"Well, there it is. What's left of it."
There was not much left. The huge concrete piers which they had noticed were not piers at all, but the ruined foundations of buildings. They had been baked by the searing heat, baked and charred almost to the ground. Nothing else remained, only this irregular circle of white squares, perhaps four miles in diameter.
Dorle spat in disgust. "More wasted time. A dead skeleton of a city, that's all."
"But it was from here that the firing came," Tance murmured. "Don't forget that."
"And by someone with a good eye and a great deal of experience," Nasha added. "Let's go."
They walked into the city between the ruined buildings. No one spoke. They walked in silence, listening to the echo of their footsteps.
"It's macabre," Dorle muttered. "I've seen ruined cities before but they died of old age, old age and fatigue. This was killed, seared to death. This city didn't die—it was murdered."
"I wonder what the city was called," Nasha said. She turned aside, going up the remains of a stairway from one of the foundations. "Do you think we might find a signpost? Some kind of plaque?"
She peered into the ruins.
"There's nothing there," Dorle said impatiently. "Come on."