Informal formalities
The war dogs' rebuke
I can't say
IT WAS A little cruel, in Loken's opinion. Someone, somewhere - and Loken suspected the scheming of Maloghurst - had omitted to tell the officers of the 140th Expedition Fleet exactly who they were about to welcome on board.
The Vengeful Spirit, and its attendant fleet consorts, had drawn up majestically into high anchorage alongside the vessels of the 140th and the other ships that had come to the expedition's aid, and an armoured heavy shuttle had transferred from the flagship to the battle-barge Misericord.
Mathanual August and his coterie of commanders, including Eidolon's equerry Eshkerrus, had assembled on one of the Misericord's main embarkation decks to greet the shuttle. They knew it was bearing the commanders of the relief taskforce from the 63rd Expedition, and that inevitably meant officers of the XVI Legion. With the possible exception of Eshkerrus, they were all nervous. The arrival of the Luna Wolves, the most famed and
feared of all Astartes divisions, was enough to tension any man's nerve strings.
When the shuttle's landing ramp extended and ten Luna Wolves descended through the clearing vapour, there had been silence, and that silence had turned to stifled gasps when it became apparent these were not the ten brothers of a captain's ceremonial detail, but ten captains themselves in full, formal wargear.
The first captain led the party, and made the sign of the aquila to Mathanual August.
'I am-' he began.
'I know who you are, lord.’ August said, and bowed deeply, trembling. There were few in the Imperium who didn't recognise or fear First Captain Abaddon. 'I welcome you and-'
'Hush, master.’ Abaddon said. We're not there yet.’
August looked up, not really understanding. Abaddon stepped back into his place, and the ten, cloaked captains, five on each side of the landing ramp, formed an honour guard and snapped to attention, visors front and hands on the pommels of their sheathed swords.
The Warmaster emerged from the shuttle. Everyone, apart from the ten captains and Mathanual August, immediately prostrated themselves on the deck.
The Warmaster stepped slowly down the ramp. His very presence was enough to inspire total and unreserved attention, but he was, quite calculatedly, doing the one thing that made matters even worse. He wasn't smiling.
August stood before him, his eyes wide open, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly, like a beached fish.
Eshkerrus, who had himself gone quite green, glanced up and yanked at the hem of August's robes. Abase yourself, fool!' he hissed.
August couldn't. Loken doubted the veteran fleet master could have even recalled his own name at that moment. Horas came to a halt, towering over him.
'Sir, will you not bow?' Horus inquired.
When August finally replied, his voice was a tiny, embryonic thing. 'I can't.’ he said. 'I can't remember how.’
Then, once again, the Warmaster showed his limitless genius for leadership. He sank to one knee and bowed to Mathanual August.
'I have come, as fast as I was able, to help you, sir.’ he said. He clasped August in an embrace. The Warmaster was smiling now. 'I like a man who's proud enough not to bend his knees to me.’ he said.
'I would have bent them if I had been able, my lord.’ August said. Already August was calmer, gratefully put at his ease by the Warmaster's informality.
'Forgive me, Mathanual... may I call you Mathanual? Master is so stiff. Forgive me for not informing you that I was coming in person. I detest pomp and ceremony, and if you'd known I was coming, you'd have gone to unnecessary lengths. Soldiers in dress regs, ceremonial bands, bunting. I particularly despise bunting.’
Mathanual August laughed. Horus rose to his feet and looked around at the prone figures covering the wide deck. 'Rise, please. Please. Get to your feet. A cheer or a round of applause will do me, not this futile grovelling.’
The fleet officers rose, cheering and applauding. He'd won them over. Just like that, thought Loken, he'd won them over. They were his now, forever.
Horus moved forwards to greet the officers and commanders individually Loken noticed Eshkerrus, in his purple and gold robes and half-armour, taking his greeting with a bow. There was something sour about the equerry, Loken thought. Something definitely put out.
'Helms!' Abaddon ordered, and the company commanders removed their helmets. They moved forwards, more casually now, to escort their commander through the press of applauding figures.
