“One apprentice agent, actually.”
Seriously? Who waited the full five years to take their field agent examination? Granted, there were exceptions, and it was certainly allowed. Most agents wanted to pass their exam that first year and start field work. Henry shook his head. “I’ve done more than my fair share of evaluations. Find someone else.”
“As I mentioned, this is a delicate situation.”
“And you need me in particular?”
“Indeed, I do. The apprentice agent in question is unlikely to pass the examination.”
Failure was rare, although every few years it did happen. These situations were always fraught with emotion and politics.
“She also hails from an old family.”
Make that highly fraught.
“I’m sorry to say it’s time to retire that line,” Botten continued, not sounding the least bit sorry.
“Old family?”
“The Little line.”
No, that couldn’t be right. In his last mission, Henry had relied heavily on Rose Little’s research on desert Screamers. Decades on, her white papers were still one of the best resources in the entire Enclave.
“Rose Little is legendary,” Henry said.
“Hm, yes.” Now it was Botten’s turn to scoff. “But she married a local. As luck, or perhaps genetics, would have it, the daughter did not inherit her mother’s ability. I’m afraid even a benign permanent post is beyond her capabilities.”
“And you need me to do what, exactly?”
“You’ll need to meet with Rose, explain the situation. I know her reputation is fiery, but at heart, Rose is a realist. As I said, a delicate situation, but one I know you can manage. Besides, I suspect hearing the news from you will smooth the way. She and your father were close.”
Close. Which meant what? Botten didn’t elaborate, and Henry wasn’t about to ask. He raised an eyebrow instead. “Shouldn’t I administer the examination first?”
“What? Yes, of course, my boy. Don’t expect the outcome to be anything but disappointing.”
So, in this case, failure was a forgone conclusion. “Right.”
“We’ll need you to stay on as the acting agent until a new permanent post one can be assigned.”
No. Full stop. Absolutely not. It was one thing to fail an apprentice agent and then retire the entire family line. It was quite another to step into the role of a permanent post agent, even briefly. That sort of assignment was a harbinger; the most likely outcome was remaining a permanent post agent.
“Someone else can handle that portion of things.”
“That’s not an option.” Botten’s voice lost its joviality. The corners of his mouth turned down, his gaze steely and uncompromising. “Let me be frank. If you wish to stay in the field, you need to take this assignment, all of it.”
Screw the quiet part. Henry wanted—needed—Botten to spell this out. “Or else?”
“There are those on the High Council who believe you’re close to burning out, that your father’s death was too much, that you need a respite.”
Henry wouldn’t be the first field agent forced to recuperate. This entire situation was ridiculous. Made-up games that the High Council liked to play. He had another decade in the field, at least. He wasn’t about to give that up.
“Of course, if you prefer a reassignment to headquarters?—”
“No. That’s fine. I’ll take the job.”
“I thought as much.” Botten clapped him on the shoulder. “Your flight’s all arranged, gear ready for pickup, and you have access to all the records you’ll need, including your original evaluation from the Academy.”
Botten headed down the stairs, his steps nimble, his mood light once again. At the midpoint, where the staircase curved and flowed into the entryway, he paused.
