The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第25部分

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subsector's　trader　markets　had　crashed。　Trade　was　bad。　What　a　year。　Saint　Drache　was　martyred　on　Korynth。　Billions　starved　in　the
Beznos　famine。'
'I　have　access　to　history　texts；　Pontius；'　I　said　dryly
'I　was　on　Quenthus　VIII；　buying　fighters　for　my　pit…games。　They're　a　good　breed；　the　Quenthi；　long　in　the　hams　and　quite　belligerent。　I
was；　perhaps；　twenty…five。　I　forget　exactly。　I　was　in　my　prime；　beautiful。'
There　was　a　long　silence　while　he　considered　this　reflection。　Light…sparks　pulsed　along　his　wires。
'One　of　the　pit…marshals　at　the　amphitheatre　I　was　visiting　advised　me　to　see　a　fighter　who　had　been　bought　in　from　the　very　edges　of
the　Ultima　Segmentum。　A　great；　tanned　fellow　from　a　feral　world　called　Borea。　His　name　was　Aaa；　which　meant；　in　his　tongue；
〃sword…cuts…meat…for…women…prizes〃。　Isn't　that　lovely？　If　I　had　ever　sired　a　son；　a　human　one；　I　mean；　I　would　have　called　him　Aaa。
Aaa　Glaw。　Quite　a　ring　to　it；　eh？'
'I'm　still　on　the　verge　of　leaving；　Glaw。'
The　voice　from　the　casket　chuckled。　'This　Aaa　was　a　piece　of　work。　His　teeth　were　filed　into　points　and　his　fingertips　had　been　bound
and　treated　with　traditional　unguents　since　his　birth　so　that　they　had　grown　into　claws。　Claws；　Eisenhorn！　Fused；　calcified　hooks　of
keratin　and　callouses。　I　once　saw　him　rip　through　chainmail　with　them。　Anyway；　he　was　a　true　find。　They　kept　him　shackled
permanently。　The　pit…marshal　told　me　that　he'd　torn　a　fellow　prisoner's　arm　off　during　transit；　and　scalped　a　careless　stadium　guard。
With　his　teeth。'
'Charming。'
'I　bought　him；　of　course。　I　think　he　liked　me。　He　had　no　real　language；　naturally；　and　his　table　manners！　He　slept　in　his　own　soil　and
rutted　like　a　canine。'
'No　wonder　he　liked　you。'
The　frost　crackled　around　the　casket。　'Cruel　boy。　I　am　a　cultured　man。　Ha。　I　was　a　cultured　man。　Now　I　am　an　erudite　and　dangerous
box。　But　don't　forget　my　learning　and　upbringing；　Eisenhorn。　You'd　be　amazed　how　easy　it　is　for　a　well…raised　and　schooled　son　of　the
Imperium　to　slide　across　that　line　I　mentioned。'
'Go　on。　I'm　sure　you　had　a　point　to　make。'
'Aaa　served　me　well。　I　won　several　fortunes　on　his　pit…fights。　I　won't　pretend　we　ever　became　friends…　one　doesn't　become　friends
with　a　favourite　carnodon　now；　does　one？　And　one　certainly　never　makes　friends　with　a　commodity。　But　we　built　an　understanding
over　the　years。　I　would　visit　him　in　his　cell；　unguarded；　and　he　never　touched　me。　He　would　halt　out　old　myths　of　his　home　world；
Borea。　Vicious　tales　of　barbary　and　murder。　But　I'm　getting　ahead　of　myself。　The　moment；　the　moment　was　there　on　Quenthus；　in　the

amphitheatre；　under　the　spring　sun。　The　pit…marshal　showed　me　Aaa；　and　tempted　me　to　purchase　him。　Aaa　looked　at　me；　and　I　think
he　saw　a　kindred　soul…　which　is　probably　why　we　bonded　once　he　was　mine。　In　his　simple；　broken　speech；　he　implored　me　to　buy
him；　telling　me　graphically　what　sport　I　would　have　of　him。　And　to　seal　the　deal；　he　offered　me　his　tore。'
'His　tore？'
'That's　right。　The　slaves　were　allowed　to　keep　certain　familiar　items　provided　they　weren't　potential　weapons。　Aaa　wore　a　golden　tore
