spaces； slowly mastering the tricks of its weight and balance。 I would never match a Carthae…born master； but I had always been good
enough with a sword。 Barbarisater was an extraordinary piece。 I came to know it and it came to know me。 Within a week； it was
responding to my will； channelling it so hard that the rune marks glowed with manifesting psychic power。 It had a will of its own； and
once it was in my hands； ready； swinging； it was difficult to stop it pulling and slicing where it pleased。 It hungered for blood… or if
not blood； then at least the joy of battle。 On two separate occasions； Medea came into the hold to see if I was bored enough for another
round of regicide； and I had to restrain the steel from lunging at her。
Its sheer length was a problem： I had never used a blade so long。 I worried that I would do my own extremities harm。 But practice
gave me the gift of it： long…armed； flowing moves； sweeping strokes； a tight field of severing。 Within a fortnight； I had mastered the
knack of spinning it over in my hand； my open palm and the pommel circling around each other like the discs of a gyroscope。 I was
proud of that move。 I think Barbarisater taught it to me。
I worked with the rune staff too； to get used to its feel and balance。 Though my aim was appalling； especially over distances further
than three or four metres； I became able to channel my will； through my hands； into its haft and then project it from the crystal skull in
the form of electrical bolts that dented deck plating。
There was； of course； no way I could test it for its primary use。
WE REACHED THE shrine world of Orbul Infanta at the end of the twelfth week。 I had three tasks to perform here； and the first was the
consecration of the sword and the staff。
With Ungish and Medea； I travelled down to the surface in one of the Essene's unremarkable little launches rather than the gun…cutter。
We went to Ezropolis； one of Orbul Infanta's ten thousand shrine cities； in the baking heartland of the western continent。
Orbul Infanta is an Ecclesiarchy governed world； famously blessed with a myriad shrines； each one dedicated to a different Imperial
saint； and each one the heart of a city state。 The Ecclesiarch chose it as a shrine world because it lay on a direct line between Terra and
Avignor。 The most popular and thriving shrine cities lay on the coast of the eastern continent； and billions of the faithful flocked to
them each year。 Ezropolis was far away from such bustle。
Saint Ezra； who had been martyred in 670。M40； was the patron saint of undertaking and setting forth； which I took to be appropriate。
His city was a shimmering growth of steel； glass and stone rising from the sun…cooked plains of the mid…west。 According to the guide
slates； all water was pumped in from the western coast along vast pipelines two thousand kilometres long。
We made planetfall at Ezra Plain； the principal landing facility； and joined the queues of pilgrims climbing the looping stairs into the
citadel。 Most were clad in yellow； the saint's colour； or had tags or swathes of yellow cloth adorning them。 All carried lit candles or oil
lamps； despite the unforgiving light。 Ezra had promised to light a flame in the darkness to mark all those setting forth； and
consequently his hagial colour was flame yellow。
We had done the necessary research。 I wore a suit of black linen with a sash of yellow silk and carried a burning votive candle。 Ungish
was draped in a pale yellow robe the colour of the sun at dawn； and clutched a plaster figurine of the saint。 Medea wore a dark red
bodyglove under a tabard on which bol。 She pushed the small grav…cart on which Barbarisater and the
staff lay； wrapped in yellow velvet。 It was common for pilgrims to cart their worldly goods to the shrine of Ezra； in order that they
might be blessed before any kind of undertaking or setting forth could properly get underway。 We blended easily with the teaming
lines of sweating； anxious devotees。
At the top of the stairs； we entered the blessed cool of the streets； where the shadows of the buildings fell across us。 It was nearly
midday； and Ecclesiarchy choirs were singing from the platforms that topped the high； slender towers。 Bells were chiming； and yellow
sapfinches were being released by the thousand from basket cages in the three city squares。 The thrumming ochre clouds of birds
swirled up above us； around us； singing in bewilderment。 They were brought in each day； a million at a time； from gene…farm aviaries
on the coast； where they were bred in industrial quantities。 They were not native to this part of Orbul Infanta； and would perish within
hours of release into the parched desert。 It was reported that the plains around Ezropolis were ankle…deep with the residue of their
white bones and bright feathers。
But still； they were the symbol of undertaking and setting forth； and so they were set loose by the million to certain death every
midday。 There is a terrible irony to this which I have often thought of bringing to the attention of the Ecclesiarchy。
WE WENT TO the Cathedral of Saint Ezra Outlooking； a significant temple on the western side of the city。 On every eave and wall top
we passed； sapfinches perched and twittered with what seemed to me to be indignation。
The cathedral itself was admittedly splendid； a Low Gothic minster raised in the last thirty years and paid for by subscriptions
generated by the city fathers and priesthood。 Every visitor who entered the city walls was obliged to deposit two high denomination
coins into the take boxes at either side of the head of the approach stairs。 A yellow robed adept of the priesthood was there to see it
