occasion, he had triumphed, thanks mainly to the strict Thorian mindset of the Ministorum elders of Bradell's World.
Then, just eight years ago, our paths had crossed again on Kuuma.
Tantalid's fanatical hatred – indeed, I would venture, fear – of the psyker was by then insurmountable. I made no secret of the fact that I employed psychic methods in the pursuit of my work. There were psychic adepts in my staff, and I myself had worked to develop my own psychic abilities over the years. Such is my right, as an authorised bearer of the Inquisition's seal.
In my eyes, he was a blinkered zealot with psychotic streak. In his, I was the spawn of witches and a heretic.
No courtroom argument for us on Kuuma. A little war instead. It lasted an afternoon, and raged through the tiered streets of the oasis town at Unat Akim.
Twenty-eight latent psykers, none older than fourteen, had been rooted out of the population of Kuuma's sprawling capital city during a purge, and sequestered prior to their collection by the Black Ships. They were recruits, a precious resource, untainted and ready to be shaped by the Adeptus Astropathicus into worthy servants of the God-Emperor. Some of them, perhaps, would have the ultimate honour of joining the choir of the Astro-nomican. They were frightened and confused, but this was their salvation.
Better to be found early and turned to good service than to remain undetected and become tainted, corrupt and a threat to our entire society.
But before the Black Ships could arrive to take them, they were spirited away by renegade slavers working in collusion with corrupt officials in the local Administratum. Vast sums could be made on the black market for unregistered, virgin psychic slaves.
I followed the slavers' trail across the seif dunes to Unat Akim with the intention of liberating the youngsters. Tantalid made his way there to exterminate them all as witches.
By the end of the fight, I had driven the witchfinder and his cohorts, mosdy foot soldiers of the Frateris Militia, out of the oasis town. Two of fhe young psykers had been killed in the crossfire, but the others were safely transferred into the hands of the Astropathicus.
Tantalid, fleeing Kuuma to lick his wounds, had tried to have me declared heretic, but the charges were swiftly overturned. The Ministorum had, at that time, no wish to court conflict with their allies in the Inquisition.
I had expected, known even, that Tantalid would return sometime to plague me. It was a personal matter now, one which his fanatical disposition would fix upon and transform into a holy calling.
But the last I had heard, he had been leading an ecclesiarchy mission into the Ophidian sub-sector in support of the century-long Purge Campaign there.
I wondered what had brought him to Lethe Eleven at so inopportune a moment.
* * *
By the time I was back on my feet, two weeks later, the Darknight was over and I knew the answer, in general if not specific terms.
I was hobbling around on a cane in the private mansion I had rented in Lethe Majeure when Aemos brought me the news. The great Ophidian Campaign was over.
'Great success/ he announced. The last action took place at Dolsene four months ago, and the Warmaster has declared the sub-sector cleansed. A famous victory, don't you think?'
Yes. I should hope so. It's taken them long enough.'
'Gregor, Gregor… even with a force as large as the hallowed Battlefleet Scarus, the subjugation of a sub-sector is an immense task! That it took the best part of a century is nothing! The pacification of the Extempus sub-sector took four hundred y-
He paused.
You're toying with me, aren't you?'
I nodded. He was very easy to wind up.
Aemos shook his head and eased his ancient body down into one of the leather chairs.
'Martial law still dominates, I understand, and caretaker governments have been established on the key worlds. But the Warmaster himself is returning with the bulk of the fleet in triumph, setting foot in this sub-sector again for the first time in a hundred years/
