Once Begundi had reached him, Fischig slipped inside the longhouse. There was a pause, and then Begundi went in too.
We waited.
Begundi appeared in the doorway and beckoned to us.
It was good to be out of the damp, though the dark, rot-stinking interior of the old prefab barrack wasn't much better. We got inside, and Haar and Kara stood guard at the doorway, with Begundi covering the front.
Fischig had found something.
Fischig had found someone.
It was an old man. Filthy, wizened, lice-ridden and diseased. He cowered in the corner, whining each time the beam of Fischig's hand-lamp probed at him. If I'd passed him on the streets of Eriale, I'd have taken him for a beggar and not given him a second look. Out here, though, it was different.
'Give me the lamp/ I said. The old man, who seemed more animal than human, shrank back as I turned the hard white light on him. He was caked in filth, starving and gripped by fear.
But despite the dirt, I could recognise his robes.
'Father? Father hierarch?'
He moaned.
'Father, we're friends.' I unclasped my rosette and held it out to show him.
'I am Inquisitor Gregor Eisenhorn, Ordo Xenos Helican. We are here in an official capacity. Don't be afraid.'
He looked at me, blinking and slowly reached out a dirt-blackened hand towards the rosette. I let him take it. He looked at it for a long time, his hands trembling. Then he started to weep.
I waved Fischig and the others back and knelt down beside him.
What's your name?'
'D-Dronicus/
'Dronicus?'
'Pater Hershel Dronicus, hierarch of the parish of Miquol, blessed be the God- Emperor of Mankind.'
The God-Emperor protects us all/ I answered. 'Can you tell me how you come to be here, father?'
I've always been here/ he replied. 'The soldiers may have gone, but while there is a chapel here, there is a parish, and so long as there is a parish then there is a priest/
By the Golden Throne, this old fellow had lived here alone for thirty years, maintaining the chapel.
They never deconsecrated the ground?'
'No, sir. And I am thankful. My duty to the parish has given me time to think/
'Go mad, more like/ Haar muttered.
'Enough!' I snapped over my shoulder.
'Let me see if I understand this right/1 said to Dronicus. You served here as a priest and when the PDF abandoned the site, you stayed on and looked after the chapel?'
Yes, sir, that is the sum of it/
'What did you live on?' asked Fischig. That detective brain, looking for holes in the story.
'Fish/ he said. From his astonishingly foul breath, I believed that.
'Fish… I went down to the landing point once a week and fished, smoking and storing the catch in the hangar. Besides, the soldiers left a lot of canned produce. Why? Are you hungry?'
'No/ said Fischig, unprepared for the generosity of the question.
'Why are you hiding in here?' Bequin asked softly.
Dronicus looked at me as if needing my permission to answer.
'Go ahead/ I nodded.
They drove me out/ he said. 'Out of my hangar. They were mean. They tried to kill me, but I can ran, you know!'
'I have no doubt.'
'Why did they drive you out?' Fischig asked.
'They wanted the hangar. I think they wanted my fish.'
'I'm sure they did. Smoked fish, that's worth something out here. But they wanted something else, didn't they?'
He nodded, a bleak look on his face. 'They wanted the space.'
What for?'
'For their work.'
'What work?'
'They are mending their god.'
I glanced sidelong at Fischig.
'Their god? What god is that?'
'Not mine, that's for sure!' Dronicus exclaimed. Then he suddenly looked reflective. 'But it's a god, nevertheless/
Why do you say that?' I asked.
'It's big. Gods are big. Aren't they?'
'Usually/
You said 'they',' said Rassi, crouching down next to me. Who do you mean? How many of them are there?'
Rassi's tone was admirably calm and reassuring, and I could feel the gentle bow-wake of the psychic influence he was cautiously bringing to bear. No wonder he had such a great reputation. I almost felt stupid for not asking such obvious questions.
The god-smiths/ the old priest replied. 'I do not know their names. There are nine of them. And also die other nine. And the fourteen others. And the other five/
Thirty-seven?' breathed Fischig.
Dronicus screwed up his face. 'Oh, there's a lot more than that. Nine and nine and fourteen and five and ten and three and sixteen…'
Rassi looked at me. 'Dementia/ he whispered. 'He's able to account for them only in the groups he's seen them. He's not capable of identifying a whole. They are just numbers of people that he's seen at various times/
'I'm not stupid/ cut in Dronicus simply.
'I never said you were, father/ Rassi replied.
'I'm not mad either/
'Of course/
The old man smiled and nodded and then, very directly, asked, 'Do you have any fish?'
'Boss!' Haar hissed suddenly. I rose quickly.
'What is it?'
'Movement… thirty metres…' His fore-sight was twitching as it downloaded the data. He knelt in the doorway and eased his rifle up to a firing position.
'What do you see?'
Trouble. Eight men, armed, moving like an infantry formation. Coming this way/
We must have tripped something on the way in/ said Begundi.
'I don't want a fight. Not yet/1 looked at the others. 'Let's exit that way and regroup/
