Odeon was sitting beside the heavily sedated Cortin, stroking the hand without tubes, when Bradford entered the shelter. He started to rise, but settled back at Bradford's gesture. "Yes, Colonel?"
"Brad, please." Bradford looked at the woman for some time, then he turned his attention back to the scar-faced man who was her second in command. "You've known and loved her for years, Mike. So will you please tell me why in God's name the most talented Inquisitor I've ever seen won't take a nice, safe, productive assignment at the New Denver Detention Center where the most difficult cases can be referred to her?"
"I thought you wanted her in the field!" Odeon exclaimed.
"Dear God, no! If I had my way, she'd be at the Center with all the medical and professional support I could provide, not out in the field getting shot at, torturing herself by making her back trouble worse, and wasting her talents on criminals a second-semester student could handle. If I try to keep her there, though, I'm afraid I'll lose her—she's never said it in so many words, but if I read her right, she'd go rogue rather than give up her hunt for the Shannons."
"I think so too," Odeon said. "She wants revenge, and I can't blame her. So I'll help her, and protect her as well as I can … and so will the rest of Team Azrael."
"And any other Enforcement man who's been around her for long," Bradford said drily. "Interrogation isn't her only talent, I've discovered. She doesn't know about it, I found when I debriefed her—I can't help wondering if you've noticed."
"Noticed what?" Odeon asked, puzzled.
"How people, men especially, react to her."
Odeon chuckled. "That? That's easy! She's an Enforcement officer, so civs are apprehensive about her—more than they are of us, but until Sis came aboard she was the only woman officer. And our people like her, probably for the same reason."
"Your observations are accurate, of course—I'd expect that, from a Tracker. But not completely so, since I have yet to find an Enforcement trooper, officer or enlisted, who's been around her for more than a short time and only likes her. To the best of my research, any trooper who's spent as little as ten or fifteen minutes with her has fallen in love. I used to believe it was because of sex—you know how generous she was with herself—but since her maiming, I found that theory was wrong." He grimaced. "The effect isn't even conscious, much less deliberate. When I went in to debrief her, I thought it would be routine, and that I was braced against anything she might try. But she didn't, and I wasn't—by the time I left, I was in love with her, and so was every man on my team. I can't claim I don't feel any sexual attraction for her, because I most definitely do, even though I'm a happily married man with a child. But my primary feeling for her is protectiveness, and I understand that's how the rest feel. Including," he grimaced again, "Major Illyanov, the entire Inquisitorial staff of the Detention Center, one clerk-private, and the proprietor of the Eagle's Nest. Probably others as well."
"Mmm … that fits." Odeon hadn't thought about it that way, but now that Bradford had pointed it out, it did fit. The team's degree of protectiveness toward their commanding officer and their concern with how she came through the operation were both unusually strong; it was good to have an explanation. Especially one that also explained Bradford's presence—and Illyanov's, since he wouldn't normally be a member of a Royal party. "I hadn't realized, but you're right. So what do we do about it?"
"Damned if I know," Bradford said. "There's probably nothing that can be done, since she's not doing it either deliberately or knowingly. I mentioned it to you primarily because you're her second and need to be aware of that effect. It could be useful—at least if a young civ falls in love with her, you'll know to send him to a recruiter!"
Odeon chuckled. "True—too bad all recruiters don't have a method that effective. It would've saved me a lot of time, when I had that duty."
"It would save the Service a lot of time, too, getting rid of ones who don't work out," Bradford agreed. "If she weren't such an incredibly talented Inquisitor, I'd want her on that duty—though she'd have to have a partner who could tell when it happened, because as I said, she doesn't know she's doing it."
Odeon frowned. "Do we want her to know? I don't like keeping things from her, but offhand I'd say she's better off thinking it's normal comradeship, with her back trouble as an explanation for any help or protection out of the ordinary."
"Which is what I was working around to asking you," Bradford said. "If you think that's best, we'll keep it between the two of us."
"Us and the team," Odeon corrected, "so they don't mention it by mistake. No one else is likely to say they love an Inquisitor, even if it's true. I know I'd never dare."
"Did you tell her before she got her Warrant?"
"No—she never seemed to want that kind of tie, so I didn't burden her with it." Odeon frowned briefly, then smiled. "Fortunately for me—and the rest of us, I guess—she doesn't need that to make love to us."
"I've heard," Bradford said appreciatively. "As well for you—us, if she's willing to go outside her team—that she doesn't put a daily limit on herself."
"She's never restricted herself to a given team, either," Odeon said. "Only to Enforcement men. I'm sure she'd be willing to accommodate you and Major—I mean, Ivan."