Horus whispered an aside to Abaddon as he took greeting kisses and bows from the assembly. Abaddon nodded. He touched his link, activating the privy channel, and spoke, in Cthonic, to the other three members of the Mournival. War council in thirty minutes. Be ready to play your parts.'
The other three knew what that meant. They followed Abaddon into the greeting crowd.
THEY ASSEMBLED FOR council in the sttategium of the Misericord, a massive rotunda situated behind the barge's main bridge. The Warmaster took the seat at the head of the long table, and the Mournival sat down with him, along with August, Eshkerrus and nine senior ship commanders and army officers. The other Luna Wolf captains sat amongst the crowds of lesser fleet officers filling the tiered seating in the panelled galleries above them.
Master August called up hololithic displays to illuminate his succinct recap of the situation. Horus regarded each one in turn, twice asking August to go back so he could study details again.
'So you poured everything you had into this death trap?' Torgaddon began bluntly, once August had finished.
August recoiled, as if slapped. 'Sir, I did as-'
The Warmaster raised his hand. Tarik, too much, too stern. Master August was simply doing as Captain Frome told him.’
'My apologies, lord.’ Torgaddon said. 'I withdraw the comment.’
'I don't believe Tarik should have to.’ Abaddon cut in. This was a monumental misuse of manpower. Three companies? Not to mention the army units...'
'It wouldn't have happened under my watch.’ murmured Torgaddon. August blinked his eyes very fast. He looked like he was attempting not to tear up.
'It's unforgivable.’ said Aximand. 'Simply unforgivable.’
We will forgive him, even so.’ Horus said.
'Should we, lord?' asked Loken.
'I've shot men for less.’ said Abaddon.
'Please.’ August said, pale, rising to his feet. 'I deserve punishment. I implore you to-'
'He's not worth the bolt.’ muttered Aximand.
'Enough.’ Horus smoothed. 'Mathanual made a mistake, a command mistake. Didn't you, Mathanual?'
'I believe I did, sir.’
'He drip-fed his expedition's forces into a danger zone until they were all gone.’ said Horus. 'It's tragic. It happens sometimes. We're here now, that's all that matters. Here to rectify the problem.’
What of the Emperor's Children?' Loken put in. 'Did they not even consider waiting?'
'For what, exactly?' asked Eshkerrus.
'For us.’ smiled Aximand.
'An entire expedition was in jeopardy.’ replied Eshkerrus, his eyes narrowing. We were first on scene. A critical response. We owed it to our Blood Angels brothers to-'
To what? Die too?' Torgaddon asked.
Three companies of Blood Angels were-' Eshkerrus exclaimed.
'Probably dead already.’ Aximand interrupted. They'd showed you the trap was there. Did you just think you'd walk into it too?'
We-' Eshkerrus began.
'Or was Lord Eidolon simply hungry for glory?' asked Torgaddon.
Eshkerrus rose to his feet. He glared across the table at Torgaddon. 'Captain, you offend the honour of the Emperor's Children.’
That may indeed be what I'm doing, yes.’ Torgaddon replied.
Then, sir, you are a base and low-born-'
'Equerry Eshkerrus,' Loken said. 'None of us like Torgad-don much, except when he is speaking the truth. Right now, I like him a great deal.'
That's enough, Garviel,' Horns said quietly. 'Enough, all of you. Sit down, equerry. My Luna Wolves speak harshly because they are dismayed at this situation. An Imperial defeat. Companies lost. An implacable foe. This saddens me, and it will sadden the Emperor too, when he hears of it'
Horus rose. 'My report to him will say this. Captain Frame was right to assault this world, for it is clearly a nest of xenos filth. We applaud his courage. Master August was right to support the captain, even though it meant he spent the bulk of his military formation. Lord Commander Eidolon was right to engage, without support, for to do otherwise would have been cowardly when lives were at stake. I would also like to thank all those commanders who rerouted here to offer assistance. From this point on, we will handle it'
'How will you handle it, lord?' Eshkerrus asked boldly.
'Will you attack?' asked August.
"We will consider our options and inform you presently. That's all.'
