Speculum Enigmate Chapter 13

In a palatial apartment suite within the Jade Citadel Manaar considered a painting. He had been standing still for some time, eyes pouring over the canvas, examining brushstrokes and the use of space and light. For Mon-Keigh work it wasn't bad, which wasn't saying much, but on Craftworld Furta-Rith such a piece might have passed for an apprentice's handiwork. Most Mon-Keigh arts were bombastic, rough and unsubtle, looking half-finished to an Eldar but this was superior to the trash the filthy animals so loved. Manaar's time on the Path of the Artist allowed him to appreciate it in a way no human critic could and he discerned the painter's keen vision and deft hand. Surprising that this world could produce such talented artists, perhaps their practice of directed breeding had some merit, on the clumsy Mon-Keigh level at least.

While the painter's execution was passable it was the subject matter that intrigued Manaar. The painting displayed a euphoric pastoral scene, with people laughing and feasting upon agrarian hills, while a red sun lit the sky above. It was a perfect day, filled with joy and happiness and in the centre stood a golden being, with enamelled armour and a flaming sword, surrounded by a halo of light. The message could not have been more obvious: Mankind enjoying the protection and direction of their God-Emperor. A human observer would see the message the Imperium wanted them to see. Yet underneath that was a second, subtler message. The flow of the painting did not draw the eye to the golden being, instead the lines of colour and light flowed around him, passing by as if he was not there. The people did not look to him with adoration but seemingly ignored him, dancing and eating with no reference to his presence. He didn't fit, his armour did not reflect the red light as it should and he seemed almost superimposed upon the image. In this context their Emperor looked to be an afterthought, a cumbersome burden added after the feast had started. The hidden message was clear to Manaar: this world could thrive with or without the Corpse-Emperor and he suspected he may be the only individual to gaze upon this artist's work and divine the concealed message.

Manaar didn't know how long he stood staring at the painting but he became aware of a buzzing in his ear. He forced his mind away but it was a struggle. His soul had once been obsessed with artistic expression and even now the temptation to lose himself in a piece held a strong attraction. He had to forcibly remind himself that he had left that Path for another, the way of the Aspect Warrior, to break his trance. He forced his head away and beheld a palatial suite of rooms, with wide floors and rude furniture. The architects had tried to make it lavish but in typical Mon-Keigh fashion had overdone it, the gold fixtures were heavy and overwrought, the weaves of the rugs messily complicated and the unavoidable Aquila icon looked stamped onto the roof. By Eldar standards it was garish and overblown, but it did command a sweeping vista of the Jade Citadel.

Eirk leaned upon the glassic with his forehead pressed to the surface. The warrior was leering downwards and hissed, "Look at that." Manaar glanced down and saw far below a procession of people, lumpy Mon-Keigh waddling along carrying a litter upon which lounged a corpulent individual, some rich fool lording over his vassals. Yet it was not this that drew Eirk's eye but a courtesan trailing the party, with her head held high, drawing status from her lord's wealth. Manaar's superior sight revealed her features were more symmetrical than average and her body mass distributed in a way the Mon-Keigh found pleasing. Personally Mannar found all Mon-Keigh lumpish, misshapen brutes but even he could concede the way her ebon skin reflected the dim sunlight was pleasant, a shimmering lustre like oil upon water. This one was the exemplar of the planet's breeding program, the careful selection of traits combined to create a superior stock. For a mad second Manaar even considered that if the species as a whole embraced this stratagem then they might not be such insufferably ignorant brutes.

He shook off the thought and said, "Don't waste your time, this world won't let the likes of you sully their genic pool."

Eirk didn't bother to look up as he replied, "Don't count on it; my genes are as good as anybodys. These people should be proud to welcome a fine specimen like me."

Manaar found that laughable but was saved from commenting as Lumix interjected, "Improbable, the Genic screening programs of this world are legendarily precise. Each union is planned meticulously and every offspring assigned a function at birth. Pascum claims to be the only planet in the sector with a mutation ratio of zero. The efficiency of such a system is admirable."

