Dark Foundations (67 page)

“As it happens, yes, sir.” There was no mistaking the brooding anger in Hanax's words. “Both the pilotage board and the lord-emperor seemed to think I'm capable.”

“Very good. Well, now that the mission is winding down, I may let you have more chances to prove it.”

“Thank you, sir.” The words came out from between tightened lips.

“Very well. She'll be all yours. Call me if there are decisions you need help with.” He felt himself smile. “Just don't scratch her paint.”

That night, when Merral lay down in the annex to the war room he found that, despite his exhaustion, he couldn't sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, the terrible images of the men, women, and children of Tantaravekat flooded back into his mind. When he tried to shift from thinking about them, the idea that the three-quarters-of-a-million-ton monstrosity that was the
Triumph of Sarata
hung overhead, ready to destroy everything, brought no comfort.

Suddenly, just after midnight, he was aware of a figure—darkness made tangible—seated in the corner of the room.

“You!” he said, sitting up on his mattress.

“Commander.” Was there a bow of the head? “I have come on the eve of the war. The storm is about to break.”

Merral sensed something different about the envoy. There seemed to be a new solidity to him, a power that there hadn't been before.
He is a soldier too
.

“I am glad to see you. We have had terrible losses.”

“I was there. I saw what happened.”

“And you didn't do anything?”

The envoy seemed to sigh. “That is not a new complaint. But you must remember that the King has already acted by taking flesh, bearing evil, and defeating it. Had he not, events such as Tantaravekat would be daily occurrences. Indeed, they once were. And you must remember too his promise that, one day, he will return and such evils will be no more.”

“May that day come soon.”

“That is a wise and ancient prayer. Now, though, I am sent to bring you both encouragement and warning. First, I can confirm that although those you face seem mighty, they are weakened. Like all the servants of the enemy in every time and place, fear eats away at them. Among other things they are troubled by the idea that the one whom their prophecies warn them against may be present. That fear has become focused on you. They have learned that you bear a token from their last defeat and they have heard rumors that you walked unscathed through the ship at Fallambet.”

“I find that unfortunate.”

“On the contrary, as it did before, it will blind them to other threats. And they have other failings. Pride and malice have weakened them and they have sought the advice of demons. There they will find, as was known of old, that such counsel betrays them in deepest consequence.”

Merral sensed strange eyes searching his. “But if I bring you encouragement, I also bring a warning. In all you do, watch yourself, and do not take for granted the mercy of the Most High. Specifically, I charge you not to stray far from Isterrane. Evil is at work in your world's capital and you must be present to combat it.”

“In Isterrane? Very well. But where will you be?”

“Commander, such battles are fought on more than one plane. Not all war is visible to your eyes. As you know, there are rules. If your enemy breaks those rules—and you may assume he will—then I am authorized to come to your aid. But not until then. Now I must go.”

“Wait . . . the ship—this
Triumph
—can you destroy it?”

“Of course. The prebendant is right about that. In a moment. And were it the right thing to do, I would take great delight in doing that very thing. But I cannot stray outside the King's desire. It is the Father's will that his children fight their own battles. Yet the promise I passed on to you of ‘a way of defense' has not been forgotten. But remember, it comes at a price.”

There was pause in which Merral could hear only the sound of his own breathing.

“Now as a blessing, I grant you sleep and the best of dreams. You will need all the strength you have tomorrow.”

The envoy rose from the chair and raised a gloved hand. A tiredness like a vast wave descended on Merral. His eyes closed and sleep surged over him with an irresistible force.

A little after one o'clock in the morning, Perena Lewitz arrived at the airport and headed to the
Lanea Willats
. The spotlights seemed to exaggerate the vast bloated shape of the Q-series freighter.

Many people could be seen all around the vessel, refueling, testing, and loading cargo.

So much activity and it all depends on me doing what I have to do right
.

A slight figure sitting on the steps of a spare access gantry rose and walked over with hasty, nervous steps.

“Vero,” she said, her voice heavy.
I wish he wasn't here. . . .
Yet
I'm glad he's here.

“I had to come.”

“Just don't make me change my mind.”

“I won't.”

“Over here,” she said and led him to where they were out of earshot of the others.

