The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第31部分

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On　the　top　of　the　harpsichord　was　a　framed　portrait；　a　hololith　of　Aen　Froigre；　smiling。
I　picked　it　up　and　studied　it。
'The　last　portrait　of　him；'　she　said。　'Taken　at　the　fete。　My　last　connection　with　him。'
'Where　did　he　die？'
'The　Folly；'　said　Lady　Froigre。　'He　died　in　the　Folly。'
THE　WOODS　WERE　damp　and　dark。　Boughs　creaked　in　the　late　afternoon　wind　and　odd　birdsong　thrilled　from　the　shadows。
The　Folly　was　a　stone　drum　capped　by　a　slate　needle。　Inside；　it　was　bare　and　terribly　musty。　Sand　doves　fluttered　up　in　the　roof　spaces。
Cobwebs　glazed　the　bare　windows。
'This　is　where　I　found　him；'　said　a　voice　from　behind　me。
I　turned。　Rinton　Froigre　stooped　in　under　the　doorframe。　He　was　a　well…made　boy　of　twenty…five；　with　his　mother's　lush　red　hair。　His
eyes　had　a　curious；　hooded　aspect。
'Rinton。'
'Sir；'　he　bowed　slightly。
'Was　he　dead　when　you　found　him？'
'No；　inquisitor。　He　was　laughing　and　talking。　He　liked　to　come　up　here。　He　loved　the　Folly。　I　came　up　to　thank　him　for　the　fete　that　he
had　thrown　in　my　honour。　We　were　talking　together　when　suddenly　he　went　into　convulsions。　Just　minutes　later；　before　I　could
summon　help；　he　was　dead。'
I　didn't　know　Rinton　Froigre　well；　though　his　service　record　was　very　respectable；　and　I　knew　his　father　had　been　proud　of　him。　Aen
had　never　mentioned　any　animosity　from　his　son；　but　in　any　noble　house　there　is　always　the　spectre　of　succession　to　consider。　Rinton
had　been　alone　with　his　father　at　the　time　of　death。　He　was　a　seasoned　soldier；　undoubtedly　no　stranger　to　the　act　of　killing。
I　kept　an　open　mind　…　literally。　Even　without　any　invasive　mental　probing；　it　is　possible　for　a　psionic　of　my　ability　to　sense　surface
thoughts。　There　was　no　flavour　of　deceit　about　Rinton's　person；　though　I　could　feel　carefully　contained　loss；　and　the　tingle　of
trepidation。　Small　wonder；　I　considered。　Uncommon　are　the　citizens　of　the　Imperium　who　do　not　register　anxiety　at　being　quizzed　by
an　inquisitor　of　the　Holy　Ordos。
There　was　no　point　pressing　him　now。　Rinton's　story　might　easily　be　put　to　the　test　with　an　auto…seance；　during　which　psychometric
techniques　would　simply　reveal　the　truth　of　his　father's　last　moments　to　me。
Rinton　walked　me　back　to　the　Hall；　and　left　me　to　my　ponderings　in　Aen's　study。　It　was　as　he　had　left　it；　I　was　told。
The　room　was　half…panelled　and　lined　for　the　most　part　with　glazed　shelves　of　neatly　bound　books　and　data…slates。　Discreet　glowglobes
hovered　around　the　edges　of　the　room　at　head…height；　set　to　a　low　luminosity；　and　a　selection　of　scroll…backed　couches　and
over…stuffed　chairs　were　arranged　in　front　of　the　high…throated　ceramic　fireplace　with　its　wood…burning　fusion　stove。
The　desk；　under　the　diamond…paned　west　windows；　was　a　wide　crescent　of　polished　duralloy　floated　a　metre　off　the　carpet　by　passive
suspensor　pods。　The　desk　was　clean　and　bare。
I　sat　at　it；　depressing　slightly　the　hydraulics　of　the　writing　chair　…　I　was　half　a　head　taller　than　Aen　Froigre。　I　studied　the　mirrorsmooth；
slightly　raked　surface　of　the　desk。　There　was　no　sign　of　any　control　panel；　but　a　gentle　wave　of　my　hand　across　it　woke　up
