“No weapons,” said Kauderer.
“What?”
“That’s the rule of the wedding. Only the guards will have weapons.”
“Look,” said Kal. “You can paint a target on my back and toss me out into the middle of all those hunters out there, and even announce open season on Kal Jerico, but I won’t go without my guns and sword.”
“The sword might be okay,” said Katerin. “It is military tradition to wear a sword in dress uniform.”
“Fine, you can have your sword,” said Kauderer. “But no guns. If the other nobles see guns on your waist, all hell will break loose and then we’ll never find the assassin.”
The coat seemed awfully roomy around the waist. Armand had been a tad bigger than Kal. He got an idea, and kicked Scabbs in the shin.
“Ow!” he screamed. “What’d you do that for?” The little half-ratskin started hopping around the room, eventually falling over, stumbling over his dress shoes. As Katerin and Kauderer helped Scabbs to his feet, Kal slipped his pistols into the back of his trousers.
“I’m ready,” he declared.
A slow procession began with the least important people who’d somehow snagged invitations to the event. As they entered, the servitor came to life and began pulling levers and twisting knobs on the bronze sphere. An eerie, howling music resounded throughout the chapel, coming from the pipes of the automata. Somehow the pipe music and the crystal music complemented one another perfectly.
Bobo watched the procession and noticed that the dancing water the guests had to navigate to enter the chapel had quickened in step with the music. The water now truly was dancing, much to the chagrin of all the guests who had to find a safe path through the fountains.
Bobo didn’t recognize any of the early guests. He assumed they were mostly younger members of the houses and perhaps some courtesans or entrepreneurs whose favour was being curried by members of the various houses. However, one section of courtesans split off from the early guests and walked to the sides of the chapel, taking up position in front of the windows. Once both lines finished filing in, the courtesans began to sing, lending their voices to the chorus of music inside the chapel.
After the lesser guests were seated, members of the noble houses entered. All of them wore silk or velvet and their gems and jewellery glittered in the reflecting light of the chapel, almost overshadowing the hanging crystals and faceted ice sculpture.
Bobo watched as Prince Granit came in with other members of the Ko’Iron family. They were followed by Princess Jillian and House Greim. These two feuding houses were seated across the aisle from one another and Bobo could see them all glaring at each other.
Representatives from Ty and Ulanti came in next. Bobo watched to see where Gregor and the duke sat. He wanted to have a good sight line on all the major players. Interestingly, House Ty was seated in front of Ulanti. He assumed the pecking order of the houses must be a bone of contention between all of them, and Gregor didn’t look happy to be so far back.
As Bobo watched Gregor fume, House Ran Lo entered the chapel. They were seated across the aisle from Ulanti, which didn’t seem to phase the elder Ran Lo at all. Bobo didn’t think anything could mar that man’s public image. His face was as expressionless as a rock.
Strangely, the members of House Helmawr were ushered in next. Bobo didn’t understand why. They were all seated on the right side, in front of House Ran Lo — and there were a lot of them. Mostly the various sons of Lord Helmawr and their spouses or companions for the evening. Bobo didn’t know many of them.
Some of them had come down to Hive City on occasion, and Kauderer had asked Bobo to keep an eye on them and clean up any messes they made. He recognized Carlos, Gustav, Umberto, Tomas and Ramone right away.
The last member of House Helmawr to be seated was Valtin, whom Bobo had met when he and Kal went after Armand. Valtin was now some high-ranking official in the house, and as such got the seat of honour in the front row. Bobo didn’t see Kauderer yet, so watched as House Catallus filed in.
He knew even fewer of these people. In fact, he didn’t recognize a single one. For some reason, they got the best seats in the house, right across the aisle from House Helmawr. The duchess of Catallus was the last one led in and was escorted to the front, across from Valtin. The duchess was decked out in the most extravagant gown in the entire hall, a layered taffeta and silk dress in a dozen shades of purple. She wore an enormous ruby pendant on an inch-thick, braided, diamond and gold rope around her neck and a gold tiara also set with an enormous ruby and hundreds of diamonds. It suddenly dawned on Bobo why Catallus was last. She was the mother of the bride.
