we deliberately plucked the
wire。
In a moment； ragged…robed twist muscle loomed out of the murdered undergrowth； aiming matchlocks and blades at us。
'We're s'here for the auction；' I told them； holding up Phant's tracker。 'S'invited。'
'Name？' croaked a frog…headed thing with a crossbow and a spittle problem。
'Eye…gor； from off。 With his twists。'
Frog…head waved us into the site。 The others assembled before the low； flak…board stage on which Phant Mastik stood； looking round
at us。
'Eye…gor！ Off…world twist； with two others；' Frog…head announced。
Phant nodded his heavy； tusked head and Frog…head and his men backed off； putting up their weapons。
＋＋S'glad you could make it； twist＋＋
'You the Phant。 You the twist with the stuff。 But… I s'hear my own name loud； not these others。'
＋＋Let's all be known； then the sale can begin＋＋
Phant looked down at the other buyers。 One； a stunning female up…spire hiver in a tight bodyglove nodded。 'Frovys Vassik；' she said
through a pan…lingual servitor…skull drone that floated at her shoulder。
She was clearly speaking some high…caste dialect cant which the drone was translating。 I assayed her and her two male bodyguards
quickly： Dilettante wealthers； would…be cultist types； well…armed and armoured with all the wargear spire money could afford。
'Merdok；' said the next； a frail； white…suited； elderly man leaning on a cane and wiping perspiration from his brow with a japanagar
lace kerchief that had cost more than the lowly Phant's entire outfit。 He had four minders； squat females in rubberised warrena suits；
each with an electronic slave…leash collar around her throat。
'Tanselman Fybes；' said the bland…faced man to Merdok's left； stepping forward with a courteous nod。 He was dressed in a bright
orange cooler…suit； with large； articulated exchanger vanes sprouting from his shoulders。 His breath smoked in the personal veil of
cold air the suit was generating around him。
He was also alone； which made him instantly more dangerous than the hive retards who had brought muscle。
'You may address me as Erotik；' said the last； a bitch…faced crone who had inadvisably wedged her ancient body into a close…fitting；
spiked； black bodyglove； the mark of a death…cultist。
Or would be death…cultist； I thought。 She had five masked and harnessed slaves with her； all of them sweating in the misty heat。 I saw
at once they were out of their depth。 They played at death…cult； up in the eyries of the mainhive； maybe cutting their skin and drinking
blood once in a while。 The closest they had come to a real death…cult was watching some blurry； fake snuff…pict to impress their
friends after a banquet。
'S'greet you all。 I'm Eye…gor。 S'off world； and twisted as they come。'
I bowed。 Fybes and Vassik returned the motion。 Merdok mopped his brow and Erotik gestured a very ham…fisted sign of die True
Death which nearly made Nayl laugh out loud。
'Can we get started； my friend Phant？' Merdok asked； dabbing his kerchief around the sweat runs on his face。 'It's midday and bloody
hot out here。'
'And I have murders to do and blood to drink！' Erotik cried。 Her plump and unhealthy minders oohed and aahed and tried to get their
nipple…spikes and bondage straps comfortable。
'Oh dear God…Emperor… they're never going to make it out alive…' whispered Bequin。
'More fool them…' I whispered back。
PHANT'S MEN USED force…poles and electrolashes to goad the sale item from the back of a crop…runner track onto the stage。 It was a
rangy human； straitjacketed and bindfolded； with a heavy psychic…damper muzzle buckled around his head。
＋＋Alpha…plus quality。 One only。 S'bids； now？'＋＋
'Ten bars！' cried Erotik at once。
'Twenty；' said Vassik。
'Twenty…five！' cried Merdok。
Fybes cleared his throat。 His cough blew cold steam out from the private atmosphere generated by his suit。 'I think that's established
the common level here。 I do hate mixing with proles。 One thousand bars。'
Erotik and her minders gasped。
Merdok looked pale。
Vassik glanced round at Fybes with a curt look。
'Ahh。 At least someone sees the true worth of the item on sale。 Good。 We can begin serious bidding。' Vassik cleared her throat and her
cyber…skull dutifully issued white noise。 'Twelve hundred bars；' she said。
'Thirteen hundred！' Erotik cried out； desperately。
'Fifteen；' said Merdok。 'My best offer。 I had no idea this meet would be so hungry… or so rich。'
'Two thousand；' said Vassik's hovering skull。
'Three；' said Fybes。
Merdok was already shaking his head。 Erotik was walking away towards the edge of the site； complaining loudly to her pudgy sextoys；
who bustled around her。
'Three five；' said Vassik。
'Four；' said Fybes。
'Anything？' I whispered to Bequin。
'Not even the slightest latent push。 But those baffles could be doing their job。'
'So it could be Esarhaddon？'
'Yes。 I doubt it。 But it could。'
'Nayl？'
Harlon Nayl looked round at me。
'Nothing。 The Phant's minders are getting edgy because the old witch and her sad hump…muffins are trying to leave before the auction's
finished。 But nothing else…'
'Five five；' Vassik's servitor…skull rasped。
'Six；' said Fybes。
Merdok had withdrawn to one side of the site with his minders； and was taking a sustaining puff of obscura from a portable water…pipe
one of the war…rena slave ferns was holding for him。 Erotik and her chubby concubines were arguing with Horn…head and another
couple of twists on the other side of the burned acre。
'Eight five！' Vassik was announcing。
'Nine！' returned Fybes。
'Fifty！' I said quietly； tossing a huge pile of ingots down onto the stained soil。
There was a pause。 A long； damned pause。
＋＋Fifty bid＋＋
