Ciaphas Cain: Choose Your Enemies

He shook his head with an artistic touch of ruefulness. ‘I beg to differ, commissar. My position makes me responsible for everything which happens here.’ He turned to a grim-visaged man of apparent middle age, whose blue uniform with gold trim marked him out as someone of high rank among the household troops, probably their commander. ‘What happened, exactly?’

To his credit, the fellow didn’t seem particularly put out by the question. ‘Our investigation is continuing, your excellency. We’re keeping an open mind at this stage, but I suspect our guest was targeted in revenge for having uncovered the heretic conspiracy on Drechia.’

‘Preposterous,’ a woman of about the same age, in a dun uniform I didn’t recognise – but which I suspected marked her out as someone senior in the local law enforcers, judging by how close she was standing to the local arbitrator – put in. ‘That would imply collusion between heretics and someone in the governor’s own household.’

‘A possibility we must consider,’ Fulcher said evenly, ‘however distasteful we may find it. No one can be above suspicion in matters of this kind.’ He glanced in my direction. ‘Apart from Commissar Cain here, of course.’ His gaze moved on to the man in the Adeptus Arbites uniform, regarding him with a faintly sardonic air. ‘And you, I suppose, Osric. If these rumours I’ve been hearing about you consorting with an inquisitor have any foundation at all, I’m sure he’d have uncovered any heretical tendencies you might have by now.’

The arbitrator’s face remained impassive, and his voice conversational; used to concealing my own feelings, I must confess I was quietly impressed by his delivery, being probably the only person present who fully appreciated the artistry of his performance. ‘You must be aware, your excellency, that were such an improbable circumstance ever to arise, I would be unable to discuss the matter.’

‘Of course.’ Fulcher clearly had enough sense to heed the thinly veiled warning, settling instead for clapping the man in the blue-and-gold uniform on the back, making him the centre of attention instead. ‘Looks like it’s over to you, Defroy. I’m sure Clarys and Osric will be happy to aid your investigation in any way they can.’

‘Right,’ the woman agreed, while the arbitrator merely nodded, being careful not to say anything that could be construed as acquiescence, and with Vekkman breathing down his neck, who could blame him?

‘Well then,’ Fulcher said, sounding about as enthusiastic at the prospect of discussing an eldar invasion of his world as might be expected, which is to say not very, ‘I suppose we ought to be getting started.’ He glanced in my direction, then back at the somewhat battered air car, with a faint frown of puzzlement. ‘Are you alone, commissar? I was given to understand that you have an aide.’

‘That’s perfectly true, your excellency,’ I agreed, in as bland a fashion as I could contrive, ‘who is unfortunately detained with pressing duties back at our command centre. Colonel Kasteen and Major Broklaw also send their apologies.’

‘Of course.’ Whether Fulcher was relieved or disappointed by their absence was hard to tell. ‘I take it you’d appreciate some refreshment?’

‘I would indeed,’ I agreed.

To my unspoken relief, it seemed most of the hangers-on weren’t going to attend the meeting after all, small groups of them breaking off every time we passed one of the richly carpeted side corridors, muttering among themselves as they went. In fact, by the time we’d passed through the doors of the conference room, only myself, the governor and the arbitrator were left, which came as a bit of a surprise; I’d expected Defroy, the commander of the household troops, to be joining us. His people seemed competent enough, if the grav-speeder pilots I’d already met were anything to go by, and would be among the first to respond if the xenos launched an attack against the upper docks. In fact he’d shown every sign of intending to remain with us until we were within a handful of metres of the imposing bronze doors (embossed, like pretty much everything, with the family crest I’d first noticed when I parked the air car on it – perhaps Fulcher was worried about his visitors pilfering stuff), at which point he received a message on his vox-bead. After listening for a moment he gestured to Clarys, and the two of them disappeared down the corridor after a perfunctory and non-committal apology, conferring in an urgent undertone as they went.

I wasn’t too sure about this; clearly something was going on which I wasn’t privy to, a circumstance I was never happy about. Moreover, it would have been useful to get his perspective on the eldar invasion and how the resources he commanded could best be utilised to counter it.