around　his　neck；　the　mark　of　his　tribe。　It　was　the　most　valuable　thing　he　possessed。　Actually；　it　was　the　only　thing　he　possessed。　But
no　matter…　he　offered　it　to　me　in　return　for　me　becoming　his　master。　I　took　it；　and；　as　I　said；　I　bought　him。'
'And　that　was　the　line？'　I　sat　back；　unimpressed。
'Wait；　wait…　later；　later　that　same　day；　I　examined　the　tore。　It　was　inlaid　with　astonishing　technology。　Borea　might　have　been　a　beastworld
by　then；　but　millennia　back；　it　had　clearly　been　an　advanced　outpost　of　mankind。　It　had　fallen　into　a　feral　dark　age　because
Chaos　had　touched　it；　and　that　tore　was　a　relic　of　the　decline。　Its　forbidden；　forgotten　technology　focussed　the　stuff　of　the　Darkness
into　the　wearer's　mind。　No　wonder　Borea；　where　every　adult　male　wore　one；　was　a　savage　waste。　I　was　intrigued。　I　put　the　tore　on。'
'You　put　it　on？'
'I　was　young　and　reckless；　what　can　I　say？　I　put　it　on。　Within　a　few　hours；　the　tendrils　of　the　warp　had　suffused　my　receptive　mind。
And　do　you　know　what？'
'What？'
'It　was　wonderful！　Liberating！　I　was　alive　to　the　real　universe　at　last！　I　had　crossed　the　line；　and　it　was　bliss。　Suddenly　I　saw
everything　as　it　actually　was；　not　as　the　Ministorum　and　the　rot…hearted　Emperor　wanted　to　see　it。　Engulfing　eternity！　The　fragility　of
the　human　race！　The　glories　of　the　warp！　The　fleeting　treasure　of　flesh！　The　incomparable　sweetness　of　death！　All　of　it！'
'And　you　ceased　to　be　Pontius　Glaw；　the　seventh　son　of　a　respectable　Imperial　House；　and　became　Pontius　Glaw；　the　sadistic　idolator
and　abomination？'
'A　boy's　got　to　have　a　hobby。'
'Thank　you　for　sharing　this　with　me；　Pontius。　It　has　been　revealing。'
'I'm　just　getting　started。
'Goodbye。'
'Eisenhorn！　Eisenhorn；　wait！　Please！　I—'
The　cell　hatches　clanged　shut　after　me。
I　WAITED　TWO　days　before　I　returned　to　see　him。　He　was　sullen　and　moody　this　time。
I　entered　the　cell　and　set　down　the　tray　I　was　carrying。
'Don't　expect　me　to　talk　to　you；'　he　said。
'Why？'
'I　opened　my　soul　to　you　the　other　day　and　you…　walked　out。'
'I'm　back　now。'
'Yes；　you　are。　Closer　to　that　line　yet？'
'You　tell　me。'　I　leaned　over　and　poured　myself　a　large　glass　of　amasec　from　the　decanter　on　the　tray。　I　rocked　the　glass　a　few　times　and
then　took　a　deep　sip。
'Amasec。'
'Yes。'
'Vintage？'
'Fifty　year　old　Gathalamor　vintage；　aged　in　burwood　barrels。'
'Is　it…　good？'
'No。'
'No？'
'It　is　perfect。'
The　casket　sighed。
'You　were　saying。　About　that　line？'　I　asked。
'I…　I　was　saying　I　was　most　annoyed　with　you；'　Pontius　returned；　stubbornly。
'Oh。'　I　casually　slid　a　lho…stick　from　the　paste…board　tub　I　had　backhanded　from　Tasaera　Ungish's　stateroom。　I　lit　it　and　took　a　deep
drag；　exhaling　the　smoke　towards　the　infernal　casket。　Nayl　had　injected　me　with　powerful　anti…intoxicants　and　counter…opiate　drugs
just　half　an　hour　earlier；　but　I　sat　back　and　openly　seemed　to　relish　the　smoke。
'Is　that　a　lho…stick？'
'Yes；　Pontius。'
'Hmmm…'
'You　were　saying？'
'Is　it　good？'
'You　were　saying？'
'I…　I've　told　you　of　my　slip。　My　crossing　of　the　line。　What　else　do　you　want　of　me？'
'The　rest。　You　think　I've　crossed　the　line　too；　don't　you？'
'Yes。　It's　in　your　bearing。　You　seem　like　a　man　who　has　understood　the　wider　significance　of　the　warp。'

'Why　is　that？'
