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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