Echo City (23 page)

So are your eyes, but people don’t dig them up
.

She nodded for a while, staring at him, until finally she said,
It’s all about having something for yourself
.

“I have something for you,” she says, producing a silvered metal flask from her pocket.

“One of your magic drinks?” he asks.

“It’s
not
magic!” she says, almost spitting. Her sudden anger could have frightened him—but he knows she will never do anything to harm her son. She loves him. “It’s only magic because people don’t understand it, that’s all, and people are
scared
of what they don’t understand. They have to give it names to protect themselves from it.” She holds him hard, staring into his eyes, and he thinks,
She really wants me to listen
. This is how she speaks when she has a lesson to teach. “People try, but they never get it right. I know how to do it, because of … knowledge passed down to me. If you’d known my mother, and hers, you’d understand. But this is
not
magic.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“If anything, it’s a curse.” She looks past him at the thing approaching across the desert. “A curse on me, and a curse on …”

“Mother?”

“You,” she whispers. Then she uncorks the flask, holds the back of his head, and tips it to his lips. He drinks, because she wants him to and she’d never do anything to hurt him. And as he sits on the cold wet stone, watches the huge lumbering thing walking in from the desert, and sees his mother going out to greet it, something starts to happen.

First he forgets his name.

   “Grab his hands!” Peer shouted, and when Gorham did so she felt that she was taking control. She held Rufus’s head still, whispering and soothing, and when he opened his eyes at last he looked lost. There was nothing there—no knowledge of where or even who he was. Then he focused on Peer, and she felt the fear slowly draining from him.

“I forgot my name,” he said.

“I called you Rufus.”

“Rufus. That’s not my name.”

“I know,” she said sadly. “Maybe the Baker can help you remember.”

“The Baker … she’s …” He squeezed his eyes closed again, but the thrashing and scratching did not return.

“What’s wrong with him?” Gorham asked, speaking as if Rufus wasn’t even there. Peer glared at him without answering.

“Someone’s coming,” Malia said. She was standing several steps away from them, staring into the darkness in the direction in which the Pseran had disappeared.

“Her?” Peer asked.

“I doubt it,” Gorham said. “She rarely leaves her laboratories.”

“How many times have you been down here?” Peer asked.

Gorham glanced at her and away again, off into the darkness. “A few,” he said.

A shape emerged from the shadows—the naked Pseran walking smoothly toward them. She was both beautiful and monstrous, and Peer wondered what else she would see that day.

“The Baker will see you,” she said, and Peer noticed that
she was looking only at Rufus. There was a slight smile on her face but also a creasing of the brow, which could indicate confusion—or fear.

“Which way—” Peer began.

“Gorham knows.” The Pseran drifted in closer to Rufus, circled him once, and then, without another word spoken or a glance at any of them, she disappeared into the Echo once again.

“Come on,” Gorham said, and he led them from the track and across ancient fields.

Peer walked behind Rufus, trying to keep her eye on his back but finding herself distracted by what they were walking across. She had never been able to envision whole landscapes of dead fields and gentle hills cut off from the sun and sky like this. It seemed unnatural, and walking across ruts tooled into the ground generations ago made her sad.

“Here,” Gorham said. He stood before a door cast into a steep hillside, the stark gray stumps of old trees stubbling the ground all around.

Rufus took a deep breath.

“Are you all right?” Peer asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Hungry.”

“Good,” Gorham said, and his smile seemed genuine. “The Baker always has a feast to hand.” He pushed the door open and entered, and Peer followed the others into a new world.

   She had never imagined anything like this. She’d heard tales of the old Baker and her incredible warehouse laboratory and how the Scarlet Blades had destroyed it all twenty years ago. The Watchers had always held the Baker as one of their own, though even before her banishment, Peer had known the lie in that. The Baker was unique, last in a long line of freak geniuses among Echo City’s scientists, experimenters, and charlatans. At least, most of Echo City
believed
she was the last.

And now here Peer was, about to meet the Baker’s daughter.

Really?
she thought.
Daughter?
This woman had been chopped, not born. Grown in one of the womb vats she saw
in the huge room before her, or one very much like them. Created, somehow, by her mother’s strange art.

