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'Why？'
'It　is　three　hundred　years　since　I　have　tasted　anything。　Smelt　anything。　Touched　anything。'
I　had　feared　my　gambit　with　the　amasec　and　the　opiate　too　obvious；　but　it　had　drawn　him　in。　'It　feels　like　oil　on　my　tongue；　soft；　bodyheat。
The　aroma　precedes　the　taste；　like　peat　and　pepper；　spiced。　The　taste　is　a　burn　in　the　throat　that　lights　a　fire　behind　my　heart。'
The　casket　made　a　long；　mournful　sound　of　tantalised　regret。
'The　third　step？'　I　prompted。
'The　third　step…　the　third　step　is　the　line　itself。　es　a　radical。　When　he　chooses　to　use　Chaos　against　Chaos。
When　he　employs　the　agencies　of　the　warp。　When　he　asks　the　heretical　for　help。'
'I　see。'
'I'm　sure　you　do。　So…　are　you　going　to　ask　me　to　help　you？'
'Yes。　Will　you　give　me　that　help？'
'It　depends；'　the　casket　murmured。　'What's　in　it　for　me？'
I　stubbed　out　the　lho…stick。　'Given　what　you've　just　said；　I　assume　your　reward　would　be　the　satisfaction　of　seeing　me　cross　that　line
and　damn　myself。'
'Ha　ha！　Very　clever！　I'm　enjoying　that　part　already。　What　else？'
I　turned　the　glass　in　my　hand；　swilling　the　amber　spirit　around。　'Magos　Bure　is　a　talented　man。　A　master　of　machinery。　Though　I
would　never　release　you　from　imprisonment；　I　could　perhaps　ask　him　for　a　favour。'
'A　favour？'　Pontius　echoed　with　trembling　anticipation。
'A　body　for　you。　A　servitor　chassis。　The　ability　to　walk；　reach；　hold；　see。　Perhaps　even　the　finessing　extras　of　sense　actuators：
rudimentary　touch；　smell；　taste。　That　would　be　child's　play　for　him。'
'Gods　of　the　warp！'　he　whispered。
'Well？'
'Ask。　Ask　me。　Ask　me；　Eisenhorn。'
'Let　us　talk　for　a　while…　on　the　subject　of　daemonhosts。'
'DO　YOU　KNOW　what　you're　doing？'　Fischig　said　to　me。
'Of　course；'　I　said。　We　had　taken　over　the　security　office　in　Cinchare　minehead　as　our　base。　Bequin　and　Aemos　had　set　the　place
straight　and　got　it　running　properly；　and　Medea；　Inshabel；　Nayl　and　Fischig　patrolled　the　area　regularly。　Bure　had　provided　servitorstalkers
as　additional　guards；　and　a　vox…uplink　had　been　established　with　the　orbiting　Essene　to　forewarn　us　of　any　arriving　space
traffic。
It　was　late　one　afternoon　in　the　third　week　of　our　visit　to　the　mining　rock。　I　had　just　returned　from　my　daily　visit　to　Glaw's　cell　in　the
Mechanicus　annex　and　I　stood　with　Fischig　by　the　windows　of　the　office；　looking　down　into　the　plaza。
'Really　sure？'　he　pressed。
'I　seem　to　remember　him　asking　us　the　same　thing　when　we　sprang　him　from　the　Carnificina；'　said　Bequin；　coming　over　to　join　us。
'Thanks　to　Osma　and　his　ridiculous　witch…hunt；　we've　been　forced　into　a　corner。　If　we　can　come　through　this　successfully；　we　will
redeem　ourselves。'
Fischig　snorted。　'I　just　don't　like　it。　Not　dealing　with　that　butcher。　Not　promising　him　anything。　I　feel　like　we've　crossed　the　line—'
'What？'　I　asked　sharply。　I　had　told　them　only　the　very　sparest　details　of　my　conversations。
'I　said　I　felt　like　we'd　crossed　the　line。　What's　the　matter？'
I　shook　my　head。　'Nothing。　How　are　the　rest　of　the　preparations　going？'

I　sensed　Fischig　wanted　to　have　it　out；　but　it　was　really　too　late　for　that。　I　deflected　him　with　the　subject　change。
'Your　magos　friend　is　working。　Nayl　took　him　the　blade　yesterday　and　showed　him　your　notes　and　diagrams；'　he　said。
'The　communiques　are　all　written；　encrypted　and　sealed；　ready　to　be　sent；'　said　Bequin。　'Just　give　the　word；　and　Ungish　will　transmit
them。　And　I　have　the　declaration　here。'　She　handed　me　a　data…slate。
It　was　a　carta　extremis　formally　declaring　Quixos　Heretic　and　Extremis　Diabolus；　naming　his　crimes　and　given　in　my　authority。　It　was
dated　the　twentieth　day　of　the　tenth　month；　340。M41。　There　was　no　location　of　issue；　but　Aemos　had　made　certain　all　the　other
particulars　were　phrased　precisely　according　to　High　Imperial　Law　and　the　statutes　of　the　Inquisition。
'Good。　We'll　send　that　in　a　few　days。'　I　knew　that　the　moment　the　carta　was　published；　my　agenda　would　be　known。　The　scheme　I　was
embarking　on　might　take　years　to　complete；　and　all　that　time　I　would　be　hunted。　I　really　didn't　want　to　stir　things　up　so　soon。
