The Echo: Glass City

Leaves rustled in the wind as I walked between the trees. My father walked beside me, gray hair pulled back into a knot at the crown of his head. His weathered face was set in a grim expression, his eyes crinkling at the weight of his thoughts. I watched him as the somber mood rested heavily on our shoulders. I didn't look anything like him, and it bothered me; most people told me I looked like my mother, but every similarity to my father made me brim with pride.

My father wasn't very old, but the stress of his occupation had aged him. Leading our village was never easy, but the threat looming just outside our border was growing with each passing day. Finally, my father had set aside his pride and decided on a pilgrimage to our capitol. Villages on the outskirts typically kept to themselves save for the annual ishtaë, the meeting of the chiefs.

We followed the road through the trees, an uneasy silence between us. My father hadn't been to the main city in almost a decade. The ishtaë only took place in the capitol every ten years, to allow the chiefs to travel to the other villages and gauge each other’s strengths and weaknesses to effectively help and defend each other. Most villages concentrated on certain aspects of necessary work: my village focused on agriculture, while our neighboring villages specialized in mining and weaponry, respectively. I’d spent plenty of time in the latter, devoting time and study to learning the many different weapons of our military and how to effectively use them.

The forest loomed around us; the sound of trees settling and animals calling met our ears like a song. So far it had been three days; with all our resources tied up in the village, my father and I had to leave on foot. Exhaustion made him slow. I could tell he was trying to put up a front, to prevent me from seeing his weaknesses, but my father was no fighter. He had a farmer’s hands, and lived a farmer’s life. My grandmother always claimed that Pareshi, goddess of wealth and agriculture, had personally blessed my father.

As we walked through the trees, our dirt path eventually turned into a cobbled road. Uneven stones molded the path through the trees. My father muttered a thanks to the gods.

“We're almost there,” he said. “Another day and we’ll be at the capitol.” His voice was deep and gravelly, a voice one would expect from a man of his stature. I hadn't yet reached that stage of my life, but I hoped my voice would settle as deep as his.

My father pushed a stray hair out of his eyes. I had so many questions to ask, but no idea where to begin. I took a deep breath and said, “Do you think the capitol will be able to help us? How? Do you think the village is okay? That Mom will be okay?”

My father chuckled. “Relax, Rees. I'm supposed to worry about those questions, not you. You haven't even reached priesthood yet.” I attempted to relax my shoulders, realizing that they'd been bunched up with the stress of my worry.

“Why did you bring me then?” My father gave me a humorless smile.

“The llagygia is too old for this sort of travel, and on top of that, you need some political experience. Someday you'll be helping someone else lead the village.” I didn't really want to think about that. While it wasn't uncommon for a village leader to retire when the next leader was chosen, our llagygia hadn't determined if my father would last that long. As the oldest and most attuned priestess in town (and my grandmother’s sister), she would know approximately when the next leader would be elected. Combined with the fact that my mother hadn't given birth to a girl yet, the likelihood of my father passing before the next leader was elected was high.

We continued to walk for quite some time, questions eating at the web of our consciousness. One question kept demanding my attention, needling it's way through my mind. “Dad?” He hummed in response, letting me know to continue. “Do you think my patron god will ever contact me?” He glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

“You shouldn't worry about that, Rees.”

“Grandmother heard from Pareshi when she was four. And Aunt Kia heard from Cameus before she reached seven. I should have heard from one of them by now.”

My father heaved a sigh. This wasn't the first time we'd had this discussion. “The gods are fickle and distant. We are not the only village they visit, and who knows if any of the neighboring countries worship them as well. I'm sure that they will come to you when the time is right.” I simply glowered at the rocks beneath our feet. “The llagygia said there was much strife in the world. No doubt this includes among the gods, as well.”

“She said herself she hadn't heard from Motagma or Bahaji in months. What if they've abandoned us?” My father stopped, fixing me with a stern glare. I could not meet his gaze.

“No matter what, our gods would never abandon us. They gave us life. They love us and we love them. Have faith, Rees. The gods will give us counsel.” I finally looked up and nodded. He sounded so certain that I almost had hope again. It would take a lot more than my father’s promises to make me believe, however.

We walked until the sunlight filtering through the trees was deep orange in color. We pulled off the road, settling camp out of sight, where we could still see the road and watch for anyone who might attempt to rob us, though they would quickly learn what a horrid idea that would be. We ate a very small meal, a few potatoes and a slice of bread each, and I set up for first watch.

“Believe me, son,” my father said. “It will get better from here.”

---

“Blessings of Bahaji,” my father muttered under his breath. We stood on the crest of a sheer-faced hill, staring at the capitol in awe. From the expression on his face, I could only imagine this booming city was nothing like what my father had seen on his last visit during the ishtaë. Sprawling in front of us were large, beautifully constructed buildings, glass windows and large metal beams. As we watched, another building was being constructed, machines pulling long steel beams from the ground and maneuvering them into place at the top of the buildings.

“Did we come to the right place?” I whispered. My father could only nod, mouth agape.

The cobbled road we’d taken led down one side of the cliff, making a sharp turn and heading toward the city at its base. After another moment of staring at the city, my father turned and started to make his way down. We spoke quietly about the differences in the city he last saw and the one he was seeing now. Our conversation ended as we reached the base of the cliff, as we were no longer alone.

