by William King
‘Really?’
‘He has been reaching out to the Adeptus Astartes in subtle ways. That is not something the Imperium encourages in its generals. It likes its various military arms to be separate.’
I thought about the Fist and the potential uses Macharius might have for it, and all the time I was aware of Anna studying me. Doubtless she was learning one of the things she had come to learn. ‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because you are part of his bodyguard, and you will be in the line of fire when his enemies move against him.’
‘They would be foolish to do that if he is as powerful as you say. He could crush them with ease.’
‘He would be fighting with shadows. Macharius has one sort of power, they have another.’
‘I think you will find that Macharius is adept at all the uses of power.’
‘No doubt, but so are his enemies. It may be possible for them to find those among Macharius’s followers who would replace him. They have armies too, great warlords whose soldiers are loyal unto them.’
‘They would never turn against Macharius.’
‘The same was once said of the Emperor himself. His greatest generals rebelled against him.’
‘That is close to blasphemy, Anna.’
‘Have I shocked you, Leo? Are you going to report me to the inquisitor?’ Her smile was mocking.
‘You already know the answer.’
‘I could report you for not doing so.’
‘There are many things you could have reported me for. You have yet to do so.’
Her smile turned pleasant. ‘I am serious, Leo. Some of Macharius’s own generals will be encouraged to plot against him. Perhaps it is already happening.’
‘Why would they do that?’
‘You are not so naive, Leo. You have seen some of these men up close. They are great generals in their own right. They too wish to write their names in the Imperial histories. Right now, they are merely moons reflecting Macharius’s solar glory. If Macharius were gone…’
She let the words hang in the air and I could see she was really was serious.
‘You want me to tell him this.’
‘He already knows. Macharius is not a stupid man, and as you have pointed out he understands the uses of all kinds of power. He also understands men who are motivated by glory. How could he not? He is first among them.’
‘I sometimes think you do not like the Lord High Commander.’
‘It does not matter whether I like him, Leo. It matters whether I serve him.’
She was a woman with a very firm grasp on what was important, was Anna, and a gift for the precise use of words, as I was to find out.
‘I do like him,’ I said. I was surprised to hear myself saying that.
‘It is in your self-interest to,’ she said.
‘I would like him anyway, even if it were not.’
‘You have an unswerving loyalty, you and your friends, I envy you that.’
‘And you don’t?’
‘I am loyal only to the Emperor.’ She said this very distinctly, as if giving a fair warning.
‘Does He give you His orders directly?’
‘I am loyal to what he represents.’ We were looking at each other warily now. I was not quite sure why she was telling me this. Perhaps she wanted me to understand finally at the end of things, and perhaps I did when it came. ‘You are too.’
And then as sudden as a summer squall on the sea of storms, her mood changed. ‘Do you remember Xenophon?’
I nodded.
‘I remember the islands and the beaches,’ I said. It blazed in my memory, bright with sunshine. I remembered giving her some seashells I had collected. They were polished to a sheen by the action of wave and sand. I wondered whether she still had them or whether they had been dumped along with all the other detritus of her life when she travelled.
‘Me too,’ she said. ‘I was happy there.’
She said it as if happiness were a concept that she did not quite understand, a strange intrusion from somewhere alien, a wonder which she still needed to try and grasp.
‘You will be guarding Macharius during his triumphal procession?’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘Be very careful, Leo,’ she said. ‘I would hate to see any harm come to you.’
I looked at her. I almost reached out but she was already in motion, rising from the bed, garbing herself in her robe. She dressed with grace and speed and no wasted effort, but when she stopped she was suddenly as clumsy as anyone else, wearing normality as a disguise, hiding what she was by pretending to be one of us, pretending to be only human.
She was good at that, as she was at anything she put her mind to. What she was best at was deception.
Nine
‘As ever, Helicon Blight is at your service, your excellency,’ the rogue trader said as he bowed to Macharius. I studied him closely. He was a tall, spare-looking man with a lined, sunburned face, craggy features and a sprinkle of grey in his hair. His clothing was of the finest fabrics, but it was not local manufacture. It was from some distant system still far outside the scope of the crusade, a reminder that not so long ago these worlds had been outwith the remit of the Imperium, and that we were still very close to the new frontier. Rogue traders were among the few citizens licensed to trade beyond its borders. They had other reasons for existing as well.
I knew Blight for an ambitious man and a spy. I had seen him reporting to Macharius in private on multiple occasions over the past decade, whenever he returned from one of his trading trips. His eyes were like chips of blue ice, and they stayed focused totally on Macharius as if they could divine the future by the study of the expression on his face.
‘Can you help me, Blight?’ Macharius asked. There was no sign of the eagerness he had shown about this matter in his discussions with Drake. He was once again a cold, calm Imperial general. ‘I wish very much to return to Procrastes and free its inhabitants from the scourge of these xenos.’
‘From what you have told me, it is a tricky passage, Lord High Commander,’ said Helicon Blight. ‘The fact that Admiral Kellerman flatly refuses to order his fleet to do as you have requested confirms that.’
