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senaculum　with　its　gleaming；　ceramite…plated　shatrovy　pyramid。　Ahead；　lay　the　minster　of　the　Inquisition。　The　vox…ponder　pinged
again　as　the　gun…walls　along　the　deep　approach　followed　us。
Fischig　settled　the　speeder　down　on　the　spicae　testicae　paving　of　the　minster's　inner　yard；　where　sunken　guide…lights　stitched　out　a
winking　cross。　Inquisitorial　guards　in　gold…laced　burgundy　armour　approached　us　as　we　swung　back　the　speeder's　canopy　and　climbed
out。
I　showed　the　nearest　one　my　rosette。
He　clipped　his　heels　together　and　saluted。
'My　lord。'
'I　wish　to　see　the　inquisitor　general。'
'I　will　inform　her　staff；'　he　said　obediently；　and　hurried　away　across　the　herringbone　paving；　holding　up　his　baldric　so　his　power　sword
wouldn't　trip　him。
'You　won't　like　her；'　Fischig　said　as　he　came　round　the　parked　speeder　to　join　me。　'Why？'
'Ah；　trust　me。　You　just　won't。'
'IT'S　LATE。　I　had　finished　business　for　the　day；'　said　Inquisitor　General　Neve；　stabbing　her　holoquill　back　into　the　brass　power…well　on
the　desk。
'My　apologies；　madam。'
'Don't　bother。　I'm　not　about　to　shut　my　doors　to　the　famous　Inquisitor　Eisenhorn。　We're　a　long　way　from　the　Helican　sub；　but　your
fame　precedes　you。'
'In　a　good　way；　I　hope。'
The　inquisitor　general　rose　from　her　writing　desk　and　straightened　the　front　of　her　green　flannel　robe。　She　was　a　short；　sturdy　woman
in　her　late　one　tens；　if　my　eye　was　any　judge；　with　salt　and　pepper　hair　plied　back　tightly　into　a　bourse。　She　had　the　typical　pale；　tight
flesh　and　violet　eyes　of　a　Cadian。
'Whatever；'　she　snapped。
We　stood　in　her　sanctum；　an　octastyle　chamber　with　a　black　and　white　cosmati　floor　and　aethercite　walls　inscribed　with　a　waterleaf
design。　It　was　lit　with　rushlights　and　the　flame　glow　accented　the　carved　lotus　motif。
Inquisitor　General　Neve　clumped　around　her　desk　to　face　us；　leaning　on　an　ornate　silver　crutch。
'You'll　want　to　be　reviewing　the　Bael　records；　I　suppose？'
'How　did　you　guess？'　I　asked。
She　favoured　her　weight　on　her　sound　foot　and　pointed　the　rubber…capped　toe　of　the　crutch　at　Fischig。
'Him；　I　know。　He's　been　here　before。　One　of　yours；　I　suppose；　inquisitor。'
'One　of　my　best。'
She　arched　her　spare；　plucked　eyebrows。　'Hah。　Much　that　says　about　you。　Come　on。　The　archivum。'
A　DIM　SCREW…STAIR　led　down　to　the　basement　archivum。　The　turning　steps　of　the　spiral　were　hard　for　her　to　manage；　but　she　shooed
me　away　curtly　when　I　offered　to　assist　her。
'I　meant　no　insult；　inquisitor　general；'　I　said。
'Your　kind　never　do；'　she　snapped。　I　felt　it　wasn't　the　moment　to　inquire　what　kind　that　might　be。
The　archivum　was　a　long；　panelled　chamber　lit　only　by　the　lamps　of　the　double…faced　desk…row　that　ran　down　its　middle。
'Light　buoy！'　Neve　snarled；　and　a　servitor…skull　drifted　down　from　the　coffered　ceiling；　hovering　at　her　shoulder　and　igniting　its
halogen　eye…beams。
'Bael；　Sons　of。　Find；'　she　told　it；　and　it　coursed　away；　turning　and　dipping；　sweeping　the　racks　of　the　catalogue　with　its　twin　spears　of
light。