Lumix was busily scrubbing a low table with an acid-laced wipe, his paranoia of germs not letting him stop. In another corner sat the Abomination, with her greatsword laid across her knees as she mediated. She had not moved since they had arrived and Manaar could have admired the focus, were the Sister of Silence not a crime against nature. Of the Inquisitor there had been no sign, Vevara had disappeared into a private meeting with the local ruler and not been seen since.

As if summoned by the thought there was a squawk from Lumix and he straightened up to declare mechanically, "Vox-message: Vevara wants Eirk, Manaar and Lumix to attend her immediately."

Eirk looked up and Manaar flexed his muscles to warm up for the prospect of action, yet he glanced at Mortula and asked, "What about that one?"

Eirk moved past him and explained, "Best not, people tend to be on edge when she's around."

Manaar didn't doubt it, even a blunt race like humans could sense her wrongness, reacting with hostility and anger without knowing why. They left the Sister behind as they departed the apartment, heading out into the Jade Citadel. Manaar felt the restoration of his psychic senses immediately, basic as they were. The physical nature of his surroundings became secondary as the universe unfolded, the chatter of many minds thrumming constantly in the background. One who walked the Path of the Seer could reach out and manipulate those minds, or bend the laws of physics with Warp energies, but Manaar's skills lay in other directions. Yet even with his unschooled abilities he felt an electric tingle, the psychic spoor Koshano had gifted to him so he could find his prey. It was unmistakable, plucked from the Skein and imprinted on the Warp Spider's mind as clear as an auspex signal. Manaar had not the talent to make such a conjuring himself but the power of the Farseers were many and subtle, Koshano had gifted his agent with the ability to track his prey from afar and Manaar was stunned to realise his target was nearby. The mind he had been tasked to seek and eliminate was within this very building. He was elated, one day had he been on this planet and already he had caught the scent of his quarry.

So rapt was Manaar on his discovery that he barely noticed when they entered an ante-chamber, passing a pair of guards who let them pass without question. Inside the gilded room they found Inquisitor Vevara, standing before a looming throne of tubes and bubbling cauldrons. It took Manaar a moment to realise there was a decrepit crone bound within the machine, an ancient hag who made his skin crawl. Mon-Keigh were short-lived and ugly animals, but when they tried to extend their pathetically brief lives the results were hideous. This one was a withered scrap of skin and bone, kept breathing by the machines that bored through her, forcing life into veins and organs that should long have failed. The result was ugly and undignified, offensive even, and he had only just begun to think this planet might not be as bad as the rest of the Corpse-God's empire.

Vevara turned as they entered and stated, "There you are, the Governor and I have reached an agreement. Aleys has been most cooperative."

Aleys sounded uncertain but said anyway, "Yes the Bassail dynasty has always supported the Imperium. The Inquisition is welcome to whatever aid we can offer. No doubt your presence will silence dissenters to the Emergency Tithe."

Manaar had believed the Inquisition had a license to go where it will, but Vevara seemed to want to work with the locals. The Inquisitor declared, "The Inquisition is not here to root out the source of resistance to the Imperial Regent's commands. I shall be investigating all levels of your society, but first I must meet your highest nobles."

"Yes, yes of course," Aleys stammered nervously, "Fortuitously they gather to celebrate my heir's upcoming union."

"Then let us waste no time," Vevara commanded sternly.

That the Inquisitor unnerved the hag was obvious but Manaar cared not for their petty power plays. His psychic senses were thrumming and he realised the target was close, so very close. Within the next room his quarry lurked and he thought he might have a chance, here and now, to eliminate his target and flee. Could it be that easy, he wondered, could he really complete his mission so effortlessly? The hag turned her throne towards a gilded door, which swung open at her approach to reveal a large room, filled with a crowd of humans. Manaar eagerly stepped forward, his senses thrumming. Together they all proceeded into the ballroom and Manaar began scanning the crowd. If he could just match a face to the psychic spoor he would be half-way to completing his goal, once he had the physical appearance of the target there would be no escape, he either finished the prey here and fled or tracked it down later if the target was guarded.

