Aspersum stared into Angel's wrath-reddened eyes. 'Not impressed, boy. You're made of weak flesh while I'm made of iron.'

The Apothecary removed the gag, and Angel spat blood on the corroded floor. 'Take off my chains, despicable traitor,' he wheezed out. 'I'll deliver the Emperor's justice to you.'

'Are you a soldier or a servitor?' Aspersum pursed his scarred lips. 'I've got a little gift for you, boy. But only if you stop being a brat. Something your Chapter Master will never bestow upon you. An ancient suit of Terminator armour. Forged in my family's workshops on Earth.'

'I don't need any of your impure gifts, filthy betrayer!' Angel bellowed tugging at the shackles that bound his wrists. 'Take off my chains, and you'll see the avenging rage of the sons of Sanguinius.'

'Better than being son to a whiny wanker but still second-rate. Guys, take him to the strategium. Show me your bravery in front of your fair lady from the Inquisition if you dare, milksop!'

Angel recoiled at another burst of Aspersum's laughter. Hands in pockets, I paced in the rear of the procession. The dagger. A chance to save Angel from death. If only I had time to finish myself after slaying Aspersum.

Massive doors in the end of the passage opened by themselves before Lord Aspersum. His strategium was a vast hall of polished steel and dark granite, lit with white lamps set in geometric patterns into the ceiling tiles. Aspersum passed by a large hologram projector table with a few high chairs and pointed at a niche hidden from view with a row of angular columns.

It was a big private room decorated with ceiling-high stalls of combat trophies. Probably Aspersum chose favourite items from his collection to adorn his modest campaign tent. Gathered all over the galaxy, from Marine helmets of nearly all Chapters and known warbands to weird xeno weapons. When Aspersum noticed that I had stopped to examine the trophies, he stuck his chin out and gave Angel a look of utter contempt.

'Unlock the shackles,' he ordered. 'Let the whelp at least try.'

The chains tinkled against the floor. Both guards and the Apothecary stepped back to a table covered with black cloth. Rubbing his wrists, Angel glowered at his foe who leaned on the wall, arms crossed on his chest.

'I'm a noble man,' said Aspersum. 'Strike first.'

Angel was panting, his face red and distorted with a grimace of rage and despair. 'We're both unarmed, traitor. So I'll rip out your throat.'

He gave out a fierce yell and leapt at Aspersum. The following combat was a whirl of lightning-fast moves. Aspersum parried and counterattacked. Before I breathed out, his metal fist slammed into Angel's face. Blood and teeth splinters splattered on the floor. Punches and kicks came down like hail. Aspersum grabbed the Blood Angel by the throat and hurled him at the closest column. Blood trickled in vivid red down the dark stone.

'I've fixed up your head, haven't I?' Unharmed by his opponent, Aspersum adjusted his overall. 'Wash your mug and go try on your new suit.'

Angel's smashed lips barely moved. 'May the Emperor's wrath fall upon you after I die'. He coughed and spat out a broken fang.

'Shitty whelp.' A kick of Aspersum's boot threw Angel to the wall like a rag doll.

I knelt down at Angel's bloodied body and hugged him by the neck. 'Kill me first, sir.'

Aspersum just grinned. 'Only fools have pity for losers, silly slut.'

'He's my brother.'

'He's more a brother to me than to any wimpy mortal. I'm not gonna croak the boy. A few good blows to heal his retarded brains.' He waved the guards over. 'Take him down and fix him in the power plant machinery. He'll find out serving in the company is better than feeding battery daemons.'

When the Apothecarion crew left, I leaned on the wall trying to look relaxed, my fingers already on the dagger hilt. As if nothing had happened, Aspersum stepped over the pool of congealing blood and sprawled on a big chair at the covered table.

'Scared, hussy?' He beckoned. 'I talk to wee babes in a different way. They get iron without and iron within when in my company. Pour me a mug of fuel and come over here.'

