Russ moved his king into one of the ornate corner squares, neatly avoiding Malcador's pieces.

'The wolf evades the trap,' he said. Russ knocked over the king. It fell down with a soft clatter, rocking, before Malcador pinned it in place with his long forefinger.

'Remember when you face your brother, Leman, it is you who will be the fugitive king, not the Warmaster. Do not overestimate your own strength.'

'We're all trapped kings on your board, aren't we?' said Russ. 'I've always known that. I know what kind of man you are, Malcador.'

'Do my methods bother you?' asked the regent, genuinely curious.

'No,' said Russ. 'Nothing bothers me. The world is as the world is. There's nothing a man can do about his wyrd.'

Malcador set the king upright away from the board. He cut a lonely figure on the table, isolated from his warriors.

Malcador and Russ looked at each other for a long time. There was a bond between them neither had ever truly acknowledged. Russ remembered when he had first come to Terra. He had spent more time with Malcador than with the Emperor to begin with. In a sense, he was overly blessed with distracted fathers.

Russ glanced back at the Hnefatafl board. There were numerous traps set all around the periphery. Malcador had left him exactly one way out.

Have you been preparing me for this all along? Did you know? thought Russ, which in Malcador's presence was as good as shouting it out loud.

Malcador's face twitched with amusement. Russ responded with a little smile.

'Thanks for the game, old man,' Russ said. 'I'll see you when I return.'

Russ got up and placed a fond hand on the regent's shoulder, before leaving Malcador in the garden.

Malcador watched the Lord of Winter and War leave. His gaze returned to the king, standing apart from his army, and from there to the spear Leman Russ had left behind, propped up against the wall.

Seven

Seven

Leaving Terra

The near space of Terra was crawling with ship activity.

Mechanicum scavenger barques swarmed a metal landscape wrought from steel and hung in orbit. The orbital plate still looked like a living world. Lights shone from domes and armourglass blisters. Peripheral signal beacons blinked. Spires shone with data sign.

The carrion vessels said otherwise.