The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第11部分

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im　with　the　edge　of　my
blade。　The　Carthaens　believe　side…blade　work　is　lazy；　and　stress　the　use　of　the　point。
But　what　the　hell。
Nayl　had　killed　the　third　attacker　with　a　bodypunch；　and　as　I　turned；　he　locked　both　of　the　female's　sickles　around　his　twisting　knife
and　ran　her　through　with　his　main　blade。
He　turned　to　me　and　raised　his　bloody　shortsword　to　his　nose　in　a　salute。　I　returned　it　with　my　rapier。
The　siren　of　an　arbites　groundcar　was　wailing　along　the　alley。　'Time　to　be　gone；'　I　said　to　Nayl。
'I　THOUGHT　YOU　were　dead！'　Bequin　cursed　as　Nayl　and　I　burst　in　to　the　room　in　the　''Twist　and　Sleep''。
'We　had　some　fun　on　the　way　home；'　Nayl　said。　'Don't　worry；　Lizzie；　I　brought　the　boss　back　safe。'
I　smiled　and　fixed　myself　a　small　amasec　from　the　bureau。　Bequin　hated　to　be　called　''Lizzie''。　Only　Nayl　had　the　balls　to　do　it。
Aemos　was　hovering　by　the　window。　Somehow；　the　rags　of　his　twist　disguise　suited　him。
'Most　perturbatory…　the　arbites　are　coming　this　way。'
'What？'
Nayl　moved　to　the　window。
'Aemos　is　right。　Three　land　cruisers　pulled　up　outside。　Officers　coming　in。'
'Hide　yourselves；　now！'　I　ordered。
Aemos　hurried　through　the　communicating　door　into　the　other　bedchamber　and　threw　himself　down　on　the　cot。　Nayl　blundered　into
the　adjoining　bathroom　and　used　a　tooth　mug　and　loud　groans　to　suggest　he　was　busy　throwing　up。
Alizebeth　looked　at　me　frantically。
'Into　bed！　Hurry！'　I　ordered。
The　arbites　kicked　open　the　door　and　played　their　flashlights　over　the　bed。　'Hive　arbites！　Who's　in　here？'
'What　is　this？'　I　asked；　dragging　the　sheets　back。
'Streetfight　killers…　witnesses　said　they　came　in　here；'　said　the　arbites　sergeant；　advancing　towards　the　bed。
'Me；　I　been　here　all　night。　Me　and　my　friends。'
'They　gonna　vouch　for　you；　twist？'　asked　the　sergeant；　raising　his　weapon。
'Wass　goin'　on？　Too　much　light！'　said　Bequin；　emerging　from　the　dirty　linen　on　the　bed。　Somehow　she　had　removed　her　dress　beneath
the　sheets。　Clad　in　brief　underwear；　she　slithered　on　top　of　me。
'Wass　you　doin'？　Stoppin'　a　girl　makin'　her　way？　Shame　on　you！'
The　sergeant　ran　his　flashlight　beam　up　and　down　the　length　of　her　body　as　it　clung　to　me。　I　smiled　the　inane　smile　of　the　lucky　or
well…oiled。
He　snapped　the　light　off。　'Sorry　to　interrupt　you；　miss。'　The　door　closed　and　the　arbites　thumped　away。
I　looked　down　at　Bequin　with　a　wink。　'Good　improvisation；'　I　said。
She　leapt　off　me　and　grabbed　her　clothes。　'Don't　get　any　funny　ideas；　Gregor！'
I'D　HAD　FUNNY　ideas　about　her　for　years；　truth　be　told。　She　was　beautiful　and　sublimely　sexy。　But　she　was　also　an　untouchable。　It　hurt
me　to　be　close　to　her；　physically　hurt。
I　hate　that　fact。　I　feel　a　lot　for　Bequin　and　I　long　to　be　with　her；　but　it　was　never　going　to　happen。　Never；　ever。
That's　one　of　the　truly　great　sadnesses　of　my　life。
And　hers　too；　I　hope；　in　my　more　self…aggrandising　moments。
I　lay　in　bed　and　watched　her　drag　on　her　dress　again；　and　I　felt　the　pang　of　desire。
But　there　was　no　way。　No　way　in　the　galaxy。
She　was　untouchable。　I　was　a　psyker。
That　way　pain　and　madness　lay。

TEN
RUMINATIONS　ON　LYKO。
THE　CHEW〢FTER。
THE　HIGHEST　BIDDER。
