and was covered by a dedicated refractor shield. They were about a kilometre up. Below, the vast sprawl of Vervunhive spread out to the distant bulk of the Curtain Wall. Above them rose the peak of the Spine, glossed in ice, overarched by the huge bowl of the crackling Shield.
The terrace was an ornamental cybernetic garden. Mechanical leaf-forms grew and sprouted in the ordered beds, and bionic vines self-replicated in zigzag patterns of branches to form a dwarf orchard. Metal bees and delicate paper-winged butterflies whirred through the silvery stems and iron branches. Oil-ripe fruit, black like sloes, swung from blossom-joints on the swaying mechanical- tree limbs.
Lord Heymlik Chass, dressed in a gardener’s robes, slight marks of oil-sap on his cuffs and apron, moved down the rows of artificial plants, dead-heading brass-petalled flowerheads with a pair of laser secateurs and pruning back the sprays of aluminium roses.
He looked up as his daughter led the commissar over.
“I was hoping you would come,” Lord Chass said.
“I was delayed by events,” Gaunt said.
“Of course.” Chass nodded and gazed out at the south Curtain for a moment. “A bad night. Your men… survived?”
“Most of them. War is war.”
“I was informed of your actions at Hass West. Vervunhive owes you already, commissar.”
Gaunt shrugged. He looked around the metal garden.
“I have never seen anything like this,” he said honestly.
“A private indulgence. House Chass built its success on servitors, cogitators and mechanical development. I make working machines for the Imperium. It pleases me to let them evolve in natural forms here, with no purpose other than their own life.”
Merity stood back from the pair. “I’ll leave you alone, then,” she said.
Chass nodded and the girl stalked away between the wire- vines and the tin blooms.
“You have a fine daughter, lord.”
“Yes, I have. My heir. No sons. She has a gift for mechanical structures that quite dazzles me. She will lead House Chass into the next century.”
He paused, snicked a rusting flowerhead off into his waist- slung sack and sighed. “If there is a next century for Vervunhive.”
“This war will be won by the Imperial force, lord. I have no doubt.”
Chass smiled round at the commissar. “Spoken like a true political animal, Commissar Gaunt.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a platitude.”
“Nor did I take it as one. But you are a political animal, aren’t you, Gaunt?”
“I am a colonel of the Imperial Guard. A warrior for the almighty Emperor, praise His name. My politics extend as far as raising troop morale, no further.”
Chass nodded. “Walk with me,” he said.
They moved through a grove of platinum trees heavy with brass oranges. Frills of wire-lace creepers were soldered to the burnished trunks. Beyond the grove, crossing iron lawns that creaked under their footsteps, they walked down a row of bushes with broad, inlaid leaves of soft bronze.
“I suppose my daughter has been bending your ear with warnings about my liberal ways?”
“You are correct, lord.”
Chass laughed. “She is hugely protective of me. She thinks I’m vulnerable.”
“She said as much.”
“Indeed. Let me show you this.” Chass led Gaunt into a maze of hedges. The hedgerows crackled with energised life, like veils of illusions.
“Fractal topiary,” Chass said proudly. “Mathematical structures generated by the stem-forms of the cogitators planted here.”
“It is a wonder.”
Lord Chass looked around at Gaunt. “It leaves you cold, doesn’t it, Gaunt?”
“Cold is too strong a word. It leaves me… puzzled. Why am I here?”
“You are an unusual officer, Gaunt. I have studied your record files carefully.”
“So have the housemaids,” Gaunt said.
Chass snorted, taking a cropping wand from his belt. He began to use it to shape the glowing, fractal hedges nearby. “For different reasons, I assure you. The maids want husbands. I want friends. Your record shows me that you are a surprisingly moral creature.”
“Does it?” Gaunt watched the noble trim the light-buds of the bush, disinclined to speak further.
“True to the Imperial Cause, to the crusade, but not always true to your direct superiors when those motives clash. With Dravere on Menazoid Epsilon, for example. With our own General Sturm on Voltemand. You seek your own way, and like a true commissar you are never negligent in punishing those of your own side who counter the common good.”
Gaunt looked out across the vast hive below them. “Another sentence or two and you’ll be speaking treason, Lord Chass.”
“And who will hear me? A man who roots out treason professionally? If I speak treason, Gaunt, you can kill me here.”
“I hope we can avoid that, lord,” Gaunt said quietly.
“So do I. From the incident in the Privy Council the other day, I understand you do not agree with General Sturm’s tactical plan?”
Gaunt’s measured nod spoke for him.
“We have something in common then. I don’t agree with House Sondar’s leadership either. Sondar controls Croe and Anko is its lapdog. They will lead us to annihilation.”
“Such machinations are far above me, Lord Chass,” Gaunt pointed out diplomatically.
Chass wanded the hedge again. He was forming a perfect Imperial eagle from the blister-tendrils of light. “But we are both affected. Bad policy and bad leadership will destroy this hive. You and I will suffer then.”
Gaunt cleared his throat. “With respect, is there a point to this, Lord Chass?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. I wanted to speak with you, Gaunt, get the measure of you. I wanted to understand your inner mind and see if there was any kindred flame there. I have a great responsibility to Vervunhive, greater than the leadership of this noble house. You wouldn’t understand and I’m not about to explain it. Trust me.”
Gaunt said nothing.
“I will preserve the life of this hive to my dying breath—and beyond it if necessary. I need to know who I can count on. You may go now. I will send for you again in time.
