by Dan Abnett
‘Just you,’ I said.
I heard a little vox click over the patter of rain, and Kys shrugged. She stepped back, and returned to the cargo-8. She leant back against the cab, folded her arms, and stood watching.
‘You have me at a disadvantage,’ the Chair’s transponders said.
‘Well, sir, that’s the point,’ I replied. ‘That mind of yours… I apologise for the discomfort my blankness may be causing you, but the advantage would be very much yours if my cuff was not set the way it is. I have not come to fight, or issue terms. I am simply here to talk.’
‘You wish to talk?’ the Chair said. Hovering, it turned slightly, to one side then the other, as though looking around. A pure affectation. Ravenor’s sensor systems were global sweep. He was trying to reassure me by giving his very inhuman form the mannerisms of a person. ‘Where is Gregor?’
‘He’s gone,’ I said.
‘Perhaps you could define that?’
‘I doubt I have to,’ I said. ‘I am fairly sure it was your doing.’
There was a silence, broken only by the spitting of rain.
‘I have done nothing,’ said the Chair. ‘I have done nothing to Gregor. I can only give you my word of that, but I give it sincerely. Beta, please… What has happened?’
His voice was merely augmetic, a machine simulation broadcast through cowled speakers, yet I sensed a tone of concern in it.
I took a few steps forward.
‘A few nights ago, our safehold was attacked and destroyed,’ I said.
‘Destroyed?’
‘Entirely, sir.’
‘By?’
‘You,’ I said. ‘You were my first thought. Making a move, at last, against Eisenhorn after your years of games.’
‘I swear it was not me,’ he said. ‘I had not even determined your location. Gregor was always very good at concealing his tracks.’
‘Not this time,’ I said. ‘I only escaped it by odd chance.’
‘Where was this?’
There was no value in deflecting.
‘Talltown,’ I said.
‘Great Throne… That blaze?’
‘That very one, sir.’
There was another pause. I saw that Kys had straightened up, and was no longer leaning with such studied indifference against the cab. She had unfolded her arms, and stood looking at me with a frown of what seemed genuine surprise. She had heard it all.
‘Who was lost?’ she called out.
I ignored her.
‘Who was lost, Beta?’ Ravenor asked firmly.
‘Medea, the daemonhost and Gregor,’ I replied.
If Ravenor had been a man, I might have seen his response, a reaction in expression or body attitude. I could read it in Kys. She betrayed little, but I could see she was taken aback. The Chair did not move, or make a sound, and suddenly that felt far worse. This news had truly pained him. I felt that with great certainty.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said at length.
‘I believe you are,’ I replied.
‘You brought me here to tell me this?’
‘In part.’
‘What else?’ he asked.
I gestured to him, and turned to walk down the slipway. After a second, he skimmed slowly after me, leaving Kys at the truck. Much more alone now, further out in the open, I stopped and turned to face him again. He swung up just a few metres short of me, imposing and brutal, the Chair’s hull beaded with raindrops.
‘There are many sides at war here,’ I said. ‘Many factions, many interests, all playing against each other. From my own experience, I can count off nine or ten at least. It seems odd to me that two of them, in opposition, are Inquisitorial retinues.’
‘You know it’s not as simple as that, Beta–’ he began.
‘I know he was deemed a heretic, and accused of acting beyond the Ordo’s remit,’ I said. ‘I also know you had no stomach for this pursuit, and that you were only hunting him to make peace with your masters for fear of them branding you heretic too.’
‘Again, you oversimplify–’ he said.
‘Do I?’
A pause.
‘No, perhaps not. Understand me well, Beta, I will not excuse his actions. He has operated beyond Imperial Law and without the grace of the Throne of Terra for decades. No matter the reasons, he has crossed the line.’
‘Had,’ I corrected.
‘Yes. And I cannot pretend I have not crossed a line or two myself. He taught me perhaps too well. I took instruction from the Ordos, and committed to his apprehension with great reservation. Politically, I was obliged–’
‘I care not,’ I said.
