sir.’
Ishaq looked up to meet the speaker’s dark-ringed eyes. He recognised the old man immediately.
‘You’re the astropath. The astropath for the Occuli Imperator.’
‘Guilty,’ the old man performed a strangely courtly bow, ‘as charged.’ He gestured to the chair. ‘Absolom Cartik at your service. May I sit?’
Ishaq’s grunt passed as a yes. The elder seemed nervous in the Cellar, just as he had last time Ishaq saw him in here. ‘I’ve not seen you in a couple of weeks. There was talk you’d be forsaking this place for good.’
‘I do not fit in well, but at times, the quiet gets to me. I feel the need to be around other people.’ Cartik gestured to the walls. ‘The battle,’ he swallowed. ‘They always get to me.’
‘I know that feeling. Sorry, but I’m not exactly wonderful company right now,’ Ishaq said.
The astropath was watching him with unwavering focus. ‘Your thoughts are very loud.’
All the blood drained from Kadeen’s face. ‘You’re reading my mind?’ He stood up fast enough to make himself dizzy. ‘Is that legal?’
The astropath waved his concerns aside. ‘I could never read a mind as you would understand it. Suffice to say, you are broadcasting your emotion with great intensity. Just as someone might see you laugh or cry, knowing your thoughts from your face, I can see the distress in your mind. No details, but it is very... loud,’ he finished lamely.
‘I don’t need this right now. I really don’t.’
‘I meant no offence.’
Ishaq took his seat again. The ship shook under enemy fire – enough to spill people’s drinks. Most pretended to ignore it. A few faked laughter, as if it were all part of the adventure.
‘Might I ask if you have any more masterpieces in the making?’ the old man asked. Ishaq glanced at his picter rod.
‘I’m not sure. Maybe. Look, I have to go.’ He squeezed his eyes shut, but everything looked the same when he opened them again. ‘I don’t want to be around anyone after all. And I’m not going to drink this, so consider it a gift.’
He slid the glass across the table. As Cartik took it, the astropath’s finger brushed the imagist’s knuckles. The elder jumped if kicked, staring with wide eyes. He looked as suddenly unwell as Ishaq felt.
‘By the Throneworld...’ he stammered. ‘Wh-what have you seen?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all. Goodbye.’
Absolom Cartik’s elderly claw gripped onto the younger man’s wrist with all the tenacity of a raptor talon. ‘Where. Was. This.’
‘I didn’t see anything, you crazy old bastard.’
Their eyes met. ‘You wish to answer the question,’ Cartik said softly.
‘I saw it on board the ship.’
‘Where?’
‘The monastic deck.’
‘And you made recorded images? Evidence of what you saw?’
‘Yes.’
Cartik released the man’s wrist. ‘Come with me, please.’
‘What? No chance.’
‘Come with me. What you have seen must be shown to the Occuli Imperator. If you refuse, I can guarantee you only one thing: Custodian Aquillon will kill you for attempting to keep this a secret. He will kill
The emergency lighting dimmed back into life. Complaints rang out across the Cellar, and the vessel around them shivered as its engines flared open again. They were returning to the battle.
‘I’ll... come with you.’
Absolom Cartik smiled. He was an ugly man – and age hadn’t helped change that fact – but he wore the kind of paternal, assured smile that stayed in a family’s memory for many years.
‘Yes,’ the old man said. ‘I thought you might.’
TWENTY-EIGHT
Aftermath
Blood is Life
An Unusual Welcome
He found Dagotal after the battle.
First, he came across his brother’s jetbike, powerless and half-buried in the Urgall dirt. Not crashed. Abandoned. Abandoned when the change took place, abandoned in favour of running and killing with one’s own claws.
He moved on, stepping over the bodies of slain Raven Guard, their white Legion symbol tarnished by mud or split by savage weapons. A warrior nearby still lived, his breath straining from a broken mouth grille. With a reaching claw, Argel Tal enclosed the Raven Guard’s neck, squeezing the soft armour there and ending the warrior’s life with the popping crackle of destroyed vertebrae.