He clapped his hands, and a small niche opened in the closest wall right under the bright bloodstain left by Angel's head. Inside, there was a small canister, a jar of blue liquid and a steel mug with the company badge engraved on its side.

'Three quarters of fuel and a dash of antifreeze,' said Aspersum when I removed the canister lid. 'We Space Marines are superior to you mortals even in that. A shot of this unholy mixture would send your legendary Sly Marbo to the grave.'

Holding my breath, I handed the mug of reeking drink to Aspersum. He gulped it and pulled me closer by the arm.

'Good hussy. Behave well, and I'll do no harm to you. Take off your carapace. You won't need to fight while you're in my quarters.'

'Sir, you said there'd be psyker stuff,' I decided to change the topic. But when I moved my arm to slip out of his grip, he squeezed it so hard that I hissed.

'I don't like cowards and prudes like your stupid nun. You're in your twenties, stop putting on an act.'

'Space Marines are His Angels, they said. Warrior monks, they said.'

'We had been no monks before the Big Daddy of Ultramar turned the legions to toddler nurseries!' Aspersum roared. 'I'm a soldier. I've always been a soldier since I was born in a gun-tribe of Auro. I had gathered trophies, worked in the weapon-forge and bedded wenches until He took the best of our young champions to fight for Him among the stars. But His wimp of a son, the nerdy boy who would have been a shithouse cleaner in the lowest tribe of Sek-Amrak, thought we weren't good enough. He ordered to kill every tenth among us. To pose as a harsh leader. To replace us with Olympian slugs like Limax.' He showed his metal teeth in a fierce grin. 'Pour me another mug. Quicker, or you'll get a black eye.'

His sudden change of mind gave me chills. I hurried to refill the mug, but another warp-presence made me trip. By some miracle, I didn't spill the drink though Aspersum already swung at me. Soundless as a shadow, the Iron Seer slipped between the columns, his cloak fluttering in the aether wind. He waited in the shadow of a column until Aspersum finished his drink, then greeted his boss with a light bow of his masked head. He'd taken off his power armour, donning flowy shield-robes of grey and gold brocade, interwoven blue threads forming occult runic inscriptions on the chest and hems. His gloved hand that looked like a crooked bird feet without a gauntlet, touched my eyes and cheeks.

'Little sweet swindler,' he crooned. 'If I knew on Auriglobus what do you hide under your pretended faith, I'd have chosen you over the ungrateful astropath-to-be. I'd have burnt out your eyes and ears, broken you and reforged you. I'd have made you plunge deep into the Sea of Souls as your wondrous mark opens the way for the most sublime sorcery.'

'What mark is he talking about, hussy?' Aspersum nudged me in the side.

'Dark Apostle Imudon wanted to sacrifice me to your gods but the honourable inquisitor couple banished the daemon who was about to occupy my body.'

Aspersum frowned at his counsellor. 'I won't let this shithead Imudon anywhere near my citadel, seer.'

'He has only channeled a higher being's power, my lord. We'll take a quest to find that being and win more glorious victories. Arcane books of the Aeldari describe horrible wonders of unknown nature that have always fascinated me. The Lost Queen is one of these. The mark is a subtle clue to discover more.'

'Do your seeing job then.'

'I'll start observing the girl's mind and give her first simple challenges. She'll contact the Queen during the trip, and upon the return I'll open the eyes of her soul and wed it to the warp.'

Aspersum nodded with approval. 'All is good if it makes me stronger. The next Black Crusade is right ahead. I'll carve out a fine piece of the former Imperium for my own kingdom so our daddy can bugger off.'

'He's aware of what's going on in his realm, my lord. It would be wise…' started the Iron Seer.

Aspersum kicked the table leg. 'I don't care a damn about his bloody offended feelings. The whiner won't lift his ass from his throne to give me a thrashing.' He pressed a button on his carapace and waved at me. 'Hey, take off the table cover. Let's have fun after the victorious siege.'

