Dawnbreaker

by Posey, Jay

  “It’s your decision, Wren,” jCharles said. “Totally up to you.”

  Wren nodded. He was seated at one end of the couch, as he had been for most of the day before when he’d related his tale, and Three’s. And like the day before, he was now staring at his hands in his lap, picking at a small sore next to the thumbnail on his right hand. The woman, Mol, sat beside him, while jCharles hovered by the window. The old man, Chapel, was leaning against the wall near the door.

  “Wren, honey, leave it alone,” Mol said. “You’ll end up making it a habit.”

  Wren curled his hands into fists, making his small hands seem even smaller.

  “I’m sorry,” Wren said finally, and he looked up at Haiku. “I can’t go. My Mama will look for me here. I have to wait for her.”

  It was as Haiku had expected. After Wren had gone to bed the night before, he’d discussed it at length with jCharles and Mol. But he’d waited until morning to extend the invitation, waited until Wren was another day rested, in hopes that he would be more willing to consider the offer. There were ways to manipulate him, of course, and Haiku had discerned them; emotions to stir, memories to evoke. If the Weir had truly been united under a single mind, even just a fraction of their total number, the potential for that one mind to wage war on the fractured world was staggering. It was the very scenario that House Eight had long worked to prevent. And here, now, was a boy with intimate knowledge of that mind. If anything could be done to turn back the tide, this boy would surely play a part in it.

  But for Wren to undertake all that Haiku had hoped of him, the boy would have to count the cost on his own and choose for himself. No amount of coercion would be strong enough to sustain his resolve under the pressures he would face. Even so, Haiku had to do everything he could to help Wren understand the magnitude of this moment.

  “I understand, Wren,” Haiku said. “It would be a big step for you.”

  “Maybe you could wait,” Wren said. “For a while. To see.”

  “I’m sorry,” Haiku said. “I cannot.” There were days of travel ahead, and Haiku knew the longer Wren stayed, the less likely he would be to ever leave.

  The boy didn’t respond. Didn’t raise his eyes to meet Haiku’s.

  “I understand there’s no way for you to fully grasp what I’m offering you. And all I’m truly offering is a hard journey to a harder place. Beyond that, I can make no guarantees to you save one: the opportunity you have before you now won’t come again. And it’s one that I do not present lightly. It’s well-considered, and I believe it’s well-deserved. And I’m not the only one who sees that.”

  Wren had gone back to picking at his thumb, but he stopped at those words and glanced up at Haiku. Haiku read the reaction.

  “Three was an excellent judge of people, Wren. I understand why he responded to you as he did. But there is more to you, I believe, than even he recognized. He couldn’t possibly have known what the Weir would become, or what role you could play in standing against them. Undoubtedly if he were here now, we would agree. Come with me. Maybe the one I take you to will turn us both away. If so, I’ll bring you safely back here again. But if not, Wren, if not, he may well help you find something within yourself that even you do not yet perceive.”

  It was dangerous to mention Three, dangerously close to using a sense guilt to sway the boy, and for a moment there was a flicker of something in Wren’s eye. A spark of intrigue, of courage, maybe even of hope. But as quickly as it sprang to life, so too did it cool and fade, crushed beneath the burden of loss too deep and too recently felt. Haiku tried to salvage the moment before it completely slipped away.

  “I don’t believe in fate or destiny. I never have. But meeting you, here and now... it’s an opportunity that I believe we could turn to purpose, if we will take it.”

  “I’m sorry. I am. But I have to wait for my Mama. She’ll look for me here,” Wren repeated.

  “There are ways for her to find you, Wren, you know,” jCharles said, “if that’s what you’re worried about. You can tell us where you’re going, and we’ll pass the message along when she gets here.”

  “I’m afraid that I cannot do,” Haiku said gently, and he bowed slightly to take the edge off. “I apologize, but great pains have been taken to keep certain secrets. And even for such a case as this, I cannot reveal them.”

  jCharles obviously didn’t like that, but he didn’t let it deter him too much. “A pim then. I’m sure she’ll contact you just as soon as she can, and you two can figure it out from there.”

