Chapter 23

"Better than we expected," Bradford said. "A lot of Archangel's public buildings survived better than we had any right to expect--not intact, but not needing major repairs, either--so there are facilities available with minimum expense for both Archducal Enforcement and Strike Force HQ. The Governor's Mansion should make you a decent Archducal Palace, and some of the hotels can be modified for Family living."

"What about the people? They must have gotten some idea of what's going to be happening."

"Just speculation, so far, but what I heard was pretty accurate--and popular. I'd say His Majesty knew what he was doing when he picked you a fief."

Cortin grinned. "From everything I've seen, His Majesty usually does. I'm glad to hear it went so well--did Ivan come back with you?"

"Yes--and he's come up with a 'territorial' insignia I'd love to wear."

Cortin would have pursued that, but there was no time; Odeon was returning, with Blackfeather and Pritchett close behind him, and Bain was approaching from the holding pen. She moved forward, signalling Bain to stop. When the group had joined him, now within earshot of the prisoners, she asked, "Have you done any preliminaries, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, ma'am, but with some exceptions Colonel Bradford has probably told you about, nothing very productive. None of the hard-cores want to volunteer anything, and Mother Superior won't hear of an Inquisitor working on a wounded man under her care."

"Of course not." Cortin couldn't blame her for that, though getting immediate information would have been helpful. "All right, bring them over one at a time. It shouldn't take more than two or three questions to separate them--though with you and Colonel Bradford talking about unexpected problems, I could be wrong."

"Not exactly," Bain said. "Best you see for yourself, though; to me, it's at least close to the worst of the Brothers' atrocities."

Cortin frowned, more puzzled than ever. A Brothers' atrocity she hadn't heard about seemed impossible, but Dave believed what he was saying, and Brad was nodding agreement. Well, she'd learn about it in a few minutes, from the ones who'd done it. "All right, have the first one brought over."

Bain turned to face the holding pen and gave the appropriate hand signals, then turned back; moments later, troopers brought the first prisoner out. He looked about 45, his expression frightened, but seeming hopeful as well--not at all a normal reaction, and it puzzled her. She frowned to herself, but decided her curiosity would have to wait. "Were you in charge of this raid?" she asked.

The man shook his head. "No, Lady," he said respectfully. "I wasn't in charge; I'm not even a Brother."

"True. Well, then, do you have any information you think I might find useful?"

The man shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Lady."

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?"

Odeon's voice interrupted, urgently. "By Your Excellency's leave!"

Cortin glanced at him in surprise. "What is it, Captain?"

"This is one of the Brothers I also have a personal matter to settle with, Excellency. A severe beating of someone I love, in addition to the other things done to her."

So that was his personal reason for joining the Strike Force! It'd taken her long enough to learn it, Cortin thought, since she hadn't thought it a good idea to ask him. "In that case, Captain, yours had best take precedence. Just make sure, please, that he isn't damaged too badly for questioning."

"No worse than second stage," Odeon promised. He'd like to do more, but he wouldn't interfere with either her job or her revenge. "Lieutenant Bain has agreed to monitor, to assure that."

"In that case, he's in your custody; secure him in Suite Bravo when you're finished, and inform me. Lieutenant Pritchett, please provide any assistance Captain Odeon requires."

"With pleasure, Excellency." Pritchett reached out a big hand and pulled the Brother toward him, grinning widely. "Come with me, little man. We've got some real interesting plans for you." He turned to Cortin. "We'll turn him over to guards for the trip to the Lodge, Your Excellency, then be right back."

"Very good, Lieutenant." When they left, Cortin continued the separation, but her primary concern remained her former tormentor and what he'd said about the Brothers soon having real Inquisitors of their own. They'd always had amateur Inquisitors, of course, and occasionally--temporarily--a real one who'd gone rogue. That was something else she'd definitely have to question him about, but just the information she had so far was enough to disturb her deeply. Civil Inquisitors were necessary to investigate, and in many capital cases punish, crime. That was difficult enough, sometimes, even though crime for the most part was objective, not dependent on intent. Sin, on the other hand, was dependent on intent, and the ancient Terran Holy Inquisition had proven that religious Inquisitors were more likely to drive people away from God than bring them to Him.

Which, she thought grimly, would serve Shayan's ends perfectly. She couldn't be certain why he wanted souls, but the fact that he did was beyond question. Any people his Church Inquisitors drove away from God would end up as his subjects in Hell--and if they were effective enough at that, there could be an Infernal population explosion.

