Dan Abnett - Ghostmaker

'I apologise, commissar,' Lilith said. 'I had been told you were in a planning session. I would not have sent my men in if I had known you were sleeping here.'

'You'd have had my rooms searched had I been absent?'

She turned to him and laughed. It was attractive, confident – and hard. 'Of course! I'm an inquisitor, commissar. That's what I do.'

'What, precisely, is it you're doing here?'

'The boy.' She pulled out a chair and sat back, leaning against the back rest with relaxed ease. 'I need to know about the boy. Your boy, commissar.'

Gaunt stayed where he was and fixed his gaze on her. 'I don't like your tone, or your methods,' he growled. 'If I continue not to like them, I can assure you the fact you are a woman won't—'

'Are you really threatening me, commissar?'

Gaunt breathed deeply. 'I believe I am. You saw what I did to your lackeys. I won't stand for this unless you show me good reason.'

Lilith sighed and steepled her long, pale fingers. Then she pointed the compact laspistol right at Gaunt.

He started, amazed. She had not moved, but now she held a gun which had been lying right across the room from her.

'How good a reason do I need?' she asked, smiling. Gaunt stepped back.

'That little demonstration would seem good enough…'

Lilith smiled and dropped the gun into her lap. She clasped her hands together again and set her head back.

'Good. We'll begin. By the proclamation of the Most High Emperor, governed as I am by His will, in totality, till the end of all days, as a servant of the Inquisition, I require you to furnish with me with answers of complete truth and veracity to your best knowledge. The penalties for deception are manifold and without limit. Do you understand?'

'Get on with it.'

She smiled again. 'Hike you, commissar. ''The very devil'', they said. They were right.'

'Who's 'they'?'

Lilith didn't answer. She rose, holding the pistol loose in her left hand. She circled Gaunt. He was unnerved by her masculine height and her unblinking stare.

'Skipping further formalities, as you suggest, why don't you tell me about the boy?'

'What boy?'

'So coy. His name is Brin Milo, a Tanith native, part of your cadre but a civilian.'

'What do you want to know, inquisitor?'

'Oh, everything, Ibram; everything.'

Gaunt cleared his throat. 'Milo is… here by chance. The regimental piper, mascot… my aide.'

'Why?'

'He's smart, sharp, eager. The men like him. He can do the jobs I ask of him quickly and efficiently.'

Lilith held up a finger. 'Start from the beginning. Why is he here?'

'When Chaos fell on Tanith, and consumed it, I elected to withdraw all the able bodied men I could from the world. My own exit was barred and the boy intervened, clearing my way. In gratitude, I took him with me. He's too young for infantry, so I made him my aide.'

'Because of his skills?'

'Yes. And because there was nothing other to be done with him.'

Lilith came close to Gaunt and stared into his eyes. 'What are his skills?'

'Efficiency, ability, keenness to—'

'Really, commissar. You can admit it. Taking a liking to a clean-limbed young cabin mate and—'

The slap resounded in the close air of the cabin. Lilith didn't flinch. She turned away, laughing.

Very good. Very direct. So we can cut the crap, can we? I have notice that the boy is a witch. How do you respond?'

'He is not.' Gaunt swallowed. 'The poison of the warp turns my guts. You think I would have truck with it for a second?' He paused. 'Present company excepted, naturally.'

Lilith circled him. 'But he's useful. I've done my ground work, Gaunt. He predicts things, guesses them before they happen… attacks, incidents, what files the commissar needs. What the commissar wants for breakfast—'

That's no witchcraft. He's smart. He anticipates.'

There was a game… a scam… in the lower decks. He was a key part of it. He knew how to win it. He was perfect in his guesses. What do you say to that?'

'I say: who put you up to this?'

'Does it matter?'

'It was Sturm, wasn't it? And his pet ox, Gilbear. They have an agenda; how can you trust their word?'

She faced him and fixed him with her eyes. 'But of course. They cannot hide it from me. Sturm and Gilbear hate you and despise your Ghosts. They tried to obliterate you on Voltemand and failed. Now they seek to bring you down by whatever means they have.'

Gaunt was almost speechless. 'You know this and still you come here?'

'I'm an inquisitor, Ibram,' she replied with a smile. 'Sturm and his men are brutes. I have no interest in their internecine hatred for you and your men. But ford Militant General Bulledin has brought me here to assess and sanction the dan gers of witchcraft during the liberation of Monthax. Enemy witchcraft… and also that which lurks within like a cancer. The boy has been brought to my attention and I am duty bound to examine the evidence. They say he's a witch. I don't care why they say it or what they hope to earn from such accusations. But if they're right… That's why I'm here. Is Milo touched? Is he psyker? Don't protect him, Gaunt. It will be so much the worse for you if you do.'

'He isn't. This is all political nonsense. The Bluebloods have seen a potential weakness they wish to exploit.'

'We'll sec. I need to speak with this Milo. Now.'

To be summoned by his commissar during night cycle was not, I new experience for Brill Milo; there were often out-of-hours errands to be run. But as soon as he arrived outside Gaunt's quarters, he realised something was wrong. Gaunt was in full dress uniform, with jacket and cap, and his face was grim. A tall woman in black with an oddly malevolent air about her waited to the side.

'This servant of the Emperor has some questions for you,' Gaunt explained. He refrained from using the loaded word 'inquisitor'. 'Answer her honestly and directly.'

Wordlessly, Lilith led them down the long deck hall and into the docking ring. They crossed over into the hexathedral itself Milo was apprehensive. He had not set foot on the great docking craft before. The air smelled different, sacred and cool after the stuffy humidity of the troop transport, and the scale of the chambers they passed through startled him. The only people they met were deacons in robes, brown-armoured troopers and small groups of ranking officers. It was another world.

Lilith led the way on a route that took twenty minutes to walk and passed through several main chapels and chambers of the hexathedral, including the Orrery. Gaunt understood her tactics. The route was overlong and unnecessary, except it would disarm and over-awe the boy and make his psychological reserve weaker. She was clever to the point of cruel.

They reached an iris shutter at the end of a long corridor flanked by windows of stained glass. Lilith made a slight gesture with her hand and the hatch spiralled open. She waved the boy inside and turned on the threshold to speak with Gaunt.

'You may attend, but make no interruption. Gaunt, you're a valuable officer, and if this boy turns out to be tainted, I can make it so you suffer nothing more than a slight reprimand for being unaware of his status.'

'A generous suggestion. What are the conditions?'

Lilith smiled. 'We are complementary instruments, commissar, you and I. My duty is to worm out corruption, yours is to punish it. If Milo is corrupt, you will exonerate yourself by performing summary execution yourself. It will reflect your outrage and determination to clean house.'

Gaunt was silent. The possibility clawed at his mind.

There would be no other way to salvage your reputation, command or career. Indeed your very life may be forfeit if it is thought you conspired to protect a pawn of the Darkness. Do you hear me, Gaunt?'