advise you that the Ordo Malleus might be scrutinising you/
A second warning in twelve hours.
'I'd like to suggest you leave Thracian and get on with other work until the matter blows over/ he said. 'But your presence is required for the Apotropaic Congress/
Pieces now fell into place. The sheer scale of the triumph celebrations, the magnitude of the Novena, were appropriate enough, but the number of senior inquisitors summoned to attend was heavy handed to say the least. Military and Ecclesiarch luminaries may be ordered around to swell such events, but inquisitors are a different breed, more aloof, more… independent. It is unusual for us to be called together in any great gathering, particularly by such incontestable orders. I had presumed Orsini was throwing his weight around to impress the Lord Commander Helican.
But that was not the case. There was to be an Apotropaic Congress. That is why we had been called here.
Apotropaic studies are conducted all the time by the Inquisition, and usually involve one or perhaps as many as three inquisitors. On a larger scale, they are named Councils, and require a quorum of at least eleven inquisitors. Larger than that, they become a Congress. Such assemblies are extremely rare. I knew for a fact that my late master Hapshant had served on the last such Congress held in the sub-sector. That was two hundred and seventy-nine years in the past.
The purpose of these studies, even at their smallest level, is the acute examination and assessment of unusually valuable captives. Once in the custody of the Inquisition, a rogue psyker, a charismatic heretic, an alien warlord… whatever… undergoes a sometimes lengthy formal examination quite separate from the dissection of his or her actual crimes. They are often already condemned and only waiting for sentence to be carried out. At that stage, the Inquisition wishes to expand its own learning, to understand more precisely the nature of the enemies of mankind. The subjects are dissected, usually intellectually, sometimes psychically and occasionally literally, in order to discover their strengths, weaknesses, beliefs and drives. Vital truths have in this way been discovered by Apotropaic councils, truths that have armoured the servants of the Imperium for later
clashes. To illustrate, the Imperial Guard's famous victory over the Ezzel meta- breed was only successful thanks to methods of detecting their presence discovered by the examination of an Ezzel scoutform by die Apotropaic Council of Adiemus Ultima in 883.M40.
The size of the inquiry depends on the number or magnitude of the subject.
'Thirty-three heretic psykers of level alpha or above were captured by the Warmaster at Dolsene, during the final major engagement of the Ophidian Suppression/ Rorken told me, showing me a data-slate. The security clearance on the slate was so high that even I was impressed. 'Trained, somehow, to control and master the warp-spawned filth they channel, they formed the backbone of the Enemy's high command defence, the beating heart of the adversary.'
'How were they taken? Alive, I mean?' It was astonishing. Untrained psykers are terrifying enough, their minds always carrying the horrendous potential to open up a gate into the immaterium, to let its daemons flood through into our universe. But these… these fiends, they had somehow learnt – or been trained – to focus their warp-spawned talents, to contain the daemons within themselves and use their damnable strenguh. My mind reeled at the threat they had posed, and posed still, though they were our prisoners.
Rorken gestured to the slate in my hands. 'You'll find a summary of the incident there, appended to the main list. In brief, it was luck… luck, and the amazing courage of the Adeptus Astartes, working in conjunction with Inquisitors Heldane, Lyko and Voke.'
Voke… Commodus Voke.'
'I forgot, you're old friends, aren't you? He was involved with the Glaw affair on Gudran, just before the Schism/
'Old friends is probably pushing it. We worked together. We generated a mutual respect. I've seen him infrequently since then. I'm amazed the old dog is still alive/
Alive, despite the prognoses of several generations of medicae experts. And still powerful. To achieve mis, in his twilight years…'
I nodded. Even a speed-reading of the incident suggested an act of near mythical valour. Voke's service to the Emperor was, as ever, above and beyond any reasonable expectation of duty.
'I know Heldane too. He was Voke's pupil. So he's finally made it to inquisitor rank too?'
'For sixty years now… Eisenhorn, you lead a solitary life, don't you?'
'If you mean I don't keep up with the comings and goings of elections and the businesses of other inquisitors, sir, yes. I do. I focus on my work, and the needs of my staff/
He smiled, as if indulging me. In truth, my attitude was not uncommon. As I have said, we of the Inquisition are an aloof, independent kind, and have little interest in the affairs of our colleagues. I saw another difference between myself and Rorken. Whatever my seniority, I was still an agent of
the field, a worker, an achiever, who might be gone into the distant gulfs of the Halo Stars for months or even years at a time. His rank tied him to his palace, and wrapped him in the intrigues and mechanisms of the Imperial ruling classes in general and the Inquisition in particular.
I remembered Commodus Voke as a poisonous old viper, but a determined ally. During the affair of the Necroteuch, believing himself to be on his deathbed, he had implored me to stand reference for his pupil Heldane. I had promised him that, though when Voke then proceeded to stay alive, I had never followed it through. He had been around to see that Heldane got his rosette.
Heldane… I had never liked him at all.
I'd never met Lyko, the third member of the glorious trio, but I knew him by reputation as an inquisitor whose star was very much in the ascendant. Their spectacular achievement on Dolsene would further all their careers magnificently.
I read through the list of inquisitors summoned to form the Council, a list which included my name. There were sixty in all. Titus Endor was amongst them. So was Osma, and so was Bezier. Some names, like Schon-gard, Hand and Reiker, leapt out as men I had little wish to be in the same room with. Others – Endor, naturally, and Shilo, Defay and Cuvier – were individuals it would be a pleasure to see again.
Some names I'd barely heard of, or never heard of at all; others were famous or infamous inquisitors who I knew only by reputation. It was quite an assembly, drawn from all over the sector.
'My inclusion on this list?' I began.
'Is no surprise. You are a senior and respected member of our office/
Thank you, sir. But I wonder, did Voke request me personally?'
'He was going to/ Rorken told me, 'but you had already been nominated/
'By whom?'
'Inquisitor Osma/ he replied.
FIVE
The Triumph.
At the Spatian Gate.
The line breaks.
For all my condemnations of the overzealous pageantry of the Novena, I will admit that the Great Triumph of the first day filled me with a sense of pride and exhilaration.
Across Hive Primaris, the largest and most powerful hive on Thracian, dawn brought a chorus of klaxons and a cacophony of bells. Ministoram services, relayed live from the Monument of the Ecclesiarch, were broadcast on every crackling pict channel and public vox service. The phlegmy intonations of Cardinal Palatine Anderucias rolled across the street levels of the great hive city, overlapping like some gigantic choral round due to the echoes of doppler distortion.
Civilians and pilgrims flooded into the streets of Hive Primaris in their millions, clogging the arterial routes and feeder tunnels, and blackening the sky with their craft. Many were turned back to surrounding hives to watch the proceedings on vast hololithic screens raised in stadiums and amphitheatres for the event.
The arbites struggled to control the flow of people and keep the route of the
