‘That does seem unlikely,’ Koorland admitted.
‘That unlikelihood in those particular circumstances concerns me.’
‘With justification,’ said Koorland. ‘However, what action can you take?’
Thane grimaced in frustration. ‘None,’ he said.
‘You are needed on this mission more than you are on Terra,’ Koorland went on. ‘And as I told you, Veritus is going too.’
Thane let out a bark of mirthless laughter. ‘We aren’t just going where an inquisitor points us. We will be led by the Inquisitorial Representative himself. We will trust a High Lord not to take us to destruction?’
‘No,’ said Koorland. ‘We aren’t going to trust him at all. He knows the way to where he thinks you may find the Sisters of Silence. Use his information. Listen to what he has to say. But the mission is yours. You are a Chapter Master leading Adeptus Astartes. The Deathwatch is not the Inquisition’s to command.’
‘Agreed. He’ll try to assume that authority, though. That’s a certainty.’
‘His tactics do not appear to be subtle. So far, at least. His power grabs have been accompanied by a clear belief in his entitlement. All the same, be wary, especially when you find the Sisters.’
‘You mean if, don’t you?’
‘No.’ Koorland spat the word out. If he denied the possibility of failure with enough force, perhaps he could will what the Imperium needed into existence. ‘They must be found. Without them…’ He stopped himself. Had he been about to say that unless the myths were discovered to exist, the war was hopeless? No. He would not permit himself so unworthy a thought. But oh, the weight of the defeats. It grew and grew, his shoulders straining to hold it up. Even the victories were partial, and came at so great a cost they were difficult to regard as triumphs. And so many victories led only to greater defeats. He and Thane had already found one myth, only to lose Vulkan forever on the blood-soaked ground of another legend.
And now another search. Once again on the sword point of desperation.
‘No,’ Koorland said again. ‘When you find them. You will.’
‘Because I must,’ Thane said. His face was lined with sorrow. He looked over at the stained-glass portrait of Dorn. ‘Do you think, when this war has run its course, we will have destroyed all the myths that were left to us?’
‘If we do,’ Koorland said, ‘we will create new ones. If we have to embody them ourselves.’
On the landing pad of the pocket space port, Wienand approached the warriors of Squad Gladius. ‘Politics,’ she said, ‘is a disease.’
The Space Marines were preparing the Penitent Wrath to leave from the only launching facility within kilometres of the barracks that had not been devastated by the meteor storm. They would be departing within hours. Veritus had not joined them yet. Wienand had guessed he would not arrive until shortly before the launch.
Thane and the warriors in black looked at her, motionless.
‘You have no love for politicians,’ Wienand continued. ‘Look where the Council has brought us. But politics are inevitable. There is no cure for the plague, and no immunity. Look at yourselves. The Deathwatch is political in its elements, and deeply so in its effect.’
‘Why are you here, inquisitor?’ Thane asked.
‘I’m here to contain the damage of your current infection.’
Warfist growled. ‘You think we would accept a second inquisitor on this mission?’
‘When that inquisitor is myself, yes.’ She walked across the launch pad, stopping near the gunship’s ramp. ‘I notice you take for granted that I know the nature of your mission.’
‘If you’re here,’ Abathar said, ‘then you know.’
‘No games,’ said Warfist. ‘State your intent or leave us.’
‘I’ve already stated my intent. And you are all playing the political game whether you admit it to yourself or not. But you’re right, I should be clear. You know Inquisitor Veritus and I do not work hand in glove.’
‘You are both inquisitors,’ said Forcas.
‘Which did not stop him from attempting to have me assassinated. He did succeed in having me deposed as Inquisitorial Representative.’
‘And?’ said Thane.
‘You should think of me as a check against his game.’
There was silence as the Space Marines exchanged glances. She waited in their midst. She did not withdraw to give them privacy. They would have to grow used to her presence. She watched them think through what she proposed. She had no authority here. She could only be invited. But if Thane, as mission commander, requested her presence, Veritus would not be able to overrule him.
‘Why do you wish to come?’ Straton asked.
Because there is great potential in what the Deathwatch is and does, she thought. Because I won’t let Veritus seize that potential for himself. What she said was, ‘Because I need to see what you will find.’ That, too, was the truth.
Vangorich had told her what Koorland planned. ‘The Sisters of Silence,’ she had said. She had never expected to speak those words. Years before, in the vaults of the Inquisition’s fortress, she had read about them, and many other organisations that might or might not have existed in the far reaches of time. She had never believed the order still endured. There was no reason to do so. The Sisters had vanished into a myth-shrouded past. What they represented…
She had not yet allowed herself to articulate what they meant, because the hope of their reality still felt like a forbidden one. Yet when she had spoken to Rendenstein about what Vangorich had told her, and what she planned, she had seen in her bodyguard’s face the same need, the same desire to hope, and the same caution. Rendenstein understood.
Thane was wearing his helmet. Wienand could not see his expression. But in the slight cocking of his head, she thought there was understanding.
‘You found one legend,’ she told him. ‘I need to be there when you find another.’
A low, weary chuckle emerged from the helm’s vox-grille. ‘Is that all?’
She grinned. ‘What do you think?’
Seven
The Sacratus System was a dark one. It was in an isolated sector in the eastern region of the Segmentum Pacificus, far from trade routes. It lacked any strategic value. The sun that shone on Sacratus was so distant, the light that reached the shrine world was frozen. It was the glint of ice, and the memory of solitude. The sluggish winds of the planet’s thin atmosphere stirred nitrogen snows over the roofs of mausoleums as large as manufactoria. The architecture reminded Thane more of an encrustation than of solemn remembrance. Sepulchres and vaults and chapels were built into and atop one another, tumours of granite and marble connected by tendrils of staircases.
Squad Gladius and Wienand followed Veritus down the staircases. The route was labyrinthine and patchwork, flights descending for hundreds of metres or less than five. Sometimes Veritus chose a direction that climbed back upwards for a few minutes, then he would take a sudden turn downwards again. Sometimes he would pause and consult his data-slate. For the most part he walked without hesitation.
‘He is sure of his way,’ Straton said.
‘Very,’ Thane agreed. ‘What do you know of this world?’ he asked Wienand.
She walked just ahead of the squad, a few steps behind Veritus.
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I had never heard of it before now.’
‘You have not been looking at the correct records,’ Veritus said without looking back. The old man took the stairs with a surprisingly limber gait, even in his environmental suit.
‘Oh? And which ones were those?’
Veritus didn’t answer.
Eventually the staircases were no longer in the open air. The Deathwatch moved past and through shrines that had been buried by the others.