te and
quiet。
Jarat； my housekeeper； was waiting for us in the entrance hall。 She was dressed； as ever； in a pale grey gown…robe and a black lace cap
draped with a white veil。 As the great iron hatch…doors cycled open； and I breathed the cool； purified air of the house； she clapped her
plump hands and sent servitors scurrying forward to take our coats and assist with the baggage train。
I stood for a moment on the nashemeek rug and looked around at the austere stone walls and the high arched roof。 There were no
paintings； no busts or statuary； no crossed weapons or embroidered tapestries； only an Inquisitorial crest on the far wall over the stairs。
I am not one for decoration or opulence。 I require simple comfort and functionality。
The others bustled around me。 Bequin and Aemos went through to the library。 Ravenor and von Baigg issued careful instructions to
the servitors concerning some baggage items。 Medea disappeared to her private room。 The others in my retinue melted away into the
house。
Jarat greeted them all； and then came to me。
'Welcome； sir；' she said。 'You have long been from us。'
'Sixteen months； Jarat。'
'The house is aired and ready。 We made preparations as soon as you signalled your intentions。 We were saddened to hear of the
losses。'
'Anything to report？'
'Security was of course double…checked prior to your arrival。 There are a number of messages。'
'I'll review them shortly。'
'You are hungry； no doubt？'
She was right； though I hadn't realised it。
'The kitchen is preparing dinner。 I took the liberty of selecting a menu that I believe you will approve of。'
'As ever； I have faith in your choices； Jarat。 I'd like to dine on the sea terrace； with any who would join me。'
'I'll see to it； sir。 Welcome home。'
I BATHED； PUT on a robe of grey wool； and sat for a while alone in my private chambers； sipping a glass of amasec and looking
through the messages and communiques by the soft light of the lamp。
There were many； mostly recent postings from old acquaintances … officials； fellow inquisitors； soldiers … alerting me to their arrival on
the planet and conveying respects。 Few needed more than a form reply from my secretary。 To some； I penned courteous； personal
responses； expressing the hope of meeting them at some or other of the Novena's many events。
There were three that drew my particular attention。 The first was a private； coded missive from Lord Inquisitor Phlebas Alessandro
Rorken。 Rorken was the head of Ordo Xenos in the Helican subsector； my immediate superior and part of the triumvurate of senior
inquisitors who answered directly to Grandmaster Orsini。 Rorken wanted to see me as soon as I was back on Thracian。 I responded
immediately that I would come to him at the Palace of the Inquisition the follow morning。
The second was from my old friend and colleague； Titus Endor。 It had been a long time since I had set eyes on him。 His message；
uncoded； read： 'Gregor。 My greetings to you。 Are you home？'
The brevity was disarming。 I sent an affirmative response that was similarly brief。 Endor clearly did not want to converse in writing。 I
awaited his reponse。
The third was also uncoded； or at least lacked electronic encryption。 It said； in Glossia： 'Scalpel cuts quickly； eager tongues revealed。
At Cadia； by terce。 Hound wishes Thorn。 Thorn should be sharp。'
THE SEA TERRACE was probably the main reason I had leased the Ocean House in the first place。 It was a long； ceramite…vaulted hall
with one entire wall made of armoured glass looking into the ocean。 The industrialisation of Thracian Primaris had killed off a great
part of the world's sea…life； but at these depths； hardy survivors such as luminous deep anglers and schools of incandescent jellies
could still be glimpsed in the emerald nocturnal glow。 The candlelit room was washed by a rippling green half…light。
Jarat's servitors had set the long table for nine and those nine were already taking their seats and chatting over preprandial drinks as I
arrived。 Like most of them； I had dressed informally； putting on a simple black suit。 The kitchen provided steamed fubi dumplings and
grilled ketelfish； followed by seared haunches of rare； gamey orkunu； and then pear and berry tarts with a cinnamon jus。 A sturdy
Gudranite claret and sweet dessert wine from the vineyards of Messina complemented the food perfectly。 I had forgotten the excellent
qualities of the house Jarat ran for me； so far away from the hardship of missions in the field。
Around the table with me were Aemos； Bequin； Ravenor； von Baigg； my rubricator and scribe Aldemar Psullus； Jubal Kircher； the
head of household security； a trusted field agent called Harlon Nayl； and Thula Surskova； who was Bequin's chief aide with the
Distaff。 Medea Betancore had chosen not to join us； but I knew the intensity of the piloting chores down through Thracian airspace
had undoubtedly worn her out。
I was pleased to see that Ravenor was present。 His injuries were healing； the physical ones at least； and though he was quiet and a little
withdrawn； I felt he was beginning to come through the shock of Arianrhod's death。