The officers filed out of the strategium, along with Sedi-rae, Marr, Moy, Goshen, Targost and Qruze, leaving the Warmaster alone with the Moumival.
Once they were alone, Homs looked at the four of them. Thank you, friends. Well played.'
Loken was fast learning both how the Warmaster liked to employ the Mournival as a political weapon, and what a masterful political animal the Warmaster was. Aximand had quietly briefed Loken on what would be required of him just before they boarded the shuttle on the Vengeful Spirit. The situation here is a mess, and the commander believes that mess has in part been
caused by incompetence and mistakes at command level. He wants all the officers reprimanded, rebuked so hard they smart with shame, but... if he's going to pull the 140th Expedition back together again and make it viable, he needs their admiration, their respect and their unswerving loyalty. None of which he will have if he marches in and starts throwing his weight around.’
'So the Moumival does the rebuking for him?'
'Just so,' Aximand had smiled. The Luna Wolves are feared anyway, so let them fear us. Let them hate us. We'll be the mouthpiece of discontent and rancour. All accusations must come from us. Play the part, speak as bluntly and critically as you like. Make them squirm in discomfort. They'll get the message, but at the same time, the Warmaster will be seen as a benign conciliator.'
We're his war dogs?'
'So he doesn't have to growl himself. Exactly. He wants us to give them hell, a dressing down they'll remember and learn from. That allows him to seem the peacemaker. To remain beloved, adored, a voice of reason and calm. By the end, if we do things properly, they'll all feel suitably admonished, and simultaneously they'll all love the War-master for showing mercy and calling us off. Everyone thinks the Warmaster's keenest talent is as a warrior. No one expects him to be a consummate politician. Watch him and leam, Garvi. Learn why the Emperor chose him as his proxy.’
'Well played indeed.’ Homs said to the Moumival with a smile. 'Garviel, that last comment was deliriously barbed. Eshkerrus was quite incandescent.’
Loken nodded. 'From the moment I laid eyes on him, he struck me as man eager to cover his arse. He knew mistakes had been made.’
"Yes, he did.’ Horus said. 'Just don't expect to find many friends amongst the Emperor's Children for a while. They are a proud bunch.’
Loken shrugged. 'I have all the friends I need, sir.’ he said.
'August, Eshkerrus and a dozen others may, of course, be formally cautioned and charged with incompetence once this is done.’ Horns said lightly, 'but only once this is done. Now, morale is crucial. Now we have a war to design.’
IT WAS ABOUT half an hour later when August summoned them to the bridge. A sudden and unexpected hole had appeared in the shield-storms of One Forty Twenty, an abrupt break in the fury, and quite close to the supposed landing vectors of the Emperor's Children.
'At last.’ said August, 'a gap in that storm.’
'Would that I had Astartes to drop into it.’ Eshkerrus muttered to himself.
'But you don't, do you?' Aximand remarked snidely. Eshkerrus glowered at Little Horns.
'Let's go in.’ Torgaddon urged the Warmaster. 'Another hole might be a long time coming.’
The storm might close in again.’ Horus said, pointing to the radiating cyclonics on the lith.
'You want this world, don't you?' said Torgaddon. 'Let me take the speartip down.’ The lots had already been drawn. The speartip was to be Torgaddon's company, along with the companies of Sedirae, Moy and Targost.
'Orbital bombardment.’ Horus said, repeating what had already been decided as the best course of action.
'Men might yet live.’ Torgaddon said.
The Warmaster stepped aside, and spoke quietly, in Cfhonic, to the Mournival.
'If I authorise this, I echo August and Eidolon, and I've just had you take them to task for that very brand of rash mistake.’
'This is different.’ Torgaddon replied. 'They went in blind, wave after wave. I'd not advocate duplicating that stupidity, but that break in the weather... it's the first they've detected in months.’
'If there are brothers still alive down there.’ Little Horus said, 'they deserve one last chance to be found.’
'I'll go in.’ said Torgaddon. 'See what I can find. Any sign that the weather is changing, I'll pull the speartip straight back out and we can open up the fleet batteries.’
