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Below him, the vast gates slid open on their runners, teams of sweating slaves pushing them out of the path of the crawler. It rolled forwards smoothly, drifting to a halt within the outer wall. Similar meetings were taking place at four other cities around the continent, to conceal the singularity of this particular one. The gate-captain stared down at the metal carapace, then slapped the tympanum beside him; rushing to avoid the lash, the slaves began to slide the doors shut again.
'THE WALLS,' JUDIT murmured, 'they're quite thick. Not just ceremonial. Suppose people hereabouts have a different attitude to the priesthood?'
Joachim snorted. 'From what? Priests are priests. Commoners don't mess with them, whatever. If there's anything I've ever learned, that's it. Why mess around?'
Judit bit back her reply and glanced at him slyly. Yes, but these priests are no servants of the Emperor. They have knowledge that
«Deathwing»
Edited by Marc Gascoigne & Andy Jones
is priceless by the standards of their world. So why are they left alone? If Joachim couldn't figure it out, she wasn't going to help him.
She set the crawler brakes and left the power on standby. Not that they'd have much chance of making a quick getaway; she'd seen the power-bows on the walls, and the automatic rifles.
Symptoms of a tech incursion. Joachim cracked the hatch and lowered the ramp; and out they stepped, onto alien soil.
A party of black-robed men was approaching them, their faces almost chalky-white beneath their cowls. Junior clerics swinging censers preceded them, aromatic smoke falling gently in the still air. It was humid but cool, as if they stood on clouds. Judit waited just ahead of Joachim to greet them, keeping her hands concealed in her cloak. She bit the inside of her cheek, feeling the familiar excitement: the rush of action. Every nerve on fire as her syn-skin sensed her mood and responded to it, interfacing with her nervous system and feeding her amplified senses with data.
The monks stopped just before they reached the crawler and stood there expectantly. 'Greetings,' Judit said in the native tongue, surprised at the ease with which the words came - earlier, she had donned a hypno-casque in order to learn the local language. 'I am the Imperial representative. I have come to speak to your abbot, as agreed with our earlier contact.'
The monks seemed slightly confused by the presence of a female. Presently one of them spoke. 'Where is the one who came to us before?' he asked in a clear, high voice.
'He was a messenger of low importance,' said Judit. 'I am an Imperial diplomat, and it is my honour to talk to your leaders.'
The monk nodded. ' We are in turn honoured by your estimable presence,' he said mellifluously. 'If you would be pleased to come this way…'
Judit moved in the direction indicated. Joachim followed her, his eyes roving contemptuously over the natives. None of the monks were armed - but that meant nothing. She felt her hair twitching at the thought of it. Monks with guns could only mean trouble.
Monks without guns could mean anything.
The inner wall, unlike the outer, had no large doors. Instead, a third of the way around the walls from where the crawler had entered, the monks led her to a small portal. As she passed within she noted that it was of hardwood bound in iron, and it was thick, but nothing like as thick as the walls. She glanced up, and her boosted vision noted the narrow slits in the ceiling.
Monastery, hell, she thought, this is a fortress!
Joachim was becoming increasingly twitchy. This was the first mission he had gone along on without massive fire support. Good, she thought. Maybe for once you'll see what it's like to do an honest day of work… It gave her a warm glow of triumph to see him discomfited.
They passed out of the inner wall of the monastery and came into a vast open space in the shape of a pentagonal figure. At each corner tall towers reared high into the sky, and yet there was a squat solidity to them that screamed fortification. In the distance, Judit could see monks going about their daily business; the party she was in the midst of seemed to attract no particular attention.
'How much further have we to go?' she asked. The monk with the high-pitched voice looked at her curiously, but censored his reply.
'Not far,' he said. 'The abbot will receive you in the white tower yonder.' He pointed out to her the tallest, most massive tower in the complex; it tapered to a needle-like spire, yet it possessed no windows less than ten metres from the ground.