heat…sensitive　touch…plates　engraved　into　the　duralloy's　finish。　I　touched　a　few；　but　they　needed　Aen's　touch　…　probably　a　combination
of　palmprint　and　genekey　…　to　unlock　them。
That；　or　inquisition…grade　software。　I　unpinned　my　Inquisitorial　rosette；　which　I　had　been　wearing　on　the　sternum　of　a　my　black
leather　coat；　and　slid　open　the　signal　port。　Holding　it　low　over　the　desk；　I　force　fed　the　touch…plates　with　several　magenta…level
security　override　programs。　It　gave　up　the　fight　almost　at　once；　opening　systems　without　even　the　need　for　passwords。

Built　into　the　stylish　desk　…　an　item　of　furniture　that　had　clearly　cost　Aen　a　lot　of　money　…　was　a　fairly　powerful　cogitator；　a　vox…pict
uplink；　a　message　archive；　two　filing　archives；　and　a　master　control　for　the　simple；　limited　electronic　systems　built　into　the　Hall。
Separate　pages　of　each　file　and　message　could　be　displayed　as　a　facsimile　on　the　blotter　plate　and　a　touch　of　a　finger　turned　them　or
put　them　away。　Aen　had　destroyed　all　paper　records。
I　played　with　it　for　some　time；　but　the　most　interesting　thing　I　found　was　a　log　of　invoices　for　services　provided　at　the　fete；　and　a　list
of　the　invitations。　I　copied　both　into　my　own　data…slate。
Alizebeth　and　Gabon　arrived　while　I　was　busy　with　that。　Alizebeth　had　been　interviewing　the　household　staff；　and　Gabon　had　been
out；　walking　the　grounds。
'There　were　over　nine　hundred　guests　here；　sir；'　he　said；　'and　maybe　another　five　hundred　players；　musicians；　entertainers　and　carnival
folk。'
'Where　from？'
'Menizerre；　mostly；'　he　replied。　'Local　entertainers；　a　few　troubadours　and　some　street　tumblers　from　the　biweekly　textile　market。　The
biggest　individual　groups　were　Kalikin's　Company；　an　acclaimed　troupe　of　travelling　actors；　and　Sunsable's　Touring　Fair；　who
provided　the　games　and　rides　and　diversions。'
I　nodded。　Gabon　was　as　thorough　as　usual。　A　short；　spare　man　in　his　one　fifties　with　cropped　black　hair　and　a　bushy　moustache；　he
had　been　with　the　Dorsay　Arbites　for　about　seventy　years　before　retiring　into　private　service。　He　wore　a　simple；　refined　dark　blue　suit
that　had　been　ingeniously　tailored　to　hide　the　fact　that　he　was　wearing　a　handgun　in　a　shoulder　rig。
'What　about　you？'　I　asked　Alizebeth。　She　sat　down　on　one　of　the　couches。
'Nothing　scintillating。　The　staff　seem　genuinely　shocked　and　upset　at　the　death。　They　all　react　with　outrage　at　the　idea　your　friend
might　have　had　any　enemies。'
'It　seems　quite　clear　to　me　that　he　did　have　some；'　I　said。
Alizebeth　reached　into　the　folds　of　her　gown　and　fished　out　a　small；　hard　object。　She　tossed　it　across　onto　the　desk　top　and　it　landed
with　a　tap。
There　it　extended　four；　multi…jointed　limbs　and　scurried　across　onto　my　palm。
I　turned　the　wriggling　poison…snooper　over　and　pressed　the　recessed　stud　on　its　belly。　A　little　ball　of　hololithic　energy　coalesced　above
its　head…mounted　projector　and　I　read　it　as　slowly　scrolled　around　on　its　own　axis。
'Traces　of　Iho；　obscura　and　several　other　class　II　and　III　narcotics　in　the　garden　area　and　the　staff　quarters。　Penshel　seed　traces　found　in
the　stable　block。　More　lho；　as　well　as　listeria　and　e。　coli　in　small　amounts　in　the　kitchen　section…　hmmm…'
Alizebeth　shrugged。　'The　usual　mix　of　recreational　drugs　one　might　expect；　none　in　large　quantities；　and　the　kitchens's　as　hygienic　as
