for this place。 Another year or two； they tell me。'
That struck me as infinitely melancholic。 Cadia was a warrior…world； standing guard in the one navigable approach to the warp…tumult
of the infamous Eye of Terror。 The region； known as the Cadian Gate； is the route of choice for invasions of Chaos； and Cadia is seen
by most as the Imperium's first line of defence。 It has bred elite troops since it was first colonised； and billions of its sons and
daughters have died bravely protecting our culture。
Died bravely… then left to slowly vanish in the desolate fields of their home world。
It was dismal； but probably entirely in keeping with the stoic martial mindset of the Cadians。
FISCHIG PUSHED OPEN the heavy axelwood door of the shrine tower and we went inside out of the wind。
The tower was a single chamber； a drum of stone； with weep…hole window slits high up near the summit。 A circle of rough wooden
pews was arranged around a central altarpiece； above which a massive iron candelabra in the form of a double…headed eagle was
suspended on a chain from the beamed roof。
On this dark autumn day； the light from the votive candles fixed amongst the metal feathers of the aquila's unfurled wings was the
only illumination。 There was a spare； thin； golden light； an atmosphere of frugality and numinous grace。 And a musty stink of rotting
axel leaves。
WE SAT TOGETHER on a pew； both of us briefly honouring the altar with the sign of the aquila； our hands splayed together against our
hearts。
'It's strange；' sighed Fischig after a long pause。 'You sent me out； over a year ago； on yet another quest for signs of that daemonspawn
Cherubael。 And just when I find a trace； you run into him again； on the other side of the damn sector。'
'Strange is possibly not the word I'd use。'
'But the coincidence。 Is it coincidence？'
'I don't know。 It seems so much like it。 But… that thing… Cherubael… disarms me so。'
'Naturally； old friend。'
I shook my head。 'Not because of his power。 Not that。'
'Then what？'
'The way he speaks to me。 The way he says he's using me。'
'Daemon guile！'
'Perhaps。 But he knows so much。 He knows… ah； damn it！ He speaks as if our destinies are irrevocably entwined。 Like he matters to
me and vice versa。'
'He does matter to you。'
'I know； I know。 As my goal。 My prey。 My nemesis。 But he talks like it's more than that。 Like he can see the future； or can read it； or
has even been there。 He talks to me like… he knows what I'm going to do。'
Fischig frowned。 'And… what do you think that might be？'
I rose and stalked to the altar。 'I have no idea！ I can't conceive of doing anything that would please or benefit a daemon！ I can't ever
imagine myself that insane！'
'Trust me； Eisenhorn； if I ever thought you were； I'd shoot you myself。'
I glanced back at him。 'Please do。'
I halted and looked up into the flickering flames of the candles； seeing the many shadows and possible shadows of myself they cast；
interlapping and criss…crossing the stone floor。 Like the myriad possibilities of the future。 I tried not to look into the thicker； blacker
shadows。
'The warp…spawned bastard's just playing games with you；' said Fischig。 'That's all it is。 Games to put you off the scent and keep you at
bay。'
'If that's the case； why does he keep saving my life？'
WE WENT BACK out into the moorland wind。 The moaning of the pylon seemed louder to me now。
'Who's with you？' Fischig asked。
'Aemos； Bequin； Nayl； Medea； Husmaan… and a lad you've not met； Inshabel。 We came here directly from Eechan。'
'Long ride？'
'Best part of six months。 We got as far as Mordia on a free trader called the Best of Eagles； and then came the rest of the way as guests
of the Adeptus Mechanicus。 The super…heavy barge Mons Olympus； no less； carrying virgin Titans to the garrisons of the Cadian
Gate。'
'Quite an honour。'
'The inquisitor's rosette carries its benefits。 But I tell you； the tech…priests of Mars are damned surly company for a two month voyage。
I would have gone mad but for Bequin's regicide tournaments。'
'Nayl getting any better？'
'No。 I think by now he owes me… what is it？ Hmm。 His first born and his soul。'
Fischig laughed。
'Oh； it wasn't all so bad。 There was one fellow； a veteran princeps from the Titan Legion。 Old guy； centuries old。 At the point of
retirement； like those men ever retire。 He was supervising the transfer of the new war…machines。 Name of Hekate。 We got to drinking
some nights。 Remind me to tell you some of his war…stories。'
'I will。 Come on…'
He had a land speeder parked down off the lane under the swaying axel…trees。 We brushed fallen ribbon…leaves off me hood and got in。
