Edge of the Void - Interlude Chapter

Several hours and a minor surgery later, Tareefa sat recuperating in her quarters. To the left of her, an untouched meal, and to the right Hames stares out of the window with his arms crossed and jaw set.

“Have you calmed down Seneschal?” the Lord-Captain asks, “I hear you got into quite the argument with the Inquisitor?”

“I merely wanted to have you taken to the Endeavour for treatment, that is all.” He responded without turning around.

“Ah, so you’re angry with me then.” It was not a question.

“You should have taken the gun-cutter straight to the Endeavour. Or at least used the auto-chirurgeon.”

“I will not run from my judgement, Martyn”

And with that the matter was settled, and they lapsed into an uneasy silence. The Lord-Captain drifted in and out of sleep for much of the rest of the afternoon, the days events and her injury taking their toll at last. When she woke, Hames brought her a fresh meal that she begrudgingly ate. And she even drank something that wasn’t forty percent alcohol by volume.

It was therefore late in the day when Inquisitor Marburg and Shai let themselves into the Captains’ quarters, the former taking a seat without asking, much to Hames’ chagrin.

“You don’t look pleased to see me, Lord-Captain.” Before adding with a dry chuckle, “But then no-one ever does.”

“People assume,” he continued, “that my very presence is a condemnation. But that is not the case, it is a test. Had I actually believed you were in league with the Enemy then you and everyone you have ever associated with would already be dead. And I certainly wouldn’t have let you go guns blazing to the very cell I suspect you to be a part of.”

The Rogue Trader should have felt a measure of relief, instead she just felt defeated.  Like she had lost a game she didn’t even know she was playing.

“Then we are glad to have passed your test.” Said Hames, replying on behalf of the Rogue Trader.

The Inquisitor shook his head, “It was the Emperor’s test, I am just the instrument of His judgement.”

He chuckled dryly again and gestured for Shai to step forward.

“Mistress…” the Death Cult Assassin began before the Inquisitor jumped in again. He was quite talkative when he wasn’t planning your death, Tareefa noted.

“What she is trying to say is that having bungled my investigation here that you are released from your oath to the Blind Divine, Shai Nue Yieng will be joining my retinue from now on.”

“Then by the grace of Him on Terra, go with honour.” It was the only answer Tareefa could give. Shai wasn’t technically part of the Endeavour’s crew and so she was free to leave at any time. Plus, the Lord-Captain wasn’t nearly spiteful or stupid enough to deny a request from the Inquisition.

“Excellent.” And with that Inquisitor Marburg stood and gestured for Shai to leave the room.

“I shall not keep you Lord-Captain el-Khatib, I have far too much work to do. And the sooner I can leave all this frivolity the better.” he added, gesturing to the general opulence of the Rogue Trader’s quarters and making for the door. Before he gets there Inquisitor stops and turns back to Tareefa.

“I did have one further question, however. How exactly did you get your Warrant of Trade?”

The Rogue Trader doesn’t turn around.

“I traded for it, Lord Inquisitor.” She says flatly.

When it’s clear that no further details will be forthcoming, Inquisitor Marburg gives one last raspy chuckle and leaves the room.

As day turned to night, both retinues made ready to leave Lady Yasmin’s manor. The Inquisitorial Agents had their leads to follow up and the Rogue Trader’s crew had Guillermo’s funerary rights to see to on board the Endeavour. They bid farewell to Shai, and thanked Lady Yasmin for her hospitality, with Tareefa promising they would return in a few days once the Crusader had been laid to rest.

“Do you mourn the loss of your compatriot?” Lady Yasmin had asked.

“Guillermo Nightdall gave a good sermon,” Tareefa replied, “But no, he died with heretics’ blood on his sword and a prayer on his lips.”

“No finer end for a servant of the God-Emperor I suppose.” Said Lady Yasmin with a touch of melancholy before adding, perhaps a little too quickly. “You’ll be back soon though. Lord-Captain? It will be rather dull around here without you.”

