'I suppose,' said Nisato, 'but—'
'But nothing,' snapped Pascal. 'This was our world. We were loyal to the Golden Throne, but Barbaden wouldn't listen to us. He killed our leaders and butchered our soldiers. What kind of people would we have been if we hadn't resisted? And don't pretend you're better than me, enforcer. I can't imagine that your hands are any less bloody than mine. How many terrified soldiers have knelt before you, begging for their lives before you shot them in the name of the Emperor? Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands even?'
Nisato rounded on Pascal Blaise, his anger rising with every accusation hurled in his face.
'Yes, I've killed men too,' he snarled, 'and every one of them deserved his fate. They had faltered in their service to the Emperor.'
'Then perhaps we are not so different after all,' said Pascal. 'Perhaps right and wrong are just matters of perspective.'
Nisato sighed, the anger draining from him as the truth of Pascal Blaise's words sank in. He sighed and sat next to Mesira, running a protective hand through her hair.
'There is no right or wrong in our professions,' said Nisato. 'The present changes the past from moment to moment. We can only pray for the future to vindicate our actions.'
Mesira looked up at him, smiling. 'I'm not afraid any more,' she said.
'No?'
She shook her head. 'No. All these years I've lived with what I saw, what I allowed to happen. Now it's over. He's coming for me and I'll be at peace.'
'I won't let anyone harm you,' said Nisato, 'I promise.'
Mesira smiled and Daron Nisato had never seen her more beautiful. The cares and troubles she had worn like a second skin fell away, leaving her luminous, as though a gentle light shone within her bones.
'You don't have to worry about me, Daron,' said Mesira. 'It's going to be all right.'
'I hope so.'
She leaned over and kissed his cheek, the touch of her lips on his skin electric, sending a pleasurable, warm sense of peace through him. 'You are a good man, Daron, better than you know.'
Mesira Bardhyl stood, taking his hand, and he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. She reached out to take the hand of Pascal Blaise and said, 'If this world is to survive, then it will be men like you that will save it. You have both done terrible things in your lives, but they are in the past. All that matters now is the future. Old hatreds must be put aside and new bonds forged between the people of this world. Do you understand?'
Nisato looked from Mesira to Pascal. Her words were like a cool stream that washed him from his decaying suit of skin to the very core of his marrow. Was this some psyker magic? Had whatever madness possessed her to wander naked from her home unlocked yet more powers within her?
Whatever flowed from Mesira, he could feel no evil within it and let its healing light bathe him with its restorative powers.
'I understand,' he said, seeing the same illumination within Pascal Blaise. Without knowing how, he knew that they would both be changed forever by this contact.
Mesira released their hands and Nisato felt a sting of disappointment at the withdrawal of her touch.
The door opened behind her and Cawlen Hurq reentered the room, a rifle slung over his shoulder, and the pistol, which Nisato had returned to him before he'd left, clutched in his fist. Nisato felt nothing for Hurq; not hate, not fear, nothing. It was as if all the rancour and posturing that had passed between them had been erased.
'Cawlen,' said Pascal, taking a moment to recover from the contact with Mesira. 'How many men have we got here?'
'Including us, eight,' said Hurq, 'but I've sent the word out and there'll be others arriving soon. What are we expecting? Falcatas?' The man's tone was eager and Nisato felt pity for him, so caught up in his hatred was he.
'No, I don't think so,' said Pascal. 'I'm not sure exactly, but stay alert.'
Nisato took Mesira's hand and followed Pascal Blaise as he made his way towards the door. She took his hand willingly and together they descended the stairs he had climbed earlier that evening.
Cawlen Hurq pushed open the door to the bar and they entered the smoky, sweat-pit of the common area. The heat and stench of the place took Nisato's breath away, despite him only having left it recently.
Heads rose from drinks as they entered the room, and Nisato felt acutely vulnerable, more than he had when he'd first arrived. Then he only had his own safety to worry about, but now he had to keep Mesira safe from whatever force she believed was coming to claim her. Beyond that, he now felt responsible for Pascal Blaise's safety, which was stupid, for he had armed men in the bar and, if Hurq was to be believed, there were more on the way.
The armed men he had spotted on his arrival made their way through the bar towards them, and the crowded drinkers made way for them without complaint. Nisato caught snatches of conversation as they made their way through the throng.
News of the attack on the Screaming Eagles' compound had reached the bar and Nisato was surprised to see fearful looks being cast towards Pascal Blaise.
'What's going on?' he said, drawing level with Blaise. 'Why do I get the feeling these people would as soon lynch you as look at you?'
'They're afraid,' said Pascal over his shoulder.
'Of what?'
'Reprisals,' replied Pascal. 'They think we hit the Screaming Eagles and they're afraid of what Barbaden will do in response. I told you I was tired of the killing. Well, I'm not the only one.'
Nisato saw it now, the fear and tiredness in every face. It was a tiredness he could understand. He looked back into Mesira's face and smiled. She moved gracefully through the crowded bar and all who looked upon her seemed touched by the same balm that had eased their troubled souls upstairs.
She was a calming ripple in a pond, the soothing wind that cools the day.
Nisato reluctantly tore his gaze from her as Pascal Blaise placed a hand on his shoulder.
'Wait. Let Cawlen's men check outside first.'
Nisato nodded and pulled Mesira close. Over the hushed babble of conversation, he could hear strange sounds from beyond the steel door of the bar, a mingled din of distant rumbling engines and heavy thuds.
He started as he heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire and an awful, blood-chilling roar of animal hunger. The sound echoed inside the bar and every head turned towards them.
'What the hell was that?' said Cawlen Hurq. More gunfire sounded, followed by shrieks: horrible, agonising shrieks and bellowing roars, and wet sounds like tearing cloth and snapping wood.
Hurq backed away from the door, his face fearful. That fear was contagious. People began to shout and, as yet another monstrous roar echoed within the bar, panic took hold. Men and women pushed one another aside in their haste to escape the bar, heading for back doors or windows that led away from the source of the terrible roars.
Nisato drew his pistol as another roar sounded, this time from right on the other side of the door. The noise was deafening and a sickening, rotten meat smell was forced inside the bar by a heaving, noxious breath.
'Let's find another way out of here,' hissed Pascal.
'Yes,' agreed Nisato, pulling Mesira with him.
Cawlen Hurq followed them and as Nisato risked a glance over his shoulder, the front of the bar was ripped upwards. Corrugated sheets of metal flew off into the night and the door crumpled inwards under a terrifyingly powerful impact. Metal screamed and buckled, and the iron girder that served as a lintel was ripped upward and tossed away as easily as a dog would discard a chewed bone.
Hot air blasted into the bar and the animal reek of spoiled meat became unbearable.