I pointed down into the casket. 'What's missing?'
'Oh, you noticed that too? This is most perturbatory. I'm still not certain, of course, but it's something angular, non-standard in shape and with its own power source/
'You're sure?'
'There are no power inlets designed to couple to it, only power outlets. And there's something curious about the plugs. Non-standard mating. It's all non-standard/
'Xenos?'
'No… human, just non-standard, custom made/
'Yeah, but what for?' asked Betancore, climbing up the ladder frame to join us. He looked sour, his unruly black curls framing a dark-skinned, slender face that was usually alive with genial mischief.
'I need to make further evaluations, Midas/ said Aemos, hunching back over the casket.
Betancore stared my way. He was as tall as me, but lighter in build. His boots, breeches and tunic were made of soft black leather with red piping, the old uniform of a Glavian pilot-hunter, and over that he wore, as always, a short jacket of cerise silk with iridescent embroidery panels.
His hands were gloved in light bllek-hide, and seemed to wait ominously near the curved grips of the needle pistols holstered on his hips.
'You took a long time getting here/ I began.
They made me take the cutter back to the landing cross at Tomb Point. Said they need the platform here for emergency flights. I had to walk back. Then I saw to Lores/
'She died well, Betancore/
'Maybe. Is that possible?' he added.
I made no reply. I knew how deep his foul moods could be. I knew he had been in love with Lores Vibben, or at least had decided he was in love with her. I knew things would get difficult with Betancore before they got better.
ЧУЬеге is this off-worlder? This Eisenhorn?'
The demanding voice rolled up from the chamber below us. I looked down. A man had entered the cryogenerator chamber escorted by four custodians in heat-gowns, carrying light-poles aloft. He was tall, with pallid skin and greying hair, though his haughty bearing spoke of self-possession and arrogance. He wore a decorative ceremonial heat-gown of bold yellow. I didn't know who he was, but he looked like trouble to me.
Aemos and Betancore were watching him too.
'Any ideas as to who this is?' I asked Aemos.
'Well, you see, the yellow robes, like the light poles carried by the custodians, symbolises the return of the sun and thus heat and light. It denotes a high-ranking official of the Dormant Custodial Committee/
'I got that much myself/ I muttered.
'Oh, well his name is Nissemay Carpel, and he's High Custodian, so you should address him as such. He was born here, on Vital 235, fifty standard years ago, the son of a-'
'Enough! I knew we'd get there eventually/
I walked to the rail and looked down. 'I am Eisenhorn/
He stared up at me, barely contained wrath bulging the veins in his neck.
'Place him under arrest/ he told his men.
THREE
Nissemay Carpel.
A light in endless darkness.
The Pontius.
Ishot one, meaningful glance at betancore to stay his hand, then calmly walked past him, slid down the ladder frame and approached Carpel. The custodians closed in around me, but at a distance.
'High custodian,' I nodded.
He fixed me with a steady but wary gaze and licked spittle off his thin lips. 'You will be detained until-'
'No/ I replied. 'I am an inquisitor of the God-Emperor of Mankind, Ordo Xenos. I will co-operate in any investigation you bring to bear here, fully and completely, but you will not and cannot detain me. Do you understand?'
'An… inquisitor?'
'Do you understand?' I repeated. I wasn't using my will at all, not yet. 1 would if I had to. But I trusted that he would have the sense to listen to me first. He could make things awkward for me, but I could make things intolerable for him.
He seemed to soften a little. As I had judged, part of his rage came from shock at this incident, shock that so many planetary nobles in his care had suffered. He was looking for somewhere to pin the blame. Now he had to temper that with the idea that he was dealing with a member of the most feared institution in the Imperium.
