with any external agency, but it wasn't entirely the truth either. I had been in the job long enough to know that nothing is out of the question. But there was no point alarming her. 'It's simply that I think our enemy is so well co-ordinated, so well provided, that he's watching everything. If I contact the Inquisition, it could betray us/
I took up my glass and drank a good measure of the fine red wine. 'So, if nothing turns up, when we leave here… it's open. There are places we could run to find security, friends I could call upon. Our best bet might be to disappear and stay hidden until our plans are formalised. But I'm torn. I'd like to head to Messina. If there's a chance any of them are alive…'
Apart from roaming field agents engaged on diverse tasks, the Distaff headquarters on Messina represented my only other base of operations. If it was gone, and Spaeton House too, I was cut adrift.
'I had many friends at the Distaff Hall. I hope they're all right/ She looked at the table and fiddled with her glass. 'I suppose you're most concerned about Madam Bequin/
4Vell-' I began.
'She being such an old friend and colleague of yours, I mean. And that she was badly hurt on Durer. And everyone knows…' She stopped suddenly.
'Knows what, Eleena?'
'Well, that you love her/
'Everyone knows, do they?'
Ybu can't hide something like that. I've seen you together. You adore each other/
'But-'
'You're a psyker and she's one of us. I know, I know. That doesn't mean you don't love her, all the same/
She looked at me and blushed. This wine!' she said. 'I've said far too much, haven't I?'
'No, Eleena/ said Crezia. Neither of us had heard her come in. 'Talk some sense into him, will you? He has to go back and see her. It's the right thing/
Crezia was dressed in her formal tutorial robes. She took a glass from the rack, came to the table and, finding the bottle was empty, set about opening another.
'How was your day?' I asked, trying to change the subject.
'I spent four hours lecturing the sophomore class on the principles of thoracic palpation. I've never seen such a crowd of ill-prepared dolts. When I got one fellow up for a practical, he took hold of the volunteer subject's thigh. How do you think my day was?'
She sat down with us at the table. 'I looked in on our guest. I'm concerned about his condition. He hasn't taken any food or drink, and he's only marginally responsive. I think you may have damaged him with your mental probings.'
'Either that,' I said, 'or he's having an adverse reaction to the drugs.'
'Possibly. If he's the same in the morning, I'll run some bloodwork on him. Whatever, he's not well and he's not comfortable. There's severe lividity in his hands and feet. You tied those bonds so damn tight.'
'As tight as they needed to be, Crezia. He's a Vessorine janissary paid to murder me, don't forget.'
'Shut up and pour me a drink.'
The moment Aemos came in, past ten o'clock, I could tell something was wrong. He was carrying a small pile of data-slates and accepted a drink from Eleena without question, which was unusual for him.
His hand was trembling as he raised the glass to sip. Even Crezia could see this was not like him.
'Well, old friend?' I asked.
'I spent hours resourcing those names, Gregor. Still nothing on this Khanjar, though I assembled a list of planets that still use the word.' He slid a slate across to me.
'Maria Tarray… a little more success there. A Maria Tari was arrested by the arbites on Hallowcan five years ago for participating in cult activity. She was pending trial when she escaped custody. She turned up twice more: on Felthon, where she was a known associate of the cult leader, Berrikin Paswold; and on Sanseeta, where she was wanted in connection with the murder of Hierarch Sansum and five Ministorum clerics. The Inquisition also has a warrant out for her restraint as a suspected rogue psyker.'
'So, an active participant in cult activity, then?' I looked at the extracts Aemos had put on a slate. They didn't tell me much more. If I contacted the Inquisition, they'd have a more complete file. Despite the risks, I felt inclined to get in touch with Rorken.
'If it's the same woman/ he replied.
There was no picture, but the physical description matched my mind's retrieved image.
What's her background?'
There's nothing on that… except that when questioned during her detention on Hallowcan, she claimed to be thirty-seven and stated her birth wo rid was Gudrun/
'Interesting…' I said. 'We should check her details against the planetary census and-'
'I believe you pay me to be thorough, Gregor/ said Aemos, churlishly. 'I've already done that. There is no record of her here. In fact, there is no one on Gudrun with the surname Tarray or Tari. The surname does, however, occur on other worlds. Too many, in fact, to be of any help/
'So, savant/ said Crezia, 'what's really, troubling you?'
Aemos took another glug of wine and pushed a slate into the centre of the table. 'I was running out of options with the names, so I turned to something else. I inspected the news registers from across the sub-sector, hunting for key words. You won't like it/
I read down the slate, my heart turning to cold stone. It showed me bulletin reports of incidents from several planets in the sub. Just little items, most of which wouldn't even have made column space beyond the regional news wires. Certainly, the events reported wouldn't have been planetary news, and definitely not interplanetary. Aemos had only found them because he had been specifically looking, and trawling the Imperium's news wire data compendium.
The first report was of the explosion on Messina. Messina Prime, the main hive, spire eleven. The blast had occurred at ten fifty, local. That was chilling. By my estimation, the raid on Spaeton had commenced at precisely the same time, given sidereal adjustments. The explosion had incinerated the uppermost ten levels of the spire. The death toll was put at eleven thousand six hundred. The Lord Governor had declared a state of emergency.
There was a long appended list of properties and business destroyed. Amongst them halfway down the second page, was the Thorn Institute, the name by which the Distaff had been publically known.
No survivors. I supposed it could have been a coincidence, but I didn't believe in them. Which meant that my foe, this Khanjar the Sharp, had not hesitated to exterminate thousands of civilians just to take out the Distaff.
The news file stated that a proscribed movement calling itself the Scions of Messina had claimed responsibility. That group, it said, struck for Messina's independence from the Imperium.
Which was frankly rubbish. Messina was as Imperial as a planet-culture got.
The second report listed on the slate was filed from Cartol. A family touring Kona Province on vacation had been found murdered by unknown gunmen. Two men and three women. Identities were to follow as soon as they had been established. Authorities on Cartol estimated the time of death at between ten and midnight, two days back.
