The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第15部分

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Maxilla　was　an　educated；　erudite　man　with　a　subtle　wit　and　a　taste　for　the　finest　things　in　life。　He　was　also　a　charming　host　and　a　good
companion　and　I　liked　him　immensely。　He　was　in　no　way　a　formal　part　of　my　staff。　But　he　was；　I　suppose；　after　all　this　time　and　all
those　shared　adventures；　a　vital　part。
The　year　before；　when　it　had　been　decided　that　Fischig　would　embark　on　this　long　chase　after　the　Cadian　leads；　I　had　asked　Maxilla　to
provide　him　with　transportation；　for　as　long　as　it　was　needed。　He　had　agreed　at　once；　and　not　because　of　the　generous　fee　I　was
offering。　To　him；　it　sounded　like　a　true　adventure。　Besides；　it　promised　a　chance　to　give　the　old　Essene　a　proper　long　run　out；　beyond
its　normal　route　of　the　Helican　stars。
A　genuine　voyage。　An　odyssey。　That　was　what　Tobias　Maxilla　lived　for。
HE　WAS　WAITING　in　the　cargo　hold　to　greet　us　even　before　the　extractor　vents　had　finished　dumping　out　the　cutter's　thruster　fumes。　He
had　dressed　for　the　occasion；　as　was　his　way：　a　blue　velvet　balmacaan　with　huge　sleeves　and　a　jabot　collar；　a　peascod　doublet　of
japanagar　silk；　patent　leather　sabattons　with　gold　buckles；　and　a　stupendous　fantail　hat　perched　on　his　powdered　periwig。　His　face　was
skin…dyed　white　and　set　with　an　emerald　beauty　spot。　His　cologne　was　stronger　than　the　thruster　fumes。
'My　dear；　dear　Gregor！'　he　cried；　striding　forward　and　taking　my　proffered　hands　with　both　of　his。　'A　signal　joy　to　have　you　back
aboard　our　humble　craft。'
'Tobias。　A　pleasure；　as　always。'
'And　dear　Alizebeth！　Looking　younger　and　more　fragrant　than　ever！'　He　clasped　her　hand　and　kissed　her　cheek。
'Steady　now；　you'll　smudge…　your　make　up。'
'Wise　Aemos！　Welcome；　savant！'
Aemos　just　chuckled　as　his　hand　was　shaken。　I　don't　think　he　ever　kneake　of　Maxilla。
'MrNayl！'
'Maxilla。'
'And　Medea！　Ravishing！　Quite　ravishing！'

'You　certainly　are；'　Medea　said　playfully；　allowing　one　of　her　circuit…inlaid　hands　to　be　kissed。
'You　knew　we　were　coming；　Maxilla。　You　might　have　smartened　up　a　bit；'　said　Fischig。　Amid　laughter；　they　shook　hands。　I　realised
their　relationship　had　changed。　They　had　been　together　for　a　year　on　this　mission。　Fischig　had　never　really　connected　with　Maxilla：
their　backgrounds　and　lives　were　too　divergent。　But　clearly；　a　year　in　each　other's　company　had　brokered　a　true　friendship　at　last。
That　pleased　me　too。　An　inquisitor's　band　works　better　when　it　is　close　knit。
Maxilla　turned　to　Husmaan　and　Inshabel。
'You　two　I　don't　know。　But　I　will；　as　that's　what　dinners　are　for。　Welcome　to　the　Essene！'
MAXILLA'S　SCULPTURAL　GOLD　servitors；　each　one　a　work　of　art；　had　prepared　a　late　supper　for　us　in　the　grand　dining　lounge。　A　pate
zephir　of　crab；　fresh　from　the　Caducades　that　morning；　ontol　flowers　poivrade　in　their　husks；　fillets　of　Cadian　boar　hongroise；
followed　by　an　ebonfruit　talmouse　with　cream　and　Intian　syrup。　The　gilded　sommelier　served　petillant　Samatan　rose；　heavy…bodied
Cadian　claret；　a　sweet　and　sticky　Tokay　from　a　lowland　dos　on　Hydraphur；　and　stinging　shots　of　Mordian　schnapps。
Our　humours　were　good；　and　the　impromptu　supper　gave　us　time　to　step　back　from　the　work　at　hand　and　relax。　None　of　us　spoke　of
