Nothing. Though I hoped, against all reason, that I would learn something.
What is this going to accomplish?
Nothing.
Even so, I pushed the door open and climbed onto the roof. It was a narrow, circular space on the peak of the spire. The waist-high guard rail was a sour joke. I stared down. The ground seemed much further away than it did from the bedroom window. My head swam with vertigo. The cobblestones of Malveil’s approach lured me with their mystery.
Do you want to know how Eliana died? There’s a sure way to learn.
I blinked and shook off the spell.
Get down from here. This is serving no purpose.
I left the roof, telling myself that now I would be productive, but instead of returning to my desk, I headed for the ground floor. I was obeying an irrational impulse to go and stand where Eliana had fallen, and look up to where she had stood for the last time. I was midway down the staircase to the ground floor when I heard a child laughing.
I stopped, startled. I believed Karoff that none of the serfs brought their children with them to the house. At the same time, I was not imagining what I had heard. I held my breath, listening intently, trying to hear past the immediately identifiable sounds of the ongoing cleaning and restoration of the house.
The laugh came again, followed by another. There were two voices, somewhere on the ground floor, I thought. I hurried down the stairs, and the laughter pulled me deeper into the house, away from the long, south-facing halls.
I headed down corridors I had not properly explored yet, following the echoes of mirth. The laughter was always just around the next corner, somewhere beyond the next room. The children must have been running. Though I was walking quickly, I was not catching up. And yet I could not hear any footsteps. There was only the laughter, a mocking, silvery bell that pulled me on.
I was soon in a region of the house where the work of restoration had yet to begin. The doorways I passed opened onto chambers of clutter-filled gloom. I took in vague impressions of huge, disordered masses shouldering forward like stumbling hills. Every time I paused, the laughter would ring out again, and I would continue the pursuit.
I asked myself if I was imagining the sound. The flashes of Clostrum that assailed me were so vivid, the memories of the troopers’ screams were almost audible. But when Clostrum claimed me, I never heard the laughter of children. And this sound was clearly outside me. It bounced off the walls. As it moved around and I chased it, it grew more, then less, muffled. It wasn’t in my mind.
You’d better hope it isn’t. If it was, I was losing the ability to distinguish fantasy and reality. I would truly be unfit.
At last the laughter led me into a lesser hall. It, too, had become a storage space. The discarded jumble of years was piled high in chaotic heaps. I could just manage to squeeze between the mounds of clutter, following a twisting path whose footing was treacherous with fallen objects. There was no organisation here. Furniture, portraits, statues, candelabra and journals loomed over me. I passed chests of clothing, of footwear, of correspondence and of miscellaneous debris. It was like descending into an underground cavern, and the light from the torch sconces in the hall became very dim. I could barely see more than a foot in front of me. The path between the heaps was a vague greyness. The towering piles loomed heavily, as if ready to topple.
The laughter had stopped when I entered the hall. Perhaps the children were hiding. Or perhaps they aren’t here at all. I did not know which possibility was less disturbing. Then a familiar shape arrested my progress. It was half buried in the mound on my left, and there was so little light I could easily have missed it.
It was an orrery of Solus’ star system, made of crystal and bronze. My hand hovered over the shape of the planets thrusting out of the heap. I knew this piece because it had not belonged to Leonel. It was Eliana’s, and it had been a fixture in our quarters together. I stared at it, half expecting its silhouette to dissolve into the shadows. I forgot about the laughter that had brought me here and tried to grasp the meaning of what I was seeing.
It was easy enough to understand. It was harder to accept.
I was used to the idea that Leonel had thrown more and more of his life into these rooms, rendering them unusable. But if this was our orrery, then Eliana had done the same.
How long? For how long?
The heap was quite far into the room. The orrery was nowhere near the top of the mound.
What else from our life will I find here?
Karoff saved me from learning more just then.
‘Lord-governor?’ he called.
‘I’m here,’ I said. The orrery remained solid. Speaking did not reveal it to be a hallucination.
Karoff cleared his throat. ‘Your meal is ready, my lord.’
‘Thank you. I’ll be there in a moment.’ I stared at the orrery for a bit longer. I would have to come back here tomorrow, with more light, though I did not look forward to what I would discover.
The laughter still had not returned. I turned to go, prepared to begin the hard process of accepting that my senses had deluded me, and then I saw them, in front and to my right, hidden in the shadows at the edge of a heap. They were so still, I had gone right past them on my way into the far reaches of the hall.
‘Katrin?’ I whispered. ‘Zander?’
They stared at me, their eyes dark holes of night. They were the children I had left behind, not the adult strangers I had met these last two days. Their faces were pale, glowing milkily into the gloom. Their lips were parted in thin, solemn smiles.
They were motionless as death.
I gasped. My flesh prickled with shock. I stood as still as my children.
Only they weren’t my children. They weren’t children at all. They were two porcelain statues, representations of children who had died, if they had ever existed, generations ago. I took a step closer and saw, even in the dim light, the cracks in the white skin and the chips in the clothes. The boy was missing a hand, his left wrist ending in a hollow stump.