Surskova； a short； ample woman in her forties； was quietly briefing Bequin on the progress of the newer Distaff initiates。 Aemos
chuntered on to Psullus and Nayl about the events on Lethe Eleven and they listened intently。 Psullus； enfeebled and prematurely aged
by a wasting disease； never left the Ocean House and devoted his life to the maintenance and preservation of my extensive private
libraries。 If Aemos hadn't related the story of our last mission to him； I would have made sure I did。 Such tales were his only
connection to the active process of our business and he loved to hear them。 Nayl； an ex…bounty hunter from Loki； had been injured on
a mission the year before and had not been able to join us for the Lethe endeavour。 He too lapped up Aemos's account； asking
occasional questions。 I could tell he was itching to get back to work。
Von Baigg and Kircher chatted idly about the preparations for the Novena that were now gripping the hives of Thracian； and the
security consequences they brought。 Kircher was an able man； ex…arbites； and dependable if a little unimaginative。 As dessert was
served； the discussion broadened across the table。
'They say the Bestowment will be the making of the Warmaster；' Nayl said； his loaded spoon poised in front of his mouth。
'He's made already； I'd say；' I retorted。
'Nayl's right； Gregor。 I heard that too；' said Ravenor。 'Feudal Protector。 That's as good as Imperial Lord Commander Helican admitting
the 。'
'It's a sinecure。'
'Not at all。 It makes Honorius the favourite to become warmaster…in…chief in the Acrotara theatre now that Warmaster Hiju is dead； and
Hiju was being groomed for a place on the Senatorum Imperialis； perhaps even to sit amongst the High Lords of Terra。'
'Honorius may be 〃Magnus〃； but he's not High Lord material；' I ventured。
'After this he might be；' said Nayl。 'Lord Commander Helican must think he has potential； or he wouldn't be giving him such an
almighty hand up。'
Politics left me cold； and I seldom empathised with political ambitions。 I only studied the subject because my duties often demanded a
detailed working knowledge。 Imperial Lord Commander Helican； which is to say Jeromya Faurlitz IV of the noble Imperial family
Faurlitz； was the supreme secular authority in the Helican subsector； for which reason he styled himself with the subsector's name in
his appellation。 On paper； even the cardinals of the Ministorium； the Grandmaster of the Inquisition； the senior luminaries of the
Administratum and the Lords Militant had to answer to him； though as with all things in Imperial society； it was never as easy as that。
Church； state and military； woven together as one； yet constantly inimical。 In favouring Warmaster Honorius with the Bestowment；
Lord Helican was throwing his lot in with the military … an overt signal to the other organs of government … and clearly expected the
Warmaster to return the favour when he rose to levels of government beyond those of a single subsector。 It was a dangerous game； and
rare for so senior an official to play openly for such an advantage； though the battle…glory that surrounded Honorius made a perfect
excuse。
And that made it a dangerous time。 Somebody would want to redress that balance。 My money would be on the Ecclesiarchy； though
it's fair to say I'm biased。 However； history has shown the Church to be chronically intolerant of losing power to the military or the
state。 I said as much。
'There are many other elements；' Aemos chuckled； accepting a refill of dessert wine。 'The Faurlitz line is weak and lacks both support
in the Adeptus Terra and a ready ear at the Senatorum Imperialis and the courts of the Golden Throne。 Two powerful families； the De
Vensii and the Fulvatorae； are seeking to make gains against the Faurlitz； and would take this as an open show of defiance。 Then
there's the House of Eirswald； who see their own famous son； Lord Militant Strefon； as the only viable replacement for Hiju。 And the
Augustyn dynasty； let's not forget； who were ousted from power when High Lord of Terra Giann Augustyn died in office forty years
ago。 They've been trying to get back in with feverish determination these last few years； pushing their candidate； Lord Commander
Cosimo； with almost unseemly impudence。 If Nayl's right and the Bestowment makes Honorius a certainty as Hiju's successor； he'd
become a direct competitor with Cosimo for the High Lord's vacant position。'
Down the table； Bequin yawned and caught my eye。
'Cosimo's never going to make it；' Psullus put in candidly。 'His house is far too unpopular with the Adeptus Mechanicus； and without
their consent； however tacit； no one ever makes it to High Lord rank。 Besides； the Ministorum would block it。 Giann Augustyn made
no friends there with his reforms。 They say it was a Callidus of the Officio Assassinorum； under orders from the Ecclesiarcy； that took
old Giann off； not a stroke at all。'
'Careful what you say； old friend； or they'll be sending one after you；' Ravenor said。 Psullus held up his bony hands in a dismissive
gesture as laughter rippled around the table。
'It is； still； most perturbatory；