It took half an hour of threats and shoving to walk the short distance between the military transit station and the precinct office. This was a shift-change hour, so the stinking, unwashed, crowded streets were jam packed with Ashnan under-hive’s hard-working people. And one might think that “people” was a generous term for some of the xenos monstrosities that lumbered around this dank cave. For, despite the Sherden Pact’s commitment to maintaining a strict monopoly on control of transit between hive levels, gangers smuggling contraband and migrants was an unavoidable fact of life. This illicit movement of people made Ashnan under-hive a haven for anyone who found themselves within the Sanguinary Utnapishtim but wanted to avoid scrutiny.

Runaway wardum trying to escape their allotted place in life, cowards and peace-mongers who rejected Khorne’s holy war cry, Imperium-loyalist refugees seeking out the stability of the Sanguinary Utnapishtim amidst the chaos of Nihlus, criminals dodging the gladiatorial arena or sacrificial altar — all sorts of people eventually found their way down here. And, since the Empire had been tolerant of xenos ever since the great theological slaughter of ’274 had conclusively established that Khorne cared not for evolutionary lineage, the melange included plenty of distinctly inhuman castaways. It all amounted to a whole lotta different kinda folk packed in together, whose one unifying factor was dislike for anyone wearing the red and black of the Pact.

Dayyānu’s equerry, Rab-Karri, had not yet actually explained the circumstances surrounding the unlicensed murder. SoDayyānu had no real context for the vision that greeted her upon opening the door to her dingy second floor office.

Well, “greeted” was perhaps too generous a term. Scowled at, more accurately put. The vision in question was a woman, sitting across from Dayyānu’s desk and smoking lho-sticks that somehow smelt even cheaper than Dayyānu’s. Her purple-dyed bob-cut was wrapped tight in one of those shawls especially pious women wore attending sacrificial service, designed to absorb any blood splatter that should reach their pew and ensure the bloodstains really stuck. Her synth-leather trench-coat somewhat belied the holy look, as it seemed more like military dress than temple-wear. But Dayyānu had to stifle a laugh when she took in the stiletto boots that completed the outfit. These, after all, were another religious affectation; jackboots with a short and absurdly impractical switch blade that could be kicked out from the toes, in case Khorne ever demanded the blood flowed from someone’s shins, Dayyānu supposed. But most striking of all were eyes. Those murderous eyes casually exuding the sort of pure hate that the paters promised that Khorne held in his heart for all. And they were staring right at Dayyānu. “Great,” she thought to herself; “a daemon-botherer. Or, at least, someone who really wants me to think she’s one.”

Rab-Karri, arriving moments later, bristled at the scene. He snapped at the seated woman:

“You will stand to attention for your Arnogaur, Tammuz Sirdar!”

Without shifting her attention to Rab-Karri even in the slightest, the seated woman now identified as Tammuz unfurled herself. Almost lazily she made her way to her feet, placing her lho-stick in her mouth so she could make the sign of the mighty in a mockingly dainty fashion, her right hand hand gently forming a clasp and slowly pumping down into her opened left palm.

No fool, Rab-Karri saw the mock performance for what it was, and began to unsheathe the blade he kept strapped across his chest. Dayyānu wearily held up her hands as she crossed round to sit at her desk, and intervened before her day got any more complicated:

“At ease the pair of you - and save the duelling for the arena maybe? I got a headache and don’t need that noise right now.”

The now standing Tammuz gave Rab-Karri a wink before flitting her attention back to Dayyānu.

“Of course, my Arnogaur. Your wisdom approaches that of the Blood Lord. Me and your pet here,”

(Dayyānu ignored the string of profanities from Rab-Karri who was now standing to her right, and was relieved Tammuz did not rise to the various martial challenges admixed therein.)

“were just getting acquainted, before we were alerted that you were returning and they scurried away to greet you with their tail wagging. I’m sure they’ve already told you the dreadful news; there’s been an unlicensed murder and I’m here to report it.”

Dayyānu took a moment to ponder whether the ambiguity was deliberate before replying.

“That so? Well, start from the top; what happened and why are you the one telling me about it, Sirdar?”

Tammuz sat back down, lit up another lho-stick — disinterestedly asking Dayyānu “You don’t mind, do you?” only after taking a long drag and blowing the smoke in Rab-Karri’s direction — and began to tell her tale.

“I’d just got off shift so I went to attend the sacrificial service down Dilbat way - do you know Brethren Mulu? You really must see the things he can do to wardum with a ritual knife, their screams of rage and pain do Khorne such honour. It’s to kill for, really it is. In any case, after being reinvigorated by Khorne’s hateful war-cry I thought I’d take the long route home. Hoped some ganger scum might pick a fight, let me do some private worship of my own this evening. You know how it gets, gal’s gotta have her fun.”

A pause as she took a drag.

“Anyway, there I was beneath Dilbat pass when what did I see but one lowlife hiver taking a knife out the back of another. Well, it is my lucky evening, I thought - Khorne delivered unto me someone up for a fight! So, mighty warrior that I am, I was terrible in my onset, prompt in my decision,”

Her voice took on a reverential tone as she quoted scripture, and for the briefest of moments as she did so a hint of sadness crossed her countenance. Blink and you’d have missed it, though, for she immediately moved on in her story;

“I cried out a challenge, raised my axe and went straight in to claim his skull. But the disgusting coward,” (as she said this she jabbed her lho-stick out so violently she dropped it) “he ran from me! He ran! I thought for a moment to pursue, but since I couldn’t see which way the bastard had gone I did the only sane thing I could; I vented my rage by hacking at the body, see if I could at least get some decent splatter going that way.”

A pause as she took out another lho-stick, lit it, and took a drag.

“Or, at least, I started to. Because after the first blow the corpse turned over; I saw the face, and I realised there was no way this one was licensed. So I hid the body and reported to you as soon as I could.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dayyānu spluttered, losing her usual cool; “you hid the body?”

Dayyānu sympathised with Rab-Karri’s string of exclaimed epithets this time, and could think of a choice few more she’d add to the mix. This was a society dedicated to Khorne, and the only thing that had kept command from simply firebombing Ashnan Under-Hive clean was the rate of violent crime here being so high that the theological case for keeping it around had been overwhelming.

“Do you have any idea how detrimental to the Empire a murder has to be for it to be unlicensed 'round here, Sirdar? Because if you do then what by Khorne’s holy rage made you think it was acceptable to tamper with the evidence!?”

“Oh I’m pretty sure this one was detrimental enough, my Arnogaur. And in a moment you’re going to thank me for hiding the body too. Because, that body? It belonged to Pagru Demigaur; your direct superior, and Lord Commandant of the entire Ashnan Occupational Force.”

to be continued