Phant looked down at us all。
Merdok and Erotik and all their people were simply dumbstruck。 Vassik turned away； screaming； and her minders had to hold her
down as she went into fits of rage。
Fybes just looked at me； his breath coming slow and short in clouds。
'Fifty？' he said。
'S'fifty； count 'em。 You got better？'
'What if I have； Eye…gor？ And please… stop it with the 〃s'stupid s'twist〃 talk。 It's getting on my nerves。'
Fybes walked towards me。 He reached up and pulled his face off。 The flesh disintegrated like gossamer as he pulled it away； revealing
his blank； piercing eyes。
'Oh； Gregor。 You do so like to make an entrance； don't you？' said Cherubael。
ELEVEN
FACE TO FACE。
NO WITNESSES。
DEATH ALONG THE LINE。
HIS WAS THE last face I had expected to see here； though it had been in my mind and my nightmares for nearly a hundred years。
'It's been a while； hasn't it； Gregor？' the daemonhost said softly； almost cordially。 'I've thought of you often； fondly。 You bested me on
56…Izar。 I… held a grudge for a while； I must admit。 But when I learned you had survived after all； I eant
there would be a chance for us to meet again。'
The orange cooler…suit began to burn and collapse off him in molten hanks until he was naked。 He rose gently； arms by his side； like a
dancer； and hovered on the wind a few metres above the churned soil。 He was still tall； and powerfully made； but the aura that shone
from him was more sickly green than the gold I remembered。
Unhealthy bulging veins corded his body； and the nub…horns on his brow had grown into short； twisted hooks。
'And so we meet again。 Aren't you going to say anything？'
I could feel Bequin shaking in terror beside me。
'Stay calm； stay still；' I told her。
The daemonhost glanced at her and his smile widened。 'The untouchable！ How wonderful！ An almost exact repeat of our first
encounter。 How are you； my dear？'
'What do you want？' I asked。
'Want？'
'You always want something。 On 56…Izar； it was the Necroteuch。 Oh； I forgot。 You never want anything； do you？ You're just a slave；
doing another's bidding。'
Cherubael frowned slightly。 'Don't be uncivil； Gregor。 You should treasure the fact that I have taken a personal interest in you。 Most
things that cross me get destroyed very quickly。 I could have hunted you out years ago。 But I knew… there was a bond。'
'More of your riddles。 More nothings。 Tell me something real。 Tell me about Vogel Passionata。'
He laughed； an ugly sound。 'Oh； you heard about； that did you？'
'Reports of the incident have made me suspect in the eyes of many。'
'I know。 Bless you； that wasn't my intention。 It was just a tiny error on my part。 I'm sorry if it's inconvenienced you。'
'I have no wish to be seen as a man who would form a compact with daemons。'
'I'm sure you haven't。 But that is what's happening； whether you like it or not。 Destiny； Gregor。 Our destinies are entwined； in ways
you cannot even begin to see。 Why else would you dream about me？'
'Because it has become a central goal of my life to hunt you down and banish you。'
'Oh； this is a lot more than simple professional obsession。 Think； why do you really dream of me？ Why do you search for me so
diligently； even hiding the extent of that search from your masters？'
'I…' My mind was racing。 This thing knew so much。
'And why did I spare you？ If it had been you on Vogel Passionata； I would have let you live。 I let you live on Thracian。'
'What？'
'You stopped to pay homage at Spatian's tomb； and the Gate shielded you from the disaster。 Why did you stop？ You don't know。 You
can't explain it； can you？ It was me。 Watching over you。 Planting the suggestion in your mind。 Making you pause for no reason。 We've
been working together all along。'
'No！'
'You know it； Gregor。 You just don't know you know it。'
CHERUBAEL FLOATED AWAY a short distance； and looked around。 The auction site was frozen； all eyes on him。 No one dared move；
not even the most weak…willed twist guard。 Even those present who didn't know what he was recognised the extraordinary evil and
power he represented。
'What are you waiting for？' a voice yelled from nearby。 Several armed men stepped out of their cover in the chew…after tangles and
approached。 It was Lyko； with six gristly examples of hired muscle。
'Look who I found； Lyko。 I sprang this trap； just like you suggested； to discover if anyone was on your tail； and look who it turned out
to be。'
'Eisenhorn…' Lyko murmured； fear crossing his face for a second。 He looked over at Cherubael。
'I said； what are you waiting for？ Kill them and we can be gone。'
It was suddenly clear to me Lyko wasn't the daemonhost's master。 Like Konrad Molitor all those years before； Lyko was another
pawn； a corrupted agent of someone… something… else。
'Must I？' asked the hovering figure。
'Do it！ No witnesses！'
'Please！' cried the elderly Merdok。 'We only meant t—'
Lyko whipped around and incinerated the old man with his plasma gun。
That broke the impasse。 Phant's people and the other buyers broke in panic； drawing weapons； shouting。 Indiscriminate shooting
began。 Lyko's gunmen； all ex…military types with autocannons； hosed the staging area and cut down the fleeing twists。 I saw Phant
Mastik hit by a burst of fire and collapse in rough sections backwards off the platform。
His horn…headed minder ran at Cherubael； firing a grubby old laspistol。
Cherubael hadn't moved。 He was simply watching the murder around him。 The las…shots sizzled off his skin； and he glanced down at
the twist； as if his reverie had been broken。
The daemonhost didn't even move a hand； a finger。 There was just a slight nod in the direction of th