Raging Star

AFTER

MY EYES OPEN TO DAYLIGHT. I LIE ON A BED. IN A ROOM I don’t know.

DeMalo’s the first thing I see. In a chair, by a window, dressed in white, he sits an reads a book. Outside, the sky is blue.

Lugh, Lugh with yer eyes so blue

I could sail me away on yer eyes.

I turn my face to the wall.

You’re awake, says DeMalo. At last.

I hear him git up. Hear him walk.

A door opens. He says some words. The door shuts. He walks.

The floor is plank. The door is oiled. His feet an voice fall soft.

He moves his chair beside the bed. A quiet creak as he sits.

How are you feeling? he says.

It’s whitewashed stone. The wall.

Do you remember what happened? he says.

The room feels warm. My mouth feels dry.

I got there just in time, he says. The river almost had you. You were bleeding badly. In terrible pain.

The door opens an shuts. Someone’s come in. He stands. Moves away. She’s awake, he says.

Firm footsteps. Work-rough fingers lift my wrist. Take my pulse. I turn my head. It’s Mercy. Her eyes warn me not to betray us. She lays her hand on my forehead.

Fever’s gone, she says. Her pulse is fine.

This is Mercy. She’s been caring for you, says DeMalo.

He don’t know that I know her.

You miscarried, lady, says Mercy. I’m told you had a bad shock. I expect that’s why. Still, it often happens with the first one. Sometimes you don’t even know you’re pregnant.

Miscarried. Pregnant. Jest words.

She straightens up. She says to DeMalo, Like I said, Master, your lady needs to put some flesh on her bones. Plenty of rest an proper food, that’ll soon set her right. I oughta check her over, now she’s awake.

She stands, hands folded, eyes lowered.

Of course, says DeMalo. I’ll leave you alone. Sleep, he tells me. I’ll see you tonight.

Mercy sits on the bed. She takes me in her arms. Holds me. I’m sorry, she says. So sorry.

DeMalo sent out searchers. To find the best midwife in New Eden. The Tonton tracked her down by word of mouth. She was brought here in greatest hurry. She stays to this room, her own room, a sluice room an the kitchen. Wherever she is, a Tonton’s with her. None must speak to her but on matters of my care. It’s a fine house, one of several DeMalo moves between. Plain but comfortable.

She don’t know New Eden well. All she knows is we’re somewhere southwest. The house stands in grassland with views to nowhere. At the end of a long track from the road.

DeMalo went in the river to save me. I bin here five nights an five days. At first she feared I had no will to live. DeMalo ain’t hardly ever here. She got the idea there was trouble elsewhere an he was called away to deal with it. She wonders if our work got discovered. She fears fer our people.

Nero’s about. He comes an goes through the window. Mercy taught him to lift the latch. Tracker found his way here from the Lanes. He ain’t seen by day but he howls in the night.

My brother an sister lie in graves, side by side. DeMalo raised stone cairns above them.

That’s what she tells me. No more. Not yet. She don’t say the words agin. Pregnant. Miscarried. She don’t ask me no questions.

I don’t speak.

I don’t cry.

I’m white.

I’m bones.

Stripped bare.

I wake. It’s dark. There’s a fire in the hearth. The room’s lit by rushlight. DeMalo sits by the window in his chair. He stares at the starfall night. A glass of blood dark wine in his hand.

I can hear the howl of a wolfdog. Tracker, not far off.

Star season, he says. Superstitious fools. They think this tumult is all down to you. The Angel of Death. He don’t turn his head. He must of heard me move. That wolfdog’s been howling for hours, he says.

I sit up an push off the blanket. I’m wearin a long shift. It’s thick an soft. He’s come to my bedside. He offers his hand. I look at it. Then I take it. I’m shaky as he helps me to a settle seat by the fire.

Covered dishes keep warm on the hearth. He sets one on a low table. Hands me a fork. Eat, he says. You must be hungry.

It’s scrambled egg. I take a small bite. He props hisself in the corner of the settle. One knee up, one foot on the floor. He’s poured me some wine. He watches me sip it.