TUMULTUOUS　SAP…STORMS　hammered　the　twist…town　in　the　pre…dawn；　blanketing　the　sky　with　swirling　vapours　and　shaking　the　tiles
and　shutters　with　the　gross　weight　of　their　heavy　pelting　goop。　Thunder　rolled。　In　the　aftermath；　veils　of　mist　swathed　the　countryside；
and　the　stillness　was　alive　with　gurgling　and　dripping　and　the　swarming　scurry　of　sap…lice　and　storm…bugs。
Nayl　went　out　early　with　Aemos　and　bought　paper　pails　of　warm　food　from　the　twist…town　commissary　just　down　the　street；　which
was　already　serving　the　work　lines　forming　for　the　shift　change　in　the　mills。　By　the　time　they　returned；　we　had　been　joined　by　Inshabel
and　Husmaan；　who　had　slept　through　the　night's　altercation　with　the　arbites　in　a　shared　room　down　the　hall。
I'd　yet　to　formally　notify　the　ordo　that　Inshabel　had　joined　my　band；　but　he　was　now　very　much　part　of　it。　I　felt　he　had　the　right　to　be
here　on　this　mission；　for　Roban's　sake；　and　for　his　own。　He　had　brought　the　news　of　Esarhaddon　to　me；　directly　and　selflessly。　Few　of
my　team　yet　referred　to　him　by　his　rank　…　it　would　be　a　long　while　until　anyone　eclipsed　the　memory　of　Interrogator　Ravenor　…　but　he
had　meshed　well；　with　his　bright　mind　and　healthy；　caustic　wit。　He　was　already　providing　me　with　more　solid　service　than　Alain　von
Baigg　had　ever　managed。
Duj　Husmaan　had　been　a　skin…hunter　on　his　homeworld　of　Windhover　when　Harlon　Nayl　had　first　met　him。　That　was　back　in　Nayl's
bounty…chasing　days；　before　he'd　joined　my　cause。　I'd　recruited　Husmaan　eight　years　before　on　Nayl's　recommendation；　and　he'd
proved　to　be　a　resourceful；　if　superstitious；　warrior　with　a　great　sense　for　pathfinding。　Nayl　had　personally　selected　him　from　the
individuals　in　my　retinue　as　muscle　for　this　venture；　and　I　had　no　quibble　with　the　choice。
Husmaan　was　a　slender　man　of　medium　height　with　coppery　skin　and　white；　sun…scorched　hair　and　goatee。　Here　on　Eechan；　like　all　of
us；　he'd　drabbed　down　his　clothing　to　ragged　black　twist　robes。　He　ignored　the　bundle　of　disposable　wooden　forks　that　Aemos　had
brought　back　from　the　commissary　and　started　to　eat　the　hot　food　from　his　paper　pail　with　his　fingers。
I　picked　at　my　own　food　idly；　wondering　how　close　we　were　to　Lyko。
LYKO　HAD　BEEN　a　fool　and　had　damned　himself。　The　damaging　revelation　that　it　hadn't　been　Esarhaddon　who　had　been　torched　on　the
lawns　of　the　Lange　palace　could　have　been　circumvented　if　Lyko　had　kept　his　head。　He　could　have　claimed　it　a　mistake；　another
example　of　the　heretic　psyker's　treachery。
But　Lyko　had　run。　Out　of　fear；　or　chasing　some　timetable；　I　didn't　know。　But　he'd　run　and；　in　so　doing；　incriminated　himself。
I'd　gone　to　his　residence；　a　rented　hab　high　in　the　spires　of　Hive　Ten；　the　moment　Inshabel　had　alerted　me　to　the　deceit。　But　Lyko　had
cleared　out；　taking　his　people　with　him。　His　hab　was　empty　and　abandoned；　with　just　a　few　scatterings　of　trash　left　behind　in　the
stripped　rooms。
I　had　set　my　staff　to　work　tracing　him；　a　tall　order　given　the　planet…wide　data…access　problems　in　the　wake　of　the　rioting。　I　had　decided
almost　at　once　to　pursue　him　alone；　without　informing　the　Inquisition。　You　may　see　this　as　odd；　almost　reckless。　In　a　way；　it　was。　But
