Tim Lebbon: Echo city

He passed through the guarded gate into Hanharan Heights when it was opened to allow a group of Marcellans to exit. He recognized them-three members of the Council-and none of them had ever spoken to him. He'd always been a subject of their disdain. It was good to see terror in their eyes.

His journey from the gates to the viewing room was a blur of pain and darkness. Many oil lamps in the Heights had been extinguished, and the halls and corridors were all but deserted. They'll be in the Inner Halls, he thought. Praying to their Hanharan god, hiding in his First Echo, begging for help, mercy, and salvation. Lot of good that will do them.

In his viewing room, the mirror was cracked but not shattered. There were bloodstains across the floor where a body had been dragged. His father's actions, perhaps, but he no longer cared. All he cared about was seeing that small group on their way and seeing his mother one more time. His offer of help had been quickly accepted, and he had shushed her concerns about him remaining in the city. I'll soon be gone, he'd said; I'd rather the time I have left is well spent.

He tweaked the controls, but there was no reaction-no views of the city and no signs of life. Nophel groaned and went on, heading for the fifty stairs that would take him to the roof. Don't stop, he thought, keep moving on, and he felt the fresh slick of warm blood across his chest.

The Scopes were silent, awaiting his return and his tender touch. He went to the Western Scope and looked out over the city, scanning the tumultuous streets and wondering where Rose and the others were now. His arms itched, and when he scratched, he reopened the shallow wounds.

"Not long now," he said. "Not long, and I'll be able to help." He shooed away birds that were pecking at the Scope's eyes, washed fluid from its tense body, eased chains, and scooped handfuls of balm, working it into the folds around the Scope's head and neck. Leaving the roof, he looked back at the other three Scopes and felt a pang of deep guilt at not tending them as well. But the city had ceased being his concern. There was only one way left for him to look.

Back in the viewing room, he relaxed in his chair with a gasp, his vision swimming, arms and chest bleeding. And then he laid his hands on the controls and started his search.

Rose paused and closed her eyes again, and this time she smiled softly. "South of Six Step Bridge," she whispered, "at the junction of two roads."

Peer turned and looked up through the haze of smoke at Hanharan Heights, far to the northeast. She imagined one of those giant Scopes up there, extending its neck and turning its monstrous eye, and that brought a brief, unexpected memory of her mother. Long dead now. Peer wondered what she would think of her daughter. She thought she would be proud.

"And I see you," Rose said. She looked at the others, still smiling softly, and nodded. "We can move faster now," she said. "Nophel can see our way for us, warn us of dangers, and guide us along the easiest route to Skulk."

"How can you talk to him?" Peer asked, but Gorham touched her arm and rolled his eyes. "Oh," she said, quieter. "Baker stuff."

As they moved on, Rose was muttering to herself, an ongoing conversation with a man no longer there. Constant vibrations were rising through their feet, and as they entered the heavily built-up southern half of Course Canton, there were fewer and fewer unbroken windows. Glass speckled the ground, crunching underfoot. They passed a burning house. People ran, some screamed, and there were more bodies. Could fear drive so many to this? Peer wondered. Was Echo City really built on such a thin crust? They came to a place where a building had collapsed across the road, blocking their route completely. A few people were digging with their bare hands, calling names as they searched for buried loved ones. Peer wanted to stop and help, but Rose steered them through an abandoned house and emerged in a small herb garden, climbed a wall, and veered left into a narrow, deserted alleyway. Still muttering, her arms still bleeding, the girl seemed hardly there.

They followed Rose through gardens and squares, wide streets and narrow alleys, and even though all around them they heard the sounds of chaos, they seemed to travel in a bubble of calm. Nophel steered them away from trouble and urged them south, as quickly and as safely as he could. Peer was humbled by the trust the Baker placed in that poor, brave man.

Everything Peer saw-every scene of random violence, goodwill, or heart-wrenching tragedy-brought home to her more and more that the city was at an end. When the Vex arrived, everything would change. The four of them bore the responsibility of ensuring that there was a future for some.

Gorham was keeping her strong. He was a constant presence beside her, and whenever she glanced aside he always seemed to be looking at her. There must be such a desperate need for forgiveness in him, but now he projected only strength and confidence.

The bags of bloodflies twitched and moved, a sickening sensation but one that drove her forward. We can release them soon, she thought. Soon. And then whatever this new, young Baker had done to the flies would be out there, and there would be only one way to find out whether they had worked.

She thought back to the day she had first seen Rufus coming in across the desert. Even rushing across to him and back again, she'd been reticent. Will I be able to step out into that desert? Will any of us? And then she realized that the decider would not be what might lie ahead but what was behind.

The streets and parks became more crowded the farther south they went. Many people had started the journey but ended it in a tavern or parkland, perhaps losing the urgency that Gorham's message had implanted in them or maybe just deciding that whatever was coming offered no escape. The Hanharans among them-most of them, she realized, because indoctrination was one of the Marcellans' greatest powers-would be praying silently to their deep prophet, asking him for salvation were they to die that day. Children cried and parents bustled, but there was a surreal air to the whole scene.

"Don't they realize what's happening?" Peer asked.

"How can they?" Gorham said. "The ground shakes, and that has happened before."

"Never to this extent. The fallen buildings. The fires."

"Most of the fires are started by people," he said.

After a while Rose guided them to a park where dozens of standing stones had been raised to signify important points in the city's history. It was called the Learning Fields, but today thousands of people were passing the stones without a second glance. Peer had come here once on a school trip when she was ten years old-a three-day journey, across the city and back to Mino Mont, that had opened her eyes to the rest of their world. The day spent touring the Learning Fields and being lectured by the historians who had made this place their life was one of the fondest memories of her childhood. Passing the rocks now only made her sad, because she could feel the rich history of Echo City being forgotten already. She wondered how many Echoes were left untouched below this place and whether any of them were even there anymore.

At the far edge of the Learning Fields, they found the long street before them thronged with people. They looked for another way around, but neighboring thoroughfares were equally jammed.

"Nophel says the streets are all like this between here and Skulk," Rose said.

"There's no way around?" Gorham asked. "No route through or below the buildings?"

"Even his Scopes can't see through walls."

"How far are we from the Skulk border?" Gorham asked.

"A mile," Peer said. "Perhaps less."

"The Border Spites won't let people through," Alexia said. "They're mean bastards."