‘Wrong? These traitors have been welcomed amongst these people, and they are guilty by association,’ says Saturnalia. ‘I am a warrior of the Legio Custodes, and my duty is the safety of the Emperor, a duty in which there can be no compromise. Who knows what treachery these men may have already spread among the people of the Petitioner’s City? If we allow any they have touched to live, then their betrayal will fester like a rank weed, drawing nourishment from the darkness and growing even greater and more deeply entrenched.’

‘You can’t know that,’ protests Nagasena.

‘I don’t need to knowit, I just need to believe it.’

‘This is your Imperial Truth?’ asks Nagasena, almost spitting the words.

‘It is just the truth,’ says Saturnalia. ‘Nothing more, nothing less.’

Nagasena’s eyes lock with those of Kartono, but he sees nothing in his bondsman’s eyes that give any clue to his emotions. Clade Culexus saw to that. He grips the tightly-wound hilt of Shoujikiand knows he should walk away, but that would be as good as signing his own death warrant. For good or ill, he is bound to this hunt until its end.

He nods, and hates that Saturnalia and Golovko share the triumphant grins of conspirators.

‘Very well,’ he says. ‘Let us get this over with.’

Before any attack order can be given, Kartono gives a shocked breath of surprise. He consults the imagery on his slate and looks up in confusion.

‘We may have a problem,’ he says, pointing down into the canyon. ‘New arrivals.’

ATHARVA WATCHED TAGORE rise from the bench and walk stiffly across the nave as he made his way towards their gathering. The warrior’s aura blazed with anger, the swirling colours of angry bruises and hot, pumping blood. Just touching that fire enflamed Atharva’s own aggression, and he rose into the lower Enumerations to better control himself.

‘We may have a way off Terra,’ said Asubha as Tagore joined them.

The World Eaters sergeant nodded, his teeth still clenched and his skin drained of colour.

‘How?’ he asked.

‘Tell him,’ said Atharva, gesturing to Palladis Novandio.

‘At the top of this scarp is the dwelling place of Vadok Singh, one of the Emperor’s war masons,’ said Palladis with such bitterness and reluctance that it almost made Atharva flinch. ‘He oversees all aspects of the construction work to the palace, and he likes the high perch.’

‘So?’ demanded Tagore, wearing his impatience like a spiked cloak.

‘The warmason likes to observe some of his grander constructions from orbit,’ clarified Palladis. The man did not want them to leave, and only Atharva’s insight had made him divulge this latest morsel of information.

‘You understand now?’ said Severian.

‘He has an orbit-capable craft?’ demanded Tagore, his anger morphing into interest.

‘He does,’ said Palladis.

‘We can get off world,’ said Subha, punching a fist into his palm.

‘Better,’ said Asubha. ‘If we can get to one of the orbital plates, we can get aboard a warp-capable craft.’

‘So we are agreed?’ said Atharva, with a sidelong glance at Palladis Novandio. ‘We are bound for Isstvan?’

‘Isstvan,’ agreed Tagore.

‘The Legion,’ said Asubha and his brother together.

‘Isstvan it is,’ said Severian. ‘I will find us a way to the warmason’s villa.’

Atharva nodded as the Luna Wolf slipped away into the darkness at the rear of the temple.

‘Where will you go once you are off-world?’ asked Palladis Novandio, unable to mask his disappointment. ‘You would not consider remaining here? Where else should the Angels of Death be but a temple dedicated to its name?’

Tagore rounded on the man and lifted him from his feet.

‘I should kill you now for what you have allowed to take root here,’ snarled the World Eater. ‘You call a building a temple, and people will find gods within it.’

‘What are you talking about, Tagore?’ said Atharva.

Tagore held Palladis Novandio at arm’s length, as though the man carried some virulent infection. ‘He is a promoter of false gods. This is no place of remembrance. It is a fane where the Emperor is held up as some kind of divine being. All this, it is all a lie, and he is its chief prophet. I will kill him and we will be on our way.’

‘No!’ cried Palladis. ‘That’s not what we do here, I promise.’

‘Liar!’ bellowed Tagore, drawing his fist back.

Before Tagore could unleash his killing power, the doors of the temple were flung wide and two enormous figures were silhouetted in the glow of a hundred lamps and flickering torches from outside. Fear billowed in with them on a wave of ash-clogged wind, and Atharva suddenly sensed the predatory minds of hunters beyond the walls of the temple.

He recognised Ghota from the battle outside Antioch’s surgery, but the second warrior took his breath away with his sheer scale.

Enormous beyond even Ghota’s monstrous size, the warrior was taller than Tagore and broader in the shoulder than Gythua had been. He was clad in a suit of burnished war plate the colour of bronze and midnight. Fashioned in a form worn by a band of warriors long dead, he wore the armour as though born to it. At his side was an outdated model of bolter, and across his back was sheathed a vast-bladed sword.

‘I am the Thunder Lord,’ said Babu Dhakal. ‘And you have something I want.’

TWENTY-TWO

Living History

Temple of Blood

A Worthy Foe

THE WARRIOR BEFORE him should not have been possible. His kind were all dead and gone, slain in the last battle of Unity. It was a measure of their heroic sacrifice that they had all died to win the last and greatest victory for the Emperor. Yet here he was, towering and magnificent, terrible and shocking. The skin of his face was grey and dead, his eyes blood red, and his aura too bright to look upon. His presence had a gravity all of its own, demanding all attention and fear.

‘You are Babu Dhakal?’ said Atharva, though the question was unnecessary.

‘Of course,’ said the Thunder Lord.

As though Babu Dhakal and Ghota projected some form of force field before them, every man, woman and child retreated to the back of the temple, huddled in the shadow of the faceless statue. Atharva caught sight of Kai and a blonde-haired woman with a bandanna tied around her temple. He saw what she was immediately, and wanted to smile at the fortune that had sent him an astropath and a Navigator. Truly, the cosmic puzzle of the universe was revealing itself to him little by little.

Tagore bristled at his side, and he felt the spiking anger that threatened to boil over at any minute. Subha and Asubha followed their sergeant’s lead, though their battle-rage was nowhere near as volatile as Tagore’s. He could not sense Severian’s presence, and hoped he had been able to escape the temple already.

‘You killed a warrior of the Legiones Astartes,’ said Tagore, the words a guttural bark towards Ghota. ‘I’ll have your heart for that.’

Ghota grinned and bared his teeth. ‘I beat you once, I can do it again, little pup.’

Babu Dhakal raised a hand to forestall Tagore’s anger.

‘I did not come here to fight you, Legiones Astartes,’ he said. ‘I came to offer you something. Would you be prepared to listen?’

The unexpectedness of the warrior’s words took Atharva by surprise. He had not sensed any desire to parley in Babu Dhakal, but then he could barely stand to turn his psychic senses upon him without fear of being overwhelmed.

‘What is it you want?’ he asked in a voice that didn’t betray his unease.

‘There are men beyond this building who wish to kill you,’ said Babu Dhakal.

‘I know this,’ said Atharva, and Babu Dhakal laughed, the sound turning into a wet, animal gurgle in his ruined throat.

‘You know it because I now allow you to know it,’ said the warrior.