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this was a bad omen； but Inshabel insisted it was a good one。
I suppose it rather depended which part of the vast spread of the Imperium you came from。
THE OTHERS SPENT the next two days packing up and making ready to leave； but Aemos and I attended the dedication ceremony in the
cimeliarch of the Adeptus Mechanicus annex。
Machine Cult servitors chanted in a modulated binary code and beat upon kettledrums。 Magos Bure was clad in his orange robes with
a white stole over his shoulders。
He blessed the weapons he had made in turn； taking one then the other from the two tech…adepts who stood in attendance。
Barbarisater； the pentagrammatic power sword； lifted to the light that speared down from the eyes of the Machine God's altar。 Then
the runestaff； Bure's masterpiece。
He had fashioned a cap…piece for the rune…etched steel pole out of elec…trum in the form of a sun…flare corona。 In the centre of it was a
human skull； marked with the thirteenth sign of castigation。 The skull was the lodestone； carved by Bure himself into a perfect
facsimile of my own skull； as measured by radiative scans。 He had tried and rejected over twenty different tele…empathic crystals
before finding one he trusted would be up to the task。
'It's beautiful；' I said； taking it from him。 'What crystal did you use in the end？'
'What else？' he said。 'I carved that copy of your skull from the Lith itself！'
HE CAME TO see us off； to the docking barn where the gun…cutter had sat for so long。 Nayl and Fischig were carrying the last things
aboard。 We had broken astropathic silence at last the night before； and informed Imperial Allied； Ortog Promethium； the Adeptus
Mechanicus and the Imperial authorities of the fate that had befallen Cinchare minehead。 We would be long gone before any of them
arrived to begin recovery work。
Bure said farewell to Aemos； who shuffled away to the cutter。
'There's nothing adequate I can say；' I told the magos。
'Nor I to you； Eisenhorn。 What of… the inmate？'
'I'd like you to do what I asked you。 Give him mobility at least。 But nothing more。 He must remain a prisoner； now and always。'
'Very well。 I expect to hear all about your victory； Eisenhorn。 I will be waiting。'
'May the Holy Machine God and the Emperor himself protect your systems； Geard。'
'Thank you；' he said。 Then he added something that quite took me aback； given his total belief and reliance on technology。
'Good luck。'
I walked to the cutter。 He watched me for a moment； then disappeared； closing the inner hatch after him。
That was the last time I ever saw him。
FROM CINCHARE； THE Essene ran back； fast and impatient； into the great territories of the Segmentum Obscurus； a three month voyage
that we broke twice。
At Ymshalus； we stopped to transmit the prepared communiques； all twenty of them。 Inshabel and Fischig left us too at that point；
Inshabel to secure passage to Elvara Cardinal to begin his work there； and Fischig for the long haul back to Cadia。 It would be months；
if not years； before we saw them again。 That was a sorrowful farewell。
At Palobara； that crossroads on the border； busy with trading vessels and obscura caravans guarded by mercenary gunships； we
stopped and transmitted the carta declaration。 There was no going back now。 Here； I parted company os；
all of whom were heading back to the Helican subsector by a variety of means。 Bequin's goal was Messina； and Aemos； with Nayl to
watch over him； was bound for Gudrun。 Another hard parting。
THE ESSENE CONTINUED on for Orbul Infanta。 This was now a lonely； waiting time。 Each night； the remains of my company gathered
in Maxilla's dining room and ate together： myself； Medea； Maxilla and Ungish。 Ungish was no company； and even Medea and Maxilla
had lost their sparkle。 They missed the others； and I think they knew how dark and tough the time ahead would be。
I spent my days reading in the cabin library of the cutter； or playing regicide with Medea。 I practised with Barbarisater in the hold
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