The noble Marine nodded. And Mandragore is dead, you say?'
'I killed him myself/
The Deathwatch warrior sat back slightly, his brows rising gently in surprise.
'Some heretics escaped your purge?' Schongard asked.
Two key conspirators, brother. The trader, Gorgone Locke, who I believe was instrumental in forging the original contact between the saruthi and Glaw's cabal. And an ecclesiarch named Dazzo, who 1 would see as the spiritual force behind their enterprise. They fled from the fight, rejoined the waiting elements of their fleet, and left this system.'
'Destination?' asked Spatian.
'It is still being plotted, admiral/
'And how many ships? That bastard traitor Estrum ran with fifteen/
'He lost at least two frigates in that star system. A non-standard merchant ship that I believe belongs to Locke is with them/
'Have they taken to their heels and run defeated, or have they some further agenda?' Lord Rorken asked.
'I have further research to make before I can answer that, lord/
Spatian stood and looked towards the Lord Inquisitor. 'Even if they're running, we can't permit them to escape. They must be hounded down and annihilated. Permission to retask the battle-pack and prepare to pursue/
'Permission granted, admiral/
Then Molitor spoke up. 'No one has asked the most important question of our heroic Brother Eisenhorn/ he said, stressing the word 'heroic' in a way that did not flatter. 'What happened to the Necroteuch?'
I turned to face him. 'I did what any of us would have done, Brother Molitor. I burned it/
Uproar followed. Molitor was on his feet, accusing me of nothing short of heresy at the top of his reedy voice. Schongard raised his own serpentine tones in support of the accusations, while Endor and Voke shouted them down. The retinues howled and bickered across the floor. Both the Deathwatch captain and I remained seated and silent.
Lord Rorken rose. 'Enough!' He turned to the glowering Molitor. 'State your objection, Brother Molitor, quickly and simply/
Molitor nodded, and licked his lips, his yellow eyes darting around the room. 'Eisenhorn must suffer our sternest censure for this act of vandalism! The Necroteuch may be a foul and proscribed work, but we are the Inquisition, lord. By what right did he simply destroy it? Such a thing should have been sequestered and brought before our most learned savants for study! To obliterate it out of hand robs us of knowledge, of wisdom, of secrets unimaginable! The contents of the Necroteuch might have given us insight into the archenemy of mankind, incalculable insight! How might it have strengthened us and armed us for the ceaseless fight? Eisenhorn has disgraced the very heart of our sacred Inquisition!'
'Brother Schongard?'
'My lord, I agree. It was a desperate and rash action by Eisenhorn. Carefully handled, the Necroteuch would have provided us with all measure of advantageous knowledge. Its arcane secrets would have been weapons
against the foe. I may applaud his rigorous efforts in thwarting Glaw and his conspirators, but this erasure of occult lore earns only my opprobrium/
'Brother Voke? What s-' Lord Rorken began, but I cut him off.
'Is this a court, my lord? Am I on trial?'
'No, brother, you are not. But the magnitude of your actions must be analysed and considered. Brother Voke?'
Voke rose. 'Eisenhorn was right. The Necroteuch was an abomination. It would have been heresy to permit its continued existence!'
'Brother Endor?'
Titus did not rise. He turned in his seat and looked down the hall at Konrad Molitor. 'Gregor Eisenhorn has my full support. From your moaning, Molitor, I wonder what kind of man I am listening to. A radical, certainly. An inquisitor? I have my doubts/
Molitor leapt up again, raging. 'You knave! You whoreson bastard knave! How dare you?'
Very easily/ replied Endor, leaning back and folding his arms. And you, Schongard, you are no better. Shame on you! What secrets did you both think we could learn, except perhaps how to pollute our minds and boil away our sanity? The Necroteuch has been forbidden since before our foundation. We need not know what's in it to accept that prohibition! All we need is the precious knowledge that it should be destroyed, unread, on sight. Tell me, do you need to actually contract Uhlren's Pox yourself to know that it is fatal?'