I sighed and pulled the closest corner of the dusty cover, my other hand clasped on the dagger hilt. The cloth slipped down to the floor revealing a strategic simulation table like those favoured by Lords-Militant. Its surface modelled a half-destroyed fort with ruined hangars and storages and an improvised rampart of bomb-ridden rocks. Aspersum pointed at a big drawer in the table side. There were miniature models of marine troops and battle vehicles packed in transparent cases.

A wall panel slid aside when Aspersum pressed another button, and a vid-screen lit underneath. I saw a trashed living room only a bit larger than the ours. Boxes stood in towers that nearly touched the ceiling, small islands of greasy floor peeked through piles of scrap-metal, dried food leftovers and torn packages. Plodia was sitting on the very edge of an oil-stained couch with a handkerchief pressed to her nose. At a cogitator table to the left, Limax, dressed in shabby overalls, was talking to Corydoras, showing him scanned pages of Aeldari script on the screen.

'You've got buddies that fit you at last, milksop!' Aspersum bellowed.

Limax flinched and jumped on his seat. Plodia lowered the handkerchief and pouted her freshly painted lips into the camera. At Aspersum's mocking grimace she sprinkled more perfume on the handkerchief to cover her nose again.

'Aye, sir!' Limax stood upright and shook crumbs off his chest and knees.

'Come over with your model army to celebrate our victory. Maybe the nerdy warlock and the pudgy blank will help you to defend in a less pathetic way.'

Watched by the drowsy Iron Seer, Aspersum opened one of the cases and placed a squad of siege terminators behind the row of ruins.

'Take the assault squads and the serfs, wench,' he ordered. 'You've probably exercised with combat simulation during your apprenticeship.'

'There was a cheap portable holographic table but my mentor sold it to buy booze and rent a room one day when a rival from the Ordo hacked his bank accounts.'

'This one is a relic of my youth. I cast and engraved the models by myself during my first years of service.' He lovingly patted a Warhound Titan and rubbed a stain of corrosion on its head. 'Time pities no one.'

Limax appeared between the columns, carrying a dirty cardboard box in both hands. Plodia and Corydoras helped him to arrange thumbed, poorly painted miniatures inside the fort.

'As always, you've got an advantage. Use it at least once,' said Aspersum. He leaned on his side of the table and activated the small screen in the middle that calculated power and damage.

The Iron Seer clapped his hands. 'I see your victory in the shadows of the warp, my lord.'

Inset lasers marked the range of the first attack. Fort cannons stood ready for the first volley when Aspersum sent forward most of his serfs and tactical marines. The titan, along with a few more war engines, remained hidden in the rocks for away from the cannon fire. Aspersum threw half of the serfs off the board after a number of volleys.

Limax scratched his chin and frowned. He took an assault sergeant miniature but put it back.

'Well, I wait for the next volley. Your thoughts, inquisitor?' He turned towards Corydoras who was tapping on the screen of his dataslate.

'We have a higher probability of success if we use aircraft under the cover of our cannons.'

'There are siege terminators and war engines anyway.'

'Mining teams.'

'You won't win with such a weak force, so you'd better meet the inevitable defeat in a tragic skirmish. Like a real man.' Plodia perched on the table corner, breathing out alcohol fumes.

'It's just the exact model of his own company. Let him learn to fight with a weaker army but use it to the max,' said Aspersum, moving forth an assault squad.

Plodia leaned over to the screen on Limax's side. 'The fortune is against you today, sir. Critical damage.'

Aspersum gave her a stink eye. 'I have more, you fat slut.'

'Sir, may I ask a question?' I looked at a small pile of 'killed' troops on the floor.

'Come on.'

'Your ranks are dwindling with every salvo. Why waste men under the walls while one can send the war engines to draw fire away, with the serfs as repair crews? Then airborne troops and the warlock focus on defeating the enemy commander.'

Aspersum burst out laughing. 'Look, an Imperial is preaching against cannon fodder!'

'I've always had too few acolytes to sacrifice them in a stupid way.'