"Good!" Bradford smiled. "Both our wives understand and accept the dispensation, of course, and so does Ivan's mistress, if that matters to her."
"I don't know if it does or not," Odeon admitted, surprised at himself. "She's never mentioned it to me, or to anyone else I know of. If I thought about it at all, I guess I assumed she assumed any wives or girlfriends did accept it."
"Okay. Sis expects her to wake up tomorrow?"
"Late afternoon or early evening, yes."
Odeon was too edgy to sleep, too nervous about Joanie's prospects for recovery even to rest well, and more than a little apprehensive about the Brothers, so not long after midnight he gave up his useless attempt to sleep. He dressed quietly in the dim night-lighting, careful not to disturb the others—especially Piety, napping at the table. With a patient to care for and herself the only medical person who knew about Cortin's surgery, Chang slept grudgingly, not letting herself get comfortable for fear of not waking if Cortin should need her. Odeon didn't think it really necessary, but he wouldn't order anyone to be less conscientious in their specialty than they thought wise.
He slipped outside, chuckling ruefully at himself. Sis wasn't the only one taking unnecessary precautions; here he was putting himself on guard duty in a Royal residential compound with the Crown Prince and Princess present! If that wasn't redundant, he didn't know what would be; he'd have the proverbial snowball's chance against anything that could get past the kind of security this place had. Still, he felt better when he'd made a tour around the shelter and settled himself in a lawn chair beside the door.
It was a mild night, a bit cooler than usual for this time of year—good sleeping weather, and the smell of the roses was relaxing. Maybe out here he could catch a nap after all, so he wouldn't be a total loss in the morning—wouldn't want to be a zombie when Joanie woke up! And he was a Tracker, trained to wake instantly if he heard anything unusual. He settled deeper into the chair, closing his eyes.
The man approaching him was impossible. For one thing, he was inhumanly attractive, almost beautiful—but the clincher was his uniform. Enforcement did have some good-looking older officers; it had never had a white uniform, or a star for rank insigne, or a Kingdom emblem that looked like a spiral galaxy. This had to be a dream, then, so Odeon settled in to play along and enjoy it.
It seemed reasonable to assume that a star outranked even an eagle, so he stood, coming to attention as the man neared.
"At ease," the stranger said, smiling. "You need have no fear for your Joanie, Michael; she'll be fully recovered when she wakes."
"Thank you, sir." Odeon had no doubt the man knew precisely what he was talking about, and it was definitely reassuring.
"But you'd like to know how I know." The man smiled again. "I'm an aspect of the Triune you worship, Michael, in a form I hope you'll find—" He broke off, chuckling. "Not comforting, certainly, or even reassuring, but at least not threatening. I'm here to give you a heads-up, and maybe more if you want it. You've thought for a long time that Joanie's something special, haven't you?"
Odeon nodded, glad that this was a dream. If it'd been real, he would've been too stunned to function—because the man looked like an older Jeshua, and that was entirely too much for him to accept as reality with any degree of calm. As it was, he managed a nod. "Yes, I have."
"And you're quite right, she is." The man paused. "The White Fathers taught you well, but human interpretations do tend to modify even the most accurate prophecies. Can you accept both that fact, and the accompanying one that I cannot, for your own sake, give you all the details just yet?"
Odeon hesitated in turn, then nodded, slowly. "From anyone else, I'd say no—but from you, I can manage."
The man smiled. "You please me, my son. The White Fathers called this the Time of Chaos, though Time of Change would be more accurate, particularly where the lives of those on your team are concerned. Joan is the herald of the Promised One, and will act as that one's surrogate for a time, though she will not be asked to bear that burden permanently, and would be far happier if she isn't forced to acknowledge her temporary Protectorship."
Odeon frowned. "The Protector's Herald and acting Protector herself?" That didn't seem particularly plausible, though he had to agree Joanie wouldn't enjoy being put in either position.
"You are a wise man, Michael. And properly skeptical, as a police officer must be." The man raised his hand. "But it's your devotion that has to take precedence now, and it has to be focused on her."
"With all respect, sir, I don't understand."
"Remain her friend and guide, as you've begun. Completing her destined tasks will be both difficult and dangerous, particularly since she must remain largely unaware of that destiny, and her powers must remain mostly latent, until the true Protector manifests." He gestured, and they were inside, standing beside the cot that served Cortin as a recovery room, with Chang on the other side.
The man kept his attention centered on Odeon, though he was clearly addressing Chang as well. "When she wakes, the final phase begins. You will be severely tried, Michael in particular, by pain and loss great enough that you will be sorely tempted to reject me." He raised a hand to forestall Odeon's instinctive denial. "I said you would be tempted; I did not say you would succumb, though even Cardinals are not immune."
