Rawne turned and saw Curth waiting.
‘Ready to go?’ he asked.
‘Honestly,’ she said, ‘I’d be happier going with Pasha’s formation. It’s bound to get ugly.’
‘Pasha will have Kolding and the corpsmen,’ said Rawne. ‘Besides, this isn’t about your preference. I gave you an order.’
‘You did.’
‘No disrespect to Kolding, but I think you’re the only one who can get them to the palace alive.’
‘You’re probably right.’
‘Now, about an escort,’ he said.
Curth shook her head. ‘You need everyone you can get. Don’t waste anyone on a guard duty. We can get there.’
He looked at her.
‘I’m serious,’ she said. ‘We’re making a run to the palace through what should be friendly territory. We’re not heading into danger. You are.’
‘All right,’ he said.
Curth turned away, then looked back at him, wiping rain off her face.
‘I don’t know what this is about,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what you’re getting into…’
‘Join the club,’ Rawne replied.
She rested her hand on his arm gently.
‘Just don’t die,’ she said.
‘I’ll see how that goes,’ he replied.
She turned and walked back to the waiting transports.
‘Start them up!’ he heard her shout.
The heat was fierce. Jan Jerik could feel the sweat pooling in his boots. He paused, wiping the visor of his mask, to check the duct number stencilled on the wall.
‘This way,’ he said, his voice muffled.
There was a junction ahead. The main shaft of the vent continued north-west. To the left was a grating mouth that had rusted open. The geotherm network had been built a long time ago, and the secondary ducts were not well-maintained. Only the grates of the principal ducts still operated, opening and closing huge iris valves in response to over- and under-pressure demands.
Jan Jerik sloshed to a halt in the soup of mineral swill that flowed along the base of the duct. He raised his lantern, and the light illuminated the old grating through the rolling steam.
‘Here is your division,’ he said.
Corrod and Hadrel stepped forward. The sirdar consulted his chart. Jan Jerik could hear the wet, rasping respiration of their mucus-thick snouts.
‘This runs to the secondary?’ Corrod asked him.
‘All the way,’ Jan Jerik nodded.
Corrod and Hadrel faced each other.
‘Select your team,’ Corrod said.
Hadrel nodded, and began pointing at packsons in the line behind him. Seven of the Archenemy warriors split from the main group and came to stand with Hadrel.
‘He dies,’ said Corrod.
‘He dies,’ Hadrel agreed.
They both raised a palm to their mouths in a brief salute.
Corrod turned to Jan Jerik.
‘The main duct takes us to the primary?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said Jan Jerik. ‘I’ll show you–’
‘No,’ said Corrod. ‘You, and your men, you are no longer needed. We will find the way from here.’
‘But we’ve not yet–’ Jan Jerik began.
‘Go back. You’ve done your part. Forget us. Say nothing. If the warp approves our endeavour, then we will return, and the voice of our lord will reward those who have served him in this. The courage of House Ghentethi will not be forgotten.’
‘Well,’ the ordinate wavered. ‘His voice… his voice drowns out all others.’
‘Go back now,’ said Corrod.
Jan Jerik nodded. He signalled his men and they began sloshing their way back down the line, returning the way they had come. He looked over his shoulder, and saw Hadrel leading his team into the rusted grating.
He kept walking. At every step, he expected Corrod’s daemon-men to fall on him from behind, to butcher him and his subordinates to ensure their silence.
No strikes came, but he would never shake the feeling of death at his heels, not for the rest of his life.
He looked back again. Through the darkness and steam, neon eyes watched his departure.
‘You’re all right then?’ Kolea asked.
‘Yes,’ Dalin nodded. ‘You?’
‘It’s been eventful,’ said Kolea. ‘Yoncy?’
‘She’s around here somewhere,’ said Dalin. ‘She’s a little shaken.’
‘I’d like to see her,’ said Kolea. ‘She’ll be scared, especially as Tona’s not here. Look…’
‘What?’
Kolea looked uncomfortable. ‘Dal, I’ve… I’ve never been much of a father to you, to either of you–’
Dalin laughed and held up a hand. ‘Seriously?’ he said. ‘Where’s all this sentimental crap coming from? This isn’t the time or the place, and it probably never will be. We’re Ghosts. This is our life–’
‘I just wanted to say–’ Kolea insisted, quietly urgent.
‘You don’t need to,’ said Dalin. ‘What’s brought this on? It’s not the end of the world… well, no more than it ever is.’
Kolea smiled. ‘Things just don’t get said, you know?’ he replied. ‘Not the things that matter. It’s always too late. A day goes by and suddenly, someone’s not there to speak to any more. So many times over the years, I’ve realised it’s too late to talk to somebody.’
‘Are you expecting to die?’ Dalin asked.
‘No.’
‘Are you expecting me to die?’
‘No,’ said Kolea. He shrugged. ‘My mind’s been a jumble for a few weeks now. Gaunt helped me get it straight. Yoncy’s really all right?’
‘Seems to be.’
‘Dal, have you ever thought there’s something different about her?’
‘She’s my sister. She drives me mad.’
‘I’d better find her,’ said Kolea. ‘She’ll probably hear me out with more patience than you.’
‘Look, I appreciate what you were trying–’
‘Dal, feth take the sentiment of it, I want you to know… you and your sister… I’d walk into hell for you both. I mean it. While there’s breath in me, I’ll stand between you and anything–’
‘I know,’ said Dalin.
‘Good then.’
‘Can we go back to being normal now? This is awkward.’
Kolea laughed.
‘Gol!’ Baskevyl’s voice echoed down the hallway. Kolea turned and, past two Munitorum workmen rolling out flexible piping for a pump unit, he saw Baskevyl wave to him and brandish a bottle.
‘Come and join us!’ Baskevyl called out.
Kolea shrugged a ‘maybe’.
‘Go on,’ said Dalin. ‘Do you good. I’ll go and find Yoncy and bring her round to you.’
‘All right. I really want to see her.’
Fazekiel appeared, striding down the hallway, stepping neatly over the unrolling pipes.
The smell hasn’t got any better, then?’ she said.
‘They’re working on it,’ said Kolea.
‘Nice to have you back, major,’ she said. ‘Trooper Dalin?’
‘Yes, ma’am?’
‘I’d like some time with you. In half an hour or so?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Concerning?’
‘The incident at the billet. You were the last one with… Felyx before the attack.’
‘Is she all right?’ Dalin asked. ‘Merity, I mean?’
‘She seems fine.’
‘I’ve got an errand to run. Half an hour, then?’
Fazekiel nodded. The three of them went their separate ways.
In a side room nearby, Meryn leaned against the cold stone wall beside the open door.
‘She’s relentless,’ he said quietly.
Blenner didn’t reply. He sat on the dirty cot, and knocked back a pill with a swig of Meryn’s amasec.
‘That’s right,’ said Meryn. ‘You swallow it. Keep calm.’