A hush came over the hall as the groomsmen began walking down the aisle together. There were only three. The first was a huge tank of a man who just barely fitted into his black tuxedo. He took up the entire aisle and was sweating profusely. Halfway down the aisle, he stopped to dab at his bald head with a handkerchief he pulled from his breast pocket. He then tried in vain to get the handkerchief back in, deciding finally to just carry it.
The second man loomed over the first, practically glaring him back into motion when he stopped. It was Kauderer. Once the two of them made their way to the front, Bobo picked up the rifle and sighted in on Kauderer, making a few adjustments to get the distance just right. He then set the rifle back down and watched as the best man stumbled up to the dais.
The little man obviously was not used to the tuxedo and dress shoes as he almost fell over himself several times on the way down the aisle. When he got to the end and turned around, Bobo gasped to see that it was Scabbs, decked out to the nines, but still scabby-looking even with his hair combed almost straight.
Kal strode down the aisle next. He wore not the expected white tuxedo, but what looked like a black, leather dress uniform jacket, trimmed in gold at the cuffs and collar, with gold-trimmed epaulets on both shoulders. He wore his sabre at his waist, and Bobo wasn’t sure, but he thought Kal’s jacket bulged a little. Did he have his laspistols with him?
The priest stepped through the ice sculpture archway and set a large black tome on the crystal pulpit in the middle of the dais. He raised his hand and, right on cue, the music changed. Bobo covered his ears as the servitor apparently opened up the largest pipes in the automata. It was so loud he had to fight to keep the sound from deafening him and making his ear drums explode.
“What have you done?” asked Duke Catallus. He had just come in to escort his daughter to the chapel and found yards and yards of white silk and taffeta draped all over the floor and chairs in the room.
“I made a few alterations,” said Yolanda. “I couldn’t move in that thing.”
“And what are those… things?” asked her father. He pointed at various spots on his daughter’s body.
“Oh these?” she asked. “I found them in my old room. Do you like them? I think it really makes the whole ensemble come together.”
“There’s no time to do anything about it now,” he said. “The music’s already started.”
“I know,” said Yolanda. “It’s my wedding, and I plan to do it my way.”
“About time this thing started,” said Kal as the automata played. “I feel a bit exposed up here by myself.”
Scabbs leaned over to look at Kal’s trousers. “No,” he said. “You’re all buttoned up.”
Kal quashed his desire to smack the little rat. “Just keep your eyes open for any weapons, Scabbs,” whispered Kal. “And if you see one, jump in front of me, okay?”
“Don’t worry, Kal,” said Katerin. “My men will keep you safe.”
“What about your men, Kauderer?” asked Kal. “I’m not worried about an army, but the thought of one hidden assassin with a rifle does have me a little perturbed.”
“I’m not exactly sure where my man is,” he said.
“Man?” hissed Kal. “One man? And you don’t even know where he is?”
“Shhh,” said Scabbs. “Here comes the bride.”
&
nbsp; Kal peered down the aisle as the bride and her father walked through the opened doors. At first he couldn’t see her as the water jets from the fountains obscured the back of the chapel. Then, on cue, the dancing water turned into an arcing waterfall tunnel. As the bride stepped through, Kal gasped out loud.
“Yolanda?” both he and Scabbs said at once.
This was like no Yolanda he’d ever seen, though. This was not the leather-dad Escher with wild gang tattoos and a massed tangle of dreadlocks he remembered— the dangerous woman who’d nearly killed him on several occasions, and who nobody in their right mind would ever cross.
Instead, this was the young duchess of House Catallus being led to the altar by her father, the duke. A sheer, white veil covered her face, draped down from an enormous, silver crown that held aloft a floor-length, silk train between its tines.
The crown and veil covered her tats and dreadlocks, but the old Yolanda still shone through. The rest of her outfit consisted of a tight-fitting white — for lack of a better word — undergarment, cut low in the front and high on her thighs. Her arms and legs were covered in white, and she wore silver epaulets on her shoulders and spiked gauntlets and knee guards. To finish off the ensemble, her sword hung at her nearly bare waist.
