part of it。
A COMPLEX TRAIL of almost subliminal clues had put me on his tail。 I'll spare you the bulk of the details； for they would merely
document the painstaking tedium that is often the better part of an inquisitor's work。 Suffice to say； we searched and processed vox
logs； and the broadcast archives of the local and planetary astropathic guilds。 We watched ship transfers； orbital traffic； departure lists；
cargo movements。 I had personnel in the streets； watching key locations； asking off…the…record questions in trader bars； calling in
favours from friends of friends； acquaintances of acquaintances； even one or too old adversaries。 I hired trackers and bloodhounders；
and took every scent trace I could from Lyko's apartment。 I had pheromone codes programmed into servitor skulls that I released into
up…ports and orbital stations。
I had well over a hundred personnel on my staff； many of them trained hunters； researchers or surveillancers； but I swear the sheer
load of data would have burned out our brains。
We would have failed without Aemos。 My old savant simply rose to the challenge； never put off； never fatigued； his mind soaking in
more and more information and making a thousand mental cross checks and comparisons every hour； tasks I couldn't have managed in
a day with a codifier engine and a datascope。
He seemed； damn his old bones； to enjoy it。
The clues came in； one by one。 A shipment of cargo put into long…term storage in a holding house in Hive Eight and paid for by a
debit transfer from one of Lyko's known associates。 A two…second pheromone trace in the departure halls of a commercial port down
on the coast at Far Hive Beta。 A fuzzy image captured from a Munitorium pict…watcher on the streets of Hive Primaris。
A passenger on a manifest listing making an unnecessary number of interconnecting flights between up…ports before moving off
planet； as if trying to lose pursuit。
Then the key ones： a cursory excise exam of freight that registered the presence of psi…baffling equipment in an off…wo rid shipment。
A series of clumsily disguised and presumably hasty bribes to key longshoremen at the Primaris starport。 A rogue trader vessel … the
Princeps Amalgum … staying a day longer at high…anchor than it had logged permission to do； and then a sudden change in its course
plans。
Instead of a long run to the Ursoridae Reef； it was heading spinwards； via Front's World； to the twist farms of Eechan。
THERE WAS A knock at the room door just after dawn； and I sent everyone except Nayl into the adjoining room。 Bequin and Inshabel
had the presence of mind to scoop up all the food pails except two。 I went over to the window； and Nayl sat down in a chair； with his
arm casually over the back so anyone coming in couldn't see the autopistol in his hand。
I focussed my mind for a moment to make sure our twist disguises were live； and then said； 'Enter。'
The door opened and the porcupine girl from the twist bar came in。 She was dressed in a glistening sap…cloak； and she looked at us
curiously as she pushed back her hood。
'You take your time； twists；' she said。
'You got something； sweetgene； or you simply s'got to check the good stuff you passed on last night？' Nayl asked with a lascivious
smile。
She scowled； and a head crest of spines rose in a threat posture。
'I s'got a message。 You know who from。'
'The Phant？'
'I ain't saying； genesmudge。 I just bring it。'
'Then s'bring it。'
She reached into her cloak and produced an old； low…tech tracker set； battered and worn。 Holding it up briefly； she thumbed it on long
enough for us to see the green telltale winking； and then switched it off again and dropped it with a clatter onto the peeling tabletop。
'S'gonna be an auction。 Bidder's market； so bring lotsa yellow； he says。 Lotsa。'
'Where？ When？'
'Today at shift two； in the chew…after。 That s'tell you where。'
'That it？' I asked。
'S'all I have。 I just bring it。' She hesitated at the door。 'You s'might wanna make my worth while。'
I put my hand into my coat pocket and pulled out a single； large denomination Imperial coin。
'You take these？'
Her eyes lit up。 'I take anything。'
I tossed it over to her and she caught it with one hand。
'Thanks；' she said。 She went out through the door and then looked back at us； as if my generous contribution to her immediate
happiness had shifted her opinion of us。
Which； sadly； given this miserable place； it probably had。
'S'don't trust him；' she advised； then closed the door and left。
THE CHEW…AFTER WAS the local name given to the tracts of farmland laid waste after the harvesters had been through。 Wrecklands of
