Leroy Neiman Beach at Cannes

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family, Soll. Especially me.’
Soll shrugged. ‘OK. OK.’
‘Right?’
‘Yes, of the hall. With a clanking and the hiss of desperately escaping air, Bezam’s daughter Calliope rose slowly out of the floor, attacking the keys on a small organ with all the verve of several hours’ practice and the combined efforts of two strong trolls working the bellows behind the scenes. She was a beefy young woman and, whatever piece of music she was playing, it was definitely losing.
Down in the stalls, the Dean passed a bag along to the Chair.Uncle.’ Soll grinned. ‘You’ve got my solemn promise on that.’‘That’s my boy.’At the other end of the row, Victor and Ginger were staring at the blank screen in sullen horror.‘You know what’s going to happen now, don’t you,’ said Ginger.‘Yes. Someone’s going to start playing music out of a hole in the floor.’‘Was that cave really a picture pit?’‘Sort of, I think,’ said Victor, carefully.‘But the screen here is just a screen. It’s not . . . well, it’s just a screen. Just a better class of sheet. It’s not –‘There There was a blast of sound from the front

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sat under the table in perplexed disapproval to begin with, and then in alcoholic perplexed disapproval, because Laddie was generosity itself when it came to sharing saucers of beer.
Now, after they’d both been thrown out, Gaspode decided it was time for a lecture in true dogness.
‘You don’t want to go himblong. Umlong. Humbling yourself to ‘umans,’ he said. ‘It’s letting everyone , you know.’ He managed to get back on all four feet. ‘I mean, look at the start I had in life. Frone inna river inna sack. An actual sack, Dear little puppy dog opens his eyes, look out in wonder at the world, style offing, he’s in this sack.’ The tears dripped off his nose. ‘For two weeks I thought the brick was my mother.’
‘Woof,’ said Laddie, with uncomprehending sympathy. down. We’ll never frow off the shackles of dependency on mankind if dogs like you go aroun’ bein’ glad to see people the whole time. I was person’ly disgusted when you did that Lyin’-on-your-back-and-playin’-dead routine, let me tell you.’ ‘Woof.’ ‘You’re just a running dog of the human imperialists,’ said Gaspode severely. Laddie put his paws over his nose. Gaspode tried to stand up, tripped over his legs, and sat down heavily. After a while a couple of huge tears coursed down his fur. ‘Concourse,’ he said, ‘I never had a chance

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They sat down in the shade behind the tent.
‘I just want you to know’, said Ginger coldly, ‘that I have never attempted to look languorous in my life.’
‘Could be worth a try,’ said Victor, absently.
‘What?’
‘Sorry. with Holy Wood?’ she said.
Victor nodded. Then he threw himself sideways and landed on Gaspode, who had been watching them intently.
‘Yelp,’ said Gaspode.
‘Now listen,’ Victor hissed into his ear, ‘No more of these hints. What is it that you noticed about us? Otherwise it’s Detritus for you. With mustard.’
The dog squirmed in his grip. Look, something made us act like that. I don’t know how to use a sword. I’ve always just waved it around. What did you feel like?’ ‘You know how you feel when you hear someone say something and you realize you’ve been daydreaming?’ ‘It was like your own life fading away and something else filling up the space.’ They considered this in silence. ‘Do you think it’s something to do

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Silverfish looked surprised. ‘Oh, you’ll be OK,’ he said. ‘It’s very hard to be bad at acting in moving pictures.’
He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a dollar coin.
‘Here,’ he Silverfish’s face broke into a relieved grin.
‘Oh, that,’ he said. ‘That’s just the magic of Holy Wood. Not wizard’s magic,’ he added hastily, ‘which is all superstition and mumbo-jumbo. No. This is magic for ordinary people. Your mind is fizzing with all the possibilities. I know mine was,’ he added. . ‘Yes,’ said Victor uncertainly. ‘But how does it work?’
Silverfish’s face lit up. said, ‘go and get something to eat.’ He looked Victor up and down. ‘Are you waiting for something?’ he said. ‘Well,’ said Victor, ‘I was hoping you could tell me what’s going on.’ ‘How do you mean?’ ‘A couple of nights ago I watched your, your click,’ he felt slightly proud of remembering the term, ‘back in the city and suddenly I wanted to be here more than anything else. I’ve never really wanted anything in my life before!’