“Wow!” said Kal. He’d never seen Yolanda like this… like a woman. She’d always been a thorn in his side. At best, a comrade in arms. At worst, a very deadly enemy. He wasn’t sure he could ever go back to the way it was between them after seeing her like this.
Yolanda left her father at the base of the dais and climbed the steps to stand next to Kal. They turned to face one another and Kal found his eyes slipping down from her face and snapped them back to attention.
“Let me get one thing straight, Jerico,” she said beneath her breath.
“Yes, Yolanda?” asked Kal, drinking in the aroma that she’d been sprinkled in.
“Try to kiss me at the end of this wedding and I will kill you.”
That brought Kal back down to reality. “Not a problem,” he said. “Dearly beloved,” said the priest.
Bobo watched from his hiding spot as the wedding began. He had good sight lines on Kal, Kauderer, Ran Lo and even Valtin. He picked up the rifle and scanned the crowd. The only person he didn’t see was Mr. Smythe.
“I’m sorry, Kal,” he said. “I never wanted to see this happen to you, but now that it has, all I can say is better you than me.”
The wedding progressed for a while. There was singing, some chanting and praying, and an odd little homily from the priest about life as a star being more than just burning up your fuel — that — you had to warm the planets circling around you to nurture them during their lives before your ultimate end in a fiery cataclysm.
Then the priest got down to the nitty gritty.
“Do you, Kal Jerico, son of Gerontius Helmawr, slayer of Underhive vampires, despoiler of cardinals, nemesis of the dregs of society and heir apparent to the throne of Hive Primus, take this woman to be your wife, to have and to hold…”
Both Kal and Yolanda kicked the priest at that point.
Bobo picked up his rifle again and got ready. Mr. Smythe had furnished him with quite a nice weapon for his final assignment. It was a modified needle rifle with a combined telescopic and red-dot laser sight, along with a clip of especially virulent toxin darts. The darts came with their own set of directions. Bobo had had to use rubber gloves while loading them, as one drop would kill instantly.
“…for richer and even richer, until you finally tire of her and take a mistress?”
The room went completely silent as Kal glanced around. The wedding wasn’t supposed to get this far. Valtin had practically guaranteed that the assassin would strike before he finished his vows and was crowned Lord of the Hive. He gulped and looked at Yolanda. The daggers coming from her eyes were not all that reassuring either. “I do?” he finally croaked out.
The priest turned to Yolanda. “And do you, Yolanda Catallus, Duchess of House Catallus, leader of the Wildcats, scourge of the Underhive and saviour on more occasions than you wish to count of the worthless lives of both Kal Jerico and… Scabbs…” Kal glared at Yolanda.
“Part of my deal was that I got to write my own vows,” she said, smiling.
“Do you take this man, who’s so obviously not worthy of your great beauty and strength to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to… to never obey, but to constantly ridicule for as long as you can stand to look at his miserable face in the morning?”
Yolanda’s smile disappeared as soon as the priest got to the end of the litany. Kal could see the pain of what she was about to say cross her face. Her mouth contorted back and forth until she finally got it open enough to say, “I do.”
The priest picked up the crown sitting on the pulpit in front of him and brought it over towards Kal. He lifted it high in the air above Kal’s head and said, “Then, by the power vested in me by the holy Emperor of Man, and by the House of Helmawr, lords of Necromunda and Hive Primus, I pronounce you Lord of the Hive and…”
“Wait just a scavving minute!” screamed someone from the congregation.
Kal looked down to see one of the Helmawr princes stand up and step into the aisle.
He was a dark, swarthy young man with thick black hair pulled back into a pony tail and long sideburns that dominated his olive-coloured face. And, of course, he had the iron jaw line and pronounced chin of all Helmawrs.
“What in the hive happened to ‘does anyone know a reason why these two should not be wed?’” he asked. “Because I got a big reason why. A huge reason.”
“Who the scav is that?” asked Kal.
“Your cousin, Ramone,” said Kauderer.