'I　told　you　it　happens　to　all　inquisitors　sooner　or　later。　I　can　imagine　you　as　a　young　man；　stiff　and　puritanical；　in　the　scholam。　It　must
have　seemed　so　simple　to　you　back　then。　The　light　and　the　dark。'
'Not　so　obvious　these　days。'
'Of　course　not。　Because　the　warp　is　in　everything。　It　is　there　even　in　the　most　ordered　things　you　do。　Life　would　be　brittle　and
flavourless　without　it。'
'Like　your　life　is　now？'　I　suggested；　and　took　another　sip。
'Damn　you！'
'According　to　you；　I'm　already　damned。'
'Everyone　is　damned。　Mankind　is　damned。　The　whole　human　species。　Chaos　and　death　are　the　only　real　truths　of　reality。　To　believe
otherwise　is　ignorance。　And　the　Inquisition…　so　proud　and　dutiful　and　full　of　its　own　importance；　so　certain　that　it　is　fighting　against
Chaos…　is　the　most　ignorant　thing　of　all。　Your　daily　work　brings　you　closer　and　closer　to　the　warp；　increases　your　understanding　of
orderless　powers。　Gradually；　without　noticing　it；　even　the　most　puritanical　and　rod…stiff　inquisitor　becomes　seduced。'
'I　don't　agree。'
Pontius's　mood　seemed　to　have　brightened　now　we　were　engaged　in　debate　again。　'The　first　step　is　the　knoust
understand　the　basic　traits　of　Chaos　in　order　to　fight　it。　In　a　few　years；　he　knows　more　about　the　warp　than　most　untutored　cultists。
Then　the　second　step：　the　moment　he　breaks　the　rales　and　allows　some　aspect　of　Chaos　to　survive　or　remain　so　that　he　can　study　it　and
learn　from　it。　I　wouldn't　even　bother　trying　to　deny　that　one；　Eisenhorn。　'I'm　right　here；　aren't　I？'
'You　are。　But　understanding　is　essential。　Even　a　puritan　will　tell　you　that！　Without　it；　the　Inquisition's　struggle　is　hopeless。'
'Don't　get　me　started　on　that；'　he　chuckled。　Then　paused。　'Describe　the　taste　of　that　amasec　in　your　mouth。　The　quality；　the　scent。'
'Why？'
'It　is　three　hundred　years　since　I　have　tasted　anything。　Smelt　anything。　Touched　anything。'
I　had　feared　my　gambit　with　the　amasec　and　the　opiate　too　obvious；　but　it　had　drawn　him　in。　'It　feels　like　oil　on　my　tongue；　soft；　bodyheat。
The　aroma　precedes　the　taste；　like　peat　and　pepper；　spiced。　The　taste　is　a　burn　in　the　throat　that　lights　a　fire　behind　my　heart。'
The　casket　made　a　long；　mournful　sound　of　tantalised　regret。
'The　third　step？'　I　prompted。
'The　third　step…　the　third　step　is　the　line　itself。　es　a　radical。　When　he　chooses　to　use　Chaos　against　Chaos。
When　he　employs　the　agencies　of　the　warp。　When　he　asks　the　heretical　for　help。'
'I　see。'
'I'm　sure　you　do。　So…　are　you　going　to　ask　me　to　help　you？'
'Yes。　Will　you　give　me　that　help？'
'It　depends；'　the　casket　murmured。　'What's　in　it　for　me？'
I　stubbed　out　the　lho…stick。　'Given　what　you've　just　said；　I　assume　your　reward　would　be　the　satisfaction　of　seeing　me　cross　that　line
and　damn　myself。'
'Ha　ha！　Very　clever！　I'm　enjoying　that　part　already。　What　else？'
I　turned　the　glass　in　my　hand；　swilling　the　amber　spirit　around。　'Magos　Bure　is　a　talented　man。　A　master　of　machinery。　Though　I
would　never　release　you　from　imprisonment；　I　could　perhaps　ask　him　for　a　favour。'
'A　favour？'　Pontius　echoed　with　trembling　anticipation。
'A　body　for　you。　A　servitor　chassis。　The　ability　to　walk；　reach；　hold；　see。　Perhaps　even　the　finessing　extras　of　sense　actuators：
rudimentary　touch；　smell；　taste。　That　would　be　child's　play　for　him。'
