Page 97 - What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours

sent word, so the guards decided to sleep on it another night, and another, until

they were able to admit to themselves and to each other that they just weren’t
going to follow orders this time. Their first step toward rebellion, finding out
that disobedience didn’t immediately bring about the end of the world . . . the
prison guards cautiously went into dialogue with their counterparts at the palace
and at border crossings, and a quiet, steady exodus began.

—

THE NEIGHBORING countries welcomed the escapees, and with them the
opportunity to remove the tyrant’s power at the same time as playing a prank on
him by helping to empty out his territory. If the tyrant noticed that the streets
were quieter than usual, he simply said to himself: “Huh, I suppose I really did
have a lot of these people drowned, didn’t I . . .” It probably wouldn’t have

helped him one way or the other to notice that as the living people left, the
marshland stretched out farther and farther, slowly pulling houses and cinemas,
greengrocers, restaurants, and concert halls down into the water. If you looked
down into the swamps (which he never did) it was possible to see people
untangling their limbs and hair, courteously handing each other body parts and
keys, resuming residence in their homes, working out what crops they might
raise and which forms of energy they could harness.

—

MEANWHILE THE TYRANT was congratulating himself for having dealt with
Arkady. He had disliked the way Lokum had begged for Arkady’s life, and cared
even less for her expression upon being told her pleas came too late. He didn’t
think they’d had a love affair (that lanky pyromaniac could only dream of being

worthy of Lokum’s attention), but Lokum’s behavior was too similar to that of
the man Eirini the First loved. What was wrong with these people?
—

THE TYRANT set Lokum alight on their wedding day. Thanks to Arkady, fire had
risen to the top of his list of elimination methods. He forced her to walk to the
end of the longest bridge spanning the marshlands, and he drenched her in petrol

and struck a flame. He’d given no real thought to decreasing his own
flammability, so the event was referred to as an attempted murder-suicide.
“Attempted” because when he tried to run away, the burning woman ran after
him, shouting that she’d just that moment discovered something very interesting;