The vats were huge and bulbous. They seemed to cast shadows where the many oil lamps should shine. Moisture trickled down their sides and splashed on the stone ground, and when it hit it took on a sickly viscosity, spreading red as blood before slipping into floor drains. Pipes and tubes hung overhead, converging and spreading again from several points where cogs turned, gears scraped, and steam escaped from vents and flues. The steam fell instead of rising, dispersing to the air and giving the whole room a heavy, humid atmosphere.

The closest vat was a dozen steps away. Peer could hear noises from inside—mewling, scratching, and a grumbling so low that, rather than hear it, she felt it low in her guts.

“Gorham …” she began, but her old lover had already walked on ahead. There was a woman standing beside one of the vats, tending to an array of tools laid out on a wide table before her. She glanced up at Gorham’s approach, offered him a half smile, looked beyond him, caught Peer’s eye … and then she saw Rufus and dropped the curved metallic tool she’d been holding. The noise as it struck the table and clattered to the ground brought home the relative silence of that place. This was not a noisy factory but a quiet laboratory, its processes proceeding with a calm confidence.

“Who are you?” Rufus asked, and Peer noticed a change in him. It was as if he were a held breath, and with every glance around that amazing chamber he was about to scream.

“My name is Nadielle,” the woman said. She was quite short and unassuming, but as Peer walked close to meet Nadielle, she sensed the power in her. Nadielle’s eyes were fixed on their tall visitor, her mouth working slowly as if chewing words she could not utter.

“This is Rufus Kyuss,” Peer said.

“Named after a god,” Nadielle said.

Rufus remained tense, glancing from the Baker to those vats and back again.

“You’re the new Baker?” Peer asked.

“New?” Nadielle glanced at Peer, her eyes instantly harsh and threatening.

“Yes,” Peer said. She did her best to hold the woman’s gaze and silently thanked Gorham when he spoke.

“This is Peer Nadawa,” he said.

“Oh,” Nadielle said. And she smiled.
A smile?
Peer thought.
As if she knows my name
. And then she saw the way Gorham was looking at the Baker, and she understood all at once.
Oh, Gorham, after all this time you could have warned me
.

“This man says he’s from beyond Echo City,” Malia said. “He says he walked in across the Bonelands. Peer was at the city wall in Skulk, and she found him. Brought him to us.”

“From out of Skulk?” Nadielle asked. The surprise had gone from her face now, and she was hiding her excitement from the others well. Peer could see that.

“A friend helped me,” Peer said. “It’s not as difficult as you’d think.”

“Oh, I know that,” Nadielle said. She glanced at Rufus again, then turned her back on all of them. “You’ll be hungry,” she said quietly, before heading past the vats toward a door in the far corner. “If I’d known you were coming—”

“Nadielle!” Gorham said. “This is
important!”

“Yes,” she said, looking back over her shoulder as she walked. “It is. So what better way to discuss the end of Echo City than over a feast?”

Nadielle passed through the door without saying anything else, and Gorham looked nervously at Peer. But she could not find it in her heart to hate him anymore.

They entered a chaotic room where tables and benches were strewn with all manner of equipment and containers. A strange smell hung in the air, but Peer could not identify it. She saw Rufus sniffing, his nostrils flaring, his eyes half closed as he took in the scent. He saw her watching and smiled.

“That’s not her,” he said softly, and as Peer started to ask what he meant, Nadielle spoke again.

“Nowhere to sit,” she said. “Perhaps if I’d known you were coming, but even then …” She waved her hand around the room. “I’m very busy.”

“What are you working on?” Gorham asked.

“Many things.”

“You don’t seem surprised by Rufus’s claim,” Peer said.

Nadielle reached a table in the corner of the room, spread a pile of plates, and then went to a cupboard. Cool air misted out when she opened it, followed by the enrapturing smells of cheeses and fruits.

“You found him?” she asked.

“I saw him coming across the desert, yes.”

“And you named him?”

How does she know that’s not his real name?
Peer thought, but she nodded.

“Why those names?”

Peer told her. Nadielle smiled.

