"Listen, Bejand. You are an outstanding staff officer, and I value your loyalty and concern. But why\ does one warrior-lodge initiation on one feral world disturb you so? I've gone through more than twenty of these rituals in the past. I've been a Space Marine and a commander of Marines for more than a century. You need have no fears for me." "My lord, I..." The Warmaster rose abruptly. "Enough." His voice was softer, more dangerous. "I am Horus, General and Warmaster. The first soldier of the Imperium, subordinate only to the Emperor himself. Shall it be said that Horus ran away from a hutful of savages?" Bejand struggled for words. "My lord... I have had - dreams..." His distress was genuine. Horus laid a hand on his shoulder. "Control yourself." he said gently. "You are excused for the rest of the day. Go to the Apothacarion for a psychological update. And then, perhaps, to the Chapel. A few hours' meditation will do you good. Unless you prefer to report these dreams and submit yourself to the Inquisition for psychic potential testing?" Bejand swallowed hard. "No, my lord." "Well, then." Horus patted his shoulder gently. "Go now, and we'll say no more. Meanwhile, I must meet the elders of the Knife of Stone."

And in the Warp, something smiled