You’re too thin, he says. Too pale. Our wedding day will be the first great event in the history of New Eden. I need you to look in bloom. I’ll speak to the woman, to Mercy. She’s bound to know a trick or two. He holds his glass to the firelight. Stares at its blood red richness. I scour New Eden for the most skilled midwife, he says, and where do they find her? In a slave gang. It beggars belief. With the babyhouses full to bursting all the time, we need every midwife we can get.

The babyhouse I seen was half full.

While you’ve been resting, I’ve been busy, he says. A wedding likes this takes much planning, preparation. It’s going to be extraordinary. Magnificent. It will bind us all together. One family, serving, healing the earth. This will be the true beginning of New Eden. The story will be told for generations to come.

He takes my hand in his. He looks tired. But beautiful. By the fire an lantern light, he’s burnished gold. Like Tommo in the sunlight that day.

I’ve waited for you. Now I have you, he says. Say my name.

Seth, I says.

He pulls me to him. Gathers me close. No, he says. Like you said it then.

Then. When I gave myself to him. I look in his blackwater eyes. An I whisper his name like he wants me to.

He goes to kiss me. I turn my head, slightly. With one finger to my chin, he brings me back to him. An I know the dark country of his mouth once more. The drug touch of his hands. The heat of his body. He leaves me cold. He stops. So ungenerous, Saba, he says. I’ll forgive you. This time.

He shifts back to the corner of the settle. I stare straight ahead as he looks at me. You’ll grow your hair long, he says. I want to see it against your skin. Now eat. I won’t have wasted food.

I lift my fork. Make myself eat another bite. He drinks his wine an watches me.

My men rounded up your rebel crew, he says. What was left of them. Three people in a junkyard. One’s the crazy old junk woman, I’m told. The Steward couple were easily found. Dealt with on the spot. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. Small wonder you were ready to surrender. And, before you ask, no, you can’t see them. They’re somewhere secure until after the wedding. Don’t worry, I intend to keep my word. I have no wish for a resentful wife. What is it they say? A little kindness goes a long way.

He toasts me.

So … how do I rate your performance? he says. In this little endgame of ours. You were always going to lose, no matter what you did. Was it unfair advantage that I set your brother against you? You must know that I always have a safety net. I’m sorry to say … you rate low. I expected much more. I give you a week and the best you can do is free a few children from their intolerable life of three meals a day, a warm bed and a meaningful future. They’re all back at Edenhome in any case. And as for that sentimental trick of returning infants to their parents, I don’t suppose they’ll be thanking you now. He stares at me a long moment. There’s the tiniest of frowns between his eyes. Disappointing, Saba, he says. And perplexing. You’ve caused me some … inconvenience, that’s all. And rained your own blood upon your head. Your lover, the traitor, is the only one not accounted for. If he drowned, he’ll wash up downstream. If not, he’ll be found and dealt with.

He pulls somethin from his pocket. Shows it to me. It’s my little leather bag with the barkscroll messages. He says, Nero as go-between, I presume. That’s more like it. He tosses the bag on the fire.

Safe passage fer Jack too, I says. You promised.

What? he says. You’d have your brother die for nothing?

A single tear shames me. Tracks down my cheek.

He watches me as he drinks. What is this? he says. Self-pity? Guilt? Or is it grief?

It’s somethin in the way he asks. Not to taunt me. He wants to know. An at last I git it. His unreadable eyes. His smooth, blank face. Not blank becuz he’s hidin how he feels. Blank becuz he don’t feel nuthin. Kindness. Guilt. Grief. Self-pity. They’re jest words to him. He’s learned to say them at the right time.

We marry in two nights and one day, he says. Cry until then if you must, but no more. He empties his glass. I’ll have no red-eyed bride, he says. We’re not made of common dust like the rest. We have a destiny, you and I. Together. There’s much to be done. I have plans.

He kisses me agin. A hard kiss, like he owns me. Next time, we’ll know who the father is, he says.

