The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第20部分

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we　deliberately　plucked　the
wire。
In　a　moment；　ragged…robed　twist　muscle　loomed　out　of　the　murdered　undergrowth；　aiming　matchlocks　and　blades　at　us。
'We're　s'here　for　the　auction；'　I　told　them；　holding　up　Phant's　tracker。　'S'invited。'
'Name？'　croaked　a　frog…headed　thing　with　a　crossbow　and　a　spittle　problem。
'Eye…gor；　from　off。　With　his　twists。'
Frog…head　waved　us　into　the　site。　The　others　assembled　before　the　low；　flak…board　stage　on　which　Phant　Mastik　stood；　looking　round
at　us。
'Eye…gor！　Off…world　twist；　with　two　others；'　Frog…head　announced。
Phant　nodded　his　heavy；　tusked　head　and　Frog…head　and　his　men　backed　off；　putting　up　their　weapons。
＋＋S'glad　you　could　make　it；　twist＋＋
'You　the　Phant。　You　the　twist　with　the　stuff。　But…　I　s'hear　my　own　name　loud；　not　these　others。'
＋＋Let's　all　be　known；　then　the　sale　can　begin＋＋
Phant　looked　down　at　the　other　buyers。　One；　a　stunning　female　up…spire　hiver　in　a　tight　bodyglove　nodded。　'Frovys　Vassik；'　she　said
through　a　pan…lingual　servitor…skull　drone　that　floated　at　her　shoulder。
She　was　clearly　speaking　some　high…caste　dialect　cant　which　the　drone　was　translating。　I　assayed　her　and　her　two　male　bodyguards
quickly：　Dilettante　wealthers；　would…be　cultist　types；　well…armed　and　armoured　with　all　the　wargear　spire　money　could　afford。
'Merdok；'　said　the　next；　a　frail；　white…suited；　elderly　man　leaning　on　a　cane　and　wiping　perspiration　from　his　brow　with　a　japanagar
lace　kerchief　that　had　cost　more　than　the　lowly　Phant's　entire　outfit。　He　had　four　minders；　squat　females　in　rubberised　warrena　suits；
each　with　an　electronic　slave…leash　collar　around　her　throat。
'Tanselman　Fybes；'　said　the　bland…faced　man　to　Merdok's　left；　stepping　forward　with　a　courteous　nod。　He　was　dressed　in　a　bright
orange　cooler…suit；　with　large；　articulated　exchanger　vanes　sprouting　from　his　shoulders。　His　breath　smoked　in　the　personal　veil　of
cold　air　the　suit　was　generating　around　him。
He　was　also　alone；　which　made　him　instantly　more　dangerous　than　the　hive　retards　who　had　brought　muscle。
'You　may　address　me　as　Erotik；'　said　the　last；　a　bitch…faced　crone　who　had　inadvisably　wedged　her　ancient　body　into　a　close…fitting；
spiked；　black　bodyglove；　the　mark　of　a　death…cultist。
Or　would　be　death…cultist；　I　thought。　She　had　five　masked　and　harnessed　slaves　with　her；　all　of　them　sweating　in　the　misty　heat。　I　saw
at　once　they　were　out　of　their　depth。　They　played　at　death…cult；　up　in　the　eyries　of　the　mainhive；　maybe　cutting　their　skin　and　drinking
blood　once　in　a　while。　The　closest　they　had　come　to　a　real　death…cult　was　watching　some　blurry；　fake　snuff…pict　to　impress　their
friends　after　a　banquet。
'S'greet　you　all。　I'm　Eye…gor。　S'off　world；　and　twisted　as　they　come。'
I　bowed。　Fybes　and　Vassik　returned　the　motion。　Merdok　mopped　his　brow　and　Erotik　gestured　a　very　ham…fisted　sign　of　die　True
Death　which　nearly　made　Nayl　laugh　out　loud。
'Can　we　get　started；　my　friend　Phant？'　Merdok　asked；　dabbing　his　kerchief　around　the　sweat　runs　on　his　face。　'It's　midday　and　bloody
hot　out　here。'
'And　I　have　murders　to　do　and　blood　to　drink！'　Erotik　cried。　Her　plump　and　unhealthy　minders　oohed　and　aahed　and　tried　to　get　their
nipple…spikes　and　bondage　straps　comfortable。
'Oh　dear　God…Emperor…　they're　never　going　to　make　it　out　alive…'　whispered　Bequin。
'More　fool　them…'　I　whispered　back。
PHANT'S　MEN　USED　force…poles　and　electrolashes　to　goad　the　sale　item　from　the　back　of　a　crop…runner　track　onto　the　stage。　It　was　a
rangy　human；　straitjacketed　and　bindfolded；　with　a　heavy　psychic…damper　muzzle　buckled　around　his　head。
＋＋Alpha…plus　quality。　One　only。　S'bids；　now？'＋＋
'Ten　bars！'　cried　Erotik　at　once。