“What does this mean?” Malia said. “After what we discussed last time we were here and—”

“Malia,” Nadielle said, “calm. I’ve sent out my eyes and ears. I’ve seen and heard. And that’s why I’m busy, because what you brought me last time is all true. It’s been a long time coming, but I’m able to help at last.”

“What’s in the womb vats right now?” Gorham asked.

“More eyes,” she said. “More ears. Better ones, and they’ll be ready soon.”

“So quickly?”

She shrugged, putting a slice of cheese into her mouth. “Some processes have been accelerated, yes, but they’ll work fine.” She looked at Rufus again, watching him take tentative bites from a chunk of bread, a slice of cheese. He was looking around cautiously, and every few beats his eyes would flicker back to the Baker.

“What’s wrong, Rufus?” Peer asked.

“That’s not her,” he said again. The small group fell silent, but Peer saw no sign of confusion on Nadielle’s face. She knew exactly what Rufus meant.

“He’s been having dreams,” Peer said. “Waking from them upset, disconnected. It’s as if he’s been here before.”

“Of course,” Nadielle said.

“And your Pseran called him chopped.”

Nadielle smiled and nodded, waving a chunk of cheese at the air while she chewed. “I made
them
perfectly, for sure.”

“Then tell us what you know,” Gorham said. And in that
plea, Peer saw the landscape of the bond between these two, and it pleased her. Gorham and Nadielle were lovers, yet she held him in the palm of her hand. Perhaps she welcomed him into her bed purely for the physical gratification, or maybe there was even a trace of affection or love about her for the Watcher. But the Baker was a woman removed from Echo City and in complete control of her own life. She was superior here, and she held the reins wherever their relationship went.

Nadielle finished the cheese and rubbed her hands. None of them had sat down, and an expectant air hung heavy. “I’ll tell you,” she said, nodding at Peer. “You seem to be his friend, and that’s what he needs right now.”

“What about—” Gorham began.

“Eat,” Nadielle said, and she headed for a spread of tall bookcases against the far wall.

Peer glanced at where Gorham and Malia stood bristling, then she touched Rufus’s arm lightly and guided him after Nadielle.

The Baker slipped a book from the case, plucked a key hidden in its pages, and went to a darkened corner of the room, behind her bed and hidden from view.

“We won’t wait for long!” Gorham called, and Nadielle chuckled softly.

“Yes, you will,” she muttered, and Peer realized that Nadielle didn’t care whether Gorham heard or not. She and Rufus followed the Baker through a low doorway, waiting as she closed and locked the door behind her and lit several oil lamps. It was a small room, rarely used, musty and rich in cobwebs. Pushed against the far wall was a table, and on the table sat two bulky old books and a spread of large paper sheets. At first they looked like maps, but as the three of them stood around the table, Peer realized that they were schematic drawings of some vast … thing. She saw legs and arms, a head and a heart, but nothing else made sense.

“Oh,” Rufus said.

“You weren’t supposed to remember at all,” Nadielle said softly. “It’s not like my mother to make mistakes.”

Peer closed her eyes, absorbing what had been said and realizing that it all made sense. Perhaps she’d even known it for a while now but had been unable to come to terms with what it meant.

“Maybe it
was
no mistake,” Rufus said.

“You remember her?” Nadielle asked, with a passion and need that she obviously rarely displayed.

“Yes,” Rufus said.

“Your mother made Rufus,” Peer whispered.

“The previous Baker, yes. Who chopped me when she knew she was being hunted, using essence from her own body, growing me in a hidden womb vat, nurturing me with as much care as if I was in her own womb.”

“So how did she …?” Peer asked, looking at Rufus. His eyes were wide, but she also sensed a growing anger about him.
Where is that from?
she thought.
What is it for?

“The same way,” the Baker said. “Which makes us, Rufus Kyuss, brother and sister.”

Rufus did not react. He moved one of the books aside and traced his fingers over the images on the large sheets.
He’s seen those shapes before
, Peer thought, and she wondered where and when.

“She sent me out.”

“Yes,” Nadielle said. “She left me many books, and these are the ones I’ve always kept hidden away. No one can see them, in case …”