Dan Abnett - Necropolis

Haller crossed to the altar, straightened the slightly skewed Imperial eagle and knelt in observance. Tears dripped down his face, but he still remembered to sign his anguish and his prayer to the Emperor rather than speak it. Gol noticed this, and was touched and impressed by the soldier's dual devotion to the Emperor and to their continued safety.

Gol got his company into the chapel, spreading them out to cover the openings and find the obvious escape routes.

The ground shook as tank rounds took out the workshop where they had sprung their trap.

In the cover of the explosions, he dared to speak, signing at the same time. Let's find the next ones to kill, he said.

A squad of six, moving in from the west, hissed loom-girl Banda, setting down her lasgun and peering out of a half-broken lancet window.

Drill form as before, Gol Kolea signed to his company, Form on me. Let's set the next snare.

Lord Heymlik Chass sent his servitors and bodyguard away. The chief of the guard, Rudrec, his weapon dutifully shrouded, tried to refuse, but Chass was not in the mood for argument.

Alone in the cool, gloomy family chapel of House Chass, high up in the Main Spine upper sectors, the lord prayed diligently to the soul of the undying Emperor. The ghosts of his ancestors welled up around him, immortalised in statuary. Heymlik Chass believed in ghosts.

They spoke to him.

He unlocked the casket by the high altar between the family stasis-crypts with a geno-key that had been in his family for generations. He raised the velvet-padded lid, hearing the moan of ancient suspensor fields, and lifted out Heironymo's Amulet.

What are you doing, father? Merity Chass asked. His daughter's voice startled him and almost made him drop the precious thing.

Merity! You shouldn't be here! he murmured.

What are you doing? she asked again, striding forward under the flaming sconces of the chapel, her green velvet dress whispering as she moved.

Is that Her voice trailed away. She could not utter the words.

Yes. Given to our house by Great Heironymo himself.

You're not thinking of using it! Father!

He stared down into her pained, beautiful face.

Go away, my daughter. This is not for your eyes.

No! she barked. She so reminded him of her mother when she turned angry that way. I am grown, I am the heir, female though I may be. Tell me what you are doing!

Chass sighed and let the weight of the amulet play in his hands. What I must, what is good for the hive. There was a reason Old Heironymo bequeathed this to my father. Salvadore Sondar is a maniac. He will kill us all.

You have raised me to be respectful of the High House, father, she said, a slight smile escaping her frown. That was her mother again, Heymlik noticed.

It amounts to treason, his daughter whispered.

He nodded and his head sank. I know what it amounts to. But we are on the very brink now. Heironymo always foretold this moment.

He hugged her. She felt the weight of the amulet in his hands against her back.

You must do what you must, father, Merity said.

Like a slow, pollen-gathering insect, a vox drone hummed lazily in the chapel and crossed to the embracing figures. It bleeped insistently. Chass pulled away from his daughter, savouring the sweet smell of her hair.

A vote is being taken in the Upper Legislature. I must go.

Bumbling like a moth, the drone hovered in front of the Noble Lord, leading him out of the chamber.

Father?

Heymlik looked back at his beloved child, hunched and frightened by the cold, marble familial crypt.

I will support you in whatever you do, but you must tell me what you decide. Don't keep me in the dark.

I promise, he said.

The Privy Council was a circular theatre set on the Spine-floor above the spectacular main hall of the Legislature, and it was reserved for the noble houses only. The domed roof was a painted frieze of the Emperor and the god-machines of Mars hovering in radiant clouds. Columns of warm, yellow light stabbed down from the edges of the circular ceiling and lit the velvet thrones of the high houses. Apart from Chass, they were all there: Gavunda, Yetch, Rodyn, Anko, Croe, Piidestro, Nompherenti and Vwik.

Marshal Croe stood by his brother, the old, wizened Lord Croe, in deep conference. Vice Marshal Anko, beaming and obsequious, was introducing General Sturm to his resplendently gowned cousin, Lord Anko. Commissar Kowle was diplomatically greeting Lords Gavunda and Nompherenti. Servants and house retainers thronged the place, running messages, fetching silver platters of refreshments, or simply guarding their noble masters with shrouded sidearms.

A gong sounded four strokes. The main gilt shutter at the east side of the room slid up into the ceiling with a hiss and Master Legislator Anophy limped into the chamber, his opalescent robes glinting in the yellow light, his beribboned tricorn nodding with each heavy shuffle he took across the embroidered carpet. He was using the long, golden sceptre of his office as a stick. Child pages held his train and carried his gem-encrusted vox/pict drone and Book of Hive-law before him on tasselled cushions.

Anophy reached his place. He adjusted the silver arm of the vox-phone and spoke. Noble houses, your careful attention. All looked round and quickly took their places. Kowle, Sturm and the other military men withdrew to one side.

Noble Chass' seat was vacant.

Anophy thumbed through the data on a slate held up by one of his pages and he set a palsy-trembling finger to his moist lips.

A matter to vote. In all precision, before these houses, the ratification of the defence plans our noble friend, General Noches Sturm, has drawn up. The matter need not be lengthened further by discourse. The Hive, Emperor grant it wealth and longevity, awaits.

Six assent runes, fizzling holograms, lit the air above Anophy. Rodyn and Piidestro houses voted against with dark-tinged, threatening lights.

Carried, said Anophy simply. The Privy Council began chattering and moving again.

A shutter of herring-bone steel to the west side of the chamber slid open and Noble Chass, accompanied by his bodyguard, entered the chamber. An awkward hush fell. It remained in place as Chass descended the steps, crossed the chamber and took his appointed seat. Once they had folded his great, silk train over the throne back, his bodyguard and servants stood away.

Chass gazed around the circular hall. Several of his fellow nobles did not meet his gaze.

You have voted. I was not present.

You were summoned, Lord Anko said. If you miss the given time, your vote is forfeit.

You know the rules, noble lord, wheezed Anophy.

I know when I have been excluded.

Come now! Anophy said. There is no exclusion in the upper parliament of Vervunhive. Given the extraordinary circumstances of this situation, I will allow you to vote now.

Chass looked around again, very conscious of the way Lord Croe would not look at him.

I see the matter has been voted six to two. My vote, whichever way I meant to cast it, would be useless now.

Cast it anyway, brother lord, gurgled Gavunda through the silver-inlaid, wire-box augmentor that covered his mouth like an ornate, crouching spider.

Chass shook his head. I spoil my vote. There is no point to it.

A group of figures was entering through the east hatch. Commissar Tarrian was trying to delay them, but they pushed past. It was Gaunt, Grizmund, Nash and their senior officers.

I can scarce believe your guile, Sturm, Nash spat, facing the other general. Gilbear moved forward to confront the Roane commander, but Sturm held him back with a curt snap of his fingers.

Gaunt crossed directly to the Master Legislator's place and took the data-slate from the hands of the surprised page. He reviewed it.