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A Letter from Bakir to Brencis
Predictably the rebel rats make mischief, Bakir writes — yet they are mere mortals, yapping for notice like curs, and his troops ran a few to ground and hanged them right merrily.
The manumits face imminent cinders, a lesson to would-be liberators. Of the slippery Crake, Bakir boasts warm trails and pledges to fetch the head himself — spiked, and wreathed in blossoms.