Cortin frowned again, this time openly. He was afraid, yes--but his
fear seemed to be of the idea she'd think him a Brother or have any
information, which was interesting. And worth pursuing, even though
she was supposedly here to evaluate prisoners. "Not likely that you
have any information, or not likely I'd find it useful?"
"Either, Lady. I'm an honest farmer. Or was, till those bas--uh,
Brothers--killed my wife and kidnapped my little girl. They said
they'd kill her too, unless . . . unless I helped them." His shoulders
slumped. "They've probably killed her anyway--or worse. But I can't
take that chance."
Cortin took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Dave was right, she
thought; this was one of the worst of the Brothers' atrocities, and it
made her coldly furious. Forcing outsiders to help in horror-raids by
threats to their families went beyond her conception--until now--of
even the Brothers' depravity. "I believe you," she said, and showed
him the back of one hand. "Any Inquisitor who wears this mark knows
when someone's telling the truth, and no one who hasn't committed a
crime will be punished. You'll be taken to the Detention Center,
though, for detailed questioning. Enforcement will use any information
you can give us to try to rescue your daughter, so be as thorough as
you can; sometimes a tiny detail you think useless can be the key.
After that, I'm afraid, you'll be kept in protective custody--" She
broke off at his expression. "Protective custody, I said! Think,
man--if we turn you loose, the Brothers can still use that threat
against you. There's no guarantee what'll happen with you and whoever
else is in the same situation in custody, but there's no doubt what'll
happen if you're not. And I'll see it's as comfortable for you as it
can be. Do you know how many others are in your situation?"
The man shrugged. "Maybe half of this group; I couldn't say how many
anywhere else. You will save Catherine?"
"We'll do our best," Cortin promised. "In fact-- Colonel Bradford?"
"Yes, Excellency?"
"Can you arrange for a special Enforcement task force devoted to
finding these . . . hostages?"
"As soon as we return to base, Excellency. And may I suggest you offer
these men employment in Archangel under Strike Force protection until
their families can be rescued, or confirmed dead?"
"Mmm. It would give them something to do and provide income . . ." She
turned to the man. "Would you be interested in that sort of offer?"
"Yes, if it was something I could do--better than sitting around
sweating it out."
"Reconstructing and fixing up some prewar buildings," Bradford told
him. "Headquarters for His Majesty's Strike Force, and Her Grace's
Archducal Palace and Enforcement headquarters."
The man looked from Bradford to Cortin. "I can do that, Lady. Thank
you. And I believe you will find Catherine, if she's still alive."
"As I said, we'll do our best." Her job-related questioning over with
this man, she thought it reasonable to ask about his odd phrasing.
"Now--why do you keep calling me Lady?"
"I can't think of any other good term, Lady."
"Interesting," Cortin said slowly. "I have plenty of titles, yet you
pick one of the few I can't claim. Who or what do you think I am?"
"Not think, Lady Protector--I know." The man knelt, bowing his head.
"I've just confessed to the Priest-Captain--may I have Your blessing?"
Cortin looked at Odeon, feeling a twinge of dismay. This man honestly
believed she was the Protector, not just His Herald--and that was a
frightening idea, one she wanted to deny. Odeon was nodding slightly,
though, and Jeshua had told her not to deny it if she were called
either Herald or Protector--so she blessed the man, then raised him to
his feet, disturbed by the expression of open worship on his face. If
she couldn't deny being the Protector, she supposed she'd have to learn
to live with that attitude--but she didn't think it would be easy.
"One last favor, Lady, if You don't mind?" the man said hesitantly.
"What is it?"
"I'd . . . like to pay You the proper respects, if I knew how. The
right ceremonies, any special devotions . . . You know."
That was something Cortin could understand and agree with; even if the
man was misdirected, piety was important to the Protector's success.
And if one Aspect told her not to deny being its object, surely the
Triune would take it as it was intended . . . She turned to Odeon.
"Will you and Lieutenant Chang see to that, Captain?"
"With pleasure, Excellency," Odeon said, then turned to the man. "Want
a cartridge, until Lieutenant Chang and I can brief you? I usually
carry a couple of spares."
"Cartridge? Oh!" The man's initial puzzlement turned to eagerness.
"Yes, Captain, please. Does that mean you're Her priest as well as
Jeshua's?"
"Lieutenant Chang and I, yes; Her priests'll generally be working in
pairs." Odeon dug into a pocket and handed the man one of Joanie's
holy-medal equivalents. "This isn't as helpful as the Communion of
Promise, of course, and certainly not up to the Sealing, but we'll get
those to you too, as soon as we can."
"I appreciate that, Father." The man turned to Cortin, genuflected.
"Thank You, Lady."
"My pleasure," Cortin replied--realizing, to her surprise, that it
really was. She turned to Bain. "See that he and the rest who turn
out to be press-ganged are interviewed, thoroughly but courteously,
then interned according to the terms Colonel Bradford and I discussed."
"Of course, Excellency." Bain turned to the man. "Shall we go? Her
Excellency has a lot of work to do."
As they left, Cortin signalled for the next prisoner to be brought.
This one also turned out to be a conscript, but the next two were
actual Brothers, and the one after that looked like Shannon, though his
eyes told her he wasn't; he was the leader, despite his attempts to
deny it. She had him held separately, to be taken to the Lodge, then
continued the evaluation.
She'd lost count of how many she'd questioned, but only a few remained
in the holding pen when she realized she'd seen this one before, in far
different circumstances. Smiling grimly, she rubbed the backs of her
hands as though the Seals on their backs were still scars.
"Colonel?" Odeon said softly.
"He helped put the originals there," Cortin said, just as softly. "I
recognize him; I want him to recognize me too, and I look a lot
different from the way they left me." The man's face was burned as
deeply into her mind as the Brothers' marks had been into her hands;
while this one hadn't been the leader, he'd had no hesitation in taking
part in the massacre, or in helping to beat, rape, and maim her. She
planned to really enjoy this first truly personal part of her revenge,
she thought as the guards brought him to a halt facing her. "You know
me," she said, making sure he saw the backs of her hands. "You helped
inflict the originals of these, among other things; I'm sure you
remember."
The Brother's lip curled. "I remember all right, Bitch. Next time you
won't get off that easy--the Raidmaster says we're going to have real
Inquisitors of our own soon, with His Holiness' blessing--so we can
free the Systems of you and your blasphemies!" He grinned at her, not
pleasantly. "And dear God, how I'd love to see them playing with you!"
"If you enjoy threatening, go ahead," Cortin said, a little surprised
at herself. She'd thought she might be frightened if--or rather
when--she came to confront her torturers again; she was pleased to find
that this time, at least, that wasn't the case. She was more disturbed
by the idea of trained terrorist Inquisitors working with Shayan's
backing. At the moment, though-- "I doubt you'll be around to know if
your threats are realized, much less enjoy the results. Lieutenant
Pritchett?"
"Yes, Excellency?"