tp.wyrd sisters-第42部分
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'。 。 。 and melting snow。 Farewell；' Tomjon finished。 'Drinks phial； collapses behind battlements； down ladder； out of dress and into tabard for ic Guard No。2； wait one； entrance left。 What ho； good…'
'That's about enough；' said Hwel quietly。
Several of the dwarfs were crying into their helmets。 There was a chorus of blown noses。
Thundergust dabbed at his eyes with a chain…mail handkerchief。
'That was the most saddest thing I've ever heard；' he said。 He glared at Tomjon。 'Hang on；' he said； as realisation dawned。 'He's a man。 I bloody fell in love with that girl on stage。' He nudged Hwel。 'He's not a bit of an elf； is he？'
'Absolutely human；' said Hwel。 'I know his father。'
Once again he stared hard at the Fool； who was watching them with his mouth open； and looked back at Tomjon。
Nah； he thought。 Coincidence。
'S'acting；' he said。 'A good actor can be anything； right？'
He could feel the Fool's eye boring into the back of his short neck。
'Yes； but dressing up as women； it's a bit…' said Thundergust doubtfully。
Tomjon slipped off his shoes and knelt down on them； bringing his face level with the dwarfs。 He gave him a calculating stare for a few seconds； and then adjusted his features。
And there were two Thundergusts。 True； one of them was kneeling and had apparently been shaved。
'What ho； what ho；' said Tomjon in the dwarf's voice。
This was by way of being a hilarious gag to the rest of the dwarfs； who had an unplicated sense of humour。 As they gathered round the pair Hwel felt a gentle touch on the shoulder。
'You two are with a theatre？' said the Fool； now almost sober。
'S'right。'
'Then I've e five hundred miles to find you。'
It was； as Hwel would have noted in his stage directions； Later the Same Day。 The sounds of hammering as the Dysk theatre rose from its cradle of scaffolding thumped through Hwel's head and out the other side。
He could remember the drinking； he was certain。 And the dwarfs bought lots more rounds when Tomjon did his impersonations。 Then they had all gone to another bar Thundergust knew； and then they'd gone to a Klatchian takeaway； and after that it was just a blur 。 。 。
He wasn't very good at quaffing。 Too much of the drink actually landed in his mouth。
Judging by the taste in it； some incontinent creature of the night had also scored a direct hit。
'Can you do it？' said Vitoller。
Hwel smacked his lips to get rid of the taste。
'I expect；' said Tomjon。 'It sounded interesting； the way he told it。 Wicked king ruling with the help of evil witches。 Storms。 Ghastly forests。 True Heir to Throne in Life…and…Death Struggle。 Flash of Dagger。 Screams； alarums。 Evil king dies。 Good triumphs。 Bells ring out。'
'Showers of rose petals could be arranged；' said Vitoller。 'I know a man who can get them at practically cost。'
They both looked at Hwel； who was drumming his fingers on his stool。 All three found their attention drawn to the bag of silver the Fool had given Hwel。 Even by itself it represented enough money to plete the Dysk。 And there had been talk of more to follow。 Patronage； that was the thing。
'You'll do it then； will you？' said Vitoller。
'It's got a certain something；' Hwel conceded。 'But 。 。 。 I don't know 。 。 。'
Tm not trying to pressure you；' said Vitoller。 All three pairs of eyes swivelled back to the money bag。
'It seems a bit fishy；' Tomjon conceded。 'I mean； the Fool is decent enough。 But the way he tells it 。 。 。 it's very odd。 His mouth says the words； and his eyes say something else。 And I got the impression he'd much rather we believed his eyes。'
'On the other hand；' said Vitoller hurriedly； 'what harm could it do？ The pay's the thing。'
Hwel raised his head。
'What？' he said muzzily。
'I said； the play's the thing；' said Vitoller。
There was silence again； except for the drumming of Hwel's fingertips。 The bag of silver seemed to have grown larger。 In fact； it seemed to fill the room。
'The thing is…' Vitoller began； unnecessarily loudly。
'The way I see it…' Hwel began。
They both stopped。
'After you。 Sorry。'
