Penitent

by Dan Abnett

  ‘Both, I should think. At the same time.’

  That made her laugh. She raised her hand and gestured to an oval glass.

  ‘Look there. Newcomers to the game just these last few weeks.’

  I looked, and at first could not decipher the twitching shadows I was seeing. Then I saw proud crests and gleaming armour of high polish, and the passing flash of some chilling war-mask. It was not human.

  ‘Is that–?’ I began, amazed.

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Aeldari?’ I whispered.

  ‘Quite so. Matters here are now of such significance, even the xenos kinds are forced to step in.’

  She looked at me. I had never seen such intent in her face.

  ‘Beware them, Beta,’ she said. ‘Promise me you will. They cannot be beguiled by our skills the way humans and even transhumans can. Do not, under any circumstances, have anything to do with them.’

  ‘As I presume you will not?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘There was another party,’ I said. ‘Your man Verner mentioned them. He said you had considered an alliance with them very seriously. They–’

  ‘Do not speak their name, Beta.’

  ‘I will not. I know better than to do so. They seemed to me no less dangerous than any visible here.’

  ‘Oh, they’re brutal creatures,’ she said. ‘But they have means and they have cunning, and they are a sight more intelligent than the Word Bearers or the Emperor’s Children. I had contemplated them, aware of the risks. They await a reply from me, but I think it will be to decline.’

  I paused for a moment.

  ‘And… the Secretary?’ I asked.

  ‘Nastrand is dead. He died at the Maze, along with Murlees.’

  ‘Then forgive me, mam. You show me faces in glasses, but not choices. It would be madness to link your interests with any of these. I think you are too bold when you say you have options.’

  I turned to stare at her.

  ‘I think you are very alone, and very afraid. I think it will be but a short time before the King, or one of these unholy forces, catches up with you. I think you should weigh my offer again.’

  She turned away from me sharply, as though I had slapped her face.

  ‘Still you ask!’ she hissed. ‘As if you know nothing! As if I had taught you nothing! I cannot change as easily as you did, Bequin!’

  ‘I never changed,’ I replied. ‘And you have great fluidity of function, mam. You can change better than most. For Throne’s sake, the alternative is death!’

  ‘For Throne’s sake? Hear yourself, child. I am Cognitae, and I stand against everything the Corpse-God represents. I would topple that Throne of yours. How could I stand with Ravenor?’

  ‘Sometimes the threat is so grave, the worst of enemies must become the best of friends,’ I said. ‘You know better than me. How grave a threat is the King?’

  Mam Mordaunt did not answer at once. She walked away from me, sat back down in the porter’s chair and lit a lho-stick.

  ‘What would he have me do?’ she asked, in a small voice.

  ‘Share the information you have,’ I said.

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘The nature of the King’s business. The full operation of the programme. The Cognitae’s plan. Your name, perhaps?’

  ‘My name?’

  ‘Your true name.’

  ‘You think I hide–’

  ‘We all hide. Are you… Lilean Chase?’

  She looked at me, and a smile flickered through her agitation.

  ‘What a funny question,’ she said.

  ‘If you are,’ I said, ‘then you can help Gideon and me make sense of this.’ I slipped the commonplace book out of my coat pocket and held it up.

  ‘Goodness,’ she breathed. ‘You still have it?’

  ‘I recovered it,’ I said. ‘Can you help me with the cipher? Explain 119?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  I put the book away again. As I did so, I said, ‘The secrets of the Cognitae are seeping out, mam. I think they have been doing so for years as the Cognitae became increasingly unspun. Now is the time. Make sure those secrets go to the right places, where they can do most good.’

  ‘Secrets…’ she echoed.

  ‘Yes, mam. The means to enter the extimate City of Dust. It is our primary goal.’

  ‘You mean to get in there?’

  ‘Yes. Do you know how it is done?’

  ‘I do,’ she said. ‘I have crossed to it a few times. The method is known to me. But you’ve been there too. At Feverfugue.’

  ‘I barely realised it at the time,’ I said, ‘and I have no idea how I did it or how I came back again.’