‘Understand me, please. I saw the pursuit of Gregor Eisenhorn as the means to a greater end. He was not my target. Not my true target. He was an excuse to get at something else, and he was also the way of finding it. We were hunting the same thing.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’m not a fool. That’s why I took this risk to talk with you. I don’t want to burn as a heretic, or burn for association with one. Your target is mine too. There are too many sides here, some of them of great malice. Now one player, your main rival, has vanished from the board. You can concentrate on what really matters.’
‘The King,’ he said.
‘The King, indeed.’
‘And you?’ he asked.
‘I have accumulated what little is left of Eisenhorn’s warband, and we have gathered intelligence and leads that I believe you do not possess.’
I looked at the Chair.
‘And vice versa,’ I added. ‘You and Eisenhorn worked at cross purposes, for years. Now he’s gone. There can be focus at last, and a pooling of resources. I am underpowered, but I have value. That’s why I asked for this meeting.’
‘To work together?’
‘To work as one. Ravenor, there are only two sides in this, when all is said and done. Forget the factions and the disparate interests. There is us, and there is the Archenemy. Not to work together would be foolish and negligent.’
‘You are very like her,’ he said.
‘That’s what people keep telling me.’
The Chair turned slowly, and faced the looming bulk of the shed.
‘Shed One Hundred and Nineteen,’ he observed. ‘That number was not a coincidental choice.’
‘It was not.’
‘You want access to the book, to Chase’s book?’
‘It’s a vital lead,’ I said, ‘but it’s not the only one.’
‘Beta,’ the Chair said. ‘You realise it is very difficult to trust you. Almost impossible. You are Cognitae product. You may be following an agenda even you don’t appreciate. I have only your word that Gregor’s dead. You have with you a mercenary of whom I am truly fond, but who has changed sides more than too many times. And I know he’s not the only operative you have on-site today.’
‘For our security only,’ I said. ‘I agree, there is little trust yet. If I armed my cuff, you could take us in an instant. And Kys is not your only operative. Where is the other woman?’
‘We must establish trust if this is going to work,’ he said.
‘We must, and you haven’t answered my question.’
He made a sound that I think was some kind of rueful sigh.
‘Kara has a gun to the back of Harlon’s head,’ he said.
I stiffened, and touched my micro-bead.
‘Nayl?’
‘He can’t reply right now, Beta,’ a woman’s voice answered.
‘This is how you demonstrate trust?’ I asked Ravenor.
‘I’m showing you my hand,’ he said. ‘You think we’d walk into this without being ready for you? This meeting could have been any kind of trap.’
‘But it is not.’
‘So it would appear,’ said Ravenor. ‘Which is
why I am showing you my hand. Kys, at the transport. Kara, in position behind Nayl. As for your other man, Mr Lightburn–’
I reached for my throat mic, but stopped. Renner had come into view around the end of the shed. He was walking with his hands on his head. A heavyset man in a visor and jack-armour was walking behind him, covering him with a laspistol.
Ravenor had a third agent.
‘I mean them no harm,’ said Ravenor, ‘but they are contained. It is just you, Beta, and I do not fancy your chances against me, even blanked. So, do we continue this discussion with some moderate measure of trust, or do I let the three of you walk away? Now. No second chances?’
I was both impressed and angry. I thought we had been thorough, despite our limited means, but he had outplayed us. That third operative had been his wildcard.
‘You’d let us walk?’ I asked.
‘Rules of parley, as Harlon negotiated,’ he replied. ‘I’m not a monster. But if you choose to walk, that would be it.’
‘Then we should talk,’ I said simply, and started to stride back towards the shed.
He followed me. Kys wandered from the truck and stood watching Renner, who looked most exercised by his capture. The visored man lowered his pistol, and said something to Kys I couldn’t catch. Nayl walked out of the shed, the long-las resting across his shoulder with the powercell removed. He too looked most put out. Behind him came Kara Swole, an amused grin on her face, tossing the powercell up and down in her hand like a plaything.
‘So, do we execute them for heresy?’ Kys asked Ravenor as we approached. She grinned at me. ‘Joking,’ she said.
