resplendently gowned cousin, Lord Anko. Commissar Kowle was diplomatically greeting Lords Gavunda and Nompherenti. Servants and house retainers thronged the place, running messages, fetching silver platters of refreshments, or simply guarding their noble masters with shrouded sidearms.
A gong sounded four strokes. The main gilt shutter at the east side of the room slid up into the ceiling with a hiss and Master Legislator Anophy limped into the chamber, his opalescent robes glinting in the yellow light, his beribboned tricorn nodding with each heavy shuffle he took across the embroidered carpet. He was using the long, golden sceptre of his office as a stick. Child pages held his train and carried his gem-encrusted vox/pict drone and Book of Hive-law before him on tasselled cushions.
Anophy reached his place. He adjusted the silver arm of the vox-phone and spoke. “Noble houses, your careful attention.” All looked round and quickly took their places. Kowle, Sturm and the other military men withdrew to one side.
Noble Chass’ seat was vacant.
Anophy thumbed through the data on a slate held up by one of his pages and he set a palsy-trembling finger to his moist lips.
“A matter to vote. In all precision, before these houses, the ratification of the defence plans our noble friend, General Noches Sturm, has drawn up. The matter need not be lengthened further by discourse. The Hive, Emperor grant it wealth and longevity, awaits.”
Six assent runes, fizzling holograms, lit the air above Anophy. Rodyn and Piidestro houses voted against with dark-tinged, threatening lights.
“Carried,” said Anophy simply. The Privy Council began chattering and moving again.
A shutter of herring-bone steel to the west side of the chamber slid open and Noble Chass, accompanied by his bodyguard, entered the chamber. An awkward hush fell. It remained in place as Chass descended the steps, crossed the chamber and took his appointed seat. Once they had folded his great, silk train over the throne back, his bodyguard and servants stood away.
Chass gazed around the circular hall. Several of his fellow nobles did not meet his gaze.
“You have voted. I was not present.”
“You were summoned,” Lord Anko said. “If you miss the given time, your vote is forfeit.”
“You know the rules, noble lord,” wheezed Anophy.
“I know when I have been… excluded.”
“Come now!” Anophy said. “There is no exclusion in the upper parliament of Vervunhive. Given the extraordinary circumstances of this situation, I will allow you to vote now.”
Chass looked around again, very conscious of the way Lord Croe would not look at him.
“I see the matter has been voted six to two. My vote, whichever way I meant to cast it, would be useless now.”
“Cast it anyway, brother lord,” gurgled Gavunda through the silver-inlaid, wire-box augmentor that covered his mouth like an ornate, crouching spider.
Chass shook his head. “I spoil my vote. There is no point to it.”
A group of figures was entering through the east hatch. Commissar Tarrian was trying to delay them, but they pushed past. It was Gaunt, Grizmund, Nash and their senior officers.
“I can scarce believe your guile, Sturm,” Nash spat, facing the other general. Gilbear moved forward to confront the Roane commander, but Sturm held him back with a curt snap of his fingers.
Gaunt crossed directly to the Master Legislator’s place and took the data-slate from the hands of the surprised page. He reviewed it.
“So, it’s true,” he said, looking up at Sturm and Marshal Croe.
“General Sturm’s strategic suggestions have been agreed and ratified by the Upper Council,” Vice Marshal Anko said smoothly. “And I strongly suggest you, and the other off- world commanders with you, show some order of respect and courtesy to the workings and customs of this high parliament. We will not have our ancient traditions flouted by—”
“You’re all fools,” Gaunt said carelessly, setting the slate down and turning away, “if you care more for ceremonial traditions than life. You’ve made a serious error here.”
“You’ve killed this hive and all of us with it!” Nash snapped, bristling with fury. Gaunt took the big Roane general by the shoulder and moved him away from confrontation.
“I am surprised at you, marshal,” Grizmund said, his stiff anger just held in check, like an attack dog on a choke chain, as he looked at Croe. “From our meetings, I’d believed your grasp of tactics was better than this.”
Marshal Croe got up. “I’m sorry at your unhappiness, General Grizmund. But General Sturm’s plan seems sound to me. I have the hive to think of. And Commissar Kowle, who has—let’s be fair—actually encountered our foe, concurs.”
Grizmund shook his head sadly.
“What would
There was a lot of shouting and protesting, all of it directed at Chass.
“Lord Chass has a right to know!” Ibram Gaunt’s clear, hard voice cut the shouting away. Gaunt turned to face the nobleman. “After due observation, Generals Nash, Grizmund and I would have opened the south-west gates and launched armour to meet them, infantry behind. A flanking gesture to front them outside of the Wall rather than give up all we have.”
“Would that have worked?” Chass asked.
“We’ll never know,” Gaunt replied. “But we do know this: if we wait until they reach the Wall, where do we have to fall back to after that?
“Nowhere.”
Noble Chass wanted to question further, but the Privy Council dissolved in uproar and Gaunt marched out, closely followed by the furious Grizmund and Nash.
* * * * *
“Commissar? Commissar-colonel?” In the crowded promenade hall outside the Privy Council, where parliamentary and house aides thronged back and forth with guilders and house ordinary delegates, Gaunt paused and turned. A tall, grim-looking man in ornate body armour was pushing through the crowds after him, a satin-cloth covering the weapon in his right hand. Gaunt sent his staff ahead with the other generals and turned to face the man. A household bodyguard, he was sure.
The man approached and made a dutiful salute. “I am Rudrec, lifeguard of his excellency Lord Chass of Noble House Chass. My lord requests a meeting with you at your earliest convenience.”
The man handed Gaunt a small token-seal, with the Imperial eagle on one side and the Chass coat-of-arms on the other.
“With this, you may be admitted to House Chass at all times. My lord will await.”