Odeon frowned again. In the light of last month's murder of Pope Anthony and Cardinal McHenry's near-unanimous election—he was now Pope Lucius—that had an ominous sound. "There was something fishy about the Papal election?"
"Let us just say that were his true identity known, most people would prefer a fish in that position. The former Cardinal McHenry introduced himself to Sister-Lieutenant Chang as the Raidmaster."
Odeon stared at Chang, then at him. "The Raidmaster—are you saying that Shayan is the Pope?"
"The Cardinals' free will includes the freedom to accept temptation," the man said drily. "Yes, he's managed that. But for now balance must be maintained, which means giving Joan a core group he can't touch, and nudging temporal authorities to give her mundane power to match his. All of which will have to be done without her knowledge, or she loses her temporary immunity before she's strong enough to fight him. If that's how she chooses to handle it."
Gently, he pulled the coverlet down to Cortin's waist, then touched her breasts. "If you choose, you two will be her chief support—and for that, you'll need support yourselves. You've both offered your lives to me and been accepted. That hasn't protected you from sin, because that's part of the Protector's covenant. And it's too early for it to protect more than her core group—but if you're willing to surrender that fragment of your free will so you can serve her fully, I can give you the help and protection you need to do it."
"You've got it," Odeon said without hesitation, and Chang nodded.
"I expected no less of you," Jeshua said, obviously pleased. "Then drink from her, for hers is the protecting and healing Milk of Life."
Chang obeyed immediately, but Odeon hesitated, looking at the drop of white that had appeared on her nipple. "Even for that," he said softly, "I can't take advantage of her. That's not the way to help her."
"I admire your integrity," Jeshua said, "but that need not concern you. I foresaw this possibility; she'll feel and enjoy your drinking. Though she won't understand it until the time comes to make this available to everyone."
Reassured, Odeon bent to his Joanie's breast and drank. Her milk was warm and sweet, so full of the promised life it was almost intoxicating—and he could feel her pleasure in it, could feel Sis' emotional pain and scars fading to nonexistence, could feel God's Presence surrounding and enfolding them.
He was reluctant to release her even when he could drink no more. The unity he'd felt with her, and through her with Sis, was too right for him to want to leave it.
"There will be other times," Jeshua said. "Only one drink is necessary—but once all can partake, she will feed you again and often, both as part of your loving and as a remembrance and renewal of the unity you've just felt." He smiled. "That doesn't mean she won't continue to lactate; she and those who accept her will have special gifts, you and her other staff and priests in particular. It only means that until then, her milk will be no more miraculous than any other woman's. You and Piety are the ones who'll choose those to serve her and give them milk or seed."
That part made sense; Odeon was used to both priestly functions and delegation of authority. It was what Jeshua said about Joanie's milk being part of their loving—with Joanie the Protector, even just temporarily, he couldn't possibly—
Jeshua chuckled. "Of course you can, and will. You don't love her any less because of what you've learned; why deprive either yourself or her of the most powerful physical expression of that love? It's also something both of you want, and I certainly have no objection." He smiled.
Odeon returned the smile, unable to resist the other's charisma. What he said did make sense; he'd wept when Joanie'd lost that pleasure and consolation, and now that she had it back, it'd be unfair for him to deprive her. Not that he wanted to deprive either of them; it just seemed incongruous that he make love to an Aspect of God. Knowing that she was, anyway; it'd seemed normal enough before. Still … "You know I'll do anything she needs—or just wants—me to do."
"I know," Jeshua said. "To your credit, my son, though you don't really need it." He turned to Chang, touching her head gently. "Any more than you do, daughter. You've had the special help you needed; now your suffering is over, and you may conceive whenever and with whomever you wish. I assure you, your child will have a distinguished family."
Chang bowed to him, her expression at once radiant and serene. "I will leave those choices to the One Who healed me, with gratitude."
"So be it." Jeshua smiled, covered Cortin again, and was gone.
Moonlight in his face brought Odeon awake, frowning. That dream had been decidedly peculiar, not at all his usual type—much too realistic, for one thing, so much so that it seemed he could still taste Joanie's milk. What had gotten into him?
More disturbed by the dream than he cared to admit even to himself, he got up and stretched, then made another tour around the shelter before going in. The activity helped—until he saw Chang's tear-stained face and haunted expression. He joined her at the table, glancing at Cortin—no, nothing obviously wrong—before touching the medic's hand. "What's wrong, Sis?" he asked quietly.
"A dream, no more," she said. "I should not have let it disturb me—though it seemed so real I find it hard to dismiss as I should."
