The Eisenhorn TrilogyXenos(科幻战争)-第55部分

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ated　to　a　different　Imperial
saint；　and　each　one　the　heart　of　a　city　state。　The　Ecclesiarch　chose　it　as　a　shrine　world　because　it　lay　on　a　direct　line　between　Terra　and
Avignor。　The　most　popular　and　thriving　shrine　cities　lay　on　the　coast　of　the　eastern　continent；　and　billions　of　the　faithful　flocked　to
them　each　year。　Ezropolis　was　far　away　from　such　bustle。
Saint　Ezra；　who　had　been　martyred　in　670。M40；　was　the　patron　saint　of　undertaking　and　setting　forth；　which　I　took　to　be　appropriate。
His　city　was　a　shimmering　growth　of　steel；　glass　and　stone　rising　from　the　sun…cooked　plains　of　the　mid…west。　According　to　the　guide
slates；　all　water　was　pumped　in　from　the　western　coast　along　vast　pipelines　two　thousand　kilometres　long。
We　made　planetfall　at　Ezra　Plain；　the　principal　landing　facility；　and　joined　the　queues　of　pilgrims　climbing　the　looping　stairs　into　the
citadel。　Most　were　clad　in　yellow；　the　saint's　colour；　or　had　tags　or　swathes　of　yellow　cloth　adorning　them。　All　carried　lit　candles　or　oil
lamps；　despite　the　unforgiving　light。　Ezra　had　promised　to　light　a　flame　in　the　darkness　to　mark　all　those　setting　forth；　and
consequently　his　hagial　colour　was　flame　yellow。
We　had　done　the　necessary　research。　I　wore　a　suit　of　black　linen　with　a　sash　of　yellow　silk　and　carried　a　burning　votive　candle。　Ungish
was　draped　in　a　pale　yellow　robe　the　colour　of　the　sun　at　dawn；　and　clutched　a　plaster　figurine　of　the　saint。　Medea　wore　a　dark　red
bodyglove　under　a　tabard　on　which　bol。　She　pushed　the　small　grav…cart　on　which　Barbarisater　and　the
staff　lay；　wrapped　in　yellow　velvet。　It　was　common　for　pilgrims　to　cart　their　worldly　goods　to　the　shrine　of　Ezra；　in　order　that　they
might　be　blessed　before　any　kind　of　undertaking　or　setting　forth　could　properly　get　underway。　We　blended　easily　with　the　teaming
lines　of　sweating；　anxious　devotees。
At　the　top　of　the　stairs；　we　entered　the　blessed　cool　of　the　streets；　where　the　shadows　of　the　buildings　fell　across　us。　It　was　nearly
midday；　and　Ecclesiarchy　choirs　were　singing　from　the　platforms　that　topped　the　high；　slender　towers。　Bells　were　chiming；　and　yellow
sapfinches　were　being　released　by　the　thousand　from　basket　cages　in　the　three　city　squares。　The　thrumming　ochre　clouds　of　birds
swirled　up　above　us；　around　us；　singing　in　bewilderment。　They　were　brought　in　each　day；　a　million　at　a　time；　from　gene…farm　aviaries
on　the　coast；　where　they　were　bred　in　industrial　quantities。　They　were　not　native　to　this　part　of　Orbul　Infanta；　and　would　perish　within
hours　of　release　into　the　parched　desert。　It　was　reported　that　the　plains　around　Ezropolis　were　ankle…deep　with　the　residue　of　their
white　bones　and　bright　feathers。
But　still；　they　were　the　symbol　of　undertaking　and　setting　forth；　and　so　they　were　set　loose　by　the　million　to　certain　death　every
midday。　There　is　a　terrible　irony　to　this　which　I　have　often　thought　of　bringing　to　the　attention　of　the　Ecclesiarchy。　
WE　WENT　TO　the　Cathedral　of　Saint　Ezra　Outlooking；　a　significant　temple　on　the　western　side　of　the　city。　On　every　eave　and　wall　top