'You're a weak small wench and fight as one,' he said with hubris common in most Space Marine warlords. 'Stubborn power crushes everything in its way. You'll always remain a petty swindler in the shadow of big generals.'

The Iron Seer giggled. 'Giant beasts often have weak eyesight, but counting their size, that's the problem of the others.'

Aspersum touched the warlock miniature. 'Peeping is your duty, seer. Do you see anything worth telling me?'

'Your victory, sir. On this mock battlefield as well as on the real ones that await us.'

Aspersum's troops perished wave after wave but his assault squads and siege terminators had nearly vanquished Limax's ranged support. Only then the war engines moved forth, led by the sorcery-driven titan. Limax blushed and went pale, scratched the back of his head and wiped sweat off his face. Corydoras kept on calculating attack and defense combinations under his wife's dramatic stare.

'Do the old prick, man.' Plodia drank a generous gulp from a flask she took out of her cloak pocket. 'I would promise you a kiss or even more if I wasn't taken by the Lord Inquisitor.'

Aspersum snickered and emptied the antifreeze jar. 'As if there's one who wants you apart from your sluggish warlock!'

'My lord, is it fair to speak so of my distant but still precious relative?' the Iron Seer crooned.

'Screw you both, damn Lunatics.'

Corydoras looked obviously puzzled but the sorcerer just shrugged his shoulders. 'The brotherhood ties shared by all scions of Mankind's ancient cradle and its vicinity. A special honour, to be born where the first of us…'

Aspersum slapped on the table. 'Watch over the screens instead of blabbering.'

Parts of fort walls lit red as heavy fire 'destroyed' them. Then Aspersum grabbed his warlord and sent him forward despite the attempts of Limax's gunships and assault marines to counterattack. The sorcerer clapped his hands again. The ruthless iron tide swiped off the scant remains of the fort defence. Two commanders finally clashed when Aspersum's warlord broke through the serfs and tactical marines.

'Critical hit, my lord.' The Iron Seer pointed at the screen. 'Absolute victory.'

Aspersum hurled the defeated commander at Limax. None of Limax's troops 'survived' the crushing assault. Red as a beetroot, the younger Warsmith got down to his knees to pick up the miniatures from the floor. Corydoras started helping but Plodia, dead drunk, lay back on the table and patted Aspersum's warlord on the helmet. Aspersum threw her off with a light nudge of his metal hand.

'Another lesson for you, hussy.' He grabbed me by the waist. 'Victory means smashing everyone who dares to stand against your army. And you shall deliver the decisive blow by yourself. For confidence and for glory. Pour another mug of fuel for the rightful winner.'

A notification lit up on his wrist screen. He scrolled through the message and cussed. 'Bugger off to your room, wench. You four, follow me to the forge.'

Only two standard days later Fluffster thought of me and called me down to the workshop. Worn by the psychic air of despair that filled our room, I thanked the Emperor out loud and took my carapace off the armour rack. Sister immediately raised her tear-swollen face from the couch pillow.

'Don't. Please.'

'I need to see Fluffster. Angel is still somewhere in the forge as well.'

'Uncle is ill. Stay with us.'

I nodded at her. 'Be brave. I have to find out more to act. Pray for us all.'

Already closing the door, I noticed the familiar glint of silver under a chair. The book left the van to tempt me with another easy solution of all this bullshit. I sighed and slammed the door shut. On the way down I stopped before the sealed door of the cell with the van. Fluffster visited it twice a day, as he'd written, but I felt obliged to pay attention to my newest friends-in-mishap.

'Lucia,' I sent to the warpseer.

'Girl,' her whisper reached me. 'A bad place, but better than the shrine. Say a prayer. He has found us. They're in pain, in the jail of the ship. Say a prayer for me and for them. And for the young fellow. I cannot wake him up.'