anywhere。　You'd　probably　get　the　same　sort　of　readings　from　Spaeton　House。'
'Probably。　Penshel　seeds；　they're　quite　unusual。'
'A　very　mild　stimulant；'　said　Gabon。　'I　didn't　know　anyone　still　used　that　stuff。　Time　was；　it　was　the　drug　of　choice　in　the　artists'
quarter　of　Dorsay；　back　when　I　was　on　the　force。　The　seeds　are　dried；　rolled　and　smoked　in　pipes。　A　little　bohemian；　an　old　man's
smoke。'
'Most　of　the　outdoor　traces　can　be　put　down　to　the　visiting　entertainers；'　I　mused；　'plus　a　little　off…duty　pleasure　from　the　staff　or　looseliving
guests。　What　about　the　stable　block？　Are　any　of　Froigre's　ostlers　penshel　smokers？'
Alizebeth　shook　her　head。　'They'd　cleared　large　parts　of　the　stable　area　to　provide　spaces　for　the　fair　stall…holders。'
I　put　the　snooper　down　on　the　desk　and　it　wriggled　back　and　forth　for　a　few　moments　until　it　got　enough　purchase　to　right　itself。　'So
nothing　untoward；　in　fact。　And　certainly　no　significant　toxins。'
'None　at　all；'　said　Alizebeth。
Damn。　Given　the　description　of　Aen's　death；　I　had　been　quite　sure　poison　was　the　key；　perhaps　some　assassin's　sophisticated　toxin　that
had　not　shown　up　on　the　initial　medicae　report。　But　Alizebeth's　snooper　was　high…grade　and　thorough。
'What　do　we　do　now？'　she　asked。
I　passed　her　my　data…slate。　'Send　the　contents　of　this　to　Aemos　by　direct　vox…link。　See　what　he　can　come　up　with。'
Uber　Aemos　was　my　ancient　and　trusted　savant。　If　anyone　could　see　a　pattern　or　make　a　connection；　it　was　him。
EVENING　FELL。　I　went　outside；　alone。　I　felt　annoyed　and　frustrated。　In　fact；　I　felt　thwarted。　I'd　come　there　as　a　favour　to　my　old　friend's
widow；　offering　my　services；　and　in　most　respects　I　perial　inquisitor；　and　this　was　most　likely　just　a　job
for　the　local　arbites。　I　had　expected　to　have　the　entire　matter　sewn　up　in　a　few　hours；　to　settle　things　swiftly　in　a　quick；　unofficial
investigation；　and　leave　with　the　thanks　of　the　family　for　sparing　them　a　long；　drawn…out　inquest。
But　the　clues　just　weren't　there。　There　was　no　motive；　no　obvious　antagonist；　no　aggressor；　but　still　it　seemed　likely　that　Aen　Froigre
had　been　killed。　I　looked　at　the　medicae　report　again；　hoping　to　find　something　that　would　establish　natural　causes。
Nothing。　Something；　someone；　had　taken　my　friend's　life；　but　I　couldn't　tell　what　or　who　or　why。
The　evening　skies　were　dark；　stained　a　deep　violet　and　smeared　with　chasing　milky　clouds。　An　early　moon　shone；　passing　behind　the
running　trails　of　cloud　every　minute　or　so。　A　wind　was　gathering；　and　the　stands　of　trees　beside　the　lawn　were　beginning　to　sway　and
swish。　The　leaves　made　a　cold　sound；　like　rain。
I　walked　over　to　my　flyer；　popped　the　cargo　trunk　and　took　out　Barbarisater。　I　slowly　freed　it　from　its　silk　bindings　and　drew　the　long；
gleaming　blade　from　its　machined　scabbard。　Barbarisater　had　been　an　heirloom　sword；　a　psychically…attuned　weapon　from　the　forges
of　distant　Carthae　and　slaved　to　the　minds　of　the　generations　of　warrior　women　who　had　wielded　it。　Enhancing　its　strength　with
pentagrammic　wards；　I　had　used　the　long　sabre　in　my　battle　against　the　heretic　Quixos；　during　which　struggle　it　had　been　broken

