The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第7部分

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capture　him；　not　scare　him　off　with　a　full　blown　alert。　In　the　few　hours　since　I　had　arrived　back　at　the　Ocean　House；　a　nasty　taste　of
treachery　had　seeped　into　my　world。　It　might　be　largely　paranoia；　but　I　wanted　an　end　to　it。
A　beam　of　white　light　stabbed　across　the　foyer　floor　from　the　half　open　kitchen　doors。　I　heard　movement　again。
I　sidled　to　the　doorframe；　checked　the　safety　was　off；　and　slid；　weapon　first；　through　the　gap　in　the　doors。
The　outer　kitchen；　a　realm　of　marble…topped　workbays　and　scrubbed　aluminium　ranges；　was　empty。　Metal　pots　and　utensils　hung
silently　from　ceiling　racks。　There　was　a　smell　of　garlic　and　cooked　herbs　in　the　still　air。　The　light　was　on　in　the　inner　pantry；　near　the
cold　store；　and　the　illuminated　backwash　filled　the　room。
Two　steps；　three；　four。　The　kitchen's　stone　floor　was　numbingly　cold　under　my　bare　feet。　I　reached　the　door　to　the　inner　pantry。　There
was　movement　inside。
I　kicked　the　door　open　and　leapt　inside；　aiming　the　compact　sidearm。
Medea　Betancore；　clad　only　in　a　long；　ex…military　undershirt；　roared　out　in　surprise　and　dropped　the　tray　of　leftover　ketelfish　she　had
been　gorging　on。　The　tray　clattered　on　the　tiled　floor　in　front　of　the　open　larder。
'Great　gods　alive；　Eisenhorn！'　she　wailed　in　outrage；　jumping　up　and　down　on　the　spot。　'Don't　do　that！'
I　was　angry。　I　didn't　immediately　lower　my　aim。　'What　are　you　doing？'
'Eating？　Hello？'　She　sneered　at　me。　'Feel　like　I've　been　asleep　for　a　week。　I'm　famished。'
I　began　to　lower　the　gun。　A　sense　of　embarrassment　began　to　filter　into　my　wired　state。
'I'm　sorry。　Sorry。　You　should…　maybe…　get　dressed　before　you　come　down　to　raid　the　larder。'　It　sounded　stupid　even　as　I　said　it。　I
didn't　realise　how　stupid　until　a　moment　later。　I　was　too　painfully　aware　of　her　long；　dark　legs　and　the　way　the　singlet　top　was　curved
around　the　proud　swell　of　her　bust。
'You　should　take　your　own　advice…　Gregor；'　she　said；　raising　one　eyebrow。
I　looked　down。　I　had　lost　the　sheet　kicking　open　the　door。　I　was　what　Midas　Betancore　used　to　call　''very　naked''。
Except；　of　course；　for　the　loaded　gun。
'Damn。　My　apologies。'　I　turned　to　scrabble　for　the　fallen　sheet。
'Don't　stand　on　my　account；'　she　sniggered。
I　froze；　stooped。　The　muzzle　of　a　Tronsvasse　parabellum　was　pointing　directly　at　my　head　from　the　darkness　behind　me。
It　lowered。　Harlon　Nayl　looked　me　up　and　down　for　a　moment　in　frank　dismay　and　then　raised　a　warning　finger　to　his　lips。　He　was
fully　clothed；　damn　him。
I　retrieved　my　sheet。
'What？'　I　hissed。

'Someone's　in。　I　can　feel　it；'　he　whispered。　'The　noise　you　two　were　making；　I　thought　it　was　the　intruder。　Didn't　know　you　were　so
keen　on　Medea。'
'Shut　up。'
The　two　of　us　fanned　out　back　through　the　outer　kitchen。　Nayl　pulled　up　the　hood　of　his　vulcanised　black　bodyglove　to　cover　his　pale；
shaved　head。　He　was　a　big　man；　a　head　taller　than　me；　but　he　melted　away　into　the　darkness。　I　watched　carefully　for　his　signals。
Nayl　waved　me　left　down　the　hall。　I　trusted　his　judgment　completely。　He　had　stalked　the　galaxy's　most　innovative　and　able　scum　for
three　decades。　If　there　were　intruders；　he'd　find　them。
I　entered　the　Ocean　House's　main　hall；　and　saw　the　front　entry　was　ajar。　The　code　display　on　the　main　lock　was　blinking　a　default　of
zeros。
I　swung　round　as　a　gun　roared　behind　me。　I　heard　Nayl　cry　out　and　sprinted　back　into　the　inner　foyer。　Nayl　was　on　the　floor；　grappling
with　an　unidentifiable　man。
'Get　up！　Get　up！　I'm　armed！'　I　shouted。
In　reply；　the　unknown　intruder　smacked　Nayl's　head　back　against　the　floor　so　hard　he　knocked　him　out；　and　then　threw　Nayl's　heavy
sidearm　at　me。
