Part 46 (1/2)
”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 t.i.tles, 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 wors.h.i.+p on his face. If she couldn't deny being the Protector, she supposed she'd have to learn to live with that att.i.tude--but she didn't think it would be easy.
”One last favor, Lady, if You don't mind?” the man said hesitantly.