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'At　Kasr　Geth；　you　told　me　to　make　my　weapons　sounder　next　time；　monster！'　I　howled；　and　impaled　its　charging　form　on　the　steel
pole　of　the　runestaff。　'Is　this　sound　enough？'
Prophaniti　screamed　and　exploded；　blowing　me　off　my　feet。　I　don't　think　I　banished　it。　I　think　I　obliterated　its　essence　forever。
The　runestaff　was；　miraculously；　unscathed；　and　lay　amid　the　rubble。　But　Prophaniti's　dissipating　being　had　made　it　white　hot　from
base　to　cap；　and　I　could　not　pick　it　up　again。
I　ran　across　to　Titus　Endor　and　Inshabel；　both　of　whom　lolled　weakly　on　the　floor。
Inshabel　was　dazed　but　intact。　Endor　had　daemon　gashes　across　his　chest　and　neck。　He　looked　up　at　me　blearily。
'You　got　them　both；　Gregor…'
'I　pray　there　are　no　more；'　I　replied；　trying　to　staunch　his　bleeding。　His　rosette　slid　out　of　his　coat　pocket　and　I　leaned　to　pick　it　up。
The　inquisitorial　symbol　was　decorated　with　the　ornate　crest　of　the　Ordo　Malleus。
'Malleus？'　I　hissed。
'No…'
'When　did　you　transfer；　Endor？　Damn　you；　when　did　you　change　ordos？'
'They　forced　me…'　he　wheezed；　'Osma　forced　me！　When　he　had　me　on　Messina…　there　were　certain　matters　from　a　case　a　few　years
ago。　He'd　got　his　hands　on　them　somehow…　He…　he　promised　I　would　burn　if　I　didn't　help　him　get　to　you。'

'What　matters？'
'Nothing！　Nothing；　Gregor；　I　swear！　But　he　had　Bezier's　backing！　He　could　have　made　anything　look　heretical！　I　transferred　orders　to
stop　him　breaking　me。　He　said　I　would　be　rewarded；　advanced。　He　said　Ordo　Malleus　was　a　better　prospect　for　me。'
'But　you　were　to　keep　an　eye　on　me？'
'I　told　him　nothing！　I　never　sold　you　out。　I　did　just　enough　to　keep　Osma　satisfied。'
'Like　coming　here。　No　wonder　you　hid　your　rosette。　He　wanted　you　to　take　me　down；　didn't　he？'
Endor　was　silent。　Inshabel　looked　on　in　stark　disbelief。
'I…　I　was　to　go　along　with　this　operation；　in　the　hope　that　it　might　be　successful。　Orsini's　under　no　illusions　that　Quixos　is　a　menace；
and　this　was　an　expedient　way；　perhaps；　of　eliminating　him。　If　you　were　still…　alive　at　the　end　of　it；　I　was　told　to　arrest　you　on　the
carta　charges。　Or；　if　you　resisted…'
'Get　him　up　to　ground　level；'　I　told　Inshabel　quietly。　'Find　him　a　medic。　Don't　let　him　out　of　your　sight。'
'Yes　sir！'
'Gregor！'　Endor　gasped　as　Inshabel　lifted　him。　'By　the　God…Emperor；　I　never　meant—'
'Get　him　out　of　here！'　I　growled。
THE　ASSAULT　ON　Ferell　Sidor　was　three　hours　old　when　Grumman；　Ricci　and　I　entered　the　undervault　of　the　excavation　pit。
Madorthene's　forces　were　still　locked　in　a　monumental　struggle　with　the　renegade's　warriors　throughout　the　warren　of　tunnels　and
chambers　in　the　table　mountain。
Ricci　was　weak　from　a　blade　wound；　and　all　of　his　bodyguards　were　dead。　Grumman　had　just　two　Kasrkin　left　with　him；　both　of　them
armed　with　lasrifles。
The　vast　undervault　was　an　excavated　pit　almost　a　kilometre　deep；　open　to　the　sky。　The　serebite　copy　of　the　Radian　pylon　rested　in　the
base　of　it；　surrounded　by　adamantite　scaffolding。　Gibbet　cages；　hundreds　of　them；　hung　from　the　scaffolding　on　chains。　In　each　one；
trapped　and　helpless；　was　a　human　body。
They　were　Quixos's　carefully　collected　arsenal　of　rogue　psykers；　secretly　acquired　from　all　over　the　Imperium。　It　must　have　taken　him
decades　to　accumulate　so　many。　One　of　them；　I　had　no　doubt；　was　Esarhaddon
'What　is　he　doing？'　Ricci　asked；　a　touch　of　awe　in　his　voice。
'Something　we　have　to　stop；'　said　Grumman；　with　a　direct　simplicity　I　appreciated。　It　was　the　only　answer　any　of　us　needed。
We　had　been　living　at　our　nerve　ends　since　the　assault　began；　and　were　wired　with　combat　sharpness。　Even　so；　despite　our　combined
experience　and　skill；　what　happened　next　took　us　all　totally　by　surprise。
One　moment　there　was　nothing。　The　next；　a　robed；　armoured　form　was　in　amongst　us；　moving　so　fast　it　was　simply　a　blur。
So　fast。　So　accursedly　fast。
Instantly；　Ricci　was　split　open　down　the　length　of　his　spine。　As　he　was　still　in　the　process　of　falling　on　his　face；　choking　on　his　own
blood；　one　of　the　Kasrkin　was　severed　at　the　waist；　and　toppled　in　halves；　his　gun　firing　spasmodically。　The　other　Kasrkin　folded　up
around　the　impaling　thrust　of　a　long；　dark　blade；　spontaneously　combusting　from　the　belly　out。
Grumman　pushed　me　out　of　the　way　as　the　devastating　blur　turned　again；　and　fired　his　laspistol　at　it　three　times。　Snapping　round　faster
than　my　eyes　could　follow；　the　long；　dark　blade　the　blur　was　wielding　deflected　each　crackling　shot。
Grumman's　head　left　his　shoulders。
Quixos；　the　arch…heretic；　the　renegade；　the　unforgivable　radical；　whirled　on　me　before　Grumman's　butchered　body　had　even　started　to
slump。
I　had　one　fleeting　glimpse　of　the　long　daemonsword；　Kharnagar。　It　was　gnarled　and　knotted　and　thick　with　abominable　runes　and
irregular　clawlike　serrations。
That's　all　I　saw　as　it　came　whistling　towards　my　face。

