such a gesture would be seen as a sign of disrespect. In fact, many of the jarred experiments had been slaves who had shown Master Muhr disrespect. He thought better of the idea and climbed the staircase.
It was the first time he had been up this far, and frightened though he was, it was difficult not to be awed by the view. He stood in a circular observation deck. The heavy drapes had been pulled back and beyond the void glass was a three hundred and sixty degree view of deep space. It was a never‐ending darkness, an infinite deepness interrupted by the fizz and pop of billions of stars. Thousands of kilometres away, a pillar of gas was ponderously exhaling, its plume resembling the head of a horse. Grae knew its unfathomable distance, yet it seemed to rise so close, almost eclipsing his vision. It felt as if a horse‐headed god was peering into the tiny viewing glass of his interior.
‘The void glass will need resurfacing and cleaning,’ Grae muttered to himself as he climbed higher up the staircase. He was talking to himself out of fear. Shaking his head, the slave began to climb to the top level.
But that was when all the glow strips faded out.
Grae almost dropped his satchel there and then. Startled, he fumbled to turn on his phos‐light but the bulb had fizzed out. It was strange, as he had made certain to place a fresh bulb into the hand light when he set out. Shaking his head, Grae began to grope his way upwards, cautiously tapping the ground before him with the ore stave.
The air was coarse with chill and Grae became acutely aware that he was shivering. The loincloth and studded iron belt he wore afforded no warmth and he wore nothing else, for his masters were wary of concealed weapons. As he ran his hand along a wall panel, it left a furrow in the hoar frost there.
‘Witchcraft,’ Grae moaned. He felt as if he were going to be sick.
Grae had been a governor’s aide before the Blood Gorgons ransacked his world. His daily job had been receipt of aerial parcels and message wafers for the governor’s Chamber of Commerce. It was dreary work for the most part, but once Grae had seen an adept of the Astra Telepathica transmitting urgent interstellar messages from the governor’s office. The eyeless man had spooked him, and Grae had become withdrawn in his presence, showing more timidity than he would have liked. By the time the adept had finished his work Grae remembered vividly that the room had become freezing and he’d spent considerable time mopping up the after‐frost. The adept had wet the parcel shelves and frozen the ink in his typographer.
26
He was shocked out of his thoughts as something brushed past him. Grae turned around but saw nothing, or rather, could see nothing. It had been astonishingly quick, like a brisk tug of his clothes.
‘Master Muhr?’
He climbed the next few levels slowly, calling for his master the entire way. The air grew colder. He almost lost the skin of his left palm when he placed it on the hand rails.
‘Master?’
At the upper atrium, Grae froze. He heard voices. Master Muhr was talking to someone.
Not daring to interrupt, Grae crept to a standstill at the top of the stairs, glad that he was hidden within the shadow. He stood within the folds of the curtain with his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. In the periphery of his vision, Grae could see the atrium was bathed in a green light. A forest of black curtains as tall as trees hung from the ceiling; beyond that, he could see nothing else.
‘Then it is done. The ambush was clean and the dark eldar performed excellently.
Gammadin is dead.’
‘That’s a good start, Muhr, but we need better assurance,’ said a voice that Grae could not recognise.
‘Only a start,’ Muhr rasped. ‘The Crow has begun the sowing of Hauts Bassiq.’
‘Plague and famine, Muhr – you’ve promised plague and famine for so long.’
Grae tried not to listen, he even blocked his ears. These were things a slave had no right to know, he was sure of it.
‘The Crow will maintain his side of the bargain,’ Muhr retorted. ‘He needs our hand in this as much as we need his.’
‘And what of Sabtah?’ the voice inquired.
‘I will kill Sabtah myself,’ Muhr answered.
Grae squeezed his eyes together and held his breath. Most of what he heard he did not understand, but