‘I learned that dealing with children years ago. It’s a technique that works on the old and cranky too.’
Curth laughed. ‘And Zweil’s ancient. He’s got all of… what, five years on you?’
‘Age is a state of mind, Ana,’ Dorden replied with pretend hauteur. ‘Anyway, thank you. I have to go.’
She followed him back into the examination room.
‘Doctor Curth is going to finish up for me,’ Dorden told the old priest.
‘Is she?’ asked Zweil suspiciously. ‘She’s not a real medicae, you know. She hasn’t got any qualifications. Gaunt just lets her hang around because she’s pretty.’
‘I’m sure that’s exactly right, father,’ said Curth, sitting down at the desk.
‘Your hands better not be cold,’ Zweil warned her.
‘Why?’ asked Curth. ‘All I’m doing is making notes.’
‘Damn!’ said Zweil.
Sniggering and shaking his head, Dorden let himself out of the room and joined the human traffic in the hallway. His amusement was superficial. An ugly mood had settled on him that was as cold and sudden as the snowstorm outside.
As he approached the entrance to the temple house, he saw Gol Kolea in the crowd. The big Verghastite major was smiling.
‘Afternoon, doctor.’
‘Gol.’
‘Active Pending, eh?’
‘You look delighted.’
Kolea nodded.
‘Could be the posting we’ve been waiting for,’ he said.
‘You think so?’
‘Orders had to come through sooner or later.’
Dorden nodded.
‘To be frank, major, if it is our orders coming through, and we’re being posted back to the front, that hardly fills me with delight.’
‘We’re going gak-happy here, Doc. The Ghosts need a tour. It’s overdue,’ said Kolea.
‘You seem to forget, major, that when we go to war, people die. That’s hardly something to look forward to.’
They went into the temple house. The snow beat against the tall, narrow windows. The senior staff were finding places to sit. All the company commanders had assembled, or were represented by adjutants or juniors. Dorden saw Kolosim, Obel, Raglon, Sloman, Arcuda, Domor, Theiss and Baskevyl, as well as Elam and Seley, who had been promoted to the commands of H and L companies respectively to replace men lost at Hinzerhaus. He could also see Mkoll, the master of scouts. Bonin was the representative for B Company in Rawne’s absence, Daur’s adjutant Mohr for G Company, and a very nervous-looking Dalin Criid for Meryn’s Company E.
‘Take your seats. Let’s have you!’ Commissar Ludd called out, climbing onto the stage. ‘That’s enough, come on!’
‘A little order and attention, please, gentlemen!’ Baskevyl called, backing the young commissar up. The noise level dropped appreciably.
‘Thank you,’ said Baskevyl. ‘Door, please, Shoggy.’
Shoggy Domor got out of his seat to close the temple door, but Hark walked in and shut the door behind him. Hark marched to the front, all eyes following him. Dorden noticed that at some point during the assembly, Eszrah ap Niht had slipped into the temple and was standing at the back in the shadows.
‘What’s going on, Hark?’ Baskevyl asked.
‘Have we got marching orders?’ Kolosim added. ‘We’ve got marching orders, haven’t we?’
There was a general murmur.
Hark cleared his throat. Dorden realised that he didn’t like the look on Hark’s face, and it wasn’t for the reasons he had expected.
‘As of twenty-seven minutes ago,’ Hark began, ‘Aarlem Fortress is on security lockdown.’
Everybody started talking.
‘Shut up and listen!’ Hark shouted. ‘Security condition two has been imposed on this station, and on Balopolis and the Oligarchy. The PDF is locking all orbital links, and transit is forbidden. An advisory has been issued.’
‘What the feth?’ Kolea grumbled.
‘There was a serious incident this afternoon in the Oligarchy. All I know is that Section was attacked by forces unknown.’
‘An attack?’ echoed Obel. ‘Are you kidding? Who attacks Balhaut?’
‘Somebody,’ said Hark. ‘This is serious. We are to remain on base until further notice. Nobody goes off-site.’
‘On whose orders?’ Baskevyl asked.
‘Section’s, and it’s been ratified by Guard Command. Beltayn?’
‘Yes, commissar?’
‘Consult the day-book and check with the other adjutants. I want a list of all personnel off-site as of right now.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Beltayn nodded.
Hark gestured to Kolea, who had quietly raised a hand.
‘Yes, major?’
Kolea breathed a sort of sigh, and then said, ‘What’s the scale of this? Has the Archenemy mounted a counter-offensive? Have they punched right through?’
‘We’d know about it,’ said Mkoll.
Kolea looked over at the chief scout.
‘However optimistically you want to place the Crusade front line on the star-maps,’ Mkoll said, ‘Balhaut is over a sector’s distance from the fight zone. If an enemy counter-offensive had pushed through, we’d have heard about it months ago.’
‘But a long, deep-warp jump? A bounding strike into our heartland?’
‘Doesn’t feel like that, Gol,’ said Mkoll.
‘I agree with the chief,’ said Hark, ‘but that’s not important. It isn’t our business to figure this out. Orders are simple. We confine ourselves to base and lock down. No one leaves. No one is unaccounted for. All Guard strengths on the surface are to secure their base facilities and stand ready for deployment.’
Bonin looked up at the ceiling.
‘I hear incoming,’ he said. ‘Engines.’
The steadily increasing throb of turbofan motors drew them out into the snow. Six flying machines, running nose to tail in a line, were hacking in from the city, through the snowstorm, their running lights blinking. They came in low, and circled Aarlem Fortress. The lead bird banked and began to settle towards the open expanse of the lamp-lit quad.
The six machines were Valkyrie gunships. They blew up mini blizzards with their jetwash as they settled side by side across the quad.
‘Oh feth,’ murmured Hark. ‘Would somebody like to tell me what they’re doing here?’
Baskevyl looked at Hark, and the commissar pointed.
On the side of each Valkyrie, plainly visible despite the snow, was the rosette crest of the Inquisition.
FOURTEEN
The House of Doctor Death
In the early evening, when his day’s work was done, and he was in the scrub room washing the instruments of his trade, Doctor Kolding thought he heard a vehicle pass by on the street outside.
This seemed unlikely, for many reasons. It was snowing heavily, and that kept the traffic light, particularly in the hilly streets of Old Side. More specifically, no one ever drove up or down Kepeler Place unless they were lost, which was infrequent to say the least, or they were the ambulance men from the Civic Office, who brought him his work, and they made their deliveries before ten each morning.
Nevertheless, he’d heard the sound of a motor vehicle passing by. It had been a bronchial chuckle, rounded out by the acoustic muffle of the snow lining the otherwise empty street: the ugly engine-cough of a badly maintained truck or van ailing in the freezing conditions.
Doctor Kolding put the last of the stainless steel tools back on the cart’s red cloth, covered them, and dried his hands. He let the tap run to rinse away the last of the brown stains in the enamel sink, and his mind returned to the sound. Perhaps it was the ambulance men. Sometimes, rarely, the Civic Office sent rush-jobs up at unsocial hours, outside the timetable of his usual casework deliveries. That would be it, he decided. It was the ambulance men, bringing him an urgent piece of work.