BLUEMANTLE by Karen Langston (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud TXT) 📕

There’s another group gathered in Glade Park.”

“Banners? Loud-hailers? Badges with ‘Fuck off, A’ on their shirts?”

“No, but…” Fentlow looked around the table in search of support. None was forthcoming.

“You’re a victim of influence,” said Wulfwin. “The Governor’s paranoia has rubbed off.” He stood up, leaning on the table with stilt-arms. “The citizens fear us. Nearly forty years and we’ve not had so much as a hand in the air and a polite, ‘S’cuse me, but…’ What makes you think they’re going to kick off now?”

“Then why are they gathering?”

“The holes. They assume we can control nature. Most are probably high; you can’t employ reason. Once they see the dent in their pay packet, they’ll be clambering for overtime.”

“Let’s hope so. We’ve had calls from Employment. Problems have started.”

Wulfwin sighed. “We’re preparing to mobilise troops on a vital mission and you bring up Employment?”

“They’ve raised concerns, sir.”

“Don’t they always?”

“But serious this time. I’ve seen their outline assessment. Productivity is down.”

“Bullshit. It’s only been three days.”

“We’ve made the margins tight. Risk register is triggered if it’s down zero point two. If the current trend continues, we’ll hit that in a couple of hours.”

“Relax the margin then.” Wulfwin raised his hands, palms up. “What’s the point of this Council if we can’t exert a little power? Flex the rules? I suggest we revise it to zero point four. That should take the pressure off other Divisions too. If not, we’ll have Trade kicking off before the day’s out. Meanwhile, we can focus on more important matters. Yes?”

Fentlow raised a finger, about to say something.

Wulfwin cut in. “Good. The plan is agreed. We mobilise at sixteen-hundred hours. There’s much to prepare. I declare this session closed.”

–

Whether it was curiosity or conviction that drove them to the park, Naylor couldn’t tell.

Throughout the morning, more citizens arrived. Some found friends or family already gathered; others loitered on the periphery, one hand still on the fence. Then, in time, groups formed, merging with others. Conversations were kept low, yet their intensity grew. Doubts dwindled as reason gave cause. “…And now they’ve drugged the water. What’s left to say?”

This was the emerging backstop. First, in Bluemantle, spelt out in black and white; now, voiced among the gathered. The arguments were compelling. Confidence grew. “We just need more to join the walkout,” citizens said. “Then they’ll listen. They’ll have to listen.”

–

The disguise had worked when coupled with the cover of darkness. Chase dared not risk it in full daylight. Instead, he was forced to hole up in the hide, desperate to know how the plan was unfolding.

Eventually, Wella dropped in to update him. “Bluemantle’s working,” she said, her lips breaking into a cautious smile. “It can’t all be the walkout. There’s too many coming.”

“What’s the mood?”

“They know the rules. They appear subdued. But you move among the gathered and it’s a different story. You should hear what they’re saying.”

“Like what?”

“Like we can win this. Together. Stand our ground. How we’ve suffered for too long and we’re not going to take it anymore. How this is our chance to change things.”

“But they’re realistic, right? They know what the point is?”

“Yeah. Bluemantle made that clear. But still. It’s momentum. There’s a faith building. A belief that, if we can achieve this one thing, it’s a first step in a journey towards change.”

“I wish I could see it.” He sighed. “I wish Ursel could see it.”

“In time, brother. In time.”

–

Ursel could imagine it. That was enough for her.

She lay on her bunk in the Troubadours’ temporary camp. The midday sun penetrated the dell’s canopy, casting heat spots on her wounds. The swelling had eased in the night. She could now open both eyes.

The drummer who had been Dent Lore approached, hesitant. She gestured for him to come closer. “It’s okay,” she said, holding out the pencil and paper.

The drummer knelt beside her bunk, his eyes dark and downcast. His hand trembled as he began to write. Without meeting her eyes, he handed her the note. “I was there,” it said. “They made me watch.”

“I know. I remember.”

He scribbled again, faster this time. “I should’ve done something. Stopped them.”

“You had guards either side of you. You couldn’t have taken on all five of them.”

“I wasn’t myself. I was still mostly… him. But that’s no excuse. Even if I was fully him, I shouldn’t have stood by and let it happen.”

“There was nothing you could have done. If you had kicked off, they would have taken you out. It wouldn’t have changed what they did to me. You must know that.” She reached out and touched his arm. “Since then, you’ve risked your life to save mine. I would be dead if it wasn’t for you. I’ve everything to thank you for.”

The drummer shook his head, his expression pained. Then he wrote, “Do you think it’ll work?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Why?”

“Because people are ready. Not everyone, but enough. Enough have been touched by tragedy. All they needed was an invitation. Bluemantle will give them that.”

“I’m afraid to believe it.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the camp, the Troubadours sat close. It had been a long night, hoping for fortune’s favour one moment, fearing fate’s tribulation the next.

“We must have faith that Bluemantle will succeed,” said Chief.

“What about whether the citizens will listen?” said Pale Dexter. “Their track record affords little ground for hope.”

“This is different,” said Bend Sinister.

“How so?”

“You heard Ursel. It’s not been spelt out before. And they can’t ignore this. Whichever side they take, they will listen. How can they not?”

Chief sighed. “We must be mindful not to underestimate the Authority’s hold over them. They rule with a merciless whip, striking terror and intimidation. However well they listen, the citizens’ fear may determine their actions.”

“For some, yes,” said Bend Sinister. “For others, I think not. Which is why we must be ready.”

Pale Dexter and Chief looked at him, their silence questioning.

Bend Sinister obliged. “We made the decision to leave because we believed we had no choice. If the situation in Wydeye changes, it may