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The Shel’tain Affair – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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The Shel’tain Affair

Jude Reid

Humanity is a superstitious species. Old notions of faith and fate are carried in our flesh like parasites, weighing us down as we strive to transcend the shackles of the past. Our minds have evolved to seek meaning in the patterns of random chance, and if history is to be believed, we find those patterns with tiresome regularity. Perhaps the search for greater meaning lies at the heart of what makes us human, and it is only once we overcome that part of our nature that we will achieve our true potential.

And yet, as the blast of the exploding groundcar took me from my feet and threw me across the windswept clifftop like a doll hurled by an angry child, all I could think of was the sheer arbitrariness of my own survival. A superstitious woman would have seen the hand of fate in that moment, even come to believe that she had survived through some caprice of destiny or the will of an imagined god. But I knew better. The fact I was still alive was the result of my own actions and of random chance, nothing more or less than that.

I was in no doubt as to what had just happened – the brand that Malcador the Sigillite had placed so recently on the skin of my palm might as well have been a target painted between my shoulder blades – but even so, questions flooded my mind like rushing water. Who had ordered my death was not in question. Here in the isolated and windswept Shel’tain territories, no one but the High Duke possessed the audacity, or the means.

The more interesting question was why.

I had arrived on Shel’tain less than six hours before, and had been met at the landing site by the High Duke himself in an elegant steel-grey groundcar. As the newly made Agentia Tertius of Lord Malcador, I supposed I should have expected nothing less, but my title was fresh enough that the deference and respect it brought with it were strange after a life of interactions characterised by fear and revulsion. The instinctive repugnance that everyone felt in my presence persisted, of course, but it was curious to see it masked by a veneer of courtesy.

‘Welcome to Shel’tain, Lady Amendera.’ The High Duke’s voice was low, but contained a sharp edge that cut across the rising wind. ‘We are honoured by your visit. What service can our humble house offer you?’

I let the breeze take his words and regarded him in silence. High Duke Ceithyr of Shel’tain was a lean, well-preserved man in his late middle age, with upswept silver hair and eyes the precise colour of the dull grey rock beneath his feet. He wore a suit of mesh armour as fine as my own, with a brindled fur mantle draped nonchalantly around his shoulders. His mouth curved in a smile of welcome that betrayed no trace of the revulsion he must have felt in my proximity. This was a man whose family had weathered the storms of Terra for a thousand years, and he looked every inch the part.

‘Lord Malcador has sent me to inspect your holdings.’ I took a step towards him, wondering if he would recoil, but he stood his ground. ‘He wishes to ascertain the nature and extent of your loyalty to the Emperor.’

‘Of course.’ The High Duke inclined his head. ‘I am at your disposal.’

Silence fell again. Since leaving the Silent Sisterhood – an order of witch-seekers, charged with eradicating all sorcerous threats to the Imperium – I found the endless chatter that surrounded me tiresome and draining. I had quickly learned that most individuals were unable to resist filling the gaps in conversation, and consequently could be relied upon to spill all manner of inappropriate confidences. Much to my inconvenience, however, it seemed the High Duke was possessed of steel within as well as without.

It took a full three hours to inspect the Shel’tain holdings, and by the end of the tour I was left with the impression that I had barely scratched the surface. The complex was squat and ugly, somewhere between a factorum and a fortress, clinging to the edge of a grey granite cliff. Centuries ago, Shel’tain had been an island chain whose settlements overlooked a vast ocean, but now the plain below the promontory stretched to the far horizon in an infinite expanse of white sand. Thin northern sunlight glinted across a silver net of cables connected to an array of geothermal lances driven deep into Terra’s crust. The planet’s resources might be all but spent, but the fires burning at its heart were still a font of limitless power for those with the means to harvest them.

‘May I offer you refreshments, Lady Amendera?’ the High Duke asked, when we had returned to the great stone portico where we had begun the tour hours before.

I waved his offer away and tried to conceal my frustration. What was the man hiding? In my brief tenure as Lord Malcador’s bloodhound, I had found few individuals who displayed the High Duke’s remarkable degree of composure. The mere mention of the Sigillite should have sent even the innocent into paroxysms of self-doubt, but the High Duke displayed only effortless confidence.

‘Then allow me to extend the invitation to explore my home as you see fit. I would have you return to Lord Malcador secure in the knowledge that Shel’tain’s loyalty is beyond reproach.’

My thoughts scrabbled for purchase on what was rapidly turning into an insoluble problem. The High Duke might well have omitted areas of his holdings from the tour he had so generously provided, but I had seen no signs of hidden doors or false walls that hinted at secret passageways. Short of pulling on every sconce and bookcase in the building, I had no idea where I would even start to look. Leaving now and returning later with soldiers was another option, but I feared that Lord Malcador would take a dim view of destruction wreaked on an ally whose crimes were yet unproven.

But that was the problem: there was no proof. Shel’tain had declared its loyalty to the Emperor early in His wars of Unification, and as His star had risen, so too had the Shel’tain family’s. Rivals had fallen away, one after another, perishing with startling regularity each time they might have stood in the High Duke’s way, though never with any evidence to link the family to the deaths. In more superstitious times, such relentless prosperity in the face of overwhelming hardship might have been considered a mark of divine favour, but I had been sent here in search of a more rational explanation. It was clear that Malcador suspected Shel’tain of something, but he had declined to share his reasons when he dispatched me to find out more.

Not for the first time, I found myself wondering why my lord had sent me rather than any one of a dozen more suitable agents. My presence here sent a clear message to the High Duke – that if evidence of his guilt was found, the wrath of the Sigillite would be swift and merciless – but I could not shake the feeling that there was something more to it than that. My mentor had been clear that I was here to investigate, not to punish, and that I would need more than my battlefield skills if I were to succeed.

I rather feared that the High Duke was not the only one being tested.

The door swung open, and a young woman in grey household livery walked briskly to the High Duke’s side. As she whispered into his ear, Lord Ceithyr’s expression changed to one of doubt, irritation and – there it was – an unmistakable hint of fear. His serene mask of confidence reasserted itself immediately, but the damage was already done. The High Duke was hiding something, just as Malcador had suspected.

All I had to do was find out what.

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A Black Library Publication

This eBook edition published in 2022 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

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