'Let me show you what I found。 Then we can all meet and greet in a safe place。'
'How safe？'
'The safest。'
WE FLEW OVER the moorlands； into the biting winds； hugging the terrain。 The light was fading。 The grim glory of Cadia was spread
out below us。 This was the merciless； windblown wilderness that raised one of the Imperium's hardiest warrior breeds。 Here were the
scattered islets in the Caducades Sea where they were left naked as pre…pubescents to survive the ritual Month of Making。 Here were
the hill…forts where the Cadian Youth armies wintered and toughened and waged mock wars on their neighbour forts。 Here were the
crags； ice…lakes and axel…forests where they learned the arts of camouflage。
Here were the wide； sundered plains where their live firing exercises were staged。
There is a saying： ''If the ammo ain't live； this ain't no Cadian practice''。 Right from the time they are issued with their own las…guns；
which is about the same time they are given their first primary readers； the young warrior…caste of Cadia are handling live
ammunition。 Most can fire； and kill； and perform most infantry field drills before they reach the age often standard。
Little wonder that the shock troops of Cadia are among the Imperium's best。
But we weren't here to gawp at the rugged crucible of landscape that had formed the Cadians。
We were here to look at the pylons。
'CHERUBAEL'S BEEN HERE；' said Fischig； jockeying the control stick and eyeing the windspeed gauge。 'Far as I know； nine times in the
last forty years。'
'You're sure？'
'It's what you pay me for。 Your daemonhost … and whatever he's working for … is fascinated by Cadia。'
'Why have the Inquisition not had a hint of it？'
'Come on； Gregor。 The galaxy is big。 Aemos once told me that the weight of data generated by the Imperium would fry all the
metriculators and codifiers on Terra in a flash if it was input simultaneously。 It's a matter of making connections。 Sifting the data。 The
Inquisition … and you … have been looking all over for signs of Cherubael。 But some things just don't flag。 I got lucky。'
'How？'
'I was doing my job。 Old friend of mine； Isak Actte； from the old arbites day。 Used to be my boss； in fact。 He rose； got promoted；
wound up on Hydraphur as an arbites general and then got stationed here as watch overseer to the Cadian Interior Guard。 I contacted
him years ago； and got a message I had to check。'
'You're intriguing me。'
He ran us low over a headland and our speeder made a small； sharp shadow on the glittering ice…lake below。
'Actte said the arbites had closed down a heretical cell here on Cadia about ten years ago。 Called themselves the Sons of Bael。 A fairly
worthless lot； by all accounts。 Harmless。 But under interrogation； they'd admitted to following a daemon they called Bael or the Bael。
The local inquisitor general spent some time with them and had them all burned。'
'What's his name？'
'Gorfal。 But he's dead； three years gone。 The current incumbent is a she。 Inquisitor General Neve。 Anyway； the cell has flared up a few
times since then。 Nothing a good team of riot…officers couldn't handle。 Like I said； the Sons of Bael were pretty harmless； really。 They
were only interesting in one thing。'
'Which was？'
'Measuring the dimensions of the pylons。'
THE PYLON HAD been looming in our windscreen for a while now； and Fischig swept us around it； almost kissing the black stone。
The moaning song of the wind as it laced through the geometries of the pylon was now so loud I could hear it over the racing turbines
of the speeder。
The pylon was vast： half a kilometre high and a quarter square。 The upper facing of the smooth black stone was machined with
delicate craft to form holes and other round…edged orifices no bigger than a man's head。 It was through these slim； two hundred and
fifty metre tubes that the wind moaned and howled。
And the tubes weren't straight。 They wove through the pylon like worm tunnels。 Tech…magos had tried running tiny servitor probes
through them to map their loops； but generally the probes didn't come back。
As we banked up higher for another pass； I could see the distant shape of the neighbouring pylon； across the moors； sixty kilometres
away。 Five thousand； eight hundred and ten known pylons dot the surface of Cadia； not counting the two thousand others that remain
as partial ruins or buried relics。
No two are identical in design。 Each one rises to a precise half kilometre height and is sunk a quarter kilometre into the ground。 They
predate mankind's arrival in this system； and their manner of manufacture is unknown。 They