‘Do not confuse your lack of comprehension for my lack of purpose,’ Radimir told him coldly. ‘Your reward will come, if you prove true. If I were to try to explain the details of my purpose to you, your brain would ooze out of your ears.’

Tobias stood, with a dramatic flourish of his coat sleeves. ‘I’ve killed seventeen men and women, stranger. Seventeen! All for the glory of the Great Powers! You?’

Radimir sighed, and got to his own feet. He scratched his cheek, considering. ‘Somewhere upwards of fourteen.’

‘Hah!’

‘Billion.’

Tobias blinked.

‘I’ve killed entire planets, little man,’ Radimir said softly, walking slowly towards Tobias with his hands in his pockets. The other cultists leaned away, none of them eager to get involved. Marjuk still had one hand on his service laspistol, but he didn’t draw. ‘I’ve consigned more souls to screaming torment than you could possibly meet in a thousand lifetimes. I have purpose. What I don’t have is patience with amateurs.’

Tobias reached backwards into the shadows under his coat, his hands searching for his knives. But shadows held no secrets from Radimir.

He drew two long blades from his pockets: the finest plasteel, with what was presumably the symbol of Tobias’ house of minor nobility worked into the hilt. Tobias gaped at seeing his own weapons in another man’s hands, then turned to run.

Radimir plunged the first blade into his liver. Tobias screamed and staggered sideways, his knees buckling.

The second blade reached around and opened his throat, sending a sheet of blood cascading across the floor, which one of Svet’s brothers had apparently mopped only that morning.

Radimir kicked Tobias in the back, knocking him onto his face, then dropped the knives and left him to die. He turned back to the rest of the group. Aylen Marjuk still hadn’t drawn, but the tension in the man’s face and neck was obvious. Radimir could tell that the rest of them had recognised Tobias’ blades – he’d probably brandished them often enough – and were even now wondering how Radimir had stolen them into his own pockets.

He had their attention, and almost certainly their obedience.

‘The space port,’ Radimir said calmly. ‘Do you have any contacts there? Any influence?’

Sulaman Eichner looked around, then nervously shook his head. ‘No, Sire Niklau. Not to my knowledge.’

Radimir flexed his fingers and began to calculate how best to kill them all. If they couldn’t help him, they were a liability. He’d have to deal with Darke first…

‘But Mamzel Bettan and her husband are indentured to House Brobantis itself,’ Eichner continued hastily. ‘We rarely see them, due to the nature of their service, but they are loyal to our cause, and we can get messages to them.’

A slow smile began to spread across Radimir Niklau’s face.

Azariel’s Wake

Azariel’s Wake