Page 114 of Ravenor Omnibus


  So, I sit in the chilly cloisters of the Palace of the Inquisition day after day. I have become used to its menacing, shadowy halls and unforgiving black marble floors. Inquisitorial guardsmen in burgundy armour, carrying their double-handed powerblades upright before them, stalk past from time to time, escorting solemn men and women in grim robes. They pretend not to look at me. They know who I am.

  The rogue, the radical who saved Eustis Majoris by crippling it, and who spared Gudrun by wasting an entire province. Rogue, rogue, rogue.

  I sit and wait for the next session to begin. My elders and betters will determine my fate. I trust they will make a good decision.

  Footsteps approach. I assume it’s Culitch, but then I recognise the limp and the clack of the walking stick.

  ‘Hello,’ says Maud, sitting down on the stone bench beside me. She leans her stick against the armrest. She is young and strong, and still healing. Her arm is in a sling. There is a smile on her face.

  ‘How are we today?’ she asks breezily.

  ‘Fine. Did you find it?’

  She nods. She has papers in her hand. ‘At last. Took me ages. The archives are immense, and I was going back a long way. The prefects thought I was mad to be searching for something so distant and insignificant.’

  ‘But you found it?’

  ‘Of course I did. Say what you like about the Munitorum, but they keep the most thorough records. Besides, I’m a detective. What was that, was that a laugh?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘All right then. Sometimes your voice box makes damn funny sounds.’

  ‘I laughed, Maud.’

  It’s good to have her with me. I appreciate her loyalty. Most of my friends are gone now, some for ever. Nayl said his goodbyes to me two weeks ago. He was bound for Carthe, intending to return Evisorex to the clan. He was brooding and quiet. I doubt he will ever return.

  Zael and Frauka left last week, in the care of Inquisitor Lilith. She took Iosob with her too. They will all be tested and processed. I think Lilith will be compassionate, but I entertain no real hopes of seeing any of them again.

  Kara, my dear Kara, remains under arrest. They are keeping her here, somewhere. Her hearing will follow mine, and I hope by the Emperor’s grace I will be there to testify for her. She doesn’t deserve this.

  Belknap took passage to Eustis Majoris while we were still on Gudrun, the day before I turned myself over to Lilith. There was nothing to be said. He was a noble man, but his heart was broken by the strength of his faith.

  As for Unwerth and Preest, I have had no word from either of them. I wish them well in whatever voyages they undertake.

  And Kys. Kys haunts the dining houses of the hive, loitering quietly waiting for me to be exonerated. I have no idea what she will do if the Inquisition demands my incarceration or death. I wish she would come and see me.

  ‘So d’you want to hear this or not?’ Plyton asks, ‘after all the bloody effort I went to.’

  ‘Tell me, please.’

  She shuffles the papers. ‘Rahjez, Fantomine sub. 404, M.40.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Listening Station Arethusa. Service personnel. Service records for Bashesvili, Ludmilla. It… uhm… it lists her as deceased that year.’

  ‘Was there a raid?’

  ‘No. No actions reported until 405. The records suggest she was—’

  ‘Executed,’ I finish.

  ‘For treason, I think.’

  The ku-kud bristles and whispers. Iosob has opened the door.

  ‘Will you come with us?’ I ask.

  Bashesvili shivers. ‘Oh, no, Gideon, I don’t think so. The far future frightens me. I think I’ll be safer here.’

  ‘I owe you everything. If this works, the far future you’re so unsure of will owe you a great debt too.’

  ‘Go and do what you have to do, Gideon. It sounds important.’

  ‘Goodbye, Ludmilla.’

  I HEAR FOOTSTEPS. It is Culitch. ‘Sir, the hearings are about to recommence. Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes, young man.’

  He walks towards the heavy doors and waits for me to join him. A session bell is ringing

  ‘I’m coming,’ I tell him. ‘Thank you for your work, Maud. I needed to know.’

  Plyton rises, leaning on her stick.

  ‘I’ll wait here until you get out,’ she says.

  THEN

  Sarte Province, Gudrun, 404.M41

  THE LANDER WAS a broken, buckled mass of wreckage. It had impacted in a bare field eighteen kilometres away from the epicentre, cutting itself a sixty-metre long gouge in the earth before coming to rest.

  Steam and smoke rose from the crumpled shape. Right until the last moment, Unwerth had fought to bring them in safely. His skills had prevented them from simply crashing into the ground. Even so, it had not been a comfortable touchdown.

  Most of the passengers were unconscious. Vapour hissed, and lubricant dripped from torn hoses.

  Molotch clambered out onto the dry straw of the field. The crash had broken several of his ribs, and they ground together as he moved.

  ‘Ow,’ he said. ‘Ow, shit. That hurts.’

  He began to stagger away across the parched fields. The sky was a threaded grey of pre-dawn. To the north, where the Kells had once stood, an immense pall of black smoke hung like a shadow.

  RAVENOR CAUGHT UP with him several fields away, near a small wood. The trees in the wood had been stripped of their leaves by the aftershock. Molotch had come to a halt, leaning against the bars of a broken gate. He was breathing hard and clutching his ribs. His face was drawn and bloodless.

  He looked up as Ravenor glided towards him, and laughed sadly. Laughing made him wince.

  ‘I can’t run any more,’ he said, pain colouring his voice.

  ‘That’s good. I’m tired of chasing you.’

  Molotch nodded. ‘This is the inevitable bit we were talking about, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is,’ said Ravenor, and reached out into Molotch’s mind. Zygmunt Molotch did not put up a fight.

  When the others caught up with them, Molotch was lying on the ground beside the gate. Ravenor felt Kys approaching, with Kara close behind her. Behind them, a little further off, Nayl was limping across the stubbled field.

  They drew close and halted, staring at the corpse beside the gate. In death, Molotch seemed a pathetic and insignificant thing, not at all the sort of being that should have required decades of devotion, sacrifice and effort to bring down.

  +I told you closure was overrated.+

  Kara nodded. ‘It’s still closure,’ she said.

 


 

  Dan Abnett, Ravenor Omnibus

 


 

 
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