The return to The Glorious Endeavour and following three hours were an exercise in tedium, as soon as the gun-cutter had touched down in the landing bay Tareefa was whisked away to the Apothecarion. There her wound was poked, prodded and thoroughly examined while Seneschal Hames stood by like a worried mother. Only once medicae staff were satisfied that the wound was healing, laden the Rogue Trader with a dizzying array of serums and elixirs to promote healing and prescribed a week’s worth of bedrest was she allowed to return to her quarters. Had Tareefa not been so bone weary she might have pushed back and asserted her authority as Captain. Instead, she took a measure of painkillers in the form of a large glass of vintage amasec and slept for twelve hours.

When she woke, she partook of a hearty breakfast while Hames prepared her outfit for Guillermo’s funerary ceremony. A rich blue tunic and trousers interwoven with enough gold thread that the ensemble had a few strategically placed suspensor plates woven into it to reduce the weight. The gold wove around the garment in intricate designs, forming the Imperial Aquila and the symbol of House el-Khatib. Tareefa disliked it. It reminded her that her “house” had one solitary member. An overly flamboyant tricorn and fur cloak completed the look. Hames had explained the necessity of such a garish item of headgear.

“He was a member of your personal retinue, an ascetic one perhaps, but there will be expectations.”

It amused the Lord-Captain that despite the freedom of being a Rogue Trader, she had to endure more pomp and ceremony now than back when she was in the Merchant Fleet.

And with that they made their way to the ship’s Temple-Shrine. Hames announced their arrival and the assembled guests stood for the Lord-Captain as she made her way to her seat. Other members of Guillermo’s Crusader House lined the walls as the remaining guests filed in and took their own places.

At the allotted time, the Shrine’s pipe organ began its dirge of music announcing the arrival of Deacon Athanasius and the start of the proceedings. Everyone stood as the ancient Deacon, flanked by two attendants, made his way to the pulpit. He led the congregation through two hymns and a prayer before asking everyone to be seated. From there he gave a brief overview of Guillermo’s life, from underhive orphan to adolescence in the Astra Militarum to finally walking the path of the Crusader. Deacon Athanasius emphasising that even those born in darkness can find the light of the Emperor, something particularly poignant for those on a voidship. He then spoke about Guillermo’s time as a Crusader, dedicating his life not only to the devotion of the Emperor but also to the martial skill of sword and shield. The Deacon told the congregation how Guillermo had died, the lesson being that no matter how well we armour ourselves there will always be weakness. Athanasius looked to Tareefa when he said this, who asked her to stand. One of the attendants stepped forwards and presented the Lord-Captain with a dog-eared prayer book wrapped in fine silk. The book had belonged to Guillermo, as a Crusader it was the one personal item that he was permitted to own. Lastly, the Deacon told the congregation that as per ship tradition, Guillermo’s physical remains would be fed into the plasma drives. In this way the deceased would help the living through the stars one last time. At this a ripple of voices spread throughout the guests. “Lux iterum” the voices said, to be light again. The phrase was, as far as Tareefa could ascertain, unique to the Glorious Endeavour but she had quickly picked it up as a prayer or affirmation. She whispered it now as she cradled the prayer book.  With that the Deacon brought the ceremony to a close, another hymn followed and two more prayers. One of the latter being a war psalm that Guillermo was particularly fond of.

The guests began to file out of the Temple-Shrine as the pipe organ started up again. The Rogue Trader hung back for a moment, taking the opportunity to thank the Deacon for such a heartfelt and solemn service.

With most of the congregation being in the command staff, they made their way to a hall on the officer’s deck, where some drinks and light refreshments had been laid out. In the corner of the room a string quartet played a gentle melody of sombre music. Tareefa had been careful to ensure that nothing got too raucous, she certainly didn’t want to look like they were celebrating getting the Inquisition off their backs.