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,' it said. 'You don't catch me out like that. You think I'm stupid? You've got to tell me the answer.'
'Oh, blow,' said Teppic.
'Thought you had me there, didn't you?' said the Sphinx.
'Sorry.'
'You thought you could get me all confused, did you?'
The Sphinx grinned.
'It was worth a try,' said Teppic.
'Can't guessed the riddle?' said Teppic.
'No!'
'Well, then. They couldn't have talked, could they?'
The Sphinx's claws scrabbled irritably on its rock.
'I suppose you'd better move along, then,' it grumbled.
'Thank you,' said Teppic.blame you. So what's the answer, then?' Teppic scratched his nose. 'Haven't a clue,' he said. 'Unless, and this is a shot in the dark, you understand, it's: A Man.' The Sphinx glared at him. 'You've been here before, haven't you?' it said accusingly. 'No.' 'Then someone's been talking, right?' 'Who could have talked? Has anyone ever
'I'd be grateful if you didn't tell anyone, please,' added the Sphinx

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Teppic peered out through the eye slots. It was certainly a handsome face. It smiled faintly. He remembered his father visiting the nursery one day and forgetting to take it off; Teppic had screamed the place down.
'It's important.'
Teppic juggled it into position.
'I expect you've seen a lot of changes,' he said politely.
A look of pain passed over the old priest's face, but quickly, as if it was in a hurry to get away. 'No, sire,' he said smoothly, 'I have been very fortunate.'
'Oh. What's this?'
'The Sheaf of Plenty, sire. Extremely significant, very symbolic.'rather heavy.' 'It is weighted with the centuries,' said Dios, and passed over the obsidian Reaping Hook of Justice. 'Have you been a priest long, Dios?' 'Many years, sire, man and eunuch. Now-' 'Father said you were high priest even in grandad's time. You must be very old.' 'Well-preserved, sire. The gods have been kind to me,' said Dios, in the face of the evidence. 'And now, sire, if we could just hold this as well . . 'What is it?' 'The Honeycomb of Increase, sire. Very

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can afford a tavern tonight,' he said. 'So if we just—'
'We'll sleep in the carts,' said Tomjon firmly, squinting at himself in the shard of mirror.
'But you know how much the Fo – the king gave us! It could be feather beds all the way home!'
'It's straw mattresses and a good profit for us,' said Tomjon. 'And that'll buy you gods from heaven and demons from hell and the wind and the waves and more trapdoors than you can count, my lawn ornament.'
Hwel's over land and pick up some more cash. That would be better, wouldn't it?' Tomjon grinned. 'We took one hundred and three pence tonight; I counted heads during the Judgement speech. That's nearly one silver piece after expenses.'
'You're your father's son, and no mistake,' said Hwel.
Tomjon sat back and looked at himself in the mirror.
'Yes,' he said, 'I thought I had better be.'hand rested on Tomjon's shoulder for a moment. Then he said, 'You're right, boss.''Certainly I am. How's the play going?''Hmm? What play?' said Hwel, innocently.Tomjon carefully removed a plaster brow ridge.'You know,' he said. 'That one. The Lancre King.''Oh. Coming along. Coming along, you know. I'll get it right one of these days.' Hwel changed the subject with speed. 'You know, we could work our way down to the river and take a boat home. That would be nice, wouldn't it?''But we could work our way home

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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 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.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

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wouldn't work. People have to sort this sort of thing out for themselves.'
'If you say so, Esme,' said Nanny meekly.
'I do. Magic's there to be ruled, not for ruling.'
Nanny nodded and then, remembering a promise, reached down and picked up a fragment of stone from the rubble on the tunnel floor.
'I thought you'd forgotten,' said the ghost of the king, by her ear.
Further down the passage the Fool was capering after Magrat.
'Can I see you again?' he said.
'Well . .. 'Well—' she said.
'About two o'clock. In the meadow by the pond, all right?'
'Well—'
'See you there, then. All right?' said the Fool desperately. . I don't know,' said Magrat, her heart singing a smug song.'How about tonight?' said the Fool.'Oh, no,' said Magrat. 'I'm very busy tonight.' She had intended to curl up with a hot milk drink and Goodie Whemper's notebooks on experimental astrology, but instinct told her that any suitor should have an uphill struggle put in front of him, just to make him keener.'Tomorrow night, then?' the Fool persisted.'I think I should be washing my hair.''I could get Friday night free.''We do a lot of work at night, you see—''The afternoon, then.'Magrat hesitated. Perhaps instinct had got it wrong