the　case；　or　the　demands　that　it　was　likely　to　make　of　us。　To　rest　the　mind　often　clears　it。
I　was　going　to　need　clarity　now。
WE　RETURNED　TO　Kasr　Derth　the　next　morning　in　the　gun…cutter。　The　steel　dawn　over　the　wide　island　group　of　the　Caducades　was　cut
by　the　rising　edge　of　a　burning；　red　sun。　As　we　swept　in　over　the　craggy　mainland；　the　peaks　and　edges　of　the　moors　were　caught　with
a　pink　alpenglow。
Despite　the　fact　that　we　were　broadcasting　the　correct　clearances；　we　were　challenged　six　times　in　the　half…hour　descent。　At　one　point；
a　pair　of　Cadian　Marauders　rolled　in　and　flanked　us　as　they　checked　us　over。
Military　security　dominated　the　Cadian　way　of　life。　Every　non…military　transport；　shuttle　and　starship　was　placed　under　acute
observation；　especially　those　that　behaved　suspiciously　or　wandered　from　the　authorised　flight　routes。　Aemos　told　me　that　a　pinnace
carrying　the　Deacon　of　Arnush；　visiting　Cadia　for　a　promulgation　seminar；　had　been　shot　down　over　the　Sea　of　Kansk　six　months
earlier；　simply　because　it　failed　to　give　the　correct　codes。　It　made　me　wonder　how　our　unknown　foe　had　got　his　minions　on　and　off
Cadia。
Unless；　like　us；　he　had　an　identity　and　a　rank　that　easily　turned　aside　routine　security　checks。
WE　WERE　DIVERTED　sixty　kilometres　west　of　Kasr　Derth　because　a　war　was　going　on。　The　dawn　light　was　filled　with　the　flashes　and
light　streaks　of　a　mass　rocket　attack。
Eight　regiments　of　Cadian　Shock；　just　a　few　days　away　from　shipping　out　to　a　tour　of　duty　on　one　of　the　inner　fortress　worlds　of　the
Cadian　Gate；　were　staging　a　live　firing　exercise。
We　finally　set　down　on　the　minster's　launch　pad　over　an　hour　late。　The　war…bells　in　every　tower　and　shatrovy　in　the　Kasr　were　ringing
to　signal　that　the　roar　of　battle　from　the　nearby　plains　and　moors　was　just　a　practice。
We　divided　our　efforts。　Fischig　took　Aemos　to　the　Minster's　archivum　to　study　the　records　we　had　ordered　copied　the　night　before　and
do　further　research。　Bequin；　escorted　by　Husmaan；　went　to　search　the　stacks　of　the　Ecclesiarchy's　records　in　the　apostolaeum。　Inshabel
and　Nayl　visited　the　Administratum's　catalogue　of　records。
I　went　with　Medea　to　the　Ministry　of　Interior　Defence。
THERE　ARE　NO　arbites　on　Cadia。　A　permanent　state　of　martial　law　governs　the　world；　and　as　a　result；　all　civil　policing　duties　are
overseen　by　the　Interior　Guard；　a　sub…office　of　the　Cadian　Imperial　Guard　itself。　In　Kasr　Derth；　the　region's　administrative　capital；
their　headquarters　is　the　Ministry　of　Interior　Defence；　a　grey…stone　donjon　adjoining　the　fortress　of　the　martial　governor；　right　at　the
heart　of　Kasr　Derth。
Members　of　the　Interior　Guard　are　chosen　at　random。　Worldwide；　one　in　every　ten　soldiers　recruited　into　the　Cadian　forces　is
transferred　into　the　Interior　force　at　the　end　of　basic　and　preparatory；　whatever　their　achievements　and　promise。　As　a　result；　some　of
the　most　able　troopers　ever　raised　on　this　planet　of　warriors　serve　out　their　time　on　the　home　world　itself；　and　Cadia　boasts　one　of　the
most　effective　and　skilled　planetary　defence　forces　of　any　Imperial　world。
We　were　seen　by　a　Colonel　Ibbet；　a　powerful；　lean　man　in　his　forties　who　looked　like　he　should　have　been　leading　the　charge　into　the
