He ran us low over a headland and our speeder made a small； sharp shadow on the glittering ice…lake below。
'Actte said the arbites had closed down a heretical cell here on Cadia about ten years ago。 Called themselves the Sons of Bael。 A fairly
worthless lot； by all accounts。 Harmless。 But under interrogation； they'd admitted to following a daemon they called Bael or the Bael。
The local inquisitor general spent some time with them and had them all burned。'
'What's his name？'
'Gorfal。 But he's dead； three years gone。 The current incumbent is a she。 Inquisitor General Neve。 Anyway； the cell has flared up a few
times since then。 Nothing a good team of riot…officers couldn't handle。 Like I said； the Sons of Bael were pretty harmless； really。 They
were only interesting in one thing。'
'Which was？'
'Measuring the dimensions of the pylons。'
THE PYLON HAD been looming in our windscreen for a while now； and Fischig swept us around it； almost kissing the black stone。
The moaning song of the wind as it laced through the geometries of the pylon was now so loud I could hear it over the racing turbines
of the speeder。
The pylon was vast： half a kilometre high and a quarter square。 The upper facing of the smooth black stone was machined with
delicate craft to form holes and other round…edged orifices no bigger than a man's head。 It was through these slim； two hundred and
fifty metre tubes that the wind moaned and howled。
And the tubes weren't straight。 They wove through the pylon like worm tunnels。 Tech…magos had tried running tiny servitor probes
through them to map their loops； but generally the probes didn't come back。
As we banked up higher for another pass； I could see the distant shape of the neighbouring pylon； across the moors； sixty kilometres
away。 Five thousand； eight hundred and ten known pylons dot the surface of Cadia； not counting the two thousand others that remain
as partial ruins or buried relics。
No two are identical in design。 Each one rises to a precise half kilometre height and is sunk a quarter kilometre into the ground。 They
predate mankind's arrival in this system； and their manner of manufacture is unknown。 They are totally inert； by any auspex measure
known to our race； but many believe their presence explains the quieting of the violent warp torrents that makes the Cadia Gate the
single； calm； navigable route to the Ocularis Terribus。
'They were trying to measure this thing？'
'Uh huh；' Fischig replied clearly over the speeder's drive as we pulled another hard turn。 'This and several others。 They had auspex and
geo…locators and magnetic plumbs。 Finding the exact dimensions… and I do mean exact… was the entire goal of the Sons of Bael。'
'They connect with Cherubael… I mean； beyond the 〃Bael〃 part？'
'The interview logs I've read show they name 〃Bael〃 fully as a god called Cherub of Bael； who came amongst them and made
demands that they measure the pylons in return for great knowledge and power。'
'And the inquisitor general… this Gorfal？ He suppressed this？'
'Not deliberately。 I think he was just sloppy。'
'I want to speak with the current inquisitor general… Neve； did you say her name was？'
'Yeah。 I thought you might。'
WHILE DAYLIGHT REMAINED； we flew west to Kasr Derth； the largest castellum in the region and the seat of provincial government for
the Caducades。 Fischig switched on the speeder's vox…ponder and broadcast the day's access codes to the sentry turrets as we passed
the outer ring…ditch。 Even so； Man…ticore and Hydra batteries traversed and tracked us as we went over。
The vox…ponder pinged fretfully as it detected multiple target…locks。
'Don't worry；' said Fischig； noticing my look。 'We're safe。 I think the Cadians enjoy taking every possible opportunity to practise。'
We ran down the line of a slow moving convoy … drab； armoured twelve…wheeler transports escorted by lurching Sentinel walkers …
and followed the highway up towards the ridge of the earthwork。 Beyond it； and two more like it； the heavy； grey fortifications and
shatrovies of Kasr Derth sulked in the twilight。
Watch…lights on skeleton towers stood on the upper slope of the earthwork。 More turret emplacements and pillboxes studded the
defence berm like knuckles。 Again； the vox…ponder pinged。
Fischig dropped the speed and altitude； and swung us down towards the eastern barbican； a small fortress in its own right； bristling
with Earth…shaker platforms。 A bas…relief Imperial eagle decorated the upper face of the ashlar…dressed structure。
We ran in through the barbican's gate； over the hydraulic bascule that crossed the inner moat； and into the castellum's deliberately
narrow and twisting streets。
Cadia's earliest kasrs had been built in the High Terra style； with the wide streets laid out on a grid system。 In early M。32； a Chaos
invasion had made wretchedly short work of three of them。 The broad； ordered avenues had proved impossible to defend or hold。
Since then； the kasrs had been planned in elaborate geometric patterns； the streets jinking back and forth like the teeth of a key。 From
