Eli Briggs

Eli watched a rerun of the press release from his office that evening, taking a heavy drag from his cigarette. He knew that his night was not ending anytime soon. As if on cue, the phone rang. “Yes?” he answered, somewhat warily.

“He’s spiraling,” the female voice on the other end said simply.

“I can see that,” Eli said knowingly, keeping his eyes on the now-muted television.

“No, I don’t think you do. It’s worse than usual. Can you come over? The nightman can let you in through the back entrance, you’d be undetected as long as you make sure you’re not followed.”

Eli knew this was coming and butted out his cigarette. “I can be there in an hour,” he said simply.

“Thank you, you’re a good friend,” Francine said before hanging up.

Eli gave a mirthless laugh. He wondered, and not for the first time if he was the only real friend they had. That was a depressing thought; he ought not to share it with them, better not to make things worse. It was lonely at the top, he understood this. But for the first person you called in a crisis to be someone who lurked in the underbelly of society? That was surely a difficult pill to swallow. Perhaps they expected more honesty from him than people in their social and working circles. That was arguably even more depressing.

He liked Francine well enough, just as he had liked the past two spouses before her. Being the third spouse seemed to impart a sense of wisdom that there were difficulties in being married to a public figure with a stressful job and that trying to take on the burden of that alone was not sustainable. She had learned from the mistakes of the ones that came before her.

The part she got wrong was that she thought that she was somehow stronger than those before her and that she could fix him. Everyone seemed to carry the notion that they were somehow stronger, made of different stuff, when it came to being romantically entangled with troubled people. But they were all wrong. He had known Tarry Bennett for a long time, and he knew that he was just a broken man. A powerful man in the political sense of the word, but a broken man nonetheless.

Like most broken people, Tarry attracted people who felt they could put him back together again. This would inevitably be their downfall when she eventually came to realize that even relying on Eli could not make Tarry whole again.

“I need to go out for a bit, business stuff,” he said discreetly to Olly as he passed him in the games room.

Olly looked weary as he made eye contact with Eli, but merely gave a simple “Sure” in response. He conceded without a fight, but Eli knew that he had been carrying a lot of worry lately. He was sure his leaving again on non-descript business matters would cause him to worry about his well-being, particularly after seeing the aftermath of Eli being on the receiving end of business gone wrong. Still, Eli clapped him on the shoulder in a way that he hoped conveyed his thanks and reassurance. Eli knew he had been absent of late and he hoped Olly wouldn’t hold it against him, amongst other things.

Eli nodded at the bar manager as he left, pulling the lapels of his coat high and his trilby low. He decided to take his chances between walking and using several connecting lines of tunnels. He could detect a follower much easier on foot and abandon his journey early if needed. However, it was a quiet night, and the closer he got to the first borough, the quieter it got. The lower boroughs were typically more lively at night in general, but the press conference seemed to have inspired a muted mood across all of Occaigh.

His route was slightly meandering. Despite keeping an ear out for potential followers, he enjoyed seeing the changing architecture between boroughs. The sixteenth could be seedy in places, but the houses (locally known as Workers Cottages) were generally well maintained. They were small, quaint, and built closely together, but because people tended not to have a lot in the sixteenth, they showed pride in what they did have. Houses were colourful and gardens were well maintained. His house was less bright to avoid attracting unwanted attention, but he did pay someone in the neighbourhood to keep the yard neat.

As he crossed a tunnel between the fourth and first boroughs, he observed how the architecture changed for the worse. The fourth borough is really where it started to look stately, with prim brownstones and expensive storefronts lining the streets. However, the first borough, the crown jewel of Occaigh as it was called, was downright ostentatious. The houses, if they could be truly called that, were so white that they looked nearly bleached. They were generally newer, as people with more money than taste had largely torn down anything old to put up their own eyesores. The neighbourhoods were all gated and he walked briskly past them. He didn't need any reason to draw unwanted attention.

He moved towards the downtown core where the enormous skyscrapers were found. This was also where the business center was, so anyone in any position of power or wealth typically wanted to remain close by. Getting to Tarry and Francine’s penthouse was easy once you reached the epicenter of the borough, and access through the back meant entering through a doorway several streets before the actual street the building stood on. As Francine had said, the doorman was waiting for him and he opened the locked door to let him in.

Despite Eli knowing the way, the doorman stubbornly insisted on accompanying him. The pathway led to a set of stairs that led underground to another tunnel. It was a real tunnel, not the usual magical monstrosities that marred Flexibilis. Eli felt comforted by real tunnels; it was a relief to be surrounded by actual, solid earth instead of putting blind trust into space and time bent into unnatural configurations.

It was also refreshing to know that the distance you were walking was reflective of the true distance between two points, and he came up to the next staircase at the other end of the tunnel exactly when he expected to reach it. The distance of a magical tunnel in the metaphysical sense was nonsensical, but he supposed that was the job of the professionals to worry about. The staircase led to a private elevator, and the doorman followed him in and scanned him up. It was a silent ride; Tarry’s security detail were people of few words. Finally, they reached the top; the doorman stood aside to let him enter the penthouse.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Francine stepped forward to greet him, she was wringing her hands in front of her and had frown lines etched into her forehead.

He took her hands to try and calm her and found they were shaking. “The usual spot?” Eli asked gently.

