Dan Abnett - Eisenhorn Omnibus

'Pontius Glaw…' 1 murmured.

Pontius Glaw had been dead for more than two hundred years. The seventh son of Oberon Glaw, one of the great patriarchs of that line, he had suffered the fate of most junior siblings in that there had been precious little for him to inherit once his older brothers had taken their turn. His eldest brother, another Oberon, had become lord of the house; the second eldest had been gifted the control of the stock-holdings; the third had taken on the captaincy of the House Militia; the fourth and fifth had married politically and entered the Administratum at high level… and so it went.

From what I remembered of Pontius Glaw's biography, required reading as a trainee, Pontius had become a dilettante, wasting his life, his robust virility, charisma and finely educated intellect in all manner of worthless pursuits. He had gambled away a significant measure of his personal fortune, then rebuilt it on the revenues of slave-trading and pit-fighting. A ruthless sliver of brutality stained his record.

And then, in his forties, with his health ruined by years of abuse, he turned to a much darker path. It has always been suspected that this turn was triggered by some chance event: an artefact or document that fell into his hands, perhaps the strange beliefs of some of the more barbaric pit-fighters he enslaved. Instinct told me the propensity had always been within him, and that he was looking for a chance to let it flourish. It is documented he was a life-long collector of rare and often prohibited books. At what point might his appetite for licentious and esoteric pornography have spilled over into the heretical and blasphemous?

Pontius Glaw became a disciple of Chaos, a devotee of the most abominable and obscene forces that haunt this galaxy. He drew a coven around him, and over a period of fifteen years committed unspeakable and increasingly brazen acts of evil.

He was slain eventually, his coven along with him, on Lamsarrote, by an inquisitorial purge led by the great Absalom Angevin. House Glaw

participated in this overthrow, desperate to be seen to distance themselves from his crimes. It is likely this alone prevented the entire family from being pulled down with him.

A monster, a notorious monster. And dead, as Aemos had been so quick to point out. Dead for more than two centuries.

But the name and the connection of facts seemed too obvious to ignore.

I wandered up to the cockpit and sat with Betancore. 'We'll need passage off-world, to Gudrun.'

'I'll arrange it. It may be a day or two.'

'As fast as you can.'

I sent word to High Custodian Carpel, informing him of some, though not all, of my findings and telling him I would shortly be leaving to continue my investigations on Gudrun. I was reading through the confidential case records of Inquisitor Angevin when two Arbites brought Bequin to my gun-cutter. I had sent orders for her to be delivered into my charge.

She stood in the crew-bay, frowning in the gloom, cuffed. She had dressed in a tawdry gown and a light cloak, but despite the cheapness of her garb and the discomfort she was in, her considerable beauty was plain to see. Good bones, a full mouth, fierce eyes and long dark hair. Yet, again, there was that air about her, that tone I had detected before. Despite her obvious physical attractions, there was something almost repellent about her. It was curious, but I was convinced I knew what it was.

She glanced round as I entered the crew-bay, her expression a mix of fear and indignation.

'I helped you!' she spat.

'You did. Though I neither asked for nor needed your help.'

She pouted. That air was stronger now, an unpleasant feeling that made me want to bundle her out of the cutter and have done with her then and there.

'The Arbites say they will charge me wim murder and conspiracy.'

The Arbites desperately want someone to pin the crimes on. You are unhappily involved in those matters, though I don't believe deliberately'

'Damn right!' she snarled. 'This has ruined me, my life here! Just when I was getting things together.

Your life has been difficult?'

She fixed me with a sneer that questioned my intelligence. I'm a pleasure girl, an object, it seemed to say, lowest of the low… how difficult do you think my life has been?

I stepped forward and removed the Arbites' cuffs. She rubbed her wrists and looked at me in surprise.

'Sit down/ I told her. I was using the will.

She looked at me again, as if wondering what the funny tone was all about, and then calmly took a seat on a padded leather bench along the crew-bay's back wall.

'I can make sure the charges are dropped,' I told her. 'I have that authority. Indeed, my authority is the only reason you haven't been charged or interrogated so far.'

'Why would you do that?'

'I thought you believed I owed you?'

'Doesn't matter what I believe.' There was sullen cast to her face as she looked me up and down. I found myself intrigued. Objectively, 1 was looking at a girl whose looks and vivacious spirit made her undeniably desirable. Yet I… I almost wanted to shout at her, to drive her away, to get her out of my sight. I had an entirely unwarranted and instinctive loathing for her.

'Even if you clear me, I can't carry on here. They'll hound me out. I'll be marked as trouble. That'll be the end of my work. I'll have to move on again.' She stared down at the floor and muttered a curse. 'Just when I was getting it together!'

'Move on? You're not from Hubris?'

This miserable shit-pit?'

"Where then?'

'I came here from Thracian Primaris four years ago.'

'You were born on Thracian?'

She shook her head. 'Bonaventure.'

That was half a sector away. 'How did you get from Bonaventure to Thracian?'

'By way of this and that. Here and there. I've travelled a lot. Never stayed put very long.'

'Because things get difficult?'

The sneer again. That's right. I'd stuck it out here longer than anywhere. Now that's all screwed up/

'Stand up,' I snapped suddenly, using the will again.

She paused and shrugged at me. 'Make your mind up.' She got to her feet.

'I want to ask you some questions about the men who employed you at Thaw-view 12011.'

'I thought you might.'

If you answer helpfully, I can cut you a deal.'

What sort of deal?'

'I can take you to Gudrun. Give you a chance to make a new start. Or I can offer you employment, if you're interested.'

She smiled quizzically. It was the first positive expression I had seen on her. It made her more beautiful, but I didn't like her any better.

'Employment? You'd employ me? An inquisitor would employ me?'

'That's right. Certain services I think you can provide/

She took two fluid steps over to me and placed her hands flat against my chest. 'I see/ she said. 'Even big bad inquisitors have needs, huh? That's fine/

'You misunderstand/ I replied, pushing her back as politely as I could. Physical contact with her made the unnatural feeling of revulsion even

stronger. 'The services I have in mind will be new to you. Not the sort of work you are accustomed to. Are you still interested?'

She set her head on one side and considered me. You're an odd one, all right. Are all inquisitors like you?'

'No/

I ordered the servitor, Modo, to provide her with refreshment and left her in the crew-bay. Betancore was stood in the shadows outside the door, gazing in at her appreciatively.

'She's a fine sight/ he murmured to me as if I might not have noticed.

You forget Vibben so quickly?'

He snapped round at me, stung. 'That was low, Eisenhorn. I was just commenting/

You'll like her less when you get to know her. She's an untouchable/

'Seriously?'

'Seriously. A psychic blank. It's natural, and I haven't tested her limits. It's all I can do to be in the same room as her/