Behind him, through a vast crystal dome, I caught sight of the blue shimmering orb of Emperor’s Glory. Blight sat in an ornate throne. He smoked some char-weed from a hookah. It was no way to greet an Imperial commander, but here on his own ship Blight was ranking and perhaps he wanted to make the point. Macharius did not seem in the slightest bit disturbed. ‘The Procrastes system is between two of the great warp storms and there are constant chronal flux streams emerging from there that can easily pull a ship off course. As you have found out to your cost.’
Macharius raised an eyebrow. The merchant prince said, ‘I am not haggling, Lord High Commander, nor telling you how difficult it is just to raise my fee. You know I am your man and would do this for nothing. I am telling you the way the thing truly lies.’
‘Difficult then, not impossible,’ said Macharius.
Blight took a puff on his hookah and offered the mouthpiece to Macharius. The general accepted it.
‘Exactly so. With a sufficiently skilled Navigator we could make the passage, although I am not sure I would advise you to risk it. If I may be so bold, commission me to acquire what you seek and I will return with it or die in the attempt. My life is far less valuable to the Imperium than yours.’
‘I have already made up my mind that I must personally supervise this operation.’
Blight shrugged as though the matter were settled. ‘I would advise you to speak to Raymond Belisarius then. His kinswoman Zarah is in port now and is the most skilled Navigator in the sector. She also has some experience with those warp currents.’
‘You do not feel your own Navigators could handle the matter? The less people who know of this the better.’
‘I have every confidence in my people, but in cases such as this, with yourself as super-cargo, I would w
ant the very best. Why risk anything else? Of course, it would cost the ransom of a planetary governor to hire her away from her present job.’
‘I have the ransom of a thousand planetary governors,’ said Macharius. ‘Such questions are immaterial.’
‘Very good then, sire. I will open negotiations with House Belisarius.’
‘I wish to meet with them myself when you have concluded your arrangements.’
‘That too can be arranged,’ said Blight. ‘Anything can, for a price.’
‘I will meet any price that is likely to be asked,’ said Macharius.
‘I do not doubt it, your excellency,’ said Blight. ‘I do not doubt it at all.’
There was something strange about being in the presence of a Navigator. The strangeness was magnified when there was two of them, but that was not what held all of our attentions. It was the man who was with them, standing immobile as a statue behind their thrones.
He was tall, taller by far even than Macharius, and very broad. His ceramite armour made him seem broader still. His eyes had a peculiar canine quality in the way they reflected the light. Long whiskers drooped from his lips, huge sideburns concealed half his face. In his hands he held a bolter I would have struggled to lift. For all the life he showed, he might well have been a statue, but you just knew that he could come explosively to life and kill everything in the room if he chose to. This was one of the Wolfblades, one of the legendary wardens of House Belisarius provided by the Space Wolves Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes. He was bodyguard to the Navigators just as I was to Macharius, but on his own he was probably a match for the score of us.
Raymond Belisarius was a thin man, with a long face and cold, watchful eyes. He had a scarf wrapped around his forehead that bore the sign of his House. It hid the mutated third eye that was the mark of the Navigator and which in his case was said to be hideous beyond belief. According to the dossiers, he was some sort of cripple as far as his House was concerned. His third eye did not function as it was supposed to and let him guide ships through the perils of the warp. Instead, he had other gifts: a tremendous understanding of the workings of finance and trade, and an astonishing insight into the corrupt workings of the human heart. He was not only in charge of his House’s business out here with the crusade, he was their spymaster and their chief merchant.
Like Blight, he had previously had dealings with Macharius. I had known the two of them to hunt together in the Great Dome in the palace. There were always times when they were apart from others and no one could overhear their discussions. Looking at the Wolfblade and knowing what I now did, I was beginning to have my suspicions about those talks.
Zarah Belisarius was a lovely, ethereal woman, who did not appear to be much older than twenty, although she was at least ten times that. Her face was that of a tranquil saint, her form willowy rather than full. She studied Macharius in a way that showed a good deal of interest. I supposed he was used to it, being who he was and all.
‘Helicon Blight has told us of your request,’ said Raymond. His speech was formal and seemed entirely for the benefit of his cousin. I wondered how much the other members of his House knew about his dealings with Macharius. ‘He has not told us why you wish to go to this dangerous place.’
‘That is my business,’ said Macharius. ‘I am willing to pay a good deal of money to see that it stays that way.’
The Navigator nodded as though he understood. He ran one long, narrow finger along his thin lower lip then touched the dimple on his upper lip. ‘It is not just a question of money, it is a question of risk,’ he said. ‘We need to know what we may encounter when we get there in order to best decide whether to attempt it.’
Macharius looked at him, looked at the Wolfblade and then at Zarah. He smiled his most charming smile. ‘You know as much about the Procrastes system as I. I have given you the information we have. I wish to free those under the xenos yoke and return them to the Emperor’s Light. I will also avenge the insult of their attack on my ship. They stole something of great value to me and perhaps to people I wish to befriend.’ A flick of his eyes indicated the Wolfblade.