I　fired；　once；　and　blew　a　hole　in　the　wall。　The　spinning　gun　clipped　my　temple　and　knocked　me　over。
I　heard　a　series　of　fleshy　cracks　and　impacts；　a　guttural　gasp　and　then　Medea　Betancore's　voice　shouting；　'Lights　up！'
I　rose。　She　was　standing　astride　the　intruder；　one　hand　braced　in　a　fierce　fist；　the　other　pulling　down　her　undershirt　for　modesty。
'I　got　him；'　she　said；　glancing　round　at　me。
The　dazed　intruder　was　clad　in　black　from　head　to　foot。　I　wrenched　off　his　hood。
It　was　Titus　Endor。
'Gregor；'　he　lisped　through　a　bloody　mouth。　'You　did　say　you　were　home。'
FOUR
BETWEEN　FRIENDS。
AN　INTERVIEW　WITH　LORD　RORKEN。
THE　APOTROPAIC　CONGRESS。
'GRAIN　JOILIQ；　WITH　shaved　ice；　and　a　sliver　of　citrus。'
Seated　in　my　sanctum　chamber；　Endor　took　the　proffered　drink　and　grinned　at　me。　'You　remembered。'
'Many　were　the　nights；　in　those　fine　old　days。　Titus；　I've　mixed　your　drink　of　choice　too　many　times　to　count。'
'Hah！　I　know。　What　was　that　place；　the　one　off　Zansiple　Street？　Where　the　host　used　to　drink　the　profits？'
'The　Thirsty　Eagle；'　I　replied。　He　knew　full　well。　It　was　as　if　he　was　testing　me。
'The　Thirsty　Eagle；　that's　it！　Many　were　the　nights；　as　you　say。'
He　held　up　his　tumbler　of　clear；　iced　spirits。
'Raise　'em　and　sink　'em　and　let's　have　another！'
I　echoed　the　old　toast　and　clinked　my　lead…crystal　of　vintage　amasec　against　his　glass。
For　a　moment；　it　was　indeed　like　the　fine　old　days。　Both　of　us；　nineteen　years　old；　full　of　piss　and　promethium；　newly　promoted
interrogators　ready　to　take　on　the　whole　damn　galaxy；　students　of　old　Inquisitor　Hapshant。　Five　years　later；　almost　simultaneously；　we
would　both　be　elected　full　inquisitors；　and　our　individual　careers　would　begin　in　earnest。
Nineteen　years　old；　drunk　on　our　feet；　carousing　in　an　armpit　of　a　bar　off　Zansiple　Street　after　hours；　mocking　our　illustrious　mentor
and　bonding　for　life；　bonding　with　that　unquestioning　exuberance　that　seems　to　me　now　only　possible　in　youth。
It　was　like　regarding　a　different　life；　so　far　away；　almost　unrecoverable。　I　was　not　that　Gregor　Eisenhorn。　And　this　man；　with　his　long；
braided　grey　hair　and　scarred　face；　sitting　in　my　sanctum　dressed　in　a　body…heat　masking　stealth　suit；　was　not　that　Titus　Endor。
'You　could　have　called；'　I　began。
'I　did。'
I　shrugged。　'You　could　have　joined　us　for　dinner　tonight。　Jarat　excelled　herself　again。'
'I　know。　But　then…'　he　paused；　and　rattled　the　ice　around　in　his　drink　thoughtfully。　'But　then；　it　might　have　become　known　that
Inquisitor　Endor　had　visited　Inquisitor　Eisenhorn。'
'It　is　well　known　that　those　two　are　old　friends。　Why　would　that　have　been　a　problem？'
Endor　set　down　his　drink；　unpopped　the　fasteners　around　his　waistband　and　pulled　the　top　half　of　his　stealth　suit　up　over　his　head。　He
cast　the　garment　aside。
'Too　hot；'　he　remarked。　His　undershirt　was　dark　with　sweat。　The　jagged　saurapt　tooth　still　hung　around　his　neck　on　a　black　cord。　That
tooth。　Years　ago；　I'd　dug　it　out　of　his　leg　after　he　had　driven　the　beast　off。　Brontotaph；　twelve　decades　ago　and　more。　The　pair　of　us；
alongside　Hapshant；　in　the　mist…meres。
'I've　come　for　the　Novena；'　he　said。　'I　was　summoned　to　attend　by　Orsini's　staff；　like　you　I　imagine。　I　wanted　to　talk　to　you；　talk　to　you
as　far　off　the　record　as　was　possible。'

'So　you　broke　into　my　house？'
He　sighed　deeply；　finished　his　drink　and　walked　over　to　the　spirit　stand　in　the　corner　of　the　room　to　fix　another。
'You're　in　trouble；'　he　said。
'Really？　Why　is　that？'
He　looked　round；　peeling　strips　of　citrus　rind　off　a　fruit　with　a　paring　knife。
'I　don't　know。　But　there　are　rumblings。'
'There　are　always　rumblings。'
He　turned　to　face　me　fully。　His　eyes　were　suddenly　very　hard　and　bright。　'Take　this　seriously。'
'Very　well；　I　will。'
'You　know　what　the　rumour…mill　is　like。　Someone's　always　got　a　point　to　make；　a　score　to　settle。　There　were　stories。　I　dismissed　them