I worked my way back to the corridor and lights as quickly as I could. Foolishness, I thought. All of this is foolishness. I’m tired. I need rest. That’s all, and that’s enough.
I knew I was right. Yet I was relieved to see Karoff waiting for me in the doorway. And as we headed to the dining hall, it was an effort not to listen for the laughter.
Chapter 5
Though the crowds were much smaller, there were still people in the Square of the Emperor’s Bounty when I reached the Council Hall for the next day’s session. I vowed that today I would give them something to cheer.
The session began with what was explained to me as the latest phase of an ongoing dispute between two minor agri sectors, Jernoa and Fryne. Neither was important enough to warrant representation on the Inner Council. The dispute had been winding its way back and forth along jurisdictional lines for over fifty years, and concerned three mega-farms that were divided by the boundary as it now stood. Neither sector was claiming the farms in their entirety. In fact, in one instance, Fryne was insisting on giving Jernoa the lion’s share of one farm. It seemed the mega-farms themselves were irrelevant. The dispute was an arcane mix of local laws, clannish feuds and traditions whose origins were lost to history and so might as well have been eternal. As far as I could tell, the dispute was well on its way to becoming one of those traditions. The more the councillors explained it to me, the more I was inclined to let it carry on down its pointless path. I saw that its current purpose was to present me with an issue that was equal parts complex, trivial and stultifying.
I grew angrier as the session wore on. Zander made no attempt to hide his boredom and fell asleep in his throne. Veiss said little, though we exchanged a knowing look. Montfor was quiet too. I felt her watching me.
I let the explanations and debates continue until I was sure I had let enou
gh time pass for my own preparations to be complete, so that what I needed would be waiting on the other side of the doors. Then I said, ‘Let me cut to the end. Do the parties to the dispute expect a ruling from me today?’
‘They do not,’ said Amir Bokanta, councillor for Grenferes, the nearest large agri sector to the antagonists. ‘An acknowledgement, I believe, of the gravity of the issue, and a statement that it will be given the time and consideration warranted by its importance.’
‘Of that, there is no doubt,’ I snapped. ‘I will sign a proclamation expressing those very words. Now,’ I went on before Montfor could step in with the next deliberately pointless item on the agenda, ‘I want to return to a point of concern from our last meeting. Councillor Trefecht, what is the status of the investigation into black marketeering in Rosala?’
‘Lord-governor, it has only been two days,’ she said, as if explaining the world to a child. ‘And the problem has only recently come to our attention. I’m afraid we will have to be patient.’
‘There is no virtue in having patience with corruption,’ I said. ‘I will not be patient.’
‘We could certainly act on what we do know,’ said Trefecht. ‘We could arrange for a demonstration of force.’
‘That’s an excellent idea,’ I said. Then, raising my voice, I called, ‘Enforcer, you may proceed.’
The doors to the Inner Council burst open and Stavaak entered, escorted by two troopers. Zander jerked awake, and Montfor actually looked startled. ‘Lord-governor–’ she began.
‘No,’ I said.
The troopers marched down the aisle towards Trefecht. She rose, confused, reaching for an authority that had suddenly deserted her.
‘Marianna Trefecht,’ Stavaak proclaimed, ‘I arrest you for corruption, and for crimes against the war effort of the Imperium.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ she said.
‘You will have plenty of time to explain to us just how amusing you believe this to be,’ Stavaak said. The troopers put her in manacles and led her from the chamber. Stavaak gave me a quick nod as he passed in front of me. We both had the same thought.
Now we have begun.
I called an end to the session. Then I stood, and met the shouts of other councillors with silence. Of my foes, only Montfor was quiet. Her momentary break in composure was over. Her gaze went back and forth between me and her proxies. That was how I saw the other councillors now. They were not just her allies. They did not act without her consent. There was a weakness to their howling as one of their own was taken away. It was the screeching of the impotent. There was nothing they could do to stop what was happening, and it enraged them. But Montfor just watched. I had seen the look on her face before. I had seen it in my best officers, the ones who were the most lethal to the enemy, as we developed our strategy of attack.
Montfor withdrew without saying a word, and her exit was the signal for the others to abandon their protestations and follow. They stormed out. She glided through the doors, a grey shadow on a cane.
Zander sat still through it all, his eyes wide. If I had harboured any lingering doubts about his innocence, they would have been dispelled by his gaping, staggered incomprehension. I did not think he was so completely naive as to believe that there was no such thing as corruption. What I was seeing, I judged, was the result of his resolute disinterestedness. He had so utterly detached himself from any shred of responsibility that he could not grasp what he was seeing.
Veiss watched the end of the spectacle, then turned to face me, her expression doubtful.
I left the Council Hall with her a few minutes later, after having given the others time to make their exits. If their departures looked like flights, so much the better.
‘You have more flair for the theatrical than I would have thought,’ Veiss said as we approached the exit.
‘I learned its value on the battlefield,’ I told her. ‘The enemy’s perception can matter as much, or more than, reality.’
‘So control their perception.’ Veiss nodded. ‘That’s something Montfor has been doing here for a long time. She is very, very good at it.’
