Echo City by Tim Lebbon

several times, though not too deep. It had always been a disturbing experience for her, leaving the world she knew and traveling through areas—streets, buildings, parks, and landscapes—where the city’s past had played out. These Echoes were all but silent now, though history still hung heavy in their darkness. Once, in Mino Mont, she had descended with a woman who had known her mother, and the woman showed her a house where Peer’s ancestors had once lived. They had been engravers, recording history on marble tablets for rich families, but that ruin had been empty of all but dust and dark things.
    She knew others who had gone deeper. Some could not sleep for days after returning to daylight; a few wanted only to go back down.
    “We’ll stop here to eat,” she said to Rufus. “Hungry?”
    “Yes,” he said, rubbing his stomach. He was looking around wide-eyed, and Peer was afraid that in itself would attract attention. But it was hardly surprising. The river valley was an amazing place—as newer layers of the city had been built upon older structures, the valley had both deepened and widened, its sides sloping back from the waterway. Looking down at the valley sides should have been like viewing the city’s histories laid out in strata, but weathering and the actions of humankind had landscaped the slopes into something different. Here and there, evidence of architecture still remained, but mostly the steep slopes were either smothered with razorplant or oxomanlia, or had become refuse slicks where the city vented its waste.
    This was especially prevalent beneath and around several bridges that spanned the Tharin’s man-made valley. Most of the bridges were quite old—although there were rumors, no one knew for sure how the leg piles had been sunk through the poisonous river—and they had been built up along with the surrounding urbanized landscape, their own older Echoes on full view and deserted but for the occasional disoriented phantom. They were well maintained, and for some reason they had become centers of commerce and entertainment, wide enough to house all manner of shops and eating places. Each bridge had its own marshal, whose job it was to ensure the bridge’s safety and success, and each marshal had his or her own gang of aides. The crossings were small towns in themselves, and in the past there had been skirmishes between rival bridges.
    The one thing never permitted was bridge tolls. The Marcellan rulers insisted that the people of Echo City must be free to cross the River Tharin at any point and at any time, thereby defying the dead river with their own busy lives.
    Peer had been to Six Step Bridge many times before, and she knew it to be a lively, cheerful place. Every second building was a tavern or restaurant, and its commerce was builtaround wine, ale, and good food. No one knew where its name came from, and few bothered to descend its structure to try to find out.
The past is below us
, the popular saying went, a statement of attitude as well as geography. The bridge was a place where people could remain anonymous, and Peer looked forward to a few moments of calm.
    She also wanted to talk with Rufus. Since crossing the Levels and killing the Border Spite, he had not once asked where she was taking him or who they were going to see. His amazement at this place was obvious, but he was also an intelligent man—she could see that in his eyes, sense it in his bearing. He might be a visitor to Echo City, but she was certain he would never let himself be led blind.
    They started across the bridge, the Tharin a pale snaking shadow far below, and Peer realized just how much she had missed the city. There were areas like this in Skulk, yes—places where people gathered to drink and party or to sip and discuss all the bad things in the world. But she realized now that, in Skulk, there had always been an undercurrent of exclusion. They had been partying in spite of no longer being part of the city.