Two overly-real dreams not only on the same night, but apparently at the same time … "I just had one of those myself," he said. "If yours matches, I think we can count on interesting times ahead—tell me about it."
When she finished, he rubbed his scar. "Word for word, and as close to action for action as possible with you in here and me outside. Not a dream, then, was it?"
"No." Chang managed a shaky smile. "To live in interesting times is an ancient curse of my people, did you know that?"
"I'd heard," Odeon said. "This was a blessing, though." He fell silent. "If we can believe the visions, anyway. On the other hand, Shayan is the Father of Lies, and his only absolute limitation is that he can't create life. He could be trying to trick us."
Chang shook her head. "I have felt Shayan's touch, Michael; I would know it anywhere, and that was not he. More, what benefit would he get from such trickery?"
"None that I can think of," Odeon admitted. "And I don't really believe the idea myself—comes from a career of questioning everything, especially when there's no physical proof one way or the other."
"There is a form of proof possible," Chang said. "If either of us can do something we know to be sinful, the vision was false. If not, which I am certain is the case, it seems safe enough to assume its truth; even in my most cynical moments, I cannot believe that Shayan would render a human incapable of sin, even if such lies within his power."
"I can, under one condition, but since I don't believe he's capable of love—especially where Enforcement people are concerned—I agree with your conclusion."
Odeon thought for a minute, then made the attempt, with a total lack of success. Giving the nun a half-smile, he shrugged. "Can't violate the First Commandment, at any rate. I can consider it intellectually with no problem, but when think comes to do, no way." His attempt at a humorous grin turned into an elated smile. "Sis, it's great! I've been praying for this since I was a boy and learned what the Protector would do—I not only can't sin now, I can't even want to!"
Chang gestured him to quiet down before his enthusiasm woke the rest; it was still well before normal time to get up, and waking someone unnecessarily was rude at best. His pleasure was infectious, though, and she couldn't help returning his smile. "I feel as you do, Michael—though I still find it difficult to fully accept that I am actually living in the Protector's time. I am somewhat surprised that I am able to accept it at all."
"Me too—so I imagine that's part of the help we were promised. We couldn't accomplish a whole lot if we were too stunned to function, and from what he said, we're going to have to start functioning almost immediately."
"True—though we will be able to say nothing about this."
"Not right away, no," Odeon agreed, "but we'll have to tell the rest soon. And anyone else we think should be part of her core group. I've got some pretty good ideas about who I'd like to see in it, too. Brad and Ivan definitely, Their Highnesses—odd as it may seem—very possibly."
"I believe it would be difficult to find better, if they are willing."
"We'll ask when we get the chance. In the meantime—" Odeon hesitated. "I don't know about you, Sis, but I never expected to be living at the end of one age and the beginning of another, even though the monks who raised me said it was possible and I always wanted to see the Protector."
"My feelings also," Chang said. "I had hoped for such, but not really anticipated it either." She smiled. "I always wished to be both a nun and a mother, and that seemed to be the only way it would be possible. So while I, like you, am frightened, I am also looking forward to the experience."
"From what he was saying, you're going to be more a priest than a nun—but I know what you mean." Odeon studied her carefully. "I gather that being healed means yau'll be able to join the action now—and want to?"
"Indeed, as eagerly as you. Were it not that I have responsibilities to my patient, I would wish to enjoy you immediately." She looked toward the sleepers, then back to him. "I find that strange, considering the circumstances of my previous sexual experience. But it is also undeniably true. I desire you, and I will undoubtedly desire the others when opportunity presents itself."
"They'll be as glad to hear that as I am, though they might find it a little hard to believe at first. Whatever we tell them later, we'll have to give some sort of explanation for that almost immediately."
"I see no problem there; the truth, in part, should do nicely. All know I have been praying for this; I need only say my prayers have been answered. I need not say how directly just yet, though I agree that we will have to do so eventually."
Odeon chuckled, pleased to find his equanimity returning. "True. It looks like you may not be with us too long, though, if He sends you a child right away."
"It is in His hands—but He said Joan will need us both, so either I will not conceive soon, or He will find a way for me to remain with her."
"Any preference as to the father?"
"Not of the fertile men I know. Were he one, and the choice still mine, I would choose Tiny."
The gentlest of the team, except for Piety herself. A natural choice, Odeon thought, smiling. "He'd make a good father, I think. And it's not completely out of the question, with the same kind of help you've already had."
"True." Chang smiled briefly. "We shall see, when the time comes."
"How do you feel, Captain?"
"Mmm?" Cortin opened her eyes, to see Odeon and Chang standing over her. "Not bad—it's done?"
"It is done. The procedure went quite well. You feel no pain?"
"Only the usual in my back. No sensation where you were working."
