The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第51部分

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ammatic　runes
flashed　and　flared　with　discharging　energy。　Kharnager　groaned　softly。
Heretic！　Slave　of　Chaos！　his　raw；　broken　mind…voice　railed　in　my　brain。
You　speak　of　yourself！　I　returned。　Our　blades　continued　to　ring　off　one　another；　hunting　for　a　gap；　mutually　denied。
Why　would　you　try　to　end　my　work　here　if　you　were　not　a　minion　of　the　warp？
Your　work？　This　thing？
We　broke；　and　then　came　in　again；　blades　striking　so　fast　the　noise　became　one　long　ringing　tone。　I　barely　made　an　ulsar　in　time　to
stop　one　of　his　rapid　down…stabs。　He　blocked　my　response　of　a　tahn　wyla；　and　the　uru　arav　that　I　followed　it　with。
This　is　just　the　test；　the　prototype。　Once　the　trials　with　it　are　conducted；　then　my　work　will　flower！
You　carve　up　a　mountain…　for　a　prototype？　A　prototype　of　what？
The　pylons　of　Cadia　pacify　the　warp；　he　spat。　By　amplifying　them　using　extreme…level　psykers；　they　could　be　made　into　a　weapon。　A
weapon　to　destroy　the　warp！　A　weapon　to　collapse　the　Eye　of　Terror　in　upon　itself！
He　was　raving；　insane。　What　patches　of　truth　or　sane　notions　might　lurk　in　his　words；　I　had　no　idea。　There　was　no　way　to　distinguish
them　from　his　lunatic　fancy。　All　I　knew　was　that　a　pylon；　psychically　super…charged；　might　do　all　manner　of　things；　but　its　side…effects
would　be　catastrophic。　It　could　lay　waste　to　the　continent；　the　planet。
I　think；　and　here　lay　the　true　horror　of　it；　I　think　Quixos　knew　that。　I　think　he　considered　that　to　be　an　acceptable　price　to　pay；　just　as
he　had　considered　the　atrocity　on　Thracian　a　necessary　cost　to　obtain　a　psyker　of　such　peerless　quality　as　Esarhaddon。　What　other
abominations　had　he　caused　in　acquiring　the　others？
As　Grumman　had　said；　just　before　his　death；　this　simply　had　to　be　stopped。
I　looked　at　his　face。
This　was　where　radicalism　led。　This　was　the　true　face　of　one　who　had　reached　the　place　and　crossed　the　line。　This　was　the　obscene
reality　behind　Pontius　Glaw's　jaunty　glorifications　of　Chaos。
We　rained　blows　at　each　other；　drawing　sparks　and　little　curls　of　vapour　from　the　blade　edges。　I　tried　a　low　swing；　but　he　leapt　over　it；
and　alternated　a　series　of　scissoring　blows　that　drove　me　backwards　across　the　dusty　ground。　I　thought　my　feet　would　slip。　He　was　a
whirlwind。
I　saw　my　moment。　Barbarisater　saw　it　too。　A　slight　underswing　on　his　blade　return　that　opened　a　gap　for　a　sar　aht　uht；　a　slice　to　the
heart；　just　for　a　microsecond。
I　thrust　in；　putting　all　my　will　into　the　blade。　Somehow；　dazzlingly；　he　still　managed　to　turn　Kharnager　and　block　me。
Barbarisater　struck　the　daemonsword　and　broke　in　half。
And　it　was　the　ultimate　failure　of　the　ancient　Carthaen　blade　that　gave　me　victory。　If　it　had　stayed　intact；　the　block　would　have　stopped
it　and　the　fight　would　have　continued。
Breaking　around　Quixos's　sword…edge；　the　truncated　half　of　Barbarisater　in　my　hand　continued　on；　with　all　my　mustered　force　behind
it；　until　the　broken　end　plunged　through　his　cloak；　his　body　armour；　his　augmetic　implants　and　ran　him　through　the　torso。
The　ewl　caer。
It　took　almost　equal　force　to　break　the　suction　of　his　flesh　around　the　blade　and　rip　it　out。
Quixos　staggered　backwards；　polluted　blood　spurting　from　the　wound；　his　augmetics　shorting　out　and　exploding。
Then　he　fell　to　the　dusty　floor　of　the　undervault；　and　became　dust　himself；　until　there　was　nothing　left　but　rotting　augmetic　devices
and　empty　armour　twisted　under　his　lank　cape。
Heretic！　his　mind　screeched　out　as　he　died。
Coming　from　him；　the　word　felt　like　a　compliment。
SITE　A　WAS　dismantled　and　destroyed　by　the　taskforce；　and　the　faux　pylon　smashed　by　sustained　orbital　fire。　Quixos's　psykers；　and　his
