Dan Abnett - Necropolis

Perhaps. I'm not interested in rivalry. So you're versed in recent military history, lady?

No, but my maids are. She smiled dangerously.

Your maids have taken an interest in my record?

Deeply, you and your what was it they said? Your ˜scruffy, courageous Ghost warriors'. Apparently, they are so much more exciting than the starchy Volpone Bluebloods.

That I can vouch for, he replied. Though she was lovely, he had already had enough of her superior manner and courtly flirting. Responding to such things could get a man shot.

I've six scruffy, courageous Ghost warriors right outside if you'd like me to introduce them to your maids, he smiled, or to you.

She paused. Outrage tried to escape her composed expression. She contained it well. What do you want, Gaunt? she asked instead, her tone harder.

Lord Chass summoned me.

My father.

I thought so. That would make you.

Merity Chass, of House Chass.

Gaunt bowed gently again. He took another sip of the drink.

What do you know of my father? she asked crisply, still circling like a gaud-cock in a mating ritual.

Master of one of the nine noble houses of Vervunhive. One of the three who opposed General Sturm's tactical policy. One who took an interest in my counterproposals. An ally, I suppose.

Don't use him. Don't dare use him! she said fiercely.

Use him? Lady

Don't play games! Chass is one of the most powerful noble houses and one of the oldest, but it is part of the minority. Croe and Anko hold power and opposition. Anko especially. My father is what they call a liberal. He has lofty ideals and is a generous and honest man. But he is also guileless, vulnerable. A crafty political agent could use his honesty and betray him. It has happened before.

Lady Chass, I have no designs on your father's position. He summoned me here. I have no idea what he wants. I am a warmaker, a leader of soldiers. I'd rather cut off my right arm than get involved in house politics.

She thought about this. Promise me, Gaunt. Promise me you won't use him. Lord Anko would love to see my noble house and its illustrious lineage overthrown.

He studied her face. She was serious about this guileless, to use her own word.

I'm no intriguer. Leave that to Kowle. Simple, honest promises are something I can do. They are what soldiers live by. So I promise you, lady.

Swear it!

I swear it on the life of the beloved Emperor and the light of the Ray of Hope.

She swallowed, looked away, and then said, Come with me.

With her bodyguards trailing at a respectful distance, she led Gaunt out of the anteroom, along a hallway where soft, gauzy draperies billowed in a cool breeze and out onto a terrace.

The terrace projected from the outer wall of the Main Spine and was covered by a dedicated refractor shield. They were about a kilometre up. Below, the vast sprawl of Vervunhive spread out to the distant bulk of the Curtain Wall. Above them rose the peak of the Spine, glossed in ice, overarched by the huge bowl of the crackling Shield.

The terrace was an ornamental cybernetic garden. Mechanical leaf-forms grew and sprouted in the ordered beds, and bionic vines self-replicated in zigzag patterns of branches to form a dwarf orchard. Metal bees and delicate paper-winged butterflies whirred through the silvery stems and iron branches. Oil-ripe fruit, black like sloes, swung from blossom-joints on the swaying mechanical-tree limbs.

Lord Heymlik Chass, dressed in a gardener's robes, slight marks of oil-sap on his cuffs and apron, moved down the rows of artificial plants, dead-heading brass-petalled flowerheads with a pair of laser secateurs and pruning back the sprays of aluminium roses.

He looked up as his daughter led the commissar over.

I was hoping you would come, Lord Chass said.

I was delayed by events, Gaunt said.

Of course. Chass nodded and gazed out at the south Curtain for a moment. A bad night. Your men survived?

Most of them. War is war.

I was informed of your actions at Hass West. Vervunhive owes you already, commissar.

Gaunt shrugged. He looked around the metal garden.

I have never seen anything like this, he said honestly.

A private indulgence. House Chass built its success on servitors, cogitators and mechanical development. I make working machines for the Imperium. It pleases me to let them evolve in natural forms here, with no purpose other than their own life.

Merity stood back from the pair. I'll leave you alone, then, she said.

Chass nodded and the girl stalked away between the wire-vines and the tin blooms.

You have a fine daughter, lord.

Yes, I have. My heir. No sons. She has a gift for mechanical structures that quite dazzles me. She will lead House Chass into the next century.

He paused, snicked a rusting flowerhead off into his waist-slung sack and sighed. If there is a next century for Vervunhive.

This war will be won by the Imperial force, lord. I have no doubt.

Chass smiled round at the commissar. Spoken like a true political animal, Commissar Gaunt.

It wasn't meant to be a platitude.

Nor did I take it as one. But you are a political animal, aren't you, Gaunt?

I am a colonel of the Imperial Guard. A warrior for the almighty Emperor, praise His name. My politics extend as far as raising troop morale, no further.

Chass nodded. Walk with me, he said.

They moved through a grove of platinum trees heavy with brass oranges. Frills of wire-lace creepers were soldered to the burnished trunks. Beyond the grove, crossing iron lawns that creaked under their footsteps, they walked down a row of bushes with broad, inlaid leaves of soft bronze.

I suppose my daughter has been bending your ear with warnings about my liberal ways?

You are correct, lord.

Chass laughed. She is hugely protective of me. She thinks I'm vulnerable.

She said as much.

Indeed. Let me show you this. Chass led Gaunt into a maze of hedges. The hedgerows crackled with energised life, like veils of illusions.

Fractal topiary, Chass said proudly. Mathematical structures generated by the stem-forms of the cogitators planted here.

It is a wonder.

Lord Chass looked around at Gaunt. It leaves you cold, doesn't it, Gaunt?

Cold is too strong a word. It leaves me puzzled. Why am I here?

You are an unusual officer, Gaunt. I have studied your record files carefully.

So have the housemaids, Gaunt said.

Chass snorted, taking a cropping wand from his belt. He began to use it to shape the glowing, fractal hedges nearby. For different reasons, I assure you. The maids want husbands. I want friends. Your record shows me that you are a surprisingly moral creature.

Does it? Gaunt watched the noble trim the light-buds of the bush, disinclined to speak further.

True to the Imperial Cause, to the crusade, but not always true to your direct superiors when those motives clash. With Dravere on Menazoid Epsilon, for example. With our own General Sturm on Voltemand. You seek your own way, and like a true commissar you are never negligent in punishing those of your own side who counter the common good.

Gaunt looked out across the vast hive below them. Another sentence or two and you'll be speaking treason, Lord Chass.

And who will hear me? A man who roots out treason professionally? If I speak treason, Gaunt, you can kill me here.

I hope we can avoid that, lord, Gaunt said quietly.

So do I. From the incident in the Privy Council the other day, I understand you do not agree with General Sturm's tactical plan?

Gaunt's measured nod spoke for him.

We have something in common then. I don't agree with House Sondar's leadership either. Sondar controls Croe and Anko is its lapdog. They will lead us to annihilation.

Such machinations are far above me, Lord Chass, Gaunt pointed out diplomatically.