Nemesis

darker. “Let me tell you what I am afraid of,” she said. “And you will understand

why the struggle is so important. There are sinister forces at large in the universe,

child.”

“The Warmaster…”

“Horus Lupercal is only an agent of that unchecked anarchy, my dear. There are

manifestations coming into being on every world that falls into the shadows cast by

the Warmaster’s ambition. Out in the blackness between the stars, cold hate grows.”

Soalm found the woman’s quiet, intense voice compelling, and listened in

silence, captured by her words.

Sinope went on. “You and I, mankind itself and even the God-Emperor… All are

being tested by a chorus of ruinous powers. If our Lord is truly divine, then we must

159

know that He will have his opposite, something beyond our understanding of evil…

What terrifies me is the dream of what will come if we let that hate overwhelm our

glorious Imperium. There will be disorder and destruction. Fire—”

“And chaos,” said Jenniker.

Had the choice been his, the killer would have preferred to wait until the Iubar and

its attendant ships had reached the Sol system before attempting this penetration; but

Spear’s windows of opportunity were limited, and growing smaller with each passing

hour. It was simply the most expedient option to do this now. Once they were within

the boundaries of the Segmentum Solar, security around the Eurotas flotilla would

increase tenfold and Operative Hyssos would have much to occupy his time and

attention.

And then there was the other possibility to consider; that his target, once marked

and stored, might be sufficiently powerful that Spear’s ability could be released

against it from across an interplanetary distance. He hoped that would not prove to be

so—Spear relished the moment of great joy when he looked a kill in the eye and saw

the understanding of the end upon it. To be denied that in his crowning moment… It

would be simply unjust.

The killer kept to the lines of tiles that glowed phosphor-green through the

gelatinous lenses the daemonskin had grown over his eyes; normal human vision

would have noticed nothing to differentiate the tiles on the floor of the reliquary, and

so a luckless entrant would wander into one of the zones of contra-gravity stitched

into the chamber—there to float trapped until the guards came with guns and ready

trigger-fingers.

He ignored the works of art and objects of incredible value that arrayed the long

gallery, each given pride of place in an alcove of its own. The remains of every

Eurotas Void Baron since the first were held here, their ashes in urns as tall as a

child, the containers made from spun diamond, tantalum, the shells of a Xexet quintal

and other materials, each rarer and more expensive than the last. Portraits of lords

and ladies from the clan’s history dominated every surface, and all of them stared out

sightlessly at Spear as he threaded his way past, avoiding the perception spheres of

beam sensors and magnetic anomaly detectors. The daemonskin’s fronds waved

gently as he moved, continually tasting the ambient atmosphere and temperature to

keep the intruder cooled in synchrony. The thermal monitors studding every square

centimetre of the reliquary walls looked for the glow of body heat, but saw nothing.

All the patient, clever machines continued to believe the chamber was still empty.

At the far end of the gallery, inside a glass stasis cage on a plinth made of white

marble and platinum, was the Warrant of Trade.

Spear slowed as he approached it, licking his lips behind the bindings of his scab

mask. The motion made the oily skin peel back over his cheeks, revealing teeth, a

grin.

The book was made of real paper, fabricated from one of the last natural forests

on Venus. The ink had been refined from burst-sac fluids harvested from Jovian

skimmer rays. Artisans from Merica had assembled the tome, bound it in rich groxhide.

Inlaid on the cover, flecks of gemstones from all the colonised worlds of the Sol

system shimmered in the light of the gallery’s electrocandles. This book was the

160

physical manifestation of the Eurotas clan’s right to travel the stars. More than their

fleets of vessels, their armies of staff and crew, more than the fiscal might they

wielded over countless worlds and industrial holdings across the Taebian Stars—

more than any of those things, the Warrant was what gave Merriksun Eurotas and his

kindred the Emperor’s permission to trade, to voyage, to expand the Imperium’s

influence through sheer economic power.

The killer almost laughed at that. As if any being could parcel out sections of the

universe to his followers like plots of land or portions of food. What hubris. What

monumental arrogance to assume that they had that entitlement. Such power could

not be given; it could only be taken, through bloodshed, pain and the ruthless

application of will.

The glass case had a complex mechanism of suspensors and gravity splines