‘All right,’ she said. ‘I want the Chiliad’s house swept clean in twenty-four hours, before the companions start picking at our loose threads. Start with Rukhsana. Like I said, she’s covering something. That’s why I sent Boone after her in the first place.’
‘If we find anything, you’ll be the first to know,’ said Soneka.
‘And we can all go and tell Boone together,’ smiled Bronzi.
‘As a matter of interest, do you think Pius is compromised?’ Mu asked. ‘Kaido?’ asked Bronzi. ‘Not for a moment.’
‘And Rukhsana?’ Bronzi shrugged.
Mu turned to go. ‘Oh, Peto,’ she said, ‘your medicae papers not withstanding, are you fit for posting?’
‘We only got the papers to convince Boone,’ said Soneka. ‘I’d actually rather be working.’
She nodded. ‘With Shiban gone, the Clowns need an acting het, especially if we’re about to go in. I’ll get the warrants drawn up, a temporary assignment for you and your bashaws until I can bring in a permanent new het. Maybe you can go up the line and make an overture later today? They desperately need licking into shape before we go hot. There’s—’
‘Fugging Strabo,’ said Soneka, nodding. ‘I know.’
She smiled. ‘Good. Excellent. Well, carry on.’
She walked away, her heels clacking on the cinder roof, and disappeared down the stairwell.
Bronzi looked over at Soneka and grinned. ‘Shiban’s mob. That’s—’
‘Ironic,’ Soneka finished.
Bronzi chuckled and stroked his belly. He looked out from the roof at the distant, hadean vista of Mon Lo.
‘You think we fooled them?’ asked Soneka.
Bronzi held up his hand. The middle and index fingers were crossed.
‘I mean, I’m new to all this,’ said Soneka.
‘I’m hardly a veteran,’ Bronzi replied, ‘but, yes, I think we’re good. We’d better get on with it.’
He turned to go. Soneka put out a hand to stop him. It was his ruined, truncated hand, and for some reason, Bronzi found this terribly telling.
‘I’m not prepared to countenance anything that betrays the geno,’ Soneka said, ‘and absolutely nothing that would hurt Mu.’
‘Then we’re on the same page, aren’t we, Peto?’ said Bronzi. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
IN THE SHUTTERED darkness of his private cell, Dinas Chayne sat in meditation. The cell, deep in the subterranean layers of the palace, was damp and cold, but Chayne had not lit the small iron firebasket, nor any of the tapers.
He liked the cold. The cold had been his friend on Zous as a child warrior, especially during the last, long, hard winter of his thirteenth year. The cold had sharpened his wits, and forced him to steel himself. The cold was a tool that a man, or a boy, could use to temper himself.
Breathing slowly, Chayne took apart the facts, and built them back up one by one. Uxor Saiid. The Alpha Legion. Omegon. The note. His dead Lucifer. The astonishing skill of the elusive spy. The astonishing arrogance of the elusive spy. There, the arrogance suggested that the spy was confident in his cover.
Where does a spy hide? In plain sight. How does he operate? Without drawing attention to himself, by being what he is naturally, to avoid question and comment. The best way of doing that was to be exactly what you claimed to be. It made the cover story so much easier to run.
The best cover a spy could have was to be a spy.
Chayne had already decided to pay a visit to Uxor Saiid. He’d had his men watching her since the Lord Commander’s order, to no great result. Now that Namatjira had sanctioned a security purge, Chayne felt duty bound to stop being reactive and bring her in for interrogation.
The morning briefing would end in thirty minutes. She’d be on her way back to her quarters. He would meet her there in person, and show no mercy. She was the key, somehow. She’d covered something during her meeting with the Lord Commander. She’d covered for someone.
Chayne had photographic recall. Breathing ever more slowly, his heart rate down to an inhuman level, he replayed the moments of the meeting.
‘Rukhsana,’ Namatjira had said. ‘I’m told you were responsible for reconnaissance and scouting at Mon Lo?’
‘That was my role, sir.’
‘You had agents in the field?’
‘I did, Lord Commander,’ Rukhsana had replied. ‘Most of them were long range observers and spotters.’
Namatjira had consulted the data-slate. ‘But you had at least one intelligence officer inside Mon Lo the morning this hubbub began?’ He had waved his hand distractedly in the direction of the window.
