She stepped closer to him, uncoupling the cuff-lock of her carapace unit and removing the glove. With a bare hand, she reached up, and turned his face to look at her. She ran her fingers down his cheek, then traced lines up across his scalp, reading the map of his old scars beneath his hairline.
‘Know that I know this man,’ she said softly. ‘From Herodor. He has remarkable courage, but then so do many of the infamous Ghosts, not least their commander. But in Gol Kolea of Vervunhive, there is a singular strength. A fortitude I’ve seen in only one in every hundred thousand. In you, Sariadzi, that day on Caliber Beach.’
Behind her, the solemn major blushed slightly.
‘And perhaps you, Auerben,’ she added. ‘We have not known each other long, but I sense your potential.’
The woman laughed. The olive skin of her face was marked from collar to cheekbone by an old pyrochemical burn.
‘I’ll see what I can do, my lady,’ said Auerben in a dry rasp.
‘This strength is something I yearn for,’ said the Beati. ‘It is… I can’t describe it. But those I choose to be close to me, those I make my seconds and my instruments, they all have it. And Gol Kolea was, I think, the first instrument I made.’
The Beati looked at Laksheema.
‘You have doubts, lady,’ she said. ‘I see them in you. You are wary.’
‘Major Kolea’s reputation is formidable,’ said Laksheema, ‘but there are concerns that the Ruinous Powers have touched him. Made him a conduit…’
The Beati shook her head.
‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘Well, the darkness has touched him. Burned him. Tormented him. But he is not of its part. The fortitude remains intact. You have no reason to mistrust him.’
She withdrew her hand. Tears were streaming down Gol’s face.
‘I think that will be satisfactory,’ Gaunt said to Laksheema.
The inquisitor paused.
‘I cannot question that verdict, my lord,’ she replied. She wiped the corner of her eye with her knuckle.
‘No apology offered?’ asked Gaunt.
‘She should not apologise for doing her duty,’ said the Beati. She glanced at Laksheema. ‘But Major Kolea should now be taken into your circle of trust.’
Laksheema nodded.
‘Wait outside,’ Gaunt told Laksheema and Grae. As they withdrew, he turned to Kolea.
‘Your mind at rest now?’ he asked.
Kolea nodded.
‘Then go down. See to the company here. See your children.’
Kolea nodded again. ‘Thank you–’ he began to say.
Gaunt shook his head.
‘Get on with you,’ he said.
Kolea smiled, rubbed his reddened eyes vigorously, and walked out.
‘There are things going on here,’ said the Beati. ‘For such great suspicions to exist, for such–’
‘There are,’ said Gaunt. ‘We need to talk. At length.’
He hesitated.
‘I wondered,’ he said. ‘When you came here, I wondered who would be with you. I wondered if Brin–’
She placed a hand on his arm.
‘Brin Milo has gone,’ she said gently. ‘I’m sorry, Ibram. He stood with me during the assault on Oureppan. Brave to the last. He, and many others, including a warrior you know. Holofurnace of the Iron Snakes. It was a hellish fight. We won the day and hurt the Anarch Magister, but they were lost in that struggle. Caught in the warp snare and never recovered.’
The Beati gestured to Sariadzi, who stepped forward with a small bundle wrapped in a khaki ground sheet. She took it and handed it to Gaunt.
‘Just… yesterday?’ Gaunt asked. ‘Milo died yesterday? After all these years, and–’
The Beati nodded. ‘I have not had time to rationalise the loss,’ she said quietly. ‘Brin stood at my side longer than any other. I will grieve when this war permits me space to do so.’
She pressed Gaunt’s hands around the bundle.
‘I felt I should bring these for you,’ she said.
Gaunt looked down, and slowly unwrapped the bundle. It was a set of Tanith pipes, old and worn, the same set Brin Milo had been playing the day Gaunt first met him.
Eight: Deployment
‘Well, Throne be blessed,’ said Blenner. ‘Major Kolea? Back from the dead?’
‘Back from somewhere,’ replied Kolea.
‘Well, welcome anyway,’ said Blenner. He offered up a little shrug, suggesting he was about to give Kolea a brotherly embrace, but Kolea looked distant. Blenner turned the shrug into a smoothing of his tunic, as if that’s all he had intended to do in the first place. ‘Welcome to our new home.’
Kolea glanced around. Blenner was the first person he had encountered since descending to the undercroft.
‘Temporary home,’ he said. ‘Our homes are always temporary.’
‘Well, that’s indeed the truth of it,’ Blenner replied cheerfully. ‘Ever marching on, no bed to call our own. But this is better than some. I recall a billet on Sorclore where the lice, I tell you–’
‘What’s the smell?’ asked Kolea.
‘Yes, there is a smell,’ said Blenner. ‘An aroma. Latrines, I gather. Backing up. It’s the fething weather.’
Kolea glanced around at the whitewashed stonework. The overhead lamps ticked and flickered.
‘And the lights?’
‘Another maintenance issue, I gather.’
‘What are our numbers here?’ Kolea asked. ‘I was told two companies…’
‘Uhm, E Company and V Company, along with the retinue, of course.’
‘And they’re all accommodated? Needs met?’
‘Well, Major Baskevyl has that in hand. That and the maintenance issues. I gather–’
‘You gather?’ asked Kolea. ‘You seem to gather a lot, commissar, but nothing seems gathered to me. You must be one of the ranking officers here. Why aren’t you supporting Bask and getting things fixed?’
Blenner looked stung. ‘I do what I can, major,’ he said, then added, ‘What they’ll let me do.’
‘What does that mean?’
Blenner dropped his gaze and his voice. He seemed miserable. Four women from the retinue went past, carrying baskets of laundry. When Blenner spoke, it had an air of confidentiality.
‘Did you hear about Low Keen?’ he asked.
‘Yes, briefly. Gendler and Wilder. And Ezra.’
‘Well, it’s put a stink on things,’ said Blenner. ‘On me. Just now, I am not regarded with the same warmth as I once enjoyed.’
‘You did your job, didn’t you?’
‘It’s not a popular job. The Belladon–’
‘It’s a dirty job, is what you mean?’
Blenner nodded. Kolea eyed him. He’d never thought Vaynom Blenner much of a soldier, and his lack of discipline made him a poor discipline officer. Kolea suspected he’d only ever become part of the company because he and Gaunt went back. Now Gaunt was elevated above the Tanith, Blenner had no ally to hand, no shadow to lurk in. His chief value had always been his endless cheer and informal conduct, which Kolea had to admit had been an asset to morale at times. Even that seemed dimmed.
‘A dirty job indeed,’ Blenner said.
Kolea felt a pang of pity for the man. Blenner was good for little, but Kolea knew all too sharply what it felt like to lose status and relevance, or at least to stand on the brink of that.
‘Bask doesn’t trust you?’ he asked.
‘No, and I don’t blame him,’ said Blenner. ‘No one seems to. I’m sort of out of the loop a little. Shunned, you might say. Throne knows, I’m–’
He shrugged, as if unwilling to finish any searching self-reflection.
‘Good old Vaynom, you know,’ he said with a half-smile. ‘Good for a laugh. Fond of a drink. Fun to have around until the laughing stops.’
‘Do you know what I think?’ Kolea asked.