The gate of the forge opened before me, and scorching malodorous air burned my lungs. Lit by coloured warp-fire of daemon-fuelled furnaces, giant machine tool constructs walked the vast hall on metal spider legs, directed by teams of Dark Mechanicus tech-adepts. Some of them crafted or repaired familiar-looking armour or weaponry, but most gathered around giant fire pits where tainted metal was fused upon the writhing unflesh of bound daemons. Whispering litanies to the Emperor, I hurried forward where the specular mountain of the Lost Queen towered over the busy anthill, reflecting warp-light in shifting kaleidoscopic patterns.

Fluffster waved his paw from the mid-level platform of the cursed siege tower where he was watching over a group of psyker serfs who pressed small shards of blackstone to the surface in places shown by Corydoras. The mirror-smooth silver swallowed them with no trace.

Aspersum appeared from behind, wiping his buzz cut with his oil-black glove. 'Join the other witches, hussy. It goes quicker every day. Soon the Queen will blow up many a citadel in the Cadian sector.'

I saw Fluffster move away to the other side of the tower. The right moment. 'Sir, Lord Crinitus is no simple Magos. I bet you know more about his cricetid kind.'

'All I can say, he's older than he pretends to be. My family on my mother's side had old ties to the Terrawatt clan. Things forgotten by now. He handles the old machinery like he's long used to.'

'He has knowledge of the Necrons and their tech.'

'Not surprised. Come on inside.' He slapped me on the rear and pushed me towards the entrance to the lower level curtained with aether aurora of changing colours.

It was a mirror hall with peculiar wraithbone constructs centered around a pulsing heart of warp-flame. With a shiver down my spine I saw cages with bound captives hovering around the heart on strings of unlight. One of the cages descended to the floor when Aspersum walked up to the heart. Angel was there, chained spread-eagle to the wraithbone frame, emaciated as if he'd been starving for months.

'Came to your senses, milksop?' Aspersum shouted.

'Curse upon you, traitor,' Angel wheezed out, trying not to show pain.

'You Imperials all get lobotomized, don't you?'

I pursed my lips. 'If so, your Stormbringer would have stayed whole while I'd be attacking it shouting pious quotes.'

'I don't mean you, smug slut. Inquisitors are the only ones to have an ounce of common sense in the Imperium.'

The Iron Seer was standing on a spiral staircase over the heart that connected the hall to the upper levels. 'Glad to see you, sweetling. Time to learn something new.' His honeyed tone couldn't hide his hatred pouring into the aura of the tower.

I spent days after days working in the mirror halls with blackstone and runes from dawn till dusk until I nearly fell asleep with fatigue. The Iron Seer, prone to slackery as always, often left the forge for his own business but his enchanted collar and wristbands burned my soul like white-hot metal if I broke the mind-link with the tower for a mere second. Despite Fluffster's initial promises, Uncle and Sister didn't show up in the forge, and the sorcerer kept me away from the cricetid.

Three weeks had passed, and Aspersum finally announced the last day of the repairs. By then I was so pooped out I could barely sleep at night. Most of my dreams were senseless scraps of surreal warp images and daemon whispers that didn't bring rest. On the last night, the nightmares I hated and feared suddenly returned. Countless red lights glowed on the dark walls of the shrine, and packs of shadows slipped past me as I was walking towards the row of Chaos altars. Freezing wind was blowing from half-open wall gates, the hatch to the undervaults was a pitch-black pit waiting to swallow any careless visitor.

The Dark Apostle stood half-turned over the gaping hole, in the shadow of vault columns. As I stopped on the other side of the hatch, he looked down at me, and his red eyes glared as dying embers in soot. His unholy seals fluttered under another gust of wind when he raised his hand.

'You have taken my most loyal slave from me, Inquisitor. How are you going to repay the debt?'

I shook my head. 'Well, your worshipfulness, I was sure they had kicked you outta here.'

'This is the place where the offering must be made. Where the gods command you to arrive.'

'Lord Aspersum would object. He thinks you're a shithead so don't even try to steal his workers.'

'His opinion means nothing. There is a thing you should do to quench the wrath of the gods. The impious warsmiths have taken the Lost Queen and bound the warpseer's daemon to its hull. They hope to use it without due respect for the Great Powers of the Immaterium. Consecrated it to the gods. Leave a path for their blessed energies. Draw their mark on the mirror surface.'

