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le　time　before　resigning　to　join
me。
ed　the　prize；　and　why　they　sometimes　fell　to　disputing　it　when　the　hour　was　late　and　the　amasec
unstoppered。

His　was　a　big　man；　of　my　own　age；　his　cropped　blond　hair　now　turning　silver。　But　he　was　as　robust　as　ever；　clad　in　a　coat　of　black　fur；
a　mail　sur…coat　and　steel…fronted　boots。
He　shook　my　hand。
'I　was　beginning　to　think　you　wouldn't　make　it。'
'I　was　beginning　to　think　so　too。'
He　cocked　his　head　slightly。　'Trouble？'
'Like　you　wouldn't　believe。　Let's　walk　and　I'll　tell　you。'
WE　WANDERED　BACK　down　the　tree…shrouded　path　together。　He　knew　something　of　the　atrocity　on　Thracian；　which　was　by　then　some
seven　mondis　past；　but　he　had　no　idea　I　had　been　caught　up　in　it。
When　I　told　him　the　details；　especially　about　Ravenor；　his　face　darkened。
He　had　admired　Gideon　…　frankly；　it　had　been　difficult　not　to　admire　Gideon　…　and　I　sometimes　felt　that　Gideon　was　the　man　Fischig
would　have　liked　to　have　been。
Fischig's　great　strength　was　his　self…knowledge。　He　understood　his　own　limitations。　His　strengths　were　loyalty；　physical　power；　fine
combat　skills；　observation　and　a　nose　for　detail。　He　was　not　quick　witted；　and　his　abhorrence　of　book…learning　meant　that　even　the
rank　of　interrogator　was　beyond　him。　Though　he　would　have　loved　to　rise　formally　through　the　ranks　of　the　Inquisition；　he　had　never
tried；　contenting　himself　with　becoming　one　of　the　fundamental　components　of　my　staff。
To　try；　he　knew；　would　have　meant　failure。　And　Godwyn　Fischig　hated　to　fail。
WE　CROSSED　THE　narrow　funeral　lane　and　went　into　the　grave　field　by　the　old　lychgate　in　the　low　wall。　I　told　him　about　Lyko；　and
Esarhaddon。　I　told　him　of　the　warnings　from　Endor　and　Lord　Rorken。　I　told　him　about　the　bloody；　inconclusive　mess　on　Eechan。　I　told
him　about　Cherubael。
'I　would　have　come　as　soon　as　I　received　your　message。　But　Rorken　practically　forbade　me。　And　then；　as　you　have　heard；　matters　got
out　of　hand。'
He　nodded。　'Don't　worry；　I'm　a　patient　man。'
We　stood　for　a　moment　in　the　middle　of　the　vast　field　of　graves。　Several　shivering　priests　in　ragged　black　robes　were　wandering
through　the　lines　of　crumbling　gravestones；　pausing　to　study　each　one。
'What　are　they　doing？'
'Reading　the　names；'　he　said。
'What　for？'
'To　see　if　they　can　be　read。'
'Okay…　why？'
'As　you　might　imagine；　a　martial　world　like　this　produces　many　dead。　Long　ago；　an　edict　was　made　by　the　planetary　government　that
only　certain　fields　of　land　could　ever　be　used　for　burial。　So　cemetery　space　is　at　an　optimum。　Hence；　the　Law　of　Decipherability。'
'Which　is？'
'The　law　states　that　once　the　eroding　hands　of　time　and　the　elements　have　made　the　last　names　on　a　field's　gravestones　illegible；　the
anonymous　dead　may　be　exhumed；　the　bones　buried　in　a　pit；　and　the　field　reused。'
'So　they　tend　the　field　for　years　until　the　names　can　no　longer　be　read？'
He　shrugged。　'It's　their　way。　Once　the　names　have　vanished；　so　has　the　memory；　and　so　has　any　need　for　honour。　The　time's　coming
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