Three Days Till Dawn

by R F Hurteau

  Sylvia came out to the kitchen and looked past her mother to see Nelson Boggs standing in the hallway. Her eyes swept the hall behind him, hoping to see Ben, but Nelson was alone.

  “Hello,” he said, a little nervously, eyeing the formidable woman who barred his path and stepping back as if anticipating a threat from the wooden spoon still clutched in her hand. “My name’s Nelson. I was looking for Ben. He was supposed to meet me at Sigil an hour ago, but he never showed up.”

  He glanced down at his watch. “He invited me to come to dinner, though, so I thought he might have just come home.”

  “He’s not here,” said Sylvia’s mother. “He’s more like his father every day. Come in, make yourself at home. I’ve just started cooking. It will be ready in a bit.”

  Nelson sat down at the table, and Sylvia had the sudden urge to confide in him. But she didn’t want to worry her mother, especially if it turned out that nothing was wrong.

  “Hey, Nelson.” She did her best to sound casual. “Want to walk down to the market with me? Maybe we’ll meet Ben coming off the train. And we can hurry my dad along, too.”

  Her mother scoffed indignantly. “Your father doesn’t hurry anywhere,” she said. “But be quick about it, or you’ll all be eating cold leftovers tonight. If no one has the decency to be home in time for dinner, then no one gets to enjoy it but me and Nana!”

  “Um, okay...” agreed Nelson, looking back and forth between the two women. “I guess a walk would be nice.”

  Once outside, Nelson looked at Sylvia, his eyes full of questions. “So, any idea why Ben didn’t show? He’s not still mad about that incident last week, is he? Because I swear, I never meant to get him in trouble. I was just trying to expand my horizons, see what other departments are like—”

  “What? No, no, he’s not mad at you. At least, I don’t think so.” Her curiosity got the better of her, and she added, “What incident?”

  Nelson’s face went red. “I kind of showed up in his department on my day off. I just wanted to see what it was like! I had a lot of questions, but I don’t think his supervisor was too pleased, because he ran me off pretty quick.”

  “It’s not that,” Sylvia replied, feeling deflated.

  All at once she found herself telling Nelson about everything that had transpired that day. She told him about Ben’s bizarre idea to go rat hunting and about the strange call, and how she’d searched for him afterward.

  “And then I thought he must be with you, but now you’re here, and he’s not.”

  Nelson was nodding, his face having gone very grave as she explained the situation. “You’re sure that’s all he said? Nothing else?”

  “No, that’s everything. Why? What are you thinking?”

  Nelson frowned. “I’m not sure.”

  He looked around to see if anyone was listening. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “Listen, I think Ben might be in trouble.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying.” Sylvia couldn’t help but be a little exasperated that Nelson was only just now catching on.

  “No, I mean real trouble, like the kind that lands you in Geothermal trouble.”

  Sylvia swallowed hard. Thinking it herself was one thing…hearing someone confirm it aloud seemed different, somehow.

  More real.

  “What makes you think that?”

  Nelson sighed, raising his thumb to his mouth and biting his fingernail as he appeared to mull this over. He looked like he was struggling, as if there were something he wanted to tell her.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t say much. The Elves...there are things they don’t tell us. If he found something he wasn’t supposed to find… I can’t go into it here. But I promise, I’m going to help you figure out what happened to him.”

  Sylvia found herself angry. Nelson was one of those, then. The conspiracy theorists.

  She suddenly felt stupid for talking to him, feeding his delusions. And yet, with Ben’s disappearance, she couldn’t stop the tiny voice inside her from clinging to Nelson’s words.

  “What do you mean, something he wasn’t supposed to find?” she demanded, voice rising. Nelson flinched, motioning for her to be quiet, but she went on. “We’re talking about my brother, here. First you say he might have gotten himself thrown into prison, then you have the nerve to act all secretive about it?”

  Nelson paled and fidgeted uncomfortably.

  “Please, can we not talk about this now? Here?” he whimpered. “Just...I need to make sure of some things first. I’ll meet you tomorrow. I promise I’ll tell you whatever I can then, okay?”

  “Tomorrow?” she repeated. “You want me to wait until tomorrow? Ben is missing today!”

  “I’m sorry, it’s the best I can do. Listen, I’m going to go. Meet me in the morning, North Wing, third classroom on the right. Six o’clock!”

  He hurried away toward the station without waiting for an answer, and she shouted after him.

  “What am I supposed to tell my parents?”

  Too late. Nelson had disappeared into the milling crowd.

  “About what?”

  She whirled around to find her father behind her, his brow furrowed, eyes curious.

  Thinking fast, she blurted out the first thing that came to her. “About—Ben,” she said. “And his friend, Nelson. They were supposed to come home for dinner, but they’ve just made other plans, and they won’t be coming after all.”

  “Oh dear.” Her father shook his head with a heavy sigh. “That won’t put your mother in a very good mood. Did you at least warn her that I’d be late?”

  “Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry, I completely forgot!”

  “Ah well, nothing for it, then. We’d best get this over with.”