below　the　tip。　Master　swordsmiths　had　remade　the　blade　from　the　broken　main　portion；　creating　a　shorter；　straighter　blade　by　rounding
off　and　edging　the　break　and　reducing　the　hilt。　A　good　deal　smaller　than　its　old　self；　now　more　a　single…handed　rapier　than　a　hand…anda…
half　sabre；　it　was　still　a　potent　weapon。
Naked；　in　my　hand；　it　hummed　and　whined　as　my　mind　ran　mrough　it　and　made　it　resonate。　The　incised　wards　glowed　and　sobbed　out
faint　wisps　of　smoke。　I　walked　out　over　the　grass　under　the　seething　trees；　holding　the　blade　out　before　me　like　a　dowsing　rod；
sweeping　the　scene；　letting　the　blade…tip　slide　along　the　invisible　angles　of　space。　Twice；　on　my　circuit　of　the　lawns；　it　twitched　as　if
tugged　by　sprite　hands；　but　I　could　discern　nothing　from　the　locations。
But　mere　was　something　there。　My　first　hint　of　a　malign　focus。　My　first　hint　that　not　only　was　foul　play　involved；　but　that　Lady
Froigre　might　be　right。
Though　they　had　left　only　the　slightest　traces　behind　them；　infernal　powers　had　been　at　work　here。
ALIZEBETH　CAME　INTO　my　room　at　eight　the　next　morning。　She　woke　me　by　sitting　down　on　the　side　of　my　bed　and　handed　me　a　cup
of　hot；　black　caffeine　as　I　roused。
She　was　already　dressed　and　ready　for　work。　The　day　was　bright。　I　could　hear　the　household　coming　to　life：　pans　clattering　the　kitchen
block　and　the　butler　calling　to　his　pages　in　the　nearby　gallery。
'Bad　storm　in　the　night；'　she　said。　'Brought　trees　down。'
'Really？'　I　grumbled；　sitting　up　and　sipping　the　sweet；　dark　caffeine。
I　looked　at　her。　It　wasn't　like　Bequin　to　be　so　perky　this　early。
'Out　with　it；'　I　said。
She　handed　me　a　data…slate。　'Aemos　has　been　busy。　Must've　worked　all　night。'
'Through　the　storm。'
'There　was　no　storm　up　his　way。　It　was　local。'　I　didn't　really　hear　that　reply。　I　was　caught　up　in　a　close　reading　of　the　slate。
Failing　to　cross…match　just　about　every　detail　I　had　sent　him；　Aemos　had　clearly　become　bored。　The　list　of　guests　I　had　sent　him　had
led　to　nothing；　despite　his　best　efforts　to　make　connections。　The　caterers　and　performers　had　revealed　nothing　either。　No　links　to　the
underworld　or　cult　activity；　no　misdeeds　or　priors；　except　for　the　usual　clutch　of　innocent　and　minor　violations　one　might　expect。　One
of　the　travelling　actors　had　been　charged　with　affray　twenty　years　before；　and　another　had　done　time　for　grievous　wounding；　that　sort
of　thing。
The　only　item　that　had　flagged　any　sort　of　connection　was　the　description　of　Aen　Froigre's　death。　Aemos　had　only　turned　to　that　rather
vague　clue　once　he'd　exhausted　all　others。
In　the　past　twenty　months；　eleven　people　in　the　Drunner　Region　of　Gudrun；　which　is　to　say　the　coastal　area　encompassing　Menizerre；
Dorsay　and　Insume　all　the　way　to　Madua　chapeltown；　had　died　of　a　similar；　mystery　ailment。　Only　a　tight；　deliberate　search　like　the
one　Aemos　had　conducted　would　have　shown　up　such　a　connection；　given　the　scale　of　area　involved　and　the　size　of　population。　Listed
together；　the　deaths　stood　out　like　a　sore　thumb。
Here；　Aemos　had　come　into　his　own。　Another　clerk　might　have　sent　those　findings　to　me　and　waited　for　direction；　but　Aemos；　hungry
to　ansself；　had　pressed　on；　trying　to　make　a　pattern　out　of　them。　No　simple　task。　There　was　nothing　to　demographically
