Fear And Fire Part 4

Miriya gave Verity a sideways look. The Sister Hos-pitaller's expression was conflicted, compa.s.sion at the wretched man's mien warring with anger at his misdeeds. The Sister Superior stepped closer, into the circle of light cast by the biolumes overhead. You remember my face, don't you?'

Vorgo gave a jerky nod.

'Let me explain what is going to happen to you. There will be no court of law, no appeals, no due process.

She took in the lawmen and the prison with a wave of her hand. 'You will not be heard by the enforcers judges, you will not submit to a cap-tain's mast aboard the Mercutio! Miriya studied him gravely. 'You have aided and abetted in the murder of a Sororitas, colluded in the escape of a terrorist witch. You belong to the Sisters of Battle for us to persecute as we see fit. You have no rights, no voice, and no recourse. All that remains to be decided is how you will perish.

Vorgo emitted a whimper and said something unintelligible.

'Have you ever seen an arco-flagellant, Vorgo?' Miriya signalled to Ca.s.sandra and the other Battle Sister dropped her bolter into a ready stance. 'Let me tell you about them.' Her voice took on a cold, steely quality. 'As the Emperor wills, those who are found guilty of heresy and crimes of similar gravity are taken into the service of we who hunt the witchkin. Chirurgeons and Hospitallers adapt them to this new life with surgery and conditioning, implanting pacifier helms and lobotomaic taps in their brains.'

For emphasis, she tapped Vorgo's forehead with a finger. 'Imagine that. Your limbs removed, replaced with spark-whips and nests of claws. Eyes bored from your skull and stained gla.s.s in their places. Your heart and organs fixed with stimm injectors and neuropathic glands. And then, proud in your new body, what remains of your drooling waste of a mind will be turned to the good of the Imperium. With a word of my com-mand, you'll willingly fling yourself into the jaws of h.e.l.l, a berserk flesh-machine bound for a long, long death.' When she threw Ca.s.sandra a nod, the Battle Sister took aim at Vorgo's head. 'There is a cleaner, quicker way... but only for the repentant.' Miriya paused in front of the restraint rig. 'I will give you that gift if you tell me who you were working for. What compelled you to free Torris Vaun?'

Who?' said Vorgo, pushing the word out of his mouth. 'I don't know any Vaun.

'Are you playing games with me?' Miriya growled. 'There are others I can offer my mercy to. Now answer me, why did you free Vaun?'

'Don't know Vaun. The sailor shouted suddenly. 'My daughter. What have you done to my daughter, you b.i.t.c.h?'

'What is he talking about?' asked Verity.

The enforcer sergeant shifted and frowned. This again. Like I said, crying for his family, like all of them.

Can't get a proper answer from any of these wastrels.

Verity took the punch card that showed Vorgo's record and held it up to the light. The Imperial cen-sus notation here shows this man has no family. No daughter.

You can read the machine dialect?' asked Ca.s.san-dra.

The Hospitaller nodded. 'A little. I have worked closely with Sisters of the Orders Dialogous in the past.

Some of their skills are known to me.

'I love my daughter. spat the sailor, desperation making him lunge at the manacles. 'And you took her and put her in that gla.s.s jar. You black-hearted wh.o.r.es-'

Miriya slapped him with the flat of her ceramite gauntlet, knocking out a couple of teeth and silenc-ing him for the moment. 'He thinks our prisoner was his daughter? What idiocy is this?'

"Why in Terra's name would he think we had his non-existent child as our prisoner?' Ca.s.sandra shook her head. "This man was there. He saw the capsule's occupant first hand. He freed Vaun from the pskyerhood himself.

Miriya cupped the prisoner's chin in her hand. 'Who was in the capsule, Vorgo?'

'My daughter...' He sobbed. 'My beautiful daugh-ter.

'What is her name?' asked Verity, the question cut-ting through the air. 'What does she look like?'

Something went dark behind the sailor's eyes. 'Wh-what?' His face became slack and pasty.

