“What citizen of Ascension City hadn’t seen the Navigator palaces and marvelled at the wealth and majesty of them? Who hadn’t fantasised about venturing within, of experiencing the unthinkable luxury that must surely lie behind those thick, heavily guarded walls? Which of them hadn’t dreamed of a day, just one day, when they didn’t have to work in the Emperor’s name? Not that anyone begrudged Him their labour, of course, but perhaps there were those in the Navigators’ palaces who didn’t have to do it all the time?”
Exactly two years ago, it was none other than the Navis Nobilite that had, quite literally, guided me onto the path to the Warhammer 40,000. Yes, they were the first faction I had developed a genuine interest in, and that I still regard as one of the setting’s coolest – even though they mostly seem to be engaged with internecine rivalries and clandestine politicking rather than devoting themselves to their primary duties. Ergo, I couldn’t have missed the first-ever Black Library novel entirely centered on this obscenely rich, at once hated and revered, and just absolutely vital three-eyed folk whose gene-crafted talents essentially hold the Mankind’s galactic domain together. Now, having read Rites of Passage I’ve discovered that its main strength lies in the truly eclectic mix of primary and supporting characters from almost all walks of Imperial life. Frankly, not many Warhammer tales manage to reflect the Imperium’s motley society this well, and with every single character’s temper, vocation and background reflected so nicely.
The book’s indisputable star is Lady Chettamandey Brobantis – a skilled Navigator, sanctioned mutant, grieving widow and prospective leader of her late husband’s family – whose acquaintance we’d made in the Necromunda short story A Common Ground. An engaging character despite – or due to – her weaknesses and flaws, she is an ideal, pleasingly complex protagonist. Even if admittedly, despite my best efforts I personally found it pretty hard to root for Lady Brobantis all that much. Because, dare I say, even though it may be a perfectly customary practice in the Navigator households, murdering one’s other half whose only fault was to dare choose less than perfect life-partners for their children doesn’t justify a death sentence this undignified and violent. Then again, perhaps I’m being too harsh on Chetta; for despite this particular wrongdoing, she still does strike one as capable of perfectly human concerns, emotions and feats of bravery. Granted, she comes across as rather manipulative and scheming, belonging as she does to a family more akin to a mafia clan than Imperial aristocracy, yet has enough redeeming features to ignore the fact that her kinsfolk actually have precious little in common with true humanity. With her stubborn perseverance, endearing self-irony and innate quick wits, this outwardly frail old lady proves a much tougher person than we might initially think. When dragged into a close confrontation against enemy witches, mutants and even daemons, Lady Brobantis uses her special gifts in a wholly unexpected way – and prevails. Also, despite her kin’s inherent suspiciousness balancing upon a delicate line between risky naivety and outright paranoia, Chetta is willing to see good traits in people (save hardcore heretics, that is) and generally acts like a strict but fair ‘godmother’ towards those who deserve it most. However, I had really expected more scenes with her two kids, Ranovel and Felicia – after all, they got the least coverage time... Could it be a promise of more next-generation Brobantis tales to come, I wonder?
Of course, the very status, power and influence the Navis Nobilite families enjoy must inevitably attract proper antagonists, and Brooks provides these with a flourish. We are presented with a unique glimpse into a dilettante bunch of Chaos cultists that’d probably have never gotten anywhere if not for their mysterious, off-world leader – a cynical rogue psyker Niklau, who offers his gullible cronies a brilliant plan of using local Navigators to stage a Dark Ritual of Epic Proportions intended to glut their ‘true masters’ on the unsuspecting populace of Planet Vorlese. And, as is often the case with heretics, Niklau’s views concerning the ancient leviathan of the Imperium are delightfully, wittily spot-on.
“Let the chattel think that there was a purpose to their misery, a good reason why you were not providing joy and comfort here and now, and they’d carry blindly on with the grim determination of a person dying of thirst who’s been told that a spring lies just over the next hill.”
“Billions of souls swallowed into an eternity of torture, and the ailing behemoth of which they had been a part wouldn’t so much as blink.”
Thanks to the author’s lively, fast-paced narration constantly switching between the viewpoints from both the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’ sides, it’s an especial relish to follow the loyalists’ actions as they’re desperately trying to figure out what we, the readers, already know or suspect. They don’t remain in the dark for long, though – for sooner than later, a powerful representative of a universally-dreaded Imperial authority, Lady Inquisitor Zaretta Ngiri who had already appeared in Mike’s other short story, The Path Unclear – steps into the light, somehow armed with an impressive lot of compromising intel on House Brobantis…
‘So here we are. The unprepared, arraying ourselves against the unfathomable, on behalf of the unaware.’
‘Welcome to His Majesty’s Divine Inquisition.’
Reading the debut full-length novel from one of the Black Library’s newest authors was a great pleasure. To have written about such a little-explored part of the Warhammer universe must be a dream come true, and it’s clearly evident that Mike Brooks had much fun creating this book. Of course, while reading the Rites I often couldn’t help but think back to the only other tale in which the Navigators play a significant part, Wolfblade; and naturally, appreciated all the fleeting mentions of House Belisarius amongst the wealth of fan-service – Brook’s way, I think, of paying homage to William King’s classic. While retaining much of its predecessor’s literary influence, Rites of Passage take place in the current Warhammer 40K timeline where, despite the return of Primarch Guilliman, the aftermath of the 13th Black Crusade is still fresh in people’s memory, the Cicatrix Maledictum glows menacingly in the firmament, and almost every planet stands the risk of falling victim to the Mankind’s oldest enemies.
With its dynamic plot strands, colourful language and precious remarks on not just Navigators but almost every other aspect of 40K background (notably more than in any other recent book) – from the peculiarities of Administratum ranking system to the labour conditions of bonded workers – Mike Brooks very ably demonstrates that he has enough potential for many further stories set in the worlds of Warhammer. As befits a genuine trademark 40K story, there is pathos in abundance, there is fighting, there’s endurance… and there is also humour – that, despite all odds, helps the loyalists and heretics alike to face the grim realities of their existence. Indeed, there are enough great moments of such kind on almost every page to masterly set the book’s unique tone. Warmly hilarious or darkly sarcastic, mostly lore-based jokes, shrewd observations with the perceptive eyes of a seasoned Navigator, and other little details go along with – unusually for Warhammer in general – decidedly humane approach that’s also very much present, for example, in Mike's Necromunda novella Wanted: Dead. What is also of particular notice about Rites of Passage is that it most closely approaches the semblance of a happy end in a Warhammer book. Indeed, loyalty, hard work and valiance are eventually rewarded, and gruesome crimes duly punished – which, I guess, must reflect the setting’s current direction towards a more hope-filled, rather than bleak and fearful, Imperium. An Imperium that, to all intents and purposes, looks like it might need more Navigators than ever before.
P.S. Another great cover illustration, this one. Russian artists really make Black Library proud…