tp.wyrd sisters-第6部分
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r the kingdom。 Certainly； it was not actually forbidden for witches to get married。 Granny had to concede that； but reluctantly。 Very reluctantly。 She sniffed again； disapprovingly； this was a mistake。
'What's that smell？' she snapped。
'Ah；' said Nanny Ogg； carefully repositioning the baby。 'I expect I'll just go and see if Magrat has any clean rags； shall I？'
And now Granny was left alone。 She felt embarrassed； as one always does when left alone in someone else's room； and fought the urge to get up and inspect the books on the shelf over the sideboard or examine the mantelpiece for dust。 She turned the crown round and round in her hands。 Again； it gave the impression of being bigger and heavier than it actually was。
She caught sight of the mirror over the mantelpiece and looked down at the crown。 It was tempting。 It was practically begging her to try it for size。 Well； and why not？ She made sure that the others weren't around and then； in one movement； whipped off her hat and placed the crown on her head。
It seemed to fit。 Granny drew herself up proudly； and waved a hand imperiously in the general direction of the hearth。
'Jolly well do this；' she said。 She beckoned arrogantly at the grandfather clock。 'Chop his head off； what ho；' she manded。 She smiled grimly。
And froze as she heard the screams； and the thunder of horses； and the deadly whisper of arrows and the damp； solid sound of spears in flesh。 Charge after charge echoed across her skull。 Sword met shield； or sword； or bone …relentlessly。 Years streamed across her mind in the space of a second。 There were times when she lay among the dead； or hanging from the branch of a tree； but always there were hands that would pick her up again； and place her on a velvet cushion 。 。 。
Granny very carefully lifted the crown off her head … it was an effort； it didn't like it much … and laid it on the table。
'So that's being a king for you； is it？' she said softly。 'I wonder why they all want the job？'
'Do you take sugar？' said Magrat； behind her。
'You'd have to be a born fool to be a king；' said Granny。
'Sorry？'
Granny turned。 'Didn't see you e in；' she said。 'What was it you said？'
'Sugar in your tea？'
'Three spoons；' said Granny promptly。 It was one of the few sorrows of Granny Weatherwax's life that； despite all her efforts； she'd arrived at the peak of her career with a plexion like a rosy apple and all her teeth。 No amount of charms could persuade a wart to take root on her handsome if slightly equine features； and vast intakes of sugar only served to give her boundless energy。 A wizard she'd consulted had explained it was on account of her having a metabolism； which at least allowed her to feel vaguely superior to Nanny Ogg； who she suspected had never even seen one。
Magrat dutifully dug out three heaped ones。 It would be nice； she thought wistfully； if someone could say 'thank you' occasionally。
She became aware that the crown was staring at her。
'You can feel it； can you？' said Granny。 'I said； didn't I？ Crowns call out！'
'It's horrible。'
'No； no。 It's just being what it is。 It can't help it。'
'But it's magic！'
'It's just being what it is；' Granny repeated。
'It's trying to get me to try it on；' said Magrat； her hand hovering。
'It does that； yes。'
'But I shall be strong；' said Magrat。
'So I should think；' said Granny； her expression suddenly curiously wooden。 'What's Gytha doing？'
'She's giving the baby a wash in the sink；' said Magrat vaguely。 'How can we hide something like this？ What'd happen if we buried it really deeply somewhere？'
'A badger'd dig it up；' said Granny wearily。 'Or someone'd go prospecting for gold or something。 Or a tree'd tangle its roots around it and then be blown over in a storm； and then someone'd pick it up and put it on…'
'Unless they were as strong…minded as us；' Magrat pointed out。
'Unless that； of course；' said Granny； staring at her finger…nails。 Though the thing with crowns is； it isn't the putting them on that's the problem； it's the taking them off。'
Magrat picked it up and turned it over in her hands。
'It's not as though it even looks much like a crown；' she said。
'You've seen a lot； I expect；' said Granny。 'You'd be an expert on them； naturally。'
'Seen a fair few。 They've got a lot more jewels on them； and cloth bits in the middle；' said Magrat defiantly。 'This is just a thin little thing…'
'Magrat Garlick！'
'I have。 When I was being trained up by Goodie Whemper…'
'…may sherestinpeace…'
'…maysherestinpeace； she used to take me over to Razorback or into Lancre whenever the strolling players were in town。 She was very keen on the theatre。 They've got more crowns than you can shake a stick at although； mind…' she paused … 'Goodie did say they're made of tin and paper and stuff。 And just glass for the jewels。 But they look more realler than this one。 Do you think that's strange？'
'Things that try to look like things often do look more like things than things。 Well…known fact；' said Granny。 'But I don't hold with encouraging it。 What do they stroll about playing； then； in these crowns？'
'You don't know about the theatre？' said Magrat。
Granny Weatherwax； who never declared her ignorance of anything； didn't hesitate。 'Oh； yes；' she said。 'It's one of them style of things； then； is it？'
'Goodie Whemper said it held a mirror up to life；' said Magrat。 'She said it always cheered her up。'
'I expect it would；' said Granny； striking out。 'Played properly； at any rate。 Good people； are they； these theatre players？'
'I think so。'
'And they stroll around the country； you say？' said Granny thoughtfully； looking towards the scullery door。
'All over the place。 There's a troupe in Lancre now； I heard。 I haven't been because； you know。' Magrat looked down。 ' 'Tis not right； a woman going into such places by herself。'
Granny nodded。 She thoroughly approved of such sentiments so long as there was； of course； no suggestion that they applied to her。
She drummed her fingers on Magrat's tablecloth。
'Right；' she said。 'And why not？ Go and tell Gytha to wrap the baby up well。 It's a long time since I heard a theatre played properly。'
Magrat was entranced； as usual。 The theatre was no more than some lengths of painted sacking； a plank stage laid over a few barrels； and half a dozen benches set out in the village square。 But at the same time it had also managed to bee The Castle； Another Part of the Castle； The Same Part A Little Later； The Battlefield and now it was A Road Outside the City。 The afternoon would have been perfect if it wasn't for Granny Weatherwax。
After several piercing glares at the three…man orchestra to see if she could work out which instrument the theatre was； the old witch had finally paid attention to the stage； and it was beginning to bee apparent to Magrat that there were certain fundamental aspects of the theatre that Granny had not yet grasped。
She was currently bouncing up and down on her stool with rage。
'He's killed him；' she hissed。 'Why isn't anyone doing anything about it？ He's killed him！ And right up there in front of everyone！'
Magrat held on desperately to her colleague's arm as she struggled to get to her feet。
'It's all right；' she whispered。 'He's not dead！'
'Are you calling me a liar； my girl？' snapped Granny。 'I saw it all！'
'Look； Granny； it's not really real； d'you see？'
Granny Weatherwax subsided a little； but still grumbled under her breath。 She was beginning to feel that things were trying to make a fool of her。
Up on the stage a man in a sheet was giving a spirited monologue。 Granny listened intently for some minutes； and then nudged Magrat in the ribs。
'What's he on about now？' she demanded。
'He's saying how sorry he was that the other man's dead；' said Magrat； and in an attempt to change the subject added hurriedly； 'There's a lot of crowns； isn't there？'
Granny was not to be distracted。 'What'd he go and kill him for； then？' she said。
'Well； it's a bit plicated…' said Magrat； weakly。
'It's shameful！' snapped Granny。 'And the poor dead thing still lying there！'
Magrat gave an imploring look to Nanny Ogg； who was masticating an apple and