A repulsive sigil of unnaturally twisted shape lit up in the air as my nemesis waved his gauntlet. The one that had become my career start and my curse. His mark left over my heart.

'Do it yourself if you need it.' For the first time in my dreams, I moved my numb hands with great effort and folded it in the sacred sign on my chest. The sigil melted. Imudon reached for me but the gloomy shrine view vanished at a distant call. I opened my eyes and sat up on my couch in the shaded room.

Fluffster was standing in the middle with his case of tools. 'Get up, Volentia. Let's spend the last few hours in the forge and start packing for another trip.'

'We have to do something to help Angel.' I knew I should avoid the slippery theme of nightmares.

'I'll try to persuade Aspersum today. He's got a good head on his shoulders.'

Headache ceded only at midday when I finally got rid of the psychic monitors and left the forge to spend the remaining time till departure on my own. We were allowed to move through the levels outside of the serf quarters but the repair work had been so intense I had seen Plodia and Corydoras for a couple of times only. I got to their room and knocked on the door but the place was empty. Limax had probably led them away to assist him in the campaign preparations.

Going back to my depressed crew didn't sound tempting. I pressed on the topmost button of the elevator panel. The ascent lasted for an eternity, longer than the usual way down to the nether furnaces. At last, the door opened. There were a few closed doors and one half-open. Outside air was blowing in from atop a corroded stairway in the doorway. Auspexes didn't react when I slipped outside and started climbing.

Pallid ashen sky unfurled above as I pushed the last door to the top of the tower. The black sun hung in the zenith, and threads of dark smog were rising towards its sinister disk from hundreds of rock forges. I gasped for air that seemed almost fresh after the hell of the workshop. Hot winds from beneath reeked of metal and tasted like blood.

Contemplating the dour landscape on the other side of the observation deck, the Iron Seer stood leaning on the fence like a crooked statue. He didn't even turn his vulture head but his voice sounded shrill inside my head. 'Good you've come so soon.'

'My workday is over, sir,' I reminded him coldly.

'The Great Work of magic never ends, apprentice.' He called me like that for the first time. 'You've seen a curious dream today. Something that confirmed one of my boldest ideas. Unfortunately, I couldn't see the sigil itself.'

'This is my private feud with the old preacher shithead.'

'You know so little.' He giggled under the mask, black sunlight pooling in dark bruises on lazuli and gold. 'I summoned you to show you a few wonders. Here, the border between real and irreal is so thin. Almost nonexistent. Look deeper. Into the pit of the sun. Into the beating heart of the mountains and boiling magma in their veins. Into the hidden palaces within and armouries without. Become one with the world of iron and take wing without fear.'

Vertigo struck me. I heard my own cry, then the place shivered and drifted down. Eerie forms woven from black unlight flickered around. A mile beneath, two bodies froze up on grey tiles. Two small stains of colour. White skies above, the colossal forge-megapolis underneath, circled by wastes lost in aether haze. Hundreds and thousands of soulfires. Screams of slaves and howls of daemons hit my ears. I gave out a cry and soared higher, lost in the cacophony of images and sounds.

'The first time is the hardest, sweetling,' the Iron Seer's screeching voice reached my mind. A twisted form of a giant vulture was hovering next to me, spreading its wings with blade-sharp feathers to bask in the black radiance. 'What a fancy little eaglet you are.'

I fluttered my own wings, struggling with aether gales pulling me away from the Iron Seer's warp projection.

'Fly on, follow me. That's the real sight. The real flight. You'll learn to change skins and shapes, to sneak unnoticed to human minds and warp-realms. It's worth giving up your eyes, your healthy legs and arms. The silly girl betrayed me on Auriglobus to have her mind shackled by the Anathema. Be wiser.'

