‘Nothing. I get nothing. I get not to assassinate anyone, that is what I get. Keeping the peace is always my first intention, Chapter Master. I assure you of that.’ He tapped Thane’s plastron. ‘A threat loses its power once it is acted upon. I am a threat. Like I said, I belong in the shadows.’
Terra breathed again. The Great Chamber swarmed with lesser lords. It was even busier than usual, packed out with planetary delegations from beleaguered worlds. How quickly the vermin boil out of their hiding places when the storm has passed, Vangorich thought. A short while ago, he had regretted the absence of the least lords and all the others. Now he saw in them yet more potential for delay. Once, wider democracy had worked, but these were different times.
Nevertheless, today they were needed.
The building was in the throes of repair. Piles of rubble had been cleared away. Collapsed tiers of seating were roped off, the process of dismantling them half completed. Walls unknown to daylight for a thousand years stood exposed. Scaffolding rose up the sides of the dome, catwalks crisscrossed its vaulted expanse. Lines of fresh, pale plaster crept up along cracks. All menials had been dismissed while the Senatorum was in session, except the fresco painters, who must work their paints into the damp plaster before it dried. They sent black looks at the gathering lords, as if it were they who had invaded the painters’ workspace and not the other way around.
Really, it would have made more sense to hold a closed meeting of the High Twelve in the Clanium Library, or the Cerebrium, but a full session was required. Vangorich had spent several exhausting days making sure that it occurred.
Otherwise, the Great Chamber remained as it had been before the crisis. Floating constructs traversed the wide open space under the dome. The dais still rotated at its glacial pace. Dorn still glared down upon the seats of the High Lords. Vangorich looked up at the primarch’s face while the others dealt with their armies of aides and subordinates. He suppressed a smile at the thought of his Temple masters arriving here and mobbing him. Naturally, he only appeared alone. There were over a dozen Officio agents in the chamber, several embedded in the retinues of his fellow High Lords. He remained forever grateful that they could not bother him directly. He was a loner by inclination.
Everything hinged on the next few hours. He trusted Dorn’s glower would prove sufficient motivation to his gene-son to do the right thing.
The wait for proceedings to begin was the most tedious part of the day. Thousands of lesser lords and adepts filed into the intact galleries. Prefecti by the cohort, consularies by the gross. Vangorich slipped into a meditative trance, his hearing flicking from conversation to conversation. Ekharth was flustered, as well a man tasked with putting right the material damage done to Terra and its domains might be. Lansung was defiant, but it was a shell. Verreault was cowed, spending his time brooding over his own failures. Zeck’s augmetic face was unreadable. Kubik had come back from Mars, but his body was still.
The others behaved according to their character. Juskina Tull was a mental wreck, a blank face swamped by outrageous finery. She had developed a small tic around her left eye. The defeat of the Beast would force her to confront her failure with the Proletarian Crusade soon. Vangorich didn’t expect that to turn out well. Reports from his Temple Vanus infocytes indicated that her own people thought so too, and that a struggle among the Chartist Captains was already developing. Should she fall, he doubted the organisation would retain its place among the High Twelve.
Dissent among the Chartists, and a vacuum at the high table. More problems. Anwar, Sark and Gibran were becoming closer, the two psykers pulling the Paternoval Envoy into their circle. They had the warp in common, after all. This little triumvirate concerned him only slightly. Gibran held real power, but the other two were functionaries at heart, fiercely defensive of their adepta’s influences for no good reason — both the Adeptus Astra Telepathica and the Astronomican were essential to the Imperium. Neither of them posed any risk.
‘Vangorich.’ The phlegmy, ancient voice of Veritus broke into his semi-trance.
‘Ah, Veritus, how are you?’
Veritus loomed over him in his cream power armour, so Vangorich stood. Veritus’ wrinkled face stared at him defiantly from its protective apparatus. He looked so small in there.
‘This idea of yours, it cannot be,’ said Veritus. ‘You are playing a dangerous hand.’
‘Wienand told you, did she?’ said Vangorich.
‘She intends to go through with it, against my recommendation.’
‘A pity. I am sure if you were to re-examine the issue, it would make sense to you,’ said Vangorich.
‘A Space Marine should not sit on the Council. This reformation of the old Legion is ample evidence why.’
‘The first Lord Guilliman was, well, Lord Guilliman,’ offered Vangorich. ‘There is precedent.’
‘He was a primarch,’ said Veritus. ‘And perhaps the only one suitable to the role. Horus’ betrayal of the Emperor is the history you should be looking to here. Do not invest a Space Marine with such power over mortal men!’ Veritus was close to shouting in his face, his words carrying over the numbing hubbub of voices filling the chamber.
‘Sorry, but I don’t agree. Look, a couple of the others are beginning to pay attention to our business. Let’s say we debate this in the proper forum, when this session commences? Let’s put it to a vote.’
Veritus glared at him. ‘You cannot control him.’
‘Veritus! Why would I want to control him?’
‘You’re a liability,’ said Veritus. His armour whined as he stepped around the dais to take a seat by Wienand. Since Koorland’s death, there was one free.
‘Ekharth, when are we going to get started?’ called Zeck.
‘We’ll get started—’ began the master of the Administratum. The thump of ceramite boots on stone interrupted him.
‘Now?’ suggested Vangorich lightly.
Maximus Thane strode towards the dais, the crowds parting before him. He came escorted by a full squad of Imperial Fists First Company veterans, their armour heavy with battle honours. Cast icons of the Chapter hung from chains on their pauldrons. The yellow of their armour was almost obscured by gilding, badges and emblems.
‘Chapter Master! Good of you to join us,’ called Vangorich.
‘What can we do for you, Lord Thane?’ said Ekharth. Without a Lord Guilliman, he had asserted his adeptus’ seniority and appointed himself temporary chair. Such a snivelling, reactive little man ordinarily, he had become swelled with pomposity, like a toad.
‘I will speak with the High Lords,’ said Thane. He stopped by the rotating dais.
‘Impossible,’ said Ekharth. ‘The business of the Senatorum Imperialis is about to commence in full session. You have no seat here. We have petitions to hear from hundreds of worlds. You must wait your turn.’
‘I shall not,’ said Thane. ‘This will not wait.’
‘You must go, Thane,’ said Ekharth, his face flushing crimson.
So he has a backbone, thought Vangorich. That might prove problematic. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I motion that we bring forward other matters from the end of the session to now?’
‘We have not begun!’ said Lansung exasperatedly.
Vangorich shot him a warning look. The Lord Admiral seethed.
‘Seconded,’ said Wienand.
Anger bubbled up through the cracks in Ekharth’s mask of self-importance. ‘This is most irregular.’
The background chatter of the crowd hushed as the lesser lords and planetary delegations caught notice of the growing confrontation.
‘Call a vote. We are the High Lords. I rather thought we could conduct our business as we see fit. Let’s get it out of the way.’
‘Very well!’ said Ekharth. Along with his new backbone, he had acquired an orb of black granite that he slammed into a cup of the same. The clack of the gavel snapped through the chamber like a cannon shot. Bobbing servo-skulls swung their attention to the dais. The High Lords shooed away their remaining servants and subordinates. The conversation in the chamber dwindled to a breathy silence. ‘I bring this meeting of the Senatorum to order! We shall vote on undertaking other business first.’