He gits to his feet. Goes to the door. It opens an closes. He locks it behind him. He’s gone.

I sit. I stare in the fire. A sudden rattle at the window makes me jump. The gleam of black feathers in the lamplight, through the glass. My heart quickens.

Nero, I says.

He’s lifted the latch, like Mercy taught him. Silently, carefully—they mustn’t know he’s here—I open the window an bring him in. I can hear Tracker still howlin nearby. I lean out into the night. There ain’t nobody around. I whistle softly. Once. Twice. I wait. I wait. Then I see him by the light of the moon. A silver-grey streak, racin through the field towards the house. He flings hisself at the wall below me. Stretches on his hind legs to his full height. Hopin to try an reach me. But three bone-breaker floors stand between us.

All I can do is look down an whisper to him. I’m okay, it’s okay, I’m here. I tell him what a fine fellow he is. He whimpers, but knows not to bark. Then I tell him to go. He mustn’t be found near the house. DeMalo would never hurt him. He’s kindness itself to any creature not human. But the Tonton cain’t be trusted not to harm him.

I close the window an take Nero in my arms. Bring him to my fireside chair. I cradle his warmth to me. Breathe his smell to me. He rubs his beak on my neck. It’s jest you an me now, I tell him. They’re gone. Jest you an me.

I say the words. I still don’t feel what they mean.

We sit fer some time. An I begin to think.

The two Tonton we left in the road. They must of led the way to Starlight Lanes. Three at the junkyard. Peg an Tommo an Webb. DeMalo said, the Steward couple, dealt with on the spot. The Tonton must of tracked down Manuel. His woman, Bo, would be judged guilty with him. But only those two from Jack’s rebel gang. That means they didn’t talk before they died. Before they died. That leaves Molly an Auriel at Nass Camp. Slim an Ash an Creed still somewhere in New Eden. Jack, who hates me, on the run. Maybe they all hate me.

The Snake River folk on the farms ain’t bin discovered.

He’s made plans for our marriage. Preparations. Extraordinary. Magnificent.

I look to the fire. My leather bag lies in the ashes. I pick it out. It’s singed an blackened. But the scrolls inside ain’t bin burnt.

I eat the eggs. Some cornbread. A sliced breast of duck. I drink some wine.

I set Nero free in the night. Then I go to bed. An I sleep.

I wake to find Mercy movin about. Fillin a tin bath with hot water. She drops in oil of thyme. When I’m scrubbed, she washes my hair with soapwort. As she’s tippin rinse water over my head, DeMalo comes into the room.

There’s a Tonton jest inside the door. No doubt to make sure me an Mercy don’t plot. But we’re behind a low screen to be private.

DeMalo comes around it. Without a nod or a look to me or a by yer leave, he says to Mercy, I want her blooming by tomorrow. Rosy cheeks. Bright eyes. Do you understand?

She nods. A decoction of archangel, she says. Cures melancholy. That’s what she needs. I’ll hafta gather some.

Find it, he says. Do you know where to go?

I believe so, she says.

My men will take you there now.

I wanna see where you buried them, I says.

He looks at me.

Please, I says.

After tomorrow, he says. That’s soon enough. That reminds me. DeMalo reaches in his pocket an pulls somethin out. He was wearing this around his neck, he says.

He tosses an I catch it. Lugh’s necklace. The little ring of green glass, threaded on a leather string. I gave it to him fer our last birthday. Eighteen year, it was.

I’ll spend tonight elsewhere, says DeMalo. I won’t see you now until we wed.

He leaves. Mercy an me look at each other. I git outta the tub an, as she dries me with a sack, I says to the Tonton, Empty the water, would you please? When he hesitates, I says, You heard the Master. She needs to go right away.

I stand aside, wrapped in the sack. He hurries over, not lookin at me. He seizes the tub, takes it off to empty it. I go to my bed. Pull my leather bag from unner the straw pallet an dump out the scrolls inside. As I start to sort through ’em, I whisper to Mercy, There’s a safe message drop near the watermill. On the Don River, where we met that day. D’you know the one I mean?