Lyko　was　an　inquisitor　of　good　repute；　held　in　high　regard；　and　with　many　friends。　There　was　scant　chance　I　could　tell　the　ordos　I　was
undertaking　a　hunt　for　him　on　the　basis　he　was　harbouring　a　notorious　rogue　psyker　without　the　fact　reaching　him；　or　without　his
friends　making　trouble　for　me。
Those　friends　of　his；　of　course；　included　Heldane　and　Commodus　Voke：　the　stalwart　trio　that　had　captured　the　thirty…three　rogues　on
Dolsene　in　the　first　place。　How　empty　that　''heroic''　action　now　seemed　to　me。　I　had　been　so　impressed　when　Lord　Rorken　had　shown
me　the　report。　Perhaps　the　''capture''　had　been　easy；　or　even　staged；　if　Lyko　was　secretly　in　league　with　Esarhaddon。　Perhaps　it　had　all
been　part　of　an　elaborate　conspiracy　to　perpetrate　the　atrocity　of　Hive　Primaris。
I　was　dogged　by　grim；　unanswerable　speculations。　I　had　no　way　to　prove　Lyko　was　corrupt；　not　even　now；　though　I　certainly
suspected　it。　He　might　have　been　an　unwitting　pawn　on　Dolsene；　or　at　the　Lange　palace；　or　he　might　have　been　in　it　all　along。　It　was
possible　too　that　his　departure　from　Thracian　was　a　coincidence　that　I　had　misinterpreted。　It　wouldn't　have　been　the　first　time　an
inquisitor　had　moved　undercover　without　announcement。
It　was　even　possible　that　he　too　had　discovered　the　deceit　after　the　event；　and　was　moving　fast　following　some　lead　to　make　amends
for　his　mistake。　Or　that　he　was　fleeing　the　shame…　or…
So　many　possibilities。　I　had　to　play　the　odds　the　safest　way。　I　was　sure　Lyko　was　guilty　to　a　greater　or　lesser　extent；　so　I　would　follow
him。　Even　if　he　was　simply　chasing　Esarhaddon　too；　it　would　lead　me　in　the　right　direction。
And　I　couldn't　inform　the　Inquisition；　or　talk　to　Voke　or　Heldane。　My　uncertainty　was　such　that　I　couldn't　even　trust　them　not　to　be
part　of　it。
A　COMPLEX　TRAIL　of　almost　subliminal　clues　had　put　me　on　his　tail。　I'll　spare　you　the　bulk　of　the　details；　for　they　would　merely
document　the　painstaking　tedium　that　is　often　the　better　part　of　an　inquisitor's　work。　Suffice　to　say；　we　searched　and　processed　vox
logs；　and　the　broadcast　archives　of　the　local　and　planetary　astropathic　guilds。　We　watched　ship　transfers；　orbital　traffic；　departure　lists；

cargo　movements。　I　had　personnel　in　the　streets；　watching　key　locations；　asking　off…the…record　questions　in　trader　bars；　calling　in
favours　from　friends　of　friends；　acquaintances　of　acquaintances；　even　one　or　too　old　adversaries。　I　hired　trackers　and　bloodhounders；
and　took　every　scent　trace　I　could　from　Lyko's　apartment。　I　had　pheromone　codes　programmed　into　servitor　skulls　that　I　released　into
up…ports　and　orbital　stations。
I　had　well　over　a　hundred　personnel　on　my　staff；　many　of　them　trained　hunters；　researchers　or　surveillancers；　but　I　swear　the　sheer
load　of　data　would　have　burned　out　our　brains。
We　would　have　failed　without　Aemos。　My　old　savant　simply　rose　to　the　challenge；　never　put　off；　never　fatigued；　his　mind　soaking　in
more　and　more　information　and　making　a　thousand　mental　cross　checks　and　comparisons　every　hour；　tasks　I　couldn't　have　managed　in
a　day　with　a　codifier　engine　and　a　datascope。
He　seemed；　damn　his　old　bones；　to　enjoy　it。
The　clues　came　in；　one　by　one。　A　shipment　of　cargo　put　into　long…term　storage　in　a　holding　house　in　Hive　Eight　and　paid　for　by　a
