Wyrd Sisters

OWER NOW, BRIEF MORTALS , he said, FOR I AM D EATH, ’GAINST WHOM NO…NO…’GAINST WHOM …
    He hesitated. He hesitated, for the very first time in the eternity of his existence.
    For although the Death of the Discworld was used to dealing with people by the million, at the same time every death was intimate and personal.
    Death was seldom seen except by those of an occult persuasion and his clients themselves. The reason that no one else saw him was that the human brain is clever enough to edit sights too horrible for it to cope with, but the problem here was that several hundred people were in fact expecting to see Death at this point, and were therefore seeing him.
    Death turned slowly and stared back at hundreds of watching eyes.
    Even in the grip of the truth Tomjon recognized a fellow actor in distress, and fought for mastery of his lips.
    “‘…lock will hold…’” he whispered, through teeth fixed in a grimace.
    Death gave him a manic grin of stagefright.
    W HAT ? he whispered, in a voice like an anvil being hit with a small lead hammer.
    “‘…lock will hold, nor fasten’d portal…,’” said Tomjon encouragingly.
    … LOCK WILL HOLD NOR FASTEN’D PORTAL…UH …repeated Death desperately, watching his lips.
    “‘…bar!…’”
    B AR .
    “No, I cannot do it!” said Wimsloe. “I will be seen! Down there in the hall, someone watches!”
    “There is no one!”
    “I feel the stare!”
    “Dithering idiot! Must I put it in for you? See, his foot is upon the top stair!”
    Wimsloe’s face contorted with fear and uncertainty. He drew back his hand.
    “No!”
    The scream came from the audience. The duke was half-risen from his seat, his tortured knuckles at his mouth. As they watched he lurched forward between the shocked people.
    “No! I did not do it! It was not like that! You cannot say it was like that! You were not there!” He stared at the upturned faces around him, and sagged.
    “Nor was I,” he giggled. “I was asleep at the time, you know. I remember it quite well. There was blood on the counterpane, there was blood on the floor, I could not wash off the blood, but these are not proper subjects for the inquiry. I cannot allow the discussion of national security. It was just a dream, and when I awoke, he’d be alive tomorrow. And tomorrow it wouldn’t have happened because it was not done. And tomorrow you can say I did not know. And tomorrow you can say I had no recollection. What a noise he made in falling! Enough to wake the dead…who would have thought he had so much blood in him?…” By now he had climbed onto the stage, and grinned brightly at the assembled company.
    “I hope that sorts it all out,” he said. “Ha. Ha.”
    In the silence that followed Tomjon opened his mouth to utter something suitable, something soothing, and found that there was nothing he could say.
    But another personality stepped into him, took over his lips, and spoke thusly:
    “With my own bloody dagger, you bastard! I know it was you! I saw you at the top of the stairs, sucking your thumb! I’d kill you now, except for the thought of having to spend eternity listening to your whining. I, Verence, formerly King of—”
    “What testimony is this?” said the duchess. She stood in front of the stage, with half a dozen soldiers beside her.
    “These are just slanders,” she added. “And treason to boot. The rantings of mad players.”
    “I was bloody King of Lancre!” shouted Tomjon.
    “In which case you are the alleged victim,” said the duchess calmly. “And unable to speak for the prosecution. It is against all precedent.”
    Tomjon’s body turned toward Death.
    “You were there! You saw it all!”
    I SUSPECT I WOULD NOT BE CONSIDERED AN APPROPRIATE WITNESS .
    “Therefore there is no proof, and where there is no proof there is no crime,” said the duchess. She motioned the soldiers forward.
    “So much for your experiment,” she said to her husband. “I think my way is better.”
    She looked around the stage, and found the witches.
    “Arrest them,” she said.
    “No,” said the Fool, stepping out of the wings.
    “ What did you say?”
    “I saw it all,” said the Fool, simply. “I was in the Great Hall that night. You killed the king, my lord.”
    “I did not!” screamed the duke. “You were not there! I did not see you there! I order you not to be there!”
    “You did not dare say this before,” said Lady Felmet.
    “Yes, lady. But I must say it now.”
    The