The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第28部分

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for　this　place。　Another　year　or　two；　they　tell　me。'
That　struck　me　as　infinitely　melancholic。　Cadia　was　a　warrior…world；　standing　guard　in　the　one　navigable　approach　to　the　warp…tumult
of　the　infamous　Eye　of　Terror。　The　region；　known　as　the　Cadian　Gate；　is　the　route　of　choice　for　invasions　of　Chaos；　and　Cadia　is　seen
by　most　as　the　Imperium's　first　line　of　defence。　It　has　bred　elite　troops　since　it　was　first　colonised；　and　billions　of　its　sons　and
daughters　have　died　bravely　protecting　our　culture。
Died　bravely…　then　left　to　slowly　vanish　in　the　desolate　fields　of　their　home　world。
It　was　dismal；　but　probably　entirely　in　keeping　with　the　stoic　martial　mindset　of　the　Cadians。
FISCHIG　PUSHED　OPEN　the　heavy　axelwood　door　of　the　shrine　tower　and　we　went　inside　out　of　the　wind。
The　tower　was　a　single　chamber；　a　drum　of　stone；　with　weep…hole　window　slits　high　up　near　the　summit。　A　circle　of　rough　wooden
pews　was　arranged　around　a　central　altarpiece；　above　which　a　massive　iron　candelabra　in　the　form　of　a　double…headed　eagle　was
suspended　on　a　chain　from　the　beamed　roof。
On　this　dark　autumn　day；　the　light　from　the　votive　candles　fixed　amongst　the　metal　feathers　of　the　aquila's　unfurled　wings　was　the
only　illumination。　There　was　a　spare；　thin；　golden　light；　an　atmosphere　of　frugality　and　numinous　grace。　And　a　musty　stink　of　rotting
axel　leaves。

WE　SAT　TOGETHER　on　a　pew；　both　of　us　briefly　honouring　the　altar　with　the　sign　of　the　aquila；　our　hands　splayed　together　against　our
hearts。
'It's　strange；'　sighed　Fischig　after　a　long　pause。　'You　sent　me　out；　over　a　year　ago；　on　yet　another　quest　for　signs　of　that　daemonspawn
Cherubael。　And　just　when　I　find　a　trace；　you　run　into　him　again；　on　the　other　side　of　the　damn　sector。'
'Strange　is　possibly　not　the　word　I'd　use。'

'But　the　coincidence。　Is　it　coincidence？'
'I　don't　know。　It　seems　so　much　like　it。　But…　that　thing…　Cherubael…　disarms　me　so。'
'Naturally；　old　friend。'
I　shook　my　head。　'Not　because　of　his　power。　Not　that。'
'Then　what？'
'The　way　he　speaks　to　me。　The　way　he　says　he's　using　me。'
'Daemon　guile！'
'Perhaps。　But　he　knows　so　much。　He　knows…　ah；　damn　it！　He　speaks　as　if　our　destinies　are　irrevocably　entwined。　Like　he　matters　to
me　and　vice　versa。'
'He　does　matter　to　you。'
'I　know；　I　know。　As　my　goal。　My　prey。　My　nemesis。　But　he　talks　like　it's　more　than　that。　Like　he　can　see　the　future；　or　can　read　it；　or
has　even　been　there。　He　talks　to　me　like…　he　knows　what　I'm　going　to　do。'
Fischig　frowned。　'And…　what　do　you　think　that　might　be？'
I　rose　and　stalked　to　the　altar。　'I　have　no　idea！　I　can't　conceive　of　doing　anything　that　would　please　or　benefit　a　daemon！　I　can't　ever
imagine　myself　that　insane！'
'Trust　me；　Eisenhorn；　if　I　ever　thought　you　were；　I'd　shoot　you　myself。'
I　glanced　back　at　him。　'Please　do。'
I　halted　and　looked　up　into　the　flickering　flames　of　the　candles；　seeing　the　many　shadows　and　possible　shadows　of　myself　they　cast；
