‘Pained and tired,’ said Athena. ‘Is there any other way for an astropath to feel?’

Sarashina nodded in understanding. Athena caught the brief flare of sympathetic regret, and swallowed her anger at Sarashina’s pity.

‘Have you come to talk to me about Kai Zulane?’ asked Sarashina, ignoring Athena’s brusque tone.

‘No, though Throne knows he is damaged.’

‘Beyond repair?’

‘Hard to say for sure,’ said Athena. ‘There’s a lot of aversion in him, and he’s psi-sick because of it, but I think I can bring him back.’

‘So if you are not here to talk about Kai, what else is troubling you?’

‘I had a precept concerning the X Legion,’ said Athena. ‘Right after I saw Zulane.’

Sarashina gestured to the end of the stack furthest away from the hub, where numerous reading tables and data-engines were spread along the curved inner face of the tower. Sensing Athena’s unease, Sarashina picked an empty table far from astropaths studying the touch-script books and manuscripts.

Athena floated behind Sarashina and deposited her dream logs on the table.

‘This precept,’ asked Sarashina. ‘Have you logged it with the Conduit?’

‘Not yet, I wanted to speak to you first.’

‘Very well, but log it immediately after we speak. You know the purpose of the X Legion’s expedition?’

‘Of course,’ said Athena. ‘And that’s what scares the crap out of me, because I don’t think it’s a true precept.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean I don’t think it’s a vision of the future. I think it’s happening right now.’

‘Tell me what you saw,’ said Sarashina. ‘Leave nothing out.’

‘I was on a sun-parched desert when I saw an obsidian statue rise from the sands, a muscular figure clad in a breastplate of burnished iron and chained to a rock. The statue’s fists were encased in silver, and sitting on one of them was an amber-eyed falcon with ocean-green plumage and a hooked beak.’

‘The statue is obvious enough,’ said Sarashina. ‘Prometheus.’

Athena nodded. A vision of the Titan of ancient myth who signified belief in humanity even over divine decree was a common visual metaphor used by astropaths to represent the primarchs. The silver of the statue’s gauntlets was the final confirmation of this one’s identity.

‘Yes, Ferrus Manus,’ said Athena. ‘Primarch of the Iron Hands.’

‘So what happened in this vision?’

‘A shadow fell across the sun, and I looked up to see darkness eclipsing the face of its brightness until it resembled a world of black, granular sand. It’s a new symbol, but it’s one I’ve seen a lot of recently.’

‘Isstvan V,’ said Sarashina.

Athena nodded. ‘No sooner had the sun gone black than the statue of Prometheus pulled against the chains holding it fast to the rock. The falcon took to the air as the metal links shattered, and a spear of fire appeared in the giant’s fist. The statue surged forward and cast the spear into the heart of the black sun, and the tip punched into its heart in a shower of blazing sparks.’

‘That bodes well for Lord Dorn’s fleet,’ noted Sarashina.

‘I’m not finished yet,’ said Athena.

She took a deep breath before continuing. ‘Even as the statue slew the sun with its spear cast, I saw it had left much of its inner substance behind. Chunks of obsidian remained stuck to the rock, and I knew the giant had struck prematurely, without his full weight behind the blow. Then the statue sank beneath the sand, and the falcon flew back to the rock. It swallowed the chunks of obsidian and then took to the air with a caw of triumph.’

‘That is everything?’ asked Sarashina.

‘That’s everything,’ agreed Athena, tapping her dream records. ‘I checked my Oneirocriticaand it makes for uncomfortable reading.’

Sarashina extended her hands, nodding in agreement as her fingers danced over the raised words and letters.

‘Ferrus Manus always was impetuous,’ she said. ‘He races ahead of his brothers to Isstvan V to deliver the death blow to the rebels, while leaving much of his force behind.’

‘Yes, but it’s the hawk with the amber eyes that concerns me,’ said Athena.

‘The importance of the falcon is paramount,’ agreed Sarashina. ‘Its obvious implication is troubling. What elements Ferrus Manus leaves behind will be devoured. What other interpretation do you give the falcon?’

‘It’s a symbol of war and victory in most cultures.’

‘Which, in itself, is not troublesome, so what gives you cause for concern?’

‘This,’ said Athena, opening her oldest Oneirocriticawith her manipulator arm and turning it around. As Sarashina’s fingers slipped easily over the pages, her serene expression turned to a frown as the words imprinted on the pages went on.

‘This is ancient belief,’ said Sarashina.

‘I know. Many of the gods worshipped by these extinct cultures displayed hawks as symbols of their battle prowess, which just confirms the more obvious symbolism. But I remembered the text of a rubbing taken from a marble sculpture uncovered by the Conservatory only a year ago in the rubble of that hive that collapsed in Nordafrik.’

‘Kairos,’ said Sarashina with a shudder. ‘I felt its fall. Six million souls buried under the sands. Terrible.’

Athena had been aboard Lemurya, one of the great orbital plates circling Terra, when Kairos hive sank into the desert, but she had felt the aetheric aftershock of its doom like a tidal wave of fear and pain. An empathic shudder of grief pulsed from Sarashina’s aura.

‘The hive’s fall exposed a series of tomb-complexes further west, and among the mortuary carvings were hawks. It’s said that the Gyptians considered the hawk to be a perfect symbol of victory, though they viewed it as a struggle between opposing elemental forces, especially the spiritual over the corrupt, as opposed to physical victory.’

‘And how does that fit within your precept?’ asked Sarashina.

‘I’m getting to that,’ said Athena, pushing a sheet of paper towards her. ‘This is the text of a scroll I copied a few years ago from a deteriorating data-coil recovered from the ruins of Neoalexandria. It’s just a list, a pantheon of old gods, but one name in particular stuck out. Taken together with the amber eyes and the colouring of the hawk’s plumage…’

‘Horus,’ said Sarashina as her finger stopped halfway down the list.

‘Could the hawk with the amber eyes represent the Warmaster and his rebels?’

‘Pass this to the Conduit,’ said Sarashina. ‘Now!’

‘PLEASE,’ SAID PALLADIS. ‘Don’t hurt these people, they have already been through enough.’

Ghota took a step into the temple, his heavy, hobnailed boots sounding like gunshots as he crushed glass and rock beneath them. He swept his gaze around the terrified throng, finally settling on Roxanne. He smiled, and Palladis saw his teeth were steel fangs, triangular like a shark’s.

Ghota pointed at Roxanne. ‘Don’t care about others,’ he said. ‘Just want her.’

The man’s voice was impossibly deep, as though dragged unwillingly from some gravelled canyon in his gut. It sounded like grinding rocks, flat and curiously not echoing from the stone walls of the temple.

‘Look, I know there was some blood spilled, but your men attacked Roxanne,’ said Palladis. ‘She had every right to defend herself.’

Ghota’s head cocked to one side, as though this argument had never been put to him before. It amused him, and he laughed, or at least Palladis guessed that the sound of a mountain avalanche coming from his mouth was laughter.

‘She was trespassing,’ growled Ghota. ‘She needed to pay a toll, but she decided it didn’t apply to her. My men were enforcing the Babu’s law. She broke the law, now she has to pay. It’s simple. Either she comes with me or I kill everyone in here.’

Palladis fought down his rising tension. All it would take would be one person to panic, and this temple would become a charnel house. Maya sheltered her two boys, while Estaben had his eyes closed and muttered something inaudible with his hands clasped before him. Roxanne sat with her head bowed, and Palladis felt her fear hit him like a blow.