‘If it eases your mind at all,’ said Eisenhorn, ‘I doubt the phantom of Esic Fargul knew he was a ghost either.’

‘With respect, it doesn’t really,’ said Drusher. He knocked back the drink in one. Jaff, waiting patiently nearby, stepped in and refilled the glass.

‘What did you speak of, magos?’ asked Eisenhorn.

Drusher shrugged feebly.

‘We talked as two men of similar interests might if they met by chance,’ he replied. ‘Of nature. Of the country and its various species. He had a leaning to natural history. He… he asked if I was a visitor, if I was staying nearby. He told me he was a local man, with a timber business and–’

‘When he asked you that,’ Eisenhorn interrupted, ‘what did you say?’

‘I told him yes,’ said Drusher. ‘That I was staying in the area. I didn’t say where. So he asked me if I was a guest of his neighbour.’

‘His neighbour?’

‘A friend. A local man of some influence who entertained famously.’

‘His name?’

‘His name?’ Drusher echoed. He frowned. ‘I can’t recall. Straker? No, Draker? Something like that. Draven something. Draven Sirk? Stark?’

‘Sark?’ said Eisenhorn. ‘Was that the name?’

‘I think it was. I can’t be sure, but… Sark. Draven Sark. I feel that’s what he said.’

‘So did Thea,’ said Eisenhorn quietly.

Voriet rose to his feet.

‘My lord,’ he said. ‘You said you got nothing today.’

‘I didn’t think I had, interrogator,’ said Eisenhorn. ‘Just sounds. Noises. The wailing psionic roar of the warp. But one sound repeated, and now the magos says the name, I know that’s what it was. A name. Sark. Thea Inshabel was screaming it.’

‘I will begin a search for the name,’ said Jaff. She looked at Drusher. ‘Do you know the spelling?’

‘Of course I don’t,’ said Drusher.

Eisenhorn slowly rose to his feet, almost clawing at the edge of the table for support.

‘Throne,’ he murmured. ‘All along, Inshabel was trying to tell me something. It was the last remaining fragment of her, the only thing she had strength of will to hold on to. One word. One name. And I didn’t realise…’

Medea Betancore had come to his side to steady him.

‘You should rest, Gregor,’ she said.

‘I should work.’

‘Leave it to us, for now,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Let us do the research. Rest and regain your strength. You’re no good to us otherwise.’

‘I know where he lived,’ said Drusher. Everyone looked at him.

‘This Draven Sark,’ said Drusher. ‘The ghost told me. He said Sark was a neighbour. He lived in another old fortress close by. Down towards the pass, he said, and older than this place. Pre-Udarin he called it. Its name is Keshtre.’

Nine

NINE

That Which Is Not There

‘Come with me,’ said Voriet.