BLUEMANTLE

aren’t you a brave boy. Picking up secrets from the streets and coming to the Exchange. I’m afraid the price for a wrap just went up.”
The child looked up in horror, his mouth open.
“Tell me who those men are, then we trade.” He pulled a cosh from inside his coat and turned back to the man. “Leave us alone,” he hissed.
–
“Let’s just say I helped the boy understand the benefits of sharing.” Wulfwin stood opposite Governor Blix, who was sat behind her desk in her office. He rubbed hand over fist, his sneer pronounced. “A little persuasion can go a long way on one so young.”
“He gave you their names.”
“No. Turns out he genuinely doesn’t know them. But he did, eventually, give a good enough description for us to find the men and bring them in. We’re holding them in C-Block.”
“Excellent.” Blix leant forward. “I trust you’ve made a start.”
“They’re being treated to a warm-up as we speak. I came straight here to appraise you. I will head over there next – encourage them to open up.”
“The boy.”
“Aside from a few breaks and bruises, he got what he came for. I released him.”
Bix nodded. “I understand his mother’s an addict. Keep the child on side. He could prove useful. And maybe hold back on the physical. We don’t want him too afraid to trade.”
“As you wish.”
Blix stood up and walked to the window, gazing past the Complex to the city beyond. “If the rumours are true, this event could not come at a worse time. There is an unease out there, latent yet tangible. Despite our messaging, the swallow hole has caused a contagion. I’ve read your latest report. The citizens are becoming infected by irrational fear, the influence of which is destabilising, more so on the multitude than the individual.
“This is textbook mass psychogenic hysteria. The hole is the common trigger – a shared terror. The disease is spreading rapidly, a virus sustained by anxiety and the fear it will happen again. We’re not there yet, but it could reach epidemic proportions.
“We must be on guard. Whilst the individual citizen is malleable, en masse, they are volatile. And when already vulnerable, as they are now, their propensity for hysterical reaction is manifold. The threat to civil order cannot be underestimated. I witnessed Rideout, remember; I have seen what influence a mobilised crowd can achieve.” She turned to face Wulfwin. “And let us not forget, the Music Makers are still out there.”
Wulfwin spoke in a deep, controlled voice. “With the intelligence we now have, coupled with the fact the Allears are already deployed and listening, we will locate the event before it gets out of hand.”
“That being so, we are wise to be prepared.” Her sharp, crisp suit contradicted the fluster in her voice. “Commander Lore. His last report to you.”
“First thing this morning. His men are on rotation. All dishes are attended around the clock. Other units are on patrol. I’m satisfied they are on point.”
“Good.” Blix hesitated, then returned to her desk. She perched on its corner, hands in her lap. “I have confidence you have this under control, Wulfwin.” If she knew how to smile, she might have done so in that moment. Instead, a deep breath and raised eyebrows punctuated the change in subject. “On to brighter matters. An update on Project Alpha.”
A year ago, a citizen had offered a lump of iridescent rock for trade at the Exchange. Information regarding its source was duly extracted: the man had found it beside a recent rock fall on the north face of Lyun Mountain. Thoroughly gagged by non-disclosure contracts, a trusted state geologist investigated the site. His report confirmed the presence of opal deposits in a seam of crystallised rock.
Wydeye functioned within its means, but there was no margin to absorb a deficit and no scope for fiscal growth. Ever ambitious, even at the top, Blix sought opportunities to diversify. With the prospect of a wealth source to elevate her legacy, Blix had launched Project Alpha.
“A second deep seam has been found,” said Wulfwin. “Engineers are sinking further shafts to intersect the layer. They’re trying to determine the extent of the field before scoping the next phase of the project.”
“All according to plan. Most pleasing.” Blix’s eyes glazed momentarily, before snapping back into focus. “It is imperative they remain discrete. Word must not get out.”
“They have signed the necessary agreements and are fully appraised of the consequence of reneging.”
“Good. Progress is reassuring.” She moved around her desk and slid into her chair. “This is good news for the city, Wulfwin. It’s a game-changer.” She looked into his eyes, betraying a trace of excitement in her own. Finding no reciprocation, she said, “That is all. You may go.”
As Wulfwin turned and left her office, Blix picked up a small cabochon of polished opal, revolving it in her long fingers, catching the play of colour. The object was solid, tangible, held firmly in her grasp. Its surface was smooth, faultless. The rippling colour hinted at reward.
Possession, she thought. You delicate dominion. Why can’t it all be this way?
–
“You don’t have to go through with it, Chase,” said Naylor. “Ursel said she’d go on her own.”
It was Sunday evening. Naylor and Chase had caught the railmotor to Five Wents and were walking beneath the Elevated on First. The underpass was crowded. Authority motorcycles jostled with carters, citizens skirted begging Wethers, stray goats searched for scraps. All were headed towards the Pentagon, a huge, paved space from which spread the Wents – a giant starfish laying prostrate in the city’s centre.
Chase pulled at his strap shirt, which clung to the sweat on his back. “You heard her. I don’t understand, apparently.”
“So, what, you take the risk to prove a point?”
“No. I take the risk to find Wella.”
“But there’s no need. We keep up the search here and leave Ursel to check out the show. She’s part of the Scene, presumably she’ll be going anyway. If she’s right and Wella’s there, then