was done。 The box on the left was the collection for the maintenance and construction of the city temples。 The one on the right was the
sapfinch fund。
We went inside Saint Ezra Outlooking； into the cool of the marble nave where the faithful were bent in prayer and the hard sunlight
made coloured patterns on everything as it slanted through the huge； stained glass windows。 The cool air was sweetened by the smoke
of sweetwood burners； and livened by the jaunty singing from the cantoria。
I left Medea and Ungish in the arched doorway beside a tomb on which lay the graven image of a Space Marine of the Raven Guard
Chapter； his hands arranged so as to indicate which holy crusade he had perished in。
I found the provost of the cathedral； and explained to him what I wanted。 He looked at me blankly； fidgeting with his yellow robes； but
I soon made him understand by depositing six large coins into his alms chest； and another two into his hand。
He ushered me into a baptism chancel； and I beckoned my colleagues to follow。 Once all of us were inside； he drew shut the curtains
and opened his breviary。 As he began the rite； Medea unwrapped the devices and laid them on the edge of the benitier。 The provost
mumbled on and； keeping his eyes fixed on the open book so he wouldn't lose his place； raised and unscrewed a flask of chrism with
which he anointed both the staff and the sword。
'In blessing and consecrating these items； I worship the Emperor who is my god； and charge those who bring these items forth that
they do so without taint of concupiscence。 'Do you make that pledge？'
I realised he was looking at me。 I raised my head from the kneeling bow I had adopted。 Concupiscence。 A desire for the forbidden。
Did I dare make that vow； knowing what I knew？
'Well？'
'I am without taint； puritus；' I replied。
He nodded and continued with the consecration。
THE FIRST PART of my business was done。 We went out into the courtyard in front of the cathedral。
'Take these back to the launch and stow them safely；' I told Medea； indicating the swaddled weapons on the cart。
'What's concupiscence？' she asked。
'Don't worry about it；' I said。
'Did you just lie； Gregor？'
'Shut up and go on with you。'
Medea wheeled the cart away through the pilgrim crowds。
'She's a sharp girl； heretic；' Ungish whispered。
'Actually； you can shut up too；' I said。
'I damn well won't；' she snapped。 'This is it。'
'What？ 〃It〃？'
'In my dreams； I saw you foreswear in front of an Imperial altar。 I saw it happen； and my death followed。'
I watched the sapfinches spiralling in the air above the yard。
'Deja vu。'
'I know deja vu from a dream；' said Ungish sourly。 'I know deja vu from my backside。'
'The God…Emperor watches over us；' I reassured her。
'Yes； I know he does；' she said。 'I just think he doesn't like what he sees。'
WE WAITED UNTIL evening in the yard； buying hot loaves； wraps of diced salad and treacly black caffeine from street vendors。 Ungish
didn't eat much。 Long shadows fell across the yard in the late afternoon light。 I voxed Medea。 She was safely back aboard the launch；
waiting for us。
I was waiting to complete the second of my tasks。 This was the appointed day； and the appointed hour was fast approaching。 This
would be the first test of the twenty communiques I had sent out。 One had been to Inquisitor Gladus； a man I admired； and had worked
with effectively thirty years before during the P'glao Conspiracy。 Orbul Infanta was within his canon。 I had written to him； laying out
my case and asking for his support。 Asking him to meet me here； at this place； at this hour。
It was； like all the messages； a matter of trust。 I had only written to men or women I felt were beyond reproach； and who； no matter
what they thought of me； might do me the grace of meeting with me to discuss the matter of Quixos。 If they rejected me or my intent；
that was fine。 I didn't expect any of them to turn me in or attempt to capture me。
We waited。 I was impatient； edgy… edgy still with the dark mysteries Pontius Glaw had planted in my head。 I hadn't slept well in four
months。 My temper was short。
I expected Gladus to come； or at least send some kind of message。 He might be detained or delayed； or caught up in his own noble
business。 But I didn't think he'd ignore me。 I searched the evening crowds for some trace of his long…haired； bearded form； his grey
robes； his barb…capped staff。
'HE'S NOT COMING；' said Ungish。
'Oh； give it a rest。'
'Please； inquisitor； I want to go。 My dream…'
'Why don't you trust me； Ungish？ I will protect you；' I said。 I opened my black linen coat so'she could see the laspistol holstered under
my left arm。
'Why？' she fretted。 'Because you're playing with fire。 You've crossed the line。'
I balked。 'Why did you say that？' I asked； hearing Pontius's words loud in my head。
'Because you have； damn you！ Heretic！ Bloody heretic！'
'Stop it！'
She got to her feet from the courtyard bench unsteadily。 Pilgrims were turning to look at the sound of her outburst。
'Heretic！'
'Stop it； Tasaera！ Sit down！ No one's going to hurt you！'
'Says you； heretic！ You've damned us all with your ways！ And I'm the one who's going to pay！ I saw it in my dream… this place； this
hour… your lie at the altar； the circling birds…'
'I didn't lie；' I said； tugging her back down onto the bench。
'He's coming；' she whispered。
'Who？ Gladus？'
She shook her head。 'Not Gladus。 He's never coming。 None of them are coming。 They've all read your pretty； begging letters and
erased them。 You're a heretic and they won't begin to deal with you。'
'I know the people I've w