'Gods　of　the　warp！'　he　whispered。
'Well？'
'Ask。　Ask　me。　Ask　me；　Eisenhorn。'
'Let　us　talk　for　a　while…　on　the　subject　of　daemonhosts。'
'DO　YOU　KNOW　what　you're　doing？'　Fischig　said　to　me。
'Of　course；'　I　said。　We　had　taken　over　the　security　office　in　Cinchare　minehead　as　our　base。　Bequin　and　Aemos　had　set　the　place
straight　and　got　it　running　properly；　and　Medea；　Inshabel；　Nayl　and　Fischig　patrolled　the　area　regularly。　Bure　had　provided　servitorstalkers
as　additional　guards；　and　a　vox…uplink　had　been　established　with　the　orbiting　Essene　to　forewarn　us　of　any　arriving　space
traffic。
It　was　late　one　afternoon　in　the　third　week　of　our　visit　to　the　mining　rock。　I　had　just　returned　from　my　daily　visit　to　Glaw's　cell　in　the
Mechanicus　annex　and　I　stood　with　Fischig　by　the　windows　of　the　office；　looking　down　into　the　plaza。
'Really　sure？'　he　pressed。
'I　seem　to　remember　him　asking　us　the　same　thing　when　we　sprang　him　from　the　Carnificina；'　said　Bequin；　coming　over　to　join　us。
'Thanks　to　Osma　and　his　ridiculous　witch…hunt；　we've　been　forced　into　a　corner。　If　we　can　come　through　this　successfully；　we　will
redeem　ourselves。'
Fischig　snorted。　'I　just　don't　like　it。　Not　dealing　with　that　butcher。　Not　promising　him　anything。　I　feel　like　we've　crossed　the　line—'
'What？'　I　asked　sharply。　I　had　told　them　only　the　very　sparest　details　of　my　conversations。
'I　said　I　felt　like　we'd　crossed　the　line。　What's　the　matter？'
I　shook　my　head。　'Nothing。　How　are　the　rest　of　the　preparations　going？'

I　sensed　Fischig　wanted　to　have　it　out；　but　it　was　really　too　late　for　that。　I　deflected　him　with　the　subject　change。
'Your　magos　friend　is　working。　Nayl　took　him　the　blade　yesterday　and　showed　him　your　notes　and　diagrams；'　he　said。
'The　communiques　are　all　written；　encrypted　and　sealed；　ready　to　be　sent；'　said　Bequin。　'Just　give　the　word；　and　Ungish　will　transmit
them。　And　I　have　the　declaration　here。'　She　handed　me　a　data…slate。
It　was　a　carta　extremis　formally　declaring　Quixos　Heretic　and　Extremis　Diabolus；　naming　his　crimes　and　given　in　my　authority。　It　was
dated　the　twentieth　day　of　the　tenth　month；　340。M41。　There　was　no　location　of　issue；　but　Aemos　had　made　certain　all　the　other
particulars　were　phrased　precisely　according　to　High　Imperial　Law　and　the　statutes　of　the　Inquisition。
'Good。　We'll　send　that　in　a　few　days。'　I　knew　that　the　moment　the　carta　was　published；　my　agenda　would　be　known。　The　scheme　I　was
embarking　on　might　take　years　to　complete；　and　all　that　time　I　would　be　hunted。　I　really　didn't　want　to　stir　things　up　so　soon。
'How　much　longer　will　we　be　here？'　Bequin　asked。
'I　don't　know。　Another　week？　A　month？　Longer？　It　depends　on　how　forthcoming　Glaw　decides　to　be。'
'But　you've　got　things　from　him　already？'　asked　Fischig。
'Yes。'　Not　too　much；　I　hoped。
I　WALKED　THROUGH　the　empty　streets　of　the　minehead　for　an　hour　or　two　that　evening　to　clear　my　mind。　I　knew　damn　well　that　I　was
choosing　a　dangerous　path。　I　had　to　remain　focussed　or　I　risked　losing　control。
Once　I'd　got　the　upper　hand　with　Glaw；　I'd　been　playing　with　him　during　those　early　conversations。　His　talk　of　the　line；　his　three…step
description　of　the　corruption　that　awaited　an　imprudent　inquisitor…　that　was　nothing　new　to　me。　I　had　indulged　him　so　that　he　might
