The ride up from the interrogation cells to Judge Arctos’ personal audience chamber was a quiet one. The judge’s two bodyguards, clad in top-of-the-line carapace that wouldn’t have been out of place on a senior Astra Militarum officer, were as silent and unobtrusive as two deadly warriors could be. Ngiri seemed to be in no mood for idle chat, and Chetta was too exhausted to break the silence herself. Her sleep in the two nights since Vorlese’s near destruction had been patchy and pain-filled, and her days had been hectic and even more pain-filled. She had, at least, stamped down hard enough on any vestiges of political ambition amongst her remaining immediate family that her confirmation as Novator had gone unchallenged, although the elders of Brobantis universally hailing her as the saviour of the house and planet certainly hadn’t hurt. Scheming would break out amongst her inferiors soon enough, she had no doubt, but for now she was riding a wave of gratitude despite the fact that most of her house had only the sketchiest idea of what had actually occurred.

The doors of the elevator slid open and Arctos’ bodyguards swept out first. Arctos followed on their heels, effortlessly giving the impression that he hadn’t been first not for any fear of his safety, but simply because he had chosen not to move that quickly. Chetta allowed Ngiri to go next, and brought up the rear herself. She wasn’t relishing what she knew was coming.

Sen Uru Dukarr rose from the seat he’d been occupying. He was clearly attempting to give the impression of studied calm, but Chetta saw his hands fussing at the sleeves of his robes. He was nervous, and she didn’t blame him. He’d instigated violence in the streets that Judge Arctos was sworn to protect, and hadn’t even had the sense to do it surreptitiously. He could join the Jo’Sins in Arctos’ cells at any moment, and Novator or no, the likelihood was that the rest of his house would let him hang rather than risk themselves trying to protect him, given that he’d stuck his neck out so very far and so very foolishly.

‘Judge Arctos,’ Sen Uru said, his usual showy boom completely absent. He was alone; there was no place for aides in Judge Arctos’ private ­audience chamber. Chetta wasn’t unhappy about that. The memory of his three eerily quiet bald assistants still gave her chills, for some reason. ‘Lady Vass. And Lady Brobantis, of course.’

No more overfamiliar ‘Chetta’ from you, then, Chetta thought with ­satisfaction. Good. Use my title and choke on it, you buffoon.

‘Lord Dukarr,’ Judge Arctos replied, politely but with steel. ‘I would have seen you before now, but you are aware that other matters required my immediate attention.’