Rukhsana had pursed her lips and looked down. ‘Yes, sir, I did. Konig Heniker.’
‘Heniker? Yes, I know him. He’s a reliable man. What happened to him?’
‘He had entered the city covertly once already, sir, and briefed me afterwards. His intelligence was of good quality. He inserted that morning, very early, intending to collect data on the Kurnaul and north wall areas. He never came back.’
‘Ah, I see,’ the Lord Commander had sighed. ‘Thank you, Uxor Rukhsana.’
Dinas Chayne opened his eyes in the dark. It was so obvious, so obvious! He’d been a fool to miss it.
The best cover a spy could have was to be a spy.
There was a knock at the door behind him. He ignored it. His men knew better than to disturb him during meditation.
Another knock came. The alert cursor on the cuff of his armour, stacked on the floor in front of him, began to wink.
‘Who is it?’ Chayne called.
‘Eiman, sir. We have something.’
‘Wait.’
It took forty-six seconds for Dinas Chayne to fully clothe himself in his jet-black armour.
He opened the door. Eiman was outside, along with Treece. They were fully armoured, and stood flanking a nervous young man, the adept from the security post that Chayne had handed the note to the night before.
The adept was clearly terrified at the thought of disturbing a Lucifer Black. ‘Tell me,’ said Chayne.
‘Sir, I have completed the tests you ordered. I have run a comparison check on the handwriting base of all expedition personnel. I have a match, sir. It’s—’
‘Konig Heniker,’ said Chayne.
The adept blinked in astonishment. ‘Yes. How could you possibly know that?’
Chayne pushed the adept out of his way and began to stride along the corridor. Eiman and Treece fell in behind him.
‘Instructions?’ snapped Eiman.
‘Eight men,’ said Chayne. ‘Close down Uxor Saiid’s quarters and bring her to me. Her spy is our spy.’
THEY CROSSED THE upper courts of the palace, through bustling streams of servants carrying sacks of manioc and blondleaf to the kitchens, past a marching band rehearsing on a small quad, past a group of artillery officers being briefed on a sunlit terrace. They hurried up the stairs to Rukhsana’s quarters.
The day’s heat was building, and the warmth was beginning to ooze from the brickwork. Slaves were soaking the reed window screens with water.
They knocked sharply at the door of Rukhsana’s accommodation.
An aide answered the door, and called for her uxor as soon as she saw who it was. Uxor Rukhsana came at once.
‘What’s this about?’ she asked, puzzled.
‘So sorry to disturb you, uxor,’ said Soneka. ‘I think there’s been some kind of clerical glitch. I’ve just been issued temporary command of the Clowns, and I’m on my way up the line to meet with them. The thing is, there’s a been screw up. The warrants I’ve been given say that the Clowns have been transferred to your purview.’
‘That’s not right,’ Rukhsana said. The Clowns come under Honen Mu’s ’cept.’
‘I know, I know,’ said Soneka, shrugging, ‘but she’s off somewhere, and I need to get this sorted urgently. If you wouldn’t mind accompanying me, you could authorise the warrants, and I could get on with my job.’
Rukhsana frowne
d. ‘Soneka isn’t it?’
‘That’s right, uxor.’
‘And Bronzi?’
‘Good day to you, uxor,’ Bronzi smiled.
‘Something’s obviously gone very wrong,’ she said.
‘Would you mind?’ Soneka asked.
‘Of course not,’ she said. She fetched a long desert shawl from the anteroom and told her aides to wait. ‘I’ll be back shortly,’ she said to Tuvi.
The hets escorted Rukhsana along the upper colonnade of the palace, overlooking the terraced yards. The sun was biting through the slow, unwinding clouds.
‘So much confusion these days,’ she said, pulling on her shawl.
‘Oh, it’s terrible,’ Bronzi agreed.
‘It’s the scale of the operation, I suppose,’ Rukhsana said. ‘I sometimes wonder if Tactical and Provisional is entirely on top of the job.’
‘Must be a nightmare, logistically,’ Soneka said pleasantly. ‘Look, I really do appreciate this, uxor.’
‘I heard about the Dancers, het,’ she said. ‘I am truly sorry. They were a great company.’
