Rene Magritte The Human Condition

Rene Magritte The Human ConditionRene Magritte The Great WarRene Magritte The Empire of LightRene Magritte The Big Family
Vorbis sat upright in the Tyrant's chair. It was ap­proaching midnight.
A collection of Ephebian citizens, the Tyrant among them, had been herded in front of him.
He busied himself with some paperwork and then looked up with an air of mild surprise, as if he'd been completely unaware that fifty people were waiting in front of him at crossbow point.
"Ah," he said, and flashed a little smile.
"Well," he said, "I am pleased to say that we can now dispense with the peace treaty. Quite unneces­sary. Why prattle of A copy of De Chelonian Mobile was flung on to the marble floor.
Brutha stood beside the throne. It was where he had been told to stand.
He'd looked into the pit and now it was him. Every­thing around him was happening in some distant cir­cle of light, surrounded by darkness. Thoughts chased one another round his headpeace when there is no more war? Ephebe is now a diocese of Omnia. There will be no argument."He threw a paper on to the floor."There will be a fleet here in a few days. There will be no opposition, while we hold the palace. Your in­fernal mirror is even now being smashed."He steepled his fingers and looked at the assembled Ephebians."Who built it?"The Tyrant looked up."It was an Ephebian construction," he said."Ah," said Vorbis, "democracy. I forgot. Then who"-he signaled one of the guards, who handed him a sack-"wrote this?"