Eye　of　Terror：　He　was　courteous；　but　mistrustful。
'We　have　no　files　on　illegal　or　suspect　immigration。'
'Why　is　that；　colonel？'
'Because　it　doesn't　happen。　The　system　does　not　permit　it。'
'Surely　there　are　unfortunate　exceptions？'
Ibbet；　his　grey　and　white　camoed　uniformed　starched　and　pressed　so　sharply　you　could　have　cut　yourself　on　the　creases；　steepled　his
fingers。
'All　right；　then；'　I　said；　changing　tack。　'What　if　someone　wanted　to　get　onto　the　planet　anonymously？　How　could　that　be　managed？'
'It　couldn't；'　he　said。　He　wasn't　giving　at　all。　'Every　identity　and　visit…purpose　is　logged　and　filed　and　any　infractions　quickly　dealt
with。'
'Then　I'll　start　with　the　files　annotating　those　infractions。'

RESIGNEDLY；　IBBET　SHOWED　us　into　a　codifier　room　and　assigned　us　a　military　clerk　to　take　us　through　the　records。　We　sorted　and
checked　for　about　three　hours；　slowly　becoming　bored　with　the　interminable　lists　of　orbital　boardings；　air…space　interceptions　and
ground…based　raids。　I　could　tell　that　a　thorough　review　of　these　records　alone　was　going　to　take　weeks。
SO　THAT'S　WHAT　we　did。　We　spent　ten　and　a　half　weeks　scouring　the　archives　and　catalogues　of　Kasr　Derth；　working　in　shifts　and
living　out　of　the　quarters　on　the　gun…cutter。　Every　few　days；　we　returned　to　the　Essene　for　a　little　rest　and　reflection。　It　was　the　dead　of
winter　by　the　time　we　were　finished。
FOURTEEN
WINTER　BRINGS　A　CHANCE。
THE　DAMNED　HAS　A　NAME。
THE　PYLON　AT　KASR　GESH。
WINTERTIDE　ON　CADIA。
There　had　been　glinting　ice…floes　in　the　gun…metal　waters　of　the　Caducades　that　morning；　and　light　snow　had　fallen　on　the　moors。　At
that　time　of　year；　the　foul　corona　of　the　Eye　of　Terror　was　visible　even　during　the　fleeting　hours　of　daylight。　The　unholy　mauve
radiance　of　the　nights　became　a　violet　fuzz　in　the　cold　daylight；　like　a　badly…blotted　ink　stain　on　white　paper。
It　made　us　feel　like　we　were　under　surveillance　all　the　time。　The　Eye；　bloodshot；　angry；　peering　down　at　us。
Worst　of　all　were　the　moor　winds；　cold　and　sharp　as　a　Cadian's　bayonet；　blowing　down　from　arctic　latitudes。　The　high　lakes　were　all
frozen　now；　and　lethal　pogonip　fogs　haunted　the　bitter　heaths　and　uplands。　In　the　Kasr　itself；　it　seemed　like　the　locals　had　a　morbid
fear　of　heaters　or　window　insulation。
Chilly　gales　breathed　down　the　hallways　of　the　minster　and　the　Admin…istratum　building。　Water　froze　in　the　pipes。
Despite　it　all；　the　war…bells　sounded　every　few　days；　and　the　moors　rolled　with　the　sounds　of　winter　manoeuvres。　I　began　to　imagine
that　the　Cadians　were　simply　shooting　at　each　other　to　keep　warm。
Ten　and　a　half　long；　increasingly　cold　weeks　after　we　had　begun　our　systematic　search　of　the　Kasr's　records；　I　was　making　my　now
habitual　morning　walk　from　the　minster　of　the　Inquisition　to　the　headquarters　of　the　Interior　Guard。　I　wore　a　thick　fur　coat　against　the
cold；　and　spike…soled　boots　to　combat　the　sheet　ice　on　the　roads。　I　was　miserable。　The　search　had　left　us　all　pale　and　edgy；　too　many
fruitless　hours　spent　in　dark　rooms。
There　had　been　so　many　promising　leads。　Links　and　traces　of　the　Sons　of　Bael；　unauthorised　starship　traffic；　suspicious　excise　logs。
They　had　all　dwindled　away　into　nothing。　As　far　as　we　could　make　out；　no　living　member　of　the　Sons　of　Bael；　or　any　living　associate