‘War happens,’ Soneka replied, with an appreciative nod. ‘I’m just glad to be getting back on the horse. Gives me a sense of purpose. Besides, we’re going to need every unit on top form in these coming days, and without Shiban, the Clowns are unravelling.’
‘Peto will whip them into shape,’ Bronzi grinned.
She hesitated. ‘Forgive me, Het Bronzi, I’m not entirely sure why you’re here?’
‘Moral support,’ Bronzi said, making a polite namaste. ‘Peto was anxious about disturbing you this morning.’
She looked at Bronzi, as if not entirely convinced. ‘Strange,’ she began, ‘he doesn’t look like the sort to lack—’
She fell silent. Something had caught her eye. She pushed past them both, went to the stone rail of the colonnade, and gazed down into the terraced yards below.
‘What’s going on down there?’ she asked quietly.
They joined her at the rail, and looked down. Below them, on the far side of the upper yard, eight figures in black armour were hurrying up the staircase to the summit levels, rushing like shadows in the shade of the tiled mantle roof.
‘Some nonsense, I’ll be bound,’ said Bronzi.
‘Those are Lucifer Blacks,’ she said.
‘Yes, I think they are,’ said Soneka. ‘Sorry, could we get along? My driver’s waiting.’
‘They’re heading towards my quarters,’ she said.
‘I don’t think so,’ Bronzi replied confidently. ‘They’re probably responding to an alert from the watch station up in the tower.’
‘No,’ she said, firmly. She turned to stride back the way they’d come. Soneka was blocking her, a calm, reassuring smile on his face.
‘It’s nothing, uxor. Let’s go, shall we?’ he said.
She glanced to her right. Bronzi had closed in too. ‘What is this?’ she asked, realising that she was trapped between two very capable geno hets. Soneka looked at Bronzi. Bronzi nodded quickly. ‘What the hell is this?’ she demanded. ‘Heniker,’ said Soneka. Rukhsana froze.
‘Heniker sent us,’ said Bronzi. ‘The companions are on to you. He sent us to get you out.’
‘Please,’ said Soneka. ‘There’s very little time.’ She stared at them both. ‘Heniker?’ she asked.
Bronzi nodded. Without hesitation, she allowed them to lead her away down the colonnade. The three of them began to run.
TUVI AND THE other girls flinched as the doors to the chamber flew open. Lucifer Blacks burst in, training their weapons.
‘I demand to know—’ Tuvi began.
‘Shut up,’ said one of the companions, pointing his weapon directly at her.
Dinas Chayne entered the room, moving forwards between his braced and aimed men.
‘Rukhsana?’ he asked, his voice issuing from his grim helmet’s loudspeaker. The aides cowered in terror. The youngest of them whimpered.
‘Where?’ Chayne hissed.
They were all too scared to reply. Chayne made a quick gesture, and four of the companions broke forwards to search the adjoining rooms.
Chayne looked directly at Tuvi, who was comforting the youngest aide, a girl, barely thirteen years old.
‘You are the leader. Where is your uxor?’ he asked.
Tuvi swallowed and returned his gaze defiantly.
‘She’s not here,’ Tuvi said. ‘She was called away on geno business.’
‘Called away?’ asked Chayne, taking a step towards her and lowering his weapon.
‘A het came. A het who needed her authorisation or something,’ Tuvi replied.
‘Which het?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Tuvi.
‘It may have been two hets,’ said one of the other girls.
‘It may have been,’ said Tuvi, ‘I didn’t really see.’ Tuvi was an ambitious girl, but she was also careful. Until she understood exactly what was going on, she didn’t want to give out any more information than necessary. Despite her youth and her hunger for command, she also firmly believed in the adage Company first, Imperium second, geno before gene. She had been raised that way.
Chayne reached out with his left hand, and took hold of her face. She moaned quietly and closed her eyes. It looked as gentle as a lover’s touch, but the compression pain he was exerting was immense.
‘How long ago?’ he asked quietly.
‘Ten minutes. N-no more than ten.’
‘Who did she go with?’
The grip had made Tuvi quickly re-evaluate her priorities. ‘S-Soneka,’ she said.