shredded vegetation that began to regrow within days of a harvest； such was the speed and fecundity of Eechan's floral growth。 At any
one time； there were several thousand square kilometres of chew…after in the farmlands round the mainhive。
We headed south； into the most recent areas of thresh…wake； following the signal of the tracker。
NOON。 THAT WAS what she had meant by shift two。 The second shift change of the day。 We gave ourselves two hours to get there。
ON TOP OF all my speculations about Lyko； things still didn't add up。 It had been easy enough for Nayl to identify Phant Mastik as the
local slaver； with a specialisation in mindjobs； but why was Lyko using him？ Why was Lyko selling Esarhaddon at all？
Aemos had suggested it was part of a final trade now that Esarhaddon had completed his part of their pact。 That supposed Lyko was in
control； which I doubted。 And if he was simply cutting the heretic loose now the work was done； why sell him？ Why； indeed； come all
this way to do that？ Inshabel supposed that maybe Lyko was now anxious to get rid of the rogue…psyker because he was afraid of him。
I had my own theory。 Lyko had brought Esarhaddon to Eechan for some other purpose； and arranging a mock sale through the Phant
was simply bait to draw anyone who might have followed him out into the open。
As it turned out； I was right。 I wasn't surprised。 It's what I would have done。
THE CHEW…AFTER was a miasmal waste。 As far as the eye could see； which wasn't far at all given the clinging sap…mists from the night
before； the land was a gouged； punished rain of ripped shoots； shredded plant…fibre； wrenched…up root balls and pressure…flattened soil。
The massive track…marks of the harvesters had left wide ruts the depth of a man's waist； at the bottom of which plant material and soil
was layered into a glassy flatness like they had been set in aspic。
The misty air was wet with sap and everything was crawling with lice motes and storm…bugs。 They swarmed in the air； settled all over
us； and we could feel them in our clothes。
By then； although we maintained our twist disguises； we were all armed and armoured at full strength。 One doesn't walk into a likely
trap with a blackpowder pistol and a sharp stick。 I wore body armour； and carried my power sword and boltpistol。 The others were
similarly heavy with bat…tlegear。 If we were caught now； maintaining the pretence we were twists would be the last of our problems。
TEN KILOMETRES SOUTH； through the swirling； sticky mists； we could hear the chugging； rending sounds of the harvesters as they
moved on their way。 Every few metres there was another bloody smear or furry pulp； the remains of crop rodents caught in the reaping
blades of the factory machines。
'You'd think；' said Inshabel； pausing to wipe the gooey sweat from his face； 'that the wildlife would have got used to the farm…factories
by now。 Learned to get out of the way。'
'Some things never learn；' Husmaan muttered。 'Some things always come back to the source。'
'He means food。 He always means food；' Nayl chuckled to me。 'To Duj； everything comes back to food。'
'According to mill statistics；' said Aemos； 'there are four billion crop…rats in every demitare of field space。 Rivers of them flee before
the harvesters。 We've seen one rat…corpse for every twenty…two metres； which suggests only two…point…two per cent of them were
unlucky enough to be caught in the blades。 That means the vast percentage fled。 They're smarter than you think。'
He paused。 Everyone had stopped and was staring at him。
'What？' he asked。 'What？ I was only saying…'
'That old geezer fantisises about maths and stats more'n I fantisise about the laydies；' Nayl told Bequin as we moved forward again。
'I'm not sure which of you I'm supposed to feel more sorry for；' she said。
HUSMAAN HELD UP the tracker the Porcupine…girl had given us and shook it。 Then he slapped it a couple of times for good measure。
We waded through the plant fibre and came level with him。
'Problem？' I asked。
'Damn thing… too old。'
'Let me see it。'
Husmaan handed it to me。 It was a piece of crap； all right。 Battered by a lifetime of hard knocks； with a nearly flat powercell。 A nice
touch that； I thought； noting Lyko's careful planning。 An unreliable tracker made this seem so much more genuine。 A brand new or
well…powered unit would have been as good as a written invitation beginning ''Dear people chasing me； please come here and get
killed''。
I shook the device myself and got a good return。 Just enough juice to lead us to our deaths。
'That way；' I said。
IT WAS CLOSE to noon。 The sun was up； but the sap…mists