Part 2 (1/2)

'It is not our place to question their ways. said Miriya. 'The Ecclesiarchy works to ensure that the veneration of the G.o.d-Emperor meshes with the doctrine of each and every planet. Some distasteful anomalies of belief are inevitable.'

'Fortunate then that our order is here to show the Nevans the way'

'I have never believed in fortune,' Miriya said dis-tantly. 'Faith is enough.'

'Not enough to find Vaun. replied Ca.s.sandra in a morose voice. 'He tricked us, played us for fools.

Miriya looked at her squadmate. 'Aye. But do not punish yourself, Sister. Canoness Galatea will wish to reserve that pleasure.

'You know her of old, yes?'

A nod. 'She was once my Sister Superior as I am yours. An unparalleled warrior and a true credit to the legacy of Saint Katherine, but perhaps a touch too inflexible for my liking. We would often dis-agree on matters of our credo.

Ca.s.sandra could not keep the fear from her voice. What do you think will become of us?'

There will be a cost for our lapse, of that you may have no doubt. Inwardly, Miriya was already rehearsing the plea she would enter, offering to fall on her sword and take all the blame for Vaun's escape rather than drag Ca.s.sandra, Portia, Isabel and poor Iona down with her.

Her Sister gripped the edge of the stone battle-ments tightly, as if she could squeeze an answer from them.

'This apostate torments me, Sister Supe-rior. By the Throne, how could he have simply vanished into thin air? The escape pod Vaun stole from the Mercutio was found on the commerce sta-tion, witnesses saw him there. But the only s.h.i.+p he could have been on was that rattletrap scow we boarded. She shook her head. 'Perhaps... perhaps he hides still on the orbital platform? Waiting for a warp-capable craft to leave?'

'No. Miriya pointed at the ground. 'Sub-orbital craft are plentiful on the station. Vaun took one and madeplanetfall. He came here. It is the only expla-nation.

'To Neva? But that makes no sense. The man is a fugitive, his face is infamous on every world in this system. Any rational person would find the first route out of this sub-sector as fast as possible.

'It makes sense to Vaun, Sister. The witch's arro-gance is so towering that he believes he can hide in plain sight. Mark me well, I tell you that Torris Vaun never had any intention of escaping from Neva. He wanted to come here.

Ca.s.sandra shook her head. 'Why? Why take such a risk of discovery?'

The sun dropped away behind the s.h.i.+eld Moun-tains and Miriya turned from the balcony. When we learn the answer to that, we will find him. She beck-oned her Battle Sister. 'Come. The Canoness will be waiting.

The boat rode in the swell, making good speed across the narrows, the lights of Noroc long since vanished over the stern. The first mate rose into the untidy flying bridge and gave the sailor on watch a jut of the chin, like a nod.

'Asleep. he whispered, and the sailor knew who he meant. 'Fast asleep but still I'm adrift around him.

The sailor licked his dry lips, chancing a look back through the open hatch at the shape beyond, hid-den under the rough-hewn blankets. The atmosphere on the little fis.h.i.+ng cutter had turned stale and leaden the moment they'd taken the pas-senger aboard. Wish I could sleep. he muttered. 'Men been getting bad dreams since we left port, is what they say. Seeing things. Reckon he's a witchkin, I do.

The first mate blinked owlishly. He was tired too. 'Don't you be saying what you're thinking. Keep a course and stay silent, lad. Better that way. Get us there quick-like, all be gone and over.

'Oh aye-' The words died in the sailor's parched throat. Out of the windscreen, across the bow of the cutter, there was a dark shape rising from the ocean.

A razormaw, ugly as Chaos and twice as hungry. He'd never seen a fish so large, not even a deader like in the docker pubs where big stuffed heads and jawbones decorated the walls.

The sailor threw the wheel about in a panic, turn-ing the boat on a hard arc away from the razormaw's grinning mouth. Ice water pooled in his gut. The thing was going to swallow them whole.

You wastrel throwback, what are ye doing?' The first mate smacked him hard about the temple and shoved him away from the helm. Trying to capsize us?'

'But the razor-' he began, stabbing his finger at the sea. 'Do you not see it?'

'See what? There's nothing out there but ocean, boy'

The sailor pressed his face to the window. No razormaw floated, arch-backed and ready to chew the boat apart. There were only the waves, rising and falling. He spun about, glaring at the sleeping man alone on the cot. For a moment, he thought he heard soft, mocking laughter.

