by Tim Lebbon
What’s inside? Peer had asked.
Alexia had shaken her head softly. Best just to see.
They soon entered another building, and the three Unseen laughed and chatted like old friends.
Alexia smiled at Peer and the others and said, “We have a lot to thank you for.”
“And you know how to show that thanks,” Malia said. She was tied to a tall man, his face still beaming from being noticed. In the streets, a group of children had pointed and laughed at his unruly mop of ginger hair, and he’d ruffled it up to make them giggle more. Even the children’s guardian had seemed unconcerned, so open and innocent was the tall man’s delight.
“The basement of this place has an entrance to a tunnel,” Alexia said. “We’ve used it before, and we keep a stockpile of oil torches inside. We’ll be going down into the dark, then beneath the border through the first Echo.”
“More darkness,” Peer said. “More caves and torches. And the sun’s only just come up.”
“Hopefully it won’t take long,” Alexia said.
“They guard these places?” Malia asked.
“Most of them, yes. But there are cracks and crevices and old paths that even the Dragarians don’t know.” She smiled at Malia’s obvious doubt. “Trust me. This will be our last time Unseen, and now we want to live as much as anyone.”
The three Unseen faded from view, their faces masks of concentration, and the short man connected to Peer looked wretched as he slipped away. It won’t be long, she wanted to say, but he had yet to speak a word to her. Communicating now, just as he was vanishing, seemed wrong.
Nophel watched them fade, and for an instant he shimmered in and out of focus. He caught Peer watching him and smiled.
“You can …?” she asked, and Nophel nodded.
“Alexia told me,” he said. “She’s been Unseen for so long, her sense of self has distanced. If I view myself as others see me, not how I see myself …” He flickered in and out of focus again, and the power before her scared Peer more than ever.
Unseen once again, they went down. Nophel and Alexia left first, and Nophel kept himself visible so that Peer and Malia could follow him. Peer and the thin man were next, and behind her she heard the gentle footsteps of the tall ginger man as he led Malia.
Through an extensive basement, into tunnels, and then caverns, Peer and the others followed people they could not see into a place they could not imagine. Dragar’s Canton had been hidden away from the rest of Echo City for more than five hundred years, and though there were written accounts about what it had been like before the concealment—a normal place, with buildings similar to those throughout the city, ruled by priests of the generally benevolent Dragarian religion—no one knew for sure what had become of it since. There had been conjecture for a while, and sometimes there still was, but it had become a silent part of the city, forgotten by most because it was as distant and unknown as the Markoshi Desert. An enigma on their doorstep, Penler had called it once, and he should know. His book about the Dragarians had resulted in his banishment, but even he knew little. It was a book of legends and myths, considered insidious because so few knew even them, he’d told Peer once over a bottle of wine. The most amazing place in the city, and nobody thinks about it. It’s just the six domes, that’s all. They’re regarded as sculptures now. Even kids don’t dare one another to go out there and stand close to them anymore, because it’s boring. Nothing can happen. Nothing ever does. At least, not that we see. Pushed by Peer, tongue loosened by more wine, he’d smiled and leaned back, staring at the cracked ceiling of his adopted home in Skulk. The Dragarians can’t be fools, he’d said. They’ll want to know what the rest of the city is doing. They might be closed off from us, but we’re no mystery to them.
And we’re going there now, Peer thought. Penler would be jealous. He should be here with me. And she swore to herself that given even the slightest opportunity, she would see her old friend again to tell him everything she knew.
Down in the first Echo of Crescent’s northern extremes, they found themselves crossing a dead landscape eerily similar to that which surrounded the Baker’s rooms. It was strange being led by the Unseen, the string Peer held wound around her hand connected to nothing. The far end faded slowly. She shone her torch ahead and it illuminated nothing, swallowed by shadow where the short man must be. Nophel had told them that the Blue Water acted on the mind of the observer, and she wondered what that meant if the Unseen did not even deflect light. The word magic crossed her mind again, but she was a pragmatist, and the term held connotations she could never entertain.
It was a wide-open Echo, apparently flat, and they followed a trail north that must have been well used in times gone by. The track marks were deep, and here and there they were flooded with dark, thick water. Peer was certain she saw ripples in the puddles, but no one else seemed to notice.
They walked quickly, covering several miles to the canton’s border without incident. She glanced back at Malia several times, but they exchanged nothing more than a gentle, nervous smile. Perhaps talking through someone was too much for both of them.
Eventually Nophel paused, head tilted to one side, and then said, “We have to extinguish the torches from here.”
“It’ll be black as the Chasm!” Malia said.
“The Unseen will lead the way.”
Peer doused her torch and watched its pilot light fade slowly away. Malia grumbled but did the same, and moments later it was utterly dark. Eyes open or closed, Peer could see nothing, and she felt the gentle tug on her string. Here we go, she thought, realizing just how much they were trusting Nophel and, in turn, the Unseen. None of them seemed to have any love for the city. Rufus was possible salvation, but to them he might be simply another dispossessed, another wanderer of dark places whom they cared about as little as they seemed to care about anyone.
They could slit her throat at any moment, or steal her torch and cut her loose. But worrying could not help her now.