feel　superior　and　smug。　Any　inquisitor　worth　the　rosette　knew　the　perils　and　temptations　that　surrounded　him。
But　it　didn't　stop　his　words　from　cutting　me。　Every　puritanical　Commodus　Voke　was　a　potential　Quixos。　When　Glaw　said　that　the　line
was　often　crossed　without　it　being　recognised；　he　was　right。　I'd　met　enough　radicals　to　know　that。
I　had　always；　always　prided　myself　on　my　puritanical　stance；　moderate　and　Amalathian　though　it　might　be。　I　deplored　the　radical
heresies。　That's　why　I　wanted　Quixos。
But　I　worried　still。　I　considered　what　I　was　doing　to　be　risky；　of　course；　but　also　pragmatic　given　my　difficult　situation。　To　destroy
Quixos；　I　had　to　get　past　his　daemonhosts；　and　that　required　power；　knowledge　and　expertise。　And　I　could　no　longer　turn　to　the　Holy
Inquisition　for　support。　But　had　I　crossed　the　line？　Was　I　becoming　guilty　of　sins　that　could　so　easily　escalate　into　radical
abomination？　Was　I　so　obsessed　with　bringing　Quixos　to　justice　that　I　was　abandoning　my　own　principles？
I　was　sure　I　was　not。　I　knew　what　I　was　doing；　and　I　was　taking　every　precaution　I　could　to　manage　the　more　dangerous　elements　I
was　employing。　I　was　pure　and　true；　even　now。
And　if　I　wasn't；　how　could　I　tell？
I　CLIMBED　AN　observation　mast　that　rose　above　the　mine　settlement　and　lingered　for　a　while　in　the　caged　glass　blister　at　the　top；
looking　out　across　the　town's　skyline　to　the　ragged　blue　landscape　of　Cinchare；　and　the　gliding　stars　beyond　it。　Shoals　of　meteors
burned　bright　lines　down　the　sky。
There　was　a　noise　on　the　stairs　behind　me。　It　was　Nayl。
He　put　away　his　sidearm。　'It's　you；'　he　said；　joining　me　in　the　blister。　'I　was　patrolling　and　I　saw　the　tower　door　open。　'Everything　all
right？'
I　nodded。　'You　fight　dirty　sometimes；　don't　you；　Harlon？'
He　looked　at　me　quizzically　and　scratched　his　shaved　scalp。　'Not　sure　I　know　what　you　mean；　boss；'　he　said。
'All　those　years；　bounty　hunting…　and　I've　seen　you　fight；　remember？　Sometimes　you　have　to　break　the　rales　to　win。'
'I　suppose　so。　When　all's　said　and　done；　you　use　whatever　works。　I'm　not　proud　of　some　of　my　more…　ruthless　moments。　But　they're
necessary。　I've　always　been　of　the　opinion　that　fairplay　is　overrated。　The　bastard　trying　to　skin　you　won't　be　playing　fair；　that's　for
sure。　You　do　what　you　have　to　do。'
'The　end　justifies　the　means？'
He　raised　his　eyebrows　and　laughed。　'Now　that's　different。　That　kind　of　thinking　gets　a　man　into　trouble。　There　are　some　means　that　no
end　will　ever　justify。　But　fighting　dirty；　occasionally；　is　no　bad　thing。　Neither's　breaking　the　rules。　Provided　you　remember　one　thing。'
'Which　is？'
'You　have　to　understand　the　rales　in　the　first　place　if　you're　going　to　break　them。'
APART　FROM　MY　daily　visits　to　Glaw　in　the　annex；　I　also　spent　time　with　Bure。　He　was　labouring　in　his　workshops；　assisted　by
servitors　and　his　tech…adepts。　He　had　thrown　himself　totally　into　the　tasks　I　had　set　him。　Though　he　never　said；　I　think　he　saw　it　as
returning　with　interest　my　efforts　in　the　battle　with　the　Lith。
He　had　also　listened　without　alarm　when　Aemos　and　I　had　related　the　history　of　the　recent　past。　It　felt　like　a　confession。　I　explained