'I still wonder about the music.’ the Warmaster said. 'Anything on that?'
'The translators are still working.’ Abaddon replied.
Horus looked at Torgaddon. 'I admire your compassion, Tarik, but the answer is a firm no. I'm not going to repeat the errors that have already been made and pour men into-'
'Lord?' August had come over to them again, and held out a data-slate.
Horus took it and read it.
'Is this confirmed?'
Yes, Warmaster.’
Horus regarded the Mournival. 'The Master of Vox has detected trace vox traffic on the surface, in the area of the storm break. It does not respond or recognise our signals, but it is active. Imperial. It looks like squad to squad, or brother to brother transmissions.’
'There are men still alive.’ said Abaddon. He seemed genuinely relieved. 'Great Terra and the Emperor! There are men still alive down there.’
Torgaddon stared at the Warmaster steadily and said nothing. He'd already said it.
Very well.’ said Horus to Torgaddon. 'Go.’
8*8
THE DROP-PODS were arranged down the length of the Vengeful Spirit's fifth embarkation deck in their launch racks, and the warriors of the speartip were locking themselves into place. Lid doors, like armoured petals, were closing around them, so the drop-pods resembled toughened, black seed cases ready for autumn. Klaxons sounded, and the firing coils of the launchers were beginning to charge. They made a harsh, rising whine and a stink of ozone smouldered like incense in the deck air.
The Warmaster stood at the side of the vast deck space, watching the hurried preparations, his arms folded across his chest.
'Climate update?' he snapped.
'No change in the weather break, my lord.’ Mal-oghurst replied, consulting his slate.
'How long's it been now?' Horns asked.
'Eighty-nine minutes.’
They've done a good job pulling this together in such a short time.’ Horus said. 'Ezekyle, commend the unit officers, please. Make it known I'm proud of them.’
Abaddon nodded. He held the papers of four oaths of moment in his armoured hands. 'Aximand?' he suggested.
Little Horus stepped forwards.
'Ezekyle?' Loken said. 'Could I?'
"You want to?'
'Luc and Seghar heard and witnessed mine before the Whisperheads. And Tarik is my friend.’
Abaddon looked sidelong at the Warmaster, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. Abaddon handed the parchments to Loken.
Loken strode out across the deck, Aximand at his side, and heard the four captains take their oaths. Little Horus held out the bolter on which the oaths were sworn.
When it was done, Loken handed the oath papers to each of them.
'Be well.’ he said to them, 'and commend your unit commanders. The Warmaster personally admired their work today.’
Verulam Moy made the sign of the aquila. 'My thanks, Captain Loken.’ he said, and walked away towards his pod, shouting for his unit seconds.
Serghar Targost smiled at Loken, and clasped his fist, thumb around thumb. By his side, Luc Sedirae grinned with his ever half-open mouth, his eyes a murderous blue, eager for war.
'If I don't see you next on this deck...' Sedirae began.
'...let it be at the Emperor's side.’ Loken finished.
Sedirae laughed and ran, whooping, towards his pod. Targost locked on his helm and strode away in the opposite direction.
'Luc's blood is up.’ Loken said to Torgaddon. 'How's yours?'
'My humours are all where they should be.’ Torgaddon replied. He hugged Loken, with a clatter of plate, and then did the same to Aximand.
'Lupercal!' he bellowed, punching the air with his fist, and turned away, running to his waiting drop-pod.
'Lupercal!' Loken and Aximand shouted after him.
The pair turned and walked back to join Abaddon, Maloghust and the Warmaster.
'I'm always a little jealous.’ Little Horus muttered to Loken as they crossed the deck.
'Me too.’
'I always want it to be me.’
'I know.’
'Going into something like that.’
'I know. And I'm always just a little afraid.’
'Of what, Garviel?'
That we won't see them again.’
"We will.’
'How can you be so sure, Horus?' Loken wondered.
'I can't say.’ replied Aximand, with a deliberate irony that made Loken laugh.