Success was tantalisingly within his grasp but suddenly a deep and booming voice bellowed, "XENOS!" The crowd parted in dismay as three immense giants in war plate strode through their midst, the unmistakable form of Imperial Space Marines. Manaar was instantly on guard, reaching for his weapons, but of course his armour was elsewhere, laying in his sealed trunks. Even with his gear he didn't rate his chances against three of the gene-bulked warriors and unarmoured his odds of success were low, the odds of survival even more slender. The leader of the trio strode through the crowd, a burning axe held in a metal hand and Manaar tensed to leap aside from the coming attack. Yet before the pair could meet Vevara stepped into the way and barked, "In the name of the God-Emperor's Inquisition, desist!"

The Space Marines froze at the sight, their weapons held at bay by the shining silver 'I' on Vevara's throat. The trio could crush her with ease, they could break the woman without any effort at all, but they dared not attack an Inquisitor so openly, not in front of witnesses. Manaar knew enough of their stagnant Empire to understand that the Inquisition held authority overall, to challenge Vevara was to court destruction for every Space Marine who wore their heraldic emblem. Two potentate orders of the Imperium were in direct opposition and the whole room fell silent as the crowd looked on in shock and dismay.

The leader froze, weapon in hand as he spat, "You again?!"

Vevara was facing down death incarnate but showed no hint of anxiety as she stated, "I remember you Brother… Persion. I see you have not forgotten me."

"I thought we'd seen the last of you," Persion hissed, "That you took off for the stars, hopefully never to return."

Vevara's gaze was cool as ice as she stated, "I serve the God-Emperor's will, I go wherever He commands."

Another Space Marine, this one in white armour, spat, "Does He command you to consort with Xenos filth?!"

Manaar heard the crowd gasp in horror at the accusation but Vevara replied confidently, "I may utilise whatever tools and agents I deem fit. Under inquisitorial warrant, any methods necessary are sanctioned."

Persion growled, "You bring an alien to a world of the Imperium. Didn't you learn last time that consorting with Xenos only leads to ruin?"

"My methods are not for you to question," Vevara replied, "But yours are in my remit."

Persion snorted in derision, "You overplay your hand, you don't hold a Carta against my Chapter anymore."

Vevara countered coldly, "None are above the penetrating gaze of the Inquisition."

Persion's face reddened with anger as he hissed, "No more games, step aside and let me kill that Xenos."

Manaar bristled but suddenly the tallest Space Marine leant in and whispered, "Persion, everybody is watching."

It was true the crowd was staring at the altercation, mouths agape as they watched the argument play out. Persion snapped, "I don't care for their worthless opinions, there's an alien in the room that needs killing!"

Manaar could feel the hate pouring off this one, the unthinking zeal programmed into the Space Marine. Yet the white-clad one turned to him and caught his arm in a chained hand and hissed, "This is not our mission, you're shaming the Chapter with your outburst."

"Shame be damned," Persion snarled, "Let go Memnos."

"Don't be a bigger fool than usual," Memnos sneered, "Alien or not you can't attack an Inquisitor's ally in public. You're in command of this mission, try to use your brain not your fists."

Persion growled menacingly, "You can't mean to let it live?"

Memnos urged, "Learn to pick your battles, Persion. This isn't a fight the Chapter can afford, not today."

They stared at each other for long moments then Persion cried, "Warp hells, this is a clusterfrak. Vevara keep your pet but don't act surprised when it bites you. And don't expect us to be in the same room with it."

With that the trio of Space Marines strode off, scattering the crowd before them, uncaring for who they shoved out of the way. The crowd sank back in relief, already gossiping among themselves as to the implications of this confrontation. Vevara for her part merely adjusted the fit of her bodysuit but Manaar was in no doubt she had not defended him for his own sake, more likely asserting the position of her office. He knew if it had benefitted the Inquisitor she would have let the Space Marines gut him on the spot. He maintained his composure, but inwardly he flagged as he realised this quest was going to be nowhere near as easy as he had supposed.