Fear And Fire Part 9

'No. Verity shook her head. 'You hold no blame. In some strange way I am pleased that I could look Vaun in the eye. At least now I can give a form to the pain in my heart.

'You should return to the mission of the Order of Serenity. Last night's attack will change things here, and I foresee that the bloodshed and turmoil will only increase.'Thank you for your concern, Sister Miriya, but I refuse. Don't think me a delicate flower just because I bear no sword or bolter in my duties. My Order has served on hundreds of h.e.l.l-worlds and battlefields. I know the face of horror well enough.

The other woman's head bobbed. 'As you wish. For a moment she was silent, studying the Hospi-taller.

'But Vaun... He did speak to you, didn't he? Your answer to Venik's question-'

'I was not entirely forthcoming. Verity looked away. Yes. He... He told me Lethe's death was just a matter of course. Nothing personal.

'A convenient excuse for his kind. How else could he commit such acts of barbarity and continue unfettered by guilt?'

Verity looked up at her, at eyes that were surpris-ingly gentle in such a hard face. 'But you have killed...

And now so have I.

And look how keenly we feel it, Sister. This is what separates us from the heretic, the alien. We fight and kill because we must, not for glory or the sport of it. Each death we inflict serves a greater cause.

The Hospitaller nodded. 'Of course, you are right. Forgive me if I seem irresolute, it is just that... these days have been most testing for me.

Miriya extended a hand to the younger woman. 'Look to the Emperor, Sister. Whatever clouds your vision, He will be there.

Verity's gaze turned inward. 'If there was ever a day I needed His guidance, this would be it. There is more that I did not reveal to Dean Venik. Vaun gave me a warning before he fled.

The Battle Sister sneered. 'His threats hold little sway over me.

'No, you misunderstand He spoke of the lord dea-con. Vaun said that Lord LaHayn was guilty of crimes far worse than any he had committed.

'Sedition and lies. Miriya spat out the denial instantly, although with less conviction than she should have.

The witch was trying to sow dissent in your thoughts.

Verity met her gaze. 'I have attended many inter-rogations in my service and seen many confessions and denials. I know lies when I hear them. What I saw from Torris Vaun was the truth, at least from his point of view. He believed it.

'What a heretic believes counts for nothing. said the Battle Sister, 'and were you to speak of this to the dean or anyone else, you might find an interrogator turning his skills to you.

'I have considered that, even entertained the idea that Vaun might have forced some seed of doubt into my mind with his freakish abilities. But all I can think of is that this witch spoke the truth to me while Lord LaHayn did the opposite at the cathe-dral.

Her words brought Miriya up short and her eyes narrowed. 'He is a high priest of the Imperial Church, the voice of the Holy Synod. It is within Lord LaHayn's remit to deny us whatever facts or truths he feels are in our best interests. Despite her reply, Verity could tell that the other woman was not convinced by her own argument.

'Why do that when by his own command he charged us to pursue this man? You heard the dean a moment ago. We are promised help in one breath and denied it in the next. Make no mistake, I want Vaun to pay for his misdeeds - but I cannot escape the fear that there is much more at play in this matter than we know of. There are falsehoods and secrets shrouding us, Miriya. I know you think the same.

For a long moment, Verity was afraid the Battle Sister would give a sharp denial or censure her for such doubts, but instead the Celestian's head bobbed in regretful agreement. 'Aye. Curse me, but aye, I feel it as well. There are too many questions unanswered here, too many things averted from close scrutiny.

Verity sighed. 'I am conflicted, Sister. Where does our duty lie?'

To the church and the G.o.d-Emperor, as it always was. But I see the real question you are asking -does Neva's deacon serve Him as well, or is there another agenda at hand?'

She shuddered. 'I dare not even voice such a thing.

Then prepare yourself. Miriya said darkly, 'for a time may come when you must do more than that. Never forget that the price of vigilance requires we watch those who march under our banner as well as those who stand against it.

'I pray it will not be so. Verity got to her feet, test-ing her injured arm. 'What are we to do now?'

'I believe you said something about the Adminis-tratum?' The Battle Sister raised an eyebrow.