”Witchkin. repeated the sailor.

As the rituals demanded, each of them surren-dered their weapons to a grey-robed novice before they entered the chapel. The noviciates were just girls, barely out of the schola progenium on Ophe-lia VII, and they sagged beneath the weight of the heavy firearms. As Celestians, and with that rank, privileged, Sister Miriya and her unit were gifted with superior, master-crafted guns that resembled a votive icon more than a battlefield weapon, but as with all elements of the Adepta Sororitas's equip-ment, from the power armour that protected them to their chainswords and Exorcist tanks, every piece of the order's machinery was as much a holy shrine as the place in which they now stood.

The convent's chapel was high and wide, encom-pa.s.sing several floors of the building's sh.e.l.l keep design.

Up above, where the pipes of the organ ended and biolume pods hovered on suspensors, cherubim moved in lazy circuits, handing notes to one another as they pa.s.sed, the sapphire of their optic implants glittering in the lamplight.

The four women advanced across the chancel to where their seniors awaited them, falling as one into a kneeling position before the vast stone cross-and-skull that dominated the chapel altar.

'In the name of Katherine and the Golden Throne,' they intoned, 'we are the willing daughters of the G.o.d-Emperor. Command us to do His bidding.

It was customary for the senior Battle Sister pre-sent to let the new arrivals stand after the ritual invocation, but Galatea did not. Instead, she stepped forward from the pulpit and took up a place before the altar. Her dark eyes flashed amid the frame of her auburn hair. 'Sister Superior Miriya. When Prioress Lydia informed me that it would be your Celestians bringing the witch to us, I confess I was surprised. Surprised that so sensitive a prisoner be given to a woman of your reputation.'

Miriya spoke without looking up. 'Sister Lydia showed great faith in me.

'She did. Galatea let the breach of protocol go unmentioned. 'How shameful for her now, given your unforgivable lapse of judgement aboard the Mercutio!'I...' Miriya took a shuddering breath. 'There is no excuse. The culpability is mine alone to shoul-der, Canoness. I had the opportunity to terminate the psyker Vaun and I chose not to. His escape falls to me.'

'It does.' Galatea's cold, strong voice echoed in the chapel's heavy air. 'You have lived a charmed life, Sister Miriya. Circ.u.mstances have always con-spired to save you from the small transgressions you have made in the past, minor as they were. But this... I ask you, Sister. What would you do, if you were me?'

After a moment she replied. 'I would not pre-sume to have the wisdom for such a thing, Canoness.

Galatea showed her teeth in an icy smile. 'How very well said, Miriya. And now I find myself on the horns of a dilemma. A dangerous warlock is loose on this world and I need every able-bodied Battle Sister I can field to corral him yet the more severe interpretations of our doctrines would seem to insist that you be made to atone. Perhaps in the most final of ways.

Miriya looked up, defiant. 'If the Emperor wills.

The Canoness leaned forward and her voice dropped to a whisper. 'You do presume, Miriya. You always have.

'Then kill me for it, but spare my Sisters.

Galatea gave a grim smile. 'I'm not going to make you a martyr. That would excuse you, and I am not in a forgiving mood...'

The rest of the Canoness's words were lost in a sud-den crash of sound as the chapel doors slammed open.

A commotion spilled into the room as a troop of armsmen and clerics marched through. At their head was a tall rail of a man, draped in fine silks and priestly regalia. Red and white purity seals hung off him like the medals of a soldier, and the rage on his face matched the crimson of his robes. In one fist he clasped a heavy tome bound in rosaries, in the other there was the clattering blade of a gunmetal chainsword, the adamantine teeth spinning and ready.

Which of them is the one?' he bellowed, pointing across the book at Miriya's squad. Which of these wenches is the fool who lost me my prize?'

Galatea held out a hand to stop him, her face tight with annoyance. 'Lord LaHayn, you forget yourself. This is a place of wors.h.i.+p. Shoulder your weapon!'

You dare defy me?' The high priest's colour dark-ened, the mitre on his head bobbing.

'Aye. Galatea shot back. 'This place is the sacred house of Saint Katherine and the G.o.d-Emperor. I should not need to remind you of that!'