Nemesis

“I ask only that you show mercy to my friends here.” Sinope held up the heavy

book in her hands. “I brought this to Dagonet. I brought it here, to the resistance,

when I fled the treachery of my former noble clan. If anyone must suffer because of

that, it should be me alone.” Her eyes glittered with unspent tears. “If I must beg you,

I will. Please do not hurt them because of me.”

No one spoke as Soalm stepped past the two warriors and took the book from the

old woman’s trembling hands. She read aloud the words on the page. “The Emperor

protects.”

“We only seek solace in His name,” said Sinope, her voice falling to a whisper. “I

know that it is forbidden to speak openly of Him and His divine ways, but we do so

only among ourselves, we do not proselytise or seek out converts!” She clasped her

hands. “We are so few. We take in only those who come to us of their own free will.

We have hurt no one with our beliefs!”

Soalm ran her fingers over the pages of dense, solemn text. “You are all followers

of the Lectitio Divinitatus. You believe the Emperor is a living god. The only god.”

148

Sinope nodded. “And I will die with that belief, if that is what is required. But

promise me I will be the only one. Please!”

She understood, finally. “I have not come to purge you,” Soalm told them. “I…

We did not even know you were here.” There was a strange, giddy sense of events

shifting around her.

“But you were sent from Terra…” said one of the men.

“Not for this,” said the Venenum, turning to meet Lady Sinope’s gaze, raising her

arm as she did so and drawing back her cuff. “And until this moment, I was not

certain why.” Soalm showed them a small golden chain clasped around her wrist, a

charm dangling from it in the shape of the Imperial aquila. “But now… Now I have

an inkling.”

“She’s one of us,” said the man. “She believes.”

Sinope’s expression became one of joy. “Oh, child,” she said. “He sent you. He

sent you to us.”

Soalm returned the book to her and nodded.

Kell looked up as the men boiled into the central chamber in a rush of energy and

jubilation, weaving through the scattered clumps of hardware and containers, the

groups of people who stopped and smiled to see them returning. They still had the

smell of cordite, woodsmoke and exertion on them. He scanned the group with a

practised eye and saw they had all come back, and only with a few minor injuries.

The squad leader, an ex-pilot named Jedda, came over to where Capra was standing

at a vox console and enveloped him in a bear hug. “It’s done?” said Capra.

“Oh, it’s more than done!” Jedda laughed, the rush of battle still there in his

voice. His men shared the moment and laughed with him. “Tariel’s information was

dead on! We blew out the supports for the bridge and the whole cargo train went

down. Hundreds of clanner troops, a dozen fan-jeeps and armoured GEVs, all of it

scrap at the bottom of the Redstone river!”

“They’ll feel that,” snorted one of the others. “The nobles will be tasting blood

tonight!”

Capra turned and gave Kell a nod. “Thank your man for me. In fact, thank them

all. A month ago I would never have thought I’d be saying this, but we actually have

them on the defensive. The data and guidance you’ve provided us has enabled the

resistance to make coordinated strikes all over the planet. The nobles are reeling.”

“The mistake they made was their arrogance,” said Koyne, wandering up to the

group. The men parted to let the Callidus come closer; they were all unnerved by the

bland, unfinished cast to the assassin’s neutral features. “They believed they had

won, and lowered their guard. They didn’t expect you to hit back in synchrony.

You’ve put them off balance.”

“We’ll help you keep up the pressure,” Kell told the resistance leader. “All we’ve

done so far is show you how to find the cracks in their armour. You need to keep

widening them until they break.”

Jedda nodded to himself. “We didn’t lose a single man tonight. We keep this up,

the commoners who haven’t committed will side with us.” He grinned at Kell. “At

this rate, your fleet might get here and find it has nothing to do!”

149

“We can only hope,” said Koyne, drawing a look from the Vindicare.

“Capra!” Beye crossed the chamber at a jog, “Grohl’s back!”

Kell saw the grim-faced freedom fighter following her, unfurling his overhood

and cloak. He had a scuffed carryall over one shoulder.

“From the capital?” said Jedda. “We made a lot of noise tonight, Terrik! Did they

hear it back there in the towers?” His triumphant mood rolled against the other man’s

stony countenance and rebounded without effect.

“They heard all right,” said Grohl. He dropped the carryall on a crate being used

as a makeshift table and threw off his robes with an irritable shake. “The Governor