Hadrian did indeed have good amasec. I supposed that Inquisitor's usually tried to get the best of things when they could. It wasn't as though it was a position with excellent opportunities for retirement. It was a somewhat sobering thought that I could now expect to share those bleak prospects. I had known unsanctioned psykers who lived to a ripe old age, but they were the exception rather than the rule.

It was still somewhat awkward of course. Hadrian asked me about my background more generally and I filled him in with mostly the truth. I had been born on Bonavenger the bastard daughter of an Eclessiarch and a dancing girl. Someone, maybe my father but more likely one of his enemies, had arranged for me to be adopted into the minor nobility, stashing me away until I might be a useful pawn or piece of blackmail. Before that had happened my gifts had manifested and my parents had turned me out rather than face the scruitiny that would come with either Inquistion or Minisotrum attention. I had gotten off Bonaventure and traveled to several different worlds in the Orpheus sub, until I had found a woman on Queen Mab who had been willing to teach me some basics of her own craft. Since then I had made my living as I could, largely by acting the part of a noblewoman and using my gifts to convince people to go along with it. Of course making a living in those circles had considerable risks, such as winding up a drugged tool of a dangerous cult. Hadrian said little of himself, perhaps it was inquisitorial reserve, or perhaps there really was little to tell. Most of those who boarded the Black Ships did so young, and he had probably gone straight into Inquisitorial training.

Around our third glass of amasec a servitor with a panthers face and a great feathered headress wrought in jade arrived to invite us to dinner. Well more accurately to invite Hadrian to dinner, but I tagged along and he didn't seem to object.  The dining room on the Caledonia was a sight to behold. A great hall that looked like the knave of a cathedral and hung with the most remarkable tapestries, each simply woven but depicting elaborate scenes of hunting and war. The shipmaster was waiting, dressed in a fur cloak that fairly bristled in the dry ship air.

"You have my welcome," he boomed formally, "as is our way, we must feast before we begin the hunt!"