Prologue:
Changing Spots   Adeshka: three hundred square miles of stone and steel kept standing by grime and stink. Ugh, it just had to be here.

Before stepping off the curb, Margaret Mallencroix pressed her mask to secure the seals. She couldn’t imagine going around without filtration. The air was faintly green, and even with the mask on, the city’s reek slithered in.

Garbage juice, burning tires.

Autos treated the traffic lights as suggestions. Once in the street, she could go barely more than a step without a vehicle barreling past. She felt invisible, which she wouldn’t mind if she weren’t bumped so often. Hasty pedestrians wore a mad kaleidoscope of clothing: spider-silk robes open to reveal deflector vests, taped boiled leather, chainmail hoods paired with slippery satin tracksuits. Some, either brave or daft, walked the rubbish sprinkled streets barefoot.
Someone jostled her again.

Yes, I do hate this city, Margaret decided.


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