I did not smile back.
‘Sorry,’ Nayl said to me.
‘Forget it,’ I replied.
‘It’s good to see you again, Beta,’ said Kara. Her smile seemed genuine and warm, but she had taken Harlon Nayl down without a shot fired. My estimation of her had increased considerably.
‘What happens now?’ asked Kys.
‘We withdraw to safety and talk,’ said Ravenor. ‘You will consider Beta, Harlon and Mr Lightburn as allies unless I say otherwise. Put your weapons away.’
‘You think we can trust them?’ asked the man in the visor.
‘Funny bloody question from a man in a mask,’ spat Renner.
‘Shut up,’ the man replied.
‘I won’t give my instructions again,’ said Ravenor.
‘As we’re brokering trust,’ I said, ‘let’s see your face.’ I was looking at the man in the visor. There was something about his build and voice that was oddly familiar. He glanced doubtfully at Ravenor.
‘Do so,’ said the Chair. ‘We cannot have secrets if we are to engineer a collaboration. Do not react to this poorly, please,’ Ravenor added to me.
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that until the man in the mask unbuckled his visor and took it off.
My heart skipped and I went cold. It was Thaddeus Saur. It was Mentor Saur of the Maze Undue.
‘This is how you trick us?’ I exclaimed.
‘Whoa, whoa!’ Kys cried, her hands raised.
‘Beta–’ said Ravenor.
‘We are walking,’ I said. ‘Saur is Cognitae! You know that!’
‘Was,’ said Saur sullenly.
‘Thaddeus was apprehended during the raid on the Maze Undue,’ said Ravenor. ‘I will explain in greater detail, but know he is now assisting me in this investigation.’
‘That is in no way reasonable,’ I declared. ‘He is Cognitae, and tied to the Eight. At best, he is a spy among you. What kind of idiot are you?’
Kys stifled a laugh of surprise to hear me rebuke her master so.
‘Saur’s brain had been wiped and blocked when we found him,’ said Ravenor calmly. ‘I have spent weeks probing him with psykana to ascertain his motives and status. I have scanned him for even subliminal codings. There are none. He is a dangerous man, but his connections are cut. He is quite anxious to assist me.’
‘I swear it, Bequin,’ Saur said to me. ‘I don’t know what I was part of, or what was done to me, but I want answers. They say you know me, but I have no recall. I understand your reservation, I do. They told me plain I was an agent against the power of the Throne, and that I can scarce believe. I swear to you, I just want answers, and the chance to undo any wrong I might have done.’
‘He murdered your agent Voriet,’ I said.
There was a silence. Kara looked at the ground uneasily. Kys pursed her lips.
‘They know that,’ said Saur.
‘We know,’ said Ravenor.
‘They know that, and I don’t,’ said Saur.
I sniffed. ‘If his mind is wiped, what use is he?’ I asked.
‘I know faces when I see them,’ said Saur. ‘Faces I don’t know I’ve ever seen. Yours, as you walked up. Soon as I saw you, I knew your face. I have uses. Perhaps to spot Cognitae before you do.’
He glared at me. I could not forget the cruel and intimidating mentor I had known. He was a thug, a brute, and I could not believe his lifetime of work for the enemy had been erased.
But Ravenor was a great psykana talent, and he had probed. And we were into this now. Collaborative effort was what mattered. I would not let a wretch like Saur disrupt a valuable pact that might serve us well.
‘We will discuss this further,’ I said. ‘I will, I assure you, require more convincing. But I wish our arrangement to stand.’
I slipped the sluca from my forearm sheath, let it drop into my hand, and quickly cut the flesh of my left palm. I raised my hand, letting drops of blood drip into the estuary wind.
‘The hell are you doing?’ Kys asked, stepping forward quickly.
There was a crack, like the sails of a clipper catching the wind, followed by a rushing sound. Comus Nocturnus landed on the rockcrete behind me, and slowly rose upright, his vast snowy wings extended and heaving. He was still quite naked, and his alabaster bulk towered over us all. Ravenor’s people took a step back in dismay. Nayl flinched in surprise. Even the impassive Chair seemed to recoil slightly.
