The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第3部分

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Tantalid；　fleeing　Kuuma　to　lick　his　wounds；　had　tried　to　have　me　declared　heretic；　but　the　charges　were　swiftly　overturned。　The
Ministorum　had；　at　that　time；　no　wish　to　court　conflict　with　their　allies　in　the　Inquisition。
I　had　expected；　known　even；　that　Tantalid　would　return　sometime　to　plague　me。　It　was　a　personal　matter　now；　one　which　his　fanatical
disposition　would　fix　upon　and　transform　into　a　holy　calling。
But　the　last　I　had　heard；　he　had　been　leading　an　ecclesiarchy　mission　into　the　Ophidian　subsector　in　support　of　the　century…long　Purge
Campaign　there。
I　wondered　what　had　brought　him　to　Lethe　Eleven　at　so　inopportune　a　moment。
BY　THE　TIME　I　was　back　on　my　feet；　two　weeks　later；　the　Darknight　was　over　and　I　knew　the　answer；　in　general　if　not　specific　terms。
I　was　hobbling　around　on　a　cane　in　the　private　mansion　I　had　rented　in　Lethe　Majeure　when　Aemos　brought　me　the　news。　The　great
Ophidian　Campaign　was　over。
'Great　success；'　he　announced。　'The　last　action　took　place　at　Dolsene　four　months　ago；　and　the　Warmaster　has　declared　the　subsector
cleansed。　A　famous　victory；　don't　you　think？'
'Yes。　I　should　hope　so。　It's　taken　them　long　enough。'
'Gregor；　Gregor…　even　with　a　force　as　large　as　the　hallowed　Battlefleet　Scarus；　the　subjugation　of　a　subsector　is　an　immense　task！
That　it　took　the　best　part　of　a　century　is　nothing！　The　pacification　of　the　Extempus　subsector　took　four　hundred　y—'
He　paused。
'You're　toying　with　me；　aren't　you？'
I　nodded。　He　was　very　easy　to　wind　up。
Aemos　shook　his　head　and　eased　his　ancient　body　down　into　one　of　the　leather　chairs。
'Martial　law　still　dominates；　I　understand；　and　caretaker　governments　have　been　established　on　the　key　worlds。　But　the　Warmaster
himself　is　returning　with　the　bulk　of　the　fleet　in　triumph；　setting　foot　in　this　subsector　again　for　the　first　time　in　a　hundred　years。'
I　stood　by　the　open　windows；　looking　out　from　the　mansion's　first　floor　across　the　grey　roofs　of　Lethe　Majeure　which　seemed　to　coat
the　hills　of　the　Tito　Basin　like　the　scaled　hide　of　some　prehistoric　reptile。　The　sky　was　a　magnolia　haze；　and　a　light　breeze　breathed。　It
was　almost　impossible　now　to　picture　this　place　beset　by　the　filthy；　permanent　shadows　of　the　Darknight。
Now；　perhaps；　I　knew　why　Tantalid　had　returned。　The　Ophidian　war　was　over；　and　his　holy　mission　concluded　with　it。
'I　remember　them　setting　out；　don't　you？'　I　asked。
A　foolish　question。　My　savant　was　a　data…addict；　driven　since　the　age　of　forty…two　standard　to　collect　and　retain　all　manner　of
information　thanks　to　a　meme…virus　he　had　contracted。　There　was　no　possibility　of　him　forgetting　anything。　He　scratched　the　side　of
his　hooked　nose　where　his　heavy　augmetic　eye…pieces　touched。
'How　could　either　of　us　forget　that？'　he　replied。　'The　summer　of　240。　Hunting　the　Glaw　clan　on　Gudrun　during　the　very　Founding
itself。'
Indeed；　we　had　played　a　particular　role　in　delaying　the　start　of　the　Ophidian　Campaign。　The　Warmaster；　or　lord　militant　as　he　had　been
back　then；　had　been　all　but　set　to　launch　his　purge　into　Ophidian　space　when　my　investigation　of　the　heretic　Glaw　family　had　triggered