'Her name, Vorgo. repeated the Hospitaller. Tell us your daughter's name, and we'll bring her back to you.'

'I... I don't... remember...'

'Just tell us, and we'll let you go free.' Verity took a step closer. 'You do know the name of your own daughter, don't you?'

'I... I...' From nowhere, the midshipman let out a piercing scream of agony, throwing his head from side to side. Vorgo wailed and his eyes rolled back in their sockets, blood streaming from his nose and ears. Verity ran to him as the man went limp against the rack.

After a moment she shook her head. 'Dead. A rup-ture within his brain, I believe.'

The psyker did that to him?' asked the enforcer with disgust.

'Impossible,' Miriya shook her head. 'Vaun's witchery is all brute strength and violence. He lacks the subtlety for something like this.'

'He would not have been able to control this man's mind from inside the capsule,' added Ca.s.san-dra, 'and certainly not the minds of a dozen men.'

Verity looked at the sergeant. The others from the Mercutio who helped Vaun escape, you say they are all calling for their loved ones?'

A nod. 'Like lost children.'

The Hospitaller turned to face Miriya. 'Sister Supe-rior, your prisoner did not escape of his own accord.

Someone freed him, someone who used these weak men like regicide p.a.w.ns. They were compelled to believe that a person they cared for deeply was in your custody.'

The sergeant snorted. 'You're an inquisitor now as well as a nurse, then, Sister?' He snapped his fingers at the dead man and the trooper at his side took the corpse away. 'Please excuse me if I don't take the word of a dozen lying traitors as to why they took it into their heads to free a ma.s.s-murderer. These men are bilge-sc.u.m, plain as nightfall. They reckoned they might earn some grat.i.tude from Vaun, so they busted him out. There's no witch-play or magic about it, pardon me for my impertinence!' He said the last words in a way that clearly showed he didn't mean them.

The simplest explanation is usually the right one. admitted Ca.s.sandra, and Verity looked at the floor, crestfallen.

When one deals with witches, nothing is simple. commented the Sister Superior.

CHAPTER FOUR .

The Canoness did a poor job of hiding her dismay as Miriya entered her chambers, frowning deeply over the pict-slate in her hand. The Sister Superior gave a contrite bow. 'Your eminence. I would speak with you.' Galatea did not offer her the room's only vacant chair. Instead, she placed the slate on her wide wooden desk and rolled back the sleeves of her day robe. 'I knew, Miriya. I knew it, somewhere deep in my marrow, from the moment the astropaths brought me the message from Prioress Lydia. When I saw your name on the doc.u.ment, I knew this day would not run smoothly' She gave a bitter laugh. 'I was in error, it seems. I underestimated considerably.' Miriya scowled. 'You and I have always read from different pages of the Emperor's book, but you understand me, Sister. We have fought the foe and prayed together afterwards a hundred times. You know I am not so lax that I would have let this hap-pen-'

'But you did. Galatea insisted, 'through your fault or not, Vaun's escape was on your watch and so you bear responsibility. And as our order's prime repre-sentative on this planet, by extension so do I. You have brought disgrace to Saint Katherine's name.

'Don't you think I am aware of that?' Miriya snapped angrily 'Don't you think I would take my own life here and now if that could undo what hap-pened? I lost two comrades to that monster, one buried, one broken.

The Canoness nodded. 'And more will die before Vaun is made to answer for his crimes, that much is certain. She turned to study the view through the room's stained gla.s.steel window. 'You have given me a b.l.o.o.d.y mess to clean up, Miriya.

'Let me do something about it. The Celestian took a step forward. 'No one on this world wants Vaun to pay more than I do. I want your permission to pur-sue my investigation of the fugitive.'He will be found. Neva is sealed tight. Vaun will never make it offworld alive. Galatea shook her head.

'His arrogance in coming home will be his undoing.

Vaun's not going to leave. insisted Miriya. 'Not until he gets what he wants.

'Oh?' The Canoness threw an arch look at her. 'Sud-denly you are an expert on this man? You have some inner knowledge of his thoughts and desires? Pray tell, Sister, of your belated insight.