'But the dean said the enforcers-'

The enforcers are nothing more than armour-clad night watchmen. The day I accept the second-hand words of their investigators is the day that Sol burns cold in the sky. She walked away. 'I must attend to the welfare of my squad. In the meantime, I suggest you might use the confusion of the day to visit the hallsof records and look for these facts that may help us find our quarry.' Miriya paused on the threshold. That is, if you truly do wish to remain here?'

"You ask me to defy the dean.

Miriya gave her a quizzical look. 'I have done no such thing. The dean merely said that the enforcers have already checked the records. What harm can come from a second examination? Just to be sure?'

Verity threw her a wooden nod. For better or worse, she suddenly understood that a choice had been made in this small room that could d.a.m.n them both.

With a sharp backhand slap, Vaun sent the medicae scuttling away from him. 'Go on with yourself, now.

I've had enough of your fussing. He tested the places on his face where small cuts were daubed with blobs of healing gel. 'Like a thousand paper cuts. he grimaced, glancing up as Ignis approached him from the creaking gloom of the barge's hold. 'What now?'

The younger man saw the thought forming in his mind and handed him a lit tabac stick. Ignis had been muted since they returned to the boat, ill at ease over Rink's sudden absence. The two of them had been friends, or close enough. 'He's here. said the youth, without preamble. 'Brought his aeronef right down on the deck. He pointed at the steel roof above.

Vaun took a long, hissing drag on the tabac and stood up. That was what all the commotion was about, was it?' Here in the barge's makeshift sickbay, Vaun had heard the clatters and shouts of the crew-men. They were all afraid to be carrying the witch and his cohorts but they had been paid very well. He spat, hard.

'Idiot. Why can't he just be a good lit-tle sn.o.b and play his role?'

Heavy footsteps were descending from the upper deck and Vaun sneered, taking another puff. 'Watch me now. he told Ignis. This is how to handle this kind of man.

The sickbay hatch came open with difficulty, creaking and moaning. The new arrival was in dis-array, his fine robes smeared with soot and a little blood. He found Vaun and shook a fist at him. 'What... What was all that?'

The psyker put on a neutral face. 'All what, milord?'

The other man stamped forward. 'Don't you milord me, Torris. You talked to me about speed, about clean kills and surgical attacks. That...' He pointed in the vague direction of Noroc. That was nothing short of a military strike!'

Vaun threw Ignis an amused, comradely look. What did you expect? A few discreet murders and some swinging from chandeliers in the chapel, perhaps some disquieting deaths for the servants but nothing more?' In a rush, his face darkened and he swept towards the n.o.ble, bunching the cigarillo in his fist. You wanted power? Power has to be taken. Perhaps if your ridiculous legions of spies and soldiers had an ounce of sense, last night might have gone all the way. The church's stranglehold on Neva broken, LaHayn dead along with Emmel-'

'Emmel lives. spat the man. 'You couldn't even give me that!'

'Huh. Vaun paused, considering. 'But he'll be in no state to govern. I don't doubt LaHayn will fin-ish the job for me. He sighed. 'How amusing.

'Amusing!' The dam holding back the n.o.ble-man's rage broke. 'You wreak havoc and leave me exposed, and call it amusing! You crooked witch-freak, you have jeopardised everything-'

Vaun crossed the distance between them in a flash, swatting the man to the floor. The n.o.ble squealed and clutched at his cheek, where a fresh burn wound lay. The only thing in jeopardy is your complacency, baron. For too long you've played your stupid little rivalry with LaHayn like some regicide game, all polite rales and how-do-you-dos. He stamped out the tabac stick. 'It's not a silly diversion any more, Holt. I've taken it up a notch. Now it's a fistfight, a stabbing. A real feud.

'I'm not ready. whimpered the n.o.ble. There will be killing. War.

'Yes. agreed Vaun, 'and when it's done, when Viktor LaHayn is crucified in Judgement Square and you are in the governor's palace signing my pardon for all the good I've done for Neva, on that day you will be thanking me for making it happen. He leaned closer to Baron Sherring's face. 'For freeing you. After a moment he stepped back. 'Get to your 'nef and start making plans. It's time to tell the world what a bad man the dear old deacon is.