  She regarded me with a curious frown.

  ‘I think you do, Beta. I would think it obvious. You surprise me – so confident and so full of unexpected insight and knowledge, yet naive in the strangest ways on the most curious matters. Getting in isn’t the problem.’

  ‘It is, or I wouldn’t be asking.’

  ‘The problem, my child, is what you do once you’re in.’

  She stubbed out her lho-stick, half-smoked.

  ‘I thought I had trained you well, Beta,’ she said, ‘but I see I must reinforce the most basic conditioning. Know yourself. Understand yourself. In this life, most answers lie within, or in plain view right in front of us. They can be seen with ease if you but take the time to look.’

  ‘I’ll remember that,’ I said. ‘Now will you describe the means to me, in return for the protection and cooperation of Gideon Ravenor and the Holy Ordos?’

  I watched her think about it. I had no doubt it was a hard decision, for she had spent her days in such uncompromising opposition to the Inquisition that it had become like antimateria to her ­materia. One touch might annihilate her.

  But I remembered the stale odour of lho that I had smelled on her before. That little imperfection in her otherwise perfect guise as Zoya Farnessa, that tiny flash of personal weakness, gave me hope, for it spoke to her fear and her desperation. I had an ounce of leverage. Ironically, the techniques of micro-psychological persuasion that I was employing were precisely those she had taught me so long before at the Maze Undue.

  ‘Very well,’ she said at last.

  ‘Then tell me–’

  She raised her hand and smiled.

  ‘Beta,’ she said, ‘that information is my only insurance. I will share it with your Ravenor directly, once he has met my assurances. It is my currency. If I spend it now, you may simply kill me, for my worth would be gone.’

  ‘I would not.’

  ‘Even so. Go back to Ravenor. Secure for me a meeting with him, face to face. You will be at my side when that occurs, at all times, your limiter off. He will not strip my mind of its value. You will vouchsafe me in his company.’

  I did not care for the arrangement, but I understood her demands. It was never going to be easy to gain and keep her confidence.

  ‘Very well,’ I replied, with reluctance. I had no wish to leave her, for this could all be a ruse to get me out of the way. The moment I was gone, she might just vanish again, more thoroughly.

  ‘It might be better if you came with me,’ I suggested.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then, to arrange a meeting–’

  ‘I will watch you, of course,’ she said. ‘I will be fully aware of the time and place you agree with Ravenor. And I will be there, provided he shows no hint of trickery.’

  I suppose it was more than I could have hoped. She was willing to come in. She would be an asset of huge value.

  I nodded my agreement.

  ‘Is there,’ I asked, ‘a swift way down to street level? It is quite a trek otherwise. I’m sure you have your own secure means of entering and leaving this hiding place.’

&n
bsp; She smiled.

  ‘I have several,’ she replied. ‘For your convenience, I suggest you take the roof access into the port. A short walk, and we’re too high up for the gangs. One of the freight elevators in the nearest cargo hall still functions, despite the look of it. It will carry you to the street dock on Childeric Pass.’

  ‘How will I know which elevator?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ve marked it with a sign you’ll recognise,’ she said. She rose, crossed to a small ormolu side table, and slid open the top drawer. ‘As for my witch-marks and wards, and any of my bonded gangers…’

  She took something out of the drawer and tossed it to me. I caught it neatly. It was a moldavite pendant on a gold chain. In the tinted olive gloom of the apartment, the internal green lustre of the ­meteoric stone seemed so intense as to be alive. There was a hexafoil mark carved into one side of the gem.

  ‘That will get you past them,’ she said.

  I was about to reply with a thank you when she turned abruptly. Something in the quizzing glasses had caught her attention.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  ‘Someone approaches,’ she replied. ‘Up the inner staircase.’ She glanced at me, and I did not care for the look in her eyes.

  ‘Have you betrayed me?’ she asked. ‘Told someone of this location?’

  ‘I swear not. Let me look.’