They proceeded in silence to the foot of the tower. At this point, the censer-bearers stopped; they turned as one to face the east, and raised their voices in a strange chant. Joachim reached out and gripped Judit's arm. 'What's that?' he whispered.
'I don't know.' She shook off his hand in irritation. 'Some ritual. The star rises in that direction on this world, doesn't it? Even if they never see it,' Joachim nodded imperceptibly and stood, listening, while Judit's mind ran in overdrive.
Presently the door at the foot of the tower swung open on a hallway lit by torchlight. 'You may enter now,' said the monk. 'We are forbidden from the tower,' Judit looked at him askance, but no further guidance was coming: his face was a shut book. She stepped forward, and entered the belly of the beast.
Within the tower the evidence of siege readiness was, if anything, greater than without. Even Joachim must be noticing this, she realized. The man who thought that the ideal defence was a strike force of Space Marines and a sterilized planet at the other end, no matter how delicate the prize to be won. Paper and bombs! Which of these narrow steps were mounted on concealed pivots?
What of the polished, creaking floor? She felt a creeping admiration for whoever had designed this tower. You could lose an army in a frontal assault on this heap, unless you stood back and bombed it out. The opener of the door beckoned them in silently, then led them up the treacherous steps in perfect safety.
On the landing at the top of the second flight of stairs the monk paused and rapped twice on a sliding door. It slid open with a hiss of well-greased runners, and he bowed deeply before turning to descend the stairs. 'You may enter,' said a voice from within.
Joachim caught Judit's eye and nodded imperceptibly. All right. He knows what to do. Contented and ready, she stepped across the threshold.
TENZIG LOOKED UP, breathing in shallow, controlled sips to calm his racing heart. He straightened in his chair. 'You may enter,' he called, as authoritatively as he could. Standing by his side, the master of the secret arts nodded approvingly, then froze into stillness.
Tenzig sweated in the heavy, embroidered robes that had been prepared to impress the ambassadors, trying to look dignified.
There were two of them; the minimum requisite number for the display, should it be necessary. And here they came.
The diplomats entered. With a nervous flop of his heart, Tenzig thought: why, one of them is a woman! That was not something to which he was accustomed - not something he worried about unduly however, celibacy being no part of a Hitonian monk's vows.
They were both dressed from head to foot in a tight, form-fitting black garment that glistened like oil on water; and above that, a cloak and boots and other accoutrements of an exotic nature. She, the leader, was nondescript, short-haired, instantly forgettable; unlike her companion, who affected a bush of flaming red hair, and a face of brutal demeanour. That one is meant to look like the
«Deathwing»
Edited by Marc Gascoigne & Andy Jones
warrior, Tenzig thought, instantly deciding to concentrate on the woman.
The master opened his lips. 'The brother abbot will receive you now if you should speak your rank and praenomen,' he said stiffly.
Tenzig sat attentively, fingers clenched within his deep, long sleeves.
The woman spoke, lightly and intelligibly. 'I am Judit Bjarnesdottir, diplomat of the Adeptus Terra and aide to Inquisitor Rathman, head of the Imperial expedition to this cluster. This is Joachim Ahriman, an Imperial judge. I bring you greetings in the name of the Imperium, and in the name of In
quisitor Rathman who wishes me to express his sincerest wishes for peace and understanding between us.'
Tenzig kept a straight face. Stripped of the diplomatic argot, the meaning was as cold and simple as a naked blade. Imperial expedition. Peace and understanding. There was understanding, all right.
'Thank you kindly for your greetings. May I, too, express my sincere desire for peace and understanding between the Order of the Heavenly Virtues and your Imperium. However, the order being of a purely religious nature, I am filled with some curiosity as to why you might bring greetings from a secular institution to a humble monk such as myself?' And now the confirmation. The fingertips of his left hand fiddled inconspicuously with his sleeve, and he felt the presence of the master beside him, as tense as a coiled spring.
Waiting to unwind in his one, eternal moment of enlightenment.
The female diplomat smiled humourlessly, without showing her teem.