He headed to the highest cliff almost touching the sun disk. Dragged on by his aura, I could see every tiny speck of ore in the rock solid, every room or workshop hidden in the caves. Sorrow, bitter sorrow oozing from the depths. A spark of warm living fire glistening in the very heart of the dark citadel. Different from daemon unlight that filled the numerous forges.

'What's this place?' I called out to my guide.

'Where I planned to lead you. My lord father's arcane Fortress of Hate where he's musing over the grieves of past and hopes of future. You have gifts for his lordship so bow down and offer your life and soul. Your ancient sage knows much of what he strives to obtain. Your warpseer had seen the greatest mysteries of Chaos. And you're one of the living hints to those mysteries.'

Chill pierced me despite the scorching heat of fumes. 'Back. I'm going back.'

'Little coward, you were braver in your previous ventures.' He giggled again and flapped his wings. Blade feathers of steel and gold clanged when the fortress stirred at his call. 'Do you hear me, lord father?'

Another voice answered, dull and hollow, an echo of metal resonating at a blow. 'I do.'

'Your loyal son has come to bend the knee at your throne, with gifts of great value.'

'Taint. Foul, black taint dragging behind you.'

The vulture shook his head. 'I've brought along a witch. One marked with sorcery ancient and mighty. Let her speak to you.'

I recoiled. Fire, living fire deep inside. Fire I couldn't take my eyes off.

'Speak or you won't leave the place alive!' the Iron Seer cried.

Haywired by the sorcerer's treachery, I tried to utter at least a single word. Thoughts eluded me, everything but the spark of fire blurred into spots of dirty grey.

'My lord!' I breathed out almost soundlessly. 'Pardon my silence as my soul is dazzled by your fire.'

'The fire of my Father. Even in the darkest of depths…

He sees me.

He sees you…'

With a yell of terror I rushed back to my body. Miles of abyss underneath my physical eyes. I froze, unable to move, but the Iron Seer's bony fingers pulled me down from the fence. He put me on the tiles and slapped me across the face. I bit my lip at the stinging pain, and he slapped me again.

'Brat. Do you realize what you've just done?'

I breathed out and flopped down to the floor at the belated shock. One of His sons had spoken to us. Distorted by the warp and his old treason, he was still an ancient wonder barely any mortal happened to see. But even millennia in the daemon realm hadn't quenched the spark of holy flame He had planted in His child's soul.

'Listen well,' the Iron Seer went on. 'You'll give your buddies out to me along with the book you're hiding, and we head to the Fortress of Hate where you undergo the rites.' He paused for a few moments, and I felt his eyes stare into mine from under the mask. 'Or I'll tell Lord Aspersum who's hidden in the van alongside the warpseer.'

'How did you find out?'

'I've known your little secret since the moment I saw your van. But I decided to keep the trumps up my sleeve. Try to lure the cricetid out and make him open the van. You might try to stab me with your hidden shard but Lord Aspersum has special punishments for those who assault his counsellors and lieutenants. For their friends first, of course.'

I pulled a diplomatic smile, recalling litanies of mind-fortification. 'Just don't tell Aspersum. Meet you here in half an hour.'

'If you deceive me, Lord Aspersum's wrath will fall upon your head. He'll brand you all as slaves, make your nun and your hired gun clear mines on the battlefield, execute your Angel and chain your cricetid in his quarters to interrogate him. As for the poor son of Dorn, he'll die a slow gruesome death.'

'Let's avoid gory images by now. I'm a person people usually trust.'

'Remember, I can save you all. We'll fly forth, to places of wonder and awe.'

I sighed. 'I cannot share your enthusiasm. Hoping for the mercy of iron, what a perspective.'

'You've got some iron within, sweetling. But not enough.'

I ran downstairs before he could say anything more. Something I shouldn't share with even Fluffster. A trap I'd got into because of stupid overconfidence. None of my friends would approve but I had to resort to the last weapon.

When I reached our room, it was already empty as I'd expected. The glint of silver on the floor was where I'd seen it last time. I shook dust off the cover with trembling fingers, closed my eyes and opened the grimoire.