  He walked beside her, still frowning. “The worst part is, I’m late for nothing. My friend never even showed up!”

  Six

  Tapestry

  EDWIN glanced at his watch again, groaning. He’d already been running behind to begin with; bumping into Sylvia had thrown off his schedule entirely. Nero would not be pleased.

  Then again, Nero was never pleased.

  Just entering the Councilman’s office made him feel dirty. Which was ironic, since it was one of the nicest rooms in all of Sigil.

  As head of the Elder Council, Nero commanded respect. Yet Edwin felt no loyalty for someone who managed to embody everything he hated about Elves in one neat, tidy package.

  It was always the same. Edwin would sit across from the Elf, who would talk at him about all the things wrong in Sanctuary and all the reasons why all of those things were Edwin’s fault. He would listen, a well-practiced look of concern plastered on his face, inwardly glowering.

  Nero, on the other hand, glowered outwardly, going so far as to insult other members of the Council, some of whom had the audacity to treat Humans with a modicum of respect.

  This, he suspected, was the reason Nero never did any public speaking. A reasonable person might expect that the Theran who ran the entire city would be the first to address the people on days like the Anniversary.

  Yet despite having been in charge from the beginning, Nero had never mastered the skill of diplomacy. He believed himself above such trivialities. He had no filter and no desire to develop one. Some might consider that a quality worthy of veneration; the Elf spoke his mind, without hesitation.

  Edwin had the impression, however, that most people were content to stay out of his way.

  Edwin wished he could just stay out of Nero’s way. Unfortunately, he had no such choice.

  Edwin’s position was a means to an end, and the benefit outweighed the considerable emotional toll. Back when he was growing up, Edwin’s father had been fond of drinking. And when his father drank, he was fond of talking.

  One of his favorite subjects to rant about had been Tapestry, a secret orga
nization of Humans who preserved and taught the “true history” of Sanctuary. His father would regale young Edwin for hours as his child’s brain soaked up the tales. But when pressed, his father had no evidence that these fantastical ideas were anything more than fairytales. It felt like a betrayal, until his father had not come home one night, nor any of the nights to follow.

  His mother had cried. He’d been sentenced to life in Geo, the charges never revealed.

  Edwin had watched his mother struggle to provide for the two of them. He’d vowed to make Sanctuary better, and with that drive he’d succeeded in becoming the highest-ranking Human in Sigil. He’d been determined to keep the ideals of the fabled group alive. He wasn’t sure how, but he’d been confident that the view would be clear when he reached the top.

  He’d achieved his title at the age of twenty-three...his mother had died four days before the announcement.

  Edwin soon found out that the highest rung on the political ladder had not been high enough to make any difference. He was a figurehead, something for others to aspire to with no real power. He danced when they told him to dance, laughed when they told him to laugh, and spouted whatever propaganda they desired. His suggestions fell on deaf ears. He could not have felt more demeaned if they had smiled, patted him on the head, given him an apple and told him to scurry on his way.

  That was before he met the Weaver.

  Edwin had been on his way home from a meeting that had gone long. The Councilor had wanted to discuss the current food shortages, which Edwin had not known were even a problem. He had wondered, How could I not have known this? He’d been instructed to prepare a statement reassuring the people that there was plenty to go around—a blatant lie to quell rumors.

  “How will we account for the disparity?” he remembered asking. “According to these numbers, within a month one hundred and thirteen people will starve.”

  “You needn’t worry about that, Edwin” the Councilor had reassured him. “Your job is to assure the people keep their faith in the system. It is crucial that we have their trust. Without that, Sanctuary will fall.”

  Edwin had known before he left the Councilor’s chambers that he would do as he was told. He would tell the lie, and one hundred and thirteen people, most likely from the Edge or Geo or the hospital, would quietly disappear.

  This was not the man Edwin Smalls had imagined he would grow up to be.

  A hooded figure had called out to him from a dark alley near Sigil Station.

  Over several more meetings the mysterious figure, always cloaked in shadows, had proven to know a great deal about him. Perhaps it was because the man appealed to his inner desires, or perhaps it was the thought that his father’s stories had been vindicated after all, but Edwin had not needed much convincing to latch onto the idea of becoming a part of Tapestry. He’d been welcomed into the fold, introduced to key members, taught things they’d never learned in school.

  Edwin had questioned the Weaver only once. He had been struggling to coordinate a particularly tricky operation.

  “I don’t understand why you can’t just tell me your name. You know I’m loyal, haven’t I proven that to you yet?”

  “I am no one of consequence,” the Weaver had replied. “I wish to remain anonymous for many reasons. You could inadvertently lead my enemies to my doorstep. Or the members of Tapestry would see me and be disappointed, or worse, put me on a pedestal as some idol. I have no name, Edwin. I am not a person. I am an idea. I have no desire to be anything more than that.”

  In the years that followed, Edwin had been instrumental in uniting many of Sanctuary’s malcontents under Tapestry’s banner. Whereas the Weaver worked from the shadows, Edwin was able to work right under the enemy’s nose.