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began at five the next morning. Four men rode through the woods near Granny's cottage, tethered the horses out of earshot, and crept very cautiously through the mists.
The sergeant in charge was not happy in his work. He was a Ramtops man, and wasn't at all certain about how you went about arresting a witch. He was pretty certain, though, that the witch wouldn't like the idea. He didn't like the idea of a witch not liking the idea.
The men, That's what we do.'
They moved carefully through the bracken. The sergeant crouched behind a handy log, and said, 'Right. Very good. You've got the general idea. Now let's spread out again, and this time we spread out separately.'
The men grumbled a bit, but disappeared into the mist. The sergeant gave them a few minutes to take up positions, then said, 'Right. Now we—' were Ramtoppers as well. They were following him very closely, ready to duck behind him at the first sign of anything more unexpected than a tree.Granny's cottage was a fungoid shape in the mist. Her unruly herb garden seemed to move, even in the still air. It contained plants seen nowhere else in the mountains, their roots and seeds traded across five thousand miles of the Discworld, and the sergeant could swear that one or two blooms turned towards him. He shuddered.'What now, sarge?''We – we spread out,' he said. 'Yes. We spread out

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whose expertise with the knife was so unreliable that half of the sacrifices got tired of waiting and wandered away. The last time he'd tried to sacrifice a goat it had time to give birth to twins before he could focus, and then the . I remember a wizard when I was a lad —'
'I'm afraid I don't know anything about fireworks,' said Cutwell, in tones designed to convey that he cherished this ignorance.
'Lots of rockets,' the Chancellor reminisced happily. 'Ankhian candles. Thunderflashes. And thingies that you can hold in your hand. It's not a proper coronation without fireworks.'
'Yes, but, you see —'courage of motherhood had resulted in it chasing the entire priesthood out of the temple.The chances of him succeeding in putting the crown on the right person even in normal circumstances were only average, Cutwell had calculated; he'd have to stand alongside the old boy and try tactfully to guide his shaking hands.Still, even that wasn't the big problem. The big problem was much bigger than that. The big problem had been sprung on him by the Chancellor after breakfast.'Fireworks?' Cutwell had said.'That's the sort of thing you wizard fellows are supposed to be good at, isn't it?' said the Chancellor, as crusty as a week-old loaf. 'Flashes and bangs and whatnot

Rene Magritte Dangerous Liaisons

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Keli moved through it like an earthbound spook. She was aware of the servants' quarters, of course, in the same way that people are aware at some level in their minds of the drains or the guttering, and she would be quite biggest kitchen, a cavern lined with so many pots that by the light of its fires it looked like an armoury for tortoises, and felt the unfamiliar thrill of theft. Theft! In her own kingdom! And the cook looked straight through her, eyes as glazed as jugged ham.
Keli ran across the stable yards and out of the back gate, past a couple of sentries prepared to concede that although servants all looked pretty much alike they must have some distinguishing features by which their nearest and dearest could, presumably, identify them. But she was not prepared for sights like Moghedron the wine butler, whom she had hitherto seen only as a stately presence moving like a galleon under full sail, sitting in his pantry with his jacket undone and smoking a pipe.A couple of maids ran past her without a second glance, giggling. She hurried on, aware that in some strange way she was trespassing in her own castle.And that, she realised, was because it wasn't her castle at all. The noisy world around her, with its steaming laundries and chilly stillrooms, was its own world. She couldn't own it. Possibly it owned her.She took a chicken leg from the table in the