The Rogue Trader took the first opportunity to rid herself of the tricorn and cape, and also gave the prayer book to her Seneschal for safe keeping. Accepting a glass of sparkling wine, she mingled with her officers, catching up on the ship’s gossip and receiving the odd report here and there. Enginseer Prime Nesix Herriom-24 took the time to report that repairs to the warp drive were progressing nicely, although they weren’t even halfway complete yet. Arana Lezal, Navigator Primus, meanwhile was rather happy to be becalmed in the Arccan system for the time being, she said it gave her time to focus on her oil paintings rather than pouring over charts and meditating in preparation for warp translation.

Eventually the party died down, as the crew rotated on shift or snuck off to more raucous gatherings, they assumed the Lord-Captain didn’t know about. For Tareefa herself, she made sure that she was the last to leave before finally retiring to her quarters.

Unfortunately, senior medicae staff were waiting for her and once again her wound was poked, prodded and had a cocktail of serums applied. Suitably satisfied, the chirurgeon left the Rogue Trader in peace, to which she prepared herself for bed and padded softly into her private chapel. She was pleased to see that Hames had already set Guillermo’s prayer book on its own small plinth. Tareefa gingerly picked it up from its new resting and knelt at the altar. And there before the image of the Emperor resplendent on the Golden Throne, she said a private prayer to her fallen compatriot.

For the next two days Tareefa spent much of her time on the bridge, seeing to the various administrative tasks required in the running of a voidship. Admittedly there wasn’t a huge amount to concern herself with as the Glorious Endeavour was still parked in orbit around Mehara, but it still felt good to sit in her command throne again.

On the third day, fulfilling her promise, the Lord-Captain and her entourage took the gun-cutter back down to the planet’s surface. Lady Yasmin Ryant and a slew of servants greeted them in the manor’s landing bay. The Lady beamed to see the Rogue Trader again and embraced her tightly by way of greeting. As the crew settled in once more Tareefa couldn’t help but notice that Lady Yasmin had not been idle the last two days. Despite not being her primary residence, the manor bustled with servants and there was a marked increase in art, plush carpeting and other fine arts adorning every corridor. It therefore came as no surprise when Lady Yasmin informed her that a feast was to be held to celebrate her return.

Lady Yasmin extols the virtues of a particular vintage of wine - Backdrop by Jon Hodgson Backdrops

That evening dressed once again in her blue and gold uniform, including the loathed tricorn, Tareefa accompanied Lady Yasmin to the dining hall. The hall itself was large but not overly so, at one end a wooden table had been set with two place settings next to each other. Behind the table were two baroque high back chairs, each with several plump cushions. And behind them stood Armsmen Finn and Bron, the metallic details on their uniforms polished to a mirror shine. The space in front of the table had been cleared for the evening’s entertainment but was presently occupied by a local Frater delegation. The hall’s stone walls had been covered with rich fabric drapes in the colour of House Ryant, and lining the edge of the hall were a score of servants in equally rich uniforms. Inset into the wall was a hearth in which a fire softly crackled, its surround and mantel were carved white marble that flickered in the gentle firelight.

Lady Yasmin and her Rogue Trader companion, stopped in front of the Frater.  He blessed both them and the meal they were about to eat while others in the delegation waved braziers of incense and anointed the pair with holy water. Now spiritually cleansed, Tareefa and Yasmin took their seats, and the feast began in earnest.

The pair were served an apéritif of dry fortified wine alongside brined olives and assortments of nuts that might stimulate the appetite for the meal to come. As they nibbled and sipped, a bard recited poetry that spoke of humanities superiority amongst the stars. The poetry itself was suitably heroic although Lady Yasmin did whisper that the fellow’s recital was drier than the hors d'oeuvres they were amusing their appetite with.

Once the bard had finished the saga, he bowed and curtly left the hall. He was quickly replaced with a gaudy looking lady with a lot of bells sewn into her clothing that jiggle softly every time she moved. She gave an exaggerated bow and launched into a standup routine of jokes interspersed with feats of juggling. Some of the jokes relied on specific Meharan tropes that went over the Rogue Trader’s head, but Lady Yasmin was kind enough to explain them to her. Whilst the jester was busy running through their material a train of servants brought out the first courses of light soup, salad and pâté. Each was exquisite, not too rich and paired perfectly with a wine that Lady Yasmin was more than happy to talk at length about. It dawned on the Lord-Captain that Lady Ryant did not get off world much and thus lived vicariously through imported wine and foodstuffs. Cottoning onto such, in between bouts of laughing at the jester Tareefa took the opportunity to ask about the origins of their dishes, to which the Lady animatedly talked about which world in the Imperium the ingredients came from. The jester finished their set with a cutting joke that had both Lady Yasmin and the Rogue Trader roaring with laughter before cartwheeling out of the dining hall. 