a　mass　uprising　later　known　as　the　Helican　Schism。　To　his　great　surprise　and　displeasure；　the　Warmaster　had　been　abruptly　forced　to
redirect　his　readied　forces　in　a　pacification　of　his　very　own　subsector。
Warmaster　Honorius。　Honorius　Magnus　they　were　calling　him。　I　had　never　met　him；　nor　had　I　much　wish　to。　A　brutal　man；　as　are　so
many　of　his　kind。　It　takes　a　special　mindset；　a　special　brutality；　to　crush　planets　and　populations。
'There　is　to　be　a　great　Jubilation　on　Thracian　Primaris；'　Aemos　said。　'A　Holy　Novena　congregated　by　the　Synod　the　High　Ecclesiarchy。
It　is　rumoured　that　the　Imperial　Lord　Commander　Helican　himself　will　attend；　specifically　to　bestow　upon　the　Warmaster　the　rank　of
Feudal　Protector。'
'I'm　sure　he'll　be　very　pleased。　Another　heavy　medallion　to　throw　at　his　officers　when　he's　annoyed。'
'You're　not　tempted　to　attend？'
I　laughed。　In　truth；　I　had　thought　to　return　to　the　Helican　subsector　capital　before　long。　Thracian　Primaris；　the　most　massive；
industrialised　and　populated　world　in　the　subsector；　had　wrested　capital　planet　status　from　ancient　Gudrun　after　the　disgrace　and
foment　of　the　Schism；　finally　achieving　the　preeminence　it　felt　its　size　and　power　had　long　deserved。　It　was　now　the　chief　Imperial
planet　of　this　region。

There　was　work　to　be　done；　reports　to　be　filed　and　presented；　and　those　things　could　best　be　achieved　by　returning　to　my　property　on
Thracian；　my　base　of　operations；　near　to　the　Palace　of　the　Inquisition。　But　I　had　little　love　for　Thracian　Primaris。　It　was　an　ugly　place；
and　I　only　made　my　headquarters　there　out　of　convenience。　The　thought　of　pomp　and　ceremony　and　festivals　filled　me　with　quiet
dread。
Perhaps　I　would　go　to　Messina　instead；　or　to　the　quiet　of　Gudrun；　where　I　maintained　a　small；　comfortable　estate。
'The　Inquisition　is　to　attend　in　great　strength。　Lord　Rorken　himself…'
I　waved　a　hand　in　Aemos's　direction。　'Does　it　appeal　to　you？'
'No。'
'Are　there　not　better　uses　for　our　time？　Pressing　matters？　Things　that　would　be　more　easily　achieved　away　from　such　overblown
distractions？'
'Most　certainly；'　he　said。
'Then　I　think　you　know　my　mind。'
'I　think　I　do；　Gregor；'　he　said；　rising　to　his　feet　and　reaching　into　the　pocket　of　his　green　robe。　'And　therefore　I'm　fully　prepared　for　the
fact　that　you're　going　to　curse　me　when　I　give　you　this。'
He　held　out　a　small　data…slate；　an　encrypted　message…tile　whose　contents　had　been　received　and　stored　by　the　astropaths。
The　official　seal　of　the　Inquisition　was　stamped　across　its　front。
THREE
CAPITAL　WORLD。
THE　OCEAN　HOUSE。
INTRUDERS；　PAST　AND　PRESENT。
THRACIAN　PRIMARIS；　CAPITAL　world　of　the　Helican　subsector；　seat　of　government；　Helican　subsector；　Scams　sector；　Segmentum
Obscurus。　You　can　read　that　description　in　any　one　of　a　hundred　thousand　guidebooks；　geographies；　Imperial　histories；　pilgrimage
primers；　industrial　ledgers；　trade　directories；　star　maps。　It　sounds　impressive；　authoritarian；　powerful。
It　does　no　justice　at　all　to　the　monster　it　describes。
I　have　known　hellholes　and　death…planets　that　from　space　look　serene　and　wondrous：　the　watercolours　of　their　atmospheres；　the
glittering　moons　and　belts　they　wear　like　bangles　and　jewels；　the　natural　wonders　that　belie　the　dangers　they　contain。
