Ciaphas Cain: Choose Your Enemies

The truck lurched, with a squeal of brakes, and we came to a halt so close to the centre of the wide circle of gravel in front of the house that our driver, who might as well have been a servitor for all the notice he’d taken of our presence alongside him, could have measured it with a ruler. He turned his head, and spoke to us for the first and last time. ‘Here we are,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ I replied, as politeness costs nothing, and it never hurts to let people think you care. I popped the passenger door and climbed out, followed by Defroy, in time to see Fulcher clambering down from the flatbed. He didn’t seem to have enjoyed the journey very much, although it had been short, mainly among the dock traffic, before we’d turned off along the tunnel leading to the gateway to the dome. Never­theless he rearranged his composure, glancing over my shoulder at the grand entrance to the house behind us. On this side of the structure, two quarter-circular wings swept out from it to enclose the nearest half of the gravelled area we were parked on, and a welcoming party was heading in our direction with all the speed they could manage concomitant with the dignity of their positions. The man in front – tall, greying, and in the most ornate robes – was clearly in charge, and greeted Fulcher accordingly.

‘Welcome home, your excellency. I trust your journey didn’t prove too fatiguing?’

‘Not so you’d notice,’ Fulcher said, neatly skipping over the lives lost in the process of delivering him. He gestured in my direction. ‘This is the celebrated Commissar Cain, who will be our guest for a while. I trust you’ll be able to find him some suitable accommodation.’

‘Of course, sir.’ The major-domo nodded, in exactly the same manner I suspected he would have done if he’d been asked to find some tanna or turn the sun down a bit because it was too bright.

‘Splendid.’ Fulcher turned back to me. ‘Anything you need, just ask Evander here.’ His bodyguards jumped down from the truck, taking up station just behind his shoulders.

‘Of course, sir,’ Evander repeated, gesturing to the other servants, who promptly began to manhandle the boxes from the back of the truck. ‘I’ll have your luggage taken directly to your private apartments.’

‘Apart from that one,’ Fulcher said, apparently struck by an afterthought, and gesturing towards the crate currently supporting Jurgen’s buttocks. ‘That’s for this evening’s festivities.’

‘Festivities?’ I asked, noting a momentary frown appear on Defroy’s face. ‘Is that appropriate under the circumstances?’

Defroy nodded in agreement. ‘I would earnestly advise the cancellation of the translocation cotillion,’ he said. ‘Inviting guests here while your life may be in danger will hardly help with security.’

Fulcher laughed, in the easy-going manner of someone who’s had his own way about almost everything since the day he first learned to suck his thumb, and wants everyone not to forget it. ‘I have you, your finest guards, and now a Hero of the Imperium ensuring my personal safety.’ Then, with a faintly dismissive gesture to the bodyguards behind him, ‘Plus these two. I think I’ll be safe enough.’

‘As you wish,’ Defroy said, his tone of voice adding ‘however stupid that is’ for anyone who cared to hear it, although Fulcher either didn’t, or chose not to.

Jurgen jumped down from the back of the truck, and crunched across the gravel to join me. Evander’s carefully composed neutral expression flickered for a moment, before settling back into its default setting. Fulcher gestured in the general direction of my aide. ‘This is Commissar Cain’s man. See that he’s taken care of.’

‘Very good, sir.’ Evander turned, with barely visible reluctance, to face Jurgen, while the last crate was manhandled off the back of the truck by a couple of burly servants who seemed on the point of swearing about its weight. ‘If you follow me to the kitchens, I’m sure we can find something to your taste.’

‘I’m sticking with the commissar,’ Jurgen said, inevitably. ‘At least until he’s settled. I’ll find the kitchen when we need it.’ Of which I had no doubt; my aide’s talent for scrounging amounted to a gift from the Emperor, and one from which we’d both benefitted over the years.

‘Then if you’d both care to accompany me,’ Evander said, clearly recognising a lost cause when he saw it, and choosing to address me instead. ‘I’ll show you to your suite.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, following him towards the house, Jurgen falling in at my shoulder as he usually did.

I glanced back. Defroy was gazing after us, his expression pensive, and Fulcher was engaged in some kind of conversation with his body­guards. Most of the servants were trailing after us, lugging the boxes from the truck, although one seemed to be missing; after a moment I spied a pair of their compatriots carrying it across the lawn between them, directly away from the house. Then we were inside, being fawned over by flunkies, and I saw nothing more.