BLUEMANTLE, Karen Langston [best classic romance novels TXT] 📗

Dent’s work-life imbalance. The room was small and featureless: a desk at one end, a few wooden chairs against one wall, a large, pin-filled map of Wydeye pasted on another.

Wulfwin spat the words through grinding teeth. “Now, just so you know, I’ve stuck my neck on the line for you. Fuck knows why because right now I think I’d rather sacrifice your scalp to get her off my case.” He stopped in front of Dent and leant in towards his face so their noses almost touched. “Tell me I didn’t make an error of judgement. Tell me I don’t need to doubt your loyalty to our respected Governor and the mighty Authority, of which she is supreme leader.”

Dent’s eyes widened and looked directly into Wulfwin’s. He leant his head back so he could focus, given the close proximity. “No, sir. You did not make an error of judgement. I am and have always been loyal to Governor Blix. I serve her will and the rule of the Authority.”

Wulfwin twisted his face, his scar extending the sneer that had crept across it. “That’s what fascinates me about you, Lore. Textbook allegiance, but with all the passion of a dying goat.” He stepped backwards to appraise the full extent of his subject. “I’ve just informed you that Blix is considering charging you with treason. Me too, as it happens, if I’ve judged you wrong.”

“And I swear my loyalty is unwavering. She is a fair leader. I trust that she will believe in my dedication if there is ever call for me to prove it.”

“Such a time has come, so let’s hope you’re right.”

“What do you mean? She has found cause to doubt me?”

“One word, Lore. Recruitment.”

Dent looked ahead, adjusting his breathing to maintain his poise.

“Or,” continued Wulfwin, “to be more specific, lack thereof. I put it to Blix that our mission was compromised, that it may have been a success had you recruited enough gimps to do the fucking job.” He resumed his slow circumambulation of his charge. “In my infinite wisdom, I assured her that it was not, as she suspected, a lack of loyalty that had compelled you to pay sod-all regard to the plain-as-day orders I had given you. Instead, I intimated that it was something else that resulted in your piss-poor effort.” He stopped directly behind Dent, locked his arm around his neck and bent it back so that his bulging eyes were forced to stare at the ceiling. “Enlighten me.”

Dent was released only after he’d turned crimson and had begun to choke. It took him a few moments to recover, affording him time to consider his response. He knew he couldn’t tell Wulfwin the truth. For a man who relished cruelty as an occupational perk, a confession on the influence of compassion would not be well received. He had to think fast. When he could drag out his coughing no further, he said, “I’ve been working on the Test. I believe there’s scope to assess potential for high-functioning aural capability with less severe adjustment.”

Brows raised, Wulfwin nodded slowly. “Okay. Elaborate.”

“The current measures of adjustment are effective, but the consequence of some have a negative impact on performance. Not the surgically achieved anosmia – that works well and I maintain it’s an effective intervention. I’m talking specifically of the adjustment to achieve blindness.”

“That’s been policy from the start. We know for a fact it heightens aural functioning. What’s the issue, Lore?”

“The issue is that the majority of recruits undergo the surgery because they don’t currently achieve the benchmark score for a sighted Allear. At present, seventy-eight per cent of my resources can’t see. As I’m sure you appreciate, this inevitably has a detrimental impact on performance in the field.” Gaining confidence in his off-the-cuff theory, Dent spoke with conviction. “If more of them could see where they were going, the Allears would do a faster, better job.”

“An observation that is blindingly obvious.”

Dent didn’t respond. He could see he’d sown a seed of intrigue in Wulfwin’s mind. He remained silent, watching, waiting for it to take root.

Wulfwin walked over to Dent’s desk and sat behind it, leaning back, feet up. “Go on then, hit me with it. Where’s this mysterious scope in the Test?”

From there, Dent knew he was on safe ground. Wulfwin’s expertise was all about muscle and mayhem. He didn’t understand the science. Knowing this, Dent peppered his explanation with incomprehensible terminology, whilst ensuring Wulfwin would grasp enough of the gist to be won over. He concluded by saying, “I’ve almost completed the proposed enhancements and was on the verge of presenting them to you. If you are happy to approve them, I can implement them in time for the scheduled assessment date.”

Wulfwin stared at Dent, piecing together the parts he could understand, assimilating the results. Then he slowly nodded his head. “I believe you’ve just saved your scalp,” he said. “I’m on board. You’re authorised to go ahead.”

Relieved that his ploy had paid off, Dent’s mind went straight to work on how to create the fictitious changes within the timeframe. He calculated he had just under two weeks – challenging, but plausible.

Wulfwin stood up and headed towards the door. At the threshold he turned around and said, “By the way, Blix has put me in charge of recruitment, so you’re relieved of the burden. Assessment and training remain your responsibility. No need to present the changes to me. Proceed with their implementation. I’m bringing the Test forward. You’ve got three days.”

Chapter Twelve

Deep underground, a gas lamp flickered. Before it danced three shadows, seeping from feet unmoving. The Troubadours stood a few paces apart, heads almost touching the cave’s low ceiling. Somewhere, water followed its path of centuries, carving space from stone.

“I hope it was worth it,” hissed Pale Dexter, a flint edge to his voice.

Chief flicked back her silver dreads and crossed her arms.

“What’s done is done,” said Bend Sinister. “They did not find us. Ourselves and our players remain safe.”

“That does not excuse the