Population explosion. Cortin frowned at that thought. If they were accepted, Families could, and hopefully would, provide that sort of increase in the Systems. Which would give Shayan a chance at the larger number, which would explain why there'd been nothing from the Vatican objecting to that part of what she was trying to do. Her theory might be wrong, she acknowledged, but it felt right, and she knew nothing that would contradict it. At least it was some sort of explanation, better that the total lack she'd had before.

* * * * *

Cortin joined her team for the return to Harmony Lodge, riding in a command van for what felt like the first time in years. It took longer than the Fleet helicopter would have, but by the time they got home, she'd been fully briefed on the action, and her opinion of Blackfeather had gone up several notches.

As they entered the outskirts of New Denver, she turned her attention to the reporter. "The convent raid ends the cover on the Strike Force, Sara. Their Majesties agree that news should be broken by a Sealed representative; as the only Sealed member of the press, and the only reporter who was there, you're the logical one to do so. At my request, you'll also be allowed to do the first stories about the existence of Family Cortin and the new Archduchy; no other reporters will be officially briefed until tomorrow morning. That should give you adequate time, I think."

"More than adequate," Blackfeather said. "Since I knew I'd be able to publish soon, those two stories are already written--but I hadn't expected that much of a lead. Thanks!"

"You've earned it. And thank you for saving Chuck's life."

Blackfeather shrugged. "I've changed my opinion of Enforcement, Colonel. Before Mike did what he did for me, I'd probably have enjoyed watching a trooper die, though I can't be sure since it never came up. I'm glad to find out that now I'm not like that." She shook her head, her expression rueful. "It seems my attitude's become exactly the opposite of what it was, in fact. I used to defend the Brothers, you know."

Cortin nodded. "I know, and say the troopers who were hurt or killed fighting them deserved what they got. The only thing I could find in your favor then was that you believed what you were saying."

"I couldn't do that now," Blackfeather said. "It's not just seeing Brothers and troopers in action for the first time, though that did help crystallize my new feelings. Mostly it's seeing the Family being a family, seeing the Special Ops troopers I thought were the worst playing with kids and kittens, and . . . well, the part I'm not going to be able to write about because no one who hasn't at least been around it could possibly believe it. But being troopers--especially an Inquisitor--gives you a whole new kind of understanding."

"You liked being part of Dave, in particular?"

"Oddly enough, yes." Blackfeather hesitated. "They're all good men, but there's something special about Dave . . . something I have a hard time describing, even if I am a reporter. A special kind of idealism, maybe . . . tougher, not that any of them are soft . . ."

"I know what you mean," Cortin said, glancing around at the rest of the team and getting nods. Unity during sex was most intense between man and woman, but it was there between any Sealed; they'd all felt what Blackfeather was talking about, with her, Bain, or both.

"He reminds me of Larry, in a way," Blackfeather went on, surprising them. "So do you. Because in his own way, he's an idealist too--even though I'm not sure he knows that, or would believe it. An idealist who's turned cynical, soured against just about everything--but I believe there's still a tiny bit of him that wants the same things we do."

Chang gave the reporter an appraising look, then turned to Cortin. "I believe we may have a truly virtuous person among us, Joan. Not merely sinless, but virtuous--willing to believe the best of people, which I find surprising for a reporter."

"I doubt I'll be a reporter much longer," Blackfeather said. "What Sis calls a virtue isn't, in my particular field; once I've filed these three stories, backing Enforcement, the Families, and Colonel Cortin, I fully expect to be fired. So would any of you happen to know of any job openings for an ex-reporter?"

"How about historian?" Odeon asked. "We need one, with a reporter's training, while it's still early enough to get an accurate account of what's happening. The First and Second Testaments were written by groups, edited by others, and translated by still others; after that many opportunities for intentional or accidental change, we might not know what the originals really said." He made a wry face. "Yes, I believe everyone involved was inspired. As investigators, though, we all know humans are fallible--with or without inspiration. But they didn't have modern publishing; given a press run of ten or fifteen thousand, by one writer and in the original language, there'll always be a totally genuine version somewhere."

To Odeon's surprise, Blackfeather snickered. "You've got your historian, Mike--but if you believe a press run as low as ten or fifteen thousand, it's sure clear you're no publisher! On this particular subject, especially with Colonel Cortin involved, go up a couple of orders of magnitude. A million or million and a half copies wouldn't be an unreasonable estimate of sales, even at a price double or triple that of a standard book. A copy she autographed would be worth . . . well, even my imagination isn't quite that wild!"