'It wasn't important。 Go ahead。'
'I was going to say； we could afford to build the Dysk anyway；' said Hwel。
'Just the shell and the stage；' said Vitoller。 'But not all the other things。 Not the trapdoor mechanism； or the machine for lowering gods out of heaven。 Or the big turntable； or the wind fans。'
'We used to manage without all that stuff；' said Hwel。 'Remember the old days？ All we had was a few planks and a bit of painted sacking。 But we had a lot of spirit。 If we wanted wind we had to make it ourselves。' He drummed his fingers for a while。 'Of course；' he added quietly； 'we should be able to afford a wave machine。 A small one。 I've got this idea about this ship wrecked on an island； where there's this…'
'Sorry。' Vitoller shook his head。 '
'But we've had some huge audiences！' said Tomjon。
'Sure； lad。 Sure。 But they pay in ha'pennies。 The artificers want silver。 If we wanted to be rich men … people；' he corrected hurriedly； 'we should have been born carpenters。' Vitoller shifted uneasily。 'I already owe Chrystophrase the Troll more than I should。'
The other two stared。
'He's the one that has people's limbs torn off！' said Tomjon。
'How much do you owe him？' said Hwel。
'It's all right；' said Vitoller hurriedly； Tm keeping up the interest payments。 More or less。'
'Yes； but how much does he want？'
'An arm and a leg。'
The dwarf and boy stared at him in horror。 'How could you have been so…'
'I did it for you two！ Tomjon deserves a better stage； he doesn't want to go ruining his health sleeping in lattys and never knowing a home； and you； my man； you need somewhere settled； with all the proper things you ought to have； like trapdoors and 。 。 。 wave machines and so forth。 You talked me into it； and I thought； they're right。 It's no life out on the road； giving two performances a day to a bunch of farmers and going round with a hat afterwards； what sort of future is that？ I thought； we've got to get a place somewhere； with fortable seats for the gentry； people who don't throw potatoes at the stage。 I said； blow the cost。 I just wanted you to…'
'All right； all right！' shouted Hwel。 'I'll write it！'
'I'll act it；' said Tomjon。
'I'm not forcing you； mind；' said Vitoller。 'It's your own choice。'
Hwel frowned at the table。 There were； he had to admit； some nice touches。 Three witches was good。 Two wouldn't be enough； four would be too many。 They could be meddling with the destinies of mankind； and everything。 Lots of smoke and green light。 You could do a lot with three witches。 It was surprising no…one had thought of it before。
'So we can tell this Fool that we'll do it； can we？' said Vitoller； his hand on the bag of silver。
And of course you couldn't go wrong with a good storm。 And there was the ghost routine that Vitoller had cut out of Please Yourself； saying they couldn't afford the muslin。 And perhaps he could put Death in； too。 Young Dafe would make a damn good Death； with white makeup and platform soles 。 。 。
'How far away did he say he'd e from？' he said。
'The Ramtops；' said the playmaster。 'Some little kingdom no…one has ever heard of。 Sounds like a chest infection。'
'It'd take months to get there。'
'I'd like to go； anyway；' said Tomjon。 'That's where I was born。'
Vitoller looked at the ceiling。 Hwel looked at the floor。 Anything was better； just at that moment； than looking at each other's face。
'That's what you said；' said the boy。 'When you did a tour of the mountains； you said。'
'Yes； but I can't remember where；' said Vitoller。 'All those little mountain towns looked the same to me。 We spent more time pushing the lattys across rivers and dragging them up hills than we ever did on the stage。'
'I could take some of the younger lads and we could make a summer of it；' said Tomjon。 'Put on all the old favourites。 And we could still be back by Soulcake Day。 You could stay here and see to the theatre； and we could be back for a Grand Opening。' He grinned at his father。 'It'd be good for them；' he said slyly。 'You always said some of the young lads don't know what a real acting life is like。'
'Hwel's sti