“Your ship looks tiny,” he said and she followed his gesture, seeing the black cylinder slung inside the long and voluminous belly hold of the
Lanea Willats
.

“It's called the
Arrow
. It's fast and agile and it's the sort of thing you might use to access the
Rahllman's Star
in a hurry. The
Lanea
will pass within five thousand kilometers of the
Triumph
and I'll be launched at that point. Then I'll head toward Farholme broadcasting the fake summoning codes that Azeras has given us.”

I sound so matter-of-fact
.
We both do.
But if we did not, we might both burst into tears.

“And you checked the ejection mechanism?”

“It's on my to-do list, Vero.”

“The
Lanea
will backtrack to pick you up.”

“I know, as long as there is no risk from debris.”

A silence descended between them that was so intense it seemed solid. She touched Vero's cheek. “Your face is getting lined.”

“I need a holiday,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“Anywhere in mind?”

“Earth. With you.”

“That's not . . . a scheduled flight.” Her eyes felt moist. “Hold me, Vero.”

He held her. “God be with you,” he said, his words barely intelligible.

“And with you,” she replied. “Now let me go.”
Have I ever said a harder thing?
“I have to fly.”

As he turned and walked away into the darkness she could see his shoulders shaking.

Ten minutes later Perena walked carefully along the cramped walkway of the systems access tunnel of the
Arrow
. The air was dry, full of the lifeless, charged smell of electronics and wiring. She knew exactly where among the bewildering array of boxes and cables she had to go.

Knowledge is not the problem
—
obedience is
.

She found the first circuit she wanted. It was clearly marked
Guardian Transponder
and was sealed. Breaking the seal, she ignored most of the switches, and slid a keyboard out. She scrolled past screens of warnings until she reached a single code of letters and numbers, then paused for a second before deleting it.

What to replace it with?
She smiled, surprised at how calm she felt.
This will do for them to repeat.
She typed
The Lamb Will Triumph,
checked various switches, and then closed the unit.

Just one more adjustment to make
. But when she found the box, her hand trembled as she touched it.
Do I need to?
She countered her doubt
. It is the safest way. Success cannot be guaranteed anyway, but this way gives the highest chance. I cannot afford the temptation.

She slid open the lid and stared at the single switch and the solemn red writing above it.
A single flick of my fingers does it. I must do it.

But she didn't.

Many things came to mind. Sunlight on leaves, children's voices, food, Vero's face. Her fingers quivered and her eyes misted over.

Suddenly, she was aware of someone else in the tunnel. She heard the sound of feet, slow, heavy, and measured on the walkway. She turned to see a dark figure blocking out the light. “Is it you?”

“Captain.” The voice didn't seem to belong to the echoing access tunnel. There was a bow of the head and a hat was swept off.

“You are the one I met before in Engineering?”

Silhouetted against the light as the figure was, it was hard to see any details of the face. Yet she felt sure a smile was there. “Yes.”

“Then I owe you thanks. We all do.”

“I was sent.”

“Do you have a name, sir?”

“Yes, but it's not for you to know. Not now.”

“I understand. Why are you here?”

“To encourage you to strike the blow.”

She followed his gaze to the switch. “Is there no other way?”

“What do you think?”

“I think the safest way is to remove the temptation.”

“I agree.”

“This plan of ours: will it work?”

“That I cannot promise.”

“I suppose not. It's not easy. Do you know that?”

“Yes.”
Was there unsteadiness in the odd voice?
“Our Master found it hard.”

“I have a question, sir. Will I be allowed to see you on . . . the other side?”

There was a strange, light laugh. “You will have better things to see. I am concerned whether I will be allowed to see you.” As if struck by a thought, the figure stiffened. “I now realize that one of the problems my kind face in being immortal is that there is a limit to how much you can show your love.”

“I had never thought of that. Do you envy me?”

“In this area, I do.” There was a taut salute. “Have a good journey, Lady Perena.”

Before she could say anything more, he had gone. She turned to the switch and flicked it down hard to the
off
position, then slid the lid closed.

She stared one last time at the words:
Ejection Unit Firing System.

“It had to be done,” she said as she made her way to the cabin.