or　family　member；　remained。　There　had　been　no　pylon…related　cult　activity；　not　even　registered　xeno…archaeological　work。　I　had
interviewed　specialist　professors　at　the　universitary；　and　certain　tech…priests　from　the　Mechanicus　who　were　shown　in　the　records　as
having　expert　knowledge　of　the　pylons。
Nothing。
With　Inshabel；　Nayl　or　Fischig；　I　had　travelled　the　region；　as　far　afield　as　Kasr　Tyrok　and　Kasr　Bellan。　A　worker　in　the　gunshops　of
Kasr　Bellan；　who　had　been　identified　as　a　Bael　cult　member；　turned　out　to　simply　have　the　same　name；　misfiled。　A　wasted　ten　hour
round　trip　by　speeder。
Aemos　had　constructed　a　codifier　model　by　which　we　checked　record　anomalies　against　the　timetable　of　past　cult　activity。
There　seemed　to　be　no　correlation　at　all。
I　WALKED　UP　the　steps　of　the　Ministry　of　Interior　Defence；　and　submitted　myself　to　the　clearance　check　in　the　postern　guardhouse。　It
should　have　been　a　formality。　I　had　been　arriving　at　the　same　time　almost　every　day　for　the　last　seventy…five。　I　even　recognised　some
of　the　guardsmen　by　sight。
But　still；　it　was　like　the　first　time　I　had　ever　been　there。　Papers　were　not　only　stamped；　but　read　thoroughly　and　ran　through　an　anticounterfeit
auspex。　My　rosette　was　scrutinised　and　tagged。　The　duty　officer　voxed　my　details　through　to　the　main　building　to　get
authorisation。
'Doesn't　this　ever　bore　you？'　I　asked　one　of　the　desk　officers　as　I　waited；　folding　my　papers　back　into　my　leather　wallet。
'Doesn't　what　bore　me；　sir？'　he　asked。
I　HADN'T　SEEN　Ibbet　since　the　first　week。　I'd　been　rotated　between　a　number　of　supervisors。　One　told　me　it　was　because　of　shift
changes；　but　I　knew　it　was　because　none　of　them　liked　to　deal　with　an　inquisitor。　Especially　a　persistent　one。
That　morning；　it　was　Major　Revll　who　escorted　me　in。　Revll；　a　surly　young　man；　was　new　to　me。
'How　can　I　assist　you；　sir？'　he　asked　curtly。
I　sighed。
Open　log　books　and　data…slates　were　piled　around　the　workstation　where　I　had　abandoned　them　the　night　before。　Revll　was　already
calling　for　a　clerk　to　tidy　them　away　and　make　space　for　me　before　I　could　explain　that　I'd　made　the　mess　in　the　first　place。

He　looked　at　me　warily。　'You've　been　here　before？'　I　sighed　again。
I　HAD　TWO　HOURS。　At　eleven；　I　was　due　to　meet　Inshabel　and　Bequin　and　fly　out　to　a　village　on　one　of　the　islands　in　the　Caducades　to
investigate　a　rumour　that　a　man　there　knew　something　about　smuggling。　Another　waste　of　time；　I　was　sure。
I　started　in　on　the　air…traffic　day…book；　reading　through　the　lists　of　orbital　transfers　for　a　summer　day　two　years　earlier。　Halfway　down
the　slate　was　an　entry　showing　a　shuttle　transfer　from　an　orbiting　ship　to　a　landing　field　near　Kasr　Gesh。　Gesh　was　near　to　one　of　the
pylons　frequented　by　the　Sons　of　Bael。　Moreover；　on　checking；　I　realised　the　date　put　it　three　days　before　the　last　incident　of　cult
activity　at　the　pylon。
I　stoked　up　the　data…engine；　and　requested　further　information　on　the　entry。　I　was　immediately　denied。　I　used　a　higher　decrypt　key；　and
was　shown　a　report　that　withheld　both　the　name　of　the　ship　and　the　source　of　its　authority。　I　began　to　get　excited；　and　scrolled　down。
Even　the　purpose　of　the　visit　was　restricted。