  The mirror that had caught her eyes was small and round, and seemed to show a foggy view of some chute, which I realised after some study was the black-iron staircase. Shapes – one, perhaps, or two – moved upon it, but they were mere ghosts in the poor light.

  ‘Let me check,’ I said. She seemed dubious. ‘The deal is, the Inquisition will protect you,’ I said. ‘I will demonstrate the sincerity of our pledge.’

  She paused, then nodded. The xenos pistol was still in her hand.

  ‘If it is too much for you, retreat here,’ she said. She raised her free hand, and peeled away the fine wig of rust-coloured hair. Beneath it, her own hair, black, was shaved back to almost nothing. ‘This place is warded. We can make use of the defensive position.’

  She had begun to unfasten the rust-coloured dress. Beneath it, I glimpsed a dark bodyglove. Despite the unfamiliar style in which her face was made up, she was already resembling the Cognitae Mistress I had known. I understood that, if a battle was coming, she intended to fight as Mordaunt, not Zoya Farnessa.

  ‘Get to it,’ she said. I stepped towards the chamber’s iron gate. My first approach would be one of stealth. I flexed my right hand and felt the sudden and surprising weight of the blinksword as it ­manifested there.

  ‘Verner’s sword,’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied.

  ‘You’ve mastered the knack.’

  In truth, it had been remarkably easy. Kara and I had examined Timurlin’s weapon after his death. Its extimate nature seemed to be annealed into it. It was not a matter of concentration – in fact, concentrating too hard made the trick impossible to perform. But a gentle, almost subconscious act of will made the blade vanish in the hand, and then reappear by the same mode of thought. I had taken to it faster than Kara.

  ‘Not everyone can do that,’ said Mam Mordaunt, stepping out of her gown. ‘I always thought you might climb to the rank of perfecti. Of course, the programme had another destiny in mind for you.’

  I did not stop to pursue this comment, or even to consider its value as a compliment. I went out through the iron gate, and made my way back to the apartment’s front door. The hall outside was as dark as before. An afternoon wind moaned up the stairwell, lifting zephyrs of dust from the filthy floor. I edged along with my back to the wall. Who was out there? Had they followed me?

  In a moment or two, I discovered that ‘they’ had indeed done exactly that. Spying through the banister rail, I saw Renner and Saur, cautiously picking their way up the stairs. Saur led, his sword ready. Renner followed, gripping his assault gun. Both peered up into the darkness, wary.

  ‘Penitent,’ I called out, an over-loud whisper.

  They froze.

  ‘That you?’ Saur called back.

  ‘None other,’ I replied. I stood up so they could see me, leaning out over the rail. ‘Come up,’ I ordered, ‘but put up your weapons and make your peaceful approach apparent.’

  Saur shrugged, and sheathed his severaka. Renner pulled the Mastoff onto his shoulder by the sling.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked.

  ‘Follow you, you said,’ Renner replied. ‘We followed you. It’s a long way.’

  ‘But the warded doorways?’

  ‘Thaddeus found a work-around, didn’t he?’ said Renner. They joined me on the dirty landing.

  ‘Those marks are wicked things,’ said Saur, as though pleased with himself, ‘but the frames they’re carved on? Why, they’re but old wood, and do not much survive the close action of an assault-auto.’

  ‘He had me shoot a door frame out,’ said Renner. ‘Whole thing collapsed. The mark, it was still there on the frame, but the frame was lying on the floor, so we just walked straight through the space.’

  I felt a little chastened by the simplicity of their approach. I had made use of an angel, summoned from the air. They had used brute force.

  ‘Follow me,’ I said, ‘but make no sudden moves, and obey my instruction. You find me in a delicate position.’

  I walked back to the apartment door, with them at my heels.

  ‘You can stand down,’ I called out. ‘It is the others of my team. Friends. They have come to find me. Will you let them pass as you let me?’

  ‘So I see,’ I heard her reply from within. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I have reached a deal of sorts,’ I told Renner and Saur as we entered through the iron-web hallway. ‘Do nothing to disrupt it. I have a few last details to conclude, and we will be on our way.’