"Even better," Odeon said.

"You do know, though, that it'll mean interviews to get everything you remember that has anything to do with Joan--and that the result won't leave you much, if any, privacy. You don't get a major social revolution by hiding the sort of personal behavior you're trying to encourage--even though other people may choose to do so."

"Sis and I figured as much," Odeon said. "We talked it over, between us and with the rest of the team, and it's necessary. There's going to be a lot written about what we're doing, one way or the other, and we're agreed one of them has to be accurate. So you'll get full cooperation."

"Including an Inquisitor's help," Bain said. "Colonel Bradford's the best you'll find at the memory-enhancing techniques we use with cooperative subjects, but I'm no slouch; you may get more information than you can use."

"More than I can include, maybe," Blackfeather said, "but not more than I can use, if only as background." She turned to Cortin. "What about you, Colonel?"

Cortin grimaced and looked pleadingly at Odeon. "Do I have to, Mike?"

"You're my Family head, Archduchess, and Commanding Officer, not to mention the Protector's Herald; I can't say you have to. But I'd recommend it pretty strongly."

Cortin sighed. "Mike, for someone who claims to be a subordinate, you give the most convincing orders . . . all right, all right, I'll cooperate." She turned to Blackfeather. "I will, too. But I don't promise to like it--and you probably won't like what you hear if you think you need to go into what I do in my interrogations."

"I'd rather not, but I probably will." Blackfeather made a face. "Being both Larry's mistress and several Enforcement officers has given me a new perspective on that, too. Especially, as I may have mentioned before, being Dave."

Several of the team chuckled. "You did," Bain said, "and it was flattering--but if you want to be two of the best in the business, ask Brad and Ivan. I'm good, or I wouldn't be on Team Azrael; those two are second only to Joan."

"I'll have to ask, then, next time I see them," Blackfeather said.

"That should be tonight," Odeon said. "I invited Brad, and he said he'd pass it on to Ivan; if they possibly can, they'll both be at our home Communion service."

Blackfeather smiled. "Good!" Then she sobered, turning back to Cortin. "I don't like to mention this, Colonel, and I'll like getting involved with it even less, but the history should definitely include your work, too."

Cortin was silent. Blackfeather was right, inarguably so; the Protector whose Herald she was embodied Justice as well as Love, and Justice wasn't always pleasant. It could be, of course, when rewarding virtue, but punishment was usually pleasant only to the punished's victims or their survivors--never to the punished, seldom to observers, and only through God's Mercy was it satisfying to the punishers.

"Very well," she said at last. "You may have access to the films of my interrogations, and observe any you think necessary from now on. But I have to warn you, you won't find any of it enjoyable."

"I don't expect to," Blackfeather said. "My job's gotten me into unpleasant situations before, though, and I can cope. I think I should start with the one you and Mike have personal reasons to work on."

"You know our reasons?"

"I'm sure of yours--it was in the news enough--and I can guess at Mike's, yes."

"As you wish, then," Cortin said. "It's too late to get started tonight, though, and Brad and Ivan should be here any minute. Why not get your stories filed, then we'll take the rest of the night off?"

* * * * *

Their guests arrived while Blackfeather was still working. The Family adults greeted them warmly, but waited for more till Blackfeather was finished and had rejoined them in the common-room. When she had, Cortin pointed to the new insignia on both men's collars. "Ivan, I know I told you to design a territorial emblem--but isn't that a bit presumptuous? And Brad, how come you're wearing it?"

Illyanov smiled. "It is not presumptuous at all, beloved, nor is it really territorial. I could think of nothing, so I prayed, and that night dreamed of this. We are the Protector's, after all; what more natural than that we should wear the sword and rose you and Michael chose for our first altar?"

"And as he said," Bradford continued, "it isn't really territorial. It didn't make much sense to us to have Sealed troopers limited to one jurisdiction, and Their Highnesses agreed. So did His Majesty when they approached him, and the other Sovereigns when King Mark approached them--because we were informed shortly after my return to the Palace that we are now extraterritorial. Not just Strike Force, but all Sealed troopers--so all of you need new insigne, which we've brought." He smiled, handing them out. "Ivan had several hundred made, for when the Protector manifests, but these are all we need for now. I sent some to Tony and Chuck, too, so they'll be in correct uniform when Mother Gabriel releases them."