I was not surprised at how circumspect Macharius was being. Navigators had their own culture going back past the dawn of the Imperium, and Belisarius was one of the oldest of their Houses. They also had connections with the Space Wolves Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes dating back to the Great Crusade. ‘Are you interested, or should I take my business elsewhere?’ Macharius said.
‘Lord High Commander, it is up to my kinswoman. She may decide whether she wishes to take the contract or not.’ He looked at Zarah. She looked at Macharius.
‘I have some business to conclude here, and if I must break contract with my present employers then penalty clauses will be invoked and compensation called for.’
‘I will cover those,’ said Macharius.
‘Those will be at a premium, when the reasons are known,’ said Raymond.
‘Perhaps it would be best if the reasons were not public knowledge then,’ said Macharius. ‘Our association has been mutually beneficial in the past, and it would be wise on both our parts to ensure that it continues to be so.’
Macharius was giving a polite warning not to try extorting too much.
‘It shall be as you say, Lord High Commander.’
‘Good,’ said Macharius. ‘When can we expect to depart?’
Raymond looked at Zarah. She said, ‘One standard week if Helicon Blight’s ship is ready.’
‘Very good,’ said Macharius. ‘It means I have time to conduct business with my commanders.’
I could tell he was disappointed, though. He had wanted to depart immediately if he could.
Ten
The day was warm. The sun was shining, as it always was on Emperor’s Glory, bringing another perfect day to a perfect world. The only things that looked out of place were the grim gunships standing on the plascrete of the space-field, and the countless smaller commercial vessels coming and going.
Macharius stood on the landing ground. Inquisitor Drake was with him. They watched as enormous ramps were attached to the side of a massive military shuttle. They talked constantly, scoring points off each other with gusto. They were both clever men with strong views, and I think they saw such contests as a challenge, the way some people play regicide or spar against each other with wooden swords.
I listened to them as I watched our surroundings for threats. ‘You need to be more tolerant of the failings of the Administratum,’ Drake said. ‘It is a great machine. It works very slowly, but it works.’
‘My men’s lives depend on getting the right supplies in the right place at the right time,’ said Macharius. ‘All armies depend on this as much as the courage and faith of our soldiers.’
‘I would not presume to contradict you on such things,’ said Drake. ‘You know far more about them than I do.’
‘On the other hand…’ Macharius said. He knew that the inquisitor deferred to him only to set up another point.
‘On the other hand, I do know about the way the Imperium is ruled. You cannot make demands of the people you make demands of. You cannot threaten them the way you do. You cannot execute them for failing to meet your expectations. You must make them your allies.’
‘So my men must go without ammunition so some contractor can grow rich from graft? My tanks must go without fuel because of the incompetence of some placeman, whose relatives just happen to be high in the Administratum?’
‘Some would say your generals grow rich from the plunder of worlds,’ Drake said mildly. The fact that he could say such a thing while standing with Macharius and awaiting Sejanus said a lot about his power, his confidence and his familiarity with the general.
‘They have earned what they take with their blood and their courage.’
‘With the blood of the Emperor’s soldiers and the courage of the Emperor’s faithful,’ countered Drake. ‘Not to mention the products of the Emperor’s temple-factories and the wea
lth of the Emperor’s worlds.’
‘The Imperium gets its rightful tithe. The soldiers share in the spoils of victory.’
‘That is not the point,’ Drake said.
‘Then what is?’ Macharius countered.
‘Corruption is just a point of view. I could, if I chose to, see it in the way your generals dispose of the spoils of victory. Any fair-minded observer could. You choose to see it only where it works against you.’
‘I see it where it is.’
‘No doubt. And no doubt you are correct. How do you think your generals would feel if you purged them for taking the spoils you had previously awarded them?’
‘You are surely not trying to make a comparison between my generals and corrupt administrators?’
‘You have not answered my question,’ said Drake. ‘Would your generals support you with such enthusiasm? Would they perhaps think they were being persecuted unfairly?’
‘Would you stop asking rhetorical questions?’ Macharius’s voice was mocking, and he mimicked the inquisitor’s tone with uncanny precision.
‘Obviously they would not,’ said Drake, not in the least affected. ‘They would be upset. They would think it unfair if you changed the rules so late in the game.’
‘We are playing a game now, are we?’
‘A very serious one, as you well know, Lord High Commander.’
‘Ah, you use my title, that must mean you are getting ready to slide the blade into my ribs. Metaphorically speaking, of course.’
Drake just looked at him.
‘You were about to slowly and painfully belabour your point,’ Macharius said. He was smiling, bringing the full force of his charm to bear to take the sting out of his words.
‘My point is a very simple one. The men you blame for the corruption are just doing the things that have always been done. They did not set up the system. They grew up with it. They are merely doing what their fathers did before them and their grandfathers before that, and on and on, back perhaps to the time when the Emperor was first immured within his Throne.’