him and Muhr did not dare to antagonise him. He had other plans.
Yetsugei felt his confines loosen ever so slightly. Their souls grew brighter to him.
The daemon stretched languidly. ‘Ah. How these bonds make me weary.’ He yawned and opened one eyelid coyly. ‘Perhaps you can loosen another?’
‘So you say,’ Muhr replied coldly. He stepped back from the dais.
The witch was no fool, and he knew better than to trust a daemon. Although Yetsugei was their chosen patron, he was a deity and they his mere humans. He appeared to Muhr as a leaping shade, narrow‐waisted and smoky, with horns that formed an intricate crown atop his head – a towering pillar of unreality – a thing from another existence. They trusted him for his prophetic knowledge but not with their lives.
‘Amuse me, then. What favour would you crave of me?’
Muhr cleared his throat. ‘Lord Gammadin is dead.’
Yetsugei yawned. ‘How did Gammadin die?’
Muhr lowered his head solemnly. ‘Lord Gammadin and his warrior few embarked across the warp‐sea to claim a new slave world for harvest. But the pirates of the eldarkind had long ago colonised this world in secret. They were prepared and the battle was their theatre, their stage. We were ambushed and fought on their grounds. I was the only survivor.’
Yetsugei steepled his fingers and fixed his eyes on the witch. Muhr was a good liar, and it was clearly a story he had rehearsed and no doubt recounted many times. But a daemon could see deception against the fabric of reality. Although this was the story Muhr had told the Chapter, Yetsugei knew the witch was hiding his own involvement.
‘Yes, so you spake of his demise, that is not your present plight,’ the daemon purred. ‘It matters not the death of an old champion. Merely that you present a new one to the gods.’
‘Gammadin has appointed me sole guardian in his stead,’ Muhr recited.
The daemon knew this to be a lie too. There were other factions at play here and Muhr was simply one such cog in the machine. But Yetsugei did not reveal Muhr’s lie. He would enjoy whatever plot was to unfold.
‘Tell me, witch. How did he die?’ the daemon asked, baiting the witch to reveal more.
‘Slain by treachery,’ Muhr responded.
That was the truth this time. Yetsugei smiled.
‘I challenge that claim!’ said a low voice. ‘The witch has no proof.’
Yetsugei knew that voice. Sabtah! The daemon clapped with glee. ‘The bond of Gammadin! Come forth! Come forth!’
Sabtah stepped onto the dais from the audience. Yetsugei could see raw aggression rippling from the old warrior. ‘The wardship is mine to hold,’ he stated boldly.
‘So it should be!’ Yetsugei agreed eagerly, straining against the circle of ash and paint.
As he writhed, paint faded from the walls and several of the wards disappeared from the marble. His constraints were breaking. Souls grew closer, brighter.
18
‘Then denounce this man as a liar,’ Sabtah said, stabbing his forefinger at Muhr.
Yetsugei cocked his head. ‘I sense this witch has some power. A foreign power. Perhaps Gammadin has given you this power… or perhaps another…?’
Yetsugei could tell Muhr was beginning to wither under his attention. The witch was being influenced by greater powers, a rival patron perhaps? There was something more to this tale. Gammadin had not simply been slain by the dark eldar in an accident, leaving the witch a sole survivor.
Muhr’s eyes narrowed defiantly, as if sensing Yetsugei’s intent. ‘Gammadin chose me.’
Biding his time, the daemon leaned forwards and smiled at the witch and the old wolf.
‘You must enthrone an Ascendant Champion. Hear me this – do not displease the gods or there will come bad spirits. They will snatch good fortune from your grasp.’
Yetsugei was cracking the seals now. He strained against his weakening confines. He hungered for their souls. Reaching out with his hand, Yetsugei beckoned Muhr closer.
‘Daemon, begone!’ Muhr shouted suddenly, as if angered. He dispelled the coven’s bindings and unravelled the daemon back into the warp. There was a swirl of cold and the wards blackened to ash.
19
CHAPTER THREE
ON THE FIRST day of Swelter, in the Central Territory of Hauts Bassiq, herdsmen of the plains were mustering their caprid for the early morning drove. When they looked up, they saw a dark ochre cloud hidden amongst the swells of the light dawn cumulus. It was the colour of powdered groundnut and seemed to have the same grainy texture. Heavy and brooding, the strange cloud spread out and descended to cap the distant ridges.