I do, she says. I’ll find some archangel thereabouts. It grows most places. It’s our luck he don’t seem to know that.

I’ve found the scroll I want. I press it into her hand.

Could be they don’t find this in time, I says. We don’t even know if they’re still usin the drops. Or they might find it an … ignore it, I dunno. I don’t really know what I’m doin, I jest have this idea. I could be wrong, but—

I’ll see to it. Don’t worry. As she tucks the scroll in her bosom, she says, I’m glad to hear yer voice agin. I was startin to think you’d lost it.

Please be careful, I says.

I ain’t got this far bein careless, she says.

With a smile an a nod to reassure me, she slips out the door. She’ll be gone fer some while.

The house is quiet. Nobody comes, nobody goes. I stare out the window. I sit an I think.

I hold Lugh’s necklace in one hand. I hold the heartstone in the other.

I cain’t let myself feel. Not yet. So I do what I did in my Hopetown cell at night. When the dreams woke me. When the fears took hold. I imagine the world all around me is dark. I go deep inside my self. Shrinking my self down to one point of light. Where I’m safe. Where I’m strong.

I’m one point of light an I ask,

Who am I?

What do I believe?

Never lose sight of what I believe in. Never, no matter what happens.

What one person does affects all of us.

We’re all bound together. We’re all threads in a single garment of destiny.

I make my destiny myself.

By the choices I make.

Mercy won’t be back. That’s all they’ll tell me. She must of bin caught tryin to leave the message in the drop box. I dunno if she’s alive or dead.

But somebody, maybe her, picked the archangel. It was brewed an brought to me in wine. I don’t touch it.

Tomorrow, I marry DeMalo.

A strange slave woman wakes me in the grey time. As the night turns towards dawn. She’s bin sent to dress me to be wed. As she lights every lantern in the room, I see the gown that’s bin laid at the foot of my bed. It was put there while I slept.

It’s strange. Wonderful. Extraordinary, like he said. A queenly gown. Long to the floor. Tight sleeves to the wrist. Laced up the back. The colour of rich wine. Made of heavy soft cloth. It’s old. Wrecker old. It’s bin garlanded with fresh flowers, with real leaves. With feathers an polished stones. There’s a circle of twisted gold fer my head. No boots. That means he wants bare feet.

Nero taps on the window. I let him in. I wash my face an hands. The woman combs my hair. She’s shy. Won’t meet my eyes. Her name, she tells me, is Fan.

In silence, she laces me in. The gown fits me perfect. Of course. He’s seen to it. Fan’s brought rose petals in oil. She rubs ’em into my cheeks an lips. I must have bloom. The flush of joy. That’s what he wants. Today, appearance is all.

In New Eden appearance is all. The lie dressed as truth. Slavery dressed as freedom. Me dressed as DeMalo’s bride.

The same someone who brought the gown left a tall lookin glass aginst the wall. When I’m ready, Nero comes to perch on my shoulder. We stare at the stranger who stares back at us. In the lanternglow light, the circle gleams gold on her black hair. Her eyes glitter huge an dark. The gown fits her like a skin. The neck’s low at her bosom. The skirt trails behind her with a hush. The stones catch the light. The feathers gleam.

Beautiful, says Fan. Like a forest spirit.

Nero starts to caw. He scolds, heckles me, bobs up an down. He’s right. She ain’t me, this stranger. I ain’t her. She ain’t real. She’s some idea of DeMalo’s that fits into his grand plan, his great story. With him, the powerful, wise father of New Eden. An her, the earth mother. An the Angel of Death is dead at last. Killed by him. Like her sister an her brother.

Dead I may be at the end of this day. But I ain’t dead yet.

I ditch the gold circle. Haul on my boots. I strap on my armour over the dress. The metal plate jerkin an armbands. It puts poor Fan in a twitch.

If there’s blame, I’ll take it, I says.

She dithers about me, the heartstone in hand, anxious to hang it around my neck.

