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　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　are　totally　inert；　by　any　auspex　measure
known　to　our　race；　but　many　believe　their　presence　explains　the　quieting　of　the　violent　warp　torrents　that　makes　the　Cadia　Gate　the
single；　calm；　navigable　route　to　the　Ocularis　Terribus。
'They　were　trying　to　measure　this　thing？'
'Uh　huh；'　Fischig　replied　clearly　over　the　speeder's　drive　as　we　pulled　another　hard　turn。　'This　and　several　others。　They　had　auspex　and
geo…locators　and　magnetic　plumbs。　Finding　the　exact　dimensions…　and　I　do　mean　exact…　was　the　entire　goal　of　the　Sons　of　Bael。'
'They　connect　with　Cherubael…　I　mean；　beyond　the　〃Bael〃　part？'
'The　interview　logs　I've　read　show　they　name　〃Bael〃　fully　as　a　god　called　Cherub　of　Bael；　who　came　amongst　them　and　made
demands　that　they　measure　the　pylons　in　return　for　great　knowledge　and　power。'
'And　the　inquisitor　general…　this　Gorfal？　He　suppressed　this？'
'Not　deliberately。　I　think　he　was　just　sloppy。'
'I　want　to　speak　with　the　current　inquisitor　general…　Neve；　did　you　say　her　name　was？'
'Yeah。　I　thought　you　might。'
WHILE　DAYLIGHT　REMAINED；　we　flew　west　to　Kasr　Derth；　the　largest　castellum　in　the　region　and　the　seat　of　provincial　government　for
the　Caducades。　Fischig　switched　on　the　speeder's　vox…ponder　and　broadcast　the　day's　access　codes　to　the　sentry　turrets　as　we　passed
the　outer　ring…ditch。　Even　so；　Man…ticore　and　Hydra　batteries　traversed　and　tracked　us　as　we　went　over。
The　vox…ponder　pinged　fretfully　as　it　detected　multiple　target…locks。
'Don't　worry；'　said　Fischig；　noticing　my　look。　'We're　safe。　I　think　the　Cadians　enjoy　taking　every　possible　opportunity　to　practise。'
We　ran　down　the　line　of　a　slow　moving　convoy　…　drab；　armoured　twelve…wheeler　transports　escorted　by　lurching　Sentinel　walkers　…
and　followed　the　highway　up　towards　the　ridge　of　the　earthwork。　Beyond　it；　and　two　more　like　it；　the　heavy；　grey　fortifications　and
shatrovies　of　Kasr　Derth　sulked　in　the　twilight。
Watch…lights　on　skeleton　towers　stood　on　the　upper　slope　of　the　earthwork。　More　turret　emplacements　and　pillboxes　studded　the
defence　berm　like　knuckles。　Again；　the　vox…ponder　pinged。

Fischig　dropped　the　speed　and　altitude；　and　swung　us　down　towards　the　eastern　barbican；　a　small　fortress　in　its　own　right；　bristling
with　Earth…shaker　platforms。　A　bas…relief　Imperial　eagle　decorated　the　upper　face　of　the　ashlar…dressed　structure。
We　ran　in　through　the　barbican's　gate；　over　the　hydraulic　bascule　that　crossed　the　inner　moat；　and　into　the　castellum's　deliberately
narrow　and　twisting　streets。
Cadia's　earliest　kasrs　had　been　built　in　the　High　Terra　style；　with　the　wide　streets　laid　out　on　a　grid　system。　In　early　M。32；　a　Chaos
invasion　had　made　wretchedly　short　work　of　three　of　them。　The　broad；　ordered　avenues　had　proved　impossible　to　defend　or　hold。
Since　then；　the　kasrs　had　been　planned　in　elaborate　geometric　patterns；　the　streets　jinking　back　and　forth　like　the　teeth　of　a　key。　From
the　air；　Kasr　Derth　looked　like　an　intricate；　angular　puzzle。　Given　the　Cadians'　mettle　and　their　skills　at　urban…war；　a　kasr　could　be
held；　street　by　street；　metre　by　metre；　for　months　if　not　years。
We　slunk　along　the　busy；　labyrinthine　streets　as　the　caged　lamps　came　on　and　business　began　to　shut　for　the　night。　I　was　about　to
remark　to　Fischig　that　it　looked　for　all　the　world　like　a　military　camp；　until　I　realised　that　even　the　civilian　fashion　was　for
camouflaged　clothing。　It　soon　became　easy　to　pick　out　locals　from　visitors。　The　jag…white　and　grey　of　tundra　dress　or　the　panelled
green　and　beige　of　moor　fatigues　marked　out　newcomers　and　off　duty　soldiery。　The　population　of　Kasr　Derth　wore　grey　and　brown
checkered　urban　camouflage。
We　passed　the　stilted　horreums　of　the　Imperial　Cadian　Granary；　and　the　tight…packed　baileys　of　the　rich　and　successful。　Even　the
townhouses　of　the　wealthy　had　armouring　on　their　mansard　roofs。
To　the　left　lay　the　brightly…lit　aleatorium；　to　which　night　crowds　were　already　flocking　to　gamble　away　their　pay。　To　the　right；　Kasr's
senaculum　with　its　gleaming；　ceramite…plated　shatrovy　pyramid。　Ahead；　lay　the　minster　of　the　Inquisition。　The　vox…ponder　pinge