He reached down and found a purse. The crowd held its breath expectantly. For a second, his gaze fell on the Librarian, and he looked puzzled. A frown crossed his face. Two Heads Talking felt a tug on his leg and fell to one knee, although it went against the grain to kneel to anything except the image of the Emperor. He felt that malign glance linger upon him and wondered whether the fat man had somehow penetrated his bound spirits' disguise

All the squads gathered around the fire. The great logs smouldered in the dark, underlighting the faces of the Marines, making them look daemonic. Behind them. Deathwing sat on its landing claws, a bulwark against the darkness. He knew that beyond it lay the city of their enemy, where dwelled abomination.

Nearest the fires squatted the squad leaders, faces impassive. Behind them were their men. in full battle regalia, storm bolters and flamers near at hand. Firelight glittered on the winged swords painted on their shoulder pieces. 'Their garb was Imperial. but the scarred faces that showed in the firelight belonged to the Plains People.

He had known these men for so long that not even Two Heads Talking could have done a better job of reading their mood. In each stem visage, he saw a thirst for vengeance and a desire for death. The warriors wished to join their clansmen in the spirit realm. Cloud Runner. too, felt the tug of his ancestral spirits, their clamour to be avenged. He tried to ignore their voices. He was a soldier of the Emperor. He had other duties than to his people.

"We must fight." said Weasel-Fierce. "The dead demand it. Our clans need to be avenged. If any of our people survive, they must be liberated. Our honour must be reclaimed."

"There are many kinds of honour." responded Bloody Moon. 'We honour the Emperor. Our Terminator suits are the

badge of that honour. They are signs of the honour our Chapter does us. Can we risk losing all traces of our Chapter's ancient heritage to the Stealers?"

"For a hundred centuries. the armour we wear has borne Marines safely through battle. The suits will not fail us now."

replied Weasel-Fierce hotly. "We can only add to their honour by slaughtering our foe."

"Brother Marius. Brother Paulo, pray, silence." Cloud Runner said, invoking formality by the use of Chapter ritual and calling Weasel-Fierce and Bloody Moon by the names they had taken on when they had become Marines. The two Terminators bowed their heads, acknowledging the gravity of the moment.

"Forgive us. Brother Captain, and name penance. We are at your service. Semper fideles." they replied.

"No penance is necessary." Cloud Runner looked around the fire. All eyes were upon him. He weighed his words carefully before he spoke again.

"We are gathered tonight, not as soldiers of the Emperor, but by ancient custom, as warriors of the People. To this, I give my blessing as Captain and War chief. We are here as speakers for our clans, joined in brotherhood so that we might speak with one voice, think as one mind and discern the correct path for all our peoples."

Cloud Runner knew his words rang false. Those present were not speakers for their clans. They were their clans - all that was left. Still, the ritual had been invoked and must be kept to.

"Within this circle there will be no violence. Till the ending of this gathering, we will be as one clan."

It was strange to speak those words to warriors who had fought together in a thousand battles under a hundred suns. Yet it was the ancient rite of meeting, meant to ensure peaceful discourse among the warriors of rival tribes. He saw some Marines nod.

Suddenly . it felt right. The ways of their people had been born on this world, and while they were here, they would keep to them. In this time and space, they were bound by the ties of their common heritage. Each needed the reassurance after the trials of the day.