Exposed in the open, the blackbirds are too crowded together and they are cut to pieces, fingers ears shocking white fragments of bone from splattered heads forms topple down from above throwing those before them to the ground—the sharpshooters are firing faster still and each shot rips a soldier open splinters arms legs so the enemy are wallowing in a slough of human pulp trying to escape. I watch as they claw at the ground trying to pull themselves up and away from the guns, and as the guns split their backs, as invisible hammers smash their arms legs and heads, as swift invisible force plucks at them pulling away fingers toes ears cutting grooves into their chests and along their faces, invisible talons slip along them in convulsions their body cavities open up their tender entrails slither out to be trampled by their routed comrades.

Those who are high enough, or far enough over, swing in their crazy arcs back and forth and escape like ghosts. They leave behind a carpet of screaming men and women.

Later, I see Saskia stride deliberate and cool among them, everywhere extinguishing life with her sword.

*

The outskirts of the city and the heights are blanketed with flies; their buzzing is so loud it can be heard in the harbor. Looking up from the streets I can see, through the buildings, the bodies on the slopes. The slopes look as though they’ve been daubed with tar, so much blood is there. I can’t find a clean spot.

The Edek found me, dragged me to my feet and glared my will out of me, brought me back to the camp. From the city come monotonous bells, four notes, four lower notes, one of the first and one of the second twice, then a final low note before resuming again from the beginning, all the same lengths and intervals, endlessly repeated. To their noise I saw Saskia returning, so weary she barely could walk in a straight line, so drenched in blood that only the whites of her eyes broke the red that covered her.

I hear raised voices sing out in Yeseg. They praise Saskia’s beauty and ferocity.

An Edek’s gaze emerges from every dark spot, like a mask of insane hate, riveted to me, as though the hate were mine.

No reasoning with Makemin is possible—this wasn’t a mistake.

There is a bellowing bull-like insanity striding up and down here that I am desperate to escape. Its every step lands in blood, crushes out life. And I didn’t tell them Makemin is a liar and a murderer and I don’t know why. Did I accept the false idea that it was necessary, too?

I can only escape by sea. Looking down I see my hands are shaking. Now I feel the tremor. It’s going to shake me apart.

*