by William King
I thought I detected a look of satisfaction on General Crassus’s toad face. Anything that weakened Macharius’s position must strengthen his. Just at that moment his mask slipped a little and I knew who the chief conspirator against Macharius must be. As luck would have it, he glanced around and caught me looking at him. Our eyes met for a moment and he seemed to be weighing me up, considering me, then he let his glance slide away. I was not fooled – he knew who I was and he would remember me.
Logan Grimnar rose from where he had been sitting, the last of the Space Wolves to depart. His small retinue remained watching him as he loped over to Macharius and extended his hand.
‘We have shed blood together, and fought beside each other. I owe you a debt of honour and it will be repaid.’ I thought then that he was merely being diplomatic, throwing a sop to the Lord High Commander to soften the departure of his Chapter, but events were to prove differently.
Suddenly Cardinal Septimus looked a little less smug and General Crassus considerably more wary. Macharius smiled and said, ‘I thank you, my friend. I will not forget this.’
He looked directly at Crassus and at the cardinal and said, ‘I will not forget any of this.’
After the feast we escorted Macharius to his chambers. Once he was through the doors he seemed to shrink in on himself, to become a smaller man. He looked tired and angry and somehow diminished. I could see how much of a strain the banquet had been on him. He walked over to a cabinet, opened it and poured himself a drink, then slumped down in his chair.
He looked up at me and said, ‘The Great Wolf did you more honour than he did me, Lemuel.’
I met his gaze and wondered how angry he was. There was a skull-like quality to his appearance, a gauntness I had not really noticed before, a tightness to the skin of his face. It came to me then that Macharius was very old, and he was finally showing his age, perhaps even dying. Even juvenat has its limits, after all.
‘I am sorry about that, sir,’ I said eventually. There did not seem to be much else that I could say. Macharius looked down at his regicide board, lifted a piece and toyed with it. ‘They think it’s over,’ he said, so softly that no one but me could have heard it.
‘Sir?’ I was not sure whether he wanted to be overheard, whether he was even talking to me.
‘I said they think it’s over, that I am finished, that they can simply replace me and that things will go on.’
‘I don’t think they can, sir,’ I said. They could, but it did not seem my place to say it.
‘The Space Marines are going because they think there is no longer glory to be won here. The vultures will see this as a sign to attack.’
I kept quiet. He was speaking to himself, as old people sometimes do, as I could recall them doing back in the hive cities of Belial in my youth. More than ever I found myself wondering about Macharius’s health, mental and otherwise.
‘I will not be replaced until I am ready,’ said Macharius. ‘My work is not yet done.’
Looking at him then I wondered if he would think his work was ever done. He had lived on the absolute peak of power for so long I do not think he could imagine living anywhere else. And yet perhaps he was close to realising that in the whole Imperium there was only one man who was irreplaceable and he was encased in the Golden Throne. He rose from the chair, prowled over to a cabinet, produced a map and smoothed it out on the surface of a table. I recognised it at once. It was a map of Loki. He studied it with the intensity of a man contemplating his soul’s salvation. I noticed that parts of it had been marked in blood-red ink. I suspected the map was part of the parcel of documents Drake had brought earlier.
After a moment, he seemed to realise that I was still there. ‘That will be all, Lemuel,’ he said.
I saluted and left him to himself.
Inquisitor Drake awaited me in my rooms. There was no need to ask how he had got there. There were no security systems he could not bypass and he was capable of ensuring that Ivan and Anton would not notice him. I was sure the pair were snoring away in their own chambers.
‘You have come from the Lord High Commander’s chamber,’ Drake said. It was not a question. He knew everything that went on within the palace.
‘Yes,’ I said. I stared at him, and considered demanding that either he told me what he wanted or he got out. The feast, the departure of the Space Wolves and my last glimpse of Macharius had left me depressed. In the end, though, it turned out I was not quite so depressed as to be tired of living, so I remained silent.
‘What did you think?’
‘He is not best pleased by the Space Wolves departure,’ I said. ‘He sees it as a blow to his prestige.’
‘Obviously, Lemuel. Obviously. I meant what did you think of him. How did he seem to you?’
‘Tired.’
‘Tired? Is that all?’
‘Is that not enough? For a man like Macharius to be tired is unthinkable. I have never seen him like this before. It’s…’
The word had left my mouth before I could recall it. Drake stood taller and more attentively. It was too much to hope that he had not noticed.
‘It’s what?’ he said. ‘You were going to say something.’
‘Nothing,’ I said.
‘Do not lie to me, Sergeant Lemuel. We have known each other too long for that to work.’
I supposed it was true, but I found myself resenting this calm, authoritative man with his aura of absolute certainty, of knowing me better than I knew myself.
‘Speak!’ he said and I am sure there was some powerful compulsion laced into his words, backed by his strange psyker powers.
‘He seems old, as if the juvenat has ceased to work, as if he is wearing out.’
The words hung in the air for a long time. Neither of us said anything. Drake took a seat in one the chairs. He poured himself a drink from a hip flask and then much to my astonishment, he offered me one. I took it, wondering if perhaps it was poisoned. I dismissed the idea. If Drake wanted me dead, I would be dead.
