Elodie folded up the papers and put them away.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Criid.
‘Yes. Yes, I’m fine.’
‘You look pale. I’ve said too much.’
‘No.’
‘You haven’t really thought about any of this, have you?’ asked Criid.
‘I thought I had. It seems I hadn’t.’
‘Then you’d better,’ said Criid. ‘He’s a soldier. Soldiers die.’
‘We all die,’ said Elodie.
‘Yes,’ Criid nodded. ‘But not as fast as soldiers.’
Gaunt walked up the steps towards the entrance of the barracks hall. Smog and approaching evening had combined to create a gloom like twilight. The hall windows shone with lamplight.
Beltayn was waiting for him in the entrance way.
‘Something’s awry,’ said Gaunt.
‘It’s a band, sir,’ said Beltayn.
‘I can hear what it is, I just couldn’t for the life of me explain why.’
‘I’ll leave that pleasure to Major Baskevyl, sir,’ said the adjutant.
‘Anything else?’ asked Gaunt.
‘The new seniors are keen to meet you.’
‘Of course. You explained that I was unavoidably detained?’
‘I did, sir. Some took it better than others.’
‘Anything else?’ asked Gaunt.
‘Transfers behind just before midnight local,’ said Beltayn. He handed Gaunt a data-slate. ‘Our transport has been confirmed as the Highness Ser Armaduke. It’s a frigate, Tempest-class. Whatever that means.’
‘So the Fleet couldn’t spare a battle cruiser after all.’
‘No, sir. Actually, the Fleet didn’t spare this either. As I understand it, the Highness Ser Armaduke was substantially damaged during the Khulan Wars and has been in the depot reserve for the last twenty-seven years. It’s had what I’ve been told is called “modification refit”, but its performance still doesn’t allow it to be fully Fleet certified.’
‘You’re saying it’s a piece of scrap that would otherwise have gone to the breakers?’
‘I’m not saying that, sir,’ said Beltayn, ‘because I know nothing about the Navy or shiftship doings. I’m just a common lasman, sir.’
Gaunt looked at the documents on the slate.
‘Oh, the faith they show in us. Giving us a ship they don’t mind losing because they’re pretty certain it’s going to be lost.’
‘I’ll remember to keep that insight to myself, shall I?’ asked Beltayn.
‘Yes, please,’ said Gaunt handing the slate back. ‘Anything else?’
‘No, sir.’
Gaunt gestured up in the direction of the double-headed eagle that was perched on the head of a large statue of Saint Kiodrus nearby. The eagle ruffled its wings and shuffled on its marble perch.
‘Not even that?’
‘Doesn’t belong to me, sir,’ said Beltayn, ‘and I didn’t put it there.’
Gaunt went into the hall. Long, candle-lit tables were set for dinner, but the assembled guests were generally standing, talking in groups, drinks in their hands. Servitors whirred through the press. Regimental colours – Tanith, Verghastite and Belladon – were in abundant display. On a low stage to one side, the band was playing vigorously.
‘Where have you been?’ asked Blenner, intercepting him almost at once.
‘Oh, you know, colonel-ing and stuff,’ said Gaunt.
Blenner had a drink in his hand.
‘I hate bashes like this,’ he said, leaning close to Gaunt so he could whisper and still be heard over the band.
‘The band wasn’t your idea, was it?’ asked Gaunt.
‘Why would you think that?’ asked Blenner, looking wounded.
‘I don’t know,’ said Gaunt. ‘There’s something about it that feels like an elaborate practical joke.’
‘Oh, thank you,’ said Blenner. He took what appeared to be a pill from his stormcoat pocket and knocked it back with a sip of amasec. He saw Gaunt looking at him.
‘What?’ he said. ‘I’ve got a headache.’
Kolea was approaching with several officers Gaunt didn’t recognise.
‘Commander,’ said Kolea, ‘it’s my honour to introduce the senior officers of the new Verghastite influx. Major Pasha Petrushkevskaya and Captain Ornella Zhukova.’
Gaunt saluted them both.
‘It’s my shame,’ he said, ‘that I wasn’t here to greet you. You’ve come a long way and you’re contributing a great deal.’
‘We understand,’ said Petrushkevskaya. ‘Major Kolea was good enough to explain that you were detained by an important strategic briefing.’
‘I was. I am still sorry. Vervunhive has a very, very important place in this regiment. It is an honour to receive reinforcements from Verghast.’
‘It is an honour to serve under the People’s Hero,’ said Zhukova.
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Gaunt.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Zhukova, bright-eyed. ‘To this day, your name is spoken with honour and respect at every level of hive life. Did you know that in Hess West Sector alone, there are four public statues of you? I have picts, if you would like to see them.’
‘Thank you, but I’m confident I know what I look like,’ said Gaunt.
Zhukova laughed.
‘You are certainly more handsome in person,’ she said.
‘Now, I really like her already,’ said Blenner, stepping forwards. ‘Don’t you, Ibram? I really like you, Captain Zhukova. The colonel-commissar is a terrible old bore, and pretends he doesn’t like people going on about his heroism, or how handsome he is. But we can all see that for ourselves, can’t we? Between you and me, he secretly loves it, and I recommend you do it as often as possible, no matter how much he protests.’
‘Blenner,’ Gaunt hissed.
‘In fact,’ Blenner went on, ‘the more he protests, the more he secretly likes it.’
‘Really?’ laughed Zhukova.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Blenner. ‘I should know. I’ve known him all my life.’
‘Have you?’ asked Zhukova. This seemed to impress her. ‘That must be wonderful. What an example he must have set.’
‘I can’t begin to tell you,’ said Blenner, placing one hand on his heart and tilting his head to the side. ‘He’s quite inspiring. Although, and few know it…’ he dropped his voice and leaned forwards. Zhukova bent forwards to listen, her eyes even wider.
‘…I taught him a great deal about life and the deportment of an officer,’ said Blenner.
‘Did you?’ exclaimed Zhukova.
‘I don’t like to talk about it. It’s not as if I’m looking for credit or recognition. It’s enough to know that I’ve helped to shape the character of an Imperial hero.’
‘Of course it is,’ Zhukova agreed.
‘Blenner!’ Gaunt hissed, rather more emphatically.
‘You’re very comely, Captain Zhukova,’ said Blenner. ‘May I say that? I don’t mean to speak out of turn, and I certainly mean nothing inappropriate by it. I speak only as a commissar, in a purely professional regard. My business is the morale and discipline of the fighting lasman, and in that regard, your captivating looks are quite a potent weapon to have in our arsenal. I mean this purely analytically! The men will follow you, obey you. They will be devoted to you, and–’
‘Captain Zhukova is well aware of the effect of her looks on the male soldier,’ said Petrushkevskaya. She was not smiling. ‘Indeed, we have had conversations about it.’
‘I’m sure you have, major, I’m sure you have,’ said Blenner. ‘You understand it too, don’t you? The importance of something like that. Just in strategic terms. Now… Pet-trush-kevs-kaya… That’s right, isn’t it? Quite a mouthful. We should think about shortening that to something the men can get their tongues around.’