'There is no need for confusion, I assure you,' she said. 'Shall we dispense with the formalities?'
Very abrupt, Tenzig thought disapprovingly. Is that what we must look forward to in future? No matter. 'Certainly,' he said easily,
'by all means let us be brief. I ask again: why have you come here to trouble us for our attention?'
'You possess a library,' she said flatly. 'We know this. We wish to examine it. Such libraries give the owners great power. You control the supply of certain artefacts to the warlords of this world; you, not they, are important. The Imperium needs such libraries. It will not be desecrated or destroyed - but it will be necessary for Imperial scribes to enter and copy all your records for the archives of Terra.'
Her eyes were calculating, quizzical. If that's the worst she has in store for us, Tenzig thought, may whatever gods there are save us! 'Ah,' he said, extemporising hastily. 'You ask for much, I must warn you. What can we expect of your Imperium in return?'
The Imperial judge stared at him condescendingly. 'Ask not what the Imperium does for you,' he said, 'but what you can do for the Imperium. Do you not know that your very souls depend upon it? That without the divine Emperor the hordes of warp space would be upon you in an instant, bringing savagery and insanity in their wake?'
The master focused on the judge like a living gun. It will be him, thought Tenzig, the hard man, here to play against her diplomacy. Expendable. I wonder if he is aware of it?
The woman spoke up hastily, covering for her companion's outburst. 'Your Holiness, we prefer not to take, but to have given voluntarily. I stand before you unarmed,' at this the master stiffened even more, if that were possible, 'but bearing a warning. We are prepared to be merciful. In return for your cooperation, you shall be made lords of all that you survey; this expedition has other planets to attend to, and Inquisitor Rathman would be more man gratified to leave the maintenance of this world in your caring hands. I beg you, while you have the opportunity, cooperate! We have the power to destroy you in an instant…'
The judge snorted, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the master, searching for some hidden threat.
Tenzig breadied deeply, carefully. That is the dangerous one, he realised. The woman will negotiate, but that one is a fanatic… 'Is that your final word?' he asked, wondering when the master would act. 'Because if, so, I must—'
It seemed to happen in slow motion. As Judit opened her mouth, the master was already moving with the grace of a striking cobra.
The disc of shining steel flickered as it left his fingertips, and it was still spinning as he lunged forwards, the rod in his hands a dark promise of pain and death.
The shuriken caught Joachim full in the neck, laying open his aorta in a great gout of blood. He spasmed, the small pistol dropping from his fingers, even as the master altered course towards Judit. That was a mistake.
Her expression never changed as she raised her left index finger - but a pulse of blue light flashed from her ring, and she had merely to step aside from the corpse as it crashed to her feet.
The digital pistol was pointed squarely at Tenzig's abdomen. He stared at it. 'It would be very foolish of you to use that,' he said mildly.
The master lay on the floor; a dark stain was already edging out from beneath Joachim's corpse.
'I know,' said the woman. 'What guarantee of safe conduct can you give me?'
Tenzig felt release at the knowledge that he was not yet destined to die. 'You're no diplomat,' he accused.
'And you,' she smiled, 'are no monk.'
'Oh yes, I am a monk - but perhaps they do things differently in the Imperium.'
They locked eyes squarely. Her gaze was like looking into a mirror. Death in the morning. You must have wanted that one dead quite badly, he thought. You could have saved him!
'An assassin is a kind of diplomat,' Judit said dryly. 'So is a judge. It was up to you to decide which of us you would negotiate with. But I would like to know what kind of monks you are, before I commit myself to anything.'
Tenzig folded his hands in his lap, very slowly. 'Once upon a time,' he said, 'there was a peaceful colony, founded by a breakaway sect from old Terra. It existed in stasis for millennia, a duplicate of a long-dead civilisation. The tech wisdom was given into the hands of the monks for safe keeping… and then came the wars. And the disappearance of the stars, and the coming of madness.'