Thracian　Primaris　is　no　such　dissembler。　From　space；　it　glowers　like　an　oozing；　cataracted　eye。　It　is　corpulent；　swollen；　sheened　in
grey　veils　of　atmospheric　soot　through　which　the　billion　billion　lights　of　the　city　hives　glimmer　like　rotting　stars。　It　glares　balefully　at
all　ships　that　approach。
And；　oh！　But　they　approach！　Shoals　of　ships；　flocks　of　them；　countless　craft；　drawn　to　this　bloated　cesspit　by　the　lure　of　its　vast
industrial　wealth　and　mercantile　vigour。
It　has　no　moons；　no　natural　moons　anyway。　Five　Ramilies…class　star…forts　hang　above　its　atmosphere；　their　crenellated　towers　and
buttressed　gun…stations　guarding　the　approaches　to　and　from　the　capital　world。　A　dedicated　guild　of　forty　thousand　skilled　pilots　exists
simply　to　guide　traffic　in　and　out　of　the　jostling；　crowded　high…anchor　reaches。　It　has　a　planetary　defence　force；　a　standing　army　of
eight　million　men。　It　has　a　population　of　twenty…two　billion；　plus　another　billion　temporary　residents　and　visitors。　Seven…tenths　of　its
surface　are　now　covered　by　hive　structures；　including　great　sections　of　the　world's　original　oceans。　City…sprawl　fdls　and　covers　the
seas；　and　the　waters　roll　in　darkness　far　beneath。
I　loathe　the　place。　I　loathe　the　lightless　streets；　the　noise；　the　press　of　bodies。　I　loathe　the　stink　of　its　re…circulated　air。　I　loathe　its
airborne　grease…filth　adhering　to　my　clothes　and　skin。
But　fate　and　duty　bring　me　back　there；　time　and　again。
The　encrypted　Inquisitorial　missive　had　been　quite　clear：　I；　and　a　great　number　of　my　peers；　was　summoned　to　Thracian　Primaris　to
attend　the　Holy　Novena；　and　wait　upon　the　pleasure　of　the　Lord　Grandmaster　Inquisitor　Ubertino　Orsini。　Orsini　was　the　most　senior
officer　of　the　Inquisition　in　the　entire　Helican　subsector；　a　status　that　made　him　equal　in　rank　and　power　to　any　cardinal　palatine。
I　was　not　about　to　decline。
THE　VOYAGE　FROM　Lethe　Eleven　took　a　month；　and　I　brought　my　entire　entourage　back　with　me。　We　arrived　just　four　days　shy　of　the
start　of　the　Novena。　As　a　tiny　pilot　boat　led　my　ship　in　to　anchor　through　the　massed　ranks　of　orbiting　starships；　I　saw　the　dark
formations　of　Battlefleet　Scarus；　suckling　at　a　starfort　as　if　they　were　its　young。　This　was　their　heroic　homecoming。　There　was　a　taste
of　victory　in　the　air。　An　Imperial　triumph　on　this　scale　was　something　to　be　savoured；　something　the　Ministorum　could　use　to　boost
the　morale　of　the　common　citizenry。
'YOUR　ITINERARY　HAS　been　prepared；'　said　Alain　von　Baigg；　a　junior　interrogator　who　served　as　my　secretary。　We　were　aboard　the
gun…cutter；　dropping　towards　the　planet。
'Oh；　by　whom？'

He　paused。　Von　Baigg　was　a　diffident　and　lustreless　young　man　who　I　doubted　would　ever　make　the　rank　of　inquisitor。　I'd　accepted
him　to　my　staff　in　the　hope　that　service　alongside　Ravenor　might　inspire　him。　It　had　not。
'I　would　have　presumed　that　the　preparation　of　my　itinerary　might　have　included　my　own　choices。'
Von　Baigg　stammered　something。　I　took　the　data…slate　he　was　holding。　The　list　of　appointments　was　not　his　handiwork；　I　saw。　It　was
an　official　document；　processed　by　the　Ministoram's　nunciature　in　collaboration　with　the　Office　of　the　Inquisition。　My　timetable　for　all
nine　days　of　the　Holy　Novena　was　filled　with　audiences；　acts　of　worship；　feasts；　presentation　ceremonies；　unveilings　and　Ministorum