AT GROUND LEVEL, to the east of the palace sprawl, Army pioneers had excavated a deep ramp, and removed the side wall of a giant ceremonial chamber to provide a vast depot for vehicles. The excised wall section had been replaced by load-bearing, pneumolithic girders, and fortified with flakboard and ballistic pumice. Trucks and transports toiled in and out along the ramp all day long in a haze of dust, under the direction of artificer banksmen and other security personnel. The engine fumes gathered in the roof space, slowly sucked away by powerful vent systems that had been bolted under the vaults. Lumen rigs hung from brackets all the way down the chamber. The place echoed with rivet guns and pressure drivers.
‘That one,’ said Bronzi, hurrying back to them. Soneka and Rukhsana came out from behind a turreted trans-trak painted in Thorn livery, and crossed with him to an armoured scurrier dressed in desert pink. Bronzi popped the hatch and they climbed in. Bronzi clambered forwards into the tight cockpit space.
Bronzi had checked the vehicle out for use at the depot station. If he’d used his own biometric key, or Soneka’s, or even the uxor’s, klaxons would have been sounding already. Instead, he’d used the key they had given him.
Soneka closed the hatch behind them, and strapped in beside Rukhsana. She was pale with panic, but containing her agitation.
‘Go, Hurt,’ Soneka said.
Bronzi gunned the engines and brought the scurrier to life. It rose on its twenty sets of calliper legs and spurred forwards, leg units running in syncopation, racing it across the earth floor like a giant centipede.
They passed out under the gate. A banksman flashed their biometric signature, and waved them enthusiastically on with his luminous wand.
They ran up the ramp, followed the rampart wall to the west exit, and headed out into the desert.
THE SCURRIER’S MODE of ambulation provided a soft, rolling sensation of travel, despite the high speeds Bronzi was making across the dunes. The wind was raising a spume of fine dust from the crest of every slope. Bronzi checked the navigation display. It was only a kilometre or two. Not far, not far at all…
‘Is Konig all right?’ Rukhsana asked Soneka.
‘Konig?’
‘Heniker,’ she said.
‘Oh, sorry. I only really know him as Heniker.’
‘Is he all right?’
‘Yes, he’s fine.’
‘Really fine?’
&nb
sp; ‘Yes.’
She thought about that. He could tell she didn’t trust him at all.
‘How are you involved?’ she asked.
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘I think you can,’ she insisted.
‘I can’t, really’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, uxor, it’s an Army intelligence thing.’
She stared at him hard. ‘Army intelligence? Is that so?’
‘Yes.’
‘But—’
‘But what, uxor?’
It wasn’t an Army intelligence thing. It was a Cabal thing. She realised that she was going somewhere to die. She tried to swallow the dry knot in her throat.
‘I’m only doing this because I love him,’ she said.
‘Heniker?’
‘Yes, Heniker.’
‘I didn’t realise,’ Soneka said. He looked bothered and uncomfortable. ‘I’m sorry, I really didn’t. Look, we—’ he began.
‘Get set, we’re there!’ Bronzi called out.
The scurrier rippled down a bank of soft sand into a deep wadi, and came to a halt. The sun was at its zenith, burning like a low-set las. The light was hard and there were no shadows.
‘What were you saying to me?’ asked Rukhsana.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Soneka, ‘that’s all. There’s no time to say anything else. We’re out of time.’
‘So am I, I think,’ she replied.
He watched her as she unbuckled and got up.
‘I never meant to hurt you, Rukhsana,’ he said. ‘Please, this is for the best.’
‘I hope so.’ She smiled at him, a brave, intoxicating smile despite the shadow of terror in her expression. ‘But I don’t hold out much hope,’ she added.
Bronzi opened the hatch, and they climbed out into the baking hole of the wadi basin. There was no one around. Bright sunlight burned the sand and the tops of their heads.
‘Come on,’ said Bronzi, glancing around impatiently.
‘While we’re waiting,’ said Rukhsana, ‘why don’t you explain that lie you sold me? As a last favour, so to speak. I’d like to know what I’m getting into. Tell me about Konig. How do you know Konig?’
‘It’s like I said,’ Bronzi replied, awkward and unsettled.
‘Oh, Hurtado, please credit me with some intelligence,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing like you said.’