surviving　servants；　were　imprisoned；　and　then　turned　over　to　the　Black　Ships　of　the　Inquisition；　six　of　which　arrived　a　few　days　later；
once　we　had　published　news　of　our　achievement。　Most　of　the　captives　were　deemed　too　dangerous　or　too　tainted　to　keep；　even　under
the　closest　guard；　and　were　executed。　Esarhaddon　was　one　of　those。
Many　precious　texts　and　artifacts　were　recovered　from　Site　A；　and　many　more　that　were　diabolic　and　abominable。　He　had
accumulated　a　vast　resource　of　esoteric　material；　and　there　was　supposed　to　be　a　great　deal　more　at　his　fastness　on　distant　Maginor。　A
further　purge　would　reveal　the　truth　of　that。
As　the　report　has　it；　no　trace　was　ever　found　of　the　Malus　Codicium；　the　foul　grimoire　on　which　his　power　had　ultimately　been　based。
BY　THE　TIME　I　had　returned　to　Gudrun　with　my　followers　and　allies；　the　carta　issued　against　me　had　been　abolished。　None　of　Osma's
allegations　could　stand　up　in　the　face　of　the　evidence　gathered　at　Farness；　or　the　many　statements　collected　by　the　Inquisition；
statements　pleading　my　innocence　made　by　such　individuals　as　Lord　Procurator　Madorthene；　Inquisitor　General　Neve；　Interrogator
Inshabel　and；　God…Emperor　help　him；　Titus　Endor。
I　was　never　offered　any　sort　of　official　apology；　not　by　Grandmaster　Orsini；　or　by　Bezier；　and　certainly　not　by　Osma。　His　career　didn't
suffer　one　bit。　Twenty　years　later；　he　was　elected　Master　of　the　Ordo　Malleus　Helican　after　Bezier's　sudden；　unexpected　death。
Grumman's　remains；　and　the　remains　of　his　Kasrkin；　were　buried　in　one　of　the　lonely　field…grave　plots　on　Cadia；　to　be　remembered　as
long　as　the　Law　of　Decipherability　allowed。　Ricci　had　a　library　named　after　him　on　his　home　world　of　Hesperus。　Voke　was　buried
with　full　honours　at　the　Thorian　Sacristy　adjoining　the　Great　Cathedral　of　the　Ministorum　on　Thracian　Primaris。　A　small　brass　plaque
commemorating　the　achievements　of　his　long　and　dedicated　career　remains　on　the　sacristy　wall　to　this　day。
He　and　I　had　never　been　friends；　but　I　own　that　in　the　years　after　he　was　gone；　I　missed　his　caustic　manner　from　time　to　time。
EPILOGUE
WINTER；　345。M41。
THE　VOICE　WAS　like　the　sound　of　some　eternal　glacier　…　slow；　old；　cold；　heavy。
It　asked　simply；　'Why？'
'Because　I　can。'
The　silence　lasted　for　a　long　time。　The　thousand　candle　flames　flickered　and　rippled　the　carefully　inscribed　stone　walls　with　echoes　of
their　moving　glow。
'Why？　Why…　have　you　done　this…　this　wretched　thing　to　me？'
'Because　I　have　power　over　you　where　once　you　had　power　over　me。　You　used　me。　You　orchestrated　my　life。　You　moved　me　like　a
regicide　piece　to　the　place　where　I　best　served　your　desires。　Now；　that　is　reversed。'
It　thrashed　against　its　chains　and　shackles；　but　it　was　still　too　weak　from　the　ordeals　of　the　snaring；　the　entrapment。
'Damn　you…'　it　whispered；　falling　limp。
'Understand　me。　I　said　I　would　never　help　a　thing　like　you；　but　you　tricked　me　into　doing　so　and　almost　got　away　with　it。　That's　why　I
have　done　this。　That's　why　I　have　expended　the　considerable　time　and　effort　involved　in　raising　you；　snaring　you　and　binding　you。
This　is　a　lesson。　I　will　never；　ever　allow　my　actions　or　my　life　to　benefit　the　Archenemy。　You　said　that　from　the　outset；　you　knew　I
was　the　one　who　would　free　you　from　Quixos's　service。　It's　a　shame　for　you　that　you　failed　to　see　what　I　might　do　to　you　instead。'
'Damn　you！'　the　voice　was　louder。
'There　will　be　a　time；　Cherubael；　daemon…thing；　when　you　will　wish　with　all　your　putrid　soul　to　be　Quixos's　plaything　again。'
Cherubael　threw　itself　at　me　as　far　as　it　could　before　the　chains　went　taut　and　snapped　it　back。　Its　scream　of　rage　and　malice　shook　the
cell　and　blew　every　last　one　of　the　candles　out。
I　sealed　the　vacuum　hatch；　engaged　the　warp　dampers　and　the　void　shield；　and　turned　the　thirteen　locks　one　by　one。
