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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