we　passed；　sapfinches　perched　and　twittered　with　what　seemed　to　me　to　be　indignation。

The　cathedral　itself　was　admittedly　splendid；　a　Low　Gothic　minster　raised　in　the　last　thirty　years　and　paid　for　by　subscriptions
generated　by　the　city　fathers　and　priesthood。　Every　visitor　who　entered　the　city　walls　was　obliged　to　deposit　two　high　denomination
coins　into　the　take　boxes　at　either　side　of　the　head　of　the　approach　stairs。　A　yellow　robed　adept　of　the　priesthood　was　there　to　see　it
was　done。　The　box　on　the　left　was　the　collection　for　the　maintenance　and　construction　of　the　city　temples。　The　one　on　the　right　was　the
sapfinch　fund。
We　went　inside　Saint　Ezra　Outlooking；　into　the　cool　of　the　marble　nave　where　the　faithful　were　bent　in　prayer　and　the　hard　sunlight
made　coloured　patterns　on　everything　as　it　slanted　through　the　huge；　stained　glass　windows。　The　cool　air　was　sweetened　by　the　smoke
of　sweetwood　burners；　and　livened　by　the　jaunty　singing　from　the　cantoria。
I　left　Medea　and　Ungish　in　the　arched　doorway　beside　a　tomb　on　which　lay　the　graven　image　of　a　Space　Marine　of　the　Raven　Guard
Chapter；　his　hands　arranged　so　as　to　indicate　which　holy　crusade　he　had　perished　in。
I　found　the　provost　of　the　cathedral；　and　explained　to　him　what　I　wanted。　He　looked　at　me　blankly；　fidgeting　with　his　yellow　robes；　but
I　soon　made　him　understand　by　depositing　six　large　coins　into　his　alms　chest；　and　another　two　into　his　hand。
He　ushered　me　into　a　baptism　chancel；　and　I　beckoned　my　colleagues　to　follow。　Once　all　of　us　were　inside；　he　drew　shut　the　curtains
and　opened　his　breviary。　As　he　began　the　rite；　Medea　unwrapped　the　devices　and　laid　them　on　the　edge　of　the　benitier。　The　provost
mumbled　on　and；　keeping　his　eyes　fixed　on　the　open　book　so　he　wouldn't　lose　his　place；　raised　and　unscrewed　a　flask　of　chrism　with
which　he　anointed　both　the　staff　and　the　sword。
'In　blessing　and　consecrating　these　items；　I　worship　the　Emperor　who　is　my　god；　and　charge　those　who　bring　these　items　forth　that
they　do　so　without　taint　of　concupiscence。　'Do　you　make　that　pledge？'
I　realised　he　was　looking　at　me。　I　raised　my　head　from　the　kneeling　bow　I　had　adopted。　Concupiscence。　A　desire　for　the　forbidden。
Did　I　dare　make　that　vow；　knowing　what　I　knew？
'Well？'
'I　am　without　taint；　puritus；'　I　replied。
He　nodded　and　continued　with　the　consecration。
THE　FIRST　PART　of　my　business　was　done。　We　went　out　into　the　courtyard　in　front　of　the　cathedral。
'Take　these　back　to　the　launch　and　stow　them　safely；'　I　told　Medea；　indicating　the　swaddled　weapons　on　the　cart。
'What's　concupiscence？'　she　asked。
'Don't　worry　about　it；'　I　said。
'Did　you　just　lie；　Gregor？'
'Shut　up　and　go　on　with　you。'
Medea　wheeled　the　cart　away　through　the　pilgrim　crowds。
'She's　a　sharp　girl；　heretic；'　Ungish　whispered。
'Actually；　you　can　shut　up　too；'　I　said。
'I　damn　well　won't；'　she　snapped。　'This　is　it。'
'What？　〃It〃？'
'In　my　dreams；　I　saw　you　foreswear　in　front　of　an　Imperial　altar。　I　saw　it　happen；　and　my　death　followed。'
I　watched　the　sapfinches　spiralling　in　the　air　above　the　yard。