‘The juvenat has ceased working,’ he said, at last.
‘No,’ I said. I simply did not want to believe it.
‘It stops working for everybody, eventually,’ Drake said. ‘Otherwise we would all live to be as old as the Emperor.’
He took a sip of his drink then raised it to the light and turned it with his long slender fingers. He looked at it from all angles and I began to wonder whether despite appearances the inquisitor might not be somewhat drunk. His powers enabled him to process as much alcohol as a Space Marine with as little effect if he wished it, but perhaps he did not wish it, this night of all nights.
‘I have seen the medical reports,’ Drake said. ‘His body is suffering from advanced metabolic deterioration. It does not really show yet, but the process is accelerating. It will affect him mentally eventually, if it has not already.’ There was a certainty in his manner that made it impossible to doubt him.
‘You are saying that he is dying, that all those halted years are going to catch up with him?’
Drake nodded. ‘In a way that will likely be most unpleasant.’
‘Why are you telling me?’
‘Because you are as close to him as anyone. You will notice it sooner or later, if you have not already.’
Once it had been pointed out, it was impossible not to remember the tiny slips, the small failures.
‘Do you really think he would have lost on Loki if he had been the same man as he was on Karsk?’ Drake asked.
‘Is this why the Imperium wants him replaced?’
Drake shook his head. ‘The Imperium does not want him replaced. People want him replaced, people with a great deal of power within the Imperium. And the people who want him replaced want him replaced so that they can have his power, prestige and position. Some of them want to be the next Macharius. Most of them simply want power. Macharius is just an obstacle in the way of their ambitions.’
‘He cannot be replaced,’ I said. ‘He is a great ma
n. None greater.’
‘You know that. I know that. There are people who choose to believe otherwise. Worse, there are people who would disgrace him if they could, for they do not like to live in a world containing those greater than themselves. They would pull him down to their level if they could. He has outwitted them for a long time but he is slipping. Everyone does eventually.’
‘Even you, inquisitor?’
‘That remains to be seen,’ he said, ‘but yes, one day perhaps, even me.’
‘Once again I ask you why you are telling me this.’
‘Perhaps because I have to tell somebody, and you at least are trustworthy. Also, you are close to Macharius. If you notice anything, you will tell me.’
‘You are very certain of that.’
‘It is in Macharius’s best interests and it is in your best interests. These are dangerous times, for all of us.’
I wondered then at the pressure Drake must have felt himself to be under. He was a friend and long-time comrade of Macharius, one of the architects of the crusade, and yet he too was a servant of the Imperium and somewhere he too must have hidden masters with their own agenda.
‘You won’t let them replace him, will you?’ I don’t know to this day why I asked. Perhaps I simply sought reassurance.
‘Replace him, no. You were correct earlier. He is irreplaceable.’
He departed, leaving me with much to think about.
Seventeen
The next morning, Macharius looked like his old self. It was as if the previous evening had been a bad dream and I had imagined what I had seen and my conversation with Drake. I would have been a lot happier if that had been the case.
Drake was in Macharius’s council chamber. He gave no sign that we had talked the night before. Tarka was there and Crassus and the other generals. Macharius greeted them all affably, and it was obvious, looking at them, that they were surprised by how good his mood was. I wondered if this was just his way of keeping his rivals off-balance. It was always something Macharius had excelled at.
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ Macharius said. ‘I have good news for you. Before I depart for Holy Terra, I intend to settle matters once and for all with Richter and his heretics, and leave the crusade in a much stronger position.’
Cardinal Septimus shot Macharius a surprised look. Clearly he had not been expecting anything like this. ‘How do you propose to do that, Lord High Commander?’ he asked.
Macharius tapped the side of his nose. ‘At the moment that must remain a secret, but I have discovered a huge flaw in the enemy’s defences.’
‘It is a pity that you could not have discovered it earlier,’ said General Crassus. All eyes swivelled to look at him. It was a direct criticism of the supreme commander and not one anybody would have dared voice in the past. It was a measure of how much respect for Macharius had slipped, and yet there was something about the Lord High Commander’s manner that had indeed unsettled his potential successors. No one rushed to support Crassus. Everyone waited to hear what Macharius had to say.
He smiled with all his old charm. ‘All of us make mistakes, old comrade,’ he said. ‘Even you have.’
The words hung in the air, leaving everyone to wonder whether Macharius meant during some past campaign or whether he was referring to the current campaign to have him replaced. It was an ambiguity no one, least of all General Crassus, seemed to want to have cleared up.
‘How long will this take?’ Cardinal Septimus asked.
‘No more than a month,’ said Macharius. ‘Certainly no longer than it will take for your ship to be prepared for the long voyage to Terra.’
‘It would perhaps be as well for you to inform us of the weaknesses you have discovered in the defences of Loki,’ said General Tarka. ‘In case anything should happen to you.’
He sounded serious – he clearly hadn’t lost all of his respect for Macharius’s military prowess. He believed that if Macharius said he had found a flaw then a flaw there must be. It was only natural. With a record like Macharius’s, most people would have believed that.