‘I think I surprised her.’
‘Maybe. That isn’t the same as shaking her. Don’t underestimate your opponent.’
‘I don’t think that’s something I can ever do again.’ I suppressed a shudder as I involuntarily pictured the tyranids. ‘You think I should have waited.’
‘Until we could have had more evidence, and more leverage ready, yes. Maeson, you’ve only been here a few days.’
‘I would prefer to think I’m acting faster than she can be ready for me.’
‘She is always ready. You showed your hand too soon. She will find a way to use what you did today against you.’
Outside, other than our two vehicles and their drivers, the square was deserted.
‘She already has,’ Veiss whispered.
I looked around at the sudden emptiness. ‘Did everyone suddenly grow bored?’ I wondered.
‘This is Montfor’s first countermove,’ said Veiss. ‘The people were hers. She told them to welcome you, and they welcomed you. She tells them to vanish, and…’ She snapped her fingers.
‘Impressive,’ I said. ‘You’re right. She is good at theatre.’
‘That’s just one reason why I’ve been urging caution. Did you not understand what I just said?’
‘That these people were her creatures.’
‘Not these people. The people. They aren’t yours. Maybe, maybe, if you had been able to govern all these years, they might be. But this is how deep her grasp goes. This is how serious this war is. Montfor and her circle have their claws embedded in every aspect of the life of Solus. They’re all obscenely wealthy, but she’s also made sure they’re generous. This isn’t just a few people at the top redirecting some shipments by issuing orders to ignorant lackeys.’
‘I hope you don’t think that’s what I believe.’
Veiss carried on as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘The corruption is everywhere. It touches everything on Solus. The missing production doesn’t all go off-world. There are merchants who have more items than they should, and those items are easier to buy than they should be.’
‘I suppose that Montfor makes sure no one goes hungry during the drought years.’
‘Far fewer do than if the quota were being fulfilled. You and I know the necessity of sacrifice. But it is easily forgotten when someone has more to eat than they expected. And this is the result.’ She gestured at the empty square. ‘You have the authority to rule. She has the means.’
‘Then I’ll have to take those means away. I don’t relish brutality, but I’ll resort to it for the good of Solus and the Imperium.’
Veiss sighed. ‘I really hope you don’t have to.’
‘So do I. How far do you think she dares to go?’
‘As far as it takes to defeat you and hold on to her place.’
I frowned, picturing worst-case scenarios. ‘Does she have the militia’s loyalty?’
‘My contacts there are limited. My impression is that to some extent, yes, she has. How deep or wide that loyalty is, I don’t know, and that troubles me.’
I thought things through, then shook my head. ‘It doesn’t matter. There are limits to her power. An actual uprising would bring the Astra Militarum to Solus. She can’t want that. It would destroy her completely.’
‘She doesn’t need an uprising if she can rid herself of you.’
‘I hope she tries.’ I spoke with sudden, violent feeling, surprising myself and shocking Veiss.
‘What have you been contemplating?’ she asked.
‘I’m not sure.’ I took a few breaths, calming myself. But I had said what I had said, and I meant it. Slowly, I saw why. ‘Justice, perhaps.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘There was no reas
on for Eliana to be on the roof of that tower. No reason for her to go up. I went. It’s just an invitation to an accident, and I only went there because she did. I doubt I would have even noticed the trapdoor otherwise. So. Why go?’
‘Maeson,’ Veiss said gently.
‘No. I won’t accept that she jumped. I won’t. Why would she have? That’s not who she was.’
‘You think Montfor had her killed?’
‘Eliana dead. The children too young to rule. Me gone, perhaps forever. All of that must have made her ascension easier. Well? Didn’t it?’
‘It did,’ Veiss admitted. ‘But there is no evidence that she did. I have no love for her. If there is any way of toppling her, then let it be done. Still…’
‘You don’t think she would have?’
‘It’s far from impossible. Even so…’
‘If she did it, let her try again.’ I was almost praying. ‘She’ll fail. And then she’ll fall.’
Veiss gave me a long look. ‘Please promise me you won’t do anything foolish. You’ve already provoked her enough.’
The screams of the dead of Clostrum roared through my head, and for a moment, all I asked for was one last, reckless charge, one that would grant me the boon of oblivion and its silence at the end.
The moment passed. I thought of Katrin and Zander. I thought of what I was trying to build on Solus. I was here for more than destruction. Oblivion was not mine to claim. And I would not reward Veth Montfor’s arrogance. I would not give her the victory she believed was hers to claim.
‘I promise,’ I said.
Veiss looked me in the eyes a few seconds longer. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Good.’ She got into her car.
It was starting to rain again.
That night, I focused on my breathing once again, trying to hear that and not the memories. My instinct was to squeeze my hands against my ears. I forced myself to hold my arms at my sides.
The voices are inside your head, not outside. Face them down. Breathe, breathe, breathe.
Some of the voices, the ones I could barely make out, truly did seem to be coming from outside my memory. In my imagination, they were floating through the house, calling at the entrance of each room.
The House of Night and Chain Page 6
