Night Lords Omnibus by Aaron Dembski-Bowden

Author:Aaron Dembski-Bowden
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2013-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

XVI

GAMBITS

The mood in Blackmarket was more subdued than usual, and it didn’t take her long to see why. The reason – the seven skinless reasons – hung above everyone’s heads, suspended from the ceiling on corroded chains.

Hound had stepped in some of the blood upon entering, which triggered a stream of muttered grumbling. ‘The Legion is teaching a lesson to the crew,’ he said, not bothering to clean his ragged boots.

The lesson was a wet one. Each of the seven bodies had dripped a great deal, if the stains on the decking were anything to go by. People were still tracking blood all over Blackmarket, and the smell, even for a heretics’ ship, was something special. As Octavia watched, a tremor ran through the Covenant, more test-firing by the engine crews. The chained bodies swayed in their crucified moorings, and something long and stinking spilled from one’s open stomach. It slapped onto the floor like a slimy cord of fat, glistening meat-rope.

Hound saw her staring, mistaking the disgust on her face for confusion. ‘Intestines,’ he said.

‘Thank you, I guessed.’

‘You shouldn’t eat them.’ He said these words with the sage wisdom of experience.

‘I wasn’t going to.’

‘Good.’

Octavia turned her eyes back to the crowds. No one glanced her way for more than a moment. Before, she’d been a curiosity to some, and ignored by others. Now they all avoided her, from the oldest to the youngest, turning their heads from hers if she even looked their way.

She knew why, of course. The story had spread well over the weeks since she’d killed her attendant. Leaving her chamber already felt like a mistake, but sitting alone and hiding with her boredom wasn’t an option any more. She’d go just as crazy in isolation as she would if she risked walking the ship’s halls again.

One of the Legion strode through Blackmarket, helmed and armed. His loose gait suggested a routine patrol, though she’d never seen a Legionary here before for anything other than specific business.

‘Navigator,’ the Night Lord greeted her, granting her a nod as he passed. Backswept wings, like those of a bat or a daemon from the pages of scripture, rose from his helm as a stylised crest.

She didn’t recognise the warrior – he was from one of the other Claws – so she replied with a muted, ‘Lord...’ and left it at that.

The warrior left Blackmarket, heading deeper into the ship. ‘That would also explain why everyone is behaving,’ she mused.

The skinned bodies swung above in morbid echo of the Legion war banners on the bridge, drifting in the breeze of the air filtration system. A flayed hand hung not far from her face as she looked through the tin trinkets offered on one table. The trader quickly looked away after a giving a glassy smile.

Octavia walked on. When she reached Arkiah’s table, she trailed her fingertips over the bare wooden surface, looking around for some explanation of his absence. No one would meet her eyes for long enough to ask. She checked her bandana, though she knew it was in place, and made a decision.

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