The observing party withdrew behind the blast shields. A sudden, volatile pressure change announced the opening of the deck's void fields. The firing coils accelerated to maximum charge, shrieking with pent up energy.
The word is given.’ Abaddon instructed above the uproar.
One by one, each with a concussive bang, the drop-pods fired down through the deck slots like bullets. It was like the ripple of a full broadside firing. The embarkation deck shuddered as the drop-pods ejected free.
Then they were all gone, and the deck was suddenly quiet, and tiny armoured pellets, cocooned in teardrops of blue fire, sank away towards the planet's surface.
I CAN'T SAY.
The phrase had haunted Loken since the sixth week of the voyage to Murder. Since he had gone with Little Horus to the lodge meeting.
The meeting place had been one of the aft holds of the flagship, a lonely, forgotten pocket of the ship's superstructure. Down in the dark, the way had been lit by tapers.
Loken had come in simple robes, as Aximand had instructed him. They'd met on the fourth midships deck, and taken the rail carriage back to the aft quarters before descending via dark service stairwells.
'Relax.’ Aximand kept telling him.
Loken couldn't. He'd never liked the idea of the lodges, and the discovery that Jubal had been a member had increased his disquiet.
This isn't what you think it is.’ Aximand had said.
And what did he think it was? A forbidden conclave. A cult of the Lectio Divinitatus. Or worse. A terrible assembly. A worm in the bud. A cancer at the heart of the Legion.
As he walked down the dim, metal deckways, part of him hoped that what awaited him would be infernal. A coven. Proof that Jubal had already been tainted by some manufacture of the warp before the Whisper-heads. Proof that would reveal a source of evil to Loken that he could finally strike back at in open retribution, but the greater part of him willed it to be otherwise. Little Horus Aximand was party to this meeting. If it was tainted, then Aximand's presence meant that taint ran profoundly deep. Loken didn't want to have to go head to head with Aximand. If what he feared was true, then in the next few minutes he might have to fight and kill his Mournival brother.
ЛУТю approaches?' asked a voice from the darkness. Loken saw a figure, evidently an Astartes by his build, shrouded in a hooded cloak.
Two souls.’ Aximand replied.
What are your names?' the figure asked.
'I can't say.’
'Pass, friends.’
They entered the aft hold. Loken hesitated. The vast, scaffold-framed area was eerily lit by candles and a vigorous fire in a metal canister. Dozens of hooded figures stood around. The dancing light made weird shadows of the deep hold's structural architecture.
'A new friend comes.’ Aximand announced.
The hooded figures turned. 'Let him show the sign.’ said one of them in a voice that seemed familiar.
'Show it.’ Aximand whispered to Loken.
Loken slowly held out the medal Aximand had given him. It glinted in the fire light. Inside his robe, his
other hand clasped the grip of the combat knife he had concealed.
'Let him be revealed.’ a voice said.
Aximand reached over and drew Loken's hood down.
'Welcome, brother warrior.’ the others said as one.
Aximand pulled down his own hood. 'I speak for him.’ he said.
Tour voice is noted. Is he come of his own free will?'
'He is come because I invited him.’
'No more secrecy.’ the voice said.
The figures removed their hoods and showed their faces in the glow of the candles. Loken blinked.
There was Torgaddon, Luc Sedirae, Nero Vipus, Kalus Ekaddon, Verulam Moy and two dozen other senior and junior Astartes.
And Serghar Targost, the hidden voice. Evidently the lodge master.
'You'll not need the blade.’ Targost said gently, stepping forwards and holding out his hand for it. 'You are free to leave at any time, unmolested. May I take it from you? Weapons are not permitted within the bounds of our meetings.’
Loken took out the combat knife and passed it to Targost. The lodge master placed it on a wall strut, out of the way.
Loken continued to look from one face to another. This wasn't like anything he had expected.
'Tarik?'
'We'll answer any question, Garviel.’ Torgaddon said. 'That's why we brought you here.’
We'd like you to join us.’ said Aximand, 'but if you choose not to, we will respect that too. All we ask, either way, is that you say nothing about what and who you see here to anyone outside.’
