Nemesis

He cleared his throat. ‘Sir. I have word from our chapter serfs. The reports of preparations have been confirmed, as have those of the incidents in the Yndenisc Bloc and on Saros Station.’

‘Go on.’

‘You were correct to order surveillance of the Custodes. Captain-General Valdor was once again witnessed entering closed session at the Shrouds, with an assemblage of the Directors Primus of the Assassinorum clades.’

‘When was this?’ Dorn did not look at him, continuing to gaze out over the palace.

‘This day,’ Efried explained. ‘On the conclusion of the gathering a transmission was sent into close-orbit space, likely to a vessel. The encryption was of great magnitude. My Techmarines regretfully inform me it would be beyond their skills to decode.’

‘There is no need to try,’ said the primarch, ‘and indeed, to do so would be a violation of protocols. That is a line the Imperial Fists will not cross. Not yet.’

Efried’s hand strayed to his close-cropped beard. ‘As you wish, my lord.’

Dorn was silent for a long moment, and Efried began to wonder if this was a dismissal; but then his commander spoke again. ‘It begins with this, captain. Do you understand? The rot beds in with actions such as these. Wars fought in the shadows instead of the light. Conflicts where there are no rules of conduct. No lines that cannot be crossed.’ At last he glanced across at his officer. ‘No honour.’ Behind him, the sun dipped below the horizon, and the shadows across the balcony grew.

‘What is to be done?’ Efried asked. He would obey any command his primarch had cause to utter, without question or hesitation.

But Dorn did not answer him directly. ‘There can only be one target worth such subterfuge, such a gathering of forces. The Officio Assassinorum mean to kill my errant brother Horus.’

Efried considered this. ‘Would that not serve our cause?’

‘It might appear so to those with a narrow view,’ replied the primarch. ‘But I have seen what the assassin’s bullet wreaks in its wake. And I tell you this, brother-captain. We will defeat Horus… but if his death comes in a manner such as the Assassinorum intend, the consequences will be terrible, and beyond our capacity to control. If Horus falls to an assassin’s hand there will be a gaping vacuum at the core of the turncoat fleet, and we cannot predict who will fill it or what terrible revenges they will take. As long as my brother lives, as long as he rides at the head of the traitor Legions, we can predict what he will do. We can match Horus, defeat him on even ground. We know him.’ Dorn let out a sigh. ‘I know him.’ He shook his head. ‘The death of the Warmaster will not stop the war.’

Efried listened and nodded. ‘We could intervene. Confront Valdor and the clade masters.’

‘Based on what, captain?’ Dorn shook his head again. ‘I have only hearsay and suspicion. If I were as reckless as Russ or the Khan, that might be enough… But we are Imperial Fists and we observe the letter of Imperial law. There must be proof positive.’

‘Your orders, then, sir?’

‘Have the serfs maintain their observations,’ Dorn looked up into the darkening sky. ‘For the moment, we watch and we wait.’

EIGHT Cinder and Ash / Toys / Unmasked

1

The room in the compound they had given over for Perrig’s use was of a reasonable size and dimension, and the last of four that had been offered. The other three she had immediately rejected because of their inherent luminal negativity or proximal locations to undisciplined thought-groupings. The second had been a place where a woman had died, some one hundred and seven years earlier, having taken her own life as the result of an unplanned pregnancy. The adjutant, Gorospe, had looked at Perrig with shock and no little amount of dismay at that revelation; it seemed that no one among the staff of the Eurotas Consortium had had any idea the building on Iesta had such a sordid history.

But this room was quiet, the buzzing in her senses was abating and Perrig was as close to her equilibrium as she could be in a place so filled with droning, self-absorbed minds. Running through her alignment exercises, Perrig gently edited them out of her thoughtscape, eliminating the disruption through the application of a gentle psionic null-song, like a counter-wave masking an atonal sound.