The Beast Arises

The sky over the Fields had no obstructions. There were very few other locations in the Imperial Palace where so much of the firmament was visible, on those rare occasions that the smog of Terra cleared away. This evening, the stars were out.

They were eclipsed by the fortress. It rode the heavens with brute arrogance, and made a mockery of the Emperor’s sacred home. Haas stared at the planetoid. Her heart swelled with a pure, sanctifying hatred.

She had her answer. She was going. She would tear the laughter from the throats of the orks. Even if she had to do it herself, she would bring darkness to that accursed moon.

Eleven

Terra — the Imperial Palace

They stood on the second cloister level of the Daylight Wall. Below them was the entrance to the chapel ordinary. The spaces between the columns were narrow, the vaults themselves masked by stained glass. Concealment was easy. The view below was clear.

‘Every day?’ Machtannin said.

‘We haven’t had long enough to tell if this is a habit of long standing. But since we began observations, yes.’

Machtannin looked to the west, to the corner and the northward arm of the cloister. The lower colonnade had wider spaces. The walk from the chapel ordinary to the Great Chamber would take the target down that route. Machtannin would have several brief opportunities for a shot. One would be enough.

There was some pedestrian traffic in the cloister’s lower level. Enough for witnesses, not enough for a hindrance. The upper gallery was deserted. No one had gone through in the last twenty-four hours, and Veritus had ensured privacy by locking the doors at both ends. Good.

‘Well?’ Veritus asked.

Machtannin nodded. ‘Making the kill and retreating should be simple enough.’ He stepped away from the vault, into the deeper shadows of the gallery’s exterior wall. ‘So we’re doing this.’

‘We don’t have the luxury of prevarication,’ Veritus said. ‘Time is limited and precious.’

‘But you aren’t sure he was behind the attempt on your life. That might have been Wienand’s move.’

‘I’m aware of that. I know this is not ideal. But it must be done. Assume that Grand Master Vangorich is not responsible for the attempt. He and Wienand are allies. That much is clear.’

‘Even so, the repercussions…’

‘We can weather them.’

‘Are we that sure of our positions?’

‘Not as sure as I would like to be,’ Veritus admitted. ‘But Vangorich is too dangerous. He is undisputed as Grand Master. The Officio Assassinorum has a unity of leadership and purpose that makes it too grave a threat to ignore. Decapitated, it will stagger before finding a new leader, and there may be internal strife.’

‘Making it easier to control.’

‘Exactly.’

Machtannin sighed.

‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘there are times when it seems we are doing the work of the Ruinous Powers for them.’

Veritus closed on the younger man. The bulk of his power armour cast the other inquisitor into deeper shadow. ‘You will never utter those words again,’ he hissed.

Machtannin tensed. Veritus waited. They both knew there would be no violence here. Not because they must not draw attention to their location. Not because Veritus had the arsenal to overcome Machtannin’s greater speed. But because of the power of Veritus’ moral authority. And because their calling was too important.

‘Apologies,’ Machtannin said. ‘I won’t forget myself again.’

Veritus stepped back, satisfied. ‘I wish for a more straightforward path too,’ he said. ‘But remember that we have the purity of true purpose.’

Machtannin nodded. ‘I do.’

‘Good.’ He glanced back in the direction of the north cloister. ‘Make sure there are witnesses,’ he said, ‘and shoot when I’m walking with him. We need that doubt about whether he was the target.’ That was why he had insisted Machtannin use a sniper rifle. The attack had to look like a second attempt on his life.

‘In other words, you want me to miss.’

‘See that you don’t.’

He stopped at the chapel. He maintained the practice, forced to keep going through the steps of a pointless dance. The High Lords still had him watched, he was sure, if only as a matter of course. He doubted they were interested in the reports. Not now. There was only the Proletarian Crusade now, and the hopes that went with it. Juskina Tull had most of her peers so invested in her scheme, they needed it to work as badly as she did.

We all need it to work, Vangorich thought. Even those who don’t believe it will.

He performed his theatre of worship, and reflected on how badly he had failed the true object of his devotion. He mouthed what observers would think was a prayer. It was a whisper of apology to the Imperium.

When he left the Chapel, Veritus was coming down the colonnade. The inquisitor hailed him, and Vangorich waited.

‘We’re making this into a habit,’ he said when Veritus caught up.

‘A coincidence is not a habit.’