Echoes of the Long War by David Guymer

Author:David Guymer
Language: eng, eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Published: 2016-03-14T15:31:57+00:00

Twelve

Terra – the Imperial Palace

Drakan Vangorich knelt at the shrine to light a candle. There were more to choose between than would ordinarily be the case. The handful already lit burned low, wicks struggling to hold their heads above ever deepening pools of molten wax.

The chapel ordinary was an austere stone cell lacking even a window to distract one’s mind from communion with the God-Emperor. It was generally used by Palace servants and householders for their daily observances, but Vangorich found its asceticism useful. It made him look humble, civilised and discreet. He was, in fact, all of those things, but no one ever lit a candle or left a coin in a collection bowl to affirm their own virtues to themselves. It was an elaborate masquerade, a game in which no one played the part that their costumes dictated, a performance each and every day of his life so that the ever-circling Palace spies might see the Vangorich that Vangorich wished their masters to see. In so doing, he had allowed himself to become almost as hollow as the part he played.

Some habits were hard to break. Even now, with a twenty-four hour curfew of the entire Inner Palace in preparation for the day’s Senatorum business, he maintained the charade of piety.

Vangorich blew out the lighting taper and dropped the smouldering tip into a jar of sand.

Despite his reputation, he was not a creature of solitude. Any number of unfortunate incidents could befall an individual when he was alone. He was in a position to know. Krule was, of course, no more than thirty seconds away, and he himself was by no means defenceless. A man did not rise to become Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum without possessing skills, but he also knew how far those skills could serve him. This was not a galaxy that rewarded the hubris of men.

Suddenly, he felt the unexpected and rather uncomfort­able need to pray. He was a faithful man, of a kind, observant through rote if not from a true spirituality. He appeared to pray because it served him to be seen to pray.

As he generally made these shows of devotion prior to Senatorum meetings – the better to make oneself receptive to the will and wisdom of the God-Emperor – his thoughts had often revolved around upcoming business. Intelligence briefings on unredacted leaks of pre-agenda packets, comprehensively war-gamed conversational cues to feed the High Twelve. Often, but not always. The Imperium was vast, the Officio ever-busy. There had always been something with which to occupy his mind during a peaceful spell.

And yet for all the occasions that he had knelt here in this chapel and closed his eyes for the spies and vid-capture drones, he had never gone so far as to actually pray. It had never seemed necessary to carry the deception that far. He closed his eyes again.

This seemed to be the way most people went about it.

After a minute or two of stray thoughts, he became aware

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