She shook her head. “He’s in his office.” If she noticed his bandaged hand, she didn’t ask about it. That was the best part of his “friendship” with them, nobody wanted to know more than they needed to; information could be dangerous, so it was best just to leave things alone.

He nodded and let go. He shrugged off his coat and removed his hat, placing them on the side bench.

He followed her lead to the home office but she stepped back from the doorway, as if unable to continue. He entered through the doorway and saw no one at first, and wondered if Tarry had moved himself. But as he walked deeper into the room, he noticed a pair of legs sticking out from under the desk.

"Don’t make me crawl in there," he thought, knowing it was in vain. He made his way to the back of the desk and knelt down, wincing slightly from the bruise on his stomach. Tarry was clutching a bottle of a very difficult-to-procure scotch, one Eli had gifted him one year for his birthday. Half the bottle was missing, and while Eli suspected this wasn’t enough to get him properly drunk, he noted that Tarry wore a horrified expression as he stared into nothingness.

“I wouldn’t waste that if I were you, it’s meant for celebrating,” Eli suggested, gently reaching forward to retrieve the bottle. Tarry’s only response was to clutch it tighter to his chest.

Eli sighed and let his shoulders fall. When he was in this state, only time worked in getting through to him. Eli's hopes of being home at a reasonable hour were quickly evaporating. He carefully lowered himself to a seated position the ground and lit a cigarette.

“Long day, huh?” he asked casually, leaning his head back against the chair. He extended the cigarette and was moderately relieved to see Tarry focus in on it. He slowly reached forward and accepted the proffered cigarette with a shaking hand. He puffed on it deliberately, smoke rolling out his mouth as he lowered it from his lips. Eli took the chance to take the bottle back and recap it, placing it on the desk above them.

“Look, for what it’s worth, you did well out there today,” Eli said with a shrug, taking the cigarette back for a drag, “You held it together, nobody could say you didn’t play your part well.”

“People died, and I’m not allowed to do anything about it. I’m not allowed to think anything for myself about it. What kind of hell is this?” Tarry asked aloud to no one in particular. His eyes were large and unseeing.

Eli shrugged again. “People don’t look to you for that, that’s not your job. You’re supposed to remain calm and composed in public and fall apart in private, just like you’re doing now. See, you’re perfect for this job.”

“Counsel keeps telling me there’s nothing to worry about, to ignore the rabble. They call it nonsense and to let the inquest do its job so that we can all move on with our lives. The Guilds keep fighting, and can’t agree on anything, so working together privately is basically out of the question. And I just keep thinking, what if someone did cause it, on purpose? What then?” Tarry asked, beginning to focus on Eli.

Eli didn’t have an answer for him, at least not one that would help him feel better, but he decided that if Tarry was already spinning out he might as well get a worthwhile opinion on the way down.

"Do you think it was an accident?" he asked carefully.

"I... I don't know. My counsel thinks it could be a coincidence," Tarry stammered out.

“Your counsel is full of shit,” Eli said with a sigh, "What do you think?"

Tarry let his head fall backward, thudding gently against the wall of his desk. "I'm suspicious. But I have nothing to go off of. However, I don't trust anyone around me up there. I can't trust anyone around me up there," he confessed softly.

"That's the right idea, trust no one," Eli advised gravely.

Tarry seemed to consider this as they passed the cigarette back and forth one more time.

“I think the Guild infighting is just a cover, it provides a nice camouflage for real issues. Someone will take the fall, the inquest will surely come up with something, a finger pointed at someone. And we don’t need to be caught off guard when it gets ugly,” Tarry continued.

For all Eli had to deal with in the sixteenth, he was glad he wasn't in Tarry's shoes.

“What if they think I had something to do with it?” Tarry asked quietly.

Eli raised an eyebrow, almost smirking. “Well, did you?” Anyone else would have been unnerved but Eli knew, above all else, that Tarry cared too much to have any part of this. Too much about appearances, too much about Occaigh, too much about this whole damn place and everyone in it.

Eli shook his head fervently.

“Then do what you can to keep the heat off you. You can’t afford that line of thinking right now. Look, you answered those questions as well as you could out there. You don’t know anything more than the general public right now and it’s not your job to figure it out. It’s your job to remain calm and keep everyone else calm, and then when the inquest is done someone gets held accountable,” Eli said firmly but not unkindly.

This seemed to placate Tarry. "A politician with a conscience," Eli thought wryly. It was almost unheard of.

They sat like that for a long while in silence, and eventually Tarry began to focus on the real world again.

Tarry looked at him curiously. “Dare I ask how Olly’s training is coming along for the aptitude test?”

“You can ask,” Eli said neutrally.

This produced a real laugh from Tarry. “That well huh? I don’t suppose you’ll tell me the actual reason you picked the Cartographers out of all the Guilds.”

“I’ll trade you a secret for a secret. If you tell me why you think your counsel is downplaying this I’ll share my rationale.”

Tarry considered this. “People are starting to get noisy, especially with the protests. The protests could just be the beginning, especially if the safety of the tunnels is being called into question. They are less worried about the collapse and more worried about the potential for people’s beliefs to run rampant.”

“Interesting. I suppose fear is an effective motivator for action. Deep down we’re all just frightened animals,” Eli said, shrugging.

“I shared my secret, now it’s your turn. Why do you so desperately want Olly to be a Cartographer? What’s your secret motive? ”

Eli waited and lit a fresh cigarette before responding. “I just gave it to you.”