'Twenty；'　said　Vassik。
'Twenty…five！'　cried　Merdok。
Fybes　cleared　his　throat。　His　cough　blew　cold　steam　out　from　the　private　atmosphere　generated　by　his　suit。　'I　think　that's　established
the　common　level　here。　I　do　hate　mixing　with　proles。　One　thousand　bars。'

Erotik　and　her　minders　gasped。
Merdok　looked　pale。
Vassik　glanced　round　at　Fybes　with　a　curt　look。
'Ahh。　At　least　someone　sees　the　true　worth　of　the　item　on　sale。　Good。　We　can　begin　serious　bidding。'　Vassik　cleared　her　throat　and　her
cyber…skull　dutifully　issued　white　noise。　'Twelve　hundred　bars；'　she　said。
'Thirteen　hundred！'　Erotik　cried　out；　desperately。
'Fifteen；'　said　Merdok。　'My　best　offer。　I　had　no　idea　this　meet　would　be　so　hungry…　or　so　rich。'
'Two　thousand；'　said　Vassik's　hovering　skull。
'Three；'　said　Fybes。
Merdok　was　already　shaking　his　head。　Erotik　was　walking　away　towards　the　edge　of　the　site；　complaining　loudly　to　her　pudgy　sextoys；
who　bustled　around　her。
'Three　five；'　said　Vassik。
'Four；'　said　Fybes。
'Anything？'　I　whispered　to　Bequin。
'Not　even　the　slightest　latent　push。　But　those　baffles　could　be　doing　their　job。'
'So　it　could　be　Esarhaddon？'
'Yes。　I　doubt　it。　But　it　could。'
'Nayl？'
Harlon　Nayl　looked　round　at　me。
'Nothing。　The　Phant's　minders　are　getting　edgy　because　the　old　witch　and　her　sad　hump…muffins　are　trying　to　leave　before　the　auction's
finished。　But　nothing　else…'
'Five　five；'　Vassik's　servitor…skull　rasped。
'Six；'　said　Fybes。
Merdok　had　withdrawn　to　one　side　of　the　site　with　his　minders；　and　was　taking　a　sustaining　puff　of　obscura　from　a　portable　water…pipe
one　of　the　war…rena　slave　ferns　was　holding　for　him。　Erotik　and　her　chubby　concubines　were　arguing　with　Horn…head　and　another
couple　of　twists　on　the　other　side　of　the　burned　acre。
'Eight　five！'　Vassik　was　announcing。
'Nine！'　returned　Fybes。
'Fifty！'　I　said　quietly；　tossing　a　huge　pile　of　ingots　down　onto　the　stained　soil。
There　was　a　pause。　A　long；　damned　pause。
＋＋Fifty　bid＋＋
Phant　looked　down　at　us　all。
Merdok　and　Erotik　and　all　their　people　were　simply　dumbstruck。　Vassik　turned　away；　screaming；　and　her　minders　had　to　hold　her
down　as　she　went　into　fits　of　rage。
Fybes　just　looked　at　me；　his　breath　coming　slow　and　short　in　clouds。
'Fifty？'　he　said。
'S'fifty；　count　'em。　You　got　better？'
'What　if　I　have；　Eye…gor？　And　please…　stop　it　with　the　〃s'stupid　s'twist〃　talk。　It's　getting　on　my　nerves。'
Fybes　walked　towards　me。　He　reached　up　and　pulled　his　face　off。　The　flesh　disintegrated　like　gossamer　as　he　pulled　it　away；　revealing
his　blank；　piercing　eyes。
'Oh；　Gregor。　You　do　so　like　to　make　an　entrance；　don't　you？'　said　Cherubael。

ELEVEN
FACE　TO　FACE。
NO　WITNESSES。
DEATH　ALONG　THE　LINE。
HIS　WAS　THE　last　face　I　had　expected　to　see　here；　though　it　had　been　in　my　mind　and　my　nightmares　for　nearly　a　hundred　years。
'It's　been　a　while；　hasn't　it；　Gregor？'　the　daemonhost　said　softly；　almost　cordially。　'I've　thought　of　you　often；　fondly。　You　bested　me　on
56…Izar。　I…　held　a　grudge　for　a　while；　I　must　admit。　But　when　I　learned　you　had　survived　after　all；　I　eant
there　would　be　a　chance　for　us　to　meet　again。'
The　orange　cooler…suit　began　to　burn　and　collapse　off　him　in　molten　hanks　until　he　was　naked。　He　rose　gently；　arms　by　his　side；　like　a
dancer；　and　hovered　on　the　wind　a　few　metres　above　the　churned　soil。　He　was　still　tall；　and　powerfully　made；　but　the　aura　that　shone
from　him　was　more　sickly　green　than　the　gold　I　remembered。
Unhealthy　bulging　veins　corded　his　body；　and　the　nub…horns　on　his　brow　had　grown　into　short；　twisted　hooks。
'And　so　we　meet　again。　Aren't　you　going　to　say　anything？'

I　could　feel　Bequin　shaking　in　terror　beside　me。
'Stay　calm；　stay　still；'　I　told　her。
The　daemonhost　glanced　at　her　and　his　smile　widened。　'The　untouchable！　How　wonderful！　An　almost　exact　repeat　of　our　first