Judit nodded slowly. 'The STC source was valuable. You had to learn to defend it. You had to fight, use influence, kill those nobles who would—'
'What's an STC source?' Tenzig asked, feigning puzzlement.
Judit chewed her lower lip, watching him intently. After a long time, she said, 'Never mind. Your archives are valuable, then. No?'
«Deathwing»
Edited by Marc Gascoigne & Andy Jones
'That is correct. Our historical archives are incomplete, but no one else on this world can equal them. There was a sect of old Terra, millennia before our ancestors boarded the starships that brought them here,' The words tripped off his tongue with barely a hint of deception. 'And their descendants, the followers of the heavenly virtues—' and of the secret way. 'What we know, we inherited from them; not just tech, but our ways. And so…' He spread his arms.
Judit nodded again. 'Very good. If we can verify that nothing evil exists in your archives, we may leave you to your works; but first…' She paused.
'Yes?'
'There is still the matter of planetary governance,' she added. 'I was not exceeding my ambit when I offered you the rule of this world. Whatever he may have thought you fit for,' She nudged the corpse by her side with a black-shod toe. 'Your order appears to be able to enforce its desires…'
For a long instant, the world seemed to stand still in reverence. Tenzig heard the hammering of his own heart loud in his ears, a haunting from beyond the past. An offer of supreme power; security for the order, which by serving the Imperium might be ignored by it.
He looked at the slightly-built woman, and seemed to see through her to a time when things had been different; an age when absolutes were not on offer, an age more in keeping with the philosophy of the order, of the holy prophet who had stayed among men and preached of fate and the eternal cycle of being, and who had achieved enlightenment. Finally he nodded.
'On behalf of my order, I am constrained to accept this offer. If you carry the necessary documents, you are free to leave alive. I regret,' his eyes swept the floor, 'the necessity of this show of force.'
'Don't worry,' Judit grinned humourlessly. 'It was a necessary formality. We cannot afford to leave planets in the hands of weaklings.'
Yes, I understand, Tenzig thought. 'You wish to see the library, then?' he asked.
She nodded. 'That was what I came here for,' she said. 'To see it intact. Bombardment can make rather a mess of a planet. Take me there.'
'This way, then,' Tenzig stood, stiffly, and ushered her to the door. Together they descended the stairs, all the way to the basement.
'Here lie records saved in ages past,' said Tenzig, pausi
ng at the great wooden doors. Producing a key, he turned it in the lock and pulled, heart thundering behind his ribs.
'Lights,' said Judit tersely.
'Here,' Tenzig touched a switch, rubbed the dimple in the plastic that was worn smooth by ages of fingers. A warm glow flooded the corridor and the stacks of lovingly-catalogued scrolls that covered the walls. He stepped inside.
'Do you see?' he asked, questioningly. 'Do you see the source of our power?'
Judit nodded. 'Indeed,' she said. For here was wealth indeed, and power beyond the dreams of a barbarian warlord. 'We shall have to arrange for scribes to visit you,' she added, 'but this certainly confirms my offer to you.'
So this is why you came and negotiated, instead of dictating to us from above, he realized. A strange form of taxation, indeed…
He watched as she brought out the creamy parchment of the draft treaty, embossed with the Imperial seal, and held it before him so that he might see.
'And let us hope that this is the start of a great era in the history of your world!'
LATER, AFTER THE assassin had returned to her ship in the sky.
'And the master,' the abbot said thoughtfully. 'Do you believe he misinterpreted their response?'
Tenzig - now Master Tenzig - shook his head. 'Not exactly,' he said. 'More accurately, he understood all too well what their response would be. They are a hard people; some display of force was inevitable, really. A balanced response.'
'Yes,' said the abbot presently, 'then the reverend master fulfilled his duty. And you, Tenzig, have done your part.'
Tenzig bowed his head. 'But they will return. And next time it might be my calling to defend the order with my life.'
'Perhaps,' the abbot said. Then he smiled. 'But their ignorance of us has been increased to a safer level. You left them believing that the paper archives were our only source of wisdom.'