Marc Chagall Blue Lovers

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half an hour ago."
"That was the oil bond store going up," said Rincewind, wincing at the memory of the burning rain.
Weasel turned and grinned expectantly at his companion, who grunted and handed over a coin from his pouch. Then there was a scream from the roadway, cut off abruptly. Rincewind did not look up from his chicken.
"One of the things he can't do, he can't ride a horse," he said. Then he stiffened as if sandbagged by a sudden recollection, "No-oo. But magic of a kind, I think. Not the usual sort. I mean, it can turn gold into copper while at the same time it is still gold, it makes men rich by destroying their possessions, it allows the weak to walk fearlessly among thieves, it passes through the strongest doors to leach the most protected treasuriesgave a small yelp of terror and dashed into the gloom. When he returned, the being called Twoflower was hanging limply over his shoulder. It was small and skinny, and dressed very oddly in a pair of knee length britches and a shirt in such a violent and vivid conflict of colours that Weasel's fastidious eye was offended even in the half-light."No bones broken, by the feel of things," said Rincewind. He was breathing heavily. Bravd winked at the Weasel and went to investigate the shape that they assumed was a pack animal."You'd be wise to forget it," said the wizard, without looking up from his examination of the unconscious Twoflower. "Believe me. A power protects it.""A spell?" said Weasel, squatting down.