I knew what Fischig meant. Heldane would have opposed this mission without question, and taken great delight in bringing me in, dead or alive. Voke had clearly come here without his old pupil knowing. Fischig was right. That was a good sign.
'Endor, well, he's safe, isn't he?' said Fischig. 'Given your history, he'd have come anyway/
'It's good to have him here. What about Ricci?'
Fischig's voice suddenly dropped to a hiss. 'Speaking of whom/
He withdrew. Clutching a goblet of wine, Ricci walked out of the archway behind us and joined me, gazing up at the staggeringly bright star-field.
'I hope you realise how lucky you are/ Ricci said.
'Every day/
You took a risk contacting Lord Rorken. He's always liked you, but given the current climate, liking you is a dangerous habit. He was at loggerheads with Bezier and Orsini over your case/
'And still he sent you?'
'Let me be direct, Gregor. I think it will help. Lord Rorken, may his fortunes multiply in the face of the God-Emperor, sent me to assist you in the unmasking and destruction of the heretic Quixos. But if, along the way, I should discover anything that confirmed the generally-believed allegations of your own heresy…'
What?'
'I think you understand/
You're his hatchet man. You'll help me… but if I cross the line in your eyes, Rorken has sanctioned you to execute me/
He raised his glass. 'I think we know where we stand/ We did. Now it made much more sense that Rorken had sent so senior an agent to my side. I said nothing. Ricci smiled and went back inside.
We sat down around the table again and debated some more. I found most of the questions – especially those from Voke and Ricci – wilfully small-minded.
At last, after another hour, Grumman voiced a pertinent query.
'Supposing we agree to this. Agree that Eisenhom is wrongly charged and that Quixos deserves our sternest censure… how do we do that? Do we know where Quixos is?'
Yes/ I said, though I didn't know the answer myself. My people had enjoyed the best part of two years to do their work, many dozens of agents sifting data from hundreds of worlds.
Unbidden, Bequin stepped forward and took a seat with us at the table.
About three months ago, our research discerned a pattern in the data surrounding the near-mythical life of Quixos. And that pattern centred on Maginor/
'Capital of the Niaides sub-sector, Viceroy sector, Ultima segmentum/ announced Voke.
Your astronomical knowledge is humbling, sir/ Bequin said smoothly. She handed out data-slates.
'As you can see from the file of data marked 'alpha', Quixos certainly visited Maginor almost two hundred years ago, and became involved with a cartel of trade interests and noble families known as the Mystic Path. The Path was a network which was already utilising prohibited and forbidden lore and technologies. Quixos should have closed them down and burned them. It is clear he did not. Instead, he fed and supported them. He nurtured them until they became a power base for his invisible empire of dark belief. No longer a cartel but a cult. A cult of Quixos/
Ч^Ъу do we mink he's still there?' asked Ricci.
We think he's made his hidden fastness there, sir/ said Bequin. The reaches of the Mystic Path now spread throughout the segmentum and beyond. Maginor is its heart. In 239.M41, Inquisitor Lugenbrau and a warrior band numbering some sixty individuals disappeared on Maginor. No trace of them was ever found, though Interrogator Inshabel was able to… ah… recover an incomplete verbal transcript of a pict- recording apparently made during Lugenbrau's raid/
I speed-read the transcript. It was harrowing. 'You got this from Elvara Cardinal, Inshabel?' I asked.
Inshabel was at the back of the room. He stepped forward, blushing. 'Not directly, sir. It actually came from the inquisitorial data-library on Fibos Secundus. How is a damn good story, but it's probably wasting valuable time to repeat it just now/
Inshabel was right, as I have already said. It was a damn good story, and I enjoyed it when he told it to me later. I urge you to access it.
'We believe Lugenbrau was hunting Quixos, although he may not have known it/ continued Bequin. 'He and his entire band were wiped out by Quixos's forces.'
'Lugenbrau/ murmured Voke, setting his slate down and looking off into space. 'I never met him, but he was a trusted pupil of my late comrade, Inquisitor Pavel Uet. When Lugenbrau went missing, Uet took it hard. The loss shortened his life/
Voke looked at me with his rheumy eyes. 'If I wasn't decided before, Eisenhorn, I am now. Quixos must pay/
'I agree/ said Endor, tossing his slate onto the table and looking grim. 'At the very least, the Inquisition demands vengeance for this/
'Maginor, then?' Grumman asked.
'It's still his base of operations, sir, we are sure of that/ said Bequin. 'And until a week ago, we were all set to prepare for a strike against Maginor. Then we received this/ She held up a astropathic transcript.
'I will read it, if I may/ She carefully put on her half-moon glasses. They suited her, but I knew her vanity made her hate them. It said a lot about the situation that she was willing to wear them in front of these men.
'It begins… 'Gregor, my friend. I have been kept up to date with the data concerning your quarry. It gives me something to do, these winter afternoons. I agree that Maginor may be the seat of the evil, and certainly requires the attention of the Inquisition. But, if you'll pardon me, I suggest that Maginor be left to the Ordos Niaides. Using pointers Aemos gave me, I have assessed the following. My full findings are on the data-files attached below, but in short, I think you should be looking at Farness Beta. Quixos's fascination with the pylons of Cadia made me think, you see.
''See below, that I have traced massive stonecutting orders to the limit-world of Serebos, which lies galactically south of Terra. The masonic guilds of Serebos are famously secretive about their contracts. They provide an inert, obsidian-like black glass-stone called serebite, a beautiful substance that is in high demand right across the Imperium. Serebite is, as far as reckoning goes, as close to the material used on Cadia for the pylons as it is possible to get. As I have said, the masonic guilds are close about their contracts, but there is little hiding the transportation of a massive copy of one of those pylons by shipping guild bulk-lifter. Three-quarters of a kilometre long and a quarter square! Quixos has ordered the manufacture of a perfect copy of the Cadian pylons, and has had it shipped to Farness Beta.''
Bequin paused and looked up at us.
''If you've ever trusted my advice, trust this now,'' she continued. ''Quixos is on Farness. And if you're going to stop him, it must be now. Your devoted friend and pupil. Gideon.''
Gideon. Gideon Ravenor. Crippled as he was, he had found this insight, which totally altered our plan of attack. I was speechless. I felt almost tearful.
There is a postscript/ said Bequin. 'He writes, 'The daemonhosts will be your foullest problem. I know you are prepared, but I send you these. One for each of the twenty you have summoned.''
Bequin took off her half-moon glasses and rose. Nayl brought in a crate and set it down on the table. Inside were twenty scrolls of daemonic protection, each sealed inside a blessed tube of green marble, and twenty consecrated gold amulets of the God-Emperor as a skeletal relic. It was so typical of Ravenor
