tp.wyrd sisters-第25部分

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terns　of　an　entire　continent　had　been　changed　because　of　that　simple　fact。　High…speed　evolution　among　local　birds　had　developed　a　generation　that　flew　on　their　backs；　so　that　they　could　keep　a　watchful　eye　on　the　skies。
　Granny's　implicit　belief　that　everything　should　get　out　of　her　way　extended　to　other　witches；　very　tall　trees　and；　on　occasion；　mountains。
　Granny　had　also　browbeaten　the　dwarfs　who　lived　under　the　mountains　and　in　fear　of　their　lives　into　speeding　the　thing　up。　Many　an　egg　had　been　laid　in　mid…air　by　unsuspecting　fowls　who　had　suddenly　glimpsed　Granny　bearing　down　on　them；　scowling　over　the　top　of　the　broomstick。
　'Oh　dear；'　thought　Magrat。　'I　hope　she　hasn't　happened　to　someone。'
　A　midnight　breeze　turned　her　gently　around　in　the　air；　like　an　unsupported　weathercock。　She　shivered　and　squinted　at　the　moonlit　mountains；　the　high　Ramtops；　whose　freezing　crags　and　ice…green　chasms　acknowledged　no　king　or　cartographer。　Only　on　the　Rim　ward　side　was　Lancre　open　to　the　world；　the　rest　of　its　borders　looked　as　jagged　as　a　wolfs　mouth　and　far　more　impassable。　From　up　here　it　was　possible　to　see　the　whole　kingdom　。　。　。
　There　was　a　ripping　noise　in　the　sky　above　her；　a　blast　of　wind　that　spun　her　around　again；　and　a　Doppler…distorted　cry　of；　'Stop　dreaming；　girl！'
　She　gripped　the　bristles　with　her　knees　and　urged　the　stick　upward。
　It　took　several　minutes　to　catch　up　with　Granny；　who　was　lying　almost　full　length　along　her　broomstick　to　reduce　wind　resistance。　Dark　treetops　roared　far　below　them　as　Magrat　came　alongside。　Granny　turned　to　her；　holding　her　hat　on　with　one　hand。
　'Not　before　time；'　she　snapped。　'I　don't　reckon　this　one's　got　more'n　a　few　minutes　flight　left。　e　on；　get　a　move　on。'
　She　reached　out　a　hand。　So　did　Magrat。　Unsteadily；　the　broomsticks　bucking　and　dipping　in　one　another's　slipstream；　they　touched　fingertips。
　Magrat's　arm　tingled　as　the　power　flowed　up　it。＇15＇　Granny's　broomstick　jerked　forward。
　'Leave　me　a　bit；'　shouted　Magrat。　'I've　got　to　get　down！'
　'Shouldn't　be　difficult；'　screamed　Granny；　above　the　noise　of　the　wind。
　'I　mean　get　down　safely！'
　'You're　a　witch；　ain't　you？　By　the　way；　did　you　bring　the　cocoa？　I'm　freezing　up　here！'
　Magrat　nodded　desperately；　and　with　her　spare　hand　passed　up　a　straw　bag。
　'Right；'　said　Granny。　'Well　done。　See　you　at　Lancre　Bridge。'
　She　uncurled　her　fingers。
　Magrat　whirled　away　in　the　buffeting　wind；　clinging　tightly　to　a　broomstick　which　now；　she　feared；　had　about　as　much　buoyancy　as　a　bit　of　firewood。　It　certainly　wasn't　capable　of　sustaining　a　full…grown　woman　against　the　beckoning　fingers　of　gravity。
　As　she　plunged　down　towards　the　forest　roof　in　a　long　shallow　dive　she　reflected　that　there　was　possibly　something　plimentary　in　the　way　Granny　Weatherwax　resolutely　refused　to　consider　other　people's　problems。　It　implied　that；　in　her　considerable　opinion；　they　were　quite　capable　of　sorting　them　out　by　themselves。
　Some　kind　of　Change　spell　was　probably　in　order。
　Magrat　concentrated。
　Well；　that　seemed　to　work。
　Nothing　in　the　sight　of　mortal　man　had　in　fact　changed。　What　Magrat　had　achieved　was　a　mere　adjustment　of　the　mental　processes；　from　a　bewildered　and　slightly　frightened　woman　gliding　inexorably　towards　the　inhospitable　ground　to　a　clearheaded；　optimistic　and　positive　thinking　woman　who　had　really　got　it　together；　was　taking　full　responsibility　for　her　own　life　and　in　general　knew　where　she　was　ing　from　although；　unfortunately；　where　she　was　heading　had　not　changed　in　any　way。　But　she　felt　a　lot　better　about　it。