debit　transfer　from　one　of　Lyko's　known　associates。　A　two…second　pheromone　trace　in　the　departure　halls　of　a　commercial　port　down
on　the　coast　at　Far　Hive　Beta。　A　fuzzy　image　captured　from　a　Munitorium　pict…watcher　on　the　streets　of　Hive　Primaris。
A　passenger　on　a　manifest　listing　making　an　unnecessary　number　of　interconnecting　flights　between　up…ports　before　moving　off
planet；　as　if　trying　to　lose　pursuit。
Then　the　key　ones：　a　cursory　excise　exam　of　freight　that　registered　the　presence　of　psi…baffling　equipment　in　an　off…wo　rid　shipment。
A　series　of　clumsily　disguised　and　presumably　hasty　bribes　to　key　longshoremen　at　the　Primaris　starport。　A　rogue　trader　vessel　…　the
Princeps　Amalgum　…　staying　a　day　longer　at　high…anchor　than　it　had　logged　permission　to　do；　and　then　a　sudden　change　in　its　course
plans。
Instead　of　a　long　run　to　the　Ursoridae　Reef；　it　was　heading　spinwards；　via　Front's　World；　to　the　twist　farms　of　Eechan。
THERE　WAS　A　knock　at　the　room　door　just　after　dawn；　and　I　sent　everyone　except　Nayl　into　the　adjoining　room。　Bequin　and　Inshabel
had　the　presence　of　mind　to　scoop　up　all　the　food　pails　except　two。　I　went　over　to　the　window；　and　Nayl　sat　down　in　a　chair；　with　his
arm　casually　over　the　back　so　anyone　coming　in　couldn't　see　the　autopistol　in　his　hand。
I　focussed　my　mind　for　a　moment　to　make　sure　our　twist　disguises　were　live；　and　then　said；　'Enter。'
The　door　opened　and　the　porcupine　girl　from　the　twist　bar　came　in。　She　was　dressed　in　a　glistening　sap…cloak；　and　she　looked　at　us
curiously　as　she　pushed　back　her　hood。
'You　take　your　time；　twists；'　she　said。
'You　got　something；　sweetgene；　or　you　simply　s'got　to　check　the　good　stuff　you　passed　on　last　night？'　Nayl　asked　with　a　lascivious
smile。
She　scowled；　and　a　head　crest　of　spines　rose　in　a　threat　posture。
'I　s'got　a　message。　You　know　who　from。'
'The　Phant？'
'I　ain't　saying；　genesmudge。　I　just　bring　it。'
'Then　s'bring　it。'
She　reached　into　her　cloak　and　produced　an　old；　low…tech　tracker　set；　battered　and　worn。　Holding　it　up　briefly；　she　thumbed　it　on　long
enough　for　us　to　see　the　green　telltale　winking；　and　then　switched　it　off　again　and　dropped　it　with　a　clatter　onto　the　peeling　tabletop。
'S'gonna　be　an　auction。　Bidder's　market；　so　bring　lotsa　yellow；　he　says。　Lotsa。'
'Where？　When？'
'Today　at　shift　two；　in　the　chew…after。　That　s'tell　you　where。'
'That　it？'　I　asked。
'S'all　I　have。　I　just　bring　it。'　She　hesitated　at　the　door。　'You　s'might　wanna　make　my　worth　while。'
I　put　my　hand　into　my　coat　pocket　and　pulled　out　a　single；　large　denomination　Imperial　coin。
'You　take　these？'
Her　eyes　lit　up。　'I　take　anything。'
I　tossed　it　over　to　her　and　she　caught　it　with　one　hand。
'Thanks；'　she　said。　She　went　out　through　the　door　and　then　looked　back　at　us；　as　if　my　generous　contribution　to　her　immediate
happiness　had　shifted　her　opinion　of　us。
Which；　sadly；　given　this　miserable　place；　it　probably　had。
'S'don't　trust　him；'　she　advised；　then　closed　the　door　and　left。
THE　CHEW…AFTER　WAS　the　local　name　given　to　the　tracts　of　farmland　laid　waste　after　the　harvesters　had　been　through。　Wrecklands　of
shredded　vegetation　that　began　to　regrow　within　days　of　a　harvest；　such　was　the　speed　and　fecundity　of　Eechan's　floral　growth。　At　any
