The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第41章

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reaction　they　were　hoping　to　see。　But　inside；　I　balked。　Their　intelligence　was　good；　good　enough　to　have　cracked　Glossia；　if　only
partially。　I　was　sure　of　the　source。　They　had　already　mentioned　that　weasel　von　Baigg。　Months　before；　on　Thracian　right　before　the
atrocity；　I　had　begun　to　suspect　von　Baigg。　At　that　time；　I　merely　assumed　he　was　Lord　Rorken's　plant　to　watch　over　me。　Now　I
realised　he　was　happy　to　talk　to　anyone。　I　had　recognised　von　Baigg's　weakness　and　stalled　his　career。　Clearly　he　had　decided　to　seek
advancement　from　other　inquisitors　by　selling　me　out。
'If　you　are　telling　me　Fischig　is　the　operative　I　know　as　Hound；　I　am　truly　surprised；'　I　replied　levelly；　choosing　my　words　with
extreme　care。
'We　will　talk　to　him　in　time；'　said　Palfir。
'Not　while　he　is　my　recognised　second。　That　would　break　the　code　of　prejudice。　If　you　wish　to　interview　him；　I　must　be　allowed　a　new
second。　Of　my　choosing。'
'We　will　get　to　that；'　said　Riggre。
'Why　did　you　survive　the　Thracian　horror？'　asked　Moyag。
'I　was　lucky。'
'Explain　lucky？'
'I　had　stopped　to　honour　the　tomb　of　the　admiral。　The　Spatian　Gate　protected　me　from　the　air　strikes。'　After　the　lies　Cherubael　had　told
me　on　Eechan；　I　dreaded　this　question　coming　up　again　under　psychic　interview。　The　lies；　or　at　least　my　attempts　to　screen　them；
would　be　picked　up。
'The　atrocity　was　simply　cover　to　allow　you　to　liberate　and　remove　from　Thracian　the　heretic　psyker　Esarhaddon。'
'I　would　normally　address　that　notion　with　scorn。　If　the　entire　event　had　been　staged　simply　to　〃launder〃　the　psyker；　then　it　was
inhumanly　wasteful。　However；　I　believe　in　some　regards　you　are　right。　That's　what　the　atrocity　was　engineered　to　do。　But　not　by　me。'
Moyag　licked　his　yellowing　teeth　eagerly。　'You　maintain　that　it　was　in　fact　Interrogator　Lyko　who　executed　the　event？'
'In　collaboration　with　the　daemonhost。'
'But　Lyko　cannot　answer　those　charges；　can　he？　Because　you　killed　him　on　Eechan。'
'I　executed　Lyko　on　Eechan　as　a　traitor…enemy　of　the　Imperium。'
'I　submit　to　you　that　you　killed　him　because　he　was　on　to　you。　You　killed　him　to　silence　him。'
'Do　I　really　have　to　be　here？　You're　doing　a　fine　job　of　making　up　your　own　answers。'
'Where　is　Esarhaddon？'
'Wherever　Cherubael　took　him。'
'And　where　is　that？'　asked　Palfir。