  Up until now, they had managed to organize quite a few small but successful ventures. Tapestry had enough people in Agriculture, for instance, to divert crops and feed dozens of families on the brink of starvation. They’d made headway in reducing crime in some of the most dangerous sections of the Edge. They’d used resources within the hospital to smuggle out several patients destined for an untimely end.

  Edwin was still lost in the past as he reached the private anteroom outside the office and the door flew open, Nero’s daughter rushing out.

  “...expect me to accept some disgusting, squalling, half-breed whelps—”

  Edwin could hear Nero shouting as she pushed the door shut with her whole body, leaning all her weight against it, muffling his tirade.

  “Excuse me,” she whispered, her voice pained. She rushed past him into the lift, jabbing at the control pad as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

  Edwin watched her go, then faced the door.

  He might have felt compassion for her if she were anyone else. The fact that she and her father were estranged at all spoke volumes. And yet, she was Nero’s daughter. How much different from the beast that bore her could she be?

  In any case, this did not bode well for Nero’s mood. He braced himself and knocked.

  “Enter,” snapped a voice from within. Edwin opened the door tentatively.

  Nero scowled at him. “Where have you been? You think I have nothing better to do than sit around, waiting for you?”

  “Apologies.”

  Edwin pulled up a chair, not bothering to mask his insincerity. Nero was too self-absorbed to notice a little thing like lack of decorum. He wanted to quip that the Elf had hardly been sitting around, given the state in which his daughter had just left. Instead, he settled for, “Urgent matters required my attention.”

  “The only thing urgent around here is the need to find someone who knows how to do their job and mind their place. You Humans are all the same, undisciplined and untrainable. Do not let it happen again.”

  Edwin nodded, but he knew that Nero was only posturing. He had no power on his own to remove Edwin from his position. The Council had hand-picked him, and he had been able to charm most of them. He had been a good puppet, giving no one any reason to complain about his performance.

  Nero was the only one who refused to extend a hand of, if not friendship, at least cooperation. And besides, there was no chance that he would find someone else in the city more tolerable than Edwin.

  He’d just said so himself; all Humans were the same to him. None more palatable than any other.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of writing down your notes for you since you could not be bothered to be here to do it yourself. I have other things to attend to.”

  He shoved a piece of paper across the desk to Edwin with such force that it bent backward over his hand, revealing the scribbled text beneath. Even his handwriting looks angry, Edwin thought. He took it dutifully and stood.

  “Very well, then,” he said, making to leave. This hadn’t been so terrible, after all. Short and to the point. A refreshing change of pace from their usual meetings.

  Nero’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “And where do you think you are going?”

  “I thought you said you had other things to attend to?”

  Nero tapped his fingers impatiently against the desk, his short, well-manicured nails clicking in irritation. The action reeked of condescension, and Edwin felt his own hand clench around the sheet of paper.

  “Other things with you. I have to attend to other things with you,” Nero corrected.

  He spoke slowly, enunciating as if he were worried that Edwin was having a very hard time understanding a very simple concept.

  “Again, apologies,” said Edwin, stiff as he retook his seat. “How can I be of service?”

  “I need you to give me an update on the Anniversary. How are we progressing on the pageantry and such?”

  “Everything is well in hand. We have a good team making sure everything will run like clockwork. Sylvia is doing a fantastic job coordinating everything.”

  “What about the new speaker
s? Have those been selected?”

  Edwin nodded. “Yes, I hand-picked the speakers myself. We need only arrange the timing. Now, I assume we will not be making attending these mandatory, since that will take up practically the entire day, what with the Council’s speeches in the evening—”

  “The new speeches will be mandatory attendance.”

  Edwin tried to mask his surprise. “All right, it’s a bit late in the game to make that kind of an announcement, but we’ll muddle through. I’ll see about getting the word out as soon as we’re finished here.”

  “What are you talking about?” Nero growled. “The word is already out, you idiot, everyone knows the evening is mandatory attendance.”

  “Yes, of course, Councilor, but if we are going to also require the morning to be—”

  “I swear, it’s like trying to reason with a pile of rocks!” Nero threw up his hands. “Must I spell it out for you? Shall I simply do your entire job for you?”

  Edwin had to admit that he was, in fact, having a difficult time following. But Nero’s mocking tone only served to make him angry.

  He struggled to keep his features neutral as he waited for Nero to continue. It wouldn’t do to go riling him up even further.

  “The new speeches will take place during the evening,” Nero clarified, as if this should have been painfully obvious. “The Council members will be speaking in the morning instead. People will not be required to attend those.”

  He glared at Edwin as if to head off any protest. “And don’t take me for a fool and bother pretending that you’re upset or confused about it either. It’s the same drivel year after year. Nobody even listens. They’re there to fill their stomachs, not their brains.” Nero shook his head in open disgust. “An idiotic idea, the Anniversary.” His voice rose in pitch like someone talking to a baby. “Here, let’s celebrate the day your entire species almost died, but didn’t.”

  It was almost too much. Only the hopes that Edwin had riding on tomorrow’s events kept him from leaping from his chair and throttling Nero where he stood—superior strength be damned.