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considered this carefully.
THERE'S NO TECHNICAL REASON WHY NOT, he conceded. IN MY EXPERIENCE, HOWEVER, IT IS GENERALLY NOT , and remembering who he was talking to added, 'Saving y'honour's presence, of course.'
SOMETIMES. THERE ARE SOME THINGS YOU HAVE TO DO, WHEN YOU'RE A KING.
A city slid below them, clustered around a castle built on a rock outcrop that poked THE CASE.The horse wheeled, and the vast flat checkerboard of the Sto plain sped underneath them at lightning speed. This was rich country, full of silt and rolling cabbage fields and neat little kingdoms whose boundaries wriggled like snakes as small, complex alliances and the occasional bit of sloppy cartography changed the political shape of the land.'This king,' said Mort, as a forest zipped beneath them, 'is he good or bad?'I NEVER CONCERN MYSELF WITH SUCH THINGS, said Death. HE'S NO WORSE THAN ANY OTHER KING, I IMAGINE.'Does he have people put to death?' said Mort

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brief pain in her eyes. It paused.
"Ah, that hurt you, Did it not? You don't like to see another one suffer, yes? Not this one, it seems."
It turned and beckoned, and two of the tall Things lurched over to it and gripped it firmly by the arms.Don't let them get it!" He grimaced as the claw tightened on his arm.
"Is this a trick?" said Esk. "Who are you really?"
"Don't you recognise me?" he said wretchedly. "What are you doing in my dream?"
"If this is a dream then I'd like to wake up, please," said Esk.
"Listen. You must run away now, do you understand? Don't stand there with your mouth open."
GIVE IT To us, said a cold voice inside Esk's head.
Esk looked down at the glass pyramid with its unconcerned little world and stared up at Simon, her mouth an O of puzzlement.
"But what is it?"
"Look hard at it!"
Its eyes changed. The darkness faded, and then Simon's own eyes looked out of his face. He stared up at the Things on either side of him and struggled briefly, but one had several pairs of tentacles wrapped around his wrist and the other was holding his arm in the world's largest lobster claw.
Then he saw Esk, and his eyes fell to the little glass pyramid.

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immediately as both men turned to stare at her.
Amschat turned the stone over in his palm. Putting the chameleon spircle stones into a box with some real gems so that they appeared to change their hue was a traditional trick, but these had the true inner blue fire. He looked up back of his mind. His nerve broke.
"I regret this unfortunate dispute," he said. "I had accepted the stones as ultramarines in good faith but rather than cause disharmony between us I will ask you to accept them as - as a gift, and for the fleeces may I offer this roseatte of the first sorting?"sharply at the broker. Amschat had been finely trained in the art of the Lie. He recognised the subtle signs, now that he came to think about it. "There seems to be a doubt," he said, "but 'tis easily resolved, we need only take them to the assayer in Pine Street because the world knows that spircles will dissolve in hypactic fluid, yesno?" The broker hesitated. Amschat had changed position slightly, and the set of his muscles suggested that any sudden movement on the broker's part would see him flat in the dust. And that damn child was squinting at him as though she could see through to the

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The cottage radiated emptiness. They could feel it. The windows did look like eyes, black and menacing against the snow. And no one in the Ramtops let their fire go out in the winter, as a matter of pride.
Esk than an old almanac, or more precisely about half an old almanac, carefully hung on a nail. Granny had a philosophical objection to reading, but she'd be the last to say that books, especially books with nice thin pages, didn't have their uses.
The key shared a ledge by the door with a chrysalis and the stump of a candle. Esk took it gingerly, trying not to disturb the chrysalis, and hurried back to the boys.
It was no use trying the front door. Front doors in Bad Ass were used only by wanted to say "Let's go knew that if she did the boys would run for it. Instead she said, "Mother says there's a key on a nail in the privy," and that was nearly as bad. Even an ordinary unknown privy held minor terrors like wasps' nests, large spiders, mysterious rustling things in the roof and, one very bad winter, a small hibernating bear that caused acute constipation in the family until it was persuaded to bed down in the haybam. A witch's privy could contain anything. "I'll go and look, shall I?" she added. "If you like," said Gulta airily, almost successfully concealing his relief. In fact, when she managed to get the door open against the piled snow, it was neat and clean and contained nothing more sinister

