Chief stepped forward and placed her hands on her hips. “We’ve also earnt this opportunity. We’ve cooperated under Saltire’s lead for forty-five years. Time someone else had a turn at the top.”
“We managed perfectly well before, in the early years,” said Bend Sinister from the shadows.
“Life was different then and you know it,” said Pale Dexter. “We need a plan. I see no point in delaying what is in the best interests of us all. Balance must be restored. We just need to decide how.”
“But not today,” said Bend Sinister.
Pale Dexter glared at him, his cryptic ink glistening beneath the gas lamps’ glow. “We move on, then,” he said, his tone clipped. He turned to Chief. “To the business of the hour. You called us together, Chief. You have our attention. Say your piece.”
Chief stood before them and cleared her throat. “I had wanted to delay raising the issue out of respect for Saltire, but I cannot. My hand is forced.”
“Explain.”
“The schedule. I am due to play. In the absence of a leader, I am seeking your approval to prepare.”
“Now is not the time,” he snapped.
“It is my time. The schedule confirms this.”
“It is a distraction from what must be our priority.”
“I take it you don’t mean a respectful mourning period for Saltire?” said Bend Sinister.
Pale Dexter spun around. “You know full well what I mean.”
“The matter of leadership can wait,” said Chief. “My turn cannot. I need to play.”
Bend Sinister turned to Chief. “It’s too dangerous. My followers have warned of heightened activity overground. The hole has left citizens afraid. The Authority is attempting to hear disaster before it happens. Whispers of prophecy.”
“We can’t risk detection,” agreed Pale Dexter. “Their fear is reactionary. The precautions will be short-lived.”
“I can’t risk putting that assumption to the test.” Chief held out her arms. “Look at me. Look at my colour. I grow weak. I’m overdue as it is. Consider yourself in my place. You know full well what this means.”
Bend Sinister sighed. “She’s right.”
“No. It’s too great a risk, as you said. And a distraction. We should focus on the leadership question first. Then return to the schedule.”
“Please,” said Chief.
Pale Dexter shook his head and crossed his arms.
Chief looked imploringly to Bend Sinister, who stepped forward and said, “Saltire was our leader for nigh on half a century. But prior to that, we enjoyed balance through democracy for over 150 years. It strikes me that, until such time as we determine Saltire’s successor, we can return to that once-familiar state.” He held up his right hand. “Let us put it to a vote.”
Chief held her hand to her chest and nodded, a faint smile betraying her relief.
Pale Dexter set his jaw and said, “May the cost of this risk fall entirely in your hands. My players and followers must remain safe.” He turned to Chief. “You bring detection upon yourself. I will have no part in this plan.” He spun on his heels and stormed out of the cave.
“Two against one,” said Bend Sinister. “You may play. Summon Bluemantle.”
–
Overground, Cole crushed the nettle leaves in a mortar and pestle, scraping the pulp into a chipped enamel jug. He poured hot water into the jug, then stirred with a wooden spoon. Behind him, sat Evan.
They were in the kitchen of Cole’s box flat in Tempur in the Hundred of Wickerwood. Cole was forty, with a slight frame, curly brown hair and an intense expression that made people feel anxious without knowing why. Anxious, that was, unless you knew him well. Evan was Cole’s partner. He knew Cole better than anyone. Evan didn’t feel anxious in response to Cole’s expression; he felt helpless, and sometimes afraid.
Evan studied Cole’s movements as he made tea – a pattern of actions that appeared more ritual than culinary. He observed how Cole lifted a jar of honey from the shelf in front of him, reaching up and grasping without looking. His left hand felt blindly to the side, pulled open a drawer and felt for a spoon. Evan studied the back of Cole’s neck. A pulse at the nape pumped the sweating skin. He refused to look at the scar that streaked across his back. Even knowing it was there pained him.
Cole added honey, stirred again, then poured the liquid into two small glasses. Flecks of nettle floated in silent suspension. He hesitated a moment, his hands resting on the worktop. Evan watched. The pulse quickened.
It was the briefest of moments, almost over the instant it began. But it was long enough for Evan to read its portent. Before he had time to ask the question, however, Cole flicked the radio on. “…stationed throughout the city. Highly trained personnel, best placed to detect sounds that indicate movement. An early warning system poised in protection of the city. You are safe. Think about it. It’s all good. Citizens of Wydeye…”
Cole grunted and switched off the radio. “Drives me fucking crazy,” he said.
“I saw them earlier. Allears and Deaf Squad everywhere. Maybe they know something we don’t, that there’s going to be another hole.”
Cole placed the glasses of tea on the table and sat down opposite Evan. “It’s a farce. As if they could hear something in time to do anything about it.”
“Still, better than nothing.”
“Careful, now. You’ve been listening to the radio too much. Influence by stealth. Their bullshit works through osmosis.” He held up his fists, boxer-style. “Guard up, remember.”
“Just now, before you turned the radio on…”
“What?”
“There’s something you need to tell me.”
Cole picked up his glass, turned it slowly between ink-stained fingers, then placed it back on the table. “I’ve had word from underground. Chief wants to see me.”
Evan’s face dropped; his shoulders sagged. “Must you go?”
“Must we go through this every time?” Cole caught his partner’s wince and the regret of his words stung. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s just that with Special Forces out on the street… They’re not just listening. They’re watching too.”
“I know.” He shook his
