As with the various properties I owned, I had resources under other identities. 'Gorton Eising' had several holdings with the Imperial Thracian treasury, with enough funds for my current needs.
I had set up the confidential message service many years before so that I could send and receive messages without using my real identity. It was essentially an automatically maintained mailbox account that I could access, using an astropath, from any location. 1 could send messages through it, and read any communiques that had been posted to it. The service was registered under the name Aegis'.
When Cielo accessed the Aegis account, there were no communiques waiting to be read. Composing the contents in Glossia, I had Cielo send warning messages to Fischig on Durer, to Messina, to agents of my organisation on Thracian Primaris, Hespems, Sarum and Cartol. I used the signature 'Rosethorn'. I also sent a private, coded, anonymous transmission to a friend outside the Helican sub-sector. It was a single word message that read 'Sanctum'.
I would wait for responses before I contacted my Lord Rorken. I wanted to take things one step at a time. Not for the first time in my career, I wanted to stay out of sight, except to friends.
Of course, even sending communiques in another name was risky. Many or all of the people I was trying to contact might be under surveillance themselves – if they hadn't already been eliminated. But Glossia was a private code. Even if my messages were intercepted, they would be impossible to decipher.
The first responses arrived by noon the next day. Cielo's clerk came up from the Guild House to deliver them.
One was a message from Fischig, in Glossia, that essentially told me he was already en route from Durer and would arrive at Gudrun in about twenty days. I dispatched a reply that emphasised caution and told him to contact me when he was close.
The message 'Sanctum' had been answered with the words 'Sanctum arising, in fifteen'. There was no ident on the communique, and the source was deep space.
The clerk then passed me a data-slate. 'The communiques to Messina, Thracian Primaris, Hesperus and Cartol have all been returned as unde-liverable. That is strange. The message from Hesperus has a statement from the local arbites attached, recommending you get in touch with them directly. There has been no response from Sarum.'
After the clerk had left, I discussed it with Aemos. He was as alarmed as I was. 'Undeliverable? Most perturbatory. And the interest of the arbites is disturbing.'
'What progress with the names?' I asked. He had been at work on Crezia's codifier all morning.
'Nothing. No listing for a Maria Tarray and nothing on any Khanjar the Sharp. A khanjar is a blade weapon, of course. A curved dagger from ancient Terra. The word is occurs in several Imperium cultures.'
'Can you resource further?'
'Not using this machine. But your doctor friend is going to walk me to the universitariate this afternoon and get me access to their main data engines.'
He was gone for hours, until late in the evening. Crezia had teaching duties to perform, and Phabes was all but invisible. I was left alone with Eleena.
I checked the prisoner. He was awake but unresponsive. Crezia had left him a tray of food and some water before leaving, but it was untouched. I tried a few questions but he didn't stir. He was zoned out in a post-interrogation stupor.
Medea was still sleeping, but her life signs was good and there was no trace of post-operative infection. I kissed her forehead gently and went back to the kitchen.
Eleena was seated at the refectory table, one third down a bottle of fine Hesperean claret. Without asking, she fetched me a glass and poured me some.
I sat down with her. The kitchen doors were open, affording us a cool evening breeze and a fine view out over the courtyard to the Itervalle. The mountain was ochre in the setting sun, and even as we watched it gently shifted colour, becoming russet, then almost scarlet, then ultramarine.
'Have you eaten?' Eleena asked.
'No. Have you?'
Tm not very hungry,' she replied, and drank a mouthful of wine.
'I'm sorry, Eleena/1 said.
'Sorry, sir? Why?'
'Sorry that you should be in the middle of all this. It's an unpleasant business and costing us all dear.'
She smiled. 'You got me out of Spaeton alive, sir. For that I'm thankful.'
'I only wish I could have got everyone out alive.'
She shrugged. I could tell she was haunted by the killing she had seen. Sastre's brave sacrifice in particular had scarred her. Eleena Koi was only about twenty-five, just a girl, and a new recruit to the Distaff. She'd not seen any active service in the field yet. She'd been posted to Spaeton as resident untouchable – something the Distaff regarded as an easy job – to get her acclimatised to the work. Some acclimatisation.
'If you'd like to leave, I think that would be all right. I could arrange some adequate papers, some money. You could get off-world, to safety.'
Eleena looked almost offended. 'I am a contracted untouchable in the pay of the Distaff, sir. Perhaps, Emperor bless me, the last one alive. I knew service to an inquisitor would be dangerous when I started. I'm under no illusions/
'Even so-'
'No, sir. I'm strong enough for this. It may be extreme, but it's what I was hired to do. Besides…'
'Besides what?'
'Well, for one thing, we know that the enemy has at least one powerful psyker in his pay. That means you'll need an untouchable/
'True/
'And… I think I'd feel safer sticking with you, sir. If I went off on my own, I'd be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life/
'Thank you, Eleena. You could stop calling me 'sir' now, though. If what we've been through these last few days can't be counted as a bonding process, I don't know what can/
'Right/ she smiled. It was a change to see a smile on her face. She was tall and overly thin, in my opinion, always seeming edgy and nervous. The smile suited her.
Neither of us said anything for a few moments.
'So, what should I call you?' she asked eventually.
We chatted idly for a while longer, until the Itervalle had become black and the sky Imperial blue. The stars were out.
'Do we have a plan?' she asked.
Theoretically, we find out who is set so murderously against us and hunt him down. Practically, that means staying here, out of sight, for a while at least, then getting off planet/
'How long for that, do you think?'
'My preferred means of planet exit will be available in fifteen days/
She refilled our glasses. 'I like that. I like it when you sound like everything's under control/
'So do I/ I chuckled.
'So… once we're off-planet, what then? Practically speaking?'
'It depends on a few things. What we manage to turn up in the next two weeks. Whether I dare correspond with the ordos/
'You don't think the Inquisition is involved, do you?'
'Not at all/ I replied. It wasn't a lie, because I was sure we weren't in conflict
