Tim Lebbon - Echo city

Behind them, the sounds of death: screaming and hissing, shouts and screeches, the harsh impacts of violence, and the meaty thunks! of swords meeting flesh and bone. But Peer could not turn to see any of this, because Malia was dying.

The arrow had barely opened her skin, and the blood flow was slight. But it must have been dipped in poison, because the Watcher woman was thrashing on the ground, foaming at the mouth, and clasping Peer's hand so tightly her that Peer could feel her bones grinding together.

"Hold on!" Peer pleaded, but Malia could not hear. She'd dropped her torch and it shone ahead of them, casting only a small portion of its light across Malia's face. For that, Peer was glad. She had seen many people in pain before and had witnessed some dying in agony. But this seemed worse than any.

"K… k… k…" Malia choked, and one of her hands shifted quickly to the back of Peer's head. She pulled, and much as Peer resisted, she was no match for Malia's strength.

More screaming came from behind them as the Scarlet Blades fought with the Dragarians. The reasons and implications were far from her right now.

"Kill… me," Malia groaned, the effort immense. She let go of Peer and started to shake again, limbs and head pummeling against the ground, and the foam around her mouth grew darker. She was keening now, an unconscious sound of utter distress, and Peer screamed to try to drown it out.

Her short sword was on the ground next to Malia. Its blade was keen, its point sharp. With all her weight on the handle, it would take less than a beat to pierce Malia's heart and end her pain, but…

Peer grabbed the sword and stood, turning to view the violence behind her. She could make little sense of it-torchlight flickered here and there, illuminating a scene of confusion. Bodies darted and fell, the smells of blood and shit filled the air, and the screams were louder than any she could utter. Because I'm not dying, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut.

When she looked again, something was coming for her.

It flew, large diaphanous wings flapping rapidly in the confined space of this Echo, and it carried something in its hands-the curved shape recognizable as it drew closer.

Bow! she thought, leaping to the side, but Peer knew she could never dodge the arrow.

The flying thing squealed and fell, thrashing on the ground as it tried to dislodge a crossbow bolt from its underside. She never saw the man or woman who shot it.

"Peer!" Malia gurgled, hand closing around her ankle. She pulled, and Peer knelt at her side again. "S-send me… to… Bren."

"I…" Peer said, but then Penler whispered in her mind, words he'd said to her soon after her arrival in Skulk. You're far from a coward, he'd told her as she hugged a bottle of cheap wine, wallowing in self-pity.

She picked up her sword and rested it against Malia's chest. The Watcher woman tensed, controlling her spasms. And though blood still bubbled from her mouth and her eyes rolled with agony, the corner of her mouth turned up in her familiar half-smile.

Peer reared up, crossed her hands on the sword's hilt, and then dropped her weight on top of it.

Malia grunted once and then died.

Panic took Peer. She withdrew the sword, picked up the torch, and ran, fleeing the scenes and sounds of battle, the stench of death, the violence that seemed to stain the very air she breathed. And she craved the fresh air of reality, away from these past times that still echoed with chaos.

He had told her everything and named her Rose. It was his mother's name. Then she had fallen asleep, leaning her head against his shoulder, twitching, and mumbling things he could not understand. While she slept he smelled her hair, and she did not smell like Nadielle. He touched the skin on her face, and she carried a different coolness. He stared into the softened gloom of the Baker's rooms and wondered where Nadielle was, what she was doing, but any possibility that crossed his mind was a bad one.

The girl did not sleep for very long. When she stirred, Gorham was surprised to find that he had drifted off and her movements startled him awake. He'd believed that he was still awake, watching the walls of the Baker's rooms as they expanded and contracted beneath the breath and beat of her far-reaching influence. But seeing the solid walls again, he realized the flexibility of his dreaming. She'll never leave me alone, he thought as he surfaced, and the girl rolled from the bed and stretched.

There was a long, loaded moment when she looked slowly around the room. Gorham sat with breath held, watching the girl watching the room, and she had changed again. Grown older, he thought, though there was something not quite right about that. When her gaze swung back to him at last, he realized-her dreams had been her work, and waking had been the inspiration she needed.

"There's lots to do," she said. "Will you help?"

"Of course. I'm more than just a book."

The girl smiled, then scratched at her arms. The dried stuff of her birth flaked off and drifted to the floor. "I need to wash first," she said. "While I'm doing that, perhaps you can prepare some food?"

"Yes," Gorham said, feeling no qualms whatsoever about taking orders from a child.

While Rose bathed, Gorham rooted through the Baker's cold room to see what food was left. Whatever means she'd had of procuring fresh food must have gone with her, because the remains of older foodstuffs were all he could find. The dried meats and cheeses were still edible, and the sliced mepple fruits, though softening, were far from rotten. He prepared a few plates and left them on the table, and when Rose emerged in some of Nadielle's fresh clothes-the trouser legs and shirtsleeves rolled up to accommodate her smaller frame-they sat together to eat. The girl was distracted, staring intently at a plate of dried meat while her mind worked, and Gorham was careful not to interrupt. Finally, each of them nursing a glass of Echo City's finest wine, she started to talk.

"She cannot stop the Vex," she said. "She knows that."

"You can…?" Gorham began, remembering the effect upon Nadielle when Neph had faced the Vex way, way beneath them.

"No," she said, "but it's obvious in her action. She chopped me as her successor, so she knew the end was close. She knew there were important things for you to tell me, which you have. And the Bakers don't…"

"Not unless they know they're about to die."

"Bakers have rarely coexisted." She stared into her glass. "She'll give us as much time as she can, but there's no telling how much that will be. We have to act quickly. But there are many assumptions. This Rufus has to be found."

"He will be."

"And brought here to me."

"He will be."

"You sound certain, but you can't be. You can only assume."

"Malia and Peer won't stop looking until they find him."

"In a city of countless people." The little girl drained her glass with the action of a seasoned drinker, sighing and licking her lips.

"He stands out," Gorham said carefully. Is she already so pessimistic? Was she born this way?

"Well, assume they do bring him," Rose said. "I'll then have work to do. And though I have ideas about what that is, there will be much preparation." She was talking more quietly now, as if to herself, looking around the room, searching for someone else.

"And what about me?"

"You?" She stared at Gorham again, her eyes piercing and intelligent. Her mother used to look at him like that. A city of countless people, and that's far too small for you, he thought.

"Do you want me to…?" he said, waving vaguely at the books, the papers.

"I want you to help save the people of Echo City," she said softly. "I have ways and means for you to get your word out there. You still have networks? Watchers ready to spread information, should the need arise?"