“What’s he want? Is he next in line or something?”
Katerin chortled. Kauderer shot a hawkish glance at the captain before answering. “He’s probably fifteenth in line,” he said. “Right ahead of you, actually.”
“Ah,” said Kal. He turned to Ramone. “Brother,” he started. “I think we can find a better time and place to discuss your concerns.”
“My concern is you, Jerico,” spat Ramone. “My concern is this travesty you call a wedding.”
Kal motioned Kauderer over to him. “Is he the assassin?” he whispered.
Kauderer shrugged. “Hard to say. Nobody’s very happy about this wedding.”
“Not even the bride and groom,” said Kal.
Ramone continued his rant. He turned to face the rest of the congregation. “Do you know that neither of them lives in the Spire? They’re bounty hunters. They don’t even live in Hive City. They dwell down with the vermin in the Underhive. And we are all going to bow down to them as our new Lord and Lady of the Hive? Is this a joke?”
“Ramone,” said Kal. “There’s bigger things at stake here than just this wedding. I know you want the crown for yourself. Hell everyone in this room wants the crown, except me and Yolanda, and maybe Valtin, but I’m not so sure about that either.”
Kal stepped in front of Yolanda and faced the crowd. As he did, he slipped one of his laspistols from beneath his jacket and placed it in her hand. He then stepped forward. “But this wedding isn’t about you, Ramone. It’s not about the Helmawr family or even the Spire. It’s about the hive. Nobody wants to see a civil war between the houses. That hurts everyone.”
He moved a little closer to Ramone, still speaking to the crowd. “Catallus, Ran Lo, Ko’Iron, Greim, Ty, Ulanti and Helmawr all profit from their positions up here. Does anyone here really want to upset that balance and take the chance that the new order will be less profitable? I don’t think so.”
He was almost next to Ramone. “So, let’s all sit back and see where this wedding takes us, shall we? I promise it will be fun and profitable for all.”
Kal was within striking distance of Ramone, and his hand rested on the pommel of his sabre at the end of his speech.
Ramone began to clap the slow clap of someone completely unimpressed by Kal’s showmanship
.
“Nice speech, Jerico,” he said. “You might have actually made a decent Lord of Hive Primus. But that honour will now go to me!”
Kal pulled out his sword, but Ramone was quicker. He whipped a laspistol from his jacket and fired at Kal’s head.
Kal dove to the side as the blast sheared off one of his epaulets. He swiped at Ramone with his sabre, catching his younger cousin in the leg with a glancing blow.
Yolanda returned fire, but Ramone ducked behind some of the panicking guests. The entire hall erupted in screams as guests ran towards the exits, getting drenched in the fountain jets.
“Katerin,” yelled Kal. “Why don’t your men do something?”
Ramone answered instead from the chaos. “Because,” he said. “I control this wedding, not your precious captain. Now!” At that, a dozen or so security guards by the doors pulled out their weapons and began shooting. Those guests closest to the doors stopped suddenly, causing a mass collision amidst the fountains. Many of them fell under the press from behind and screams of terror turned to screams of pain.
Kal crawled back to the dais. From there he could see that the guards weren’t shooting into the mass of bodies. They were shooting at the other guards. He looked for Ramone, but his cousin had disappeared into the crowd. Kal pulled out his second laspistol, but couldn’t get a clear shot at any of the guards, and didn’t really know which ones to shoot at anyway.
“Wotan,” he called. His mastiff trotted out from behind the ice sculpture. Kal had ordered him to stay back there with the priest before the doors to the chapel opened. He wiped the blood off the tip of his sabre and put his fingers up to Wotan’s nose.
“Find Ramone,” he said. “Wotan! Fetch.”
Kal crawled back towards the arch where Yolanda had taken a defensive position. “Having fun on the honeymoon yet, darling?” he asked.
Yolanda scowled at him. “Call me darling again, and this will be your last honeymoon… ever!”
“Fair enough,” said Kal. “Can you get a clear shot at any of Ramone’s guards?”
[Necromunda 10] - Lasgun Wedding Page 21