‘What is this?’ Ravenor asked.
‘I’m just showing you my hand,’ I said. ‘In the spirit of trust. You had outplayed me with a third operative, but if it had come down to it, sir, a fight would not have gone the way you expected.’
CHAPTER 15
The Shoulder
I looked upon myself and, in the golden candlelight, reflected upon my situation as constantly as the looking glass reflected my face.
I studied the features of that face, a face that was soon not to be mine any more. My hair was pinned back, for it had yet to be styled, and my powder was not fully applied. I looked at my eyes, my nose, the line of my mouth, the set of my throat. It was simply the face I had always had, and I wondered that others saw so much else there: histories, past deeds, definitions of loyalty.
Kara had shown me a pict of Alizebeth. It affected me less than I had expected, though I saw how alike we were. This ordinary face of mine had currency, as it had done with Gregor’s team. It secured me a degree of trust. It carried the past in it, a past I didn’t know, but which meant something to all of them. I had underestimated the affection Ravenor’s team held for Alizebeth Bequin. Ravenor could not help but see Alizebeth in me, and be prompted to recall his association with her and, even unconsciously, grant me greater allowance than I had anticipated. This was a source of some relief.
But I was concerned what I might lose, now the time had come to cover it.
The mirror, round and convex in the style of the Mid-Orphaeonic cabinet makers, could not show me the answer to that. It showed me only myself and the room I sat in, all pulled in around my shoulders and bent by its fisheye bulge: the surface of the dresser on which the mirror stood, laden with powders, brushes, cosmetic paints and salves, all borrowed from Kara, a hairbrush, a pot of pins, th
e hundred candles all around, warming the dark room amber; and me, bare to the shoulders, a cloth tied across my breast to stop powder falling on my clean, linen undershirt, the grubby band and hairpins holding my hair back from my face. I was framed like a cameo by Tizzley or Carnach, the little portrait masterpieces where perspective is bellied out so that every last facet of the surroundings may be included to display the painter’s finesse for miniature detail.
Behind me, a room, a room in a house, a house in the city, a city at evening. I had been living here a week in the company of Ravenor’s band.
‘What about this one?’ Kara asked, entering the chamber behind me, and holding out a bottle of lip paint. She had been coming and going for some minutes, helping me prepare, while she got herself ready. She was naked apart from a short slip, uninhibited like a fellow performer in a dressing room. Or, perhaps, a sister. ‘This shade, perhaps?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘What do you stare at?’ she asked, pausing to glance at the looking glass too.
‘Just thinking,’ I replied. I chose not to be specific, but the focus of my thoughts since the slipway had been Saur. I could not reason a way of trusting him, no matter his story of stolen memory. Just as my face made them trust me more, his face made me trust them less.
A tension had lingered all week. Ravenor had brought us – myself, Nayl and Renner, at least – to his seat of operations, this elderly townhouse near Feygate. It was, it seemed, three buildings in one, all of them old, that had over time spilled into each other to become one thing. At the west was a low, half-timbered hall of the Pre-Orphaeonic era, into which had been at some time stitched an agreeable, modest villa of three storeys and stone floors, well dressed with good plaster and large grates. At the east, a more modern extension in the Antebellum style, with diamond-paned windows and curled staircases, which seemed permanently cold. The house had no name.
Neither did the feeling that had gnawed at me since our arrival. Unease, perhaps? Discomfit. There were questions on both sides, questions of active intelligence and also more nebulous issues of caution. To handle the former, we had met for hours at a time in a large room in the villa part of the house, and gone through all that we knew. The latter issues were harder to address. I had a problem with Saur, and I made that plain, but Ravenor was insistent that Thaddeus Saur was no more than a useful pawn. Saur was kept out of the strategy meetings, and in person, he was amiable with me, as if anxious to demonstrate his innocence. There was no innocence there. At best, I hoped, there was simply an absence of malice.
