‘Welcome back to Therion, my son,’ declared the Caesari, embracing Marcus tightly.
‘Do not hoard him to yourself,’ said Juliana, the Caesari’s wife. She prised her husband’s arms from her son and replaced them with her own, planting an audible kiss on the praefector’s cheek.
‘I have important news,’ said Marcus, freeing himself from his mother’s grip.
Pelon glanced over the balcony to see that the party-goers were all paying attention to what passed amongst the ruling family: glasses were held halfway to lips, conversations had dried away.
‘Get yourself a drink, Marcus,’ said Antonius, the younger of the Caesari’s two sons. He looked like a fairer-headed version of his older brother, save for the pockmark of a bullet scar on the right side of his chin. ‘Why so glum?’
‘Yes, son, settle and tell us what you’ve been up to,’ said Juliana, lifting up a wineglass from a shelf set upon the balustrade. ‘It’s been such a long time.’
‘Horus has rebelled against the Emperor.’
The praefector’s blurted words carried far across the conservatory, hushing the few discussions that had continued. From below came the clatter of metal and shattering of glass as a servant spilled his tray in shock.
‘What did you say?’ demanded the Caesari. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The Sons of Horus are traitors,’ said Marcus. He snatched the glass from his mother’s hand with trembling fingers and swallowed the contents. When he continued, it was in a whisper. ‘The Warmaster seeks to overthrow the Emperor. Many of the Legiones Astartes have sided with Lupercal. There is going to be civil war.’
‘This must be a mistake,’ said Juliana. ‘Perhaps some of his Legion, but Horus himself…’
‘What of the Raven Guard?’ asked the Caesari.
‘This makes no sense,’ said Antonius. ‘Are you sure?’
‘It happened at Isstvan,’ said the praefector, the muscles in his jaw clenching at the memory. ‘I saw what happened. I and a handful of others are all that remains of the Therion Cohort. The Raven Guard, they are loyal. Lord Corax sent me here. They were all but destroyed, and it looks as if the traitors finished the job on the Salamanders and Iron Hands.’
The Caesari slumped back onto his couch, face as white as snow, mouth open in dumb shock. Pelon heard the chattering on the main floor and saw some of the guests heading towards the doors. He cautiously tugged at the elbow of his master’s coat.
‘Praefector, might I make a suggestion?’
‘Be quiet, Pelon,’ said Marcus, pulling away his arm.
‘Some of the guests are leaving,’ Pelon said, pointing across the conservatory. ‘Rumours, master, can be damaging.’
‘Your man’s right,’ said Antonius. He turned to the Caesari. ‘Father, if this news spreads in the wrong way, it will cause hysteria and panic.’
The Caesari beckoned with a raised hand and his chief counsellor, Tribune Pellis, rose from his seat at the far end of the gallery.
‘Nobody is to leave yet,’ said Valentinus. ‘Confiscate all personal communication devices. Not until we’ve drafted an official proclamation. That includes servants. Have the veterans stationed at every exit, I want nobody coming in or out until I say otherwise.’
Pellis nodded wordlessly and withdrew. The Caesari was recovering from the shock and stood up. He gave Marcus a troubled glance and then began to pace, circling around the couch.
‘I assume Corax sent you to raise a new Cohort,’ he said, receiving a nod of affirmation from his son. ‘Manpower shouldn’t be a problem, we’ve been turning away volunteers for the last two years. We’ll need ships to replace the losses, though.’
‘Natol Prime, there’s a fleet there,’ said Antonius. ‘Old ships, returning with the Natol regiments, but they’ll serve well enough if you send word to the council there.’
‘Yes, and we can get help from the forge-world at, oh, what’s the damned place called?’
‘Some of the Mechanicum have allied with Horus,’ Marcus said before the question could be answered. ‘You mean Beta Cornix, father. Best to make sure which side they are on before you go to them.’
The Caesari stopped in his tracks and was again struck dumb for a moment with distress at this news, his expression almost imploring his son to retract what he had said. The unease passed in a few seconds and the Caesari continued his striding.
‘That will make weapons acquisition a problem,’ said Valentinus.
‘The forges of Kiavahr can supply any shortfall,’ said the praefector.
‘Good, good. I’ll have Pellis start the muster first thing in the morning. We can sort out the details once the initial orders have been despatched.’ The Caesari stopped and gripped the rail. Below, servants were herding the guests towards the main building, corralling them like hippocants. A musician protested loudly as he was manhandled from the stage, waving his lyrepipe above his head like a regimental banner. ‘Anything else we need to decide now?’
‘The commander,’ said Juliana. ‘You’re not leaving Therion to go running off to war, not at a time like this.’
The Caesari’s expression sagged with disappointment as he nodded. His lips twitched for a second or two while he considered the problem. Valentinus smiled and looked at Marcus again.
‘Well, no need to look too far, is there, my son?’ said the Therion ruler. He slapped a hand to the praefector’s shoulder. ‘You know more about what is happening than any of us. You can lead the Cohort.’
‘I am honoured, father, but I am only a praefector,’ said Marcus.
‘Nonsense. I’m in charge. You’re vice-Caesari now. Full authority. Antonius will take over as praefector.’
Marcus shook his head in disbelief, mouth opening and closing several times before he remembered his station. He dropped to one knee and took his father’s hand, kissing the knuckles.
‘I will serve,’ he said, speaking the oathwords of the Cohort. ‘For the Emperor above all others. For Therion and Enlightenment.’
Pelon suppressed a smile. Being servant to a praefector was one thing, being aide to a vice-Caesari was something far grander. If he was lucky, and he could see no reason why he didn’t deserve a piece of luck, he might even be made a sub-tribune to recognise his status.
‘Ensure your master’s rooms are ready,’ Juliana said to Pelon. ‘Without warning of his arrival, I have no idea what state they are in.’
With a bow, Pelon accepted the slight admonishment and withdrew. Even as a sub-tribune he would still have to fold down the sheets. It gave him comfort to think that there were some things in life that even the treachery of a Warmaster could not change.
ELEVEN
Rebirth Begins
Unauthorised Transmission
Doubts Arise
THE BEEPS OF the machines and background thrum of energy cables triggered a sense of comfort in Corax as he stepped into the sterile chamber of the new gene-tech facility. Centrifuges whirred and servitors plodded from work station to work station with samples and tests. Vincente Sixx, divested of his armour, sat at a bank of five screens, data tables and helical displays large on the monitors.
At a long table covered with data tablets and instrumentation, Nexin Orlandriaz pored over a transparent sheet, idly tapping the fingers of his free hand against an empty crucible. Sixx looked over his shoulder as Corax strode across the tiled floor. Orlandriaz was too absorbed in his work to notice the arrival of the primarch.
The thud of the servitor’s metal-shod feet disturbed the peace, the clacking of a crude teleprinter burst into life as an analyser spewed out its latest findings. On closer inspection, the room was balanced on the line between order and anarchy. Sixx’s area was tidy, disciplined and compact, while the magos’s work sprawled over several desktops and was piled on trolleys left haphazardly around the tech-priest’s high stool.