The next act was a troupe of acrobats; they entered the hall with great fanfare of pan flutes and small drums, bright costumes flickering in the flame light. First up from the troupe were a pair of contortionists, who twisted themselves together in such a manner that neither Yasmin nor Tareefa could tell were one ended and the other began. As their performance reached its zenith the first plate of the next set of courses was served; long noodles with pieces of cured meat in a rich fromage and pepper sauce. Other routines and other dishes soon followed; they ate delicate shellfish with garlicked butter while a trio of performers used a teeterboard to send one of their number somersaulting into the air nearly to the vaulted ceiling. The pair dined on rare, foraged mushrooms from a half dozen different worlds fried in butter and coated in a tangy glaze while acrobats twisted and leapt from trapezes mounted to the rafters. Lady Yasmin and her guest applauded the acrobatic troupe as they took their bows and began to break down their equipment.

The next act was music and dancing. They burst into the room, instruments already blaring an energetic tune. The two dancers, in their bright and bold costumes, stepped and twirled in time to the high tempo music. The accompanying food and wine were equally as bold and vibrant as the dancing. A thick cut of perfectly grilled meat, a stew with sauce so thick and rich you could plug holes in voidship with it, poultry stuffed into other kinds of poultry. All washed down with glasses of dark red wine with flavours so deep and bold it practically punched the drinker in the jaw with every mouthful. Tareefa and Lady Yasmin revelled in the merriment. They chatted like old friends, the Lord-Captain continuing to ask about the food and drink, while she in turn regaled their host with fanciful tales from beyond the borders of the Imperium. They drank in the attention they gave each other as readily as they did the music and dance before them. The dance reached its crescendo and the music abruptly stopped; the dancers locked in embrace, both breathing hard having kept such a frenetic pace over the course of the dance.

The dancer’s dress flares and flickers in the heartlight - Backdrop by Jon Hodgson Backdrops

It wasn’t just the dancers that dripped with sweat, thanks to the fire, the entertainment, and the food; the dining hall wasn’t the cool airy room that it once was. The air was thick and hot with exertion, flavoured with the lingering scents of all the courses that the couple had thus far enjoyed. For Tareefa and Lady Yasmin, the effects are exacerbated by their intake of wine. In an effort to keep cool the dress code has been sacrificed on the altar of merriment. Buttons have been undone, sleeves rolled up, corsets loosened, the Lord-Captain had even forsaken her outer jacket entirely.

The situation was not improved by the final act of the evening. The ensemble of performers filed into the hall, their costumes tight fighting and patterned with flame designs. The first of the performers were a trio of jugglers who expertly tossed a dizzying array of flaming torches between them. As the Rogue Trader and Lady Yasmin attempted to keep track of the torches they were served a flambéed sweet flatbread alongside a sweet dessert wine. Next, two performers with flaming staves danced and twirled around each other in a mock duel while fire breathers spouted gouts of flame across the hall.  To accompany the performance the pair dined on a frozen dessert that somehow had remained solid in its protective shell despite being set alight tableside. The last act of the night was a highly choreographed performance between all the members of the troupe. The jugglers swapped their torches for fire poi and danced amongst the fire breathers and spinners. Lady Yasmin explained that the dance symbolised the final battles of the Dellmar Incursion in which the last of the Aeldari forces were crushed by the might of the Imperium. Tareefa hadn’t heard of it but was happy to listen all the same. As they watched the fire dancers a bowl of dry red wine that had been mulled with spices was set on the table over a small burner. Across the top of the bowl a slotted grate held a sugarloaf that had been soaked in potent liquor and then set alight. As the sugar caramelised and melted it dripped into the warming wine.

