"Because, as Ranger Medart said, I have several reasons to wonder about
your guilt." She detailed them, ending with, "In particular, the fact
that you were muted, apparently to keep you from talking to me--which
is the only way I can rely on my truthsense for more than basics.
Since I knew the Imperials were coming, and that they had a method--not
this one, though it should be equally effective--which would insure
truthful, if non-verbal, responses, I used my prerogatives as High
King's Inquisitor to postpone your execution, and if my suspicions
prove well-founded . . . we'll see. Does that help?"
Shelton nodded, with Medart agreeing. "The fear's going, Colonel; his
primary emotion now is gratitude. When that fades a bit, I'll be able
to read him."
"Gratitude," Cortin said, her expression grim. "He is innocent, then.
I owe you a personal debt, Ranger; I have never harmed, much less
executed, anyone who didn't deserve it. Thanks to your assistance,
this will be no exception."
"My pleasure," Medart told her. "I think he's settled down enough now
for me to get through without hurting him." He closed his eyes,
concentrating on the prisoner. The light touch needed for simple
communication wouldn't be enough, though he paused briefly at that
level to reassure the other. *Mind-reading is painless, Shelton, even
though I'm going to have to go deep enough for direct memory access. I
won't trigger the memories, so you won't have to relive them; I'll just
copy them to myself, so I can report accurately to Colonel Cortin.*
*I understand.* The man was nervous--naturally enough, Medart
thought--but there was a basic stability to him the Ranger liked. *Do
what you have to--and God bless you for helping.*
*Thank you.* With that Medart went deeper, scanning memories until he
found the relevant set. They were as nasty as he'd expected, and he
didn't like the idea of experiencing them, but to accomplish his
objective, he didn't have any choice. He "reached" for them.
Cortin watched with interest but no understanding as the Ranger closed
his eyes and sat silent for several seconds. Then he shuddered,
tensing, and she watched sweat stains appear and grow on his uniform.
By the time he opened his eyes again, almost half an hour later, he was
soaked and looked exhausted. She wanted to ask about her prisoner, but
instead said, "Are you all right?"
"I will be after a bath and nap," Medart replied. "Reading minds,
except for the simplest communication link, isn't like reading a book;
on any deeper level, you share the other person's thoughts--and
feelings. This is my third time at that level, and by far the worst."
He stood, moving around to ease the kinks. "He's committed no crimes,
Excellency, but he's damnsure been the victim of some. He's a small
farmer; he and his family were sitting down to supper one evening when
several men broke in. They restrained him while they killed his
family, making sure he knew they were making it look like he'd done it.
Then they changed to Enforcement Service uniforms and took him to an
Inquisitor. The Inquisitor already had his report written; all he did
was cut out Shelton's tongue and beat on him to make it look like he'd
resisted interrogation. When that was over, the phony troopers took
him to a judge, who sentenced him to you. The rest you know."
Cortin didn't even try to hide her cold anger. "I'll need more
details, of course, but that's enough to let me get started. Did you
happen to check on whether he was given the Sacraments?"
"Sorry, that didn't occur to me." Medart sent a quick thought. *Were
you?*
*By the Brotherhood?* Shelton's thought was bitter. *No, and I need
them--if you'll help me with Confession?*
"I'm Omnist, not Catholic," Medart cautioned aloud. "I'll relay if you
want, though, and anything you say will be treated as Empire Secret."
*Please.* Shelton's thought held a trace of wan humor. *You have some
of my memories; why should I mind you reporting some of my sins?*