Loken hesitated. 'Or... '
'It's not a threat.’ said Aximand. 'Nor even a condition. Simply a request that you respect our privacy.’
We've known for a long time.’ Targost said, 'that you have no interest in the warrior lodge.’
'I'd perhaps have put it more strongly than that.’ said Loken.
Targost shrugged. We understand the nature of your opposition. You're far from being the only Astartes to feel that way. That is why we've never made any attempt to induct you.’
What's changed?' asked Loken.
You have.’ said Aximand. You're not just a company officer now, but a Mournival lord. And the fact of the lodge has come to your attention.’
'Jubal's medal...' said Loken.
'Jubal's medal.’ nodded Aximand. 'Jubal's death was a terrible thing, which we all mourn, but it affected you more than anyone. We see how you strive to make amends, to whip your company into tighter and finer form, as you blame yourself. When the medal turned up, we were concerned that you might start to make waves. That you might start asking open questions about the lodge.’
'So this is self-interest?' Loken asked. You thought you'd gang up on me and force me into silence?'
'Garviel.’ said Luc Sedirae, 'the last thing the Luna Wolves need is an honest and respected captain, a member of the Mournival no less, campaigning to expose the lodge. It would damage the entire Legion.’
'Really?'
'Of course.’ said Sedirae. The agitations of a man like you would force the Warmaster to act.’
'And he doesn't want to do that.’ Torgaddon said.
'He... knows?' Loken asked.
You seemed shocked.’ said Aximand. Wouldn't you be more shocked to learn the Warmaster didn't know
about the quiet order within his Legion? He knows. He's always known, and he turns a blind eye, provided we remain closed and confidential in our activities.’
1 don't understand...' Loken said.
That's why you're here.’ said Moy. 'You speak out against us because you don't understand. If you wish to oppose what we do, then at least do so from an informed position.’
'I've heard enough.’ said Loken, turning away. 'I'll leave now. Don't worry, I'll say nothing. I'll make no waves, but I'm disappointed in you all. Someone can return my blade to me tomorrow.’
'Please.’ Aximand began.
'No, Horus! You meet in secret, and secrecy is the enemy of truth. So we are taught! Truth is everything we have! You hide yourselves, you conceal your identities... for what? Because you are ashamed? Hell's teeth, you should be! The Emperor himself, beloved by all, has ruled on this. He does not sanction this kind of activity!'
'Because he doesn't understand!' Torgaddon exclaimed.
Loken turned back and strode across the chamber until he was nose to nose with Torgaddon. 'I can hardly believe I heard you say that.’ he snarled.
'It's true.’ said Torgaddon, not backing down. The Emperor isn't a god, but he might as well be. He's so far removed from the rest of mankind. Unique. Singular. Who does he call brother? No one! Even the blessed pri-marchs are only sons to him. The Emperor is wise beyond all measure, and we love him and would follow him until the crack of doom, but he doesn't understand brotherhood, and that is all we meet for.’
There was silence for a moment. Loken turned away from Torgaddon, unwilling to look upon his face. The others stood in a ring around them.
'We are warriors.’ said Targost. That is all we know and all we do. Duty and war, war and duty. Thus it has
been since we were created. The only bond we have that is not prescribed by duty is that of brotherhood.’
That is the purpose of the lodge.’ said Sedirae. To be a place where we are free to meet and converse and confide, outside the strictures of rank and martial order. There is only one qualification a man needs to be a part of our quiet order. He must be a warrior.’
'In this company.’ said Targost, 'a man of any rank can meet and speak openly of his troubles, his doubts, his ideas, his dreams, without fear of scorn, or monition from a commanding officer. This is a sanctuary for our spirit as men.’
'Look around.’ Aximand invited, stepping forwards, gesturing with his hands. 'Look at these faces, Garviel. Company captains, sergeants, file warriors. Where else could such a mix of men meet as equals? We leave our ranks at the door when we come in. Here, a senior commander can talk with a junior initiate, man to man. Here, knowledge and experience is passed on, ideas are circulated, commonalities discovered. Serghar holds the office of lodge master only so that a function of order may be maintained.’