Not that one, I says. The green glass.

I wear the necklace I gave to Lugh.

Then we go outside. Nero takes to the air. It’s cool an clear an windy. Three shades short of dawn. I find a guard of eight Tonton lined up to escort me. Hermes waits in the middle. He looks splendid. He’s bin groomed like never before in his life. He shines an gleams from ears to hoofs. He tosses his head when he sees me.

I pause. My gown’s tight. I’ll hafta ride sidewise. DeMalo’s thought of this too. A Tonton comes towards me to lift me onto horseback. I reach down an grab the hem. The old cloth tears easy. I rip it to my thighs. Then I swing myself onto Hermes.

Nero flies above me as we move down the track. Then Tracker appears in the fields alongside. The Tonton horses shy, the Tonton go fer their guns.

He’s with me, I says. He won’t harm none. I whistle fer him to come an he runs beside Hermes.

When we reach the road, we turn east.

East to the sunrise. East to Weepin Water. East to the bunker in the hill. An DeMalo’s magnificent dawn vision.

His secret. His half truth. His outright lie.

I start to hear the faint throb of drumbeats. Many drums bein played together. The faint glow of torchlight colours the sky. As we git closer, the drums grow louder. Their fast, earthy beat urges us on. The hubble of voices warms the air.

The wind’s brought great rollin banks of grey cloud. They clash an part, tumble an break overhead.

Me an my Tonton escort stop on the low ridge that overlooks the torchlit meadow. The sweetgrass meadow with the bunker hill in the middle. It’s thronged with hunnerds of people. Stewards of the Earth, scrubbed an polished. There’s plenty of Tonton about. Fer them, too, it’s a day of celebration. At the foot of the hill sit the children from Edenhome. Kept apart from the rest by a line of Tonton. Low junktents ring the meadow. Through their smokeholes, the smell of food billows from cookfires. It seems that a feast will follow.

I see what’s kept DeMalo so busy. He’s completely transformed the hill. On top of it stands the white vision room. He’s had the walls an floor an ceilin moved, piece by piece, then put back together atop the hill. The front of it stands open to the meadow so’s everybody can see inside. Jack did say it was made in sections. Only DeMalo could do such a thing. I should be amazed, but I ain’t. I know his singularity of purpose.

Extraordinary. Jest like he said. All here will witness his miraculous vision. Most of ’em will of seen it once before. In a small group, inside the bunker, at the start of their new life in New Eden. But today they’ll witness it together. At the dawn of this marriage day of great joy.

The story will be told fer generations to come.

Everybody’s seen us. They’ve all seen me. They fall silent as I follow the front four Tonton. The back four bring up the rear. The drums beat our way down the ridge. The crowd falls back, clears a path fer us to the hill.

In this broody dawn of torchlight an drums, crow on my shoulder, wolfdog at my side, people ain’t certain if I’m real or not. The Angel of Death. Slayer of kings. She who rides the night with starfallen souls. Superstitious fools, DeMalo called ’em.

A few brave ones dare to dart forwards. To touch her dress. Her boots. The murmur spreads. She’s real. She’s alive. Captured. Conquered by the Pathfinder. Jest like them.

The drums. The spectacle. The crowd. The tang of flesh, sharp with excitement. I feel the hot clench of red start to burn in my belly.

It’s the Cage at Hopetown as I entered to fight. It’s the gauntlet, that snakeroad of drug-crazy hands, eager to pull me apart. It’s Freedom Fields on that midsummer night, with Lugh staked out to burn. It’s the beat beat of fear, the beat of sticks on stones as I came to the Snake River camp.

I look fer any familiar face. Cassie, even Vain Ed the miller. But none do I see. It’s a blur of bodies an torchlight.

DeMalo meets me near the foot of the hill. He’s dressed all in white. Of course. Britches, shirt an cloak. His black hair gleams. His skin’s golden in the torchlight. His face tightens when he sees what I’ve done, what I’m wearin. The rip in the magnificent marriage gown. My armour, my boots, Lugh’s necklace.

