The Alembic Plot Part 41

"I do not like it either, and it may not be the case. Some of the more ambiguous prophecies of that time, however, can be interpreted in the light of such contact without distortion. What, for instance, if the Great King references were to the Emperor rather than the High King?

And what if the Protector's form, which 'none can predict', is not human, or at least not fully so?"

Odeon winced. "Ouch, Ivan! That's even worse."

"I am not sure I find it so," Illyanov said thoughtfully. "As I told Joan, I believe contact will be to our ultimate benefit, though it may be difficult at first."

"Even if one of them turns out to be the Protector?"

"Perhaps especially then."

"Do you think Shayan would permit contact if that were the case?" Chang asked.

Illyanov chuckled. "I doubt he will have any choice in the matter.

The Protector will manifest, that promise is definite; the questions are only when, and in what form."

"Yeah." Odeon shook his head, rubbing the scar across his mouth, and stood. "I'm sorry, Joanie, folks--I need to be alone for a bit."

"Go ahead, then." Cortin watched him leave, frowning. "Sis--is that a good idea?"

"I believe so, for him. I would be happier if I could be sure he would be doing something other than brooding over his mishandling--but I think it likely he will be; Ivan's speculation could well be providing him that distraction."

"I can distract him further," Illyanov said with a smile. "I received word late yesterday that my resignation has been accepted; with Your Grace's permission, I will ask Michael's help in setting up the High Teton Enforcement Service. Although I do not as yet belong to it, since it has not been officially established."

Startled, Cortin looked at him more closely. He was in uniform, but now she saw he wasn't wearing any rank or territory insigne. "That can be remedied easily enough. As of right now, there is a High Teton Enforcement Service, commanded by Colonel Ivan Petrovich Illyanov.

You're out of uniform, Colonel--would somebody please get him an eagle from my room?"

A grinning Powell left on that errand while Illyanov stared at her. "I had not expected to be put in charge, Joan. To the best of my knowledge, no Enforcement Service has ever been headed by an Inquisitor, due to the public opinion of our profession."

"You're the only qualified candidate," Cortin said, grinning. "High Teton's not going to be a normal fief, Ivan; all of the top people are going to be Sealed. And I think the public perception of a Sealed Inquisitor is going to be different from that of a non-Sealed one. So you're it."

"Yes, Your Grace." Illyanov managed a seated bow. "I will, of course, do my best."

"Prince Edward's going to administer it for the present; get in touch with him for what you need. And coordinate with Brad and his Strike Force people." Cortin grinned again. "I don't think you'll have much trouble finding recruits, in spite of the climate. Just make sure you find a good-sized house for your Family, and let me know when the wedding's to be."

"Of course. If you are free at the time, I would be honored to have you perform the ceremony."

"I'll make a point of it," Cortin a.s.sured him. "Oh, thanks, Chuck."

She took the silver eagle from her aide and pinned it on Illyanov's collar. "There, that's better. Not quite complete yet, but that'll have to wait till you can have territorial insigne made. Go to it, Colonel."

"As Your Grace commands." Illyanov rose, smiling. "If I may be excused, I shall find Michael and discuss the details with him."

Odeon had gone to his room, made himself a cup of herb tea, and settled into his seldom-used armchair to do some thinking. First Shayan's torture, now Ivan studying the Empire and speculating that the Protector might be one of them--maybe not even human!

He stared at the circled-triangle marks on the backs of his hands, deeply disturbed. Maybe he shouldn't be--the idea of the Protector coming from the Empire didn't seem to bother anyone else, though Joanie seemed troubled by the prospect of contact itself. He couldn't pinpoint why it bothered him, since the Protector was by definition divine rather than human, loaning Joanie some of His or Her powers; why should he be disturbed if the physical body was non-human as well?

After several minutes' thought, he still couldn't come up with a reason; all he knew was that he didn't like it. He finished his tea and was going over to the prie-dieu when there was a knock on his door.

He swore briefly under his breath--the last thing he wanted right now was a visitor!--but went to answer it, grinning despite himself when he saw Ivan's new collar insignia. "Come in, Colonel sir.

Congratulations."

Illyanov bowed, smiling. "Thank you, Michael. May I ask your professional a.s.sistance?"

"Of course. What can I do for you?"

"a.s.sist me in setting up the Enforcement Service Her Grace has just established, with me as its head."

"Gladly. Want some tea?" Odeon put his problems out of his mind, more than ready to exchange them for some practical work.

Friday, 20 March 2572

Cortin lay awake, seriously worried about Odeon. Physically there was no longer anything wrong with him, but his emotional state was frightening. He'd withdrawn further into himself over the past three days, despite Ivan's efforts to draw him out, not speaking except when it was necessary to carry out his duties, not smiling at all even during the Protector's services--though he still seemed to take some pleasure in those--and not touching anyone when it could possibly be avoided.

