The envoys were hard to read. Their behaviour often seemed superior or condescending, as if they regarded the Imperials as crude and unsophisticated. But still, clearly, they were fascinated. The legends of old Terra and the human bloodline had long been a central tenet of their myths and histories. However disappointing the reality, they could not bear to break off contact with their treasured ancestral past.

Eventually, a summit was proposed, whereby the War-master and his entourage would travel to the nearest interex outpost world, and conduct more detailed negotiations with higher representatives than the envoys.

The Warmaster took advice from all quarters, though Loken was sure he had already made up his mind. Some, like Abaddon, counselled that links should be

broken, and the interex held at abeyance until sufficient forces could be assembled to annex their territories. There were other matters at hand that urgently demanded the Warmaster's attention, matters that had been postponed for too long while he indulged in the six-month spider-war on Murder. Petitions and salutations were being received on a daily basis. Five primarchs had requested his personal audience on matters of general crusade strategy or for councils of war. One, the Lion, had never made such an approach before, and it was a sign of a welcome thawing in relations, one that Horus could not afford to overlook. Thirty-six expedition fleets had sent signals asking for advice, tactical determination or outright martial assistance. Matters of state also mounted. There was now a vast body of bureaucractic material relayed from the Council of Terra that required the Warmaster's direct attention. He had been putting it off for too long, blaming the demands of the crusade.

Accompanying the Warmaster on most of his daily duties, Loken began to see plainly what a burden the Emperor had placed on Horus's broad shoulders. He was expected to be all things: a commander of armies, a mastermind of compliance, a judge, a decider, a tactician, and the most delicate of diplomats.

During the six-month war, more ships had arrived at high anchor above Murder, gathering around the flagship like supplicants. The rest of the 63rd Expedition had translated, under Varvarus's charge, Sixty-Three Nineteen having at last been left in the lonely hands of poor Rakris. Fourteen vessels of the 88th Expedition had also appeared, under the command of Trajus Boniface of the Alpha Legion. Boniface claimed they had come in response to the 140th's plight, and hoped to support the war action on Murder, but it rapidly emerged he hoped to use the opportunity to convince

Horns to lend the 63rd's strengths to a proposed offensive into ork-held territories in the Kayvas Belt. This was a scheme his primarch, Alpharius, had long cherished and, like the Lion's advances, was a sign that Alpharius sought the approval and comradeship of the new War-master.

Horns studied the plans in private. The Kayvas Belt offensive was a projected five-year operation, and required ten times the manpower the Warmaster could currently muster.

'Alpharius is dreaming.’ he muttered, showing the scheme to Loken and Torgaddon. 'I cannot commit myself to this.'

One of Varvaras's ships had brought with it a delegation of eaxector tributi administrators from Terra. This was perhaps the most galling of all the voices baying for the Warmaster's attention. On the instruction of Mal-cador the Sigillite, and counter-signed by the Council of Terra, the eaxectors had been sent throughout the spreading territories of the Imperium, in a programme of general dispersal that made the mass deployment of the remembrancers look like a modest operation.

The delegation was led by a high administrix called Aenid Rathbone. She was a tall, slender, handsome woman with red hair and pale, high-boned features, and her manner was exacting. The Council of Terra had decreed that all expedition and crusade forces, all pri-marchs, all commanders, and all governors of compliant world-systems should begin raising and collecting taxes from their subject planets in order to bolster the increasing fiscal demands of the expanding Imperium. All she insisted on talking about was the collection of tithes.

'One world cannot support and maintain such a gigantic undertaking singlehanded.’ she explained to the Warmaster in slightly over-shrill tones. Terra cannot

shoulder this burden alone. We are masters of a thousand worlds now, a thousand thousand. The Imperium must begin to support itself.'

'Many worlds are barely in compliance, lady,' Horus said gently. 'They are recovering from the damage of war, rebuilding, reforming. Taxation is a blight they do not need.'

The Emperor has insisted this be so.'

'Has he?'

'Malcador the Sigillite, beloved by all, has impressed this upon me and all of my rank. Tribute must be collected, and mechanisms established so that such tribute is routinely and automatically gathered.'

The world governors we have put in place will find this too thankless a task,' Maloghurst said. They are still legitimising their rule and authority. This is premature.'

The Emperor has insisted this be so.’ she repeated.

That's the Emperor, beloved by all?' Loken asked. His comment made Horus smile broadly. Rathbone sniffed. 'I'm not sure what you're implying, captain.’ she said. This is my duty, and this is what I must do.’

When she had retired from the room with her staff, Horus sat back, alone amongst his inner circle. 'I have often thought.’ he remarked, 'that it might be the eldar who unseat us. Though fading, they are the most ingenious creatures, and if any could over-master mankind and break our Imperium apart, it would likely be them. At other times, I have fancied that it would be the green-skins. No end of numbers and no end of brute strength, but now, friends, I am certain it will be our own tax collectors who will do us in.’

There was general laughter. Loken thought of the poem in his pocket. Most of Karkasy's output he handed on to Sindermann for appraisal, but at their last meeting, Karkasy had introduced 'something of the doggerel'. Loken had read it. It had been a scurrilous

and mordant stanza about tax collectors that even Loken could appreciate. He thought about bringing it out for general amusement, but Horus's face had darkened.

'I only half joke.’ Horus said. Through the eaxectors, the Council places a burden on the fledgling worlds that is so great it might break us. It is too soon, too comprehensive, too stringent. Worlds will revolt. Uprisings will occur. Tell a conquered man he has a new master, and he'll shrug. Tell him his new master wants a fifth of his annual income, and he'll go and find his pitchfork. Aenid Rathbone, and administrators like her, will be the undoing of all we have achieved.’

More laughter echoed round the room.

'But it is the Emperor's will.’ Torgaddon remarked.

Horus shook his head. 'It is not, for all she says. I know him as a son knows his father. He would not agree to this. Not now, not this early. He must be too bound up in his work to know of it. The Council is making decisions in his absence. The Emperor understands how fragile things are. Throne, this is what happens when an empire forged by warriors devolves executive power to civilians and clerics.’

They all looked at him.

'I'm serious.’ he said. This could trigger civil war in certain regions. At the very least, it could undermine the continued work of our expeditions. The eaxectors need to be... sidelined for the moment. They should be given terrific weights of material to pore through to determine precise tribute levels, world by world, and bombarded with copious additional intelligence concerning each world's status.’

'It won't slow them down forever, lord.’ Maloghurst said. The Administration of Terra has already determined systems and measures by which tribute should be calculated, pro rata, world by world.’