Chang gave them a thumbs-up, smiling. "Precisely as it should be; you are fully healed, and the algetin has worn off. You are again capable of intercourse, and I believe enjoyably so. Though it may take you a few times to become accustomed to the different sensations."
Cortin licked her lips apprehensively, sitting up but keeping herself covered with the sheet. Mike had said it'd be an order of magnitude better, Sis said it should be enjoyable, and she trusted them implicitly—so why in God's name was she suddenly so apprehensive at the prospect of something she'd enjoyed so much before? Her last experience had been horrible, granted, so maybe the apprehension was normal … She forced herself to calm. None of her people would hurt her, she knew that; at worst, she'd have no feeling. No physical feeling, she corrected herself. Making love with Enforcement men had always been fun, and usually gave her a comfortable, cherished feeling whether she climaxed or not. She'd still have that, which was something to cling to. A big something.
"There are some things you should know before beginning," Chang said. "While you are again capable of arousal, you must understand it will not be the same; you will have to make allowances."
Cortin nodded. "I understand. Can you be more specific?"
"I found it necessary to provide muscular support for the replacement," Chang said. "I attempted to tie the necessary relaxation into the arousal mechanism, but I am a medic, not a surgeon; I do not know if I was successful. Should arousal not relax those muscles sufficiently to permit penetration, you will have to do so consciously."
"I think I can manage that, if I have to. What about climax?"
Chang shrugged, smiling regretfully. "You will have to tell me," she said. "You are not physiologically equipped for such, yet my studies tell me it is as much a mental as a physical phenomenon, so I cannot say you will not experience it."
"That's all I can ask," Cortin said. "I owe you, Sis; what can I do for you?"
Chang smiled. "You owe me nothing, Captain; restoring your ability to function is reward enough. And I have news of my own. You are not the only one to be restored; my prayers have been answered."
Cortin laughed, her apprehension dissolved in the nun's evident pleasure. "Wonderful! When? Who'd you celebrate it with?"
"Last night. No one as yet, not with a patient under my care and myself the only available medic."
"In which case it's a good thing I don't need medical care any longer," Cortin said with a grin. Then she turned to Odeon. "Where are the rest, Mike?"
"Tiny's outside playing gardener; the rest are up at the Manor visiting Prince Edward's security troops. We thought it would be a good idea to let you check yourself out without a crowd."
"I appreciate the consideration, but my team's not a crowd." Cortin cocked an eye at him. "Since I know you wouldn't pull rank for a personal matter, were you the one to stay because we were lovers before?"
"That did make him the reasonable choice," Chang said equably.
"And Sis has more than a passing interest in Tiny," Odeon said.
"Then I'd suggest she invite him in," Cortin said. "While she does—any news?"
She meant professional, not personal, Odeon knew; he shook his head. "Nothing worth mentioning. The Brothers are still laying low, and aside from confirming what you found out about the Shannons, Ivan says the Detention Center Inquisitors have been drawing blanks."
"What about the one we brought with us?"
"Dave and Ivan teamed up on him, but unless you count some entertainment, they didn't get anything useful."
"Blast! Not wishing anyone anything bad, but I'll be glad when this stalemate breaks."
"You aren't the only one," Odeon agreed emphatically. "Morale's as good as you could expect, maybe a little better, but everyone's itching for some action." He made a wry face. "Group therapy can only do so much, even when you've got a bunch of compatible enthusiasts. Which we definitely do, even with you out of action."
"Good." Most Enforcement men were heterosexual whenever possible, to Cortin's gratification, but had no hesitation in enjoying each other rather than doing without; if they weren't compatible, morale suffered. "Nobody's getting shorted or exploited?"
"No. Everything's as smooth as we could hope for, and everyone's looking forward to having you join in."
"I plan to," Cortin said, then turned to Chang, who had come back in with Pritchett. "Unless you'd recommend otherwise?"
"As I said, you are fully healed," the medic said. "I see no reason to hesitate, even with our misnamed Tiny."
"Well endowed?" Cortin asked Odeon, grinning. She'd never seen her communications specialist naked, to her disappointment; in Middletown he'd used the Elysian Gardens, and here, she'd been unconscious.
"Nicely in proportion, at any rate," Odeon replied with an answering grin. "And his stamina's nothing to sneeze at, either—he gave me a ride yesterday evening you wouldn't believe."
The big man grinned. "You flatter me—and I love it."
"No flattery intended," Odeon said, straight-faced. "Just doing my duty, keeping the CO informed. Of course, I imagine she'll see for herself here shortly."
"If not," Chang said, "I will be most disappointed. When I was praying for a normal trooper's sexual attitude and abilities, I did not realize the strength of the drive I was praying for. I confess I am finding it difficult to keep my hands to myself."
