‘I am not a novice,’ he said. ‘This route leads to the training halls set aside for initiates of the nuncio.’

‘It does indeed, Kai,’ agreed Sarashina. ‘Where else would your training begin?’

‘Begin? I’ve served the Telepathica for over a decade, and I know the rites of incubation. I don’t need to be treated like a child.’

‘We’ll treat you how we damn well please,’ snapped Golovko, pushing him towards the open door. ‘You don’t have any say in the matter, and if it was up to me, I’d never have allowed you back. You’re dangerous, I can feel it.’

‘You should watch those “feelings”, Golovko,’ said Kai, shrugging off the man’s grip. ‘Things like that will get the psi-hounds sniffing around you. And I don’t think you’ve got what it takes to cut it here.’

‘Enough, both of you,’ said Sarashina. ‘Your petty posturing is ridiculous, and will only cause tremors in the aether.’

Kai said nothing, knowing she was right and remembering the low-grade irritation he’d felt whenever outsiders had let their emotions get the better of them in close proximity to a whisper stone. Without further protest, Kai followed Sarashina along the passageway, the brickwork faced with tiles of ochre ceramic and the glow of the entrance hall fading behind them. Reinforced doors punctuated its length, each one marked with a number and name. Within each marked cell, an initiate of the Scholastica Psykana slumbered, perhaps dreaming, perhaps not. With the psi-shielded doors, it was impossible to know for sure. The darkness soon became absolute, yet Kai could still see perfectly well.

‘You are not using your blindsight,’ said Sarashina, with a slight incline of her head. Kai thought he detected a hint of disappointment in her tone.

‘No, my augmetics allow me to see perfectly well in the darkness.’

‘I know that, but what need of them did you have?’

‘I didn’t like being blind. Properly blind, I mean. I missed reading.’

‘There are books for those without eyes.’

‘I know, but I prefer to let the words come to me,’ said Kai. ‘There is more to the written word than lifting the words from the page with my fingertips. Language has visual beauty that touch-script can never match.’

‘I would debate that with you, but that is a discussion for late at night with a good book between us and a pot of hot caffeine. Could it be that you wished eyes again to hold onto some aspect of your life before entering the Telepathica?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Kai. ‘Maybe. I don’t see how it’s important.’

‘It may be crucial to understanding why you can no longer master the nuncioand open yourself to the dreams of your brothers.’

‘I know the nuncio,’ said Kai defensively. ‘I mastered it within a year.’

‘Then why are you here? Why does House Castana send its pre-eminent astropath back to the City of Sight?’

Kai did not answer her, and she stopped beside the open door of a cell.

‘I am here to help you, Kai,’ said Sarashina. ‘You were my greatest student, and if you have failed, then I have failed.’

‘No,’ said Kai. ‘It’s not that, it’s just… what happened on the Argo…’

Sarashina raised a hand to stop him.

‘Do not speak of it here while others are abed,’ she said, gesturing to the rows of cells that lined the corridor. ‘Sleep. Meditate for a while if it helps you. Refresh yourself, and I will speak to you in the morning.’

Kai nodded. Though his thoughts ran amok, his body craved sleep, and no matter that the bed of a novice was far from comfortable, it would be welcome. He stepped into the cell, catching a ghostly susurration of a distant voice in the darkness as he crossed the threshold. A whisper stone glinted on each side of the doorway, and he wondered into whose dream or memory he had briefly intruded.

Memories were all too common in the walls of the City of Sight, and most of them were ones you wouldn’t want. No one dwelled too long on memories if they valued their sanity.

Kai knew that better than anyone.

THE DOOR TO Kai’s cell closed with a heavy thud of wood on stone. There was no click of a lock, as was common for novice cells, but he could sense the presence of two Black Sentinels outside. Sarashina might talk to him like a prodigal son, but Golovko was another matter entirely. Kai could only imagine the nightmares Golovko’s bilious presence was provoking among the true novices.

His travel trunk hadn’t yet made it to his cell, and he supposed the Black Sentinels were examining his personal effects for any hint of something dangerous. They wouldn’t find anything. Kai had wanted nothing from the Argo, and his possessions amounted to little more than a few undershirts, his hygiene kit, a finely-tailored suit from the seamstress-houses of the Nihon peninsula, and, of course, his many leather-bound oneirocritica.

The books would mean nothing to the Black Sentinels, but the cryptaesthesians would examine them thoroughly to ensure there was no latent symbolism that was cause for alarm.

They wouldn’t find anything, but he understood they had to check.

The interior of the cell was bare and devoid of anything that might have indicated who had lived here before him. That was sensible, for any lingering sense of a previous occupant would influence Kai’s dreaming. A cot bed lay along one wall, with a simple footlocker at its base. A small writing desk and chair sat opposite the bed, and a black notebook lay on a blotting pad, next to an inkhorn and pen.

Empty shelves lined the wall above the desk, ready to be filled with an astropath’s steadily growing oneirocriticacollection. The shelves were short, for a novice would take time to build a comprehensive library of imagery, symbolism and dream recordings.

Kai placed the bottle of amasec he’d taken from the Castana skimmer on the table and lifted the notebook from the desk. He idly fanned its thick pages, smelling the crisp newness of the paper. Each page was blank, ready to be filled with dream perceptions, and he carefully placed the book down. It was empty, but the potential of what mightfill its pages was like a loaded gun.

Given his level of expertise, Kai wanted to feel offended at being put in a novice’s cell, but the anger wouldn’t come. It made sense, and he realised the lack of responsibility it implied was refreshing. He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, letting his breathing slow as the ache of psi-sickness gnawed at his bones.

Though his thoughts were troubled, sleep was a state few astropaths had trouble attaining. With the right mantras and incubation techniques, any state of mind was possible.

Sleep came easily to Kai, but his dreams were not restful.

THREE

The Best Move

Rub’ al Khali

Arzashkun

‘YOUR EMPRESS IS exposed,’ said the Choirmaster of Astropaths with a grin.

‘I am aware of that,’ replied Sarashina, moving the carved piece of coral from the ocean world of Laeran across the board. ‘Do you think this is the first time I have played regicide?’

Nemo Zhi-Meng smiled and shook his head. ‘Of course not, but I do not want to win through your inattention.’

‘You are assuming you are going to win.’

‘I normally do.’

‘You won’t today,’ said Sarashina, as Zhi-Meng took a Castellan with his Chevalier and laid it on the carpeted floor. The board and its pieces had been a gift of the Phoenician himself, and the ornamentation on each figurine was wondrous. Each figure was worked to an obsessive degree, with a character all of their own, as one would expect from the hand of a primarch who was the embodiment of such attention to detail. The feel of them was exquisite, and to touch such pieces was as pleasurable as the game itself.

‘I think you are wrong,’ said Zhi-Meng as Sarashina pushed her Divinitarch across the board.