False Gods

'It's not superstition to believe in a god, Ignace,' said Euphrati, holding out another of the Lectitio Divinitatus pamphlets. 'Look, read this and then make up your mind.'

'I don't need to read it,' he snapped, throwing the pamphlet to the deck. 'I know what it will say and I'm not interested.'

'But you have no idea, Ignace. It's all so clear to me now. Ever since that thing attacked me, I've been hiding. In my billet and in my head, but I realise now that all I had to do was allow the light of the Emperor into my heart and I would be healed.'

'Didn't Mersadie and I have anything to do with that?' sneered Karkasy. 'All those hours we spent with you weeping on our shoulders?'

'Of course you did,' smiled Euphrati, coming forward and placing her hands on his cheeks. 'That's why I wanted to give you the message and tell you what I'd realised. It's very simple, Ignace. We create our own gods and the blessed Emperor is the Master of Mankind.'

'Create our own gods?' said Karkasy, pulling away from her. 'No, my dear, ignorance and fear create the gods, enthusiasm and deceit adorn them, and human weakness worships them. It's been the same throughout history. When men destroy their old gods they find new ones to take their place. What makes you think this is any different?'

'Because I feel the Emperor's light within me.'

'Oh, well, I can't argue with that, can I?'

'Spare me your sarcasm, Ignace,' said Euphrati, suddenly hostile. 'I thought you might be open to hearing the good word, but I can see you're just a close-minded fool. Get out, Ignace, I don't want to see you again.'

Thus dismissed, he'd found himself outside in the companionway alone, bereft of a friend he'd only just managed to make. That had been the last time she'd spoken to him. He'd seen her only once since then, and she had ignored his greeting.

'Lost in thought, Ignace?' asked Mersadie Oliton, and he looked up in surprise, shaken from his miserable reverie by her sudden appearance.

'Sorry, my dear,' he said. 'I didn't hear you approach. I was miles away, composing another verse for Captain Loken to misunderstand and Sindermann to discard.'

She smiled, instantly lifting his spirits. It was impossible to be too maudlin around Mersadie, she had a way of making a man realise that it was good to be alive.

'Solitude suits you, Ignace, you're far less susceptible to temptation.'

'Oh I don't know,' he said, holding up the bottle of wine. 'There's always room in my life for temptation. I count it a bad day if I'm not tempted by something or other.'

'You're incorrigible, Ignace,' she laughed, 'but enough of that, what's so important that you drag me away from my transcripts to meet here? I want to be up to date by the time the speartip gets back from the moon.'

Flustered by her directness, Karkasy wasn't sure where to begin and thus opted for the softly-softly approach. 'Have you seen Euphrati around recently?'

'I saw her yesterday evening, just before the Storm-birds launched. Why?'

'Did she seem herself?'

'Yes, I think so. I was a little surprised by the change in her appearance, but she's an imagist. I suppose it's what they do every now and again.'

'Did she try to give you anything?'

'Give me anything? No. Look, what's this all about?'

Karkasy slipped a battered pamphlet across the table towards Mersadie, watching her expression change as she read it and recognised it for what it was.

'Where did you get this?' she asked when she'd finished reading it.

'Euphrati gave it to me,' he replied. 'Apparently she wants to spread the word of the God-Emperor to us first because we helped her when she needed support.'

'God-Emperor? Has she taken leave of her senses?'

'I don't know, maybe,' he said, pouring himself a drink. Mersadie pushed over a glass and he filled that too. 'I don't think she was over her experience in the Whisperheads, even if she made out that she was.'

'This is insane,' said Mersadie. 'She'll have her certification revoked. Did you tell her that?'

'Sort of,' said Karkasy. 'I tried to reason with her, but you know how it is with those religious types, never any room for a dissenting opinion.'

'And?'

'And nothing, she threw me out of her billet after that'

'So you handled it with your usual tact then?'

'Perhaps I could have been more delicate,' agreed Karkasy, 'but I was shaken to know that a woman of intelligence could be taken in by such nonsense'

'So what do we do about it?'

'You tell me. I don't have a clue. Do you think we should tell someone about Euphrati?'

Mersadie took a long drink of the wine and said, 'I think we have to.'

'Any ideas who?'

'Sindermann maybe?'

Karkasy sighed. 'I had a feeling you were going to suggest him. I don't like that man, but he's probably the best bet these days. If anyone can talk Euphrati around it's an iterator.'

Mersadie sighed and poured another couple of drinks. 'Want to get drunk?'

'Now you're talking my language,' said Karkasy.

They swapped stories and memories of less complicated times for an hour, finishing the bottle of wine and sending a servitor to fetch more when it ran out. By the time they'd drained half the second one, they were already planning a great symphonic work of her documentarist findings embellished with his verse.

They laughed and studiously avoided any talk of Euphrati Keeler and the betrayal they were soon to visit upon her.

Their thoughts were immediately dispelled as chiming alarm bells rang out, and the corridor beyond began to fill with hurrying people. At first, they ignored the noise, but as the number of people grew, they decided to find out what was going on. Picking up the bottle and glasses, Karkasy and Mersadie unsteadily made their way to the hatchway where they saw a scene of utter bedlam.

Soldiers and civilians, remembrancers and ship's crew, were heading for the embarkation decks in a hurry. They saw faces streaked with tears, and huddled weeping figures consoling one another in their shared misery.

'What's going on?' shouted Karkasy, grabbing a passing soldier.

The man rounded on him angrily. 'Get off me, you old fool.'

'I just want to know what's happening,' said Karkasy, shocked at the man's venom.

'Haven't you heard?' wept the soldier. 'It's all over the ship.'

'What is?' demanded Mersadie.

'The Warmaster…'

'What about him? Is he alright?'

The man shook his head. 'Emperor save us, but the Warmaster is dead!'

The bottle slipped from Karkasy's hands, shattering on the floor, and he was instantly sober. The Warmaster dead? Surely, there had to be some kind of mistake. Surely, Horus was beyond such concerns as mortality. He faced Mersadie and could see exactly the same thoughts running through her head. The soldier he'd stopped shrugged off his grip and ran down the corridor, leaving the two of them standing there, aghast at such a horrific prospect. 'It can't be true,' whispered Mersadie. 'It just can't be.'

'I know. There must be some mistake.'

'What if there isn't?'

'I don't know,' said Karkasy, 'but we have to find out more.'

Mersadie nodded and waited for him to collect the Bondsman before they joined the hurrying throng as it made its mob-like way towards the embarkation decks. Neither of them spoke during the journey, too busy trying to process the impact of the Warmaster's death. Karkasy felt the muse stir within him at such weighty subject matter, and tried not to despise the fact that it came at such a terrible time.

He spotted the corridor leading to the observation deck adjacent to the launch port from where Stormbirds could be seen deploying, or returning. She resisted his pull until he explained his plan.