Wyrd Sisters

they’d tried a lot of names, none of which suited Tomjon.
    “It’s got to be a name that means everything,” he said. “Because there’s everything inside it. The whole world on the stage, do you see?”
    And Hwel had said, knowing as he said it that what he was saying was exactly right, “The Disc.”
    And now the Dysk was nearly done, and still he hadn’t written the new play.
    He shut the window and wandered back to his desk, picked up the quill, and pulled another sheet of paper toward him. A thought struck him. The whole world was a stage, to the gods…
    Presently he began to write.
    All the Disc it is but an Theater , he wrote, Ane alle men and wymmen are but Players . He made the mistake of pausing, and another inspiration sleeted down, sending his train of thought off along an entirely new track.
    He looked at what he had written and added: Except Those who selle popcorn .
    After a while he crossed this out, and tried: Like unto thee Staje of a Theater ys the World, whereon alle Persons strut as Players .
    This seemed a bit better.
    He thought for a bit, and continued conscientiously: Sometimes they walke on. Sometimes they walke off .
    He seemed to be losing it. Time, time, what he needed was an infinity…
    There was a muffled cry and a thump from the next room. Hwel dropped the quill and pushed open the door cautiously.
    The boy was sitting up in bed, white-faced. He relaxed when Hwel came in.
    “Hwel?”
    “What’s up, lad? Nightmares?”
    “Gods, it was terrible! I saw them again! I really thought for a minute that—”
    Hwel, who was absent-mindedly picking up the clothes that Tomjon had strewn around the room, paused in his work. He was keen on dreams. That was when the ideas came.
    “That what?” he said.
    “It was like…I mean, I was sort of inside something, like a bowl, and there were these three terrible faces peering in at me.”
    “Aye?”
    “Yes, and then they all said, ‘All hail…’ and then they started arguing about my name, and then they said, ‘Anyway, who shall be king hereafter?’ And then one of them said, ‘Here after what?’ and one of the other two said, ‘Just hereafter, girl, it’s what you’re supposed to say in these circumstances, you might try and make an effort,’ and then they all peered closer, and one of the others said, ‘He looks a bit peaky, I reckon it’s all that foreign food,’ and then the youngest one said, ‘Nanny, I’ve told you already, there’s no such place as Thespia,’ and then they bickered a bit, and one of the old ones said, ‘He can’t hear us, can he? He’s tossing and turning a bit,’ and the other one said, ‘You know I’ve never been able to get sound on this thing, Esme,’ and then they bickered some more, and it went cloudy, and then…I woke up…” he finished lamely. “It was horrible, because every time they came close to the bowl it sort of magnified everything, so all you could see was eyes and nostrils.”
    Hwel hoisted himself onto the edge of the narrow bed.
    “Funny old things, dreams,” he said.
    “Not much funny about that one.”
    “No, but I mean, last night, I had this dream about a little bandy-legged man walking down a road,” said Hwel. “He had a little black hat on, and he walked as though his boots were full of water.”
    Tomjon nodded politely.
    “Yes?” he said. “And—?”
    “Well, that was it. And nothing. He had this little cane which he twirled and, you know, it was incredibly…”
    The dwarf’s voice trailed off. Tomjon’s face had that familiar expression of polite and slightly condescending puzzlement that Hwel had come to know and dread.
    “Anyway, it was very amusing,” he said, half to himself. But he knew he’d never convince the rest of the company. If it didn’t have a custard pie in it somewhere, they said, it wasn’t funny.
    Tomjon swung his legs out of bed and reached for his britches.
    “I’m not going back to sleep,” he said. “What’s the time?”
    “It’s after midnight,” said Hwel. “And you know what your father said about going to bed late.”
    “I’m not,” said Tomjon, pulling on his boots. “I’m getting up early. Getting up early is very healthy. And now I’m going out for a very healthy drink. You can come too,” he added, “to keep an eye on me.”
    Hwel gave him a doubting look.
    “You also know what your father says about going out drinking,” he said.
    “Yes. He said he used to do it all the time when he