the　carta　out　against　me；　my　rogue　status。　He　had　accepted　my　innocence　without　question。　As　he　put　it；　'Hapshant　wouldn't　have
raised　a　radical。　It's　the　rest　of　the　galaxy　that's　wrong。'
That　was　good　enough　for　him。　I　oved。
One　day　in　the　sixth　week　of　our　increasingly　prolonged　stay；　he　called　me　to　his　workshop。
It　lay　beneath　the　main　chapel　of　the　annex　and　was　two　storeys　deep；　a　veritable　smithy　alive　with　engineering　machines　and
apparatus　the　purposes　of　which　baffled　me。　Steam…presses　hammered　and　banged；　and　screy　own

projects；　there　was　much　work　to　do　repairing　the　annex　and　the　translithopede。　I　walked　down　through　the　swathes　of　steam　and
found　Bure　supervising　two　servitors　who　were　machining　symbols　into　a　two…metre　long　pole　of　composite　steel。
'Eisenhorn；'　he　said；　raising　his　bright　green　eye…lights　to　look　at　me。
'How　goes　the　work？'
'I　feel　like　a　warsmith；　back　in　the　foundries　of　the　forge　worlds；　when　I　was　flesh。　The　specifications　you　have　asked　for　are　difficult；
but　not　impossible。　I　enjoy　a　challenge。'
I　took　several　sheets　of　paper　from　my　coat　pocket　and　handed　them　to　him。　'More　notes；　taken　during　my　last　interview　with　Glaw。
I've　underlined　the　key　remarks。　Here；　he　suggests　electrum　for　the　cap　piece。'
'I　was　going　to　use　iron；　or　an　iron　alloy。　Electrum。　That　makes　sense。'　He　took　my　notes　over　to　a　raised　planning　table　that　was
littered　easuring　tools　and　data…slates。　Pages　of　notes　that　I　had　already　provided　him　with　were　piled　up；
along　with　the　psychomet…rically　captured　images　Ungish　had　drawn　from　my　mind　of　the　Cadian　pylons；　Cherubael；　Prophaniti；　and
the　ornaments　he　had　worn。
'I'm　also　pondering　the　lodestone　for　the　cap。　I　considered　pyraline　or　one　of　the　other　tele…empathic　crystallines　like　epidotrichite；　but
I　doubt　any　of　them　would　have　the　durability　for　your　purposes。　Certainly　not　for　more　than　one　or　two　uses。　I　also　thought　of　tabular
zanthroclase。'
'What's　that？'
'A　silicate　we　use　in　mind…impulse　devices。　But　I'm　not　convinced。　I　have　a　few　other　possibilities　in　mind。'　It　was　a　measure　of　the
trust　Bure　showed　me　that　he　felt　he　could　mention　such　Cult　Mechanicus　secrets　so　freely。　I　felt　honoured。
'Here's　the　haft；'　he　said；　showing　me　to　the　etching　bench　where　the　two　servitors　were　machining　the　decoration　of　the　long　pole。
'Steel？'
'Superficially。　There's　a　titanium　core　surrounded　by　an　adamantium　sleeve　under　the　steel　jacket。　The　titanium　is　drilled　with
channels　that　carry　the　conductive　lapidorontium　wires。'
'It　looks　perfect；'　I　said。
'It　is　perfect。　Virtually　perfect。　It's　machined　to　within　a　nanometre　of　your　measurements。　Let　me　show　you　the　sword。'
I　followed　him　to　a　workbench　at　the　far　end　of　the　smithy　where　the　sword　lay　on　a　rest　under　a　dust　sheet。
'What　do　you　think？'　he　asked；　drawing　the　cloth　back。
Barbarisater　was　as　beautiful　as　I　remembered　it。　I　admired　the　fresh　pentagrammatic　wards　that　had　been　etched　in　the　blade　since　I
had　last　seen　it；　ten　on　each　side。
'It　is　a　remarkable　artifact。　I　was　almost　unwilling　to　make　the　alterations　you　requested。　As　it　was；　I　wore　out　eight　adamantium　drill
bits　on　this　side　alone。　The　hardened　steel　skin　of　the　blade　around　the　solid　core　has　been　folded　and　beaten　nine　hundred　times。　It　is
beyond　anything