‘What’s that about?’ she asked, gesturing to the sheets.
‘Snipers,’ said the driver.
‘Snipers?’
‘We string the streets up with cloth like that to reduce any line of sight,’ the driver said. ‘It blocks the scoping opportunities for marksmen.’
‘There are snipers here?’ asked Criid.
‘From time to time,’ the man nodded. ‘The Archenemy is everywhere. Not so much here these days. The main fighting is in the south and the east. Those are whole different kinds of kill-zones. But the enemy sneaks in sometimes. Insurgents, suicide packs, infiltration units, sometimes bastards who have laid low in the bomb-wastes or the sewers since the last occupation. They like to cause trouble.’
Criid nodded. ‘Good to know,’ she said.
He glanced at her again.
‘Learn the habits now you’re here,’ he said. ‘Stay away from windows. Don’t loiter outdoors. And watch out for garbage or debris in roads or doorways. Derelict vehicles too. The bastards like to leave surprises around. Seldom a day goes past without a bomb.’
They reached a junction, and ground to a halt, waiting as heavy cargo transporters and armoured cars growled by, heading towards the docks.
Across the junction, Criid saw the end wall of an old manufactory. Someone, with some skill, had taken paint to it and daubed the words ‘the saint lives and is with us’ in huge red letters. Beside it was a crude but expressive image of a woman with a sword.
‘The Saint,’ said Criid.
‘Beati Sabbat, may she bless us and watch over us,’ said the driver.
‘Good to see that Urdesh is strong in faith at least,’ she said.
‘Not just a matter of faith,’ said the driver, putting the cargo-8 in gear and leading the convoy away again onto a long slope towards the garment district. ‘She’s here. Here with us.’
‘The Saint?’
‘Yes, lady.’
‘Saint Sabbat is here on Urdesh?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ said the driver. ‘Didn’t they tell you anything?’
Thirteen: Good Faith
The Urdeshic Palace occupied the cone of the Great Hill. Eltath was the subcontinental capital of the Northern Dynastic Clave, and like all of Urdesh’s forge cities, its situation and importance were determined by the geothermal power of the volcanic outcrop. The Adeptus Mechanicus had come to Urdesh thousands of years before, during the early settlement of the Sabbat Worlds, and capped and tamed the world’s vulcan cones to heat and power their industries. Urdesh was not just strategically significant because of its location: it was a vital, living asset to mass manufacture.
Van Voytz’s transport, under heavy escort, moved up through the hillside thoroughfares, passing the towers of the Mechanicus manufactories and vapour mills that plugged the slopes and drew power from the geothermal reserves. Swathes of steam and smoke clad the upper parts of the city, hanging like mountain weather, the by-product of industry. Soot and grime caked the work towers and construction halls, and blackened the great icons of the Machine-God that badged the manufactory walls.
‘At one time,’ Van Voytz remarked, ‘they say the Mechanicus employed as many work crews to maintain the forge palaces as they did in the forges themselves. They’d clean and re-clean, never-ending toil, to keep those emblems blazing gold and polish the white stones of the walls. But this is wartime, Bram. Looks are less important, and the Mechanicus needs all its manpower at work inside. So the dirt builds up, and the glory fades.’
‘I’m sure there is some parable there, sir,’ ventured Biota, ‘of Urdesh itself. The endless toil to keep it free from ruinous filth.’
Van Voytz smiled.
‘I’m sure, my old friend. The unbowed pride of the Urdeshi Dynasts, labouring forever. I’m sure the adepts have composed code-songs about it.’
‘She’s really here?’ asked Gaunt.
Van Voytz looked amused, seeing how distractedly Gaunt stared from the transport’s window at the city moving past.
‘She is, Bram,’ he said.
‘Sanian? From Hagia?’
‘She hasn’t used that name in a long time,’ said Van Voytz. ‘She is the Beati now, in all measure, a figurehead for our monumental struggle.’
Gaunt looked at the general.
‘Can I see her?’ he asked.
Van Voytz shook his head.
‘No, Bram. Not for a while at least.’
‘It is a matter of logistics,’ put in Biota helpfully. ‘She is placed with the Ghereppan campaign, in the southern hemisphere, many thousands of kilometres from here, where the fighting is most intense. Access is difficult. Perhaps a vox-link might be established for you.’
‘How long has she been here?’ Gaunt asked.
‘Since the counter-strike began,’ said Van Voytz. ‘So… four years?’
‘Three,’ said Biota. ‘Colonel-commissar, many aspects of the campaign have changed since you… since you were last privy to the situation. I should brief you on the details as early as possible.’
‘Much has changed,’ said Van Voytz, ‘yet much has remained the same. Ten years on, and the requirements of our endeavour remain fixed.’
He leaned forwards in his leather seat, facing Gaunt, his elbows on his knees. There was an intent look in his eyes that Gaunt had not seen since the earliest days of their campaigning together.
‘The issue is the same as it’s always been,’ he said, ‘ever since Balhaut. Imperial focus. Our beloved warmaster insists, despite staff advice, on driving us against the Archon and the Anarch. We wage two crusades in one.’
‘Slaydo underestimated the individual power of the magisters,’ said Gaunt.
‘Oh, he did. He did indeed,’ Van Voytz admitted. ‘And of them, Anarch Sek is by far the most dangerous.’
‘The Coreward Assault necessitated a division of our efforts,’ said Gaunt. ‘We would have been utterly lost if we had not countered–’
Van Voytz held up his hands.
‘I’m not arguing, Bram. It was vital. Then. But we have broken Sek and driven him out of the Cabal Systems. Those stars are freed. This, all down to the policy of internecine division that you advocated.’
‘It worked?’ asked Gaunt.
‘We used Sek’s ambition and power against him,’ said Biota. ‘After the Salvation’s Reach mission, there were others, all framed with the same intent – to ignite the rivalry between Sek and Gaur. They no longer move in unity. There is conflict. Considerable fighting between Sanguinary tribes. Intelligence suggests that, for a period of two years, an all-out war raged between the Blood Pact and the Sons of Sek in the Vanda Pi systems. Sek was broken down, pushed out of the Khan and Cabal Systems, and Archon Gaur was hounded back to the stalwart line of the Erinyes Group.’
‘But Sek is back, here?’ said Gaunt.
‘Either the Anarch has been brought into line again by Gaur,’ said Van Voytz, ‘and is making an effort to display his renewed loyalty, or he is making a last-ditch effort to consolidate his own power and resources. He has launched this counter-strike against a clutch of systems, with particular focus on Urdesh, because of its productive assets. This poor world, contested so many times. I doubt another world in the Sabbat Zone has changed hands so often in the last hundred years.’
‘So the effort is to break him here?’ asked Gaunt.
‘For the last time,’ said Van Voytz. ‘While Lord General Eirik leads the push against Gaur. And that’s the thing – we are on two fronts again. We are spread thin. It’s a policy Macaroth will not let go of.’
‘Because he recognises the threat of Sek,’ said Gaunt.