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easily have passed for seventy on a dark night.
'This is, uh, serious?' he said. 'You're really going to marry her?'
'Share thing. Any objections?'
'Well, no, of course not, but – I mean, she's seventeen and you're, you're, how can I put it, you're of the elderly persuasion.'
'Time I shettled down, you mean?'
Rincewind groped for words. 'You're seventy years older than her, Cohen. Are you sure that —'
'I have been married before, you know. I've got quite a good memory,' said Cohen reproachfully.
'No, what I mean is, well, I mean physically, the point is, what about, you know, the age difference and may bring?'
'Not me.'
Cohen clapped Rincewind on the shoulder. 'SHome-timesh we jusht haveeverything, t's a matter of health, isn't it, and —''Ah,' said Cohen slowly, 'I shee what you mean. The strain. I hadn't looked at it like that.''No,' said Rincewind, straightening up. 'No, well, that's only to be expected.''You've given me something to think about and no mishtake,' said Cohen.'I hope I haven't upset anything.''No, no,' said Cohen vaguely. 'Don't apologishe. You were right to point it out.'He turned and looked at Bethan, who waved at him, and then he looked up at the star that glared through the mists.Eventually he said, 'Dangerous times, these.''That's a fact.''Who knows what tomorrow

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'You ought to say "Where am I?" ' it said.
'Would I like it if I knew?' said Rincewind. He stared hard at the darkness. Now that he was accustomed to it, he could see something. Something vague, hardly bright enough to be anything at all, just the merest tracery in the air. Something strangely familiar.
'All right,' he said. 'Where am I?'
'You're dreaming.'
'Can I wake up now, please?'
'No,' said another voice, as old and dry as the first but still slightly different.
'We have something very important to tell you,' said a third voice, if anything more corpse-dry than the others. Rincewind nodded stupidly. In the back of his mind the Spell lurked and peered cautiously over his mental shoulder.
'You've caused us a lot of trouble, young Rincewind,' the voice went on. 'All this dropping over the edge of the world with 'But try not to fall off the Disc again. We really can't have that.'
'Who are we, exactly?' said Rincewind.
There was a rustling in the darkness.
'In the beginning was the word,' said a dry voice right ehind him.no thought for other people. We had to seriously distort reality, you know.''Gosh.''And now you have a very important task ahead of you.''Oh. Good.''Many years ago we arranged for one of our number to hide in your head, because we could foresee a time coming when you would need to play a very important role.''Me? Why?''You run away a lot,' said one of the voices. That is good. You are a survivor.''Survivor? I've nearly been killed dozens of times!''Exactly.''Oh.'

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unoccupied, dragged Twoflower inside, and slammed it behind him. Then he leaned against it, wheezing horribly.
"We're the cold, still, immensely high and brooding mountains of Eternity.
Swish! went the stone. Death hummed a dirge, and tapped one bony foot on the frosty flagstones.
Someone approached through the dim orchard where the nightapples grew, and there came the sickly sweet smell of crushed lilies. Death looked up angrily, and totally lost in a palace on an island we haven't a hope of leaving," he panted. "And what's more we- hey!" he finished, as the sight of the contents of the room filtered up his deranged optic nerves.Twoflower was already staring at the walls.Because what was so odd about the room was, it contained the whole Universe. Death sat in His garden, running a whetstone along the edge of His scythe. It was already so sharp that any passing breeze that blew across it was sliced smoothly into two puzzled zephyrs, although breezes were rare indeed in Death's silent garden. It lay on a sheltered plateau overlooking the Disc world's complex dimensions, and behind it loomed

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Beyond them the dragon was as multi-hued, horned, spiked and lithe as the one in his memory - a real dragon. Its folded wings were nevertheless still wide enough to scrape the wall on both sides of the room. It lay with him exploded into a shower of hot droplets.
Black shadows arced and jiggered over the walls. The metal bubbled for an eye-aching moment, and then the door fell in two pieces in the passage beyond. The flame winked out with a suddenness that was almost as startling as its arrival.
Twoflower stepped gingerly over the cooling between its talons."Obey?" he said, his voice vibrating with terror and delight.Of course, lord.The glow faded away. Twoflower pointed a trembling finger at where he remembered the door to be and said, "Open it!"The dragon raised its huge head. Again the ball of flame rolled out but this time, as the dragon's neck muscles contracted, its colour faded from orange to yellow, from yellow to white, and finally to the faintest of blues. By that time the flame was also very thin, and where it touched the wall the molten rock spat and ran. When it reached the door the metal