"You want to?'

'Luc and Seghar heard and witnessed mine before the Whisperheads. And Tarik is my friend.’

Abaddon looked sidelong at the Warmaster, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. Abaddon handed the parchments to Loken.

Loken strode out across the deck, Aximand at his side, and heard the four captains take their oaths. Little Horus held out the bolter on which the oaths were sworn.

When it was done, Loken handed the oath papers to each of them.

'Be well.’ he said to them, 'and commend your unit commanders. The Warmaster personally admired their work today.’

Verulam Moy made the sign of the aquila. 'My thanks, Captain Loken.’ he said, and walked away towards his pod, shouting for his unit seconds.

Serghar Targost smiled at Loken, and clasped his fist, thumb around thumb. By his side, Luc Sedirae grinned with his ever half-open mouth, his eyes a murderous blue, eager for war.

'If I don't see you next on this deck...' Sedirae began.

'...let it be at the Emperor's side.’ Loken finished.

Sedirae laughed and ran, whooping, towards his pod. Targost locked on his helm and strode away in the opposite direction.

'Luc's blood is up.’ Loken said to Torgaddon. 'How's yours?'

'My humours are all where they should be.’ Torgaddon replied. He hugged Loken, with a clatter of plate, and then did the same to Aximand.

'Lupercal!' he bellowed, punching the air with his fist, and turned away, running to his waiting drop-pod.

'Lupercal!' Loken and Aximand shouted after him.

The pair turned and walked back to join Abaddon, Maloghust and the Warmaster.

'I'm always a little jealous.’ Little Horus muttered to Loken as they crossed the deck.

'Me too.’

'I always want it to be me.’

'I know.’

'Going into something like that.’

'I know. And I'm always just a little afraid.’

'Of what, Garviel?'

That we won't see them again.’

"We will.’

'How can you be so sure, Horus?' Loken wondered.

'I can't say.’ replied Aximand, with a deliberate irony that made Loken laugh.

The observing party withdrew behind the blast shields. A sudden, volatile pressure change announced the opening of the deck's void fields. The firing coils accelerated to maximum charge, shrieking with pent up energy.

The word is given.’ Abaddon instructed above the uproar.

One by one, each with a concussive bang, the drop-pods fired down through the deck slots like bullets. It was like the ripple of a full broadside firing. The embarkation deck shuddered as the drop-pods ejected free.

Then they were all gone, and the deck was suddenly quiet, and tiny armoured pellets, cocooned in teardrops of blue fire, sank away towards the planet's surface.

I CAN'T SAY.

The phrase had haunted Loken since the sixth week of the voyage to Murder. Since he had gone with Little Horus to the lodge meeting.

The meeting place had been one of the aft holds of the flagship, a lonely, forgotten pocket of the ship's superstructure. Down in the dark, the way had been lit by tapers.

Loken had come in simple robes, as Aximand had instructed him. They'd met on the fourth midships deck, and taken the rail carriage back to the aft quarters before descending via dark service stairwells.

'Relax.’ Aximand kept telling him.

Loken couldn't. He'd never liked the idea of the lodges, and the discovery that Jubal had been a member had increased his disquiet.

This isn't what you think it is.’ Aximand had said.

And what did he think it was? A forbidden conclave. A cult of the Lectio Divinitatus. Or worse. A terrible assembly. A worm in the bud. A cancer at the heart of the Legion.

As he walked down the dim, metal deckways, part of him hoped that what awaited him would be infernal. A coven. Proof that Jubal had already been tainted by some manufacture of the warp before the Whisper-heads. Proof that would reveal a source of evil to Loken that he could finally strike back at in open retribution, but the greater part of him willed it to be otherwise. Little Horus Aximand was party to this meeting. If it was tainted, then Aximand's presence meant that taint ran profoundly deep. Loken didn't want to have to go head to head with Aximand. If what he feared was true, then in the next few minutes he might have to fight and kill his Mournival brother.

ЛУТю approaches?' asked a voice from the darkness. Loken saw a figure, evidently an Astartes by his build, shrouded in a hooded cloak.

Two souls.’ Aximand replied.

What are your names?' the figure asked.

'I can't say.’

'Pass, friends.’

They entered the aft hold. Loken hesitated. The vast, scaffold-framed area was eerily lit by candles and a vigorous fire in a metal canister. Dozens of hooded figures stood around. The dancing light made weird shadows of the deep hold's structural architecture.

'A new friend comes.’ Aximand announced.

The hooded figures turned. 'Let him show the sign.’ said one of them in a voice that seemed familiar.

'Show it.’ Aximand whispered to Loken.

Loken slowly held out the medal Aximand had given him. It glinted in the fire light. Inside his robe, his

other hand clasped the grip of the combat knife he had concealed.

'Let him be revealed.’ a voice said.

Aximand reached over and drew Loken's hood down.

'Welcome, brother warrior.’ the others said as one.

Aximand pulled down his own hood. 'I speak for him.’ he said.

Tour voice is noted. Is he come of his own free will?'

'He is come because I invited him.’

'No more secrecy.’ the voice said.

The figures removed their hoods and showed their faces in the glow of the candles. Loken blinked.

There was Torgaddon, Luc Sedirae, Nero Vipus, Kalus Ekaddon, Verulam Moy and two dozen other senior and junior Astartes.

And Serghar Targost, the hidden voice. Evidently the lodge master.

'You'll not need the blade.’ Targost said gently, stepping forwards and holding out his hand for it. 'You are free to leave at any time, unmolested. May I take it from you? Weapons are not permitted within the bounds of our meetings.’

Loken took out the combat knife and passed it to Targost. The lodge master placed it on a wall strut, out of the way.

Loken continued to look from one face to another. This wasn't like anything he had expected.

'Tarik?'

'We'll answer any question, Garviel.’ Torgaddon said. 'That's why we brought you here.’

We'd like you to join us.’ said Aximand, 'but if you choose not to, we will respect that too. All we ask, either way, is that you say nothing about what and who you see here to anyone outside.’

Loken hesitated. 'Or... '

'It's not a threat.’ said Aximand. 'Nor even a condition. Simply a request that you respect our privacy.’

We've known for a long time.’ Targost said, 'that you have no interest in the warrior lodge.’

'I'd perhaps have put it more strongly than that.’ said Loken.

Targost shrugged. We understand the nature of your opposition. You're far from being the only Astartes to feel that way. That is why we've never made any attempt to induct you.’

What's changed?' asked Loken.

You have.’ said Aximand. You're not just a company officer now, but a Mournival lord. And the fact of the lodge has come to your attention.’

'Jubal's medal...' said Loken.

'Jubal's medal.’ nodded Aximand. 'Jubal's death was a terrible thing, which we all mourn, but it affected you more than anyone. We see how you strive to make amends, to whip your company into tighter and finer form, as you blame yourself. When the medal turned up, we were concerned that you might start to make waves. That you might start asking open questions about the lodge.’

'So this is self-interest?' Loken asked. You thought you'd gang up on me and force me into silence?'