rites。　All　nine　days；　plus　the　days　before　and　after。
I　was　here；　damn　it！　I　had　responded　to　the　summons。　I　would　not　allow　myself　to　be　subjected　to　this　round　of　junkets　too。　I　took　a
stylus　and　quickly　marked　the　events　I　was　prepared　to　attend：　the　formal　rites；　the　Inquisitorial　audience；　the　Grand　Bestowment。
'That's　it；'　I　said；　tossing　it　back　to　him。　'The　rest　I'm　skipping。'　Von　Baigg　looked　uncomfortable。　'You　are　expected　at　the　Post…
Apostolic　Conclave　immediately　on　arrival。'
'Immediately　on　arrival；'　I　told　him　sternly；　'I'm　going　home。'
HOME；　FOR　ME；　was　the　Ocean　House；　a　private　residence　I　leased　in　the　most　select　quarter　of　Hive　Seventy。　On　many　hive　worlds；
the　rich　and　privileged　dwell　in　districts　high　up　in　the　top…most　city　spires；　divorced　as　far　as　possible　from　the　dirt　and　crowding　of
the　mid　and　low…hab　levels。　But　no　matter　how　high　you　climbed　on　Thracian　Primaris；　there　was　nothing　to　find　but　smog　and
pollution。
Instead；　the　exclusive　habitats　were　on　the　underside　of　the　hive　portions　that　extended　out　over　and　into　the　hidden　seas。　There　was　at
least　a　tranquillity　here。
MEDEA　BETANCORE　PLEW　the　gun…cutter　down　through　the　traffic…thick　atmosphere；　threaded　her　way　between　the　tawdry　domes；
dingy　towers；　rusting　masts　and　crumbling　spires；　and　laced　into　the　seething　lanes　of　air　vehicles　entering　a　vast　feeder　tunnel　which
gave　access　to　the　hives'　arterial　transit　network。
Bars　of　blue…white　light　set　into　the　walls　of　the　huge　tunnel　strobed　by　the　ports。　In　under　an　hour　we　had　reached　a　great　transit　hub；
three　kilometres　down　in　the　city…crust；　where　she　set　the　cutter　down　on　a　massive　elevator　platform　that　sedately　lowered　us　and　a
dozen　other　craft　into　the　sub…levels　of　Hive　Seventy。　The　cutter　was　then　berthed　in　a　private　lifter…drome　and　we　transferred　to　a
tuberail　for　the　final　stretch　to　the　maritime　habitats。
I　was　already　weary　of　Thracian　Primaris　by　the　time　I　reached　the　Ocean　House。
BUILT　FROM　PLASMA…SEALED　grandiorite　and　an　adamite　frame；　the　Ocean　House　was　one　of　a　thousand　estates　built　along　the
submarine　wall　of　Hive　Seventy。　It　was　nine　kilometres　beneath　the　city　crust　and　another　two　below　sea　level。　A　small　palace　by　the
standards　of　most　common　Imperial　citizens；　it　was　large　enough　to　house　my　entire　retinue；　my　libraries；　armoury　and　training
facilities；　not　to　mention　a　private　chapel；　an　audience　hall　and　an　entire　annex　for　Bequin's　Distaff。　It　was　also　secure；　private　and
quiet。
Jarat；　my　housekeeper；　was　waiting　for　us　in　the　entrance　hall。　She　was　dressed；　as　ever；　in　a　pale　grey　gown…robe　and　a　black　lace　cap
draped　with　a　white　veil。　As　the　great　iron　hatch…doors　cycled　open；　and　I　breathed　the　cool；　purified　air　of　the　house；　she　clapped　her
plump　hands　and　sent　servitors　scurrying　forward　to　take　our　coats　and　assist　with　the　baggage　train。
I　stood　for　a　moment　on　the　nashemeek　rug　and　looked　around　at　the　austere　stone　walls　and　the　high　arched　roof。　There　were　no
paintings；　no　busts　or　statuary；　no　crossed　weapons　or　embroidered　tapestries；　only　an　Inquisitorial　crest　on　the　far　wall　over　the　stairs。