She ignored the thinly veiled sarcasm. 'He's a brute, a thief and a corsair drawn only to what makes him richer or more powerful. He came to Neva because he wants something that is here.

Vaun came to Neva because he was captured, not of his own will.

'Did he?' It was Miriya's turn to sneer. 'Or per-haps he allowed himself to be caught, knowing full well he would be freed.

Galatea returned to her pict-slate, her attention fading with every moment. 'Oh, this is the theory advanced by the Hospitaller, yes? What is her name? Verana?'

'Sister Verity. corrected Miriya, 'of the Order of Serenity.

'An order not known for its expertise in martial matters. commented Galatea, dryly.

Miriya suppressed a snarl. 'She may not be a Bat-tle Sister, but she has a keen mind and a strong heart.

Her skills could prove useful to us.

'Indeed? Or is it merely that you feel an obliga-tion for letting her sibling perish?'

She looked away. There is some truth in that, I will not deny it. But still I stand by what I have said. I... I trust her. The admission surprised her as much as it did the Canoness.

Galatea shook her head again. 'Be that as it may, Sister Verity has no place here. Her dispensation to visit Neva extended only to the duration of Lethe's funerary service. The Order of Serenity has its works to perform on the outer moons with the sick and the diseased. It is my understanding that the workers there suffer in their service to the Imperium...'

You outrank the Palatine leading the mission on the moons. noted Miriya. "You would be within your remit to order Verity to linger here, if you wished it.

'If I wished it. repeated Galatea. 'I'm not con-vinced there is any value to having her remain. It's enough that you, a senior Battle Sister, have allowed your emotions to cloud your judgement on this matter. What can I expect of a mere medicae like Verity, a woman unused to the violence and trials that we will be facing?'

The same as any one of us. Miriya said grimly, 'that we embrace the pa.s.sion and do the Emperor's will.

She advanced as close as she could and laid her hands flat upon the Canoness's desk. 'Give me this, Galatea. I will ask you for nothing else, but give me this chance to make amends.

The weight and intensity behind the Sister Supe-rior's words gave her pause, and the two women studied each other for a long moment, measuring each other's resolve. Finally, Galatea broke the stale-mate and gathered up a fresh data-slate and an electro-quill. 'Despite what you may think of me, Miriya, I have always considered you to be an exem-plary warrior. Because of that, and that alone, I'll grant you the freedom to pursue this. She scratched out a line of words, the gla.s.sy plate turning her flowing script into precise letters as she wrote. 'But understand, you have no margin for error. If you do not bring Vaun to book, it will be the end for you - and you will drag the Hospitaller down as well.' The slate gave a soft, melodic chime as the messenger program within came to an end.

Miriya gave a low bow. Thank you, Sister Canoness. I promise you, we will see the witch burn for his transgressions.'

Galatea smiled a crooked smile. 'It is not me that you need to convince, Sister Superior. The esteemed Deacon Lord LaHayn is watching our convent like a hawk. I'm certain he will want to know every detail of how you plan to locate the psyker.'

'I do not understand.'

'You shall. The Blessing of the Wound begins at eight-bell today, and tradition requires that our order be in attendance at the fete of observance in the Lunar Cathedral.' She made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

You will accompany my party. Dress robes and full honours, Sister. Inform your squad.

In the streets, children who were too young to understand the true nature of an adult's penance ran alongside the flagellatory wagons and threw loose cobbles at the moaning, soiled people inside. Drawn down in cattle-shuttles from the penitentiary mines and work camps on the moons, the remorse-ful were brought to Neva by the promise of time deducted from their indentures or sentences, should they survive the great games of the festival. The ones who were already broken in will were of no use; those were kept on the moons to work until they died. Only the men and women who still held a liv-ing spark of inner strength were allowed to sacrificethemselves to the machine of the church in this great annual celebration.

