Hark frowned.
‘You’ve taken him into custody to prevent the ordos doing it?’
‘I was obliged to agree with Laksheema that Kolea’s detention was urgently required,’ said Grae. ‘I couldn’t disagree. But I could get there first.’
‘He’s in detention, just as she wanted…’
‘But not her detention.’
‘This is protective.’
‘It will take the ordos a while to work out where Kolea is, and longer to process the paperwork to have him transferred to their keeping. That buys us time. In the long run, they’ll get him. The Inquisition always gets what it wants. But we can delay that inevitability.’
Hark exhaled heavily in wonder.
‘Tell me about these issues,’ he said.
Chief Tactical Officer Biota brought them to the war room. The first thing that struck Gaunt was the temperature. Several hundred cogitators, arranged over five storeys, generated considerable heat. Despite the size of the chamber, the air was swampy. Immense air ducts and extractor vents had been fitted into the chamber ceiling, and hung down like the pipes of a vast temple organ over the main floor. They chugged constantly, and the breeze they created flapped the corners of papers stacked on desks.
Entry was on the first floor, a broad gallery that extended around the chamber’s sides and overlooked the busy main hall. Three more galleries were ranged above the first, and Gaunt could see they were all teaming with cogitator stations and personnel. At the centre of the main floor below lay a titanic strategium display, the size of a banqueting table, its surface flickering with holographic data and three-dimensional geographic relief. Nineteen vertical hololith plates were suspended around the main table, projecting specific Urdeshi theatres and the near-space blockade. Adepts with holo-poles leant across the strategium table to sweep data around, or used the poles like fishing rods to move captured data packets from one plate to another. There was a constant murmur of voices.
Biota led them up the ironwork stairs to the second gallery, which was packed with high-gain voxcaster units. The trunking spilled across the floor was as dense as jungle creepers, and the Munitorum had laid down flakboard walkways between the stations to prevent tripping and tangling. Message runners darted past, carrying urgent despatches from one command department to another.
‘This way,’ said Biota. They climbed to the third gallery. The war room had once been the great hall of the keep, Gaunt presumed. The towering windows were stained glass, and cast a ruddy gloom across the scene. Each desk, cogitator and work station was lit by its own lumen globe or angle lamp.
The third level gallery was divided into sections for the main division chiefs, each with its own smaller strategium system and cogitator staff. Each zone was privacy screened with a faint, shimmering force field. Gaunt passed one where three Urdeshi marshals were arguing across a table, then another where Bulledin was briefing Grizmund and a quartet of armour chieftains.
Van Voytz and Cybon were waiting in the third. Colonel Kazader and about twenty officers and tactical specialists were with them.
Biota wanded the privacy veil open to admit Gaunt.
‘Your men can wait here,’ he said.
‘The Scions can,’ said Gaunt. ‘These Ghosts are my staff, so they’ll be coming with me.’
‘I really don’t think–’ Biota began.
‘Bram! Get in here!’ Van Voytz called jovially.
‘Follow me, please,’ Gaunt said to Daur and the others.
Van Voytz got up and clapped Gaunt on the arm paternally. Cybon, sullen, sat at the strategium.
‘Good morning to you, my lord militant,’ Van Voytz said. He was in ‘good humour’ mood, but Gaunt had known the lord general’s moods long enough to catch the tension.
‘We were scheduled for this afternoon, sir,’ said Gaunt.
‘Things have moved up,’ said Cybon, just a steel hiss.
‘I doubt very much you haven’t absorbed the briefing data already, Bram,’ said Van Voytz. ‘You always were a quick study. Diligent.’
‘I have, as it happens,’ said Gaunt. ‘I would have appreciated longer. It’s considerable and complex.’
‘Well, we’ll have the room to begin with,’ said Van Voytz, nodding to Kazader and looking significantly at Gaunt’s men.
‘I’m going to have to brief my men anyway,’ said Gaunt. ‘This is Captain Daur, G Company lead, one of my seniors. Beltayn is my adjutant. Bonin is scout company, so he represents the Tanith specialty. It’ll save time if they hear it first hand. I believe time is of the essence.’
Bonin, Beltayn and Daur had all drawn to salute the lord generals. Van Voytz glanced at Cybon, got a curt nod, then accepted the salute.
‘Stand easy,’ he said. ‘Good to meet you.’
‘They’re here to take notes, are they?’ asked Cybon.
‘They are, sir,’ said Gaunt.
Cybon looked at Bonin. Daur and Beltayn had both brought out data-slates. Bonin was standing with his hands behind his back.
‘That man doesn’t have a pen,’ said Cybon.
‘He doesn’t need one,’ said Gaunt.
‘Immediate update, as of this morning,’ said Van Voytz. Biota flipped the table view to a projection of a southern hemispheric area.
‘The hot spot is Ghereppan,’ said Van Voytz. ‘All eyes on that. Major conflict reported in the over-nights. We think Sek is concentrating a new effort there. He may be in that zone in person.’
‘That’s where the Saint is?’ asked Gaunt.
‘Leading the main southern efforts,’ said Biota.
‘Also of note, however–’ Van Voytz started to say.
‘She’s a target,’ Gaunt interrupted.
‘What?’
‘Is that deliberate or accidental?’
‘She’s leading the forces there,’ said Van Voytz.
‘Nominally,’ Cybon added.
‘But she’s bait,’ said Gaunt. ‘Is that by design?’
‘What are you saying, Bram?’ asked Van Voytz.
‘You put our highest value asset on the ground under Sek’s nose,’ said Gaunt. ‘He’s biting. Was that deliberate?’
Van Voytz glanced at Cybon.
‘I’m asking,’ said Gaunt, ‘if this is part of a projected policy by the warmaster. To bait the Archenemy.’
‘She’s a senior commander,’ said Cybon.
Gaunt pointed to the table.
‘Of course. But she is also a symbolic asset. If the Ghereppan action was commanded by you, sir, or Urienz, or me, do you suppose the enemy disposition would be the same? You kill one of us, you kill a senior officer. You kill the Saint, then you win an immense psychological victory.’
Van Voytz cleared his throat.
‘There is fury here,’ said Gaunt, running his finger along the lines of the three-dimensional modelling. ‘An urgent, careless onrush. Look, they clearly haven’t secured these highways, or either of these refinery areas. This vapour mill has been bypassed. Those are all strategic wins. The Archenemy is effectively ignoring them in its effort to reach Ghereppan and engage. Sek sees the Saint as a vital target, more vital than any of the forge assets on this world. Of course he does. So see how he reacts? His tactics are hasty, eager and over-stretching. They are not typical of his usual, careful methodology.’
‘I have… I have already noted to you,’ said Biota, ‘that there is a madness in the Anarch’s battlefield craft. No logic. This has been going on for a while.’
‘You have, sir,’ replied Gaunt, ‘and no wonder. There is a logic, it’s just not the logic we would apply. I’ll ask again, is the Saint being used as bait to draw the Anarch into an unwise over-stretch?’
‘We are aware that she is a tempting prospect,’ said Van Voytz.