I　am　not　one　for　decoration　or　opulence。　I　require　simple　comfort　and　functionality。
The　others　bustled　around　me。　Bequin　and　Aemos　went　through　to　the　library。　Ravenor　and　von　Baigg　issued　careful　instructions　to
the　servitors　concerning　some　baggage　items。　Medea　disappeared　to　her　private　room。　The　others　in　my　retinue　melted　away　into　the
house。
Jarat　greeted　them　all；　and　then　came　to　me。
'Welcome；　sir；'　she　said。　'You　have　long　been　from　us。'
'Sixteen　months；　Jarat。'
'The　house　is　aired　and　ready。　We　made　preparations　as　soon　as　you　signalled　your　intentions。　We　were　saddened　to　hear　of　the
losses。'
'Anything　to　report？'
'Security　was　of　course　double…checked　prior　to　your　arrival。　There　are　a　number　of　messages。'
'I'll　review　them　shortly。'
'You　are　hungry；　no　doubt？'
She　was　right；　though　I　hadn't　realised　it。
'The　kitchen　is　preparing　dinner。　I　took　the　liberty　of　selecting　a　menu　that　I　believe　you　will　approve　of。'
'As　ever；　I　have　faith　in　your　choices；　Jarat。　I'd　like　to　dine　on　the　sea　terrace；　with　any　who　would　join　me。'
'I'll　see　to　it；　sir。　Welcome　home。'
I　BATHED；　PUT　on　a　robe　of　grey　wool；　and　sat　for　a　while　alone　in　my　private　chambers；　sipping　a　glass　of　amasec　and　looking
through　the　messages　and　communiques　by　the　soft　light　of　the　lamp。

There　were　many；　mostly　recent　postings　from　old　acquaintances　…　officials；　fellow　inquisitors；　soldiers　…　alerting　me　to　their　arrival　on
the　planet　and　conveying　respects。　Few　needed　more　than　a　form　reply　from　my　secretary。　To　some；　I　penned　courteous；　personal
responses；　expressing　the　hope　of　meeting　them　at　some　or　other　of　the　Novena's　many　events。
There　were　three　that　drew　my　particular　attention。　The　first　was　a　private；　coded　missive　from　Lord　Inquisitor　Phlebas　Alessandro
Rorken。　Rorken　was　the　head　of　Ordo　Xenos　in　the　Helican　subsector；　my　immediate　superior　and　part　of　the　triumvurate　of　senior
inquisitors　who　answered　directly　to　Grandmaster　Orsini。　Rorken　wanted　to　see　me　as　soon　as　I　was　back　on　Thracian。　I　responded
immediately　that　I　would　come　to　him　at　the　Palace　of　the　Inquisition　the　follow　morning。
The　second　was　from　my　old　friend　and　colleague；　Titus　Endor。　It　had　been　a　long　time　since　I　had　set　eyes　on　him。　His　message；
uncoded；　read：　'Gregor。　My　greetings　to　you。　Are　you　home？'
The　brevity　was　disarming。　I　sent　an　affirmative　response　that　was　similarly　brief。　Endor　clearly　did　not　want　to　converse　in　writing。　I
awaited　his　reponse。
The　third　was　also　uncoded；　or　at　least　lacked　electronic　encryption。　It　said；　in　Glossia：　'Scalpel　cuts　quickly；　eager　tongues　revealed。
At　Cadia；　by　terce。　Hound　wishes　Thorn。　Thorn　should　be　sharp。'
THE　SEA　TERRACE　was　probably　the　main　reason　I　had　leased　the　Ocean　House　in　the　first　place。　It　was　a　long；　ceramite…vaulted　hall
with　one　entire　wall　made　of　armoured　glass　looking　into　the　ocean。　The　industrialisation　of　Thracian　Primaris　had　killed　off　a　great
part　of　the　world's　sea…life；　but　at　these　depths；　hardy　survivors　such　as　luminous　deep　anglers　and　schools　of　incandescent　jellies
could　still　be　glimpsed　in　the　emerald　nocturnal　glow。　The　candlelit　room　was　washed　by　a　rippling　green　half…light。
Jarat's　servitors　had　set　the　long　table　for　nine　and　those　nine　were　already　taking　their　seats　and　chatting　over　preprandial　drinks　as　I
