Dan Abnett - Eisenhorn Omnibus

I went то see Carpel at noon the next day. It was always noon in the Sun-dome, but this was real noon by the clock. By then, Lowink, Aemos and Betancore had all dredged up new information for me.

I shaved, and dressed in black linen with high boots and a formal jacket of scaled brown hide. I wore my inquisitorial rosette at my throat. I intended to show Carpel I meant business.

Aemos and I descended from the landing platform superstructure by caged elevator and found yellow-robed custodians waiting to escort us. Despite the rancid white light all around, they still held ignited light poles. We made short, hard shadows on the dry rockcrete of the concourse as we crossed to an open limousine. It was a massive chrome-grilled beast with pennants bearing the Hubris crest fluttering on its cowling. There were four rows of overstuffed leather benches behind the centre-set driver's cockpit.

We hummed through the streets on eight fat wheels. The boulevards were wide and, needless to say, bright. To either hand, glass-fronted buildings rose towards the blazing plasma sun-globe high above, like flowers seeking the light. Every thirty metres along every street, chemical lamps on ornate posts strained to add their own light to the brilliance.

Traffic was sparse, and there were at most a few thousand pedestrians on the streets. I noticed most wore yellow silk sashes, and that garlands of yellow flowers decorated every lamp post.

The flowers?' I asked.

'From the hydroponic farms on east-dome seven/ one of the custodians told me.

'Signifying?'

'Mourning.'

'Same as the sashes/ Aemos whispered in confidence. 'What happened last night is a major tragedy for this world. Yellow is their holy colour. I believe the local religion is a solar belief

The sun as Emperor?'

'Common enough. Extreme here, for obvious reasons.'

The custodial hall was a glass spire close to the town centre, a solar disk overlaid with the double-headed eagle of the Imperium decorating its upper faces. Nearby was the local chapel of the Ecclesiarchy, and several buildings given over to the Imperial Administratum. It amused me to see they were all built of black stone and virtually windowless. Those Imperial servants stationed here obviously had as little track as me with the constant light.

We drew in under a glass portico and were escorted into the main hall. It was seething with people, most of them custodians in yellow robes, some local officials and technomagi, some clerks and servitors. The hall itself was of the scale of an Imperial chapel, but raised in yellow-stained glass on a frame of black cast-iron. The air was full of golden light shafting down through the glass. The carpet was vast, black, with a sun-disk woven into its centre.

'Inquisitor Eisenhorn!' declared one of my escorts through a vox-hailer. The hall fell silent, and all turned to watch us approach. High Custodian Carpel sat on a hovering lifter-throne with gilt decorations. A burning chemical light was mounted above the head of the floating chair. He swung in through the parting crowd towards me.

'High custodian,' I said with a dutiful nod.

They are all dead,' he informed me. 'All twelve thousand, one hundred and forty-two. Processional Two-Twelve is dead. None survived the trauma.'

'Hubris has my sincere sympathies, high custodian.'

The hall exploded in pandemonium, voices screeching and shouting and clamouring.

"Your sympathies? Your damned sympathies?' Carpel screamed above the roar. A great part of our ruling elite die in one night, and we have your sympathies to console us?'

That is all I can offer, high custodian.' I could feel Aemos shivering at my side, making aimless notes on his wrist slate about custom and clothing and language forms… anything to take his mind from the confrontation.

'That's hardly good enough!' spat a young man nearby. He was a local noble, young and firm enough, but his skin had a dreadful, sweaty pallor and custodians supported him as he stumbled forward.

Who are you?' I asked.

Vernal Maypell, heir-lord of the Dallowen Cantons!' If he expected me to fall to my knees in supplication, he was in for a disappointment.

'Because of the gravity of this event, we have roused some of our highborn early from their dormancy/ Carpel said. 'Liege Maypell's brother and two of his wives died in Processional Two-Twelve/

So the pallor was revival sickness. I noticed that fifty or more of the congregation present were similarly wasted and ill.

I turned to Maypell.

'Liege. I repeat, you have my condolences/

Maypell exploded with rage. 'Your arrogance astounds me, off-worlder! You bring this monster to our world, battle with him through our most sacred sanctums, a private war that slaughters our best and you-'

'Wait!' I used my will. I didn't care. Maypell stopped as if stunned and the vast hall rang silent. 'I came here to save you and deny Eyclone's plans. But for the efforts of myself and my companions, he might have destroyed more than one of your hibernation tombs. I broke none of your laws. I was careful to preserve your codes in pursuit of my work. What do you mean, I brought this monster here?'

We have made enquiries/ answered an elderly noblewoman nearby. Like Maypell, she was ailing with revival sickness, and sat hunched on a litter carried by slaved servitors.

What enquiries, madam?'

This long feud with the murderer Eyclone. Five years, is it now?'

'Six, lady/

'Six, then. You have hounded him here. Driven him. Brought him, as Liege Maypell said/

'How?'

4Ve registered no off-world ship these past twenty days except yours, Eisenhorn/ Carpel said, reviewing a data-slate. The Regal Akwitane. That ship must have brought him as it brought you, to finish your war here and damn our lives. Did you choose Hubris because it was quiet, out of the way a place where you might finish your feud undisturbed, in the long dark?'

I was angry by now. I concentrated to control my rage. 'Aemos?'

Beside me, he was muttering '… and what silicate dyes do they use in their stained glass manufacture? Is the structure armoured? The supports are early Imperial Gothic in style, but-'

Aemos! The report!'

He started and handed me a data-slate from his leather case.

'Read this, Carpel. Read it thoroughly/ I pushed it at him – then snatched it away as he reached for it. 'Or should I read it aloud to all here assembled? Should I explain how I came here at the last minute when I learned Eyclone was moving to Hubris? That I learned that only by astro-pathic decryption of a cipher message sent by Eyclone two months ago? A cipher that killed my astropath in his efforts to translate it?'

'Inquisitor, I-' Carpel began.

I held up the data-slate report for them all, thumbing the stud that scrolled the words across the screen. And what about this? The evidence that Eyclone has been planning a move against your world for almost a year? And this, gathered this last night – that an unregistered starship moved in and out of your orbit to deliver Eyclone three days ago, unnoticed by your

planetary overwatch and the custodian "Guardians"? Or the itemised stream of astropathic communication that your local enclave noticed but didn't bother to source or translate?'

I tossed the slate into Carpel's lap. Hundreds of eyes stared at me in shocked silence.

'You were wide open. He exploited you. Don't blame me for anything except being too late to stop him. As I said, you have my sincere condolences/

'And next time you choose to confront an Imperial inquisitor/ I added, 'you may want to be more respectful. I'm excusing a lot because I recognise the trauma and loss you have suffered. But my patience isn't limitless… unlike my authority/

I turned to Carpel. 'Now, high custodian, can we talk? In private, as I think I requested/