Salvation by C.S. Goto

Author:C.S. Goto [Goto, C.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-04-01T17:33:19+00:00

‘No, no, sweet Krelyn, it is you who are too confiŹdent/ He was clearly enjoying the poisonous banter, like a chess-player who thinks that he has already won. You see, Prince Jurod - may the Undying Emperor preŹserve his soul - would only be able to make such a misjudged decision if he were ever informed of our occasional, and entirely justified, reticence/

Krelyn realised where Orthios was heading with this and she let her eyes glance rapidly around the room while he continued. ‘So, you see, there really is no need for us to spill any more of our own blood for the effete snobs of the Spire, since their only source of knowlŹedge about our conduct is already under our control. Witbout their Delaque spies, Ko’iron is without eyes in Hive City. After you are dead, Venator Krelyn, I will send word that we fought to defend you but that you died without imparting any information about your mission. Or perhaps/ he added, a malicious glint sparkling in his eyes, as though something brilliant had just occurred to him, ‘I will explain that you were a double agent, and that you were threatening to saboŹtage the mutually beneficial terms of the Orlock-Ko’iron Contract, in the hope that the Delaque might once again curry favour/

Krelyn nodded. She was genuinely impressed. ‘It is a good plan, Orthios, worthy of the Delaque themselves.

Knowledge is power, as they say.’ As she spoke, her blade drew a trickle of blood from Orthios’s throat, but her eyes had already left his face. She was scanning the movements of the other gangers in the room, and noting the distribution of weapons.

ZEFER WAS NOT wholly convinced that his new clothes were any better than his old ones. They seemed tatty and worn - not at all the kind of things that he could wear in the splendid streets of Gwentria’s Fringe. Although he had to admit that he wouldn’t want to wear his old clothes there in their present state. In any case, he was not in Gwentria’s Fringe, and he was not oblivious to the fact that his old clothes did not exactly help him to blend into the streets of Hive City. Part of him wondered whether all the fuss at the Wall had been caused by his inappropriate dress; he had heard stories of people having their heads cut off for wearing the wrong things in the company of Lord Gerontius Helmawr, Guardian of Necromunda in the Holy Name of the Undying Emperor. He hadn’t been prepared for the people of Hive City to be so sensitive to fashion errors.

He rolled his shoulders experimentally and regretted it at once, as stabbing pains fired through his ribcage. But, the soft leather jacket flexed comfortably over the fabric of his undergarments: after some protestations, the men had permitted him to retain his curator’s undergarments when he explained that they contained pockets and pouches of considerable value; the men had nodded appreciatively, apparently thinking that such storage systems were very sensible.

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