The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第36部分

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the　oceans　beyond。　Icebergs　from　the　calving　glaciers　at　Cadu　Sound　and　the　distant　Caducades　Isthmus　jostled　and　splintered　in　the
open　water　between　the　prison　isle　and　the　barren　atolls　opposing　it。
Kelp　and　hardy；　lean　axel　trees　decorated　its　lower　slopes。
The　lighter　swung　in　over　the　eastern　ramparts　and　settled　on　a　pad　cut　from　the　stone。　I　was　marched　under　guard　out　into　the　cold
sunlight；　and　then　into　the　dank　hallways　of　the　rock。　The　white…washed　walls　sweated　and　stank　of　seawater。　Rusting　chains　ran　down
from　the　ceiling　to　the　hatches　of　forgotten　oubliettes。
I　could　hear　the　shouts　and　screams　of　prisoners。　The　demented　and　infected　of　the　Cadians　lived　here；　mostly　ex…servicemen　who　had
been　driven　mad　in　the　wars　of　the　Eye。
The　Cadian　troops　handed　me　over　to　a　squad　of　red…uniformed　prison　guards　who　reeked　of　unwashed　flesh　and　carried　pain…flails
and　leather　whips。
They　opened　up　a　fifty　centimetre…thick　hatch　cover　riven　with　studs；　and　pushed　me　into　a　cell。
It　was　four　paces　by　four；　cut　from　stone；　with　no　window。　It　stank　of　piss。　The　previous　incumbent　had　died　here…　and　never　been
removed。
I　pushed　aside　his　dry　bones　and　sat　on　the　wooden　bunk。　I　knew　nothing。　I　had　no　idea　if　the　Cadian　Interior　had　captured　that　rogue
starship；　or　if　anyone　had　managed　to　track　the　flight　of　the　thing　that　had　been　poor　Husmaan。
The　path　to　Quixos；　the　path　we　had　been　so　lucky　to　strike　at　last；　was　disappearing　by　the　second　as　we　played　these　games。　And
there　was　nothing　I　could　do　about　it。
'WHEN　DID　YOU　first　decide　to　consort　with　daemons？'　asked　Interrogator　Riggre。
'I　have　never　done　so；　or　decided　to　do　so。'
'But　the　daemonhost　Cherubael　knows　you　by　name；'　said　Interrogator　Palfir。
'Is　that　a　question？'
'It—'　Palfir　stammered。
'What　is　your　relationship　with　the　daemonhost　Cherubael？'　cut　in　Interrogator　Moyag　sternly。
'I　have　no　relationship　with　any　daemonhost；'　I　replied。
I　was　chained　to　a　wooden　chair　in　the　great　hall　of　the　Carnificina；　winter　sunlight　shafting　down　from　the　high　windows。　Osma's
three　interrogators　stalked　around　me　like　caged　beasts；　their　robes　swirling　in　the　draft。
'It　knows　your　name；'　Moyag　said　testily。
'I　know　yours；　Moyag。　Does　that　give　me　power　over　you？'
'How　did　you　orchestrate　the　atrocity　at　Thracian　Hive　Primaris？'　asked　Palfir。
'I　didn't。　Next　question。'
'Do　you　know　who　did？'　asked　Riggre。
'Not　precisely。　But　I　believe　it　was　the　being　you　have　referred　to。　Cherubael。'
'He　has　been　in　your　life　before。'
'I　have　thwarted　him　before。　One　hundred　years　ago；　at　56…Izar。　You　must　have　the　records。'
Riggre　glanced　at　his　colleagues　before　replying。　'We　do。　But　you　have　been　searching　for　him　ever　since。'

'Yes。　As　a　matter　of　duty。　Cherubael　is　a　repellent　abomination。　Do　you　wonder　that　I　would　seek　him　out？'
'Not　all　your　contacts　with　him　have　been　recorded。'
'What？'
'We　know　some　contacts　have　remained　secret；'　Moyag　rephrased。
'How？'
'The　sworn　testimony　of　an　Alain　von　Baigg。　He　states　that　you　sent　an　operative　code…named　Hound　out　to　make　contact　with
Cherubael；　one　year　ago；　and　that　you　refrained　from　telling　your　ordo　master　about　it。'
'I　didn't　think　to　bother　Lord　Rorken　with　the　matter。'
'So；　you　don't　deny　it？'
'Deny　what？　Hunting　for　Chaos？　No；　I　don't。'
'In　secret？'
'What　inquisitor　doesn't　work　in　secret？'
'Who　is　Hound？'　asked　Palfir。
I　had　no　wish　to　make　Fischig's　life　more　difficult　just　then。　I　said；　'I　don't　know　his　real　name。　He　works　clandestinely。'
I　thought　they　would　press　me；　but　instead　Moyag　said；　'Why　did　you　survive　the　Thracian　horror？'
'I　was　lucky。'
Palfir　walked　a　circle　around　me；　his　polished　boots　squeaking　on　the　worn　floor。　'Let　me　make　it　clear。　We　are　just　beginning　here。　In
respect　to　your　rank　and　career；　we　are　employing　interrogation　of　the　First　Action。　The　First　Action　is—'
I　cut　him　short。　'I　have　been　an　inquisitor　for　many　years；　Palfir。　I　know　what　the　First　Action　is。　Verbal　interview　without　duress。'
'Then　you　know　of　the　Third　and　Fifth　Actions？'　sneered　Riggre。
'Light　physical　torture　and　psychic　interrogation。　And　by　the　way；　you　just　utilised　the　Second　Action　…　verbal　threat　of　and/or
description　of　Actions　that　may　follow。'
'Have　you　ever　been　tortured；　Eisenhorn？'　asked　Moyag。
'Yes；　by　less　squeamish　men　than　you。　And　I　have　interrogated　too。　Second　Action　methods　really　won't　work　on　me。'
'Inquisitor　Osma　has　authorised　us　to　use　any　methods　up　to　and　including　Ninth　Action；'　spat　Palfir。
'Again；　a　threat。　Second　Action。　It　won't　work　on　me。　I　told　you　that。　I　am　trying　to　be　co…operative。'
'Who　is　Hound？'　asked　Riggre。　Ah；　there　it　was；　the　follow…up；　designed　to　wrong…foot　by　coming　out　of　sequence。　For　a　moment；　I
began　to　admire　their　interrogation　skills。
'I　don't　know　his　real　name。　He　works　clandestinely。'
'Is　it　not　Godwyn　Fischig？　The　man　you　chose　as　your　second　here。　The　man　who　waits　outside　this　chamber？'
There　are　times　when　the　injuries　Gorgone　Locke　did　to　my　face　on　Gudrun　have　their　benefits。　My　face　simply　couldn't　show　the
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