My beautiful bride, he says. His smile don’t reach his eyes. You brought your own entourage, I see, he says. I set Nero to fly. I slide down from Hermes. The wolfdog stays here, he says.

A flick of his hand brings a Tonton with a cord. I slip it around Tracker’s neck. Go, I tell him an he’s led away.

Then DeMalo holds out his hand to me. High. With ceremony. I lay my hand in his. He grips it painfully. He turns us so we face the crowd. As the drummers drum an the dawn creeps closer, the Pathfinder an his warrior bride move around the hill slowly. So’s all can look up an admire them.

It wouldn’t be obvious to nobody else. It is to me. DeMalo’s ill at ease. The first time I ever seen him so. You wouldn’t know from the calm of his face. But his eyes keep goin to the sky. To the clouds that tumble an shadow. Even as I wonder why, the answer comes to me. He needs the clear light of dawn fer his miracle. Dawnlight to trigger the Wrecker tech of the white walls. I know he won’t of left this to chance. He will of tested it. Probly more than once. But the master of control ain’t got no control over Mother Earth. When it comes down to it, he’s at her mercy like the rest of us.

DeMalo never loses. He always has a safety net. But not today. The biggest day of all. His whole body’s tense. I feel it through his hand.

Disarm yer opponent if possible.

I look at him. Our eyes meet. I squeeze his hand. Fergive me, I says. The dress is beautiful. I ain’t bin myself the past while.

He nods, distracted. We’ll have our handfasting after the visions, he says.

It’s nearly dawn. The clouds have finally started to move, swept westwards by the wind. The sky behind looks clear.

It’s almost time, he says. As he leads me up the hill, Stewards an Tonton begin to fill its slopes. They want to be close to the show.

Know yer battlefield. Locate yer allies.

Nero’s perched on top of the vision room. My belly tight with nerves, I scan the crowd once more. Then I see them. Down to my right. Off to one side. Tommo, Peg an Webb. They’re guarded by Tonton. Roped at the wrists.

I thought they was in prison till we married, I says.

DeMalo don’t even glance their way. I want them to see this, he says. So they’re left in no doubt whose side you’re on.

By now he’s properly on edge. His eyes fixed to the sky, as the clouds move away. Slowly. Slowly.

You’ll stand at my side, he tells me. We’ve reached the top of the hill. As our hands part, his silver bracelet catches my eye. He goes to git into position in the centre of the white room.

I pause beside a Tonton. I point to Tommo. That prisoner, I says. The boy. The Pathfinder wants him here, right now.

The Tonton pelts off down the hill, shovin his way through the gathered crowd. I wait till I see him seize Tommo an start rushin him up the hill.

I walk into the white room an stand near DeMalo. He’s in the centre, directly beneath the pinhole in the ceilin. He holds the great chunk of clear crystal rock, ready to raise it fer the light to latch on. It ain’t necessary, the walls do the work. But it looks good. Adds to the mystery.

At last it’s a cloudless sky. The marriage-day dawn is on the break. The drumbeats stop. The torches go out. A hush falls. Heavy with anticipation.

Tommo arrives at the top of the hill. Him an the Tonton outta breath from their haste.

The dawnlight’s about to hit the pinhole.

I speak loudly to DeMalo. I have a marriage gift fer you, I says. A bracelet to match the one you wear.

As he glances at me, distracted, I’m givin the nod to the Tonton. He thrusts Tommo forwards into my arms. Tommo looks at me, bewildered. Fergive me, I says.

I grab his roped wrists. I raise them high. I show DeMalo the bracelet. The identical twin of the one he always wears. He stares at it. He looks at Tommo. His face turns ashy pale. Tommo stares at him in shock. At his father, so long believed dead. Father an son. Their likeness is strong. Seen here together, their kinship cain’t be denied.

An the vision has come to the smooth white walls. The bloom of dawn colours. The soft song of birds. The low sweetness of music.