　She　dug　her　heels　in　and　forced　the　broomstick　to　yield　the　last　dregs　of　its　power　in　a　brief　burst；　sending　it　skimming　erratically　a　few　feet　from　the　trees。　As　it　sagged　again　and　started　to　plough　a　furrow　among　the　midnight　leaves　she　tensed　herself；　prayed　to　whatever　gods　of　the　forest　might　be　listening　that　she　would　land　on　something　soft；　and　let　go。
　There　are　three　thousand　known　major　gods　on　the　Disc；　and　research　theologians　discover　more　every　week。　Apart　from　the　minor　gods　of　rock；　tree　and　water；　there　are　two　that　haunt　the　Ramtops　…　Hoki；　half　a　man；　half　a　goat；　and　entirely　a　bad　practical　joker；　who　was　banished　from　Dunmanifestin　for　pulling　the　old　exploding　mistletoe　joke　on　Blind　Io；　chief　of　all　the　gods；　and　also　Herne　the　Hunted；　the　terrified　and　apprehensive　deity　of　all　small　furry　creatures　whose　destiny　it　is　to　end　their　lives　as　a　brief；　crunchy　squeak　。　。　。
　Either　could　have　been　candidates　for　the　small　miracle　which　then　occurred；　for　…　in　a　forest　full　of　cold　rocks；　jagged　stumps　and　thorn　bushes　…　Magrat　landed　on　something　soft。
　Granny；　meanwhile；　was　accelerating　towards　the　mountains　on　the　second　leg　of　the　journey。　She　consumed　the　regrettably　tepid　cocoa　and；　with　proper　environmental　consideration；　dropped　the　bottle　as　she　passed　over　an　upland　lake。
　It　turned　out　that　Magrat's　idea　of　sustaining　food　was　two　rounds　of　egg　and　cress　sandwiches　with　the　crusts　cut　off　and；　Granny　noticed　before　the　wind　whipped　it　away；　a　small　piece　of　parsley　placed　with　consideration　and　care　on　top　of　each　one。　Granny　regarded　them　for　some　time。　Then　she　ate　them。
　A　chasm　loomed；　still　choked　with　winter　snow。　Like　a　tiny　spark　in　the　darkness；　a　dot　of　light　against　the　hugeness　of　the　Ramtops；　Granny　tackled　the　maze　of　the　mountains。
　Back　in　the　forest；　Magrat　sat　up　and　absent…mindedly　pulled　a　twig　from　her　hair。　A　few　yards　away　the　broomstick　dropped　through　the　trees；　showering　leaves。
　A　groan　and　a　small；　half…hearted　tinkle　caused　her　to　peer　into　the　gloom。　An　indistinct　figure　was　on　its　hands　and　knees；　searching　for　something。
　'Did　I　land　on　you？'　said　Magrat。
　'Someone　did；'　said　the　Fool。
　They　crawled　nearer　to　one　another。
　'You？'
　'You！'
　'What　are　you　doing　here？'
　'Marry；　I　was　walking　along　the　ground；'　said　the　Fool。　'A　lot　of　people　do；　you　know。　I　mean；　I　know　it's　been　done　before。　It's　not　original。　It　probably　lacks　imagination　but；　well；　it's　always　been　good　enough　for　me。'
　'Did　I　hurt　you？'
　'I　think　I've　got　one　or　two　bells　that　won't　be　the　same　again。'
　The　Fool　scrabbled　through　the　leafmould；　and　finally　located　his　hated　hat。　It　clonked。
　'Totally　crushed；　i'faith；'　he　said；　putting　it　on　anyway。　He　seemed　to　feel　better　for　that；　and　went　on；　'Rain；　yes；　hail；　yes；　even　lumps　of　rock。　Fish　and　small　frogs；　okay。　Women　no；　up　till　now。　Is　it　going　to　happen　again？'
　'You've　got　a　bloody　hard　head；'　said　Magrat；　pulling　herself　to　her　feet。
　'Modesty　forbids　me　to　ment；'　said　the　Fool；　and　then　remembered　himself　and　added；　quickly；　'Prithee。'
　They　stared　at　one　another　again；　their　minds　racing。
　Magrat　thought：　Nanny　said　look　at　him　properly。　I'm　looking　at　him。　He　just　looks　the　same。　A　sad　thin　little　man　in　a　ridiculous　jester's　outfit；　he's　practically　a　hunchback。
　Then；　in　the　same　way　that　a　few　random　bulges　in　a　cloud　can　suddenly　bee　a　galleon　or　a　whale　in　the　eye　of　the　beholder；　Magrat　realised　that　the　Fool　was　not　a　little　man。　He　was　at　least　of　average　height；　but　he　made　himself　small；　by　hunching　his　shoulders；　bandying　his　legs　and　walking　in　a　half…crouch　that　made　him　appear　as　though　he　was　capering　on　the　spot。
　I　wonder　what　else　Gytha　Ogg　noticed？　she　thought；　intrigued。
　He　rubbed　his　arm　and　gave　her　a　lopsided　grin。
　'I　suppose　you　haven't　got　any　idea　where　we　are？'　he　said。