the air； Kasr Derth looked like an intricate； angular puzzle。 Given the Cadians' mettle and their skills at urban…war； a kasr could be
held； street by street； metre by metre； for months if not years。
We slunk along the busy； labyrinthine streets as the caged lamps came on and business began to shut for the night。 I was about to
remark to Fischig that it looked for all the world like a military camp； until I realised that even the civilian fashion was for
camouflaged clothing。 It soon became easy to pick out locals from visitors。 The jag…white and grey of tundra dress or the panelled
green and beige of moor fatigues marked out newcomers and off duty soldiery。 The population of Kasr Derth wore grey and brown
checkered urban camouflage。
We passed the stilted horreums of the Imperial Cadian Granary； and the tight…packed baileys of the rich and successful。 Even the
townhouses of the wealthy had armouring on their mansard roofs。
To the left lay the brightly…lit aleatorium； to which night crowds were already flocking to gamble away their pay。 To the right； Kasr's
senaculum with its gleaming； ceramite…plated shatrovy pyramid。 Ahead； lay the minster of the Inquisition。 The vox…ponder pinged
again as the gun…walls along the deep approach followed us。
Fischig settled the speeder down on the spicae testicae paving of the minster's inner yard； where sunken guide…lights stitched out a
winking cross。 Inquisitorial guards in gold…laced burgundy armour approached us as we swung back the speeder's canopy and climbed
out。
I showed the nearest one my rosette。
He clipped his heels together and saluted。
'My lord。'
'I wish to see the inquisitor general。'
'I will inform her staff；' he said obediently； and hurried away across the herringbone paving； holding up his baldric so his power sword
wouldn't trip him。
'You won't like her；' Fischig said as he came round the parked speeder to join me。 'Why？'
'Ah； trust me。 You just won't。'
'IT'S LATE。 I had finished business for the day；' said Inquisitor General Neve； stabbing her holoquill back into the brass power…well on
the desk。
'My apologies； madam。'
'Don't bother。 I'm not about to shut my doors to the famous Inquisitor Eisenhorn。 We're a long way from the Helican sub； but your
fame precedes you。'
'In a good way； I hope。'
The inquisitor general rose from her writing desk and straightened the front of her green flannel robe。 She was a short； sturdy woman
in her late one tens； if my eye was any judge； with salt and pepper hair plied back tightly into a bourse。 She had the typical pale； tight
flesh and violet eyes of a Cadian。
'Whatever；' she snapped。
We stood in her sanctum； an octastyle chamber with a black and white cosmati floor and aethercite walls inscribed with a waterleaf
design。 It was lit with rushlights and the flame glow accented the carved lotus motif。
Inquisitor General Neve clumped around her desk to face us； leaning on an ornate silver crutch。
'You'll want to be reviewing the Bael records； I suppose？'
'How did you guess？' I asked。
She favoured her weight on her sound foot and pointed the rubber…capped toe of the crutch at Fischig。
'Him； I know。 He's been here before。 One of yours； I suppose； inquisitor。'
'One of my best。'
She arched her spare； plucked eyebrows。 'Hah。 Much that says about you。 Come on。 The archivum。'
A DIM SCREW…STAIR led down to the basement archivum。 The turning steps of the spiral were hard for her to manage； but she shooed
me away curtly when I offered to assist her。
'I meant no insult； inquisitor general；' I said。
'Your kind never do；' she snapped。 I felt it wasn't the moment to inquire what kind that might be。
The archivum was a long； panelled chamber lit only by the lamps of the double…faced desk…row that ran down its middle。
'Light buoy！' Neve snarled； and a servitor…skull drifted down from the coffered ceiling； hovering at her shoulder and igniting its
halogen eye…beams。
'Bael； Sons of。 Find；' she told it； and it coursed away； turning and dipping； sweeping the racks of the catalogue with its twin spears of
light。
It stopped； eight sections down； and began to buzz around a shelf groaning with data…slates； file tubes and dusty paper books。
Fischig and I followed Neve as she hobbled over to join it。
'Sons of… Sons of… Sons of Teuth； Sons of Macharius； sons of bitches。 She glanced round at me。 That passes for humour here；
Eisenhorn。'
'I'm sure it does； madam。'
Her fingers went back to the stacks； running along the fraying spines and tagged slate…sleeves； following the skull…buoy's light beams。
'Sons of Barabus… Sons of Balkar… Here！ Here it is。 Sons of Bael。'
She pulled a file case off the shelf； blew the dust off it into my face and handed it to me。 'Put it back where you found it when you've
finished；' she said。 She turned to go。
'Your pardon； wait；' I said。
Two emphatic thumps of her cratch swung her around to face me again。
'What？'
'Your predecessor… um…'
'Gorfal；' whispered Fischig。
'Gorfal。 He burned the members of this cult without examination。 Have you never reviewed the case？'
She smiled at me。 It wasn't encouraging。
'You know； Eisenhorn… I always imagined roving inquisitors like you had ad