Targost nodded. 'Horus is right. Garviel, do you know how old the quiet order is?'
'Decades...'
'No, older. Perhaps thousands of years older. There have been lodges in the Legions since their inception, and allied orders in the army and all other branches of the martial divisions. The lodge can be traced back into antiquity, before even the Unification Wars. It's not a cult, nor a religious obscenity. Just a fraternity of warriors. Some Legions do not practise the habit. Some do. Ours always has done. It lends us strength.’
'How?' asked Loken.
'By connecting warriors otherwise divorced by rank or station. It makes bonds between men who would
otherwise not even know one another's name. We thrive, like all Legions, from our firm hierarchy of formal authority, the loyalty that flows down from a commander through to his lowest soldier. Loyal to a squad, to a section, to a company. The lodge reinforces complementary links across that structure, from squad to squad, company to company. It could be said to be our secret weapon. It is the true strength of the Luna Wolves, strapping us together, side to side, where we are already bound up top to toe.’
'You have a dozen spears to carry into war.’ said Tor-gaddon quietly. 'You gather them, shaft to shaft, as a bundle, so they are easier to bear. How much easier is that bundle to carry if it is tied together around the shafts?'
'If that was a metaphor.’ Loken said, 'it was lousy.’
'Let me speak.’ said another man. It was Kalus Ekad-don. He stepped forwards to face Loken.
There's been bad blood between us, Loken.’ he said blundy.
There has.’
'A little matter of rivalry on the field. I admit it. After the High City fight, I hated your guts. So, in the field, though we served the same master and followed the same standard, there'd always be friction between us. Competition. Am I right?'
'I suppose...'
'I've never spoken to you.’ Ekaddon said. 'Never, informally. We don't meet or mix. But I tell you this much: I've heard you tonight, in this place, amongst friends. I've heard you stand up for your beliefs and your point of view, and I've learned respect for you. You speak your mind. You have principles. Tomorrow, Loken, no matter what you decide tonight, I'll see you in a new light. You'll not get any grief from me any more, because I know you now. I've seen you as the
man you are.’ He laughed, raw and loud. Terra, it's a crude example, Loken, for I'm a crude fellow, but it shows what the lodge can do.’
He held out his hand. After a moment, Loken took it.
There's a thing at least.’ said Ekaddon. 'Now get on, if you're going. We've talking and drinking to do.’
'Or will you stay?' asked Torgaddon.
'For now, perhaps.’ said Loken.
THE MEETING LASTED for two hours. Torgaddon had brought wine, and Sedirae produced some meat and bread from the flagship's commissary. There were no crude rituals or daemonic practices to observe. The men - the brothers - sat around and talked in small groups, then listened as Aximand recounted the details of a xenos war that he had participated in, which he hoped might give them insight into the fight ahead. Afterwards, Torgaddon told some jokes, most of them bad.
As Torgaddon rambled on with a particularly involved and vulgar tale, Aximand came over to Loken.
Where do you suppose.’ he began quietly, 'the notion of the Mournival came from?'
'From this?' Loken asked.
Aximand nodded. 'The Mournival has no legitimate standing or powers. It's simply an informal organ, but the Warmaster would not be without it. It was created originally as a visible extension of the invisible lodge, though that link has long since gone. They're both informal bodies interlaced into the very formal structures of our lives. For the benefit of all, I believe.’
'I imagined so many horrors about the lodge.’ said Loken.
'I know. All part of that straight up and down thing you do so well, Garvi. It's why we love you. And the lodge would like to embrace you.’
"Will there be formal vows? All the theatrical rigmarole of the Mournival?'
Aximand laughed. 'No! If you're in, you're in. There are only very simple rules. You don't talk about what passes between us here to any not of the lodge. This is down time. Free time. The men, especially the junior ranks, need to be confident they can speak freely without any comeback. You should hear what some of them say.’
'I think I might like to.'
