Blood Pact

TWENTY-NINE Exit Wounds

‘Take a seat, Ibram,’ said Isiah Mercure. They were meeting in a room in Section, one of the wings that hadn’t suffered smoke damage.

So, I’m Ibram now suddenly, am I?

‘Full marks for this, sir,’ Mercure said. He was busy at three things at once: a data-slate, a letter, and some reports. ‘Seriously, man, good work. We’re going to run with this. Edur tells me your regiment is prepared to lead the way with the operation? Is that right?’

‘The Tanith First is happy to serve, sir,’ Gaunt replied.

‘Well, I can tell you,’ said Mercure, flashing a quick grin as he finished and closed the data-slate report, ‘that’s good news. It’s great to get good people on your side. You think you can handle it?’

‘My regiment is mobilised, sir. We’ll be heading towards Salvation’s Reach within the week.’

‘A lot depends on this, Ibram,’ said Mercure, ‘and I won’t be there to hold your hand all the way.’

‘I understand, sir,’ said Gaunt. ‘I have just one question. The Inquisition, what has it been told?’

‘Just that the valiant Inquisitor Rime was lost in action during a Chaos uprising,’ replied Mercure.

‘I see. I’d rather not have the holy ordos on my back, on top of everything else.’

‘Understood.’

‘And I want Blenner and Criid released to my jurisdiction.’

‘Agreed.’

‘You can fix that?’

‘You have friends in high places, Ibram,’ Mercure mocked. ‘And you have friends in very low places too. How’s the etogaur?’

‘Stable. Eager to help. He’s–’

‘What?’ asked Mercure.

‘A good man,’ said Gaunt.

‘I had a horrible feeling you were going to say that,’ said Mercure. He stood, and walked to the side table. ‘A drink? A toast?’

‘Why not?’ replied Gaunt.

Mercure poured two sacras and handed one of them to Gaunt.

‘You do realise that you won’t be coming back from this one alive, don’t you?’ Mercure asked.

‘That’s what they tell me every time I ship out,’ Gaunt replied.

‘Really? Damn,’ said Mercure, and chinked glasses. ‘Cheers anyway.’

‘We’re shipping out in a week,’ said Ban Daur. ‘I think you should come with us.’

‘Oh, right, yeah. Why?’ asked Elodie.

‘Because I can’t kiss you like this if you’re light years away,’ he replied.

‘Like what?’ she asked.

He showed her.

‘Right,’ she nodded, ‘I’d better come with you then.’

The vast space of the Honorarium was full of faint echoes and a sense of eternity. On their last day on Balhaut, the Tanith First marched into the temple for a special service of benediction. It was a warm, bright day, the snow long gone, and most of the damage done to the building during the final battle had been repaired. They wore their number one uniforms, and their marching was impeccable, even though they had been stagnating in turnaround for two years.

Once the service was done, and the platoons had filed out, Gaunt walked with Dorden around the rim of the great temple, pausing to look into the side chapels. The bandsmen of the ceremonial brigades were packing up. Drums were being muffled and rolled into their boxes. Buglers and horn blowers were cleaning their instruments, the chin straps of their caps still hooked up over their noses.

Gaunt hadn’t realised how old Dorden had got. The walk was slow.

‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ Dorden said.

‘Yes?’

‘It’s not an easy thing, and you won’t like it,’ Dorden added.

‘Let me show you this first,’ Gaunt said.

He led the way into one of the side chapels.

‘Oh, great Throne,’ Dorden gasped.

‘All the satellite chapels have been dedicated to the worlds lost in the first years of the crusade,’ Gaunt said. They sat down together on one of the pews in the side chapel. ‘This is the memorial chapel dedicated to Tanith. This is what Jaume wanted me for, to make a portrait of me to sit on display in here. Can you imagine?’

‘I can’t,’ Dorden replied. He had tears in his eyes.

‘I know. Look, I wanted you to see this, Tol. Of all people, you needed to know this place existed.’

‘Thank the Throne you did,’ Dorden replied.

They sat back, side by side, on the new, waxed pews, and gazed up at the hololithic projection of Tanith.

‘It was a pretty world, wasn’t it?’ Dorden asked.

‘It was,’ Gaunt agreed. ‘Oh, something else. It seems, I’m dead.’

‘What?’

‘According to the guides who work around here, I died during the Famous Victory. You can pay to visit my death venue.’

‘That’s funny,’ Dorden chuckled.

‘No one remembers anything properly,’ said Gaunt. ‘Everything gets twisted and forgotten.’

Dorden nodded. ‘Except the things we care to remember ourselves.’

Gaunt sighed. ‘When they told me about it, I wondered for a moment if I had died here. I wondered if I had died at the Gate and become a ghost, and had been a ghost for all the time I had been with the Tanith.’

‘I can see how you might have arrived at that conclusion,’ replied Dorden. ‘Who am I to deny it?’

Gaunt smiled, and nodded.

‘I need to tell you something,’ Dorden said, turning to look at Gaunt.

‘A bad something?’ Gaunt asked.

‘I said you won’t like it.’

‘All right,’ said Gaunt.

Dorden sat back.

‘I did the examination. I tested that old bastard.’

‘Zweil?’

‘Yes. I did all the tests.’

‘Something’s come back, hasn’t it?’ asked Gaunt.

Dorden nodded. ‘Leukaemia. Blood cancer. It’s all through him.’

‘Oh, Throne. How long?’

‘Zweil? That old bastard will live forever.’

‘But–’

Dorden sighed. ‘He doesn’t like the blood tests, does he? Old Zweil doesn’t like needles. I had to show him how to do it.’

‘So?’

‘When my back was turned, he switched the samples.’

‘So… oh no. No. No!’

‘Hush,’ said Dorden.

‘My eyes won’t let me cry,’ Gaunt said, looking at his old friend.

‘It’s probably best that way.’

‘How long?’

‘Six months, if I’m lucky. But I want to keep going. You know, and Ana knows. Don’t tell anyone else. I want to fight to the end. I want to serve to the end.’

Gaunt nodded.

‘And I’d like to rest here when I’m done,’ said Dorden.

Gaunt looked up at the roof of the Tanith chapel. The dead had a knack of finding their way back to Balhaut.

‘I’ll make sure of it,’ he said.