‘He’s perfect. He’s strong. Mentally, physically. The psykana aspect is a huge advantage. He’s already attuned.’

‘Yeah, but his mindset,’ said Davinch. ‘He wouldn’t cooperate. He wouldn’t be willing.’

‘You think that animal is willing?’ asked Gobleka, pointing at the man writhing and gasping in the cage.

‘He was to begin with,’ said Blayg.

‘The viral shots will destroy the old bastard’s resistance,’ said Gobleka. ‘They’ll negate his will, his self, and rewire his brain and his soul. We’ll break him and reshape him. I don’t think it’ll be hard, either. Eisenhorn’s been on the edge for too long. Decades. He’s been declared a damn heretic, for Terra’s sake! It won’t be a stretch for him. He’s seen the warp. He knows its allure. We’ll just tip him over the threshold so he sees the real truth. He’ll realise where he should have been from the very start. He’ll embrace it like a long-lost love.’

Gobleka grinned broadly at the two men beside him.

‘And Chase and the King,’ he said, ‘they will relish the sheer poetry of their greatest adversary becoming their most valuable asset.’

‘Goran?’ a weak voice called from inside the cage. ‘Goran? Are you there?’

Gobleka looked at his colleagues.

‘Get moving, both of you,’ he said. ‘Find Streekal. Kill anyone else you find. Anyone, caged or not. If you encounter Eisenhorn, try and drive him this way.’

‘If he fights?’ asked Davinch.

‘Then kill him if you have to. But only if you have to. Intact, or alive enough to work with, that’s preferable. Get on with it.’

Davinch and Blayg looked at each other then turned and left the gantry. Gobleka walked back to the cage.

‘Sark? Magos?’

Inside the cage, Draven Sark slowly stood up. He looked around, blinking at the light, his naked, emaciated body suddenly upright and straight-backed.

‘Have I been asleep?’ he asked. His voice was thin and dry, but it had lost its deranged flutter.

‘Yes, for a while,’ said Gobleka.

‘Can I come out, Goran? Can I come out of the cage now, please?’

‘Not yet, magos,’ said Gobleka.

‘Have I been asleep?’

‘Yes,’ said Gobleka.

‘The dreams are bad,’ said Sark. ‘I don’t like them.’

‘I know, magos, but they will be over soon.’

‘You promised that last time, Goran,’ Sark said, looking reproachfully at Gobleka. ‘You promised I could come out.’

‘The work is important, you know that,’ said Gobleka. ‘But I mean it this time.’