Cawl waited a moment before cautiously sitting. He felt disassociated from himself, and feared permanent damage either from his commandeering of the automata squadron or the punishment meted out by the domina, if not both.

She twisted around ganglionic bundles of dangling cables, sure as a serpent in its burrow amid the tree roots. Big as she was, the room was large enough to hide her bulk from Cawl.

'What will become of me?' he called out.

'Of you?' she replied, her voice emanating from a vox-projector in the wall over the display of twitching gauges. She returned a moment later clasping a bundle to the canisters hanging from her front. 'I will let you live, on sufferance. You will serve me directly from now on as an officer of the Taghmata. You may continue your work. Indeed, I expect it.'

'You do?' he said.

'You said that there are many paths to knowledge, Belisarius Cawl,' she said. 'Why should we neglect any route, as long as it leads to enlightenment? The means do not matter. It is the end result, the comprehension of the Machine-God's purpose. That is the goal,'

'You agree with me?' Cawl said in amazement. His hand dropped from massaging his wrist, his pain quite forgotten.

'You might say that. I shall remain quiet on the matter. From this day forth, anything you discover, you will inform me of immediately. What you know, I will know.'

'Knowledge is the price for my life,' he said glumly.

She threw the bundle at Cawl. He caught it. Inside a plastek wrapper was a tech-priest's robes, embroidered with the domina's symbology and badges of a permanent member of the Mechanicum's military.

'If you had spent a little more time safeguarding your position in the hierarchy, you would know that knowledge is the price for everything. You cannot simply opt out of Martian society, Cawl. You are a part of it, it is a part of you, for good or ill. You have broken the lore. I can protect you, for a price. Or you can perish.'

'Then I will serve you,' he said.

'Good,' she said. 'Good.' She rubbed together half a dozen manipulators. The flasks on her chest banged on the elbows. 'Congratulations on your ascension to the next rank. Your days of itinerancy are over, Adept Belisarius Cawl.'

Belisarius Cawl - Tech-Acolytum.

Nine

Nine

The Ill-wyrd

They said the Ruinstorm was abating.

Abating was a relative term.

The Vlka Fenryka took Hel's ride through the warp. Their ships shook in the eddies of dying cross currents. All of the Rout suffered black dreams when they slept, so much so that many of them quietly took to staying awake.