As for the Paternova… that had to be a bluff, surely? Even a planetary governor didn’t just whistle up a High Lord of Terra. But if Taranthis did, and if the Paternova listened, that could prove to be just as disastrous for Brobantis as open rebellion against Vorlese. Chetta had no intention of coming to the attention of her kind’s overlord unless it was on her terms.

She should purge all of Azariel’s xenos curios from the vaults, and sooner rather than later. Best not to have such potential blackmail mat­erial lying around if Dukarr was looking to make trouble, let alone if there was the faintest chance of the Paternova’s agents turning up.

‘You are aware, your excellency,’ Vittariel said tightly, ‘that such a statement from you could be just the catalyst for violence from those who would benefit from ourselves and House Dukarr falling from favour? If they were to make it look like part of our dispute–’

‘Of course I am aware of that, Lord Brobantis,’ Taranthis replied shortly. ‘That is why I am not having this conversation with you in front of anyone else.’ Ve fell silent for a moment as four acrobats tumbled towards them across the grass in a riot of effortless-looking handsprings.

Chetta frowned. They weren’t changing direction…

‘Down!’ Vass shouted half a second later, pushing in front of them all. At the top of a tumbling arc through the air, one of the gymnasts flung out a hand and a glittering silver sliver streaked from it, directly at the rogue trader.

Shedding Light

Shedding Light

The recaff was stale, the air was moist from captured breath and scented with sweat and the sickly ritual incense used to keep the cogitators functioning smoothly, and DeShelle DuVoir hadn’t slept properly for three days. She was sitting in an annex of one of the Brobantis palace’s main security suites, which had been turned into an investigative hub for the twin mysteries currently plaguing them: who had been killing Brobantis Navigators, and whether anyone with hostile designs on the planet of Vorlese might have arrived from the doomed Gallimo Prime.

Tekoa Yunn looked even more tired than DeShelle felt, but the former Administratum official was still doggedly searching through hours of pict-feed footage with the small team that Lady Brobantis had assigned to him. They pored over their screens on the other side of the unit, painstakingly matching faces to names as they cross-referenced with the recorded arrival times and gate numbers.

DeShelle had been studying her data-slate, trying to get things into some semblance of order in her mind, when the door opened and Luc Krane entered. The head of security looked agitated, but that wasn’t uncommon: Krane’s emotions often bubbled near the surface.