‘They will know you are coming,’ said Spinoza. ‘The orbital authorities might accept that the destruction of a void-hauler was accidental, but they will know someone was on board. If the captain was able to get a signal away, then they might even know your identity.’
‘I never gave the captain a name,’ said Crowl. ‘But you’re right — they’ll know someone was sniffing around, and they’ll be searching for who that was. And they have no compunction over killing an inquisitor — we know that at least.’ He drained the goblet and poured himself another. ‘This is what I propose. Spinoza, go after the False Angel again. Make as much noise about it as you can. Take Hegain, take as many troops as you need. If you can run down this Falx, so much the better. I want it to appear as if all our efforts are bent towards these flesh-gangs. It is a worthy objective in any case, and if it brings you into contact with Quantrain that is good, for his connections will spread the news. I will go to Skhallax. There’s not much to be accomplished there in numbers — we’ll have to go carefully in the tech-priests’ realm.’ He looked at his acolyte. ‘You said you picked up readings in that cargo-chamber?’
Spinoza nodded. ‘They are stored, and I will analyse them.’
‘Supposition?’
‘I do not know.’ She paused. ‘Some kind of radiation? Chem-weapons? They might have been unstable, hence the signs of use.’
‘Talk to Erunion,’ said Crowl. ‘That sounds like something he’d enjoy looking into.’ He drained his goblet and pulled himself to his feet. After the exertions on the void-hauler, the movement was stiffer than normal. ‘I need not tell you we do not have much time. In two days the whole planet will be disabled by this damned Feast-fever, and even moving around will become difficult. But I have faith in you, both of you, for we are engaged in this thing now, and secret-hunting is why we were made.’
He pushed the goblet away. He was drinking too much of that stuff, and it would revert to the old poison all too soon if he overdid it.
‘So, hunters,’ he said. ‘It begins again. May He guide your paths, and lead us all into glory.’
After the conference, Spinoza went back to her personal chambers. It was late morning by then, but felt far later. She needed to collect herself, consider how she was to enact the tasks given to her, study the files from Huk that waited on her desk. The command to run down the flesh-gangs was far from unwelcome — that was the work she had urged Crowl to prioritise from the start — but there were no fresh leads. She could go out into the labyrinth again, hoping to find something, and perhaps some scent would emerge, but the time remaining was ticking down rapidly.
She reached her cell, activated the lock and went inside. Her limbs dragging, she made her way over to the cot — unslept in — and lowered herself down onto the coarse blanket. For a moment, she allowed herself to relax, resting her head on the bolster and closing her eyes.
Images cycled through her mind. She remembered the lithochromes Crowl had taken from the den in the underhives, the bloodstains and the frozen images of torture. Then she saw the inside of the cargo chamber on the void-hauler again, just as bloody, its horror augmented by the stench that was so hard to place. Then she saw the masked face of Falx, glistening from the condensing fat droplets filling the air like rain, crouched to pounce, her sword shining. Then there was Gloch, hauling her to safety, then Rassilo, smiling at her in the warmth and splendour of her private apartments.
This is Terra, child. One gift given, another returned.
The chime went, startling her out of her gentle slide into slumber.
Spinoza cursed, feeling her body tremble back into full wakefulness. She needed to get some rest, some time. ‘Who is it?’ she asked.
‘If you please, lord. Yessika.’
Spinoza swung her legs over the cot’s edge, blinked twice. ‘Come,’ she said.
The girl entered, slipping through the gap warily. She was as pale as before, as sickly as before, her shift hanging over its bony frame. She stood before Spinoza for a moment, uncertain. She carried nothing with her.
‘What is it?’ Spinoza asked.
‘I thought you…’ Then she trailed off. ‘You said that…’
Spinoza waited. ‘Are you well?’ she asked eventually. ‘You are not being maltreated?’
Yessika shook her head. ‘Something to tell you.’ She looked around then, as if suddenly fearful she were being overheard.
‘Go on. We are alone.’
‘He is sick, interrogator,’ said Yessika, very quietly. ‘He is very sick. I spoke to those who serve his chamber, and they showed me what they make for him. Medicines. That’s all he takes now, they told me. It’s getting worse.’
Spinoza regarded her carefully. ‘Why do you tell me this?’
Yessika began to look worried. ‘I thought that.’ she started. ‘I thought you wanted me to. I wish him no harm, though. No harm at all. The ones that serve him close, they wish him no harm either, but they’re worried, because the doses are growing, and they know that it can mean no good. If he goes, then-’
‘He is not going anywhere.’ Spinoza got up, moved closer to Yessika and tried to give her a smile. She reached out and smoothed a stray line of tangled hair from her dirty face. ‘You must know that an inquisitor is a precious asset to the Imperium. Each one is worth more than an entire world. If he is taking medication, then he is healing. That is how it works.’
‘But they say-’
‘I did wish you to share this with me. If you learn of any other things that concern you, then you must always feel free to come to me. You will do this, yes?’
Yessika, who had looked conflicted until then, brightened a little. ‘That’s all I have for now. I can keep an eye on it, though. Vider, she serves in the upper refectory, she knows more about the household business, though I do not like her, but I will try to listen when she speaks to Gerog, because they are close I think, though they try to keep it secret.’
As Spinoza listened, it was like being given a tiny glimpse of the labyrinthine politics of Courvain’s menial levels. No doubt there were rivalries and jealousies in the shadows to rival anything in the grand palaces of the Lords of Terra. Yessika prattled on for a while longer, and Spinoza let her. The girl was obviously lonely. As Spinoza had been taught in the earliest months of her long instruction, that offered up opportunity.
‘You have been valuable, Yessika,’ Spinoza said. ‘I will find some way to give you a reward, when I can. Keep your eyes open. Let me know if you discover anything else. It is our task, yours and mine, to keep the inquisitor safe — you understand this?’
‘I do.’ Yessika’s eyes were wide and guileless. ‘He wasn’t always alone, they say.’
‘They do indeed,’ said Spinoza, guiding her back to the door. ‘Now do not tarry — you will be missed, and I do not wish to see you punished for this.’
Yessika slipped off just as she had arrived — a slip of grey, light as dust, scampering warily back into the shadows of the corridor outside.
Once she had gone, Spinoza closed the door again, sat back on her cot, and thought on the news. It might be worth knowing, it might not. An inquisitor of Crowl’s seniority was likely to have augmetics, physical implants, chemical-balance alterations. All of that required constant attention from an apothecary, just to keep the balance stable. In all probability, that was all that was happening here.
In all probability.
The chance for sleep had gone now, though. She was alert again, thinking through the implications, such as they might be. She pressed the secure command bead at her armour’s collar, ready to do what she had been putting off for too long.