'How　much　longer　will　we　be　here？'　Bequin　asked。
'I　don't　know。　Another　week？　A　month？　Longer？　It　depends　on　how　forthcoming　Glaw　decides　to　be。'
'But　you've　got　things　from　him　already？'　asked　Fischig。
'Yes。'　Not　too　much；　I　hoped。
I　WALKED　THROUGH　the　empty　streets　of　the　minehead　for　an　hour　or　two　that　evening　to　clear　my　mind。　I　knew　damn　well　that　I　was
choosing　a　dangerous　path。　I　had　to　remain　focussed　or　I　risked　losing　control。
Once　I'd　got　the　upper　hand　with　Glaw；　I'd　been　playing　with　him　during　those　early　conversations。　His　talk　of　the　line；　his　three…step
description　of　the　corruption　that　awaited　an　imprudent　inquisitor…　that　was　nothing　new　to　me。　I　had　indulged　him　so　that　he　might
feel　superior　and　smug。　Any　inquisitor　worth　the　rosette　knew　the　perils　and　temptations　that　surrounded　him。
But　it　didn't　stop　his　words　from　cutting　me。　Every　puritanical　Commodus　Voke　was　a　potential　Quixos。　When　Glaw　said　that　the　line
was　often　crossed　without　it　being　recognised；　he　was　right。　I'd　met　enough　radicals　to　know　that。
I　had　always；　always　prided　myself　on　my　puritanical　stance；　moderate　and　Amalathian　though　it　might　be。　I　deplored　the　radical
heresies。　That's　why　I　wanted　Quixos。
But　I　worried　still。　I　considered　what　I　was　doing　to　be　risky；　of　course；　but　also　pragmatic　given　my　difficult　situation。　To　destroy
Quixos；　I　had　to　get　past　his　daemonhosts；　and　that　required　power；　knowledge　and　expertise。　And　I　could　no　longer　turn　to　the　Holy
Inquisition　for　support。　But　had　I　crossed　the　line？　Was　I　becoming　guilty　of　sins　that　could　so　easily　escalate　into　radical
abomination？　Was　I　so　obsessed　with　bringing　Quixos　to　justice　that　I　was　abandoning　my　own　principles？
I　was　sure　I　was　not。　I　knew　what　I　was　doing；　and　I　was　taking　every　precaution　I　could　to　manage　the　more　dangerous　elements　I
was　employing。　I　was　pure　and　true；　even　now。
And　if　I　wasn't；　how　could　I　tell？
I　CLIMBED　AN　observation　mast　that　rose　above　the　mine　settlement　and　lingered　for　a　while　in　the　caged　glass　blister　at　the　top；
looking　out　across　the　town's　skyline　to　the　ragged　blue　landscape　of　Cinchare；　and　the　gliding　stars　beyond　it。　Shoals　of　meteors
burned　bright　lines　down　the　sky。
There　was　a　noise　on　the　stairs　behind　me。　It　was　Nayl。
He　put　away　his　sidearm。　'It's　you；'　he　said；　joining　me　in　the　blister。　'I　was　patrolling　and　I　saw　the　tower　door　open。　'Everything　all
right？'
I　nodded。　'You　fight　dirty　sometimes；　don't　you；　Harlon？'
He　looked　at　me　quizzically　and　scratched　his　shaved　scalp。　'Not　sure　I　know　what　you　mean；　boss；'　he　said。
'All　those　years；　bounty　hunting…　and　I've　seen　you　fight；　remember？　Sometimes　you　have　to　break　the　rales　to　win。'
'I　suppose　so。　When　all's　said　and　done；　you　use　whatever　works。　I'm　not　proud　of　some　of　my　more…　ruthless　moments。　But　they're
necessary。　I've　always　been　of　the　opinion　that　fairplay　is　overrated。　The　bastard　trying　to　skin　you　won't　be　playing　fair；　that's　for
sure。　You　do　what　you　have　to　do。'
'The　end　justifies　the　means？'
He　raised　his　eyebrows　and　laughed。　'Now　that's　different。　That　kind　of　thinking　gets　a　man　into　trouble。　There　are　some　means　that　no
end　will　ever　justify。　But　fighting　dirty；　occasionally；　is　no　bad　thing。　Neither's　breaking　the　rules。　Provided　you　remember　one　thing。'
'Which　is？'
'You　have　to　understand　the　rales　in　the　first　place　if　you're　going　to　break　them。'
APART　FROM　MY　daily　visits　to　Glaw　in　the　annex；　I　also　spent　time　with　Bure。　He　was　labouring　in　his　workshops；　assisted　by
servitors　and　his　tech…adepts。　He　had　thrown　himself　totally　into　the　tasks　I　had　set　him。　Though　he　never　said；　I　think　he　saw　it　as
returning　with　interest　my　efforts　in　the　battle　with　the　Lith。
He　had　also　listened　without　alarm　when　Aemos　and　I　had　related　the　history　of　the　recent　past。　It　felt　like　a　confession。　I　explained
the　carta　out　against　me；　my　rogue　status。　He　had　accepted　my　innocence　without　question。　As　he　put　it；　'Hapshant　wouldn't　have
raised　a　radical。　It's　the　rest　of　the　galaxy　that's　wrong。'
That　was　good　enough　for　him。　I　oved。
One　day　in　the　sixth　week　of　our　increasingly　prolonged