'Light physical torture and psychic interrogation。 And by the way； you just utilised the Second Action … verbal threat of and/or
description of Actions that may follow。'
'Have you ever been tortured； Eisenhorn？' asked Moyag。
'Yes； by less squeamish men than you。 And I have interrogated too。 Second Action methods really won't work on me。'
'Inquisitor Osma has authorised us to use any methods up to and including Ninth Action；' spat Palfir。
'Again； a threat。 Second Action。 It won't work on me。 I told you that。 I am trying to be co…operative。'
'Who is Hound？' asked Riggre。 Ah； there it was； the follow…up； designed to wrong…foot by coming out of sequence。 For a moment； I
began to admire their interrogation skills。
'I don't know his real name。 He works clandestinely。'
'Is it not Godwyn Fischig？ The man you chose as your second here。 The man who waits outside this chamber？'
There are times when the injuries Gorgone Locke did to my face on Gudrun have their benefits。 My face simply couldn't show the
reaction they were hoping to see。 But inside； I balked。 Their intelligence was good； good enough to have cracked Glossia； if only
partially。 I was sure of the source。 They had already mentioned that weasel von Baigg。 Months before； on Thracian right before the
atrocity； I had begun to suspect von Baigg。 At that time； I merely assumed he was Lord Rorken's plant to watch over me。 Now I
realised he was happy to talk to anyone。 I had recognised von Baigg's weakness and stalled his career。 Clearly he had decided to seek
advancement from other inquisitors by selling me out。
'If you are telling me Fischig is the operative I know as Hound； I am truly surprised；' I replied levelly； choosing my words with
extreme care。
'We will talk to him in time；' said Palfir。
'Not while he is my recognised second。 That would break the code of prejudice。 If you wish to interview him； I must be allowed a new
second。 Of my choosing。'
'We will get to that；' said Riggre。
'Why did you survive the Thracian horror？' asked Moyag。
'I was lucky。'
'Explain lucky？'
'I had stopped to honour the tomb of the admiral。 The Spatian Gate protected me from the air strikes。' After the lies Cherubael had told
me on Eechan； I dreaded this question coming up again under psychic interview。 The lies； or at least my attempts to screen them；
would be picked up。
'The atrocity was simply cover to allow you to liberate and remove from Thracian the heretic psyker Esarhaddon。'
'I would normally address that notion with scorn。 If the entire event had been staged simply to 〃launder〃 the psyker； then it was
inhumanly wasteful。 However； I believe in some regards you are right。 That's what the atrocity was engineered to do。 But not by me。'
Moyag licked his yellowing teeth eagerly。 'You maintain that it was in fact Interrogator Lyko who executed the event？'
'In collaboration with the daemonhost。'
'But Lyko cannot answer those charges； can he？ Because you killed him on Eechan。'
'I executed Lyko on Eechan as a traitor…enemy of the Imperium。'
'I submit to you that you killed him because he was on to you。 You killed him to silence him。'
'Do I really have to be here？ You're doing a fine job of making up your own answers。'
'Where is Esarhaddon？'
'Wherever Cherubael took him。'
'And where is that？' asked Palfir。
I shrugged。 'To his master。 Quixos。'
All three of them laughed。 'Quixos is dead。 He died long ago！' Moyag chuckled。
'Then why did the inquisitor general and I find that he had been manipulating her codes to gain access to Cadian airspace？'
'Because that's how you made it look。 You say Quixos used his power to steal her authority code。 If that's true； then it's a crime any
deviant inquisitor of renown could manage。 You could manage it。 And using a dead man's code means no one is going to object。'
'Quixos isn't dead。' I cleared my throat。 'Quixos is Hereticus and Extremis Diabolus。 He has perverted inquisitors such as Lyko and
Molitor into his service。 He uses daemonhosts。 He triggers holocausts to cover his theft of alpha…plus class psykers。'
The three interrogators fell silent for a moment。
'We are wasting time here；' I said。 'I am not the man you want。'
BUT THE TIME…WASTING continued。 A week； passed； then a second。 Every day； I was taken to the great hall and subjected to anything
from two to six hours of First Action interview。 The questions were repeated so many times； I became sick of hearing them。 None of
the interrogators seemed to listen to my statements。 As far as I knew； no part of my story was being checked out。
They were clearly wary of escalating to physical or psychic means of extraction。 Because I was a psyker； I could at least make things
difficult enough so that they'd never know how much of what they were getting out of me was true。 Osma had evidently decided to
wear me down with endless cycles of verbal cross…examination。
For fifteen minutes each evening； with the ocean light fading； I was allowed to speak with Fischig。 These conversations were
pointless。 The cell areas were undoubtedly laced with vox…thieves and listening devices； and as far as we knew； Glossia was
compromised。
Fischig could tell me little； although I was able to learn that Medea； Aemos and the gun…cutter were not in Osma's hands； and neither
was the Essene。
There had been no further sighting of Prophaniti…Husmaan； and Fischig was certain that the mystery starship that had delivered
Prophaniti to Cadia had not been intercepted that fateful night。
Through Fischig's agency； I sent petitions to Osma； to Rorken and to Neve； protesting my arrest and urging them to take further action