I　shrugged。　'To　his　master。　Quixos。'
All　three　of　them　laughed。　'Quixos　is　dead。　He　died　long　ago！'　Moyag　chuckled。
'Then　why　did　the　inquisitor　general　and　I　find　that　he　had　been　manipulating　her　codes　to　gain　access　to　Cadian　airspace？'
'Because　that's　how　you　made　it　look。　You　say　Quixos　used　his　power　to　steal　her　authority　code。　If　that's　true；　then　it's　a　crime　any
deviant　inquisitor　of　renown　could　manage。　You　could　manage　it。　And　using　a　dead　man's　code　means　no　one　is　going　to　object。'
'Quixos　isn't　dead。'　I　cleared　my　throat。　'Quixos　is　Hereticus　and　Extremis　Diabolus。　He　has　perverted　inquisitors　such　as　Lyko　and
Molitor　into　his　service。　He　uses　daemonhosts。　He　triggers　holocausts　to　cover　his　theft　of　alpha…plus　class　psykers。'
The　three　interrogators　fell　silent　for　a　moment。
'We　are　wasting　time　here；'　I　said。　'I　am　not　the　man　you　want。'
BUT　THE　TIME…WASTING　continued。　A　week；　passed；　then　a　second。　Every　day；　I　was　taken　to　the　great　hall　and　subjected　to　anything
from　two　to　six　hours　of　First　Action　interview。　The　questions　were　repeated　so　many　times；　I　became　sick　of　hearing　them。　None　of
the　interrogators　seemed　to　listen　to　my　statements。　As　far　as　I　knew；　no　part　of　my　story　was　being　checked　out。
They　were　clearly　wary　of　escalating　to　physical　or　psychic　means　of　extraction。　Because　I　was　a　psyker；　I　could　at　least　make　things
difficult　enough　so　that　they'd　never　know　how　much　of　what　they　were　getting　out　of　me　was　true。　Osma　had　evidently　decided　to
wear　me　down　with　endless　cycles　of　verbal　cross…examination。
For　fifteen　minutes　each　evening；　with　the　ocean　light　fading；　I　was　allowed　to　speak　with　Fischig。　These　conversations　were
pointless。　The　cell　areas　were　undoubtedly　laced　with　vox…thieves　and　listening　devices；　and　as　far　as　we　knew；　Glossia　was
compromised。
Fischig　could　tell　me　little；　although　I　was　able　to　learn　that　Medea；　Aemos　and　the　gun…cutter　were　not　in　Osma's　hands；　and　neither
was　the　Essene。
There　had　been　no　further　sighting　of　Prophaniti…Husmaan；　and　Fischig　was　certain　that　the　mystery　starship　that　had　delivered
Prophaniti　to　Cadia　had　not　been　intercepted　that　fateful　night。
Through　Fischig's　agency；　I　sent　petitions　to　Osma；　to　Rorken　and　to　Neve；　protesting　my　arrest　and　urging　them　to　take　further　action
regarding　Quixos。　No　word　came　back。
Candlemas　was　long　past。　Three　more　weeks　went　by。　I　realised　that　the　year　had　turned。　Outside　the　thick；　bleak　walls　of　the
Carnificina；　it　was　340。M41。
AT　THE　END　of　my　third　month　of　detention　and　interrogation；　I　was　led　into　the　great　hall　for　my　daily　interview　and　found　Osma
waiting　for　me　instead　of　the　usual　interrogators。
'Sit；'　he　said；　gesturing　to　the　chair　in　the　centre　of　the　stark　room。
It　was　dark　and　cold。　Bitter；　late　winter　storms　were　pushing　in　from　the　east；　and　though　it　was　day；　no　light　came　from　the　high
windows。　They　were　muffled　with　snow。　My　breath　steamed　in　the　air；　and　I　shivered。　Osma　had　arranged　six　lamps　around　the　edges
of　the　room。
I　sat　down；　pushing　my　hands　into　the　pockets　of　my　coat　against　the　chill。　I　didn't　want　Osma　to　see　my　distress。　He　stood；　warm　and
insulated　in　his　burnished　power　armour；　reviewing　a　data…slate。
I　could　see　myself；　reflected　in　the　polished　panels　of　his　backplate。　My　clothes　were　ragged　and　filthy。　My　skin　pale。　I　had　dropped　a
good　seven　kilos；　and　now　sported　a　thick　beard　as　unruly　as　my　hair。　The　only　item　in　my　possession　was　the　inquisitorial　rosette　in
my　coat　pocket。　It　comforted　me。
Osma　turned　to　face　me。　'In　three　months；　your　story　has　not　changed。'
'That　should　tell　you　something。'
'It　tells　me　you　have　great　reserves　of　strength　and　a　careful　mind。'
'Or　that　I'm　not　lying。'
He　put　the　slate　down　on　one　of　the　lamp　tables。
'Let　me　explain　to　you　what　is　going　to　happen。　Lord　Rorken　has　persuaded　Grandmaster　Orsini　to　have　you　extradited　to　Thracian
Primaris。　There　you　will　stand　trial　for　the　charges　in　the　carta　extremis　before　a　Magistery　Tribunal　of　the　Ordo　Malleus　and　the
Officio　of　Internal　Prosecution。　Rorken　isn't　happy；　but　it　is　all　Orsini　would　allow。　Rorken；　I　have　heard；　feels　that　your　innocence　…
or　guilt　…　can　be　ascertained　once　and　for　all　in　a　formal　trial。'
'The　result　of　that　trial　may　embarrass　you　and　your　master；　Lord　Bezier。'
He　laughed。　'In　truth；　I　would　welcome　such　embarrassment　if　it　meant　the　exoneration　of　a　valuable　inquisitor　like　you；　Eisenhorn。
But　I　don't　think　it　will。　You　will　burn　on　Thracian　for　this；　Eisenhorn；　as　surely　as　you　would　have　done　here。'
'I'll　take　my　chances；　Osma。'
He　nodded。　'So　will　I。　The　Black　Ships　will　arrive　in　three　days　time　to　conduct　you　to　Thracian　Primaris。　That　gives　me　three　days　to
break　you　before　the　matter　is　taken　out　of　my　hands。'
'Be　careful；　Osma。'
'I'm　always　careful。　Tomorrow；　my　staff　will　begin　Ninth　Action　examination　of　you。　There　will　be　no　respite　until　the　Black　Ships
arrive　or　you　tell　me　what　I　want　to　hear。'
'Two　days　of　Ninth　Action　methods　will　probably　guarantee　I　won't　be　alive　when　the　Black　Ships　come。'
'Probably　A　shame；　and　questions　will　be　asked。　But　this　is　a　lonely　prison　and　I　am　in　charge。　That　is　why；　today；　I'm　just　talking　to
you。　Just　you　and　me。　A　last　chance。　Tell　me　the　whole　truth　now；　Eisenhorn；　man　to　man。　Make　this　easy　on　us　both。　Confess　your
crimes　before　the　pain　begins　tomorrow；　spare　us　the　trial　on　Thracian；　and　I'll　do　everything　in　my　power　to　ensure　your　execution　is
quick　and　painless。'

'I'll　gladly　tell　you　the　truth。'　His　eyes　brightened。
'It's　all　there；　on　that　slate　you　were　reading。　Exactly　as　I　have　been　saying　these　last　three　months。'
WHEN　THE　GUARDS　took　me　back　to　my　frigid　cell；　down　stone　hallways　where　the　ocean　gales　moaned；　Fischig　was　waiting　for　me。
Our　daily　fifteen　minutes。
He　had　brought　a　lamp；　and　a　tray　with　my　night　meal：　thin；　tepid　fish…broth　and　stale　hunks　of　rusk　bre