or　geographically　link　the　victims。　A　housewife　here；　a　millkeeper　there；　a　landowner　in　one　small　village；　a　community
doctor　in　another；　seventy　kilometres　away。
The　only　thing　they　had　in　common　was　the　sudden；　violent　and　inexplicable　nature　of　their　demises：　seizures；　abrupt；　fatal。
I　set　down　my　cup　and　scrolled　on；　aware　that　Alizebeth　was　grinning　at　me。
'Get　to　the　last　bit；'　she　advised。　'Aemos　strikes　again。'
Right　at　the　last；　Aemos　revealed　another　connection。
A　day　or　two　before　each　death；　the　victim's　locality　had　been　paid　a　visit　by　Sunsable's　Touring　Fair。
LADY　FROIGRE　WAS　most　perturbed　to　see　us　about　to　leave。　'There　are　questions　here　still…'　she　began。
'And　I'm　going　to　seek　the　answers；'　I　said。　'Trust　me。　I　believe　my　savant　has　hit　upon　something。'
She　nodded；　unhappy。　Rinton　stepped　forward　and　put　his　arm　around　his　mother's　shoulders。
'Trust　me；'　I　repeated　and　walked　out　across　the　drive　to　my　waiting　flyer。
I　could　hear　the　sound　of　chain　blades；　and　turned　from　the　car　to　walk　around　the　side　of　the　hall。　One　of　the　trees　brought　down　in
the　night's　freak　storm　had　crashed　part　of　the　stable　block　and　the　housemen　were　working　to　saw　up　the　huge　trunk　and　clear　it。
'Is　that　where　you　detected　Penshel　seed？'　I　asked　Alizebeth　when　she　came　to　find　out　what　was　keeping　me。
'Yes；'　she　said。
'Fetch　my　blade。'
I　called　the　housemen　away　from　their　work；　and　walked　into　the　collapsed　ruin　of　the　stable；　crunching　over　heaps　of　coarse　sawdust。
The　ivy…clad　tree　still　sprawled　through　the　burst　roof。
Alizebeth　brought　me　Barbarisater　and　I　drew　it　quickly。　By　then　Lady　Froigre　and　Rinton　Froigre　had　emerged　to　see　what　I　was
doing。
Barbarisater　hummed　in　my　hand；　louder　and　more　throatily　than　it　had　done　the　previous　night。　As　soon　as　I　entered　that　part　of　the
stable　block；　the　particular　stall　the　tree　had　smashed；　it　jumped。　The　taste　of　Chaos　was　here。
'What　was　this　used　for？'　I　asked。　'During　the　fete；　what　was　this　area　used　for？'

'Storage；'　said　Lady　Froigre。　'The　people　from　the　fair　ent　and　belongings　out　of　sight。　Food　too；　I　think。　One
man　had　trays　of　fresh　figs　he　wanted　to　keep　out　of　the　light。'
'And　the　hololithographer；'　said　Rinton。　'He　used　one　of　those　stalls　as　a　dark　room。'
SO　HOW　DO　you　find　a　travelling　fair　in　an　area　the　size　of　the　Drunner　Region？　If　you　have　a　copy　of　their　most　recent　invoice；　it's
easy。　The　fair…master；　eager　to　be　paid　for　his　services　at　Froigre　Hall；　had　left　as　a　payment　address　an　inn　eighty　kilometres　away　in
Seabrud。　From　the　invoice；　I　saw　that　Aen　had　been　asked　to　mail　the　payment　within　five　days。　The　fair　moved　around　a　great　deal；
and　the　travelling　folk　didn't　believe　much　in　the　concept　of　credit　accounts。
From　Seabrud；　we　got　a　fix　on　the　location　of　Sunsable's　Fair。
They　had　pitched　on　a　meadow　outside　the　village　of　Brudmarten；　a　little；　rustic　community　of　ket…herds　and　weavers　that　was　flanked
by　a　lush；　deciduous　woodland　hillside　to　the　east　and　marshy；　cattle…trampled　fields　below　at　the　river　spill　to　the　west。
It　was　late　afternoon　on　a　hot；　close　day；　the　air　edged　with　the　heavy；　fulminous　threat　of　storms。　The　sky　was　dark　overhead；　but　the
corn　was　bright　and　golden　down　in　the　meadows；　and　pollen　balls　blew　in　the　breeze　like　thistle…fibres。　Grain…crakes　whooped　in　the