  We entered the apartment. Mam Mordaunt stood beside the porter’s chair, using its bulk as partial cover. She was now in a form-fitting bodyglove of soft black zoat-hide, and she had wiped the last traces of Zoya’s identity from her face. A heavy satchel hung over one shoulder. She was aiming the pistol at us.

  ‘This place is clearly compromised,’ she said, relaxing her aim slightly. ‘I will leave once you’re gone, and not return. Don’t worry. Our deal stands.’

  She glanced at Saur.

  ‘I was interested to see him face to face,’ she said. I could tell from the puzzlement on Saur’s frown that he did not know her at all, not even now she was more the Mam Mordaunt we had once known. I wondered if her long black hair back then had been a wig too, or if the short crop was a modern expediency. Had ‘Mam Mordaunt’ been just another function, one employed for years? I fancied I would never know her real self.

  ‘Did I know you?’ asked Saur. His eyes were more hooded than usual.

  ‘You did. But that was another time, Thaddeus, and you are no longer yourself,’ she replied. ‘Still, it is reviving to see you, as it was to see Bequin. Old faces in a world where few faces are familiar or friendly.’

  She looked at me.

  ‘Hardly the demonstration of selfless support you promised,’ she mocked.

  ‘Let’s be thankful for that,’ I replied. I blinked the sword away, and stepped closer to her, drawing her aside. ‘I trust we have an understanding,’ I said quietly. ‘I am staking a lot on this, perhaps even my life. If you renege and disappear, things could become very difficult for me.’

  She looked almost wounded.

  ‘I believe you think the Cognitae are just liars and tricksters, child,’ she replied, ‘that every word we speak, every promise, cannot be given value. We are as loyal and honest as any other order. More than most, I’d guess. More than the Ordos. To have existed as long as we have, we have needed to trust each other absolutely. To each other, our word is bond. The lies and tricks,
Beta, are merely the outward guise we wear to protect ourselves from predators. You have my word, and you may trust it. I have to believe that your word is just as good.’

  I assured her it was. She studied my face, then smiled and gently, momentarily, stroked my hair. How many times, as a child and as a pupil, had she made that gesture? It had always seemed empty, play-acting a maternal role and feigning concern. I had grown up thinking it a passive-aggressive display, a pretence of tenderness that was actually supposed to remind me that she held power over me.

  Finally, and oddly, it felt genuine.

  I confess, I wished the moment could have lasted longer, or that I could have set it in amber as a keepsake, but it was interrupted. Behind me, Renner had spoken Saur’s name.

  Saur stood there with a look of unfathomable mystery on his face. The slit of his mouth moved dumbly.

  ‘What’s the matter with him?’ I asked. Renner shook his head. Saur glanced at me. I saw tears welling up in his eyes, and the sight shocked me. He was overcome with terrible grief, an emotion I never thought I’d see expressed by a brute like him.

  ‘I…’ he stammered hoarsely. He seemed helpless and lost. Teardrops trickled down the raw cliffs of his cheeks.

  ‘He’s remembering,’ said Mam Mordaunt, stepping to my side to gaze on Saur. ‘You’re remembering, aren’t you, Thaddeus?’

  ‘A-all of it,’ he sobbed. ‘E-every part. In a flood…’

  Whatever process had sealed his memory as a protective measure had lifted abruptly, and all those erased thoughts were re-collecting in his head with such speed and force it had unmanned him. He seemed so overtaken by them, he could barely stand. He took a few steps back and sat down in the porter’s chair. He was shaking, wracked by a weeping fit.

  ‘The sight of me, perhaps?’ said Mam Mordaunt, showing no signs of sympathy. ‘A recognition has triggered his memory block to release. He must have set certain mental keys to unlock his mind. My face, perhaps, maybe Nastrand’s…’

  She stopped to look him in the eyes.

  ‘Is that it, Thaddeus? Was I a key for your mind fortress? You made yourself forget, and now the sight of me prompts you to remember?’

  Saur shook still. He looked up at her with eyes red and streaming.