The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第37部分

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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　bread　with　a　glass　of　watered　rum。
I　sat　down　on　the　crude　bunk。
'I'm　to　be　extradited　for　trial；'　I　told　him。
He　nodded。　'But　I　understand　tomorrow　the　painwork　begins。　I've　filed　a　protest；　but　I'm　sure　it'll　be　accidentally　lost　in　the　trash。'
'I'm　sure　it　will。'
'You　should　eat；'　he　said。
'I'm　not　hungry。'
'Just　eat。　You'll　need　your　strength　and　from　the　look　of　you；　you've　precious　little　of　that。'
I　shook　my　head。
'Gregor；'　he　said；　dropping　his　voice。　'I　have　a　question　to　ask　you。　You　won't　like　it　much；　but　it's　important。'
'Important？'
'To　me。　And　to　your　friends。'
'Ask　it。'
'Do　you　remember　…　God…Emperor；　but　it　seems　so　long　ago！　…　last　year；　when　we　met　up　again；　at　that　grave　field　outside　Kasr
Tyrok？'
'Of　course。'
'In　the　shrine　tower；　you　said　to　me　that　you　couldn't　conceive　of　doing　anything　that　would　please　or　benefit　a　daemon。　You　said；　〃I
can't　ever　imagine　myself　that　insane。〃'
'I　remember　it　clearly。　You　said　that　if　you　ever　thought　I　was；　you'd　shoot　me　yourself。'
He　nodded；　with　a　sour　chuckle。　There　was　a　moment　of　silence；　broken　only　by　the　crackling　of　the　lamp　and　the　boom　of　the　sea
outside　the　prison　ramparts。
'You　want　to　be　sure；　don't　you；　Godwyn？'　I　asked。
He　looked　at　me；　reproachfully。
'I　can　understand　that。　I　expect　total　loyalty　from　you　and　all　my　staff。　You　have　the　right　to　be　assured　of　the　same　from　me。'
'Then　you　know　my　question。'
I　fixed　him　with　my　eyes。　'You　want　to　ask　if　I'm　lying。　If　there's　any　truth　to　the　charges。　If　you　have　been　working　for　a　man　who
consorts　with　daemons。'
'It's　a　stupid　question；　I　know。　If　you　are　those　things；　you　won't　hesitate　to　lie　again　now。'
'I'm　too　tired　for　anything　but　the　truth；　Godwyn。　I　swear；　by　the　Golden　Throne；　I　am　not　what　Osma　says　I　am。　I　am　a　true　servant　of
the　Emperor　and　the　Inquisition。　Find　me　an　eagle　and　I'll　swear　on　that　too。　I　don't　know　what　else　I　can　do　to　convince　you。'
He　got　to　his　feet。　'That's　enough　for　me。　I　just　wanted　to　be　sure。　Your　word　has　always　been　enough；　and　after　all　the　years　we've
been　together；　I　was　sure　that　you'd　tell　me　if…　even　if　it　was…'
'Know　this；　old　friend。　I　would。　Even　if　I　was　the　scum　Osma　believes　me　to　be；　and　even　if　I　could　hide　it　from　him…　I　couldn't　lie　to
a　direct　question　from　you。　Not　you；　Chastener　Fischig。'
The　guard　rapped　on　the　cell　door。
'One　minute　more！'　Fischig　shouted。　'Eat　your　supper；'　he　said　to　me。
'Did　Osma　put　you　up　to　this？'　I　asked。
'Hell；　no！'　he　snarled；　offended。
'It's　all　right。　I　didn't　think　so。'
The　guard　hammered　again。
'All　right；　damn　your　eyes！'　Fischig　growled。
'I'll　see　you　tomorrow；'　I　said。
'Yeah；'　he　replied。　'Do　one　thing　for　me。'
'Name　it。'
'Eat　your　supper。'
THE　CRAMPS　BEGAN　just　after　what　I　guessed　was　midnight。　They　woke　me　from　a　bad　sleep。　Pain　surged　through　my　body　and　my
mind　was　numb。　I　hadn't　felt　this　bad　since　Pye's　handiwork　on　Lethe　Eleven；　during　the　Darknight　almost　two　whole　years　before。
I　tried　to　rise；　and　fell　off　the　bunk。　Spasms　wracked　me；　and　I　cried　out。　I　vomited　up　the　dregs　of　the　dire　supper。　Bouts　of　fever…heat
and　death…chill　twitched　through　me。
I　don't　know　how　long　it　took　for　me　to　crawl　to　the　cell　door；　or　how　long　I　lay　there　beating　my　fists　against　it　until　it　opened。　Hours；
possibly。
Consciousness　ebbed　and　flowed　with　the　cramping　and　the　rising　agony。

'Holy　Emperor！'　the　guard　exclaimed　as　he　opened　the　door　and　saw　me　by　the　light　of　his　rush…lamp。
He　called　out　and　feet　came　beating　down　the　cell　way。
'He's　sick；'　I　heard　the　guard　say。
'Leave　him　till　morning；'　said　another。
'He'll　be　dead；'　the　first　guard　answered　nervously。
'Please…'　I　stammered；　reaching　out　my　hand。　It　was　frozen　in　a　claw…shape；　paralysed　and　ugly。
Others　were　arriving。　I　heard　Fischig's　voice。
'He　needs　a　doctor。　Trained　medicae　help；'　Fischig　said。
'It's　not　allowed；'　complained　a　guard。
'Look　at　him；　man！　He's　dying！　An　attack　of　some　sort。'
'Let　me　through；'　said　another　voice。
It　was　the　prison　medic；　accompanied　by　Interrogator　Riggre；　who　looked　as　if　he　had　been　roused　from　his　bed。
'He's　faking　it；　leave　him！'　Riggre　said　contemptuously。
'Shut　up！'　Fischig　snarled。　'Look　at　him！　That's　no　act！'
'He's　a　master　of　deception；'　Riggre　returned。　'Maybe　he's　been　licking　the　lead…paint　off　the　door　to　aid　his　act；　more　fool　him。　This　is
a　sham。　Leave　him。'
'He's　dying；'　said　Fischig。
'He　looks　bloody　sick；'　said　a　guard　uncomfortably。
More　cramping　spasms　twisted　me　involuntarily。
The　doctor　was　hunched　over　me。　I　could　hear　the　beeping　of　the　medicae　auspex　he'd　taken　from　his　pharmacopoeia。
'This　is　no　act；'　he　muttered。　'His　body's　in　seizure。　You　can't　fake　muscle　binding　like　that。　Blood…oxygen　is　down　to　thirty　per　cent
and　his　heart　is　defibrillating。　He'll　be　dead　in　less　than　an　hour。'
'Give　him　a　shot。　Fix　him！'　Riggre　yelled。
'I　can't；　sir。　Not　here。　We　haven't　got　the　facilities。　Ahh！　Emperor；　look！　He's　bleeding　out　now；　from　the　eyes　and　nose。'
'Do　something！'　Riggre　screamed。
'We　have　to　get　him　to　an　infirmary。　Kasr　Derth　is　the　nearest。　We　have　to　get　him　t