“Nor did I take it as one. But you are a political animal, aren’t you, Gaunt?”
“I am a colonel of the Imperial Guard. A warrior for the almighty Emperor, praise His name. My politics extend as far as raising troop morale, no further.”
Chass nodded. “Walk with me,” he said.
They moved through a grove of platinum trees heavy with brass oranges. Frills of wire-lace creepers were soldered to the burnished trunks. Beyond the grove, crossing iron lawns that creaked under their footsteps, they walked down a row of bushes with broad, inlaid leaves of soft bronze.
“I suppose my daughter has been bending your ear with warnings about my liberal ways?”
“You are correct, lord.”
Chass laughed. “She is hugely protective of me. She thinks I’m vulnerable.”
“She said as much.”
“Indeed. Let me show you this.” Chass led Gaunt into a maze of hedges. The hedgerows crackled with energised life, like veils of illusions.
“Fractal topiary,” Chass said proudly. “Mathematical structures generated by the stem-forms of the cogitators planted here.”
“It is a wonder.”
Lord Chass looked around at Gaunt. “It leaves you cold, doesn’t it, Gaunt?”
“Cold is too strong a word. It leaves me… puzzled. Why am I here?”
“You are an unusual officer, Gaunt. I have studied your record files carefully.”
“So have the housemaids,” Gaunt said.
Chass snorted, taking a cropping wand from his belt. He began to use it to shape the glowing, fractal hedges nearby. “For different reasons, I assure you. The maids want husbands. I want friends. Your record shows me that you are a surprisingly moral creature.”
“Does it?” Gaunt watched the noble trim the light-buds of the bush, disinclined to speak further.
“True to the Imperial Cause, to the crusade, but not always true to your direct superiors when those motives clash. With Dravere on Menazoid Epsilon, for example. With our own General Sturm on Voltemand. You seek your own way, and like a true commissar you are never negligent in punishing those of your own side who counter the common good.”
Gaunt looked out across the vast hive below them. “Another sentence or two and you’ll be speaking treason, Lord Chass.”
“And who will hear me? A man who roots out treason professionally? If I speak treason, Gaunt, you can kill me here.”
“I hope we can avoid that, lord,” Gaunt said quietly.
“So do I. From the incident in the Privy Council the other day, I understand you do not agree with General Sturm’s tactical plan?”
Gaunt’s measured nod spoke for him.
“We have something in common then. I don’t agree with House Sondar’s leadership either. Sondar controls Croe and Anko is its lapdog. They will lead us to annihilation.”
“Such machinations are far above me, Lord Chass,” Gaunt pointed out diplomatically.
Chass wanded the hedge again. He was forming a perfect Imperial eagle from the blister-tendrils of light. “But we are both affected. Bad policy and bad leadership will destroy this hive. You and I will suffer then.”
Gaunt cleared his throat. “With respect, is there a point to this, Lord Chass?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. I wanted to speak with you, Gaunt, get the measure of you. I wanted to understand your inner mind and see if there was any kindred flame there. I have a great responsibility to Vervunhive, greater than the leadership of this noble house. You wouldn’t understand and I’m not about to explain it. Trust me.”
Gaunt said nothing.
“I will preserve the life of this hive to my dying breath—and beyond it if necessary. I need to know who I can count on. You may go now. I will send for you again in time. Perhaps.”
Gaunt nodded and turned away. The Imperial eagle in the fractal topiary was now complete.
“Gaunt?”
He turned back. Lord Chass reached into his waist-sack and pulled out a rose. It was perfect, made of steel, just budding and faintly edged with rust. The silver stem was stiff and aluminium thorns split out of it.
Chass held it out.
“Wear this for honour.”
Gaunt took the metal rose and hooked it into the lapel of his jacket, over his heart.
He nodded. “For honour, I’ll wear anything.”
Chass stood alone as Gaunt threaded his way out of the metal garden and departed. Chass remained stationary in thought for a long time.
“Father?” Merity appeared out of the brass-orange grove.
“What did you make of him?”
“An honourable man. Slightly stiff, but not shy. He has spirit and courage.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Can we trust him?”
“What do you think?”
Merity paused, stroking the fractal blooms absently.
“It’s your choice, master of our house.”
Heymlick Chass laughed. “It is. But you like him? That’s important. You asked me to keep you informed.”
“I like him. Yes.”
Chass nodded. He took the amulet from the waist sack where it had been all the time, buried in the garden scraps.