A murmur of unease runs through the crowd. They all know how the visions come to life. The Pathfinder raises his crystal rock to receive them. The visions are playin. But the rock ain’t raised. The Pathfinder’s starin at this boy. Clutchin the rock to his chest. How is it possible? What’s goin on?

Tommo frees hisself from my grip. He takes a step towards DeMalo. Confusion an wonder war on his face.

You said you’d come back, he says. I waited fer you, Pa. I waited an waited. All these years I thought you was dead.

His words ring out among the smooth white walls. Everyone in earshot hears them. Tommo’s voice is rough an hoarse. The unmistakeable voice of a deaf boy.

It’s the Pathfinder’s son! His child! a man calls from somewhere on the hill nearby.

I nearly cry out his name. The surge of relief is so great. I stop myself jest in time. It’s Jack. He’s here. He came after all.

Word spreads. It spreads quickly. Down the hill. Through the meadow. Son? The boy’s deaf. Listen to him speak. It’s his son. The Pathfinder’s son is deaf.

A woman shouts out, The Tonton killed my sister becuz she couldn’t hear!

At the same time, there’s a risin buzz about the visions. The walls play without DeMalo. The grasslands, lush an green. The eagle. The mountains. The herds of beasts roamin the plains.

The visions are fake! It’s Wrecker tech! shouts Jack. He ain’t no Pathfinder. He’s a trickster. A liar.

Nero starts to screech. The crowd erupts to confusion an anger. Some of ’em surge towards us. The Tonton run to form a line. They push back aginst the bodies with their firesticks.

DeMalo ain’t moved. He’s frozen. Blank-faced. Clutchin his chunk of crystal rock.

Speak to me, Pa. What happened? says Tommo. Why didn’t you come back? Look fer me?

Answer yer son, I says. Answer these people. Tell us. We all wanna know.

His face changes. From nuthin to rage. In the split of a second. Wild, black rage. He drops the rock, pulls a knife an lunges at Tommo.

I dive at Tommo too. Knock him to the ground. DeMalo’s knife slashes my arm. Tommo’s back on his feet. DeMalo goes fer him agin.

I seize the crystal rock.

I raise it high.

I smash DeMalo in the head.

One heavy blow to the back of his skull. With the swing of my full weight behind it.

He goes down.

Like a stone.

He don’t move.

I’m on my knees beside him. Feelin fer life. My fingers wet with his blood. His head’s crushed. A mess of hair, blood an bone. Tommo’s with me. He helps to turn him over.

Seth, I says.

He’s dead.

Words need sayin. So I do.

After a moment, I close his eyes. An behold, this day I go the way of all the earth.

There’s silence. From the crowd. From the Tonton. The visions play on. The music plays on. Nero drifts quietly above.

I look at Tommo. I’m so sorry. I didn’t plan that, I says.

He stares down at the father who denied him. He would of killed me, he says. He was ashamed of me. That’s why he left.

I touch Tommo’s face. He had wrong ideas, I says.

Yer arm’s bleedin, he says.

Only now do I remember the knife caught me. The point ripped my sleeve. Sliced my skin, not deep. I’m fine, I says. It ain’t nuthin.

The Tonton ain’t known what to do all this time. Now a couple of ’em move towards us, their guns pointed. They falter. They stop. They turn away.

Becuz there’s somethin happenin. In the meadow below, Stewards cry out. They’re startin to run towards the ridge. Me an Tommo stand slowly. I cain’t believe my eyes.

A tide of people flow down from the ridge. Slaves in their collars. The Snake River folk who went back to the farms. I see Creed an Ash an Slim. There’s Molly an Auriel with the rest of ’em from Nass Camp. Women from the babyhouses with infants in their arms. Many others, Stewards, carry babies as well. People call out as they spot friends an family. They run. They embrace. There’s tears an laughter.

It’s what we wanted. It’s what’s right. I’m glad fer them all. I only wish I could feel it in my heart.

A Tonton grabs me. Shoves a gun in my back. Another Tonton’s grabbed Tommo.

What’s the plan? I says.

Wait fer orders, says my guard.