So the priests and clerics in the chapels told it, everyone was remorseful. To be human was to be born that way, already alive only at the sufferance of the Emperor, but hard graft and piety were a good salve, and only the truly low were irredeemable. Criminals and heretics, dissidents and slaves, only they had no voice in the church - and as such, they were the best sacrifices for the Blessing of the Wound. Persistent rumours said that they would be joined by innocents who spoke too loudly about the church's severe rule or the flaccid, ineffectual regime of the planetary governor; the festival was always a good time to rid the city of unmutual thinkers.

On other Imperial worlds, there would be harvest celebrations and burnt offerings, great hymnal con-certs, sometimes fasting or dancing. A million planets and billions of people celebrated the great-ness of the Master of Mankind in their own sanctioned ways, and here, on this world of theolo-gians and rigid dogma, there was no dividing line between zealous penance and devout worship.

This year Noroc was alive with chatter on the streets and in the pulpits, even among the youths spilling out of the seminaries and schola. The lord deacon had promised the death of a witch to cap the festival's commencement this year, not a make-believe one using fireworks and lightning guns like they'd seen before, but a real live psyker. Now that was not going to come to pa.s.s, and rumours ran about the city like mice in the walls.

The barony and the moneyed castes looked on at the commoners and pretended they knew what was to be done instead, but they were just as ignorant -save for the knowledge that Lord LaHayn and Gov-ernor Emmel would have to collude to create something of equal spectacle to placate the people. All across the metropolis, individuals donned their ritual wear or chose their costumes if they were lucky enough to have received a blood red sum-mons paper. The icon sellers filled their stalls and emptied them, filled and emptied them again, tak-ing in fists of Imperial scrip and church-certified t.i.the beads.

This year, it was the new cotton shirts adorned with a gold-thread aquila that were the must-have item, and the enforcers had already broken up a minor fracas in the linen quarter after stock had sold out. Elsewhere, devotional parades where local girls painted themselves sun-yellow and wore wings, celebrated the pa.s.sing of Celestine. In other districts there were gleeful, impromptu stonings for those whose petty crimes had gone unpunished by the judges. The mood was a strange, potent mix of the buoyant and the fierce, with the l.u.s.t for hard violence hovering just beneath the surface. You could see it in the eyes of the running children, on the faces of their parents, reflected in the fervour of the city's thousands of clerics.

The carriages jumped cables and fell down the gentle incline towards the grandest of Noroc's basil-icas, the lofty pinnacle of the Lunar Cathedral. From a distance, the cathedral resembled a tall cone with geometric scoops cut from its flanks. In fact, these carefully a.s.sembled voids were aligned with the complex orbital paths of Neva's many moons, and during midnight ma.s.s it was often possible for parishioners inside to see the pinp.r.i.c.k lights of fusion furnaces on the surfaces of the distant, black-ened spheres.

Below the church was the oval ring of the amphitheatre from which LaHayn himself some-times held sermons. The ancient power of the great hololithic projectors ringing the edges turned him into a glowing ghost ten storeys tall, the ornate bra.s.s horns of a thousand vox-casters throwing his voice across the city.

For now, the arena was quiet, but that would soon change. Already, the shapes of elaborate scenery flats and large sections of stage set were coming together, casting alien shadows beneath the crackling yellow floodlights that hung from gas balloons. Once the carriages disgorged their cargoes of conscript actors, once the guns were charged and the mesh-weave costumes donned, the great performances of the day would begin in earnest.

Verity's first glimpse of the Lunar Cathedral's great chamber came over the shoulder of Sister Miriya's power armour, the high vault of the white stone ceiling rising away from her. The rock had a peculiar glitter about it where flecks of bright mica were caught in its matrix. Lights seemed to dance and play in the heights, and it was a far cry from the close, introspective feel of the convent. The Hospitaller had never seen so much gold in one place. It was on every surface, worked in lines across the mosaics on the floor, climbing up the columns in coils of High Gothic script, fanning in thick cables like a vast, honeyed web.