The baron got to his feet and shuffled away. 'I... I'll see you in Metis?'

Vaun bowed. 'You can count on it.

Sherring left them, a shadow of the man who had blasted into the room moments earlier. Ignis tapped his lips with a finger. 'Did you push him there to make him fold? In the brain, like?'

'Not a bit of it. There are easier ways to coerce men than to use a mind-touch on them. I just gave him what he wanted.

From above, the whir of airship rotors started up. 'And what was that, then?''Freedom from blame. Sherring has always dreamed of setting fire to that pious old braggart and his holy churches. I did it for him, and now he's free to step up to the fight without the guilt of being the one who started it.

Ignis let out a laugh. 'He... He thinks you're doing this all for him? Ha!'

Vaun nodded. 'He'll find out that's not the way of it. Probably just before he dies.

Verity could see little but the long river of illumi-nation that pooled either side of the walkway bisecting the librarium. The edges of shelves van-ished into the darkness towards the unseen walls of the long bunker.

The morose logistoras who had accompanied her down to this level rattled off a few cursory facts about the place, like a tourist's data-plate. He spoke of how many hundreds of metres they were below the streets of Noroc, of how many more levels were below this one. In the middle dis-tance, the Hospitaller could hear the oiled clanking of huge bra.s.s cogs as one of the room's mobile decks dropped away into the storage tiers. She stopped to watch the empty s.p.a.ce, as big as a scrum-ball pitch. After a moment, another deck clattered up to replace it, a piece of a huge library rolling into position complete with endless racks of papers and bookish little men working the aisles. Automati-cally, a flight of tarnished silver servo-skulls dipped out from the eaves over her head and began patrolling the canyons of books. Whole floors of the librarium were moving with ponderous speed, tiles in a puzzle slate for giant hands.

The logistoras, his ink-stained robe large on his wiry frame, peered at her through augmented eyes. 'You understand, we don't often see representatives of your orders in these halls. He attempted some-thing like a smile. The Sisters Dialogous of the Quill and the Sacred Oath do visit us at times. I can-not recall a Sister Hospitaller in my tenure. His gaze turned inward. 'Perhaps I should begin a statistical check into that datum-'

'Perhaps you should. Verity broke in, 'but in the interim, there are the matters of which I spoke to you?'

'Yes. Crew records for the warship Mercutio. I have not forgotten. He beckoned. 'Follow. The clerk-priest ambled on along the walkway. 'I'm curious as to why the Order of Serenity would require such information.

In the dimness, Verity felt her cheeks go hot. That she had come this far without undue challenge was luck, and with each further step the Sororitas feared her presence here would be found out and declared fraudulent. She floundered for an instant, unsure of how to reply. How would Sister Miriya answer him, she wondered? She'd probably threaten to injure him. I can do better than that.

Verity sucked in a breath of parchment-dry air. 'Is it necessary that you know why I require this datum in order to find it for me?' She pitched her voice in the same lecturing tone she'd heard her Palatine use on wayward novices.

'Well, uh, no. The logistoras blinked bra.s.s lashes. 'I was merely-'

'Curious, yes. But forgive me, I was given to understand that curiosity is not a trait that the Adep-tus Ministorum wishes to cultivate in its librarians. Is it not an article of faith that you may never read from the books you collate, lest you come into con-tact with material of an unmutal nature?'

That weak smile again. 'I have never been tempted, Sister. He threw a nervous look up at the servo-skulls buzzing above them, the thin tubes of lasers hanging from their lipless mouths. To do so would incur the ultimate penalty. He halted at a side gantry and removed a chain-link closing off the section. 'Here we are.

The cogitator will provide you with the datum. He bowed and backed away. 'I hope you will forgive my injudicious use of words earlier. It is just, that with the incident on the night of the Blessing...'

Verity smiled back. *We are all shaken, priest. For-tunately, the Emperor gives His light to guide us.

The logistoras bowed again and left her there with the ancient thinking machine, the bra.s.sy coils and silver-rope filigree inside it ticking and tocking as it churned out the lives of Midshipman Vorgo and the men who had freed Torris Vaun.