  “She won’t pim,” Wren said. “It’s too dangerous. Asher might see it. He’ll use it to track us both.”

  “You think they’ll come after you here?” jCharles asked, and there was a subtle note of concern in his voice. Not fear exactly. Not yet. But Haiku heard it in his words; the thought that Wren’s presence in the city might represent a threat to it was only now beginning to occur to jCharles.

  “They’ll come,” Wren said. “One night. Maybe soon. Maybe a year from now. But they’ll come.”

  “And what if you’re not here?” Haiku asked. “What if you’re hidden away somewhere else?”

  Wren shook his head. “I don’t think it’ll matter. He destroyed Chapel’s village, just because they helped me.”

  “You don’t know that,” Mol said.

  “I believe it,” Wren replied with a shrug. “Just like I believe he’ll come here.”

  “Greenstone is too strong for him,” Chapel said. “For now.”

  Wren shook his head. “You know how quickly Morningside fell, Chapel. And it was way bigger than Greenstone.”

  “Morningside fell under its own weight,” Chapel said. “Its core was rotten. If not for the foolishness at the gate and for your companion’s betrayal, the city might still stand, even against such numbers.”

  “You think we’re safe here?” jCharles asked, looking to Chapel.

  “For a time,” Chapel answered. “But not forever. Preparations should be made.”

  “Well, I look forward to hearing your suggestions,” jCharles said offhandedly.

  “I fear you’ll have to see your own way through,” said Chapel, and there was a note in his words that hinted at the plans he’d made for himself.

  “Wait,” Wren said, picking up on the tone almost as quickly as Haiku. “You are staying, aren’t you?”

  “No,” Chapel said, simply.

  The blow was obviously heavy to the boy, and Haiku suppressed his disappointment that the old blind man had chosen that moment to reveal his intentions. The loss of a protector, the unexpected abandonment. These things would push Wren to cling to known comforts, farther from Haiku’s outstretched hand.

  “But,” Wren said, “you promised. You promised my mom you’d watch over me.”

  “I promised to see you safely to these people,” Chapel answered. “Those promises I give, I keep. But I give few, and those with limits.” Chapel strode to Wren then, and knelt in front of him. “I have played my part, child,” he said. “And I have other work yet to do.”

  Wren dropped his head again but Haiku could see the boy was trying to hold back tears.

  “I’m sorry to cause you pain,” Chapel said. “But I cannot long ignore the iniquity this city harbors. I must leave it, or set myself to rectify it. For your sake, and the sake of these good people, it is better I should go.”

  “Will you ever come back?” Wren asked. And in his voice, Haiku could hear his chance slip away. Wren wouldn’t leave with him now, no matter how long he waited. He was too fixed on what had been, on recovering things lost.

  “I have my own path to follow,” Chapel said. “As you have yours. For now they part. Who can say where they may meet again?”

  Chapel got to his feet and placed his hand on Wren’s head, a priest granting a silent blessing.

  “There is greatness in you, Wren,” he said, after a moment. “If you will embrace it.”

  Then he turned to the others.

  “
Judgment will come to this city,” he said. “I cannot oppose it. But it is my sincere hope that you will tip the balance in your own favor.”

  Everyone sat in stunned silence for a time, unsure of what to make of the old man’s proclamations. All except for Haiku, who was taking the measure of the room in hopes of finding a moment or thought on which to hang a final appeal.

  “Well,” jCharles finally said. “When you reckon you’ll head out?”

  “Soon,” Chapel said.

  “Figured that,” said jCharles.

  “I assumed Haiku would be departing shortly,” Chapel said, bowing his head towards Haiku. “I thought it best to say all the farewells at one time.”

  Haiku nodded at that and got to his feet. Chapel moved back to the front door.