corn　stands；　and　small　warblers　of　the　most　intense　blue　darted　across　the　hedges。
Gabon　lowered　the　limo　to　rest　in　a　lane　behind　the　village　kirk；　a　pale；　Low　Gothic　temple　in　need　of　up…keep。　A　noble　statue　of　the
Emperor　Immaculate　stood　in　the　overgrown　graveyard；　a　roost　for　wood　doves。　I　buckled　on　my　sword　and　covered　it　with　a　long
leather　cloak。　Gabon　locked　the　car。
'Stay　with　me；'　I　told　Alizebeth；　and　then　turned　to　Gabon。　'Shadow　us。'
'Yes；　sir。'
We　walked　down　the　lane　towards　the　fair。
Even　from　a　distance；　we　could　hear　the　noise　and　feel　the　energy。　The　arrival　of　the　fair　had　brought　the　folk　of　Brudmarten　and　the
neighbouring　hamlets　out　in　force。　Pipe　organs　were　trilling　and　wheezing　in　the　lank　air；　and　there　was　the　pop　and　whizz　of
firecrackers。　I　could　hear　laughter；　the　clatter　of　rides；　the　ringing　of　score　bells；　children　screaming；　rowdy　men　carousing；　pistons
hissing。　The　smell　of　warm　ale　wafted　from　the　tavern　tent。
The　gate　in　the　meadow's　hedge　had　been　turned　into　an　entranceway　arched　with　a　gaudy；　handpainted　sign　that　declared　Sunsable's
Miraculous　Fair　of　Fairs　open。　A　white…eyed　twist　at　the　gateway　took　our　coins　for　admission。
Inside；　on　the　meadow；　all　manner　of　bright；　vulgar　sights　greeted　us。　The　carousel；　lit　up　with　gas…lamps。　The　ring…toss。　The　neat；
pink　box…tent　of　the　clairvoyant。　The　churning　hoop　of　the　whirligig；　spilling　out　the　squeals　of　children。　The　colourful　shouts　of　the
freak　show　barker。　The　burnt…sugar　smell　of　floss　makers。　The　clang　of　test…your…strength　machines。
For　a　penny；　you　could　ride　the　shoulders　of　a　Battle　Titan　…　actually　an　agricultural　servitor　armoured　with　painted　sections　of　rusty
silage　hopper。　For　another　penny；　you　could　shoot　greenskins　in　the　las…gallery；　or　touch　the　Real　and　Completely　Genuine　shin　bone
of　Macharius；　or　dunk　for　ploins。　For　tuppence；　you　could　gaze　into　the　Eye　of　Terror　and　have　your　heroism　judged　by　a　hooded　man
with　a　stutter　who　claimed　to　be　an　ex…Space　Marine。　The　Eye　of　Terror　in　this　case　was　a　pit　dug　in　the　ground　and　filled　with
chemical　lamps　and　coloured　glass　filters。
Nearby；　a　small　donation　allowed　you　to　watch　an　oiled　man　struggle　free　from　chains；　or　a　burning　sack；　or　a　tin　bathtub　full　of
broken　glass；　or　a　set　of　stocks。
'Just　a　penny；　sir；　just　a　penny！'　howled　a　man　on　stilts　with　a　harle…quined　face　as　he　capered　past　me。　'For　the　young　lady！'
I　decided　not　to　ask　what　my　penny　might　buy。
'I　want　to　go　look　at　the　freak　show；'　Alizebeth　told　me。
'Save　your　money…　it's　all　around　us；'　I　growled。
We　pushed　on。　Coloured　balloons　drifted　away　over　the　field　into　the　encroaching　darkness　of　the　thunderhead。　Corn　crickets　rasped
furiously　in　the　trampled　stalks　all　about　us。　Drunken；　painted　faces　swam　at　us；　some　lacking　teeth；　some　with　glittering　augmetic
eyes。
'Over　there；'　I　whispered　to　Alizebeth。
Past　the　brazier　stand　of　a　woman　selling　paper　cones　of　sugared　nuts；　and　a　large　handcart　stacked　with　wire　cages　full　of　songbirds；
was　a　small　booth　tent　of　heavy　red　material　erected　at　the　side　of　a　brightly　painted　trailer。　A　wooden　panel　raised　on　buntingwrapped
posts　announced　''Hololiths！　Most　Lif