interlapping　and　criss…crossing　the　stone　floor。　Like　the　myriad　possibilities　of　the　future。　I　tried　not　to　look　into　the　thicker；　blacker
shadows。
'The　warp…spawned　bastard's　just　playing　games　with　you；'　said　Fischig。　'That's　all　it　is。　Games　to　put　you　off　the　scent　and　keep　you　at
bay。'
'If　that's　the　case；　why　does　he　keep　saving　my　life？'
WE　WENT　BACK　out　into　the　moorland　wind。　The　moaning　of　the　pylon　seemed　louder　to　me　now。
'Who's　with　you？'　Fischig　asked。
'Aemos；　Bequin；　Nayl；　Medea；　Husmaan…　and　a　lad　you've　not　met；　Inshabel。　We　came　here　directly　from　Eechan。'
'Long　ride？'
'Best　part　of　six　months。　We　got　as　far　as　Mordia　on　a　free　trader　called　the　Best　of　Eagles；　and　then　came　the　rest　of　the　way　as　guests
of　the　Adeptus　Mechanicus。　The　super…heavy　barge　Mons　Olympus；　no　less；　carrying　virgin　Titans　to　the　garrisons　of　the　Cadian
Gate。'
'Quite　an　honour。'
'The　inquisitor's　rosette　carries　its　benefits。　But　I　tell　you；　the　tech…priests　of　Mars　are　damned　surly　company　for　a　two　month　voyage。
I　would　have　gone　mad　but　for　Bequin's　regicide　tournaments。'
'Nayl　getting　any　better？'
'No。　I　think　by　now　he　owes　me…　what　is　it？　Hmm。　His　first　born　and　his　soul。'
Fischig　laughed。
'Oh；　it　wasn't　all　so　bad。　There　was　one　fellow；　a　veteran　princeps　from　the　Titan　Legion。　Old　guy；　centuries　old。　At　the　point　of
retirement；　like　those　men　ever　retire。　He　was　supervising　the　transfer　of　the　new　war…machines。　Name　of　Hekate。　We　got　to　drinking
some　nights。　Remind　me　to　tell　you　some　of　his　war…stories。'
'I　will。　Come　on…'
He　had　a　land　speeder　parked　down　off　the　lane　under　the　swaying　axel…trees。　We　brushed　fallen　ribbon…leaves　off　me　hood　and　got　in。
'Let　me　show　you　what　I　found。　Then　we　can　all　meet　and　greet　in　a　safe　place。'
'How　safe？'
'The　safest。'
WE　FLEW　OVER　the　moorlands；　into　the　biting　winds；　hugging　the　terrain。　The　light　was　fading。　The　grim　glory　of　Cadia　was　spread
out　below　us。　This　was　the　merciless；　windblown　wilderness　that　raised　one　of　the　Imperium's　hardiest　warrior　breeds。　Here　were　the
scattered　islets　in　the　Caducades　Sea　where　they　were　left　naked　as　pre…pubescents　to　survive　the　ritual　Month　of　Making。　Here　were
the　hill…forts　where　the　Cadian　Youth　armies　wintered　and　toughened　and　waged　mock　wars　on　their　neighbour　forts。　Here　were　the
crags；　ice…lakes　and　axel…forests　where　they　learned　the　arts　of　camouflage。
Here　were　the　wide；　sundered　plains　where　their　live　firing　exercises　were　staged。
There　is　a　saying：　''If　the　ammo　ain't　live；　this　ain't　no　Cadian　practice''。　Right　from　the　time　they　are　issued　with　their　own　las…guns；
which　is　about　the　same　time　they　are　given　their　first　primary　readers；　the　young　warrior…caste　of　Cadia　are　handling　live
ammunition。　Most　can　fire；　and　kill；　and　perform　most　infantry　field　drills　before　they　reach　the　age　often　standard。
Little　wonder　that　the　shock　troops　of　Cadia　are　among　the　Imperium's　best。
But　we　weren't　here　to　gawp　at　the　rugged　crucible　of　landscape　that　had　formed　the　Cadians。
We　were　here　to　look　at　the　pylons。

'CHERUBAEL'S　BEEN　HERE；'　said　Fischig；　jockeying　the　control　stick　and　eyeing　the　windspeed　gauge。　'Far　as　I　know；　nine　times　in　the
