‘Yes,’ said Drusher. Rain beat against the walls.

‘I think we are beginning to find an accommodation, magos,’ said Eisenhorn. ‘You have let your light go out. I’m sorry for that. I have not let mine die yet. There is work still to be done on Gershom. Work I do not wish to leave to others. You can assist me, for it intersects with your area of specialty. And perhaps, in assisting, you may discover that there is still, and always will be, work of your type for you to commit your life to. As, I think, you always intended.’

‘Show me the bodies, sir,’ said Drusher.

‘You have a copy of your taxonomy?’

‘I do,’ said Drusher.

‘I ask that you show it to my savant, Audla Jaff. She will only need it for half an hour.’

He resumed walking. Drusher stood and watched him plod away painfully down the steps. A thought clarified.

‘Hey! Sir!’ Drusher called after him. ‘How did you know I was even thinking about issues of retirement?’

Eisenhorn did not look back or reply.

Drusher hurried down the stairs after him.

‘How did you know that?’ he called. ‘And how did you know I wanted to call you an idiot?’

In the cold main hall of Helter Fortress, the gathered team looked up as they heard raised voices.

Eisenhorn appeared, striding from the stair arch towards the basement doors.

‘Sir–’ Voriet began.

Eisenhorn held up a hand stiffly, not breaking stride.

‘I’m going to the cold store,’ he announced. ‘Harlon, Audla, Marshal Macks, with me, please.’

Drusher appeared, out of breath, red-faced, annoyed. He trotted after the inquisitor.

‘You’ve met him, then?’ asked Macks, grinning.

‘Shut up, Germaine,’ he replied.

Six

SIX

The Cold Store

Nayl drew back the bolts on the door and opened the cold store. It had been a root cellar, Drusher decided, serving the fortress kitchens through the winter when there had still been a garrison to feed.

The walls were whitewashed. There were eighteen steel gurneys arranged in rows, green plastek sheeting bagging the bodies. More gurneys were folded and stacked along the wall as if other visitors were presently expected.

Monitoring equipment was set up between the gurneys, radiating fields of prickly blue light.

‘It’s not cold enough,’ Drusher said immediately. ‘It’s not cold enough, and it’s too damp. This is no place for the preservation of organic remains.’

‘Correct,’ said Eisenhorn. ‘Hence the stasis field generators.’

‘And if generator power fails?’ asked Drusher.

‘Then the fortress is going to start to stink,’ said Nayl.

‘And your evidence will be lost,’ said Drusher.

‘Evaluation, please, magos,’ said Eisenhorn. ‘I understand it will be preliminary.’

‘Preliminary. Very well,’ Drusher said, nodding. He took off his spectacles, wiped the lenses and put them back on, but did not move.

‘These people were not the victims of ursid attacks,’ he said.

There was a pause.

Nayl looked at him.