So we stand there, the four of us, an watch the reunions. Watch as the children from Edenhome run free, lookin fer their brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, anyone at all they know. I cain’t miss Nell’s copper hair. She’s found Webb. Him an Peg are free of their bonds. Deserted by their Tonton guards. An Tracker’s bin set free too. Peg’s got hold of him. She raises her hand when she sees me lookin their way.

When did you know? says Tommo.

I turn my head to find him lookin at me. Not till Edenhome, I says. When I seen yer bracelet. I cain’t believe I didn’t realize before. You are so like him.

If it was Seth’s child I lost, it would have bin brother or sister to Tommo. What a very strange thought that is.

His eyes shift away, then back to me. You called him Seth, he says.

Keep quiet, says my guard.

We’ll talk later, I says.

A few commanders shout orders, but the Tonton’re fallin apart. Some throw down their guns an walk away. Some find theirselfs bein disarmed by Creed an Ash, Vain Ed an other Stewards. They don’t put up no resistance.

Tommo’s guard spots a Tonton commander walkin up the hill in our direction. Sir! he shouts. Prisoners here, sir. Awaitin orders.

The Tonton commander is Jack.

As he comes towards us, he says, Release all prisoners an stand down.

Stand down, sir? says my guard.

That’s the order, he says. We’re disbanded. This is over. No more Tonton. As Jack speaks, he throws off his black cloak. Unbuckles his weapons belt. If yer amenable to society, he says, there might be a place fer you here in New Eden. There’s a man down there’ll tell you what comes next, what you hafta do. His name’s Salmo Slim. You cain’t miss him.

They hesitate, jest fer a moment. Then they’re gone without further ado.

Tommo’s already got Jack by the hand. I might of known you wouldn’t stay dead fer long, he says. Then, with a glance at the two of us, he heads down the hill.

He didn’t ask about Emmi or Lugh. He must be able to see it in me.

An we’re alone. Me an Jack. With Seth lyin a few foot away. We don’t look at him. We move outta the room an a few steps down the slope. The noise of celebration fills the mornin air. The late autumn sun shines bright. There ain’t a cloud in the blue blue sky.

We stand a little bit apart.

The day’s turned out fine after all, says Jack.

I’m sure I got you to thank fer all this, I says. I didn’t know what I was gonna do. Thank you.

You set it all goin, he says. Once it got started, it was amazin how quick it went. Like a runaway horse. I had to hold it back some. We needed the … what did you call it? The big gawdamn rumble. You gave us that, no question. Talk about wingin it, though. That was hairy, even by my standards. But you did it. I didn’t … really believe it would work. I would never of thought of it. Congratulations.

I nod at the scene below us. It’s them you need to congratulate, I says.

We’re talkin as if we’re two strangers.

He turns to look at the walls of the vision room behind us. Silent now. Jest white walls. Nuthin more.

You was in this room with him, he says. In the bunker. Before you an me went together. That’s how you knew about the light. His eyes go to DeMalo. Then to me. You owe me the truth, he says.

It was when I believed you’d turned aginst us, I says. You was at Darktrees. You sent me back the heartstone. I didn’t unnerstand why, you know that. An then you took Emmi an Lugh warn’t there an—I was in a bad way. I fell, Jack. I didn’t wanna be caught, but he caught me. He was the only one there. He saved my life an—

I cain’t look at him.

Jack’s silent. You did ask how I’d feel if you’d bin with somebody else, he says. I had no idea you meant him.

It got very … complicated, I says.

I can only imagine, he says.

I’m jest about to say somethin. I dunno what. Maybe

I never loved him, I love you, always you, can you ever fergive me fer my lies an deceit

but a horde of people come rushin up the hill. Ash an Creed an Slim an Molly. An Tommo agin. An Cassie. There’s Webb an Ruth an their coppernob Nell. An Vain Ed the miller an JB, the very last Treedog. I’m grabbed by them an swept away down the hill in a wave of celebration an laughter. Come on, Jack! cries Molly. Come with us!

I look back but he’s already gone.