Lord of the Night

Who, she had very little doubt, had lost his temper.

Mita had been back in Cuspseal for ten hours — much of which had been dedicated to a futile attempt to sleep — and with exhaustion clinging to every fibre she was in no mood for yet another dressing down.

'Get it over with,' she said, not waiting to be addressed.

Several of the retinue exchanged glances. She'd be damned if she'd treat them to another dewy-eyed performance of apology and supplication.

'I beg your pardon?' said Kaustus, fingers steepled. His features were once again concealed within his mask, its gloss accentuated by his exquisite gown of red webbing, and Mita met her own reflected gaze and held it, chin jutting proudly.

'The execution, inquisitor,' she said, refusing to be cowed. 'I've failed you twice. I went against your orders. I'm responsible for the deaths of twenty-one of the Emperor's loyal Preafects and I haven't any wish to be kept waiting for summary exe—'

'Sergeant Varitens tells me that you have identified the killer.'

The defiant bite-back she'd been preparing died in her mouth.

'W... what?'

Kaustus leaned forwards. 'He speaks of an armoured warrior, interrogator. He suggests there is a... how did he put it?... A living blasphemy at large.'

Something a little like triumph planted tenuous roots in her belly.

'I-is that so, my lord?'

'It is. What do you say to that, interrogator?'

She glanced at Varitens, seeking confirmation of his collusion. The man's eyes seemed fixated on the floor, wide with child-like fascination. Like a sword of Damocles, descending to puncture her scant shred of victory, a long cord of spittle parted company with his lip and spattered to the floor. Mita's heart sunk.

'As you can see,' Kaustus added, interrupting her before she could answer, 'the good sergeant required some... calming. He was almost ranting, the poor beast.'

'He's been dragged?'

Kaustus's eyes glimmered within the narrow slats of his mask.

'Not quite. We thought it best to cleanse his mind — and that of the surviving driver — using a more...' he waved a thoughtful hand, '...permanent method.'

Lobotomisation. With such impunity could an inquisitor wipe away a man's thoughts and memories.

'Is that to be my fate, my lord?' she scowled, prideful rebellion sputtering in her belly. 'And Cog's? Our minds stripped away because you refuse to believe the truth?'

For an instant, there was silence.

Then Kaustus moved faster than her eye could follow, and with barely a hiss registering in her ears she found herself spinning in her place, the floor rising to meet her, cheek stinging. When the lights cleared from her eyes she found the inquisitor stood over her and she realised with a thrill that he'd struck her.

So much for the cool, collected Inquisitor Kaustus.

'Your insolence stops here, interrogator,' he said, breathing hard. 'And should I wish it I can command far worse fates than mere lobotomy. This is your last warning.'

'B-but why h—'

'Why have I erased the testimonies of the sergeant and the driver? Use your brain, child! If what they say — if what you say — is correct, then the taint is abroad.'

'So you believe me n—'

'I will not tolerate panic and rumour-mongering, is that clear? This is damage limitation, interrogator. Be grateful I consider you capable of keeping secrets.' He returned to his seat, eyes lowered, adding quietly, 'and yes. Yes, I believe you.'

Mita tottered to her feet, dizzied. Such an uncharacteristic performance from the inquisitor had prompted a chorus of astonished thought from the retinue, and Mita struggled to shut out the psionic clamour.

'So,' Kaustus intoned, returning to his brooding position with fingers toying at his pendant. 'Tell me. What manner of corruption draws me so successfully from my Holy Work?' The boredom in his voice was as theatrical as it was palpable. 'A cult of the Dark Powers? Some mutant animal, perhaps? Or some tainted aristocrat, seeking thrills and kills in the underhive?' He folded his arms. 'Speak, child — I would know the agent of this... distraction.'

Mita squared her shoulders.

'It is a Traitor Space Marine, my lord.'

Uproar.

The retinue dissolved in a froth of gabbled prayers and startled exchanges — outrage clamouring with denial and anger.

Only Kaustus remained silent, and it was only Mita — who regarded his reaction scrupulously — that noted the tightening of his knuckles and the stiffening of his spine.

His eyes burned into her, betraying nothing.

'Impossible!' It was Commander Orodai who first summoned the ire required to speak out, rising to his feet and stabbing an infuriated finger at the floor. The venom in his voice astonished even Mita.

'I won't listen to this!' the commander stormed, arms waving. 'No warpshit daemon ever set foot inside my city, and I won't have some slip of a witch suggesting otherw—'

'It's no daemon!' Mita interrupted, gorge rising. 'It's a Space Marine, you fool! One of our own, fallen from the light. It's more cunning than any daemon!'

'This is intolerable...' Orodai turned to Kaustus with his cheeks burning. 'Are we to listen to these heresies all day?' he snarled. 'Silence your brat before I do it myself!'

He drew his pistol.

Mita's heart skipped.

In the mist of her senses the psychic nebula of Orodai's mind turned black and red, an ugly bruise of murderous intent. She staggered away, a warding hand raised. Her eyes tracked the commander's fist with morbid absorption, every centimetre of the gun's slow ascension like a countdown to thick, endless night.

'Have a care, Orodai.'

The voice seemed to come from far away, and it took Mita's revolving senses an eternity to stabilise, to draw her eyes away from the rising gun, and to note the tip of a sword, paused centimetres short of pricking at Orodai's skin.

'It is unwise to issue orders to an inquisitor,' said Kaustus tiredly, 'or to threaten his flock.'

Mita hadn't even seen him draw the blade.

'I... I...' Orodai seemed torn between outrage and self-preservation, anger and terror jockeying on the surface of his thoughts. Mita allowed herself a tiny smirk, enjoying his dilemma.

'One cannot trust the testimony of a mutant,' the commander said carefully, tone levelled to be as reasonable as possible. The sword did not waver. 'She's probably in league with whatever "taint" she's uncovered, by the Throne!'

'A grave allegation,' Kaustus said. The blade stayed where it was.

Orodai eyed the inquisitor along the sword's edge, lip curling, and abruptly he seemed to sag, shoulders drooping. 'She'd bring down the wrath of the Inquisition on my world...' he said softly, his voice almost plaintive.

'Aaah...' Kaustus lowered the sword with a chuckle, sliding it into its sheath. 'Suddenly it all becomes clear.' His voice was thick with amusement. 'Your objection has more to do with your fear of me than of whatever bogeyman my interrogator has exposed.'

Orodai rallied with the look of man determined to preserve as much dignity as he could, though there was precious little to salvage.

'Your organisation's reputation precedes it,' he snapped, fingers questing for blemishes at his throat. 'I've heard the stories. Worlds virus-bombed on the strength of a single rumour. Whole populations wiped out for fear of one heretic.' His jaw tightened. 'I won't trust the fate of my city to the word of... of...' he glanced across at Mita, searching for some sufficiently derogatory term, settling finally for a derisive: 'that!'

'Nor,' said Kaustus, enjoying every moment, 'would I'

And right on cue the retinue chuckled its vicious amusement. Orodai re-holstered his gun, mollified by the shared ridicule of the psyker, the mutant, the wretched interrogator.