I refilled my glass before turning back.
'But I wish to move my centre of operations. It's compromised, if nothing else.'
At that, Jubal Kircher looked into his cit-juice uncomfortably.
'I wish to relocate the household to the estate on Gudran. Its environment suits me better than this… hive-hell. Jarat, you and Kircher will
supervise the packing and organisation for the move. I would like you to undertake the duties of head of household at the Gudrun estate, if you are willing. I realise you have never been off Thracian/
She sat forward, her eyebrows raised, considering this sudden change to her life. 'I… I would be honoured to do so, sir/ she said.
'I'm pleased. The country air will do you good. The estate is managed by a caretaker staff, so I'll need a good housekeeper, and a good chief of house security. Jubal… I'd like you to consider that job.'
'Thank you, sir,' said Kircher.
'Psullus… we're going to transplant the library permanently to Gudrun. That task is yours, as is the ongoing duty of being my librarian. Can I entrust you with it?'
'Oh, yes… there will be problems, of course, the handling and care of certain shielded texts and-'
'But I can leave it with you?'
Psullus waved his frail hands at me in a gesture of excitement that made everyone laugh.
'I know this wholesale move will take months to manage and carry out. Alain… I'd like you to supervise and oversee the whole thing.'
Von Baigg looked suddenly awkward. 'Of – of course, inquisitor.'
This is a weighty task, interrogator. Are you up to it?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Good. I will return to the Gudrun estate no later than ten months from now. I trust it will be the home I expect/
It was a promise I would fail miserably to keep.
"What of the Distaff, sir?' asked Surskova.
'I want to divide that/ I said. 'I want six of the best Distaff members sent to Gudrun to bide there at my wishes. The future of the Distaff itself I see as separate from my living arrangements. I have a lease on a spire-top residence on Messina. That will be the new official home of the Distaff. Surskova, you will supervise the move and establishment of the untouchable school there/
She nodded, shocked. Bequin seemed taken aback.
I looked round at the hundred-plus servants, warriors and aides crammed into the room.
'That's it. Until I see you all again, may the God-Emperor protect you/
I was left alone with Aemos, Bequin, Medea and Nayl.
'Not for us the chores of moving house/ I said.
'I had a hunch not/ smirked Medea.
'For us, two missions/
'For us?' asked Bequin.
Yes, Alizebeth. Unless you think you and I are too old for such diversions?'
'No, I– I-'
'I've been too long at the back of things. Too long relying on my capable staff. I yearn for field work/
The last field work we were in nearly got you killed/ scolded Bequin darkly.
'Proving that I'm losing my edge, I think/
'For shame!' muttered Nayl with a smile.
'So we're going to have an adventure, all of us. Just the few of us. Remember what those were like, Aemos?'
'Frankly, I'm still not over them, Gregor, but yes/
'Alizebeth?'
Bequin crossed her arms ill-humouredly. 'Oh, I'd just love to come and watch you get killed…'
We're all agreed, then?' I said. I can't help being deadpan. Gorgone Locke made sure of that. But my delivery was good enough to get Nayl and Medea raucous with laughter and Aemos chuckling.
Alizebeth Bequin grinned despite herself.
Two missions, as I said. After this briefing, I'll allow you to recruit a few personnel from the staff. Nayl – a fighter or two you can count on. Aemos – an astropath we can use without worry. Alizebeth – one or two from the Distaff. A maximum of ten in the party, all told. No more, you understand? Argue it out between yourselves. Don't bring me into it. We leave in two days, and I don't want to even hear about any arguments second hand/
'So what are the missions?' asked Medea, lounging back in her padded chair and slipping her long legs over the arm. She took a long swig of her weedwine and added, 'You said two, right?'
Two/
I pushed a stud on a data wand in my hand and a hololithic screen fogged into life over the table. The words of the message I'd received before the start of the tumult on Thracian were displayed in shimmering letters: 'Scalpel cuts quickly, eager tongues revealed. At Cadia, by terce. Hound wishes Thorn. Thorn should be sharp/
