The next morning, when Powell offered to help her into lightweight
Enforcement body armor, Blackfeather accepted gladly. She'd found out
the previous evening, at the same time she'd found out what the term
'unity' meant to those who were Sealed, that his Enforcement commission
was another of the exceptions surrounding Cortin; he was barely
seventeen, and his pose of being a veteran was exactly that, a pose.
But he was no rookie inside, and that unity had given her considerable
respect for the Protector's youngest Sealed.
"How does that feel, Sara?" he asked when she was suited up. "I can
adjust it some, if it doesn't fit quite right."
Blackfeather moved experimentally, then grinned at him. "It's fine,
Chuck. Now what about Sis?"
"She doesn't need armor; she won't be going in until after the action's
over. Mike doesn't want her going in at all, but she says if he can,
so can she, and he couldn't argue that. At least she's promised
this'll be the last time till after she has the baby."
"And the Colonel? Even if His Majesty has forbidden her, I'm surprised
she'd stay out of her team's--and Family's--first official action."
"She doesn't have any choice," Powell said regretfully. "It's a legal
order and her Enforcement oath is valid; disobeying would be a sin, and
that's something none of the Sealed can do. If we had reason to
believe any of the ones who tortured her would be among the attackers,
she'd be free to go with us, but none of the information we have even
hints at that. So she's stuck here."
"In her place, I'd hate that," Blackfeather said, feeling more sympathy
for the Inquisitor than she'd have thought possible a few days ago.
"At least we can make sure we give her a complete report."
* * * * *
The only thing that helped Cortin's frustration at being kept out of
the convent defense was saying Mass, and that only helped for the brief
time it was going on. By the time it was over, though, she'd come to
one conclusion: His Majesty had ordered her not to get into the action,
but he hadn't said anything about not going to the Palace
communications center to listen to the tactical radio!
But following the defense that way was less informative than she'd
hoped. She wasn't familiar enough with the terrain to visualize the
deployment, which made movement orders impossible to follow. About all
she could be sure of was that the Royals were winning, even though they
were taking heavier casualties than she liked or had expected. She
couldn't help praying that none of her people were among the dead and
wounded, though she felt a little uncomfortable asking for that sort of
special consideration; if the casualties weren't from her team, they
had others who'd care as strongly about them.
At last it sounded like the fighting must be about over; Bradford was
ordering the prisoners taken to a holding area and calling in the
medevac units. As further transmissions showed things were winding up,
she decided she might as well go back to the Lodge and make one final
check of her preparations before prisoners started arriving. She was
thanking the communications techs for their courtesy when Bradford's
voice again came from the radio. "Palace Com, this is Strike Leader.
Request Azrael be contacted and asked to join us at her earliest
convenience."
"Azrael is on scene, Strike Leader," the tech said. "One moment,
please."
Cortin took the microphone he offered. "Azrael here, Strike Leader.
What's the problem?"
"Prisoner evaluation. We have some here who present unexpected
problems, and I would appreciate your expertise."
"Unexpected problems?" That didn't sound too likely, Cortin
thought--Brad and Dave both had more specialty-time than she did,
though she had to admit that her position had probably given her a
wider variety of cases. Still, likely or not, she wasn't about to
argue with anything that would get her out into the field, however
briefly. "I'll be there as soon as I can find transportation. Azrael
out."
To her surprise, fifteen minutes later she was airborne and well on her
way to the convent. His Majesty had both ground and air transportation
available at no notice, of course, and as one of the King's Own she was
allowed to use elements of the Royal Fleet--but she hadn't expected to
be able to use one of the alert craft!
The pilot circled the battlefield, more to avoid throwing dirt and
rocks on the wounded than to let her observe--though it did that as
well--following a ground controller's orders to land on the convent
lawn near the temporary prisoner holding pen. Before, she'd always
been in combat gear, exiting a helicopter; this was easier, in her
service uniform, though she did have a little trouble holding onto the
wide-brimmed hat. When she was clear and the copter had lifted off,
moving back several hundred meters to wait for her, she took another
look at the battlefield from this more familiar perspective. It was
clearer to her this way, a bigger scene of carnage than she'd imagined
it could be, and she found herself appalled at the unnecessary damage
and loss of life. Compassionate Mother of God, what could the Brothers
hope to gain from all this? At least the convent showed no major signs
of damage, nothing worse than a few bullet pocks, and the Blue Sisters
were working with Enforcement medics, as usual, to help the wounded.
She heard the rustle of heavy cloth behind her, and turned to see
Bradford--who looked surprisingly comfortable, for a senior officer, in
battle gear--and a nun she supposed to be Reverend Mother Superior Mary
Gabriel. She returned Bradford's salute, bowed to the nun. "I hope
none of the sisters were hurt."
"No, thank God," Bradford said. "We were able to warn them, then
ambush the terrorists far enough away the Sisters were never in any
real danger. Would Your Excellency care for a copy of my report?"
"Thank you, Colonel, but it won't be necessary; Team Azrael will brief
me. I would appreciate it if you have time to visit Harmony Lodge this
evening, though. Ah--were any of Team Azrael hurt?"
"Not seriously," Mother Gabriel said. "Lieutenant Degas was hit in the
side, Lieutenant Powell in the leg. They are in no danger, and are
able to travel, but I think it would be best if Your Excellency
permitted them to remain here for three or four days."
"Whatever you think best, Mother Superior. May I see them?"
"There would be no point, Excellency; they are still under anesthetic.
I will be glad to tell them you asked for them, however." She smiled,
more warmly than Cortin had learned to expect from healer to
Inquisitor. "I understand we have Your Excellency to thank for
Enforcement's timely intervention and the welfare of our patients."
"And Lieutenant Powell," Cortin said. "He's the one who infiltrated
the Brothers and came back with the original information that let me
know what questions to ask."
Mother Gabriel frowned briefly at that reminder, then her expression
smoothed. "It has become obvious Your Excellency does God's work with
His full approval, whatever I may think personally of the means
employed. We are grateful for your help, and we would appreciate your
blessing."
That was a perfectly understandable attitude from a healer, Cortin
thought. Raising her hand, she drew the Triune's symbol in the air.
"May all three Aspects of God protect and guide you and the holy
Sisters."
"And pray for the Protector's appearance," Odeon said, approaching.
"The prisoners are ready for you, Colonel."
"Thank you, Captain. If you'll excuse us, Mother Superior, I'd like
Colonel Bradford to accompany us." When Mother Gabriel nodded, she and
Bradford followed Odeon toward the holding pen. Her second-in-command
had a bloody bandage around his left bicep, but it didn't seem to
bother him, and Mother Gabriel hadn't mentioned it, so it was probably
no more than a flesh wound--not worth worrying about, so she didn't
comment on it. Instead, she asked, "How did Blackfeather react? Did
she give you any trouble?"
"Not at all. In fact, if she hadn't called a warning, Chuck would be
dead instead of wounded, and she's the one who gave him first aid."
"Oh? Quite a change from her former attitude, isn't it?"
"Considerable," Odeon agreed. "Enough that I told her I'd ask if she
could listen while you interviewed the prisoners. She won't interfere,
I'm sure of it."
"In that case, all right." Cortin stopped while they were still out of
earshot of the prisoners. "Ask her to join us, then go get Tiny; I
think the two of you flanking me ought to provide a certain amount of
incentive for the Brothers to answer my questions."