　'Witches　never　get　lost；'　said　Magrat　firmly。　'Although　they　can　bee　temporarily　mislaid。　Lancre's　over　that　way；　I　think。　I've　got　to　find　a　hill；　if　you'll　excuse　me。'
　'To　see　where　you　are？'
　'To　see　when；　I　think。　There's　a　lot　of　magic　going　on　tonight。'
　'Is　there？　Then　I　think　I'll　acpany　you；'　the　Fool　added　chivalrously；　after　peering　cautiously　into　the　tree…haunted　gloom　that　apparently　lay　between　him　and　his　flagstones。　'I　wouldn't　want　anything　to　happen　to　you。'
　Granny　lay　low　over　the　broomstick　as　it　plunged　through　the　trackless　chasms　of　the　mountains；　leaning　from　side　to　side　in　the　nope　that　this　might　have　some　effect　on　the　steering　which　seemed；　strangely；　to　be　getting　worse。　Falling　snow　behind　her　was　whipped　and　spiralled　into　odd　shapes　by　the　wind　of　her　passage。　Rearing　waves　of　crusted　snow；　poised　all　winter　over　the　glacial　valleys；　trembled　and　then　began　the　long；　silent　fall。　Her　flight　was　punctuated　by　the　occasional　boom　of　an　avalanche。
　She　looked　down　at　a　landscape　of　sudden　death　and　jagged　beauty；　and　knew　it　was　looking　back　at　her；　as　a　dozing　man　may　watch　a　mosquito。　She　wondered　if　it　realised　what　she　was　doing。　She　wondered　if　it'd　make　her　fall　any　softer；　and　mentally　scolded　herself　for　such　softness。　No；　the　land　wasn't　like　that。　It　didn't　bargain。　The　land　gave　hard；　and　took　hard。　A　dog　always　bit　deepest　on　the　veterinary　hand。
　And　then　she　was　through；　vaulting　so　low　over　the　last　peak　that　one　of　her　boots　filled　with　snow；　and　barrelling　down　towards　the　lowlands。
　The　mist；　never　far　away　in　the　mountains；　was　back　again；　but　this　time　it　was　making　a　fight　of　it　and　had　bee　a　thick；　silver　sea　in　front　of　her。　She　groaned。
　Somewhere　in　the　middle　of　it　Nanny　Ogg　floated；　taking　the　occasional　pull　from　a　hip　flask　as　a　preventative　against　the　chill。
　And　thus　it　was　that　Granny；　her　hat　and　iron…grey　hair　dripping　with　moisture；　her　boots　shedding　lumps　of　ice；　heard　the　distant　and　muffled　sound　of　a　voice　enthusiastically　explaining　to　the　invisible　sky　that　the　hedgehog　had　less　to　worry　over　than　just　about　any　other　mammal。　Like　a　hawk　that　has　spotted　something　small　and　fluffy　in　the　grass；　like　a　wandering　interstellar　flu　germ　that　has　just　seen　a　nice　blue　planet　drifting　by；　Granny　turned　the　stick　and　plunged　down　through　the　choking　billows。
　'e　on！'　she　screamed；　drunk　with　speed　and　exhilaration；　and　the　sound　from　five　hundred　feet　overhead　put　a　passing　wolf　severely　off　its　supper。　'This　minute；　Gytha　Ogg！'
　Nanny　Ogg　caught　her　hand　with　considerable　reluctance　and　the　pair　of　broomsticks　swept　up　again　and　into　the　clear；　starlit　sky。
　The　Disc；　as　always；　gave　the　impression　that　the　Creator　has　designed　it　specifically　to　be　looked　at　from　above。　Streamers　of　cloud　in　white　and　silver　stretched　away　to　the　rim；　stirred　into　thousand…mile　swirls　by　the　turning　of　the　world。　Behind　the　speeding　brooms　the　sullen　roof　of　the　fog　was　dragged　up　into　a　curling　tunnel　of　white　vapour；　so　that　the　watching　gods　…　and　they　were　certainly　watching　…　could　see　the　terrible　flight　as　a　furrow　in　the　sky。
　A　thousand　feet　and　rising　fast　into　the　frosty　air；　the　two　witches　were　bickering　again。
　'It　was　a　bloody　stupid　idea；'　moaned　Nanny。　'I　never　liked　heights。'
　'Did　you　bring　something　to　drink？'
　'Certainly。　You　said。'
　'Well？'
　'I　drank　it；　didn't　I；'　said　Nanny。　'Sitting　around　up　there　at　my　age。　Our　Jason　would　have　a　fit。'
　Granny　gritted　her　teeth。　'Well；　let's　have　the　power；'　she　said。　'I'm　running　out　of　up。　Amazing　how…'
　Granny's　voice　ended　in　a　scream　as；　without　any　warning　at　all；　her　broomstick　pinwheeled　sharply　across　the　clouds　and　dropped　from　sight。
　
　The　Fool　and　Magrat　sat　on　a　log　on　a　small　outcrop　that　loo