encounter。　How　are　you；　my　dear？'
'What　do　you　want？'　I　asked。
'Want？'
'You　always　want　something。　On　56…Izar；　it　was　the　Necroteuch。　Oh；　I　forgot。　You　never　want　anything；　do　you？　You're　just　a　slave；
doing　another's　bidding。'
Cherubael　frowned　slightly。　'Don't　be　uncivil；　Gregor。　You　should　treasure　the　fact　that　I　have　taken　a　personal　interest　in　you。　Most
things　that　cross　me　get　destroyed　very　quickly。　I　could　have　hunted　you　out　years　ago。　But　I　knew…　there　was　a　bond。'
'More　of　your　riddles。　More　nothings。　Tell　me　something　real。　Tell　me　about　Vogel　Passionata。'
He　laughed；　an　ugly　sound。　'Oh；　you　heard　about；　that　did　you？'
'Reports　of　the　incident　have　made　me　suspect　in　the　eyes　of　many。'
'I　know。　Bless　you；　that　wasn't　my　intention。　It　was　just　a　tiny　error　on　my　part。　I'm　sorry　if　it's　inconvenienced　you。'
'I　have　no　wish　to　be　seen　as　a　man　who　would　form　a　compact　with　daemons。'
'I'm　sure　you　haven't。　But　that　is　what's　happening；　whether　you　like　it　or　not。　Destiny；　Gregor。　Our　destinies　are　entwined；　in　ways
you　cannot　even　begin　to　see。　Why　else　would　you　dream　about　me？'
'Because　it　has　become　a　central　goal　of　my　life　to　hunt　you　down　and　banish　you。'
'Oh；　this　is　a　lot　more　than　simple　professional　obsession。　Think；　why　do　you　really　dream　of　me？　Why　do　you　search　for　me　so
diligently；　even　hiding　the　extent　of　that　search　from　your　masters？'
'I…'　My　mind　was　racing。　This　thing　knew　so　much。
'And　why　did　I　spare　you？　If　it　had　been　you　on　Vogel　Passionata；　I　would　have　let　you　live。　I　let　you　live　on　Thracian。'
'What？'
'You　stopped　to　pay　homage　at　Spatian's　tomb；　and　the　Gate　shielded　you　from　the　disaster。　Why　did　you　stop？　You　don't　know。　You
can't　explain　it；　can　you？　It　was　me。　Watching　over　you。　Planting　the　suggestion　in　your　mind。　Making　you　pause　for　no　reason。　We've
been　working　together　all　along。'
'No！'
'You　know　it；　Gregor。　You　just　don't　know　you　know　it。'
CHERUBAEL　FLOATED　AWAY　a　short　distance；　and　looked　around。　The　auction　site　was　frozen；　all　eyes　on　him。　No　one　dared　move；
not　even　the　most　weak…willed　twist　guard。　Even　those　present　who　didn't　know　what　he　was　recognised　the　extraordinary　evil　and
power　he　represented。
'What　are　you　waiting　for？'　a　voice　yelled　from　nearby。　Several　armed　men　stepped　out　of　their　cover　in　the　chew…after　tangles　and
approached。　It　was　Lyko；　with　six　gristly　examples　of　hired　muscle。
'Look　who　I　found；　Lyko。　I　sprang　this　trap；　just　like　you　suggested；　to　discover　if　anyone　was　on　your　tail；　and　look　who　it　turned　out
to　be。'
'Eisenhorn…'　Lyko　murmured；　fear　crossing　his　face　for　a　second。　He　looked　over　at　Cherubael。
'I　said；　what　are　you　waiting　for？　Kill　them　and　we　can　be　gone。'
It　was　suddenly　clear　to　me　Lyko　wasn't　the　daemonhost's　master。　Like　Konrad　Molitor　all　those　years　before；　Lyko　was　another
pawn；　a　corrupted　agent　of　someone…　something…　else。
'Must　I？'　asked　the　hovering　figure。
'Do　it！　No　witnesses！'
'Please！'　cried　the　elderly　Merdok。　'We　only　meant　t—'
Lyko　whipped　around　and　incinerated　the　old　man　with　his　plasma　gun。
That　broke　the　impasse。　Phant's　people　and　the　other　buyers　broke　in　panic；　drawing　weapons；　shouting。　Indiscriminate　shooting
began。　Lyko's　gunmen；　all　ex…military　types　with　autocannons；　hosed　the　staging　area　and　cut　down　the　fleeing　twists。　I　saw　Phant
Mastik　hit　by　a　burst　of　fire　and　collapse　in　rough　sections　backwards　off　the　platform。
His　horn…headed　minder　ran　at　Cherubael；　firing　a　grubby　old　laspistol。
Cherubael　hadn't　moved。　He　was　simply　watching　the　murder　around　him。　The　las…shots　sizzled　off　his　skin；　and　he　glanced　down　at
the　twist；　as　if　his　reverie　had　been　broken。
The　daemonhost　didn't　even　move　a　hand；　a　finger。　There　was　just　a　slight　nod　in　the　direction　of　th