TWENTY…THREE
THE　HERETIC。
AFTERWARDS。
A　BARE　HAND'S　BREADTH　from　my　head；　the　blood…red　blade　came　to　a　dead　stop；　blocked　by　the　gleaming　steel　of　Barbarisater。
Time　seemed　to　stand　still　for　a　heartbeat。　We　faced　each　other；　our　blades　locked　together。　Quixos　had　been　a　speed…distorted
phantom　until　our　swords　had　struck。　Now　he　was　frozen；　glaring　between　the　crossed　blades　at　me。
The　renegade's　armour　was　ragged　and　filthy；　and　ornate　with　warp…signs。　His　inquisitorial　rosette　was　displayed；　incongruously；　on
his　right　shoulder　guard。　It　revolted　me　to　see　it　worn　amongst　such　corruption。
His　ancient　face　was　a　misshapen；　pustular　horror。　Rudimentary　antlers　bulged　from　his　brow。　His　skin　was　dark　like　granite。
Wheezing　augmetic　cables　and　implants　bulged　at　his　throat　and　under　the　dirty　head…cloth　he　wore。　His　eyes　were　shining　balls　of
blood。
In　honesty；　he　was　a　disappointing　little　monster　compared　to　the　notion　of　him　that　had　built　up　in　my　mind。　But　there　was　no
denying　his　inhuman　strength　and　speed。

Eisenhorn；　he　said。　It　was　psychic。　His　twisted　mouth　didn't　open。
Barbarisater　felt　him　move　before　I　did。　It　lurched　in　my　hands。　In　the　time　it　takes　to　draw　a　breath；　we　had　exchanged　a　flurry　of
twenty　or　more　blows。　The　talon…edged　blade　of　Kharnager　rang　dully　off　the　Carthaen　steel。　Barbarisater's　pentagrammatic　runes
flashed　and　flared　with　discharging　energy。　Kharnager　groaned　softly。
Heretic！　Slave　of　Chaos！　his　raw；　broken　mind…voice　railed　in　my　brain。
You　speak　of　yourself！　I　returned。　Our　blades　continued　to　ring　off　one　another；　hunting　for　a　gap；　mutually　denied。
Why　would　you　try　to　end　my　work　here　if　you　were　not　a　minion　of　the　warp？
Your　work？　This　thing？
We　broke；　and　then　came　in　again；　blades　striking　so　fast　the　noise　became　one　long　ringing　tone。　I　barely　made　an　ulsar　in　time　to
stop　one　of　his　rapid　down…stabs。　He　blocked　my　response　of　a　tahn　wyla；　and　the　uru　arav　that　I　followed　it　with。
This　is　just　the　test；　the　prototype。　Once　the　trials　with　it　are　conducted；　then　my　work　will　flower！
You　carve　up　a　mountain…　for　a　prototype？　A　prototype　of　what？
The　pylons　of　Cadia　pacify　the　warp；　he　spat。　By　amplifying　them　using　extreme…level　psykers；　they　could　be　made　into　a　weapon。　A
weapon　to　destroy　the　warp！　A　weapon　to　collapse　the　Eye　of　Terror　in　upon　itself！
He　was　raving；　insane。　What　patches　of　truth　or　sane　notions　might　lurk　in　his　words；　I　had　no　idea。　There　was　no　way　to　distinguish
them　from　his　lunatic　fancy。　All　I　knew　was　that　a　pylon；　psychically　super…charged；　might　do　all　manner　of　things；　but　its　side…effects
would　be　catastrophic。　It　could　lay　waste　to　the　continent；　the　planet。
I　think；　and　here　lay　the　true　horror　of　it；　I　think　Quixos　knew　that。　I　think　he　considered　that　to　be　an　acceptable　price　to　pay；　just　as
he　had　considered　the　atrocity　on　Thracian　a　necessary　cost　to　obtain　a　psyker　of　such　peerless　quality　as　Esarhaddon。　What　other
abominations　had　he　caused　in　acquiring　the　others？
As　Grumman　had　said；　just　before　his　death；　this　simply　had　to　be　stopped。
I　looked　at　his　face。
This　was　where　radicalism　led。　This　was　the　true　face　of　one　who　had　reached　the　place　and　crossed　the　line。　This　was　the　obscene
reality　behind　Pontius　Glaw's　jaunty　glorifications　of　Chaos。
We　rained　blows　at　each　other；　drawing　sparks　and　little　curls　of　vapour　from　the