It　stopped；　eight　sections　down；　and　began　to　buzz　around　a　shelf　groaning　with　data…slates；　file　tubes　and　dusty　paper　books。
Fischig　and　I　followed　Neve　as　she　hobbled　over　to　join　it。
'Sons　of…　Sons　of…　Sons　of　Teuth；　Sons　of　Macharius；　sons　of　bitches。　She　glanced　round　at　me。　That　passes　for　humour　here；
Eisenhorn。'
'I'm　sure　it　does；　madam。'
Her　fingers　went　back　to　the　stacks；　running　along　the　fraying　spines　and　tagged　slate…sleeves；　following　the　skull…buoy's　light　beams。
'Sons　of　Barabus…　Sons　of　Balkar…　Here！　Here　it　is。　Sons　of　Bael。'
She　pulled　a　file　case　off　the　shelf；　blew　the　dust　off　it　into　my　face　and　handed　it　to　me。　'Put　it　back　where　you　found　it　when　you've
finished；'　she　said。　She　turned　to　go。
'Your　pardon；　wait；'　I　said。
Two　emphatic　thumps　of　her　cratch　swung　her　around　to　face　me　again。
'What？'
'Your　predecessor…　um…'
'Gorfal；'　whispered　Fischig。
'Gorfal。　He　burned　the　members　of　this　cult　without　examination。　Have　you　never　reviewed　the　case？'
She　smiled　at　me。　It　wasn't　encouraging。
'You　know；　Eisenhorn…　I　always　imagined　roving　inquisitors　like　you　had　adventurous；　exciting　lives。　All　so　very　exhilarating；　all
that　celebrity　and　heroism　and　notoriety。　To　think　I　used　to　dream　of　being　like　you。　You　have　no　idea；　do　you？'
'With　respect；　inquisitor　general…　of　what？'
She　gestured　at　the　file　case　I　was　clutching。　'The　crap。　The　nonsense。　The　bric…a…brac。　The　Sons　of　Bael？　Why　the　hell　should　I
review　that　case？　It's　dead；　dead　and　nothing。　A　bunch　of　fools　who　were　pulled　off　the　West…moorland　pylon　in　the　middle　of　the
night　for　playing　around　with　geo…locators。　Whoooo！　I'm　so　scared！　Imagine　that；　they're　measuring　us！　Do　you　have　any　idea　what
this　wardship　is　like？'
'Inquisitor　general；　I—'
'Do　you？　This　is　Cadia；　you　silly　fool！　Cadia！　Right　on　the　doorway　of　Chaos！　Right　in　the　heart　of　everything！　The　seepage　of　evil　is
so　great；　I　have　a　hundred　active　cults　to　subdue　every　month！　A　hundred！　The　place　breeds　recidivists　like　a　pond　breeds　scum。　I
sleep　three　or　four　hours　a　night　if　I'm　lucky。　My　vox　chimes　and　I'm　up；　called　out　to　another　nest　of　poison　that　the　arbites　have
uncovered。　Firefights　in　the　street；　Eisenhorn！　Running　battles　with　the　foot　soldiers　of　the　archenemy！　I　can　barely　keep　up　with　the
day…to…day　banishments；　forget　the　past　cases　my　crap…witted　predecessor　filed。　This　is　Cadia！　This　is　the　Gate　of　the　Eye！　This　is
where　the　bloody　work　of　the　Inquisition　is　done！　Don't　distract　me　with　stories　of　some　engineering　club　gone　bad。'
'My　apologies。'
'Taken。　See　yourselves　out。'　She　limped　away。
'Neve？'
She　turned。　I　dropped　the　file　case　on　to　the　reading　table。
'They　might　have　been　idiots；'　I　said；　'but　they're　the　only　solid　link　I　have　to　a　daemonhost　that　could　destroy　us　all。'
'A　daemonhost？'　she　said。
'That's　right。　And　the　beast　that　controls　it。　A　beast　that；　if　I'm　right…　is　one　of　ours。'
She　lurched　back　down　the　archivum。
'Convince　me；'　she　said。

THIRTEEN
A　REUNION。
WAR〣ELLS。
THE　LONG；　SLOW　TASK　BEGINS。
I　DON'T　KNOW　if　I　did　convince　the　inquisitor　general。　I　don't　know　if　I　could。　But　she　heard　me　out　and　stayed　around　for　another　two
hours；　helping　to　locate　the　files　of　connected　cases　and　other　materials。　Past　nine；　she　was　called　away　to　a　disturbance　on　an　island
community　in　the　Caducades。　Before　she　left；　she　offered　accommodation　for　me　and　my　staff　in　the　minster；　which　I　politely
declined；　and　made　it　clear　that　I　had　her　permission　to　continue　my　investigation　in　Kasr　Derth；　provided　I　kept　her　informed。
'I've　heard　stories　about　your…　adventures；　Eisenhorn。　I　don't　want　anything　like　that　happening　on　my　turf。　Do　we　understand　each
other？'
'We　do。'
'Good　night；　then。　And　good　hunting。'
Fischig　and　I　were　left　alone　in　the　archivum。
'You　were　wrong；'　I　told　him。
'How's　that？'

'I　did　like　her。'
'Hah！　That　hard…nosed　bitch？'
'Actually；　I　liked　her　because　she　was　a　hard…nosed　bitch。'
I　always　took　pleasure　in　meeting　a　fellow　inquisitor　who　conducted　their　work　fairly　and　seriously；　even　if　their　methods　differed
from　mine。　Neve　was　a　thoroughbred　puritan；　and　lacked　patience。　She　was　abrupt　to　the　point　of　rudeness。　She　was　over…worked。　But
she　called　things　as　she　saw　them；　despised　sloppiness；　and　took　the　threats　to　our　society　and　way　of　life　completely　seriously。　In　my
opinion；　there　was　no　other　way　for　an　inquisitor　to　behave。
WE　WORKED　ON　until　midnight；　studying　and　collating　the　contents　of　hundreds　of　case…files。
By　then；　the　gun…cutter　had　arrived　from　the　landing　fields　at　Kasr　Tyrok；　in　response　to　my　vox…summons。　Fischig　found　one　of
Neve's　rubricators　and　charged　him　with　making　data…slate　copies　of　the　most　promising　files　ready　for　our　return　in　the　morning。
Then　we　got　back　into　the　speeder　and　flew　through　the　castellum's　zig…zag　streets　to　the　town　field。
The　stars　were　out；　and　it　was　cool。　Noctule　moths　fluttered　around　the　landing　lights　of　the　waiting　cutter。
There　was　a　mauve　smudge　in　the　night　sky；　down　low　over　the　eastern　horizon。　The　rising　nebula　of　the　Eye　of　Terror。　Even　from
this　great　distance；　just　a　blur　in　the　heavens；　it　put　a　chill　into　me。　If　the　two…headed　eagle　symbolises