Now　I　typed　in　the　teeth　of　my　highest　decrypt　key。　The　terminal　throbbed　and　chattered；　sorting　through　files　and　authorisations。
The　name　came　up。　My　elation　peaked；　and　plunged　away。
Neve。　The　mysterious　entry　had　been　a　record　of　a　classified　mission　by　the　inquisitor　general。　Back　to　square　one。
THE　ISLAND　WAS　cold　and　bare。　A　small　fishing　community　clung　to　the　rim　of　the　western　bay。　Inshabel　swung　the　speeder　down
onto　the　cobbled　tideway　where　spread　nets　had　gone　stiff　with　ice。
'How　much　longer；　Gregor？'　Bequin　asked　me；　winding　her　scarf　around　her　throat。
'How　much　longer　what？'
'Until　we　give　up　and　leave？　I'm　so　sick　of　this　fate…forsaken　world。'
I　shrugged。　'Another　week。　Until　Candlemas。　If　we　haven't　found　anything　by　then；　I　promise　we'll　say　goodbye　to　Cadia。'
THE　THREE　OF　US　trudged　up　the　icy　walk　to　a　grim　tavern　overlooking　the　sea　wall。　Anchor　fish；　as　tall　as　men；　were　hung　outside；
salted　and　drying　in　the　winter　air。
The　barman　didn't　want　to　know　us；　but　his　steward　brought　us　drinks　and　led　us　through　to　a　back　parlour。　He　admitted　that　he　had
sent　the　message　about　the　smuggler。　The　smuggler　was　here　to　meet　us；　he　said。
We　entered　the　back　parlour。　A　man　sat　by　the　roaring　grate；　warming　his　jewelled　fingers　at　its　flames。　I　smelled　cologne。
'Good　morning；　Gregor；'　said　Tobias　Maxilla。
Despite　the　shouting　coming　from　the　back　parlour；　the　steward　brought　us　herb　omelettes　and　bowls　of　steaming　zar…fin　broth；　along
with　a　bottle　of　fortified　wine。
'Are　you　going　to　explain？'　asked　Inshabel　tersely。
'Of　course；　dear　Nathun；　of　course；'　Maxilla　replied；　pouring　a　careful　measure　of　wine　into　each　glass。
'Be　patient。'
'Now；　Tobias！'　I　snapped。
'Oh；'　he　said；　seeing　my　look。　He　sat　back。　'I　confess　I　have　become　despondent　these　last　few　weeks。　You've　been　so　busy　and　I've
just　been　waiting　up　there　on　the　Essene…　well；　anyway；　you've　said　a　number　of　times　that　the　answer　you're　searching　for　depended
on　one　key　thing。　It　depended　on　you　establishing　a　way　of　getting　past　this　dire　planet's　obsessively　tight　security。　Anonymously。
And　I　said　to　myself…　〃Tobias；　that's　what　you　do；　even　though　Gregor　doesn't　like　to　think　about　it。　Smuggling；　Tobias；　is　your
forte。〃　So　I　decided　to　see　if　I　could　smuggle　myself　down　here。　And　guess　what？'
He　sat　back；　sipping　his　glass；　looking　disgustingly　pleased　with　himself。
'You　smuggled　yourself　onto　the　planet　to　prove　it　could　be　done？'　asked　Bequin　slowly。
He　nodded。　'My　shuttle's　hidden　in　the　spinneys　behind　the　village。　It's　amazing　how　many　zipped　mouths　and　blind　eyes　you　can　buy
with　a　purse　of　hard　cash　round　here。'
'I　don't　know　what　to　say；'　I　said。
He　made　an　open…handed　gesture。　'You　told　me　weeks　ago　that　the　Interior　Guard　recognised　no　illegal　or　suspect　immigration。　Well；
I'm　here　today　…　literally　…　to　prove　that　claim　wrong。　Cadia's　a　tough　nut　to　crack；　I'll　admit。　One　of　the　toughest　I've　faced　in　a　long
and　naughty　career。　But　not　impossible；　as　you　see。'
I　sank　my　wine　in　a　single　gulp。　'I　should　sever　my　links　with　you　for　this；　Tobias。　You　know　that。'
'Oh；　pooh；　Gregor！　Because　I've　shown　up　the　Cadian　Interior　Guard　as　a　bunch　of　fools？'
'Because　you've　broken　the　law！'