She followed and discovered that, with sight taken from her, her ears became more sensitive. Whereas before she had not been able to hear the short man’s footsteps, now she could just hear the subtle, gritty whisper of his feet crossing the ground. He seemed aware of this, because the string slackened, and she found herself following only the confident steps of that invisible man.
Then things began to change. Their breathing became more audible, and the sense of distance around them was replaced by a feeling of intense solidity. When Peer turned her head slowly from side to side, her hearing changed, though standing still she was not sure she could hear anything. She reached out and touched rock, and a sharp tug on her string urged her forward. Still walking, two more quick tugs sent her a definite message: Keep to yourself. Wherever they were, the Unseen must be afraid.
Trying to regulate her breathing, Peer concentrated on following her guide. They kept the string quite taut again, which meant that he’d gone on ahead of her, and at the beginning she found it difficult to step forward with any confidence. She could walk into a wall, or a hole, or a Dragarian waiting to slice and kill. But if that happened, they were all discovered. Besides, there was little she could do to change the situation. If she lit her torch, she would give them all away. She was down here for Rufus, and for everyone else. For the first time in a while, she wondered where Gorham was and what he was doing, and she hoped that he was safe.
She would never have believed that blindness would inspire timelessness, but when Nophel’s torch flared alight ahead of her and he signaled that they could do the same, she had no idea how much time had passed. She had little opportunity to find out. The curtain before them took her breath away, and any other thoughts fled her mind.
At first she thought it was fire, but of course she would have seen it long before now. Stretching up into the darkness above them, beyond the reach of her torch, the curtain was a shimmering, moving thing, rustling in an absent breeze. It could have been water, but she heard no splashing
or pouring. It could have been metal, but surely it would have clanged and creaked where it bent and moved so much?
“What the fuck is that?” Malia said softly.
“We’re beneath the canal,” Nophel said. “When the Dragarians dug that, they were working down here also. Alexia says …” He drifted off, listening to a voice Peer could not hear. “She says they worked deep down through the Echoes, cutting even their history off from our own. Different barriers in each Echo. This is one of the hardest to get through, but also the quickest.”
“But what is it?” Peer asked, unable to keep the quaver from her voice. There was something unnatural about the way this curtain moved before them, almost as if …
“Looks like it’s alive,” Malia said.
Alexia appeared before them, fading into existence and frowning in concentration or pain. Maybe it does hurt, Peer thought, and she surprised herself by hoping that it did.
“Not alive like anything we’d understand,” the Unseen said. She sighed, rubbed at her face, then turned toward the barrier. “It’s soul-fire. That’s what we call it, anyway. I’m not sure it has any other name, don’t even know whether the Dragarians have named it. Probably not. They just made it and placed it here.”
“What does it do?” Peer asked, already filled with dread.
“Doesn’t matter,” Malia said. “We just need to get through.”
“It steals your soul if you touch it,” Alexia said, smiling. “But it doesn’t kill you. Leaves you walking. There are several Unseen, on this side or the other, existing without a soul because of that … thing.”
“How can that be?” Peer said quietly, almost to herself. It was a dreadful idea, fantastic, and something she had never heard of before.
“We know the way through,” Alexia said. “All you have to do is follow.”
“And you found the route how?” Malia asked.
“Trial and error.”
“And the wandering soulless are your errors?”
“No, they’re their own. Do you want to find this Rufus or not?”
“Of course,” Nophel said. “We’re working together, and there has to be trust.” Peer nodded at him, but his single good eye could not convey any such emotion. It moved from sad to pained and back again, and she had rarely seen any other expression. She wondered what it must be like holding all that inside.
“Keep the strings short and taut,” Alexia said, as she frowned and faded again. She closed her eyes as she went, and Peer wondered whether she was praying.
It struck her that she knew none of the Unseen’s religious allegiances. Originally Scarlet Blades, they would have been raised Hanharan, steeped in that religion from a very early age and sermonized regularly once they were initiated into the Blades. And even three years ago, Alexia had worked against the Watchers, leading to Peer’s imprisonment and torture. But since their transformation, surely much would have changed.
Now was not the time to ask. Indeed, if there had ever been a time, it was long past.
They approached the soul-fire. Peer concentrated, watching the tight string before her, turning left when it veered that way and then heading straight into the shimmering curtain. It stank of a baby’s skin and a rash-plague sufferer’s final breath. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, and—
The faces scream and rage, their pain illimitable, the shrieks beyond any contemplation of sanity, and they surge around her like walls of stone flowing as fluid, always threatening to crush her, squeeze the air from her lungs, suck the blood from her veins, and she opens her mouth to scream but can taste only the soul-fire, rancid things, and fine grapes.
Why didn’t you tell us? she thought, and then they were through. She went to her knees and heard Nophel’s groan ahead of her, but her string quickly pulled taut.
“You could have warned us,” she said, but if the Unseen responded, she did not hear. He tugged at the string and she stood, glancing back at Malia’s pale face behind her.
“Well, that was nice,” Malia gasped. Behind her, the soul-fire made no sound as it fell and burned.