"Why try, then?" Cortin asked. "Neither of you is on duty, there aren't any civs around, and Tiny looks willing enough."
"More than willing," Pritchett said, extending his hand to the medic. "I need a shower first; care to join me?"
"That sounds most enjoyable."
"Attractive couple, aren't they?" Odeon asked appreciatively as the pair disappeared into the bathroom.
"Very," Cortin agreed. "Sis deserved a miracle if anyone did, and Tiny'll be good for her." She let the sheet drop—and found out why Odeon was wearing a robe at this time of day; he was naked. And, she thought with satisfaction, as beautifully and excitingly male as she remembered.
Odeon looked at her, afraid that what he'd learned of her early that morning would block his normal reaction to her. To his considerable relief, he discovered it didn't; if anything, it made her more desirable. The remembered taste of her milk sent a surge of thrilling warmth through him, focusing in his loins.
Cortin grinned at her second's fast arousal, holding out her arms as she felt half-familiar, half-strange sensations in her belly. "It's nice to have a dependable second—especially one who's properly respectful."
Odeon glanced down, smiling at her familiar banter. "Yes, ma'am. The Academy did stress respect for one's superior officers, and the importance of a proper stance of attention."
They lay for awhile when it ended, catching their breath, then Odeon withdrew, caressing her affectionately. "You seemed to enjoy that—and it's the best I've ever had."
"Enjoy?" Cortin looked at him, trying to sort out her feelings. "That's … I don't know. Too weak a word." She smiled at him, a bit tentatively. "Mike … it was like climaxing, the whole time—and when you did, it was …" She hesitated, searching for words, then gave it up as hopeless. Even a poet would have trouble describing what she'd felt! "I can't describe it, except that it was like being filled with liquid fire—and I'm still tingling from it."
"So what's the verdict for tonight? Rest or recreation?"
"Recreation, definitely. After supper, though."
"Bradford and Illyanov have been making it pretty clear they'd like in, if you're willing."
'Willing' seemed like a pretty weak word too, Cortin thought. It didn't seem her drive was any stronger than it had been, so maybe it was the length of time she'd had to abstain, but the idea of as wide a variety as she could get—and as much—was overwhelmingly attractive. "I assume you told them I would be?"
"Not exactly, though I did say you'd enjoyed men from outside your team in the past. Sweet Mother, I couldn't even be sure you'd want me, after what the Brothers did to you!" Until he'd been told this morning that she would, and he'd only become positive when she'd claimed him …
"There's a major difference between an enemy assault and a friendly tussle," Cortin said drily. "I was a little nervous at first, I can't deny that, but it didn't last long. I didn't notice you having me held down, or using broken bottles, or gun barrels along with threats to blow my head off from the inside."
"You never told me that!" Odeon exclaimed, horrified.
"I … had a hard time talking about it until now. Even during debrief, with all of Colonel Bradford's skill. I still do, a little."
Odeon embraced her, swearing to himself. What he had known was bad enough—but he hadn't imagined rape with a gun barrel, and he didn't want to imagine any parts she'd still have trouble talking about. Brad was right—they had to get Joanie out of the field, somewhere she'd be safe, before the Brothers had a chance to get hold of her again, off limits or not, and maybe do something even worse. Between himself, Brad, and Ivan, they should be able to find some way to get her into a safe job willingly! "It's okay, Joanie," he said softly. "We'll take care of you."
Cortin started to pull away, protesting that she could take care of herself, then she settled back into his arms. Mike meant well, she was sure, and it was nice having him hold her. "We'll all take care of each other," she agreed. "And yes, do invite Ivan and Brad along—we'll make a real party of it."
"That sounds like fun." Odeon gave a theatrical sigh. "Which I suppose means I should get up and call them."
"No need," Chang said, startling them both; they hadn't realized she and Tiny were back until she spoke. "We will do so, though that will give you only a few more minutes."
"Every little bit helps," Odeon said. "Thanks, Sis—Tiny."
Supper was a festive affair. The meal was sent from the Manor, with Prince Edward's compliments, and Princess Ursula sent Cortin a silk-lined brocade evening robe with a note expressing the royal couple's pleasure at the Captain's recovery. The robe was nothing like the utilitarian one Cortin usually wore, but it was attractive, and proved more comfortable than she'd thought it could be. It had seemed too showy when she first saw it, but when the men appeared in full dress uniforms, it seemed entirely appropriate. Only the two from the capital appeared completely comfortable in their finery at first, since they were the only ones who wore dress uniforms regularly, but by the time the group sat down to eat, her team looked more relaxed.