The people here were just as gilded as the cathe-dral interior. She pa.s.sed by women with arch expressions and a sense of disdain that seemed so deeply ingrained that it must have been bred into them. Their clothes mimicked the cut of Inquisitor-ial robes or, among the more daring, the garb of living saints. They fanned themselves with tessen, semicircles of thin jade that could double as an edged weapon in a fight.

verity doubted that any of these perfumed n.o.ble ladies would ever do anything so base, though. There were troupes of elaborate servitors hovering about each of them, some peeling grapes, some tast-ing wines fortheir mistresses. Each of the helots was probably armed with all manner of discreet - but lethal - firepower.

She watched the machine-slaves drift to and fro, and observed the way the women edited their servants from their world: they never looked directly at them, never spoke to them. They ignored their very existence, and yet depended entirely upon it.

One of the more audacious of the ladies said something whispered behind her fan and set a clutch of her friends giggling. Verity, the smallest and plainest thing for what must have been kilome-tres around, instantly knew the insult was directed at her.

At her side, the Battle Sister called Ca.s.sandra caught the ripple of spiteful amus.e.m.e.nt and made a show of sniffing, before turning a soldier's eye on the servitors. 'A pa.s.sable combat construct. she noted to no one in particular, 'but I imagine any attacker would be turned back before these slaves could be called to arms.

'How so?' asked Sister Portia.

'Even a s.p.a.ce Marine would find those fragrances an irritant. she replied, her voice low - but not that low.

'I suspect a crop-duster was used to apply them.

Verity couldn't help but s.n.a.t.c.h a look back at the n.o.blewomen, and the pink blushes colouring their faces.

They walked on, the rolling murmur of the fete rising and falling as merchants and theologians made their small talk in drifting shoals of conversa-tion. The Hospitaller kept in line with Miriya and her unit, as Miriya in turn followed the Canoness Galatea and her adjutant Sister Reiko. Verity saw dozens of priests of ranks too numerous to tally, all in various cuts of crimson and white. A very few wore gold and black, and the men in red congre-gated around them, pups before pack leaders. Verity bowed whenever one of them crossed the orbit of the Adepta Sororitas contingent, but she suspected that her presence was not even noticed. She allowed herself to survey the edges of the gathering as they crossed beneath a great silver glow-globe hanging on suspensors in the chancel. There were a few Sis-ters from other orders here, representatives of the Orders Famulous and Dialogous. She shared looks with those women, curt nods that carried a dozen subtle signals.

The mix of the pious and the laity was about even. The cream of Neva's magnate cla.s.s preened in their copious robes, and something of the arrogance of it made verity uncomfortable. This was, after all, a place of the Emperor's worship, not a ballroom for foppish merchants. The men - they were almost all male - proudly displayed the sigils of their n.o.ble houses on medallions, tabards and tunics. The Hos-pitaller reflected: the last time she had seen many of those symbols, they had been rendered as livid brands burnt into the flesh of indentured workers, or carved across the smoke-belching stacks of man-ufactories, as an undisciplined child might daub their name on a wall.

Their procession stopped with such abruptness that Verity was jolted from her thoughts and almost walked into the back of Sister Isabel. She recovered quickly, frowning at her lack of focus.

It took a moment for Verity to recognise the man that Galatea stood before, a stiff salute in her pose. She had seen his placid, patrician face on billboards out at the port, and on some of the moons, on posters drawn over with rude graffiti.

'Governor Emmel, are you well?' asked the Canoness.

He presented an expression of theatrical sadness. 'As well as can be expected, my dear lady. It has been explained to me that my festival's star attraction will not be appearing. Verity could tell from his tone of voice that Emmel was more distressed about the prospect of throwing a poor festival than he was that Torris Vaun was at large among his people.

The Adepta Sororitas will ensure that your distress will be short-lived,' Galatea replied smoothly. The matter is in hand.'

That seemed to be enough to satisfy the planetary ruler, his gaze already wandering to the perfumed women congregating at the wine fountain. Ah, good. I know I can place my trust in the Daughters of the Emperor...'

From the edge of her vision came a cl.u.s.ter of other aristocrats, buoyed up on drink and sweet tabac smoke.