'Ah　ah　ah！　No；　I　haven't。　Bent　it；　possibly；　but　not　broken　it。　My　presence　here　is　entirely　legal；　under　both　Cadian　local　and　Imperial
general　law。'
'What？'
'Come　on；　my　old　friend！　Why　do　you　think　my　shuttle　wasn't　blasted　out　of　the　heavens　this　morning　by　eager　Cadian　lightning
jockeys？　That　was　a　rhetorical　question　by　the　way。　Answer…　because　when　the　interceptors　came　scrambling　up　to　meet　me；　I
broadcast　the　right　security　clearance；　and　that　contented　them。'
'But　the　day　codes　are　privileged！　The　counter…checks　are　triple！　They　are　issued　only　to　those　with　appropriately　high　credentials。
What　authority　could　you　possibly　have　used　to　get　them？'
'Well；　Gregor…　yours；　of　course。'

IT　HAD　BEEN　staring　me　in　the　face；　and　it　took　the　grandstanding　flamboyance　of　Maxilla；　in　his　very　worst　showing…off　mode；　to
reveal　it。　The　reason　the　Interior　Guard　had　no　file　on　illegal　or　suspect　immigration　was　because　there　was　nothing　of　that　nature　to
file。　Those　that　tried　to　run　the　strict　gauntlet　of　Cadian　security　and　failed；　died。　The　ones　that　got　through　were　never　noticed。
Because　they　were　using　high…level　security　clearances；　masquerading　as　the　sort　of　official　visitor　who　would　not　be　stopped。
People　like　me。　People　like　Neve。
'I　NEVER　MADE　this　trip；'　Neve　said；　staring　steadily　at　the　data…slate　I　was　showing　her。　'Or　this。'
'Of　course　not。　But　someone　borrowed　your　authority　code。　Used　it　to　gain　trans…orbital　access。　That's　how　they　were　getting　in。　Look
here；　your　code　again；　and　again。　And　before　that；　the　code　headers　of　your　predecessor；　Gonfal。　It　goes　back　forty　years。　Each　and
every　flurry　of　activity　from　the　Sons　of　Bael…　and　other　cults…　can　be　matched　by　space…to…surface　transfers　cleared　as　genuine
Inquisition　flights。'
'Emperor　protect　me！'　Neve　looked　up。　She　put　down　the　data…slate　and　called　hoarsely　for　a　servitor　to　bring　more　lights　into　her
octastyle　sanctum。
'But　my　authority　code　is　protected。　How　was　it　stolen？　Eisenhorn；　yours　was　used　to　prove　this。　How　was　that　stolen？'
I　paused。　'It　wasn't；　not　exactly。　One　of　my　associates　borrowed　it　to　prove　the　point。'
'Why　doesn't　that　surprise　me？　Oh；　no　matter！　Eisenhorn；　there's　a　great　deal　of　difference　between　you　and　me。　You　may　have　rogue
elements　in　your　band　who　act　behind　your　back　in　unorthodox；　unilateral　ways。　I　do　not。　My　code　could　not　have　been　abused　so。'
'I　accept　your　point；　but　it　could。　Who　has　access　to　your　code？'
'No　one！　No　one　below　me！'
'But　above　you？'
'What？'
'I　said　this　could　be　one　of　ours。　A　senior　inquisitor；　a　grandmaster　even。　Certainly　a　wily　veteran　with　enough　clout　to　pull　the　right
strings。'
That　would　require　a　direct　override　at　the　highest　levels。
'Exactly。　Let's　look。'
IN　THE　END；　that　was　my　adversary's　downfall。　All　the　blood　and　fury　and　combat　we　had　gone　through　was　as　nothing　to　this　prosaic
clue　that　revealed　his　identity。　To　steal　Neve's　authority　code；　and　the　authority　codes　of　her　predecessors；　my　adversary　had　been
forced　to　use　the　clout　of　his　own　identity　get　into　the　files。
The　record　of　that　operation　was　encrypted；　of　course。　Sitting　side　by　side　at　the　codifier　in　her　sanctum's　annex；　Neve　and　I　quickly
found　it。　It　wasn't　even　hidden。　He　never　thought　anyone　woul