one　time；　there　were　several　thousand　square　kilometres　of　chew…after　in　the　farmlands　round　the　mainhive。
We　headed　south；　into　the　most　recent　areas　of　thresh…wake；　following　the　signal　of　the　tracker。
NOON。　THAT　WAS　what　she　had　meant　by　shift　two。　The　second　shift　change　of　the　day。　We　gave　ourselves　two　hours　to　get　there。
ON　TOP　OF　all　my　speculations　about　Lyko；　things　still　didn't　add　up。　It　had　been　easy　enough　for　Nayl　to　identify　Phant　Mastik　as　the
local　slaver；　with　a　specialisation　in　mindjobs；　but　why　was　Lyko　using　him？　Why　was　Lyko　selling　Esarhaddon　at　all？

Aemos　had　suggested　it　was　part　of　a　final　trade　now　that　Esarhaddon　had　completed　his　part　of　their　pact。　That　supposed　Lyko　was　in
control；　which　I　doubted。　And　if　he　was　simply　cutting　the　heretic　loose　now　the　work　was　done；　why　sell　him？　Why；　indeed；　come　all
this　way　to　do　that？　Inshabel　supposed　that　maybe　Lyko　was　now　anxious　to　get　rid　of　the　rogue…psyker　because　he　was　afraid　of　him。
I　had　my　own　theory。　Lyko　had　brought　Esarhaddon　to　Eechan　for　some　other　purpose；　and　arranging　a　mock　sale　through　the　Phant
was　simply　bait　to　draw　anyone　who　might　have　followed　him　out　into　the　open。
As　it　turned　out；　I　was　right。　I　wasn't　surprised。　It's　what　I　would　have　done。
THE　CHEW…AFTER　was　a　miasmal　waste。　As　far　as　the　eye　could　see；　which　wasn't　far　at　all　given　the　clinging　sap…mists　from　the　night
before；　the　land　was　a　gouged；　punished　rain　of　ripped　shoots；　shredded　plant…fibre；　wrenched…up　root　balls　and　pressure…flattened　soil。
The　massive　track…marks　of　the　harvesters　had　left　wide　ruts　the　depth　of　a　man's　waist；　at　the　bottom　of　which　plant　material　and　soil
was　layered　into　a　glassy　flatness　like　they　had　been　set　in　aspic。
The　misty　air　was　wet　with　sap　and　everything　was　crawling　with　lice　motes　and　storm…bugs。　They　swarmed　in　the　air；　settled　all　over
us；　and　we　could　feel　them　in　our　clothes。
By　then；　although　we　maintained　our　twist　disguises；　we　were　all　armed　and　armoured　at　full　strength。　One　doesn't　walk　into　a　likely
trap　with　a　blackpowder　pistol　and　a　sharp　stick。　I　wore　body　armour；　and　carried　my　power　sword　and　boltpistol。　The　others　were
similarly　heavy　with　bat…tlegear。　If　we　were　caught　now；　maintaining　the　pretence　we　were　twists　would　be　the　last　of　our　problems。
TEN　KILOMETRES　SOUTH；　through　the　swirling；　sticky　mists；　we　could　hear　the　chugging；　rending　sounds　of　the　harvesters　as　they
moved　on　their　way。　Every　few　metres　there　was　another　bloody　smear　or　furry　pulp；　the　remains　of　crop　rodents　caught　in　the　reaping
blades　of　the　factory　machines。
'You'd　think；'　said　Inshabel；　pausing　to　wipe　the　gooey　sweat　from　his　face；　'that　the　wildlife　would　have　got　used　to　the　farm…factories
by　now。　Learned　to　get　out　of　the　way。'
'Some　things　never　learn；'　Husmaan　muttered。　'Some　things　always　come　back　to　the　source。'
'He　means　food。　He　always　means　food；'　Nayl　chuckled　to　me。　'To　Duj；　everything　comes　back　to　food。'
'According　to　mill　statistics；'　said　Aemos；　'there　are　four　billion　crop…rats　in　every　demitare　of　field　space。　Rivers　of　them　flee　before
the　harvesters。　We've　seen　one　rat…corpse　for　every　twenty…two　metres；　which　suggests　only　two…point…two　per　cent　of　them　were