That's good. You'll be given a medal to cany, just as a token. And if anyone asks you about any lodge confidence, the answer is "I can't say". There's nothing else really'
'I've misjudged this thing,' Loken said. 'I made it quite a daemon in my head, imagining the worst.’
'I understand. Particularly given the matter of poor Jubal. And given your own staunch character.’
'Am I... to replace Jubal?'
'It's not a matter of replacement.’ Litde Horns said, 'and anyway, no. Jubal was a member, though he hadn't attended any meetings in years. That's why we forgot to palm away his medal before your inspection. There's your danger sign, Garvi. Not that Jubal was a member, but that he was a member and had seldom attended. We didn't know what was going on in his head. If he'd come to us and shared, we might have pre-empted the horror you endured at the Whisperheads.’
'But you told me I was to replace someone.’ Loken said.
Yes. Udon. We miss him.’
'Udon was a lodge member?'
Aximand nodded. 'A long-time brother, and, by the way, go easy on Vipus.’
Loken went over to where Nero Vipus was sitting, beside the canister fire. The lively yellow flames jumped
into the dark air and sent stray sparks oscillating away into the black. Vipus looked uncomfortable, toying with the heal-seam of his new hand.
'Nero?'
'Garviel. I was bracing myself for this.’
Wiy?'
'Because you... because you didn't want anyone in your command to...'
'As I understand it.’ Loken said, 'and forgive me if I'm wrong, because I'm new to this, but as I understand it, the lodge is a place for free speech and openness. Not discomfort.’
Nero smiled and nodded. 'I was a member of the lodge long before I came into your command. I respected your wishes, but I couldn't leave the brotherhood. I kept it hidden. Sometimes, I thought about asking you to join, but I knew you'd hate me for it.’
You're the best friend I have.’ Loken said. 'I couldn't hate you for anything.’
The medal though. Jubal's medal. When you found it, you wouldn't let the matter go.’
'And all you said was "I can't say". Spoken like a true lodge member.’
Nero sniggered.
'By the way.’ Loken said. 'It was you, wasn't it?'
ЛУ1Ш?'
4Vho took Jubal's medal.’
'I told Captain Aximand about your interest, just so he knew, but no, Garvi. I didn't take the medal.’
WHEN THE MEETING closed, Loken walked away along one of the vast service tunnels that ran the length of the ship's bilges. Water dripped from the rusted roof, and oil rainbows shone on the dirty lakes across the deck.
Torgaddon ran to catch up with him.
'Well?' he asked.
'I was surprised to see you there.’ said Loken.
'I was surprised to see you there.’ Torgaddon replied. 'A starch-arse like you?'
Loken laughed. Torgaddon ran ahead and leapt up to slap his palm against a pipe high overhead. He landed with a splash.
Loken chuckled, shook his head, and did the same, slapping higher than Torgaddon had managed.
The pipe clang echoed away from them down the tunnel.
'Under the engineerium.’ Torgaddon said, 'the ducts are twice as high, but I can touch them.’
'You lie.’
'I'll prove it.’
'We'll see.’
They walked on for a while. Torgaddon whistled the Legion March loudly and tunelessly.
'Nothing to say?' he asked at length.
'About what?'
'Well, about that.’
'I was misinformed. I understand better now.’
'And?'
Loken stopped and looked at Torgaddon. 'I have only one worry.’ he said. 'The lodge meets in secret, so, logically, it is good at keeping itself secret. I have a problem with secrets.’
'Which is?'
'If you get good at keeping them, who knows what kind you'll end up keeping.’
Torgaddon maintained a straight face for as long as possible and then exploded in laughter. 'No good.’ he spluttered. 'I can't help it. You're so straight up and down.’
Loken smiled, but his voice was serious. 'So you keep telling me, but I mean it, Tarik. The lodge hides itself so well. It's become used to hiding things. Imagine what it could hide if it wanted to.’
The fact that you're a starch-arse?' Torgaddon asked. 'I think that's common knowledge.’ 'It is. It so is!' Torgaddon chuckled. He paused. 'So... will you attend again?' 'I can't say.’ Loken replied.