People bustled along the road; small shops had been set up for farmers to sell their produce and home-made goods. While most of those things were outsourced to the villages the capitol reigned over, there were still some farms local to the area, mostly dairy and animal farms. These farms provided milk and meat directly to the city, whereas the villages kept their own.

My father and I walked down the path, heads down, careful to avoid bumping into anyone or stepping on any toes. Horse-led carts bustled produce from stall to stall. Militia members patrolled up and down, keeping their eyes alert for any signs of trouble. I tried not to stare, but I looked up as they passed by and one of them caught my eye. He had dark tan skin, dark hair cut in the normal military style. The crinkles around his eyes made it obvious that he smiled a lot, which made him seem much less intimidating. He only gave me a brief glance, but when our eyes met, just for a second it felt like those eyes had seen countless years, a millennia of time.

“Come, Rees, we don't want to start trouble.” I followed my father quickly, averting my eyes. The man hadn't even noticed me. We made our way into the city and paused.

It was much more imposing standing in the city rather than looking at it. Glass buildings hid the heavens from view, almost as if they were curving up to prevent anyone from seeing around them. Gray skies kept out most of the sunlight, and people bustled from everywhere and nowhere. I couldn't see anyone entering or leaving the glass buildings, but I couldn't understand where they all came from.

My father had told me that the capitol held many, many more people than any of the villages, perhaps more than all of them combined. I hadn't believed him at the time. How could one place hold so many people?

Now, staring up at all of these tall buildings, seeing all these people going nowhere and everywhere all at once, I understood. My village seemed like a dollhouse by comparison. I wondered where the jövoya was in a city this size. None of the streets seemed to curve, all going in straight lines. I looked up at my father, but he was busy trying to determine our way through the city.

“It's like a maze,” I whispered.

“What was that, Rees?” my father asked, looking up at each of the buildings as we passed them.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, following him through the streets. Eventually we stopped at the bottom of a huge set of stairs, staring up at another glass building. This one was much smaller, though, two or three levels instead of the many the other buildings had.

We began to ascend the steps and as we reached the top, my father turned to me. “Listen, Rees. This whole city is giving me the creeps. I don't want you to come inside.” I gave him a confused look. “I have a bad feeling about this place. I want you to go find some place to stay, and don't tell anyone where you're from. Actually, don't talk to anyone. Just find some place to stay and stay there until I get back.” I nodded in understanding. Fear was starting to fill me with dread. He put his hand on my shoulder. “No matter what, don't come looking for me. I'll find you, I promise.”

With that, he shooed me back toward the steps. I took a hesitant step and looked back, and he waved me on and turned toward the building again. I made my way back down the steps and looked around. I wouldn't even know where to look for a place to stay. The small bag of change my father had given me before we left our village weighed heavily in my pocket. I decided to start on my left and began to walk.

People pushed past me, on their way to live their own lives. None of them even saw me, let alone gave me a second glance. I followed the stream of people, looking for something, anything that hinted at a place to stay. All of the buildings looked the same. The signs didn't make the buildings any more legible.

I finally made my way out of the crowd and noticed the edge of the city. I glanced back at the glass buildings, figuring that I might find something on the edge of the city rather than inside of it. I made my way out of the city, seeing old, wooden buildings no higher than two or three stories. The sight of the worn wood instantly comforted me. I headed toward the nearest building with a wooden sign that displayed food on it.

I stepped into the building and spotted a large woman with dark hair and a kind smile bustling between tables, handing people their food and filling up drinks. She spotted me quickly and stepped over.

“Hello little one!” Her voice was as kind as her smile and her eyes crinkled as she addressed me. “Where are your parents?”

“Um…” I paused, not sure what to say. The weight of her stare was making it hard to find words. “I need a place to stay.”

“What you need is some food! Sit and I'll find something for you to eat. Then we'll try and find your parents, alright?” I nodded dumbly and she gestured toward a spot at the counter. I sat in it tentatively and as I waited, she plopped a plate of food in front of me. My stomach grumbled as I stared down at it; I hadn't realized it had been so long since I'd eaten anything good. I glanced up at the woman and she gave me a kindly smile, gesturing for me to eat. I looked back down at it and started eating, practically shoveling the food into my mouth. It was the most delicious thing I'd had since the feast my llagygia had thrown before we left.

“Give me a second to make sure the customers are alright.” I nodded and continued eating greedily as she bustled around the tavern. Finally she settled in front of me, refilling my water. “Now, kiddo, where's your parents?”

I swallowed my food and looked up at her, trying to decide what to say. My father had said not to talk to anyone. “I don't know,” I supplied. I wasn't a very good liar.

The woman in front of me was unsatisfied. “What do you mean you don't know?”

I shrugged quickly. “I'm on my own.” That wasn't a lie. It also seemed to satisfy her. She hummed and I put my money on the counter. “I can pay.” Her eyes went wide.

“Did you steal that?” I tried to deny it but she cut me off. “Never mind, put it away. You don't need to pay to be here.” She tapped her fingers on the counter. “You can stay here and help around the tavern.” I bit my lip, uncertain. “Don't you worry kiddo, I'll take care of you.” She smiled kindly. “I'm Betty.”

“Rees,” I said with a slight smile. “Thank you.”

“Oh, you're so well-mannered,” she said with a chuckle. “I like you Rees.”

She showed me to a room and I sat on the bed, putting my pack on a chair in the corner. I took a deep breath and looked out of my window to the glass city. I wondered how my father was doing.

I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Dread settled in my gut. I had the feeling that I would never be seeing my dad again.