unlucky　enough　to　be　caught　in　the　blades。　That　means　the　vast　percentage　fled。　They're　smarter　than　you　think。'
He　paused。　Everyone　had　stopped　and　was　staring　at　him。
'What？'　he　asked。　'What？　I　was　only　saying…'
'That　old　geezer　fantisises　about　maths　and　stats　more'n　I　fantisise　about　the　laydies；'　Nayl　told　Bequin　as　we　moved　forward　again。
'I'm　not　sure　which　of　you　I'm　supposed　to　feel　more　sorry　for；'　she　said。
HUSMAAN　HELD　UP　the　tracker　the　Porcupine…girl　had　given　us　and　shook　it。　Then　he　slapped　it　a　couple　of　times　for　good　measure。
We　waded　through　the　plant　fibre　and　came　level　with　him。
'Problem？'　I　asked。
'Damn　thing…　too　old。'
'Let　me　see　it。'
Husmaan　handed　it　to　me。　It　was　a　piece　of　crap；　all　right。　Battered　by　a　lifetime　of　hard　knocks；　with　a　nearly　flat　powercell。　A　nice
touch　that；　I　thought；　noting　Lyko's　careful　planning。　An　unreliable　tracker　made　this　seem　so　much　more　genuine。　A　brand　new　or
well…powered　unit　would　have　been　as　good　as　a　written　invitation　beginning　''Dear　people　chasing　me；　please　come　here　and　get
killed''。
I　shook　the　device　myself　and　got　a　good　return。　Just　enough　juice　to　lead　us　to　our　deaths。
'That　way；'　I　said。
IT　WAS　CLOSE　to　noon。　The　sun　was　up；　but　the　sap…mists　hadn't　dissipated。　We　were　bathed　in　a　warm；　yellow；　filmy　glare。　According
to　the　tracker；　we　were　about　half　a　kilometre　from　the　auction　site。
'They're　expecting　me　and　Nayl；　so　we'll　go　in　with　Bequin。'　I　wanted　an　untouchable　close　to　me。　'Inshabel；　cut　east　with　Aemos。
Husmaan；　west。　Covering　positions。　Don't　move　in　unless　you　hear　me　vox　a　direct　command。　Understand？'
The　three　nodded。
'If　you　find　anything；　keep　it　Glossia　and　keep　it　brief。　Go。'
Nathun　Inshabel　armed　his　lascarbine　and　moved　away　to　the　left　with　Aemos　along　a　harvester　track…bed；　leaving　tacky　footprints　in
the　glassy；　crashed　residue　at　the　bottom　of　the　huge　rat。　Husmaan's　hempcloth…wrapped　long…las　was　already　armed。　He　darted　away
to　the　right；　quickly　lost　in　the　mist。
'Shall　we？'　I　said　to　Bequin　and　Nayl。
'After　you；'　Nayl　grinned。
I　made　one　last　command　by　vox；　in　Glossia　code；　and　we　trudged　into　the　ripped　thickets　of　the　chew…after。
THE　PHANT'S　PEOPLE　had　used　flamers　to　clear　a　wide　space　in　the　morass　of　the　chew…over。　We　could　smell　the　burnt　pulp…fibre　from
several　dozen　metres　away。

The　mist　was　still　close；　but　I　could　make　out　several　crop…runner　trucks；　skimmers　and　land　speeders　parked　in　the　blackened
clearing。　People　bustled　around　them。
'WHAT　DO　YOU　see？'　I　asked　Nayl。
He　played　his　magnoculars　round　again。　'Phant…　and　his　twist　cronies。　The　horned　guy；　and　that　eyeball　creep。　Maybe　a　dozen；　some
of　whom　think　they're　hidden　around　the　perimeter。　Plus　the　prospective　buyers。　I　make…　three…　no；　four；　all　hive…types；　with
minders。　Sixteen　other　bodies；　all　told。'
I　yanked　up　my　hood。　'Come　on。'
'There's　an　alarm　strand　round　the　site。'
'We'll　trip　it。　That's　what　it's　there　for。'
THE　ALARM　STRAND　was　an　ankle…high　wire…cord　tied　taut　between　the　churned　root　clumps。　Every　metre　or　so；　the　air…dried　shell　case
of　a　storm　bug　was　carefully　tied　to　it；　forming　a　little；　hollow…sounding　bell。　They　rattled　and　jangled　as　we　deliberately　plucked　the
wire。
In　a　moment；　ragged…robed　twist　muscle　loomed　out　of　the　murdere