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Brys reached the edge of the yard along one side, the gate to his right, the tower to the left And saw iht had sluutted fro the mounds were dead, blackened as if by rot

He studied the scene for a er, thenbetween the pillars, onto the first flagstone – which pitched down to one side with a grinding clunk Brys tottered, flinging his ar

High-pitched laughter from near the tower’s entrance

He looked up

The girl eed from the shadow cast by the tower ‘I know you I followed the ones following you And killed them’

‘What has happened here?’

‘Bad things’ She came closer, mould-patched and dishevelled ‘Are you my friend? I was supposed to help it stay alive But it died anyway, and things are busy killing each other Except for the one the tower chose He wants to talk to you’

‘To rown-up friends’

‘Who,’ Brys asked, ‘are your other grown-up friends?’

‘Mother Shurq, Father Tehol, Uncle Ublala, Uncle Bugg’

Brys was silent Then, ‘What is your name?’

‘Kettle’

‘Kettle, how many people have you killed in the past year?’

She cocked her head ‘I can’t count past eight and two’

‘Ah’

‘Lots of eight and twos’

‘And where do the bodies go?’

‘I bring theround’

‘All of them?’

She nodded