When Bradford finished saying grace, Cortin looked at him, letting her curiosity show. "A catered dinner from the Crown Prince, a robe from Her Highness, and everyone in dress blacks—what's going on?"
"Attempted bribery," Bradford said cheerfully. "For which I can't be prosecuted, since I'm operating under His Majesty's orders."
Cortin stared at him, her mind momentarily blank. "What?"
"You may not realize it, but since until recently you were St. Thomas's only female Enforcement officer, His Majesty follows your career with considerable interest. Try your soup; it's much better hot."
Cortin obeyed. "It's delicious … I know I was, and I suppose that's reason enough for curiosity—God knows I've run into more of it than I like!—but why bribery? I took the same commissioning oath you did, to obey His Majesty's lawful orders." If she didn't like them, well, she could go rogue after all … "And why so suddenly? Before the operation, everything was strictly routine."
Bradford shrugged. "That's what I thought, until this morning. One thing you'll learn, if you take the bribe, is that His Majesty asks for information and advice, but he keeps his own counsel and makes his own decisions. He won't make this an order because I told him what you were likely to do if you were kept from your revenge."
She'd been certain he knew; she nodded. "And?"
"He's always been impressed by the loyalty you inspire in those who work with you, and he was also most impressed when he saw the films of your training interrogations." Bradford smiled. "Not as impressed by the films as Ivan and I were, but His Majesty isn't an Inquisitor; he couldn't see the subtleties that can make such a difference. Still, what he could see, combined with your truthsense, not to mention the reputation you've earned from your work at Middletown, have convinced him that you're the one he wants for a new position. It's a major part of the increased anti-terrorist campaign, and it won't require you to leave the Strike Force or give up your team. There'll be less field work, though—probably a lot less—and you'll be headquartered in a new building near the Palace compound. This is a small sample of the life you can lead there, one both His Majesty and I hope you'll find tempting."
"I do," Cortin admitted. It would be hard not to be tempted by the thought of living close to the Palace compound, eating this sort of food, and keeping her Strike Force status and team as well. "What's the position? And, with all due respect to you and His Majesty, what's the catch?"
"The position is High King's Inquisitor, which carries membership in the Royal Household as well as the rank of Colonel, to match your counterparts in other Kingdoms." Bradford grinned at her expression of disbelief. "I don't joke about His Majesty, Joan. Or about a prospective member of the Royal Household, who'll outrank mere members of the King's Own if she accepts the job, and might take offense."
Cortin swallowed, hard. How could she refuse such an offer, whether she believed it justified or not? She looked at Odeon, almost desperately, but saw no help there; he looked both smug and as pleased as she thought she ought to be, so she turned her attention back to Bradford. Worse, this fit in with what she'd experienced—and preferred not to think about—while she'd been under Sis' drugs. "The catch?"
"We're hoping you don't think there is one—or at least not one bad enough to stop you from accepting the position. As I said, there'll be less field work, but to balance that, you'll be able to flag any topic you want information on, and you'll be able to requisition any prisoner you want to question yourself. You'll also be asked to carry out the most difficult interrogations as well, and executions of the worst criminals. What do you say?"
"That it all sounds much too good to be true," Cortin replied. Jumping from Captain to Colonel, the highest Enforcement rank, plus joining the Royal Household, access to any information or prisoners she wanted … it was hard to believe she could be offered all that, even with the reputation she now took pride in. And the vision, or hallucination, or whatever it had been that said this was going to happen. She sipped at her drink, a freshly-pressed cider. She did have to admit it was hard to refuse, though. "What else?"
"The clincher, I hope," Bradford said. "A commander who can resist personal threats or promises is often vulnerable to the same pressures on his—or her, of course—people. So a reminder: your team will remain with you. If you're part of the Household, that means they'll be attached to it—members of the King's Own, reporting to you. Not as prestigious as being Household members, and it doesn't carry automatic promotion, but they'll also live near the Palace compound—in your Lodge, if they don't mind living in a building that also houses the High King's Inquisitor and a state-of-the-art interrogation suite."
Not as overwhelming an offer as the one to herself, but Cortin nodded. "You're right, Brad, that is the clincher. Even though you might not have needed it, if you'd given me time to think; I would've realized what the offer meant for them."
"You accept, then."
"Yes."
"Good." Bradford smiled. "On His Majesty's behalf, then, as well as from me: Congratulations, Colonel Cortin." He stood, raising his glass. "Gentles, I give you Her Excellency Colonel Joan Cortin, the High King's Inquisitor."
