half-paying attention to the maintenance servitors dragging the slain slave away for incineration.
‘I spoke with Cyrene,’ he said, ‘several days ago.’
‘So I heard. I’ve been thinking of meeting with her myself. You don’t find her a calming influence?’
‘She sees too much,’ said Argel Tal.
‘How ironic.’
‘I’m serious,’ the captain said. ‘She asked if I was angry with the Emperor. How am I supposed to answer that?’
Torgal’s glance took in the rest of Seventh Company’s practice chamber. The battle-brothers training elsewhere knew well enough to give their leader a respectful space when his humours were unbalanced. Wooden staves clacked against each other; fist fighting spars played out to the sound of meaty thumps; powered force cages muted the sounds of clashing blades within. He turned back to the captain.
‘You could answer it with the truth.’
Argel Tal shook his head. ‘The truth feels foul on the tongue. I won’t speak it.’
‘Others will speak it, brother.’
‘Others? Like you?’
Torgal shrugged a bare shoulder. ‘I am not ashamed to be angry, Argel Tal. We were wronged, and we’ve been walking the wrong path.’
Argel Tal stretched, working out the stiffness in his shoulder muscles. He took a moment to compose his reply. Torgal was a loudmouth, and he knew whatever he said would be carried to the rest of the company, perhaps even across to the rest of the Serrated Sun.
‘There’s more to this than whether the Emperor wronged us or not. We are a Legion founded on faith, and we find ourselves faithless. Anger is natural, but it is no answer. I will wait for the primarch to return to us, and I will hear his wisdom before I decide my path.’
Torgal couldn’t help but smile. ‘Listen to yourself. Are you sure you don’t want to carry a crozius? I’m sure Erebus would consider training you again. I’ve heard him express his regret to Xaphen more than once.’
‘You are an insidious presence in my life, brother.’ The captain’s scowl darkened his otherwise handsome features. His eyes were the blue of Colchisian summer skies, and his face – unscarred like so many of his brethren – still showed echoes of the human he might have been.
‘That ship sailed a long time ago,’ the captain said. ‘I made my choice, and the First Chaplain made his.’
‘But–’
‘Enough, Torgal. Old wounds can still ache. Has there been word of the primarch’s return?’
Torgal regarded Argel Tal closely, as if seeking something hidden in his eyes. ‘Not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask?’
‘You know why. You’ve not heard anything from the Chaplain gatherings?’
Torgal shook his head. ‘They’re bound by oaths of secrecy that a few innocent questions won’t break. Have you spoken with Xaphen?’
‘Many times, and he reveals little. Erebus has the primarch’s ear, and delivers Aurelian’s words down to the warrior-priests at their conclaves. Xaphen promises we’ll be enlightened soon. The primarch’s seclusion will be a matter of weeks, not months.’
‘Do you believe that?’ Torgal asked.
Argel Tal laughed, the sound bitter and short. ‘Knowing what to believe is the greatest threat we face.’
Cyrene was asleep the next time she received a worthwhile visitor. The sound of her door sliding open roused her to a layer of rest slightly above unconsciousness.
‘Go away, Kale. I’m not hungry.’ She rolled over and covered her head with the ungenerous pillow. Evidently the monkish, scarce comforts of the Legion’s warriors extended to their servants, as well.
‘Kale?’ asked a deep, resonant voice.
Cyrene removed the pillow. Coppery saliva tingled under her tongue, and her heart beat a touch faster.
‘Hello?’ she called.
‘Who is Kale?’ the voice asked.
Cyrene sat up, her blind eyes flicking left and right in futile instinct. ‘Kale is the servitor that brings me my meals.’
‘You named your servitor?’
‘It was the name of a meat vendor in the Tophet Plaza. He was lynched for selling dog meat instead of lamb, and sentenced to penance for his deceit.’
‘I see. Appropriate, then.’
The stranger moved around the cell with the light whisper of robes. Cyrene could feel the change in the air – the newcomer was a hulking figure, imposing beyond her blindness.
‘Who are you?’ she asked.
‘I thought you would recognise my voice. It is Xaphen.’
‘Oh. Angels sound very similar to me. All of your voices are so low. Hello, Chaplain.’