There were wide webs of girders, loops of greasy cable and cogworks everywhere inside the librar-ium, almost all of them perpetually in the darkness. The meagre glow of the photon candles about the underground hall never reached into the thick ebon shadows that collected at the edges of the corridors.

Many of the papers held here were so old that they would wilt beneath hard light, and in some sectors the servitors that ministered to the books operated totally on infrared wavelengths. In such a place, the act of concealment was almost welcoming.

Verity's shadow watched her from the hex-frame supporting part of the ferrocrete roof above the Hospitaller's head. The shadow was molten dark-ness, merged there into the black with such skill that even the vigilant skulls with their tiny red eyes looked straight at it and pa.s.sed on, unaware. Verity's shadow watched and listened to her, measuring and considering where the day would take the pretty Sororitas. The certainty began to build in the shadow's thoughts that the woman would not see daylight again and in theinterests of preparation, the shadow readied its ghost pistol to kill her.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Verity pressed her fingers to the place where her brow met her nose and pinched the skin there, trying to ma.s.sage some sort of life back into her face. She stifled a yawn and blinked eyes that were tired and gritty.

On an oaken desk and in neat piles around the cogitator's marble plinth, fan-folds of yellow-brown parchment displayed acres of text in High Gothic, machine dialect and the local Nevaspreche tongue. Many of them sported red tags bearing a tiny rendition of the enforcer shield, along with a text string showing a precinct house number. They represented the places where the investigators had pored over the papers, the point at which they had completed their searches. Verity had read all the same files, up to the red markers and then further back, probing for some connection, some small suspicion of a link between the men who had freed Miriya's prisoner.

She sighed, a heavy dejection threatening to over-come her. There were no timepieces anywhere in sight here inside the librarium, and so she had no idea how long she had been confined in this dark chamber, fingers tracing over page after page beneath the flicker of photon candles. Her lips were dry and she felt a little sick. The libations the med-icae had given her after the incident in the cathedral were fading away, and Verity's body was sending her mixed messages for sleep and for sustenance. Her chest felt tight with the dust of old books. This is a waste of time...' she murmured, 'all for nothing...'

At the sound of her voice, the cogitator's pewter mask-speaker turned on oiled spindles to face the woman.

It was a morose thing, worked out of metal to resemble the aspect of an exalted tech-priest some centuries dead. Bellows and tiny chimes in the throat of the device huffed and rattled, creating a sound that resembled human speech. To find clar-ity, it will be necessary to repeat your request.'

'I wasn't talking to you,' Verity retorted, her frus-tration and weariness snapping in her voice. 'Be quiet.' For the first few hours, the cogitator had taken to breaking the silence at regular intervals by intoning random church-approved axioms designed to reinforce piety and clarity of thought. The Hospitaller had swiftly tired of repeated a.s.ser-tions that 'A closed mind is never open to heresy' and that 'Death is the currency of traitors'.

'By your command. The machine clicked and whirred, turning away again. Through the blank gaps of the mask's mouth and eyes, the Sororitas could make out the dim shape of a mottled gla.s.s...o...b..and the form of turning grey spools within, pierced by thousands of gold filaments. She under-stood little of how the cogitators worked, but found her mind wandering to thoughts of the components that formed it. Had they originated inside some ancient scholar-machine on Terra, one so old and learned that it could not be allowed to cease its ser-vice?

She shook the thought away and frowned at the ancient apparatus, as if it were to blame for her lack of success. The fatigue she felt was making it diffi-cult for her to concentrate, and she fingered the silver rosary at her neck to focus. The lives of Mid-shipman Vorgo and a dozen other deckhands from the warship Mercutio lay strewn about her on paper and punch card, everything from birth certifications to notices of indenture, stipend accounts and disci-plinary warrants.