The fire dancers finished their performance with a flourish that earned them a standing ovation from Lady Yasmin and her guest. Both well on their way to inebriation, they flopped back into their chairs as they were served goblets of the now sweetened wine from the bowl. A hot drink was the last thing that Tareefa needed given the temperature of the dining hall, but she gladly accepted her own goblet. The pair sat and talked as things wound down, servants cleared any remaining dinnerware and left the fire in hearth to smoulder into embers. After two goblets of the mulled wine and a considerable number of stifled yawns, Lady Yasmin called a respectful end to the evening. Tareefa escorted her Ladyship, who had taken it upon herself to wear the Rogue Trader’s ostentatious tricorn, back to her quarters.

On the threshold to her chambers Yasmin asked the question that the Lord-Captain should have seen coming. She asked if Tareefa would, perhaps, be interested in joining her in her quarters for a nightcap? Tareefa hesitated for a heartbeat, knowing full well the implications of accepting such a request. While she didn’t consider herself to be sapphic that didn’t mean Tareefa wasn’t interested; Yasmin was exquisitely beautiful and quite clearly enamoured by the Rogue Trader. Emboldened by the alcohol and, in hindsight, the erotically charged performances, Tareefa accepted the invitation, practically pushing Yasmin through the door.

The following morning now washed and in her usual attire, the Lord-Captain found herself back in the dining hall. This time, there were a number of lesser tables into addition to the one that she and Lady Yasmin had sat at last night. It was at these tables the various performers from last night were making their breakfast.

Taking her seat at the high table once more, Tareefa was served her own breakfast. After the plate was set in front of her it took her a few seconds to realise what she was looking at. It was a terrible rendition of the kabobs she ate in her younger days, before she had even left the world she was born on. It was almost as if, after a bout of drunken lovemaking, someone had slurred their way through a description of their favourite hangover cure to their equally inebriated partner, who in turn had relayed the crude and incomplete description to the kitchens only this morning. Almost. Tareefa appreciated the gesture at any rate. And whilst a world away from what it should be, the dish was both salty and greasy enough to serve as a decent hangover cure in its own right.

Tareefa was part way through her not-kabob when a voice at the hall’s entrance announced the arrival of her Ladyship. The guests stood as Lady Yasmin entered and crossed the hall to her seat and seated themselves when instructed. Despite looking a little worse for the wear, Lady Yasmin still managed to give Tareefa a suggestive smirk as she took her seat.  As a servant served her Ladyship her breakfast of fresh fruit and recaf, Tareefa took the opportunity to inquire about the availability of some capsaicin-laden sauce for her kabob. Soon enough the Rogue Trader had a small serving dish of bright red sauce to slather over her food.

For the most part, the pair ate in silence. Partly due to exhaustion and partly to eavesdrop on the performers’ conversations. The Lord-Captain was a little insulted that her tryst with Lady Yasmin failed to make any gossip but was intrigued to hear about the so-called afterparty. Apparently, after she and Lady Yasmin had retired the performers and the servants had thrown themselves quite a party downstairs. Tareefa was fascinated by the supposed debauchery. Apparently, the Frater had taken two of the servants to bed, the gossip centering on the fact that these beddings followed one after the other. The Jester and one of the cooks had apparently gotten extremely drunk and decided to use the leftover food to make a mural of the Emperor on one of the walls. Finn’s name was mentioned at some point, but Tareefa couldn’t make out the context, she made a mental note to enquire about that later.

All in all, Tareefa did feel much better, the aftereffects of too much alcohol consumption notwithstanding. With everything that had happened with the Inquisition and Guillermo, the feast and subsequent night with Lady Yasmin had been cathartic for the Rogue Trader. It felt good to, as the saying went, let her hair down. But now with all that out of her system, she was eager to get back to work. There were ledgers to tally, and even though the Endeavour was stuck in orbit around Mehara, there were still a myriad of ways to line one’s pockets.