in the strangest forms. Dronicus, old, insane Dronicus, had clearly been observing the day's dreadful events from hiding, and now he emerged because he had made a gravely mistaken apprehension. He had seen the white light of the daemon destroy the Titan. To him, therefore, the white light was a friend because it had vanquished a foe.
To him, the potent white light was the Emperor returned to save him.
He ran out of the shadows, calling the Emperor's name, praising him, piteously expressing his gratitude. He was an ancient, emaciated man dressed in dirt and rags. He should have offered no threat to the daemon whatsoever.
Except that, in the Emperor's honour, he had retrieved the fallen aquila altarpiece from the chapel and was holding it up in front of him.
Cherubael howled and backed away, tumbling like thistledown along the dirt track between the longhouses. Perplexed, Dronicus ran after it, offering words of worship to the Emperor that must have driven holy spikes into Cherubael's rotten soul.
I had a moment's respite from the assault.
I looked around. I knew I had to think fast.
Bastian Verveuk was still alive. He was a bloody, broken mess, his clothes and hair virtually burned off him from the cutter's death-blast. Though I loathed him for what he had done, I felt pity as I saw him. His eyes were still yearning. They seemed to light up with joy as they saw me approach. He reached out a bloody hand.
He thought I was coming to rescue him.
I confess here, now, that I hate myself for what I did. That I despised Verveuk does not excuse it. He was an odious wretch who had cost me more dearly than I could say, but he was still a servant of the Inquisition. And, damn him, he worshipped and trusted me.
But there was no alternative. I made the right decision. I had released Cherubael because
I knelt beside him. His yearning face looked up at me. Damn that yearning, puppy look!
'M-master…'
'Bastian, are you a true servant of the Emperor?'
'I… I am…'
'And you will so serve him in any way you can?'
'I will, master.'
'And are you pure?' Foolish question! Verveuk's damned purity had led to all his mistakes. His puritanical piety had made him a liability in the first place.
But he was pure. As pure as any man could be.
I placed my hand on his chest and made my fingers wet with his blood. Then I daubed certain runes and markings on his forehead and face, on his neck and his heart, muttering seldom heard imprecations from the
'W-what are you doing?' he wavered. Damned questions, even now!
'What must be done. You are doing the Emperor's work, Bastian.'
A scream howled out of the station and Dronicus appeared, running terrified towards the lake. His hands were on fire, dripping with white-hot, molten metal.
Cherubael had finally found the strength to melt the aquila.
Still screaming, the poor old man plunged into the icy lake, the water steaming and spitting around his agonised hands.
Chembael's deadly star came shimmering down the beach towards me.
'Forgive me, Verveuk/ I said.
'O-of course, master/ he mumbled.
'F-for what?' he added, suddenly.
Bellowing the incantations of binding, the litany of servitus, the wards of entrapment, I met Cherubael head on, the runestaff glittering with power.
'What in the name of hell happened here?' Fischig bellowed, his gun raised as he ran down towards me.
'Everything. Nothing. It's over, Fischig.'
'But… what is that?' he asked.
The daemonhost floated a few centimetres off the ground next to me. I had fashioned a leash from my belt, tied off around Verveuk's scorched, distended throat.
'I have trapped a daemon, Godwin. He is bound and cannot harm us now.'
'But… Verveuk?'
'Dead. We must honour him. He has given his all to the Emperor.'
Fischig looked at me warily. 'How did you know the means to bind a daemon, Eisenhorn?' he asked.
'I have learned much. It is an inquisitor's job to know these things.'
Fischig took a step back. Verveuk. /he began. 'He was dead before you used his body, wasn't he?'
I didn't answer. Three shuttles were powering in across the lake, preparing for landing. The reinforcements summoned by Alizebeth had finally arrived.
SEVEN
Taking leave of Miquol. Gudran, sanctuary. Her heart's desire.
Iwanted nothing more than to be gone from the place. it had exhausted me and cost me.
My followers, well-drilled specialists all, deployed from the shuttles and took control of the area, rounding up the last of Thuring's dismayed accomplices. I was told that Menderef and Koth were on their way too, bringing with them units of militia and Inquisitorial guard.
I wasn't going to wait around for them.
There were things I wanted as few people as possible to see.
I issued instructions that would bite great holes out of my personal coffers. But I didn't care.
I sent Bequin away on a shuttle as fast as possible, with Nayl and Begundi guarding her.
Nayl was told to get her condition stabilised at the nearest general infirmary and then arrange passage for her off-world, to the Distaffs headquarters on Messina. They took Kara Swole with them too. Kara was alive, but seriously wounded.
I gave Fischig strict instructions to remain behind as my proxy. His heart didn't seem in it. I knew the daemonhost was troubling him more than he dared to say.
His brief was simple. Secure the island until the main Inquisitorial Party arrived. See to it that a full statement was made and that the cache
of dormant Chaos Titans was destroyed. Then formally close the Examination until further notice.
It didn't seem unreasonable. A senior inquisitor had just risked all and lost much stopping a Battle Titan. His withdrawal from the Durer Examination for recovery seemed utterly justified.
I would contact him later, and take it from there.
I was about to leave on another of the shuttles, with the silent, shrouded daemonhost, when the first piece of good news that day came to my attention.