  “A thoughtful gesture,” Haiku said. “And I should be on my way.” The shift in atmosphere seemed abrupt, a conversation unexpectedly truncated, but Haiku knew lingering wouldn’t help his cause. Better to give Wren a clean break.

  “I’ll be leaving through the Dive,” Haiku said, indicating a section of Greenstone on the west side of the city. “In case you change your mind.” He said it to Wren, with a smile, but Wren didn’t smile back.

  Haiku’s few belongings were already gathered by the front door to the small apartment. He’d given it his best attempt. There wasn’t much more he could do. It was still his sincere belief that having Wren along could have brought a greater good, but it apparently was not to be. There was no use in considering the courses that might have been. All that mattered was what truly was. One journey had ended, and the next had presented itself with its conclusion. Haiku made himself busy with his small pack, giving the others emotional space to say their final goodbyes to Chapel.

  “Thanks for all you’ve done, Chapel,” jCharles said. “We appreciate you getting Wren to us.”

  Chapel bowed to jCharles and then to Mol. “Thank you for your patience and your hospitality. I am an unusual guest.”

  “And you’re welcome just the same,” Mol said.

  “Wren,” said Chapel. “Be well.”

  “You too, Chapel. I hope to see you again some day.”

  The old man bowed his head to the boy and then without further fanfare, he simply turned and left. Everyone was silent for a few moments after. And then jCharles chuckled.

  “That’s a strange cat right there,” he said. “And I do mean cat. Prowling around at odd hours, gone one minute, right behind you the next. I was serious about putting a bell on him, you know.”

  “Twitch, enough,” Mol said, but she was suppressing a smile. “You know you’ll miss him.” She hugged Wren a little closer. “We all will.”

  “Yeah, I reckon so,” jCharles replied. And then a moment later, he added, “But maybe we can get him to come back around if I leave a little saucer of milk out for him–”

  “Oh, you stop,” Mol said, and she laughed in spite of herself. And that beautiful sound cleared some of the heaviness out of the room.

  Haiku cinched his pack down and stood, slinging the straps over his shoulders as he did.

  “Well,” he said. “Thank you all again, for your graciousness. Wren, to you especially. You’ve done great honor to both Three and to our House.”

  “Thanks, Haiku,” the boy answered. “I’m glad we had a chance to meet.”

  “Me too. jCharles. Mol. My blessings on your household.”

  Mol nodded and waved. “You take care of yourself out there. It was a real treat having you here. Like having a little piece of old times back for a little while. Stop back any time.”

  Haiku bowed to her and touched his heart in gratitude. For as much of the land as he’d traveled, he couldn’t remember having met anyone with the genuine warmth and sincere openness that Mol had shown him.

  “Goodbye,” said Haiku.

  “Bye, Haiku,” Wren said.

  Haiku lingered there by the door for a span, just long enough to see if Wren had any final words for him. But the boy had already lowered his eyes back to his own hands again.

  “I’ll walk you down,” jCharles said. He opened the door for Haiku, and Haiku gave a final nod to Mol before moving into the narrow stairwell that led down to the bar below. jCharles followed behind, though he didn’t speak again until they’d made it all the way to the front door of the building.

  “There anything else you need?” jCharles asked. “You good on food and water?”

  “I have all I need,” Haiku answered. “Thank you, jCharles. You’re a good man.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know about all that.”

  “I do. Three’s friends were few, and he chose them well.”

  jCharles’s eyes narrowed at that. “Just what all do you have in that book of yours anyway?”

  Haiku just smiled.

  “Yeah. Figures,” jCharles said. And then he chuckled and shook his head. “So what’ll you do now?”

  “The same I would have done had Wren accompanied me. I’ll go see the man myself. There may still be something he can do.”

  jCharles nodded, though he clearly didn’t understand. There was no way he could have.

  “Well good luck to you, Haiku. Like my lady said, any time you want to stop by, you’re more than welcome. Town tends to run a little short on good guys.”

  “Thank you, jCharles,” Haiku said. He would’ve liked to have added that he’d see the man again some day, but Haiku didn’t make promises he wasn’t certain he could keep.

