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

She grabbed his arm and pulled him to one side. Her eyes were wide, her skin glowing. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“The fucking A. They’ve raided Cole’s flat.”

“Hold on. I don’t understand. Who’s Cole?”

“The creator of Bluemantle. I pointed him out at Chief’s show. Evan, his partner, is safe; he wasn’t home at the time. But he’s pretty sure Cole was. If they’ve got Cole, they’ve got Bluemantle.”

She gripped his arm, her knuckles white. “It’s over, Chase. Without Bluemantle, the Scene can’t survive. It’s finished.”

Chapter Nineteen

Chief and Pale Dexter stood opposite each other, the small cave’s width apart. Pale Dexter eyed his opponent with cool suspicion. Chief maintained her gaze on the archway through which Bend Sinister was due to appear.

“He is late,” muttered Pale Dexter. “He calls an unscheduled assembly, then fails to attend on time. He’s not one for mind games, but then perhaps he’s resorted to desperate measures.”

“I’m sure there’s good reason enough.”

“Rumour has it one of his players suggested not competing. Stepping back and letting us two battle it out.”

“Eavesdropping? That’s low, even by your standards.”

“Echoes travel far in these caves. My player couldn’t help but overhear.”

“I find that highly unlikely.” Chief turned to face Pale Dexter, her cobalt eyes interrogating his. “This must be a fair Contest. Any misadventure will not be tolerated. There has to be trust between us.”

“It is you who lacks trust to imply such a thing is even possible. We have shared a code of honour for two hundred years. A little respect at this testing time would serve us well.”

“As would privacy.”

“It was unintentional.”

Chief set her jaw.

Pale Dexter smiled. “Anyway,” he continued. “You and Bend Sinister converse from time to time. Do you know why he has called this assembly?”

“No. I…”

Breathless and flustered, Bend Sinister appeared. “My apologies to you both. One of my players was taken ill. I had to attend to him.”

Pale Dexter failed to repress his amusement.

Chief caught his look and sought to compensate. “I am sorry to hear that. I trust his illness is not grave? Can I do anything to assist? I have a healer among my players.”

“I am grateful for your kind offer, Chief. But no, it is not serious and will pass with rest and nourishment, I feel sure.”

“Well, now that we’ve settled that…” said Pale Dexter, taking up space in the centre of the cave and projecting his voice. “You have summoned us to an unscheduled assembly, Bend Sinister. Please, enlighten us as to the reason.”

“The matter is most distressing. I have just received news from a follower overground. Bluemantle is absent, feared captured.”

“Oh no,” cried Chief, hands to mouth.

Pale Dexter gaped at Bend Sinister. “Are you sure? Can this be verified? You realise what this means… Perhaps they are mistaken?”

“It appears unlikely. The follower has spoken to others with connections to Bluemantle. Consensus is that he’s been taken. His work is known to the A. He will not cooperate and they will not let him live. Therefore, we must assume Bluemantle is no more. And, as that appears to be the case, I urge us to take a moment to reflect upon the loss before we dissect the implications.”

The three Troubadours bowed their heads and stood in silence. Even the distant sound of water’s perpetual course could not be heard.

Eventually, Bend Sinister raised his head and said, “Since his intervention, we have come to rely on Bluemantle. He has been both herald and champion, our bridge to followers both committed and potential. Attendance at our events is due to his actions, conducted at great personal risk. The growth in our following is proof of our great debt to him. Without Bluemantle, we must be prepared for our fortunes to reverse. Without a way of spreading the word, no one will know to come.”

“There must be someone else,” said Pale Dexter, dropping the posturing to unmask the shock that overwhelmed him.

“Bluemantle was both man and his creation. Such remarkable skill. Unparalleled.”

“But someone else could learn the skills; or else establish an alternative means of spreading the word.”

“With sufficient security? Don’t you see? What made Bluemantle exceptional was the complexity of the encryption. Despite their most determined efforts, the Authority has never been able to crack the code. It took immense skill to bury the information so deeply yet render it decipherable for those eyes intended to read it. We can make enquiries, of course. Consult our followers. Yet, I believe we’ve always known, Bluemantle’s was a unique talent.”

“Then what do we do?” said Chief, her voice trembling.

Bend Sinister sighed, shaking his head. “In terms of the future, I’m at a loss to know. But for now, we have a Contest to hold. Bluemantle completed his final commission: word is out. We shall hold the Contest in Bluemantle’s memory. Whoever wins will be our leader. It will be their responsibility to safeguard the future of the Scene. They must decide what is to be done.”

The three Troubadours looked to each other, inwardly processing this altered prospect of triumph.

–

The district of Aldar Point, skirting the south of Coxen Lyme, was home to a swathe of semi-derelict industrial units – a sprawling maze of crumbling concrete and rusting steel. By day, the state’s lowest-grade workers operated machine relics, processing animal feed, tanning hide, threading iron bolts. Most worked twelve-hour shifts, enduring the most dismal of conditions in sullen silence. By night, Aldar Point became a dead zone.

In the basement of a disused factory, buried in darkness, crouched Cole. He held his knees to his chest, arms trembling, eyes wide. It was well over twenty-four hours since the A had stormed his quarters. Cole had not slept.

The images flickered in his mind: jumpcuts of horror.

It had been dawn, the cool grey of first light revealing shapes in the dust cloud. Before then, Cole had ventured home once since the argument – a window of opportunity when he knew Evan wouldn’t be home. He couldn’t face him