at　first。'
'Stories？'
He　sighed　again　and　returned　to　his　seat　with　his　refreshed　drink。
'There　is　talk　that　you　are…　unsound。'
'What　talk？'
'Damn　it；　Gregor！　I'm　not　one　of　your　interview　suspects！　I've　come　here　as　a　friend。'
'A　friend　who　broke　in　wearing　a　stealth　suit　and—'
'Shut　up　just　for　a　minute；　would　you？'
I　paused。
'Gladly。　If　you　cut　to　the　chase。'
'The　first　I　heard；　someone　was　bad…mouthing　you。'
'Who？'
'It　doesn't　matter。　I　waded　in　and　told　them　just　what　I　thought。　Then　I　heard　the　story　again。　Eisenhorn's　unsound。　He's　lost　the　plot。'
'Really？'
'Then　the　stories　changed。　It　was　no　longer　〃Eisenhorn's　unsound〃；　it　was；　〃The　people　who　matter　think　Eisenhorn's　unsound〃。　As　if
somehow　suspicion　of　you　had　become　official。'
'I've　heard　nothing；'　I　said；　sitting　back。
'Of　course　you　haven't。　Who'd　say　it　to　your　face　but　a　friend…　or　a　convening　judge　from　Internal　Prosecution？'
I　raised　my　eyebrows。　'You're　really　worried；　aren't　you；　Titus？'
'Damn　right。　Someone's　gunning　for　you。　Someone　whose　got　the　ear　of　the　upper　echelon。　Your　career　and　activities　are　under
scrutiny。'
'You　get　that　all　from　rumours？　Come　on；　Titus。　There　are　plenty　of　inquisitors　I　can　think　of　who'd　like　to　score　points　off　me。
Orsini's　a　closet　Monodominant；　and　the　puritan　idealists　are　forming　a　power　block　around　him。　They　are　radicals；　in　their　way。　You
know　that。　Us　Amalathians　are　too　louche　for　their　tastes。'
I　mentioned　before　how　I　hated　politics。　Nothing　is　more　fruitless　and　wearying　than　the　internal　politics　of　the　Inquisition　itself。　My
kind　is　fractured　internally　by　belief　factions　and　intellectual　sectarianism。　Endor　and　myself　count　ourselves　as　Amalathian
inquisitors；　which　is　to　say　we　hold　an　optimistic　outlook　and　work　to　sustain　the　integrity　of　the　Imperium；　believing　it　to　be
functioning　according　to　the　divine　Emperor's　scheme。　We　preserve　the　status　quo。　We　hunt　down　recidivist　elements：　heretics；　aliens；
psykers；　the　three　key　enemies　of　mankind　…　these　are　of　course　our　primary　targets　…　but　we　will　set　ourselves　against　anything　that
we　perceive　to　be　destabilising　Imperial　society；　up　to　and　including　factional　infighting　between　the　august　organs　of　our　culture。　It
has　always　struck　me　as　ironic　that　we　had　to　become　a　faction　in　order　to　fight　factionalism。
We　profess　to　be　puritans；　and　certainly　are　so　compared　to　the　extreme　radical　factions　of　the　Inquisition　such　as　the　Istvaanians　and
the　Recongrenators。
But　equally　alien　to　us　are　the　extreme　right　wing　of　the　puritan　factions；　the　Monodominants　and　the　Thorians；　some　of　whom　believe
even　the　use　of　trained　psykers　to　be　heretical。
If　I　was　in　trouble；　it　would　not　be　the　first　time　an　inquisitor　of　tempered；　moderate　beliefs　had　run　foul　of　either　extreme　in　his　own
organisation。
'This　goes　beyond　simple　faction　intrigue；'　Titus　said　quietly。　'This　isn't　a　hardliner　deciding　to　give　the　moderates　a　going　over。　This
is　particular　to　you。　They　have　something。'
'What？'
'Something　concrete　on　you。'
'How　do　you　know？'
'Because　twenty　days　ago　on　Messina；　I　was　detained　and　questioned　by　Inquisitor　Osma　of　the　Ordo　Malleus。'
I　suddenly　realised　I　was　up　out　of　my　seat。
'You　were　what？'
He　waved　dismissively。　'I'd　just　finished　a　waste…of…time　matter；　and　was　preparing　to　pack　up　and　ship　for　Thracian。　Osma　contacted
me；　polite　and　friendly；　and　asked　if　he　could　meet　with　me。　I　went　to　see　him。　It　was　all　very　civil。　He　made　no　effort　to　restrain　me…
but　I　don't　think　I　could　have　left　before　he　had　finished。　He　was　guarded；　but　he　made　it　clear　that　if　I　decided　to　walk　out…　his
people　would　stop　me。'
'That's　outrageous！'

'No；　that's　Osma。　You've　met　him　surely？　One　of　Orsini's。