The casket opened on invisible hinges, like the petals of a malformed flower. I think I had expected light to radiate out, or some other show of power.
There was none. Malahite stepped forward between the kneeling limbs of the slave-things and reached out, but Dazzo pushed him back with a curse and a slap of psychic power that sent him sprawling.
A ripple of response ran through the saruthi, making them scuttle on the spot.
Now Dazzo reached into the casket. He took out a tiny oblong, no bigger than a boltgun's magazine, and held it in trembling hands, gazing at it.
A book. Ancient parchment encased in a sleeve of black saruthi metal, closed with a clasp.
Well, ecclesiarch?' Glaw growled. 'We need confirmation.'
Dazzo unclasped the cover and turned the first antique page.
The true matter is ours,' he stammered, and fell to his knees. The Necroteuch. They had the Necroteuch. It was now or never, I thought.
TWENTY
My ally, confusion.
The wrath of Mandragore.
Against Oberon.
I bellowed, 'Look out! They're attacking!' and slammed myself hard into the two troopers by my side. As we went over in a clumsy, thrashing heap, I fired my hell-gun wildly for good measure.
Tension among the humans gathered around the plateau was intense. The saruthi, I firmly believe, had deliberately used their devices and environment to foment that tension, perhaps intending to weaken and cow the humans they found themselves dealing with. If so, they had done too good a job. Gudranites and troopers alike were at snapping point, their minds and spirits rattled by their location and by what they had seen. A warning voice and a few shots was all it took to spill the tension over.
All around me, men yelled out and weapons crackled. Assuming an attack on their high-born leaders, the troopers still firmly loyal to Glaw and Estram surged forward, firing on the saruthi with their assault guns. Others wavered in confusion and lashed out at those around them. The Gudranites around the rim of the plateau turned their guns on their oppressors, or fired at the vehicles.
From the rim of the plateau, Midas and Bequin led our rearguard in a charge, weapons blazing.
In a second, the air was full of shouts and screams, gunfire and skittering las-bolts. Total confusion reigned.
I could hear Jeruss on the guard vox channel rallying his comrades, calling for them to turn on the navy personnel. The naval security combat channel was riven with orders and countermands, squeals of rage and bellowed curses. I heard Oberon Glaw screaming for order, and the baying howl of Mandragore behind it all.
'Fischig! Twane! Sow confusion! Make for the target!'
Disguised like me, the pair moved forward. The mayhem was too dense and frenzied for there to be any sense of opposing sides. Guards fought naval troopers, or even each other, and indiscriminate fire whipped in all directions.
I shot down a trooper who ran past me, and another nearby who turned in dismay. Past them, I saw the tall, spare form of the rogue captain, Estrum, gazing at me through the smoke wash with incredulity. His eyes bulged more than ever. What the hell are you doing, trooper?' he managed to bark, his pronounced Adam's apple bobbing furiously.
'Performing the ministry of the sacred Inquisition,' I told him and shot him through the head.
The saruthi had been thrown into a state of great agitation. I have no way of knowing what emotions they were experiencing, if they experienced any at all. But they reacted as if horrified by the turn of events, distressed and appalled. Hell-gun fire from troopers who were convinced that the aliens were the aggressors blasted into two of them. One burst open and collapsed onto the tiles in a spreading pool of grey ichor and gristle. The other lost a limb and began to drag itself towards the arches with its remaining stilts.
Over the tumult of gunfire and human voices, the saruthi began to wail. Whether it was a threat, a warning, a call of distress, or an order to retreat I could not tell. They scuttled maniacally, their alien shriek shaking the air.
