'Now, Captain?'

Paran walked over to the table and motioned for the sergeant to join him. 'First, has Adjunct Lorn contacted you yet?'

Whiskeyjack's blank look was sufficient answer.

'Good, I'm in time, then.' Paran glanced up at Kalam, who had stationed himself behind the sergeant. 'You've been set up. The plan was to take the city, yes, but also to make certain you were all killed in the process.'

Whiskeyjack held up a hand. 'A moment, sir. You and Tattersail worked this out?'

Paran closed his eyes briefly. 'She's ... dead. Chasing Hairlock out on the Rhivi Plain. Tayschrenn got to her. It was also her intent to find you and tell you all that I'm telling you. I'm afraid I won't be her equal as your ally once the Adjunct shows up, but at least I can prepare you somewhat.'

Kalam spoke. 'I don't like the idea of Oponn's pawn supposedly helping us.'

Paran nodded. 'I have it on good authority that I'm not Oponn's. That sword downstairs is, though. Your squad wizard should be able to confirm this.'

'The Adjunct's plan,' Whiskeyjack reminded him, the fingers of one hand tapping slowly on the tabletop.

'She'll have no trouble finding you. She has a talent in that area. But I fear she's not the major threat. There's a T'lan Imass with her. Maybe her mission is simply to lead him to you, then he'll handle the rest.'

Kalam cursed and began pacing behind the sergeant's chair.

Whiskeyjack reached a decision. 'The satchel, Corporal.'

The assassin frowned, then picked up the sergeant's standard-issue supply satchel left beside the door. He returned and set it down on the tabletop.

Whiskeyjack released the straps and pulled out an object wrapped in burgundy silk. He removed the cloth, revealing twin yellowed bones of a human forearm. The elbow-end's ball joints were bound together with verdigrised copper wire; the wrist ends were wrapped as well, but as a misshapen knife grip, beyond which jutted a serrated blade.

'What is it?' the captain asked. 'I've never seen its like before.'

'Be surprised if you had,' Whiskeyjack said. 'Back in the days of the Emperor, the inner ring of military commanders each possessed one of these, the booty of a looted K'Chain Che'Malle tomb.' He grasped the bones with both hands. 'It was the source of much of our success, Captain.' He rose and drove the point into the table.

A flash of white light erupted from the bones, then contracted to a swirl spinning thread-like between them. Paran heard a voice he knew.

'I was getting worried, Whiskeyjack,' High Fist Dujek growled.

'Unavoidable,' the sergeant replied, frowning at Paran. 'We've had little to report... until now. But I need to know the situation in Pale, High Fist.'