"Unfortunate, but not entirely unexpected," Cortin said. "Whatever I think of him otherwise, I know he's not stupid; it stands to reason that he'd give his closest a.s.sociates the best protection he could.

Especially if it also protected him at the same time."

"What will you do to him, then? Turn him over to the courts? Or take your revenge?"

Cortin looked at her sharply, but saw none of the disapproval the words implied, only curiosity. "Neither. If I gave him to the courts, he would simply be turned over to another Inquisitor for punishment and execution--probably one who wouldn't give him the time or opportunity to repent."

"Repent!" Blackfeather exclaimed, looking confused. "Joan, you can't believe--"

"I'll try, but I don't expect him to take the opportunity." The historian still looked uncertain, so Cortin continued. "He deserves far more punishment than I can impose, but I no longer believe anyone--even Shayan himself--deserves h.e.l.l for eternity. So I'll put this one through as much as he can survive of the kind of torment he gave his victims, though my methods will be different since I have both skills and equipment he didn't--but I will also pray for him, and if he repents, give him the Sacraments and allow him to finish his punishment in Purgatory."

"You don't want revenge?"

"Not any more. I think vengeance is for those who can't accept justice, and maybe for those who've been denied it. From the way I feel, I'd say it's not for the Protector or His people--though Mike may feel differently."

"He said about the same thing before he and Dave got started. At the convent, he wanted revenge, but by this morning, he was past that stage. And I think that frightened the Brother more than the revenge did."

Cortin thought for a moment, then nodded. "It probably would me, too.

You can get to someone who's emotionally involved, if only to egg them on and end it quicker; a professional doing a job doesn't have that kind of handle."

"I can see that--" Blackfeather broke off as Odeon turned, rubbing his knuckles, and switched the sound back on.

"Is Colonel Cortin with you, Sara?" he asked.

"I'm here, Captain," Cortin said. "You have the subject ready for me?"

"Yes, Excellency. How would you like him?"

Cortin hesitated before answering. She had intended to start by raping and gelding this one, but since she now had to take Sara's history into consideration, that no longer seemed appropriate. Although he'd undoubtedly raped and maimed quite a few besides herself, making it appropriate in that sense, the fact that he had done it to her would give it the appearance of personal revenge rather than impersonal punishment. Better to use techniques with less chance for misinterpretation. "Standard position, I think. At least to begin with."

"Our pleasure, Excellency." Odeon bowed slightly, then he and Bain took care of securing the prisoner as she'd asked, and Bain left.

Cortin explained her change of plan and the reason to Blackfeather, and got a nod. "I made the a.s.sumption you'd want to see at least one session," she finished, "but if you'd rather it be later, that's up to you."

"I don't want to, but I definitely should," Blackfeather said. "And I suppose this is as good a time as any."

"Let's go, then." It wasn't until she was entering Bravo's third-stage room that Cortin thought to ask, "Do you want me to describe what I'm thinking as I work? Though I doubt it'll be suitable for publication."

"As I said earlier, even what I don't publish will be useful for background--knowing your thought processes will be a big help."

"All right--but it'll mean leaving the speaker on. Want me to mute him after I finish the preliminary, so you don't have to hear screams?"

"I-- Yes, please." Blackfeather managed a shaky grin. "I never thought I was the squeamish type, but there's something about this kind of violence that bothers me, even when I know it's necessary."

"That's normal," Cortin said. "Nothing to worry about, as long as you don't get carried away, like some Terrans did, and worry more about the criminal's pain than the victim's. Compa.s.sion is good, but you have to remember who deserves that and who deserves punishment."

"I know--being squeamish doesn't mean I've gone soft in the head. I'd rather not butcher my own meat, either, but I'm grateful to the ones who do it."

"Fair enough." G.o.d willing, she thought, Sara would never get over what she called squeamishness; humanity needed far more of that type than it did Inquisitors, or even regular Enforcement troopers.

The prisoner spat as she approached him to begin her preliminary evaluation. "Do your worst, b.i.t.c.h--you'll get nothing from me!"

"So I have been informed, by a far more reliable source. I will be asking you no questions." Wait, though. And think aloud, for Sara.

"Not immediately, at least. You have been protected against conventional questioning, even an Inquisitor's--but that means only that you cannot be forced to speak; it does not mean you cannot speak if you choose. Preliminaries first, however."

Those went better than she had expected. Mike was developing a good ability to antic.i.p.ate the way she intended to work on a subject, and had been careful selecting the areas to sensitize. When she finished her evaluation, she went to her cabinets, studying their contents.

"I'm ready to silence him. Something that won't do more than minor damage, preferably, which leaves out surgery . . . yes, this should do." She removed a vial, filled a syringe, and returned to her subject. "My observer prefers that you not scream, and since I can tell from your reactions if you should wish to confess, I am free to oblige. Paralyzing your throat muscles should serve the purpose nicely."

To her surprise, he didn't fight the injection. "Do you expect him to save you somehow?"

The man shook his head, sneering.

"To give you an easy death, then?"

He shrugged.

"You believe it possible, though he avoids me and did nothing to save you from Captain Odeon's beating."

"On the other hand," Blackfeather said through the speaker, "he could very well be using your punishment for his own ends. He told me once that letting a failure die under an Inquisitor's questioning was a good preliminary to what would happen once said failure died and arrived in h.e.l.l."

The man stiffened, mouthing Blackfeather's name.

Cortin nodded. "I see he did not tell you he sent her to us. Miss Blackfeather is now Sealed to the Protector, and a part of His team. I cannot offer you either, but should you repent during this part of your punishment, I will see that you die in a state of grace."

"Go to h.e.l.l, b.i.t.c.h!" the man mouthed.

"Sara, were you able to read his lips?"

"No. What was it?"

"The usual; he wished me in h.e.l.l." Cortin's attention went back to her subject. "That is not my destination. In an attempt to keep you from going there, however, I will provide you the closest approximation I can manage to its torments. You will die painfully here, and continue to suffer afterward--but as long as you live, you have the chance to reject Shayan, make your torment a brief prelude to Heaven."

After a couple of hours, Cortin could no longer ignore a niggling feeling she'd had since entering the dungeon; she broke off her interrogation, signaling Odeon and Blackfeather to join her in the suite's office.

"You feel him too, huh?" Odeon asked, as soon as the door closed behind him.

"I feel something like being watched, yes. It's not Sara, but she's the only other person here--what 'he' are you talking about, and how could he be watching anything?"

"Shayan," Odeon said flatly. "There's a different feel to his mind-touch--I couldn't sense any menace from him--but after what he did to me, I can't mistake his ident.i.ty."

"Shayan!" Cortin and Blackfeather exclaimed in unison.

"But I didn't sense anything," Blackfeather continued. "I would've thought any time he was around, physically or otherwise, I'd know it."

Odeon shrugged. "I can't say about that, Sara--all I know is what I've just told you. He's watching us, for whatever reason, yet I feel very strongly that he's not going to interfere." He rubbed the scar across his mouth, frowning in puzzlement. "Impossible as it sounds, I get the impression he intends to help us somehow. Not that he likes us--any but Sara, anyway. The feeling's more like . . . it's vague, not based on deliberate communication, but I'd call it something like a determined, if reluctant, alliance."

Cortin frowned. "Are you sure?"