Rene Magritte The Voice of the WindsRene Magritte The Sea of FlamesRene Magritte The Ignorant FairyRene Magritte The Human ConditionRene Magritte The Great War
troupe got under way a few hours before sunset, their four carts lurching off down the road that led towards the Sto plains and the big cities. Lancre had a town rule that all mummers, mountebanks and other potential criminalsjust paint and paper. Anyone could see that.'
Magrat opened her mouth to speak, ran the ensuing argument through her head, and shut it again.
'Where's Nanny?' she said.
'She's lying out on the lawn,' said Granny. 'She felt a bit poorly.' And from outside were outside the gates by sundown; it didn't offend anyone really because the town had no walls to speak of, and no-one much minded if people nipped back in again after dark. It was the look of the thing that counted.The witches watched from Magrat's cottage, using Nanny Ogg's ancient green crystal ball.'It's about time you learned how to get sound on this thing,' Granny muttered. She gave it a nudge, filling the image with ripples.'It was very strange,' said Magrat. 'In those carts. The things they had! Paper trees, and all kinds of costumes, and—' she waved her hands – 'there was this great big picture of forn parts, with all temples and things all rolled up. It was beautiful.'Granny grunted.'I thought it was amazing the way all those people became kings and things, didn't you? It was like magic.''Magrat Garlick, what are you saying? It was
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