From　far　away　in　the　house；　Jarat　was　ringing　the　bell　for　dinner。　I　was　bone…weary　from　my　exertions；　but　food　and　wine　and　good
company　would　refresh　me。
I　CLIMBED　THE　screwstair　from　the　deep　basement　stronghold；　code…locked　the　door　and　wandered　to　my　study。　Outside；　the　snows
had　come　early　to　Gudran。　Light　flakes　were　blowing　in　through　the　twilight；　across　the　woods　and　paddocks；　and　settling　across　the
lawns　of　my　estate。
In　the　study；　I　returned　the　items　I　had　been　carrying　to　their　places。　I　put　the　bottles　of　chrism　back　on　the　shelf；　and　the　ritual　athame；
mirror　and　lamens　in　the　casket。　The　Imperial　amulet　went　back　on　its　velvet　pad　in　the　locking　draw；　and　I　slid　the　tube…scrolls　back
into　their　catalogue　rack。
Then　I　placed　the　ranestaff　on　its　hooks　in　the　lit　alcove　above　the　glass　case　containing　the　broken　pieces　of　proud　Barbarisater。
Finally；　I　opened　the　void　safe　in　the　floor　behind　my　bureau；　and　gently　laid　the　Malus　Codicium　inside。
Jarat　was　ringing　the　bell　again。
I　sealed　the　safe　and　went　down　to　dinner。

BACKCLOTH　FOR　A　CROWN
ADDITIONAL
LORD　FROIGRE；　MUCH　to　everyone's　dismay　including；　I'm　sure；　his　own；　was　dead。
It　was　a　dry；　summer　morning　in　355。M41　and　I　was　taking　breakfast　with　Alizebeth　Bequin　on　the　terrace　of　Spaeton　House　when　I
received　the　news。　The　sky　was　a　blurry　blue；　the　colour　of　Sameterware　porcelain；　and　down　in　the　bay　the　water　was　a　pale　lilac；
shot　through　with　glittering　frills　of　silver。　Sand　doves　warbled　from　the　drowsy　shade　of　the　estate　orchards。
Jubal　Kircher；　my　craggy；　dependable　chief　of　household　security；　came　out　into　the　day's　heat　from　the　garden　room；　apologised
courteously　for　interrupting　our　private　meal；　and　handed　me　a　folded　square　of　thin　transmission　paper。
'Trouble？'　asked　Bequin；　pushing　aside　her　dish　of　ploin　crepes。
'Froigre's　dead；'　I　replied；　studying　the　missive。
'Froigre　who？'
'Lord　Froigre　of　House　Froigre。'
'You　knew　him？'
'Very　well。　I　would　count　him　as　a　friend。　Well；　how　very　miserable。　Dead　at　eighty…two。　That's　no　age。'
'Was　he　ill？'　Bequin　asked。
'No。　Aen　Froigre　was；　if　anything；　maddeningly　robust　and　healthy。　Not　a　scrap　of　augmetics　about　him。　You　know　the　sort。'　I　made
this　remark　pointedly。　My　career　had　not　been　kind　to　my　body。　I　had　been　repaired；　rebuilt；　augmented　and　generally　sewn　back
together　more　times　than　I　cared　to　remember。　I　was　a　walking　testimonial　to　Imperial　Medicae　reconstruction　surgery。　Alizebeth；　on
the　other　hand；　still　looked　like　a　woman　in　her　prime；　a　beautiful　woman　at　that；　and　only　the　barest　minimum　of　juvenat　work　had
preserved　her　so。
'According　to　this；　he　died　following　a　seizure　at　his　home　last　night。　His　family　are　conducting　thorough　investigations；　of　course；
but…'　I　drummed　my　fingers　on　the　table…top。
'Foul　play？'
'He　was　an　influential　man。'
'Such　men　have　enemies。'
'And　friends；'　I　said。　I　handed　her　the　communique。　'That's　y　assistance。'
But　for　my　friendship　with　Aen；　I'd　have　turned　the　matter　down。　Alizebeth　had　only　just　arrived　on　Gudrun　after　an　absence　of　almost
eighteen　months；　and　would　be　gone　again　in　a　week；　so　I　had　resolved　to　spend　as　much　time　with　her　as　possible。　The　operational
demands　of　the　Distaff；　based　on　Messina；　kept　her　away　from　my　side　far　more　than　I　would　have　liked。
But　this　was　important；　and　Lady　Froigre's　plea　too　distraught　to　ignore。
'I'll　come　with　you；'　Alizebeth　suggested。　'I　feel　like　a　jaunt　in　the　country。'　She　called　for　a　staff　car　to　be　brought　round　from　the
stable　block　and　we　were　on　our　way　in　under　an　hour。
FELIPPE　GABON；　ONE　of　Kircher's　security　detail；　acted　as　our　driver。　He　guided　the　car　up　from　Spaeton　on　a　whisper　of　thrust　and
laid　in　a　course　for　Menizerre。　Soon　we　were　cruising　south…west　over　the　forest　tracts　and　t