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

Silence. Wella picked at brittle leaves. Chase boxed inside himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually, voice taut and trembling. “No excuses. I should’ve kept in touch.”

“In the meantime, you’ve got yourself in trouble. What’s the score with the A?”

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Look, it’s complicated, okay?” he said, his teeth gritted. “Suffice to say I can’t go back into Wydeye. Not for a while, at least.”

“And the alternative is? You can’t stay out here. And there’s nowhere else to go. Unless you steal an Authority truck or stow away on a goods train, you’re stuck. There’s a reason for that and you know it. Don’t go pretending you’ve got options.” She glared at Chase, trying to read his hunched shoulders and fidgeting fingers. “What’s the deal with Ursel?” She watched him flinch and turn away.

“I found a copy of Bluemantle in your quarters with her name on. She said she’d help me find you. She took me underground.”

“She must’ve trusted you.” This time she saw a pained wince contort his face. “You like her, don’t you?”

Chase dropped his head. “There’s something about her. I don’t know. She made me open my eyes. I started to see things differently.” He held his hands to his face. “I can’t bear to think—”

“Another reason why we’ve got to go back. If you care about Ursel, you can’t hide out here while they’ve got her. You know the score. You know what they’ll do to her.”

“But what can I do? There’s no way—”

“So what? You just give up? You don’t even fucking try?” Wella stood up. “Shame you didn’t get to know the Scene a bit better. It could’ve taught you a thing or two about loyalty.” She strapped her canteen to her belt and started walking.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“Creaser. Coming?”

–

The raids on the city had been swift, the violence indiscriminate. Quarters were ransacked, taverns battered by havoc. Although some arrests were made, the modus operandi of the Authority’s blanket attack prioritised message and mayhem. Besides, the Deaf Squad had succeeded in capturing just shy of two hundred followers in the Nanso caves. Along with those still in custody since the last raid, the detention centres couldn’t cope with many more.

Two hundred followers caught in the act. The Scene finally discovered. The nest destroyed. Yet, the mood in Blix’s office was bleak. She stood before Wulfwin, eyes wild. “Without the Music Makers, this means nothing. We’ve achieved nothing. The mission has failed. And I will not tolerate failure.”

Wulfwin glared at her, fighting back his own outrage. He had spent hours tearing through the network of tunnels and caves, roaring as he beat the unyielding stone at each dead end. The Music Makers had been there; he saw one of them on stage, playing, the moment he had entered the cave. He knew they couldn’t just disappear. Yet, somehow, that was exactly what they had done. His chest burnt, a hothouse for fury. Composure was a vulnerable mask that he struggled to preserve.

“They are down there,” continued Blix, pacing the room in stilted steps. “If we can’t find them, we force them out. Gas them. Or flood the caves. I don’t care how it’s done. Dead or alive. I want bodies. I want proof.”

“I will assess all options and report back with a plan.”

“You have one hour.”

“It will take—”

“One hour.”

Wulfwin held her eye contact in wordless challenge. He feigned salute and was about to leave, when Blix said, “Wait. Commander Lore. Perhaps he could have done more.”

“As I have detailed in my report, his Allears made a timely detection. Lore confirmed the sound and located the source. He ascertained that it came from underground. It was him who found the way in.” He stepped forward, scrutinising her face. “What is it? What bothers you about Lore?”

“He is weak. That makes him vulnerable, which makes me lack trust.”

“I vouch for the man.”

“Loyalty is a weakness too.”

“It is not a question of loyalty,” he hissed. “I have witnessed his performance. His actions speak for themselves. If anyone could’ve done more, it’s the sodding sleeper. He’s still off radar.”

“Your confidence in him was misplaced.”

Wulfwin winced. “As I’ve made clear in my report, precautions were followed. Medication checked and up to date. For all we know, he got caught up in the fall-out. Probably lying unconscious somewhere, beaten up by us or them. Either way, we’ll track him down and haul him in.”

“I demand that you do.”

He stared at Blix, fighting the urge to speak his mind. Instead, he said, “If I have one hour to achieve the impossible, I must make a start.” With exhausted effort he added, “By your leave, Governor.”

Blix moved over to her desk and grasped the back of her chair. “Dismissed,” she said, without looking at him. Wulfwin nodded slightly, turned and left the room. She slid down into her chair, her hands splayed on Wulfwin’s report that lay open on the desk. She stared ahead, scratching the back of her hands. Eventually, she picked up a small, black device that sat, blinking, beside the report. She held it to the side of her face, flicked a switch and said, “Get me Allear Commander Dent Lore.”

–

In his cramped quarters in the Authority Complex, Dent stood before a mirror. He stared at his reflection, into the eyes of a man exhumed.

He had fled the cave in a daze, intoxicated by revelation. The discovery was partial, glimpsed through a diaphanous veil of comprehension. Yet the hint of truth was so compelling, so absolutely known, it irreversibly altered his perception of reality. He could only hope that the veil would fall and the full scale of truth would be revealed. In the meantime, all he had was instinct. When the Deaf Squad had stormed the cave in which he stood, he had known he mustn’t be seen there, that he had to escape. He had to pretend he hadn’t witnessed Bend Sinister.

How do I know his name?