'Were you successful?' Zahariel asked.

Daviel nodded grimly.

'As best I could tell, there were five Knights of Lupus who weren't present at the siege,' he replied. 'I found the bones of three of them in the deep wilderness, where they'd tried to live for months after the destruction of their fortress. The fourth one I tracked to a half-ruined tower near Stone Point, on the other side of the world from the Northwilds. He fought me like a cornered animal, and when he realised that he couldn't best me he leapt from the top of the tower into the raging sea rather than give up his secrets.'

'And the fifth?'

Daviel paused, casting a questioning glance at Remiel. The old master gestured for the knight to continue with a wave of his hand.

The old knight sighed. 'The last one was the hardest to track of all,' he said. 'He never stayed in one place for too long, passing like a ghost from one village to another. No one could remember for certain what he looked like, and he wore a great many names over the years. For a long time I couldn't be sure if he was even real - until I turned up his horse and tack, still marked with sigils of his order, in a trade town at Hills End.'

'What had become of him?'

Daviel's good eye narrowed. 'According to the horse's new owner, the man took his coin, bought some new clothes from a merchant, and then presented himself to a brother knight of the Order who was passing through the village in search of new aspirants.'

The news stunned Zahariel. He looked to Master Remiel. 'Surely someone would have realised—'

Remiel arched an eyebrow at his former pupil. 'How so? If he were a young knight, with no reputation and no sense of honour, he could claim to be a woodsman's son and no one would be any wiser.' His eyes bored into Zahariel. 'With his skills and experience he could rise through the Order's ranks quite rapidly, in fact.'

Zahariel frowned. 'What are you getting at?' he demanded. Remiel's expression turned bitter - and then the Librarian understood.

Remiel saw the realization on Zahariel's face and nodded. 'Now you begin to see.'

'No,' Zahariel protested. 'It's impossible. Jonson would never have allowed—'

'But he did,' Remiel snarled, his voice sharpening with long-suppressed anger. 'Did you never wonder why Jonson named an unknown young knight as the new Lord Cypher, entrusting him with all of our traditions and secrets?'

Zahariel shook his head. 'But why… what possible reason could he have for such a thing?'

'Think, son,' Remiel said, once more an impatient tutor instructing an obstinate pupil. 'Put aside your damned idealism for a moment and think in terms of tactics. What would such a choice give Jonson?'

Zahariel swallowed his shock and irritation and considered the matter in cold terms. 'He chose someone with no ties to the Order's senior knights or masters, whose loyalty was to him alone,' he said, thinking aloud. 'Someone who could be counted on to act in Jonson's best interests above everything else.'

'And would keep his secrets, regardless of the consequences to everyone else,' Remiel said.

The Astartes considered the implications and felt a cold surge of horror. 'I can't believe this,' he said, his voice hollow.

'Can't… or won't?' the old master said. 'Do you imagine this was any easier for me to accept? I helped raise Lion El'Jonson when Luther brought him back from the wilderness. He was like a son to me.'

'But why?' Zahariel protested. 'Why all the secrets and deceptions? We were sworn to him, Remiel. He already had our oaths. We would have followed him into Old Night itself if he asked.'

Remiel didn't answer at first. Zahariel watched the old master's anger fade, like heat from a dying ember, giving way to anguish, and then finally, to an empty, barren sadness.

'It's not that any of us lost faith in Jonson,' he said softly. Tears glimmered at the corners of his eyes.

'Somewhere along the line, he lost faith in us. Wherever he and the Emperor are headed, we aren't meant to follow. All we can do now is reclaim what was once ours.'

The thought stung Zahariel, like a knife pricking at his heart. He tried to gainsay Remiel, to find some fault in the old master's bleak logic.

They spent the last few minutes of the flight in silence.

When they reached Aldurukh, Zahariel cased himself in his armour and took up bolt pistol and staff before leading Remiel and Daviel to the Grand Master's chambers. He found Lord Cypher there, as he expected he would.

Cypher glanced up sharply from the reports piled atop the desk. His eyes widened as he saw the rebel leaders. It was the first time Zahariel had ever seen the Astartes taken by surprise.

'What's the meaning of this?' Cypher demanded coldly.

'Take us to Luther,' Zahariel demanded. 'Now.'

'I can't do that,' Cypher replied, regaining some of his inscrutable poise. 'As I've told you many times, brother, Luther is in meditation and does not want to be disturbed—'

'He will when he hears what we have to say,' Zahariel shot back. 'Caliban's survival is at stake.' His hand tightened on his staff. 'If you won't take us to him, then tell us where he can be found.'

'I can't do that,' Cypher replied coolly. 'My orders are from the Master of Caliban. You haven't the authority to countermand them.'

'Surely Luther expects to be informed in the event of an emergency,' Zahariel persisted.

Cypher smiled thinly. 'Why, of course. Give me the message and I'll relay it to him immediately.'

Zahariel felt a surge of anger. Before he could reply, however, he heard heavy footfalls behind him. He turned to see Brother-Librarian Israfael and Chapter Master Astelan standing just inside the doorway. Israfael eyed Daviel and Master Remiel with wary surprise, while Astelan's eyes flashed with irritation when he caught sight of Zahariel.

'Where have you been?' Astelan said. 'I've been searching for you all over Aldurukh!'

'What's happened?' Zahariel asked, already fearing what he might hear. If Astelan hadn't used the vox to contact him it could only mean one thing.

'Half an hour ago we began hearing of wide-scale rioting at the Northwilds arcology,' Astelan said grimly. 'Mobs of panicked civilians have rushed the barricades around the hab levels. Many of them are claiming that the Imperials are secretly in league with sorcerers who mean to sacrifice them to the warp.'

Daviel let out an angry groan. 'Thuriel's behind this,' he said. 'That short-sighted idiot has damned us all.'

Zahariel felt a chill race up his spine. 'What about the Jaegers?' he asked. 'I ordered General Morten to open the cordon and begin relocating the civilians.'

Astelan shook his head in exasperation. 'We're getting wildly conflicting reports,' he said. 'We've heard that some units have opened fire on the rioters, while others have thrown down their arms or even switched sides. The Administratum officials at the arcology have contacted Magos Bosk, and she is demanding to know what we're doing about the situation.'

'I told you that we couldn't keep this a secret from her,' Israfael interjected angrily. 'She's probably drafting an urgent report to the primarch right now, accusing us all of negligence. And she would be right to do so!'

'That's not the worst of it,' the chapter master said, cutting Israfael off with an angry glare. He turned back to Zahariel. 'There've been fragmentary transmissions from Jaeger patrols on the lower hab levels, reporting that they're under attack.'

'Under attack?' Zahariel echoed. He eyed the rebel leaders. 'By whom?'

'By the dead,' Astelan replied.

The words hung heavy in the chamber.

'It's over,' Remiel said, putting a voice to their thoughts. 'We're too late.'

Zahariel shook his head stubbornly. 'No,' he said. 'Not yet.' He turned back to Cypher, his face pale with anger. The hooded Astartes started to say something, then recoiled with a gasp of pain as Zahariel sent a probe of psychic energy into Cypher's mind.