last　forty　years。'
'You're　sure？'
'It's　what　you　pay　me　for。　Your　daemonhost　…　and　whatever　he's　working　for　…　is　fascinated　by　Cadia。'
'Why　have　the　Inquisition　not　had　a　hint　of　it？'
'Come　on；　Gregor。　The　galaxy　is　big。　Aemos　once　told　me　that　the　weight　of　data　generated　by　the　Imperium　would　fry　all　the
metriculators　and　codifiers　on　Terra　in　a　flash　if　it　was　input　simultaneously。　It's　a　matter　of　making　connections。　Sifting　the　data。　The
Inquisition　…　and　you　…　have　been　looking　all　over　for　signs　of　Cherubael。　But　some　things　just　don't　flag。　I　got　lucky。'
'How？'
'I　was　doing　my　job。　Old　friend　of　mine；　Isak　Actte；　from　the　old　arbites　day。　Used　to　be　my　boss；　in　fact。　He　rose；　got　promoted；
wound　up　on　Hydraphur　as　an　arbites　general　and　then　got　stationed　here　as　watch　overseer　to　the　Cadian　Interior　Guard。　I　contacted
him　years　ago；　and　got　a　message　I　had　to　check。'
'You're　intriguing　me。'
He　ran　us　low　over　a　headland　and　our　speeder　made　a　small；　sharp　shadow　on　the　glittering　ice…lake　below。
'Actte　said　the　arbites　had　closed　down　a　heretical　cell　here　on　Cadia　about　ten　years　ago。　Called　themselves　the　Sons　of　Bael。　A　fairly
worthless　lot；　by　all　accounts。　Harmless。　But　under　interrogation；　they'd　admitted　to　following　a　daemon　they　called　Bael　or　the　Bael。
The　local　inquisitor　general　spent　some　time　with　them　and　had　them　all　burned。'
'What's　his　name？'
'Gorfal。　But　he's　dead；　three　years　gone。　The　current　incumbent　is　a　she。　Inquisitor　General　Neve。　Anyway；　the　cell　has　flared　up　a　few
times　since　then。　Nothing　a　good　team　of　riot…officers　couldn't　handle。　Like　I　said；　the　Sons　of　Bael　were　pretty　harmless；　really。　They
were　only　interesting　in　one　thing。'
'Which　was？'
'Measuring　the　dimensions　of　the　pylons。'
THE　PYLON　HAD　been　looming　in　our　windscreen　for　a　while　now；　and　Fischig　swept　us　around　it；　almost　kissing　the　black　stone。
The　moaning　song　of　the　wind　as　it　laced　through　the　geometries　of　the　pylon　was　now　so　loud　I　could　hear　it　over　the　racing　turbines
of　the　speeder。
The　pylon　was　vast：　half　a　kilometre　high　and　a　quarter　square。　The　upper　facing　of　the　smooth　black　stone　was　machined　with
delicate　craft　to　form　holes　and　other　round…edged　orifices　no　bigger　than　a　man's　head。　It　was　through　these　slim；　two　hundred　and
fifty　metre　tubes　that　the　wind　moaned　and　howled。
And　the　tubes　weren't　straight。　They　wove　through　the　pylon　like　worm　tunnels。　Tech…magos　had　tried　running　tiny　servitor　probes
through　them　to　map　their　loops；　but　generally　the　probes　didn't　come　back。
As　we　banked　up　higher　for　another　pass；　I　could　see　the　distant　shape　of　the　neighbouring　pylon；　across　the　moors；　sixty　kilometres
away。　Five　thousand；　eight　hundred　and　ten　known　pylons　dot　the　surface　of　Cadia；　not　counting　the　two　thousand　others　that　remain
as　partial　ruins　or　buried　relics。
No　two　are　identical　in　design。　Each　one　rises　to　a　precise　half　kilometre　height　and　is　sunk　a　quarter　kilometre　into　the　ground。　They
predate　mankind's　arrival　in　this　system；　and　their　manner　of　manufacture　is　unknown。　They