Nemesis

ensure my silence by killing me. If you make the attempt, there is a chance you may

succeed. But you are conflicted by the thought of such an action. It is something

your… brother… would not hesitate to do in your place.”

“I am not Eristede,” she insisted.

“No, you are not.” Iota’s face softened. “What is it like?”

“What?”

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“Having kindred. Siblings. I have no concept or experience of it. I was matured in

an enclosed environment. A research facility. Your experience… fascinates me.

What is it like?” she repeated.

Strangely, Soalm felt a momentary pang of sadness for the Culexus. “Difficult,”

she replied, at length. “Iota, listen to me. Please, say nothing to the others about the

chapel.”

“If I do not, will you try to kill me?”

“Will you force me?”

The Culexus shook her head. “No.”

Where? Where was the Warrant?

The question thundered through Spear’s mind and it would not let him go. He

could not find rest, could not find a moment’s peace until the document had been

located. Everything about his master’s careful, intricate plan hinged on the

procurement of that one item. Without it, the assassination of the Emperor of

Mankind was impossible. Spear was useless, a gun unloaded, a sword blade blunted.

His existence had no meaning without the kill. Every single death he had performed,

all of them, from the strangling of his birthparents to the ashing of the Word Bearer

who came to slit his throat, the fools on Iesta Veracrux, the psy-witch, the

investigators and the man whose face he now wore— all of them were only steps on

a road towards his ultimate goal.

And now, Merriksun Eurotas had denied him that. The bloody rage Spear felt

towards the Void Baron was so all-consuming that the killer feared merely laying

eyes on the man would shatter his cover and send him into a berserker frenzy.

Spear had all but the most trivial of Hyssos’ memories absorbed within him, and

the operative had never known that the Warrant of Trade on display in the reliquary

was a fake. There were fewer than a dozen men and women in the entire Eurotas

Consortium who outranked the operative in matters of security… Spear wondered if

one of them might know the true location of the tome. But how to be sure? He could

kill his way through them and never be certain if they had that precious knowledge

until he sucked it from their dying minds; but he could not risk such reckless

behaviour.

Eurotas himself would know. But murdering the Void Baron here and now,

disposing of a body, passing through another assumption so soon after having torn

Hyssos’ identity from his corpse… This was a course fraught with danger, far too

risky to succeed.

No. He needed to find another way, and quickly.

“Hyssos?” The nobleman’s voice was pitched high and sharp. “What are you

doing here?”

Spear looked up as Eurotas crossed the anteroom of the rogue trader’s personal

quarters where he stood waiting. “My lord,” he began, moderating his churning

thoughts. “Forgive my intrusion, but I must speak with you.”

Eurotas glanced over his shoulder as he tied a velvet belt around the day robes he

was wearing. Through a half-open door, it was possible to glimpse a sleeping

chamber beyond. A naked woman was lying in a doze back there on a snarl of bed

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sheets. “I am engaged,” the baron said, with a grimace. He seemed distracted. “Come

to the audience chamber after we enter the warp, and—”

“No sir,” Spear put a little steel into Hyssos’ voice. “This won’t wait until we set

off for Arrowhead. If I am correct, we may need to return to Iesta Veracrux.”

That got his attention. Eurotas’ eyes narrowed, but not enough to hide the flicker

of fear in them. “Why would that be so?”

“I have been retracing my steps, going over my notes and recollections from the

Iestan murders.” He fixed the baron with a level gaze and began to pay out the fiction

he had created over the last few hours; a fiction he hoped would force the nobleman

to give up the information he so desperately needed. “The two men… Yosef Sabrat

and Daig Segan, the ones who did those terrible deeds. There was something they

said that did not seem right to me, at the end when I thought I would be killed by

them.”

“Go on.” Eurotas went to a servitor and had it pour him a glass of water.

“Sir, they spoke about a warrant.” The baron stiffened slightly at the word. Spear

smiled inwardly and went on. “At the time I thought they meant warrants of arrest…

But the thought occurs that they may have been talking about something else.” He

nodded towards a painting on the wall, an impressionistic work showing the current

Void Baron reading from the Warrant of Trade as if it were some scholarly volume

of esoteric knowledge.

“Why would they be interested in the Warrant?” Eurotas demanded.

“I do not know. But these were no ordinary murderers, sir. We still cannot be

certain by what exact means they terminated poor Perrig… And the things they did at