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In the first cart, straight-backed on the driver’s bench, a boy an a girl sit side by side In the white cloudlight, the quarter circle brand stands out starkly on their foreheads Stewards of the Earth DeMalo’s Chosen ones

There’s a spotted kercheef tied round her neck Her hair ripples loose down her back She ain’t seenan shinin with health, like all Stewards So young, they’re probly newly paired outta Edenhome Chosen fer each other by DeMalo, like the top breedin stock they are The cart’s piled high with table, chairs, tools an other necessaries fer a life on the land A life where, though? Surely not the Raze It’s a wasted, desolate place

But it’s the second cart that stops my heart

One Tonton drives Another sits facin backwards, firestick at the ready, keepin watch over their load It’s slave workers Maybe ten, ether Sittin on the floor of the open cart Shaved heads Iron collars around their necks Chained together, like slaves always is here By the ankles when they’re workin, by the ankles an hands an necks fer transport

Eight reat hounds pace beside them Smooth white skin Raw pink eyes Massive heads with powerful jaws

Ghosthounds, says Creed Dogs of war

My eyes flick to the fuse It’s burnin, still sluggish but steady Headed fer the bridge an the blastpack Slaves Innocent blood I’m on the move Throwin down the looker, snatchin rabshih

I pelt downhill, keepin low, chasin the lit fuse Gotta beat it Gotta stop it Lucky it’s da about Snatch at the unlit fusecord, sweepin my knife in, ready to cut, to kill it

My feet hit soone I slide on my back, boots first, down the hill Now the fuse burns brisk, hissin pastoffa trees, crash into bushes I flail with a wild hand, reachin fer sorab a thick root Sharp jolt, wrist to socket I jerk to a sudden halt

I ae Their horses sound soft thunder An right behind ’eh, rolls onto the boards The sizzlin fuse nips outta sight Now the slave cart’s about to hit the bridge I throw ht to my ears

It blows A thick boom shakes the earth I’m thrown in the air I land with a thump Stones an dirt shower down On top of one dull Like listenin from deep down in water

I raise my head My throat’s choked by a warnin screah the shift of the cloud An as the boom starts to fade to heavy, shocked air, I see In flashes Like drealimpses of our work An one The Stewards in their cart The blameless beasts Ani like so much bad meat On the rocks of the Eastern Defile Bits of cart Sticks that was chairs, a table They smash, slide, tumble an crash Head fer the river below

No dreait to ht at eance slaround Bounces wild Strikes e Orange flaes

Then Sounds fade in Horses People Screah the smoke an cloud an chaos A Tonton’s bin crushed by his horse It strains an thrashes as it struggles to its feet The slave cart’s shattered Bodies spilled, sprawled still on the road Still chained at the wrists

Somethin flutters down to land on my arm I pick it off an stare It’s a tatter of spotted cloth The Steward’s kercheef, the long-haired girl It’s wet Dark ith her blood