arrived。　Like　most　of　them；　I　had　dressed　informally；　putting　on　a　simple　black　suit。　The　kitchen　provided　steamed　fubi　dumplings　and
grilled　ketelfish；　followed　by　seared　haunches　of　rare；　gamey　orkunu；　and　then　pear　and　berry　tarts　with　a　cinnamon　jus。　A　sturdy
Gudranite　claret　and　sweet　dessert　wine　from　the　vineyards　of　Messina　complemented　the　food　perfectly。　I　had　forgotten　the　excellent
qualities　of　the　house　Jarat　ran　for　me；　so　far　away　from　the　hardship　of　missions　in　the　field。
Around　the　table　with　me　were　Aemos；　Bequin；　Ravenor；　von　Baigg；　my　rubricator　and　scribe　Aldemar　Psullus；　Jubal　Kircher；　the
head　of　household　security；　a　trusted　field　agent　called　Harlon　Nayl；　and　Thula　Surskova；　who　was　Bequin's　chief　aide　with　the
Distaff。　Medea　Betancore　had　chosen　not　to　join　us；　but　I　knew　the　intensity　of　the　piloting　chores　down　through　Thracian　airspace
had　undoubtedly　worn　her　out。
I　was　pleased　to　see　that　Ravenor　was　present。　His　injuries　were　healing；　the　physical　ones　at　least；　and　though　he　was　quiet　and　a　little
withdrawn；　I　felt　he　was　beginning　to　come　through　the　shock　of　Arianrhod's　death。
Surskova；　a　short；　ample　woman　in　her　forties；　was　quietly　briefing　Bequin　on　the　progress　of　the　newer　Distaff　initiates。　Aemos
chuntered　on　to　Psullus　and　Nayl　about　the　events　on　Lethe　Eleven　and　they　listened　intently。　Psullus；　enfeebled　and　prematurely　aged
by　a　wasting　disease；　never　left　the　Ocean　House　and　devoted　his　life　to　the　maintenance　and　preservation　of　my　extensive　private
libraries。　If　Aemos　hadn't　related　the　story　of　our　last　mission　to　him；　I　would　have　made　sure　I　did。　Such　tales　were　his　only
connection　to　the　active　process　of　our　business　and　he　loved　to　hear　them。　Nayl；　an　ex…bounty　hunter　from　Loki；　had　been　injured　on
a　mission　the　year　before　and　had　not　been　able　to　join　us　for　the　Lethe　endeavour。　He　too　lapped　up　Aemos's　account；　asking
occasional　questions。　I　could　tell　he　was　itching　to　get　back　to　work。
Von　Baigg　and　Kircher　chatted　idly　about　the　preparations　for　the　Novena　that　were　now　gripping　the　hives　of　Thracian；　and　the
security　consequences　they　brought。　Kircher　was　an　able　man；　ex…arbites；　and　dependable　if　a　little　unimaginative。　As　dessert　was
served；　the　discussion　broadened　across　the　table。
'They　say　the　Bestowment　will　be　the　making　of　the　Warmaster；'　Nayl　said；　his　loaded　spoon　poised　in　front　of　his　mouth。
'He's　made　already；　I'd　say；'　I　retorted。
'Nayl's　right；　Gregor。　I　heard　that　too；'　said　Ravenor。　'Feudal　Protector。　That's　as　good　as　Imperial　Lord　Commander　Helican　admitting
the　。'
'It's　a　sinecure。'
'Not　at　all。　It　makes　Honorius　the　favourite　to　become　warmaster…in…chief　in　the　Acrotara　theatre　now　that　Warmaster　Hiju　is　dead；　and
Hiju　was　being　groomed　for　a　place　on　the　Senatorum　Imperialis；　perhaps　even　to　sit　amongst　the　High　Lords　of　Terra。'
'Honorius　may　be　〃Magnus〃；　but　he's　not　High　Lord　material；'　I　ventured。
'After　this　he　might　be；'　said　Nayl。　'Lord　Commander　Helican　must　think　he　has　potential；　or　he　wouldn't　be　giving　him　such　an
almighty　hand　up。'
Politics　left　me　cold；　and　I　seldom　empathised　with　political　ambitions。　I　only　studied　the　subject　because　my　duties　ofte