They moved on, their Unseen guides not pausing. The ground headed upward, steepening sharply. They followed the slope, then at some unknown signal turned left, approaching a wall of rock that loomed from the darkness like the edge of the world.
Nophel glanced back over his shoulder and whispered, “Sometimes guards, sometimes not. She’ll go ahead to see.” His string relaxed and the end hit the ground, and Peer saw his head move slightly as he watched Alexia’s progress.
She returned quickly, manifesting again as she walked and sighing when she stopped, resting her hands on her knees for a moment.
“Sick?” Peer asked.
“Been running,” she said, but she was not out of breath. “It’s quiet. But beyond the wall, some of their things keep watch. You have your swords?”
“What things?” Malia asked.
“Like hounds, except slower. Blind. Don’t let them bite you.” Alexia looked at where the other two Unseen would be standing. She gave a quick hand signal, then started to fade again.
“What was that?” Peer asked. “Alexia?” But the Unseen was already moving away, then she disappeared completely, the end of Nophel’s string grasped in her hand. “Nophel?” Peer asked.
“Just telling them to keep watch,” he said. “As must we all.”
The gap in the stone wall was obvious only when they drew very close and she saw the end of Nophel’s string pass inside. He followed, and then Peer was in as well, walls brushing both arms as the path narrowed even further. She held the torch in the same hand as her string and tried to reach her sword, but the little man pulled her on, and she could not turn enough between those sheer walls to draw her weapon.
From ahead, she heard a quiet, strangled shout. Nophel’s torch danced about, then extinguished altogether.
“Here!” he shouted. “Peer!”
She ran, shoving the Unseen man aside and bursting from the short tunnel. Nophel was on the ground with a black creature standing over him, its jaws wide as it lowered its head toward his throat. As Peer was reaching for her sword, it screamed, darting its jaw to the right at the wound that had suddenly opened in its flank. Alexia withdrew her sword and buried it in the creature’s shoulder. Nophel slid aside as the creature dropped dead.
“You all right?” Peer asked, and he nodded sharply.
“Watch for yourself,” he said, standing. She did, shining the torch around as the end of her string led her forward again. She smiled uncertainly, hoping that if he was looking, the short man would see it as an apology.
Several shadowy shapes stalked them. Malia’s small crossbow sang, a thud and a whine signifying a hit. Two more creatures came at Nophel and Peer. She gripped her sword hard and then stepped aside. The first thing snapped at where she’d been standing, and she swept the blade down across the back of its neck. It stuck fast in the thing’s flesh, driving it to the ground. It died without a whimper.
Malia’s crossbow whispered again, and then the things were dead.
“That wasn’t too hard,” Malia said.
“Alexia says there are usually Dragarians controlling them,” Nophel said. “This is the first time she’s heard of them being loose down here.”
They moved on, heading upward through carved tunnels and encountering no more obstacles. Several times Alexia called a halt while she explored ahead, but the Unseen never found anything to concern them. At one point she and Nophel had a whispered conversation, which he relayed back to Peer and Malia.
“She’s never known it so quiet down here. We’re taking one of the main routes in from the Echoes. Usually the Unseen go in other directions, passing through guarded caverns or traps. But there are no traps set, and she’s seen no guards.”
“Which means what?” Peer asked.
“It means they don’t care anymore,” Malia said. Peer closed her eyes as a shiver went through her, and when she looked again, Nophel was listen
ing to Alexia’s unheard words once more.
“We’re almost there,” he said. “A few hundred steps and we’ll be able to see inside the first dome.”
“And what’s in there?” Peer asked, but Alexia apparently did not respond. Nophel headed off with his string taut before him. Peer and Malia followed, and for the first time Peer smelled something that could be described as fresh air. It carried the mouthwatering hint of baking bread, and she realized just how hungry she was. Dragarian food, she thought. Might not agree. But they had been removed from the world for only five hundred years.
How different could they be?
Alexia brought them up into the bed of a dried canal, hiding them where it passed into an area of raised ground piled against the inside of the dome. Here they could sit and watch with impunity, taking time to observe, to see, to understand.
And to wonder.
In enclosing their land, the Dragarians had made themselves aware of the air. Much of the ground that Peer could see seemed to have been abandoned—tall buildings had tumbled, and lower structures were fallen into disrepair. Windows were smashed and doors broken from hinges. The Dragarians had started building up and out, and from where they squatted she could see no large expanses of open space inside the dome. Elaborate bridges spanned between buildings that seemed to hang in midair. Rope ladders rose and fell. Networks of cables were strung at apparently random angles and places, and directly above where they hid she could see dozens of cables fixed into the inner surface of the dome structure. The wall curved inward above them, and it was encrusted with hundreds of small structures, many of them interlinked by walkways and bridges. Windows stared out upon the space, and lights flickered in some.
It was not dark inside. Great swaths of the dome were left clear of fixtures, and sunlight somehow shone through. Peer had no idea how. There had never been talk of the domes having differing materials in their structures—no glass sections, no area that appeared to slide open and closed as the sun rose and set—and yet here it was, warm fresh sunlight streaming inside and bathing the interior. It even found its way down to the ground, courtesy of the mirrored finish to many of the hanging structures.