‘What could possibly happen to me here on Acheron?’ said Macharius. ‘I am surrounded by the finest troops of the Imperium. No enemy threatens. I am in perfect health.’
Tarka opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but then snapped it closed again. I wondered if Drake was the only one who had access to the Lord High Commander’s medical records. Such a thing was supposed to be a very closely guarded secret, but bribes could buy almost anything provided they were big enough.
Cardinal Septimus glanced at Tarka and something wordless seemed to pass between them. The general said nothing more. I wondered if Macharius really had found a chink in the heretics’ defences and part of me agreed with what Crassus had said. It was indeed a pity that Macharius had not spotted it before all the slaughter we had endured there. I kept my face expressionless. The important thing was that Macharius had found us a route to victory.
I could not let myself doubt that.
The Drunken Ratling was crowded. Sergei Krimov made space for me in the corner booth. He ordered drinks and introduced me to a couple of friends. They were not from his regiment, though they wore the uniform. They did not sound like Belial Hivers. They did not sound like anybody from Belial at all.
They did not look at all daunted by the suspicious looks I shot at them. ‘These are friends of mine,’ Sergei said. ‘They wanted to meet you and I could not see the harm.’
His face was carefully bland but I guessed that this was anything but a chance meeting. Perhaps the whole thing was a setup from our very first encounter. I took a drink and tried not to let the thoughts show on my face.
‘This is Konstantin and this is Mikhail,’ said Sergei. If those were their real names, I was a Space Wolf. I toyed with saying so, but it hardly seemed diplomatic. Konstantin was a big man with cropped hair and a nose that had been flattened by a blow of great force. Mikhail was smaller and lighter. He had a writhing way of turning that made me think of a weasel.
‘Pleased to make your acquaintance,’ said Konstantin. Mikhail said nothing.
‘Likewise,’ I said. ‘Which part of the Masterforge do you hail from?’
Konstantin ignored my question, probably because he did not have an answer for it. Instead, he said, ‘You are one of the heroes who guard the Lord High Commander.’
‘I am part of the Lion Guard,’ I said. ‘The uniform gives it away, I suppose.’
‘It is a post of quite awesome responsibility,’ Konstantin said, ‘and no few risks.’
‘The life of a Guardsman is full of those,’ I said, ‘as you must know yourself.’
The more I talked with Konstantin and looked at Mikhail, the less I was sure this was true. There was something about their manner that suggested they had never been common soldiers, had perhaps never been soldiers at all.
‘True, true,’ he said, ‘but defending Macharius must be especially dangerous. There are assassins everywhere…’
‘Surely not here on Acheron,’ I said. ‘No one could be so disloyal.’
‘Alas, perhaps even here,’ said Konstantin. He had quite a light voice for so large a man, and a confiding tone of voice.
‘If you know of any conspiracy against the Lord High Commander you should inform the proper authorities,’ I said.
‘Perhaps that is what I am doing,’ he said. Mikhail studied his drink, studied his fingernails, glanced at me and returned to studying his drink. I wondered exactly who he was and what he was doing here.
‘Perhaps?’ Sergei rose from the table and said, ‘I shall get some more drinks.’ It seemed he did not want to be present for this part of the conversation.
‘You do not seem so surprised about talk of a conspiracy,’ said Konstantin. ‘Perhaps you have heard talk of such things, of such disloyalty.’
‘I have heard that there are those who are not happy with the Lord High Commander’s recent generalship.’
‘There
are always disaffected souls,’ said Konstantin. I was starting to wonder who he really was. Could he perhaps be one of Drake’s agents testing my loyalty? Or was he something else. ‘There are those who plot a change in the leadership of the crusade.’
I said nothing. There are times when it is best simply to keep your mouth shut. Konstantin looked at Mikhail, as if seeking support, but the smaller one seemed too wrapped up in the contemplation of his glass, so Konstantin went on speaking.
‘A man who uncovered such a conspiracy could become wealthy,’ he said.
I wondered if he was seeking a reward for information. It seemed unlikely. There were far better people to approach if such were the case. Of course, it was possible that I was the only potential contact he had.
‘Perhaps,’ I said.
‘You could become a wealthy man if you uncovered such a conspiracy.’ There was a strange emphasis on the way he said the words, and I suddenly became aware that Mikhail, despite all appearances to the contrary, was paying close attention to what was being said. He seemed in some subtle way to be straining at an invisible leash.
‘Perhaps,’ I said.
‘You would like to become a wealthy man,’ Mikhail said. He was making a statement, passing a considered judgement.
‘Who would not?’
‘As one of Macharius’s Guards you must be rich already.’
‘You are sadly misinformed if you think that.’
‘The Lord High Commander is not generous?’
‘The Lord High Commander expects his soldiers to perform the duties they swore to. Service to the Emperor is reward enough.’
‘And you believe in doing your duty?’
‘I believe in serving the Emperor.’
‘Serving Macharius is not the same as serving the Emperor.’
‘At the moment it is,’ I said.
‘Ah, at the moment,’ said Mikhail. ‘That is an important qualification.’
‘And if Macharius were to be replaced, as it seems he is, you would serve his successor just as loyally.’
‘Of course,’ I said.
