'Excellent,' she said. The torch went out, the claw snapped closed around it. 'Then I will keep you alive for a little while longer. Now join the others. Power is a show, and we have a performance to give.' The door hissed upwards.

Cawl left as quickly as was seemly. As he joined the ranks of Aspertia's acolytes waiting in the antechamber outside, he wondered if the others had suffered the same interrogation; which of them had thrown themselves on her mercy and which needed to be convinced. His mind went back to his unfinished work in his chamber.

If he could complete it, he could be free again.

Slowly, a plan began to form in Belisarius Cawl's mind.

Seventeen

Seventeen

A Father's Request

After so short a time in the Aett, the Legion was readying itself to leave, and Leman Russ called his war council to session.

The Einherjar gathered in the chamber of the Grand Annulus. A monumental feasting hall high in the Valgard, its floor was decorated with an immense round inlay depicting the emblems of the Thirteen Great Companies of the Vlka Fenryka - an adaptation of the kings' stones Fenrisian tribes carried from land to land. Russ had insisted the Annulus be finished before any of the Valgard was completed. It comprised movable segments metres across, each inlaid with a badge of a Wolf Lord. They centred on a circular stone bearing Leman Russ' own tribal symbol. Some had been removed and replaced recently.

The rest of the hall was not yet done. Raw mountain stone had been roughed into blocks and shapes that would take statues and relief panels. Archways, niches and other decorations were but simple, chiselled outlines. One day, Russ wanted the chamber to be the ritual heart of the Vlka Fenryka. For now it remained a cold, unfriendly place. Its entry was sealed with a simple, temporary ceramite blast door. Wheeled scaffolding towers waited in place for workers to return. Tools were neatly racked where artworks would go. Opaque plastek sheeting covered works in progress.

A sombre atmosphere prevailed. There was little talk as the Einherjar waited for their primarch. The chamber swayed slightly with the motion of the world. The room would never be still. Under the vicious tugging of the Wolfs Eye, the Fang was the wavering cap of a child's top, always on the brink of falling.

The door slid aside rapidly, banging into the wall recess that housed it. Leman Russ strode in, Bjorn his shadow. Fewer eyes narrowed at the warrior's presence than in the past, but they still narrowed.