'Deja　vu。'
'I　know　deja　vu　from　a　dream；'　said　Ungish　sourly。　'I　know　deja　vu　from　my　backside。'
'The　God…Emperor　watches　over　us；'　I　reassured　her。
'Yes；　I　know　he　does；'　she　said。　'I　just　think　he　doesn't　like　what　he　sees。'
WE　WAITED　UNTIL　evening　in　the　yard；　buying　hot　loaves；　wraps　of　diced　salad　and　treacly　black　caffeine　from　street　vendors。　Ungish
didn't　eat　much。　Long　shadows　fell　across　the　yard　in　the　late　afternoon　light。　I　voxed　Medea。　She　was　safely　back　aboard　the　launch；
waiting　for　us。
I　was　waiting　to　complete　the　second　of　my　tasks。　This　was　the　appointed　day；　and　the　appointed　hour　was　fast　approaching。　This
would　be　the　first　test　of　the　twenty　communiques　I　had　sent　out。　One　had　been　to　Inquisitor　Gladus；　a　man　I　admired；　and　had　worked
with　effectively　thirty　years　before　during　the　P'glao　Conspiracy。　Orbul　Infanta　was　within　his　canon。　I　had　written　to　him；　laying　out
my　case　and　asking　for　his　support。　Asking　him　to　meet　me　here；　at　this　place；　at　this　hour。
It　was；　like　all　the　messages；　a　matter　of　trust。　I　had　only　written　to　men　or　women　I　felt　were　beyond　reproach；　and　who；　no　matter
what　they　thought　of　me；　might　do　me　the　grace　of　meeting　with　me　to　discuss　the　matter　of　Quixos。　If　they　rejected　me　or　my　intent；
that　was　fine。　I　didn't　expect　any　of　them　to　turn　me　in　or　attempt　to　capture　me。
We　waited。　I　was　impatient；　edgy…　edgy　still　with　the　dark　mysteries　Pontius　Glaw　had　planted　in　my　head。　I　hadn't　slept　well　in　four
months。　My　temper　was　short。
I　expected　Gladus　to　come；　or　at　least　send　some　kind　of　message。　He　might　be　detained　or　delayed；　or　caught　up　in　his　own　noble
business。　But　I　didn't　think　he'd　ignore　me。　I　searched　the　evening　crowds　for　some　trace　of　his　long…haired；　bearded　form；　his　grey
robes；　his　barb…capped　staff。
'HE'S　NOT　COMING；'　said　Ungish。
'Oh；　give　it　a　rest。'

'Please；　inquisitor；　I　want　to　go。　My　dream…'
'Why　don't　you　trust　me；　Ungish？　I　will　protect　you；'　I　said。　I　opened　my　black　linen　coat　so'she　could　see　the　laspistol　holstered　under
my　left　arm。
'Why？'　she　fretted。　'Because　you're　playing　with　fire。　You've　crossed　the　line。'
I　balked。　'Why　did　you　say　that？'　I　asked；　hearing　Pontius's　words　loud　in　my　head。
'Because　you　have；　damn　you！　Heretic！　Bloody　heretic！'
'Stop　it！'
She　got　to　her　feet　from　the　courtyard　bench　unsteadily。　Pilgrims　were　turning　to　look　at　the　sound　of　her　outburst。
'Heretic！'
'Stop　it；　Tasaera！　Sit　down！　No　one's　going　to　hurt　you！'
'Says　you；　heretic！　You've　damned　us　all　with　your　ways！　And　I'm　the　one　who's　going　to　pay！　I　saw　it　in　my　dream…　this　place；　this
hour…　your　lie　at　the　altar；　the　circling　birds…'
'I　didn't　lie；'　I　said；　tugging　her　back　down　onto　the　bench。
'He's　coming；'　she　whispered。
'Who？　Gladus？'
She　shook　her　head。　'Not　Gladus。　He's　never　coming。　None　of　them　are　coming。　They've　all　read　your　pretty；　begging　letters　and
erased　them。　You're　a　heretic　and　they　won't　begin　to　deal　with　you。'
'I　know　the　people　I've　written　to；　Ungish。　None　of　them　would　dismiss　me　so。'
She　looked　round　into　my　face；　her　head