The others followed suit. Illyanov and Odeon exchanged glances, Odeon obviously trying to look solemn but spoiling the effect with a smile he couldn't hide. Illyanov raised an eyebrow, then nodded, and Odeon said, "To Your Excellency's continued health and happiness." The diners drank the formal toast, then sat back down, and Odeon dropped his attempt to look solemn. "High King's Inquisitor—Joanie, you couldn't've asked for a better place to hunt those plaguers from!"
"No, I don't think I could," Cortin agreed. "It's still hard to believe I'd get tapped for it, though—talent or not, I don't have that much experience." She paused long enough to eat some stuffed shrimp and take a drink of cider, then she went on. "If there'd been a position like this earlier, I'd've expected it to go to someone like Brad or Ivan, with experience."
"I do not know about Brad," Illyanov said with a smile, "but I am not qualified. I am immediately subject to Czar Nicholas, not to High King Mark. Since you express interest, however—I have been informed that I am under consideration for that position on St. Dmitri. I should like to teach you the advanced techniques we did not have time for earlier, but I should also like to return to my wife and children in New Moscow. Despite the climate."
"New Colorado's bad enough in the winter," Cortin agreed. "I'd like to go to your home world some day, on assignment or leave—but I hope it's in summer!"
"It is far more pleasant then," Illyanov said, chuckling. "Should I get the position and require your assistance, I shall try to assure it is in summer. Should you go there at any time, however, I would like you to meet my family. You will like them, I think, especially Elena and the girls, but I must warn you: the boys, especially Pyotr, will beg you for war stories, and they can be most persistent."
"I think I can handle that," Cortin said, amused. "You'll all be welcome at the Lodge, of course." She turned to Bain. "That goes for your brother's family, too, you know."
"Thanks …" Bain said, hesitantly. "But I'm not sure they'd be comfortable in the capital."
"I'm not sure I'll be comfortable there," Cortin said, then turned to Bradford. "Brad, all any of us know about life in New Denver comes from the news and—if we read them, which I sometimes do for laughs—the society columns. What's it really like?"
"I don't want to disappoint you," Bradford said, "but most of the time it's actually quite ordinary. You'll wear dress uniform more often, you'll be expected to attend important Palace functions, and your team will act as bodyguards any time you leave the Compound; otherwise, except for taking orders only from His Majesty—no one else can do more than request—you should find things fairly normal." He grinned. "You'll find out, starting tomorrow … if Your Excellency cares to join Their Highnesses on the return flight."
Cortin swallowed. That shouldn't have surprised her, but it did—a flight to New Denver with the Crown Prince and Princess wouldn't be unusual for a member of the Royal Household, and she would get used to it, she supposed. Right now, though, it was a shock. She brought herself under control and said, "I'd be honored. Arrangements will have to be made, of course, to return our horses and pick up our personal gear. Oh, and we'll need proper insignia."
"All taken care of," Bradford said. "We had plenty of time while you were under treatment."
Cortin absorbed that, starting on her dessert. It sounded at first like Bradford or His Majesty had assumed, even before asking, that she would accept—and maybe they had, she couldn't know—but a little thought told her that wasn't necessarily the case. Bradford could carry all the insignia in a pocket, all of their personal gear wouldn't strain a single packhorse, and if she refused, they could all be returned to Middletown with only a slight loss of time. "Thanks—that was kind of you."
"Call it enlightened self-interest," Bradford said. "And I do have something to ask, when and if your primary duties permit."
"Of course, if I'm able."
"You are; you've done it. Act as auxiliary confessor and spiritual advisor to the Detention Center Inquisitors—I heard how much good you did."
"Gladly—but don't forget Dave; he's a Priest-Inquisitor too."
"I've already said I'd do it," Bain said. "And I'll probably have more time for that sort of thing than you will. I have a very strong feeling your primary job isn't going to leave you much time for anything else."
"Probably true," Cortin agreed. "I enjoyed helping, but if I'm going to do a good job as King's Inquisitor I may not have time to do that very well. And I'd rather not do it if I can't do it right."
"You'll be keeping busy, all right," Bradford told her, "with a whole Kingdom to draw from. The whole Systems, if your skills are necessary."
Cortin smiled. "Good!"
"And it might interest you to know that His Majesty doesn't interfere in his Household's private lives," Bradford said. "I don't know your preferences that well, but as long as you don't flaunt them, what you do is between you and your partner or partners. With the security provided at the Palace Compound and Harmony Lodge, you won't have to worry about outsiders who might be offended."
"No flaunting," Cortin promised. "I have very basic tastes; the only thing most people would frown on is the amount and variety of partners I like."
Bradford smiled. "Such as this group?"
Cortin returned the smile. "Exactly."
"And is Her Excellency interested now?"
"Her Excellency most certainly is."