regarding Quixos。 No word came back。
Candlemas was long past。 Three more weeks went by。 I realised that the year had turned。 Outside the thick； bleak walls of the
Carnificina； it was 340。M41。
AT THE END of my third month of detention and interrogation； I was led into the great hall for my daily interview and found Osma
waiting for me instead of the usual interrogators。
'Sit；' he said； gesturing to the chair in the centre of the stark room。
It was dark and cold。 Bitter； late winter storms were pushing in from the east； and though it was day； no light came from the high
windows。 They were muffled with snow。 My breath steamed in the air； and I shivered。 Osma had arranged six lamps around the edges
of the room。
I sat down； pushing my hands into the pockets of my coat against the chill。 I didn't want Osma to see my distress。 He stood； warm and
insulated in his burnished power armour； reviewing a data…slate。
I could see myself； reflected in the polished panels of his backplate。 My clothes were ragged and filthy。 My skin pale。 I had dropped a
good seven kilos； and now sported a thick beard as unruly as my hair。 The only item in my possession was the inquisitorial rosette in
my coat pocket。 It comforted me。
Osma turned to face me。 'In three months； your story has not changed。'
'That should tell you something。'
'It tells me you have great reserves of strength and a careful mind。'
'Or that I'm not lying。'
He put the slate down on one of the lamp tables。
'Let me explain to you what is going to happen。 Lord Rorken has persuaded Grandmaster Orsini to have you extradited to Thracian
Primaris。 There you will stand trial for the charges in the carta extremis before a Magistery Tribunal of the Ordo Malleus and the
Officio of Internal Prosecution。 Rorken isn't happy； but it is all Orsini would allow。 Rorken； I have heard； feels that your innocence …
or guilt … can be ascertained once and for all in a formal trial。'
'The result of that trial may embarrass you and your master； Lord Bezier。'
He laughed。 'In truth； I would welcome such embarrassment if it meant the exoneration of a valuable inquisitor like you； Eisenhorn。
But I don't think it will。 You will burn on Thracian for this； Eisenhorn； as surely as you would have done here。'
'I'll take my chances； Osma。'
He nodded。 'So will I。 The Black Ships will arrive in three days time to conduct you to Thracian Primaris。 That gives me three days to
break you before the matter is taken out of my hands。'
'Be careful； Osma。'
'I'm always careful。 Tomorrow； my staff will begin Ninth Action examination of you。 There will be no respite until the Black Ships
arrive or you tell me what I want to hear。'
'Two days of Ninth Action methods will probably guarantee I won't be alive when the Black Ships come。'
'Probably A shame； and questions will be asked。 But this is a lonely prison and I am in charge。 That is why； today； I'm just talking to
you。 Just you and me。 A last chance。 Tell me the whole truth now； Eisenhorn； man to man。 Make this easy on us both。 Confess your
crimes before the pain begins tomorrow； spare us the trial on Thracian； and I'll do everything in my power to ensure your execution is
quick and painless。'
'I'll gladly tell you the truth。' His eyes brightened。
'It's all there； on that slate you were reading。 Exactly as I have been saying these last three months。'
WHEN THE GUARDS took me back to my frigid cell； down stone hallways where the ocean gales moaned； Fischig was waiting for me。
Our daily fifteen minutes。
He had brought a lamp； and a tray with my night meal： thin； tepid fish…broth and stale hunks of rusk bread with a glass of watered rum。
I sat down on the crude bunk。
'I'm to be extradited for trial；' I told him。
He nodded。 'But I understand tomorrow the painwork begins。 I've filed a protest； but I'm sure it'll be accidentally lost in the trash。'
'I'm sure it will。'
'You should eat；' he said。
'I'm not hungry。'
'Just eat。 You'll need your strength and from the look of you； you've precious little of that。'
I shook my head。
'Gregor；' he said； dropping his voice。 'I have a question to ask you。 You won't like it much； but it's important。'
'Important？'
'To me。 And to your friends。'
'Ask it。'
'Do you remember … God…Emperor； but it seems so long ago！ … last year； when we met up again； at that grave field outside Kasr
Tyrok？'
'Of course。'
'In the shrine tower； you said to me that you couldn't conceive of doing anything that would please or benefit a daemon。 You said； 〃I
can't ever imagine myself that insane。〃'
'I remember it clearly。 You said that if you ever thought I was； you'd shoot me yourself。'
He nodded； with a sour chuckle。 There was a moment of silence； broken only by the crackling of the lamp and the boom of the sea
outside the prison ramparts。
'You want to be sure； don't you； Godwyn？' I asked。
He looked at me； reproachfully。
'I can understand that。 I expect total loyalty from you and all my staff。 You have the right to be assured of the same from me。'
'Then you know my question。'
I fixed him with my eyes。 'You want to ask if I'm lying。 If there's any truth to the charges。 If you have been working for a man who
consorts with daemons。'
'It's a stupid question； I know。 If you are those things； you won't hesitate to lie again now。'
'I'm too tired for anything but the truth； Godwyn。 I swear； by the Golden Throne； I am not what Osma says I am。 I am a true servant of
the Emperor and the Inquisition。 Find me an eagle and I'll swear on that too。 I don't know what else I can do to convince you。'
He got to his feet。 'That's enough for me。 I just wanted to be sure。 Your word has always been enough； and