Verity ran her finger over the raised studs on the index of a man named Priser. It was remarkable how such a small piece of cardboard could so encapsulate the life of a person. She lingered over a blank spot on the index. Just one accidental nick of her fingernail, a dot of spilled ink on the wrong page, and Priser could find himself penniless or declared dead. Such was the monumental inertia of the Imperium's monolithic bureaucracy that the word of these doc.u.ments was law, and these flawed, impossibly old machines were the custodians of it all. It was a sobering thought to imagine all the things - people, ships, perhaps even entire worlds -that could go missing just for the sake of a wrongly placed decimal point.

Verity realised that she had been staring at the same doc.u.ment for several minutes, reading and re-reading the same line of text in Priser's file without actually taking it in. She sighed, and read it again.

It was a reference code to an incident in the man's service record, some weeks before the Mercutio had departed Neva to pick up Miriya's Celestians prior to their rendezvous with the Black Ship. Verity blinked.

She had seen this number before.

The woman took up another file and found the same index point. The code was there as well. It was the same in a third, in a fourth. All of them, includ-ing Vorgo, sported the same numerical reference, and it lay in place below the red tags placed by the enforcers. A rush of sudden excitement flooded Ver-ity, making her giddy. She tapped the front of the cogitator to attract its attention.

This code. she said, showing the eyeless mask the paperwork. What does it refer to?'

Clockwork twittered and clicked. 'Your forbear-ance. Your answer will attend forthwith.' After a fewmoments, the device made a sucking noise and a vacuum tube in its chest opened, revealing a coiled parchment. 'Sacrifice is the most n.o.ble worship.

She read quickly. The papers were a mimeo-graphed copy of a report from the Naval attache's office, explaining how a transport tender taking some of the Mercutio's crew on liberty to Noroc had been diverted by a malfunction. The shuttle had been forced to put down in the city-state of Metis and eventually returned to orbit with its pa.s.sengers intact a day later. There were one or two additional names, but without exception, every man who had a hand in Vaun's escape had been on that transport. Verity looked for the crewmen who had been aboard but hadn't joined Vorgo and the others. None of them were still alive. On a ship as large as the Mercutio, deaths by misadventure and accident were a daily occurrence, but the pattern made the Sister's skin crawl. The others had died before the rendezvous.

Gathering up her data-slate, Verity made swift notes with an electroquill. She thought about Vorgo, there in the confinement cell, screaming for a daughter that he never had, and reached for his papers.

Her eyes narrowed. According to the Naval renu-mary, Vorgo and his shipmates had been given their usual stipend of Imperial scrip to spend during their leave in Noroc - but not a single note of it had been exchanged. That seemed impossible. Metis was notorious for taverns and salacious diversions. Any visiting swabbie with a pocket full of unspent pay would return to ship with nothing to show for it but a hangover and some interesting social diseases.

'What happened in Metis?' Verity asked the ques-tion to the air, and suddenly she was very, very awake.

Her shadow c.o.c.ked its head and wondered at the words the young woman spoke. It had already noted and logged the paperwork she had been inter-ested in for later evaluation by its master. Verity's body language had changed radically in the last few moments. Before, she seemed to be on the verge of physical exhaustion, but now the shadow could see the spark of adrenaline in her eyes, could almost smell it in the oily air.

The killer weighed this new information carefully, briefly entertaining the idea of terminating the girl now, but years of servitude in Neva's a.s.sa.s.sin wars had left an indelible mark on the shadow. Haste was the enemy of the invisible murder. It was only cer-tainty that made the single shot, the killing blow perfect. The shadow elected to wait a little longer. Another figure was within the target envelope, and it might become necessary to end more than just the girl's life.

The ghost pistol moved a few degrees. The age and origin of the killer's weapon was unknown. Some had said it was of xenos manufacture, others that it dated back to the black period known as the Dark Age of Technology. The shadow liked it for its silence. Inside the non-reflective matter of the breech, single dart-shaped projectiles nestled and waited. These were made by hand, crafted by sight-less tech-priests specially blinded for just that purpose. When fired, they left the ghost pistol with no ejecta, no sound or report of fire. Not even the whispering air about the flying darts could give away their pa.s.sage, and the material they and the gun were made from was utterly energy-inert. Any senses, from an auspex to a psyker's witchsight, could not see it.

There were many darts in the gun, but one would be enough.