　scented　whatever；　ungulants　or　whatever　they　were；　from　distant　Klatch。　It　was　an　effort。　The　gods　alone　knew　what　kind　of　demon　would　respond　to　a　summoning　like　this。
　Granny　was　also　a　little　uneasy。　She　didn't　much　care　for　demons　in　any　case；　and　all　this　business　with　incantations　and　implements　whiffed　of　wizardry。　It　was　pandering　to　the　things；　making　them　feel　important。　Demons　ought　to　e　when　they　were　called。
　But　protocol　dictated　that　the　host　witch　had　the　choice；　and　Nanny　quite　liked　demons；　who　were　male；　or　apparently　so。
　At　this　point　Granny　was　alternately　cajoling　and　threatening　the　nether　world　with　two　feet　of　bleached　wood。　She　was　impressed　at　her　own　daring。
　The　waters　seethed　a　little；　became　very　still　and　then；　with　a　sudden　movement　and　a　little　popping　noise；　mounded　up　into　a　head。　Magrat　dropped　her　soap。
　It　was　a　good…looking　head；　maybe　a　little　cruel　around　the　eyes　and　beaky　about　the　nose…；　but　nevertheless　handsome　in　a　hard　kind　of　way。　There　was　nothing　surprising　about　this；　since　the　demon　was　only　extending　an　image　of　itself　into　this　reality；　it　might　as　well　make　a　good　job　of　it。　It　turned　slowly；　a　gleaming　black　statue　in　the　fitful　moonlight。
　'Well？'　it　said。
　'Who're　you？'　said　Granny；　bluntly。
　The　head　revolved　to　face　her。
　'My　name　is　unpronounceable　in　your　tongue；　woman；'　it　said。
　'I'll　be　the　judge　of　that；'　warned　Granny；　and　added；　'Don't　you　call　me　woman。'
　'Very　well。　My　name　is　WxrtHltl…jwlpklz；'　said　the　demon　smugly。
　'Where　were　you　when　the　vowels　were　handed　out？　Behind　the　door？'　said　Nanny　Ogg。
　'Well；　Mr…　Granny　hesitated　only　fractionally　…　'WxrtHltl…jwlpklz；　I　expect　you're　wondering　why　we　called　you　here　tonight。'
　'You're　not　supposed　to　say　that；'　said　the　demon。　'　You're　supposed　to　say…'
　'Shut　up。　We　have　the　sword　of　Art　and　the　octogram　of　Protection；　I　warn　you。'
　'Please　yourself。　They　look　like　a　washboard　and　a　copper　stick　to　me；'　sneered　the　demon。
　Granny　glanced　sideways。　The　corner　of　the　washroom　was　stacked　with　kindling　wood；　with　a　big　heavy　sawhorse　in　front　of　it。　She　stared　fixedly　at　the　demon　and；　without　looking；　brought　the　stick　down　hard　across　the；　thick　timber。
　The　dead　silence　that　followed　was　broken　only　by　the　two　perfectly…sliced　halves　of　the　sawhorse　teetering　backwards　and　forwards　and　folding　slowly　into　the　heap　of　kindling。
　The　demon's　face　remained　impassive。
　'You　are　allowed　three　questions；'　it　said。
　'Is　there　something　strange　at　large　in　the　kingdom？'　said　Granny。
　It　appeared　to　think　about　it。
　'And　no　lying；'　said　Magrat　earnestly。　'Otherwise　it'll　be　the　scrubbing　brush　for　you。'
　'You　mean　stranger　than　usual？'
　'Get　on　with　it；'　said　Nanny。　'My　feet　are　freezing　out　here。'
　'No。　There　is　nothing　strange。'
　'But　we　felt　it…'　Magrat　began。
　'Hold　on；　hold　on；'　said　Granny。　Her　lips　moved　soundlessly。　Demons　were　like　genies　or　philosophy　professors　…　if　you　didn't　word　things　exactly　right；　they　delighted　in　giving　you　absolutely　accurate　and　pletely　misleading　answers。
　'Is　there　something　in　the　kingdom　that　wasn't　there　before？'　she　hazarded。
　'No。'
　Tradition　said　that　there　could　be　only　three　questions。　Granny　tried　to　formulate　one　that　couldn't　be　deliberately　misunderstood。　Then　she　decided　that　this　was　playing　the　wrong　kind　of　game。
　'What　the　hell's　going