  * * *

  After the men had departed, Wren stood by jCharles’s bookshelf by the window. He scanned the books there, reading the occasional title, but mostly just taking in the sense and character of each as his eyes passed over. The shelf wasn’t very tall, no higher than his chest, being just three levels high. It stretched wide, though, maybe ten feet or more. The shelves were completely filled, end to end, with all sorts of volumes. Books of all sizes, all colors. Some were in better shape than others, but all were to one degree or another worn and battered. Mol had called them jCharles’s life work; finding them, buying them, trading for them. Greenstone may very well have been the last place in the world to have a library, and no one who saw the inside of the Samurai McGann would ever guess anything remotely scholarly might reside in the same building. The first time Wren had seen them, he hadn’t understood why anyone would spend any effort at all on them, when any of them could instantly access any information at any time through the digital. But as he became more familiar with them, he saw the value of having the books arrayed before him. Who knew what worlds they contained, what stories they might tell? Things he’d never imagined, nor would have, had those books not drawn his eye and awakened him to the possibilities.

  They’d given him one for his own, one he’d lost now, with Morningside gone. It had seemed a treasure to him before, a true relic. And it had reminded him of Mol. Having glimpsed Haiku’s chronicle, though, these books had become almost magical to him. He ran his fingers across the spine of a titleless blue book, felt the texture of the covering.

  “How are you feeling, Wren?” Mol said from behind him. He shrugged. She walked over and sat down on the couch. He noticed she left between herself and the arm, leaving the place open where he’d lately taken to sitting next to her.

  “I’m sorry about Chapel,” she continued. “I know it’s hard to say goodbye. Especially when you aren’t sure you’ll get a chance to see someone again.”

  Wren moved his fingers from the spine of the book up to the top where the time-browned pages were pressed together. There was a story hidden in there. The important moments of someone’s life, whether they were real or imaginary, were recorded in there for whoever might happen upon those pages. How strange it was that someone’s life could leave such footprints that carried so far into the future. The thought made him wonder about his own footprints.

  “Did I make the right decision, Miss Mol?”

  “If you believe it was the right decision, it was the right decision,” she said
.

  Wren wondered at that. He’d made the decision he thought was right, but did he believe it? A small voice in his head, his own voice, asked if he’d be standing there wondering about it, if he really and truly believed it. “What if I’m not sure?”

  “Then you’re human,” she answered. There was a smile with the reply; he could hear it in her words. But it didn’t settle his uncertainty. A few seconds of silence went by, then Mol continued. “Old as I am, Wren, there are still plenty of times when I don’t know if I’ve made a good decision or a bad one. And you’re still a boy yet.”

  Wren moved his hands over the tops of the books next to the blue one. So many stories. So many lives. What decisions had these people had to make? What part had they played in their own destinies?

  “This feels like a big one, though.”

  “Could be,” Mol said. “Sometimes decisions seem big at the time and then turn out not to be what we thought. A lot of times, it’s the little decisions that make the biggest difference.”

  Wren let his hand fall from the books and turned around to look at her.

  “But how are you supposed to know?” he asked. “How can you ever tell what you’re supposed to do?”

  She motioned for him to join her on the couch. Wren took a seat next to her, and Mol dropped her arm over his shoulders.

  “If you figure that one out, you’ll be the wisest man in the world, Wren. And then I hope you’ll tell me. I’m not sure we can ever know what we’re supposed to do, because that would mean it’s already been decided. That there’s some kind of perfect plan out there, already laid out for us. But sometimes, when I don’t know which way to go, I try to think of someone I want to be like, and I ask myself what they’d do. Do you have anyone like that?”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, Wren’s mind was flooded with memories of people. Mama, Gamble, Able, Mouse. Mr Carter, and Chapel, and Lil. And, of course, Three.

  “I have a lot of people like that.”

  “Then you’re blessed indeed. Some people don’t even have one.”