No power under or in the sky was going to hold Zantheus back now. There was just a short stretch of earth between where the dump ended and the city began, and as he strode across it he felt the excitement course through him. The moments he had been visualising for so long now, the scenes that he had been imagining in order to keep drawing himself forwards on his journey, were about to take place. The walls were high, high enough to hide all but the very tops of a few buildings, and fashioned out of grey stone. He thought they looked so beautiful. Though they were weathered and yellowing in places, they positively shone in contrast to the filth and smoke of the dump.

“You are certainly in a hurry, my friend,” said Krestotes, but Zantheus barely noticed him. He was making straight for the South Gate. Its massive doors were open and he could see into the city, his home-town, which grew bigger with every step. A cart emerged, laden with rubbish to unload in Abaddon, spoiling the view, but Zantheus did not mind. He was here. He had finally arrived.

As they passed through the gate, the travellers slowed to take in the Great City. It was so Great as to be intimidating. Bigger than any city they had yet visited, its streets seethed with people, most of them hurrying around with very serious, determined looks on their faces as though they had very important business to which to attend. Out in front of them, further than they could see, stretched one of the four main roads which converged at the centre of the city, each leading to one of the four Compass Gates. It was wide and packed full with traffic, horse-drawn carts but also fancier carriages, taxis drawn by men or animals, lone riders on horseback, the odd wheelbarrow filled to the top with some fresh foodstuff by a trader looking to sell his stock on the move. Stone, brick and wooden buildings filled every available space where there was no road, and some of them rose to what must have been something like ten floors high.

As travellers, they were nameless in this city, perfectly inconspicuous as they stared at the activity of the bulging metropolis. Nobody took any notice of them.

Only Zantheus felt excited. Tromo was not really that impressed, he had enjoyed his travels with Anthē and Zanntheus and did not really want them to come to an end now. Whatever idealistic hopes Anthē had entertained about starting a new life here were made very small all of a sudden by the overwhelming size of the city. And in all honesty, even in his excitement Zantheus was not entirely at peace. Now that he had finally arrived here in Qereth, something was not quite right. He had noticed something.

On the roads there were a number of women, and some children, weaving in and out of the traffic carrying small bowls. They were going up to carts and pedestrians in the street. Most of the time they were ignored, but sometimes people stopped and gave them what looked like money.

Then Zantheus noticed something else. A few of the people with the bowls were not standing up walking like the others, but were sat down by the side of the road. His eyes rested on one man, whose legs looked much shorter and smaller than they should have been. He was lame. Zantheus did not remember these things from his last visit to Qereth.

As he surveyed the streets he noticed a third thing, which shocked him the most. Attached to the city wall, quite near to the them in fact, was a set of two chains made of large metal ringlets. Shackled to them was on old man, with a long beard, white as snow, his ribs peeking through his thin and shrivelled body as he sat with his arms held up by the chains, his shame only covered by a few dirty rags.

“Who is that?” Zantheus found himself asking.

It was Krestotes, whom he had forgotten was still with them, who gave an answer. “A rebel. Someone who argued with the Government. They do that to some of them as punishment. They’re meant to remind us to stay on the right side of the law.” Krestotes spoke gravely.

“I thought that Qereth was a democracy?” said Zantheus. “So surely every citizen has an equal say in the laws?”

“Right,” said Krestotes, “but if someone questions or breaks the laws that ‘everyone’ agrees on, this can happen.”

As they were watching the wretched man, an old woman dressed in black came and knelt down next to him and began to spoon-feed him something out of a bowl. Zantheus knew he should not stare, but he could not help himself. He had seen something like this only once before, and he was trying to think when. He looked at Tromo. That was it. In Ir, when Tromo had been looking after the other sick children. He turned back to Krestotes.

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“Who is that woman?” he asked.

“Most likely a relative or spouse. Or she might be a…good-worker. There are some people in this city who have still not forgotten how to work for the sake of others. Speaking of which....” He addressed the woman they had just picked up from the dump. “Poiea, I should show you to the women’s Recovery House.” He looked at the four again. “Would you like to come with us?”

“No thank you, Krestotes, not for now,” said Leukos. “I think it would be best if we found an inn.”

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you,” said Krestotes, eying Leukos. “Let me give you my address in case you are ever need a place to stay.” He handed Anthē a scrap of paper with a number and street name scrawled on it. “Stay safe, and I hope you have an enjoyable time in Qereth!”

They waved goodbye, and with that, Krestotes and Poiea were gone.

Anthē, practically-minded as ever, spoke first. “You still have enough money for us then, Leukos?”

“Yes,” said Leukos. “For now.”

Her practical question answered, suddenly the atmosphere became very charged. Anthē looked at Zantheus nervously, realising that he might be about to leave soon. All at once they became very self-conscious. Zantheus did not have the sensitivity to break the spell, so it took Leukos to state what was on both of their minds.

“Are you leaving us now, Zantheus?”

“Um...” He paused. Then, inarticulately, without knowing why, he said “No, I will come with you to the inn...”

“Alright then,” said Leukos. “Then let’s go and find one.” He indulged his habit of walking off without a further word, expecting the others to follow him. On this occasion, Zantheus, Anthē and Tromo kept close to him, which was unusual, but he did not seem to mind today. Instead of making some comment about how he had to stay further ahead of them, he simply told them what he knew about the city.

“The southernmost sector below the river is the poorest in Qereth,” he explained as he walked. “You will find more beggars here than anywhere else. Some richer citizens, however, do still come here, particularly businessmen, because of the abundance of small enterprises and the cheapness of the goods.”

Zantheus was still having trouble with the sheer size of the place. He had remembered it being big –he had been a child when he was last here– but not quite this big. In each direction he looked down a road he saw buildings stretching far into the distance. If he had not had Leukos with him he would have gotten lost very quickly, since by now they had turned off the main road.

“Where are we going, Leukos?” asked Anthē.

“We’re heading north-west to a slightly more upmarket area...” said Leukos. “Nothing too fancy though. There’s a place I know of where I stay when I’m in Qereth.”

“And you’re sure you have enough money to pay for all of us?”

“Yes, yes. For the meantime.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind, Leukos.”

After many left and right turnings which Zantheus failed to memorise completely, they found themselves walking down some far less busy and dirty streets. Some of the buildings looked to be built out of the same white stone that had made up the walls of the city. Weirdly, though the streets were far less crowded, the well-dressed people that walked them paid them more attention. Zantheus in particular got a good deal of strange looks. After maybe about half an hour’s walk from where they had started out in front of a gate, Leukos stopped in front of a tall, white building on one of the cleaner, quieter streets. It looked grand and elegant, and its doors were even inset with glass panes so that you could see through them.

“This is it,” said Leukos.

Zantheus did not say anything yet, so they went through the doors together into the area behind. Anthē was impressed. This was a long way from Luma’s inn back home in Ir. Some healthy-looking green plants stood either side of a long wooden desk, behind which sat a young woman with dark hair. Leukos put his book on the desk and wrote as he spoke to her.

“Hello sir,” said the woman.

“Hello. We’d like rooms for three please. Preferably one single, and one double for an adult and child.”

“Certainly sir,” said the woman politely. “Let me see if we have anything next to each other...” She began to consult a series of charts on her side of the desk. Anthē, Zantheus and Tromo stood in silence, waiting. None of them looked at each other. After an age, the woman said “Ah, here we are.”

Leukos paid the deposit for them and she retrieved the keys from a drawer. When she produced them and said “Would you like someone to show you up?” at last Zantheus spoke.

“Could you wait for a moment?” he said, quite unexpectedly. “I need to say goodbye.”