There had to be something she and the rest could do to help, she kept telling herself, but nothing they'd tried so far had had any effect.

She, Sis, and Betty had all tried to get him to make love, but he'd rejected all of them with what seemed like near-panic, and she and Sis were agreed on the reason: he was convinced Shayan had somehow contaminated him, and was terrified of pa.s.sing that contamination on to them. That, as Sis had told him, was foolishness--but they couldn't convince Mike.

Maybe that would change when Blackfeather arrived and he broke the compulsions Shayan had put her under. If she was really suitable for the Protector's staff, uncontaminated despite being the h.e.l.l-King's mistress, then Mike surely couldn't keep believing a single contact had fouled him too badly to touch.

On the other hand, Cortin admitted to herself, that sort of belief didn't have to have logic behind it, and she wasn't the one who'd felt Shayan's mind invading hers. How would she have felt if she'd had to accept the invasion the way Mike had, without resistance, to save someone else? She and Sis had been able to fight, at least, except for Sis' compelled welcoming of Shayan's last embrace--and yes, that had been the worst of the nun's memories, even knowing the welcome had been compelled. So had Mike's, in a way . . . but his had been self-compelled, by the knowledge that if he didn't allow the invasion, he'd be condemning Blackfeather to h.e.l.l.

Cortin scowled at that. She'd changed her opinion of h.e.l.l, recently.

A place of eternal torment no longer seemed to square at all with the idea of a just and merciful G.o.d. Purgatory still didn't bother her; of course you'd have to pay for your sins before being admitted to Heaven, but even the longest and most painful stay there would end in triumph.

h.e.l.l didn't end, and if what Mike was suffering was a fair sample, its torments went beyond any punishment a human could justly deserve.

Even, she thought, the ones she'd sent there believing they did deserve it. If she had it to do over again, she would, of course; the sentences she'd carried out were legally mandated, and she'd carried them out, as required, when she'd satisfied herself she'd gotten all a subject's useful information. Terrorists were a cancer on society and had to be eliminated for its health--but maybe she could use her skill to persuade them to repent. She could manage a mortal approximation of h.e.l.l, and that, even if it meant some extra time under her hands, was surely better than an eternity of the real thing! She couldn't do away with h.e.l.l, but she could certainly see that Shayan got as few of her subjects as possible!

That, however, didn't solve the problem of how to help Mike. The best possibility, she was convinced, was the emotional unity s.e.x now included, but his fear of touching made that possibility a remote one.

Still, if she--or Sis, or Betty--could become one with him, show him that he wasn't fouled . . . but the only way she could think of to accomplish that was feeding him eroticine, which he wouldn't take voluntarily, and it wouldn't be right to trick him even to help him, would it?

Finally deciding that she wasn't going to be able to solve the problem by herself, she got out of bed and dressed. She'd accepted an invitation to say morning Ma.s.s at the Cathedral--probably extended out of curiosity about her stigmata, she thought, but still a chance to talk about the Protector's coming and offer the Communion of Promise to civilians. Lucius/Shayan hadn't forbidden it yet, to her considerable surprise; if he didn't after today's, she'd have to do some serious wondering why.

She'd decided to make it a Ma.s.s for Travelers, with Edward and Ursula, Bradford and Illyanov starting for High Teton's capital, Archangel, at noon, and she was pleased to see all of them at the Cathedral when she and her team arrived. There was no time to talk; traffic had been heavier than expected, and they were running late, so she and her concelebrants, Odeon and Bain, had to go straight to the sacristy to get ready.

Bradford had agreed with her about ruining a uniform or set of vestments every time she said Ma.s.s, and since the purpose of her stigmata was to show Jeshua's approval of her, she couldn't wear bandages, so he'd given her permission to wear just the alb, cincture, stole, and sandals. It looked odd to someone used to seeing mostly a chasuble, but no odder than her fellow priests in uniform and armed; it was being weaponless that bothered her most, though she didn't want to ruin a perfectly good gunbelt and holster, either.

The Cathedral was packed, highly unusual for a weekday and flattering, though it also made her nervous--until she got to the altar and began the ceremony. As always, she lost herself in it, unaware of her surroundings except while she was giving Communion. It was then she realized there were far more troopers here than their percentage of the population would have suggested, which pleased her.

It pleased her even more after Ma.s.s, when she explained the Protector's impending arrival and offered the Communion of Promise, that practically all of them came forward to accept it. Some civilians did so as well, though most held back, their expressions either uncertain or disapproving.

When that was over too and she'd gotten dressed, ready to leave, she discovered that the troopers had other plans. Their spokesman, Captain Watkins--she remembered him, the first person she'd administered Confession to--invited her and her team to a breakfast banquet at the Royal Hotel. She accepted gladly; much as she enjoyed being at Harmony Lodge, the idea of going out for breakfast was appealing. It wouldn't do Mike any harm, either, and she liked the idea of having Chuck seen as one of her team by people who might otherwise have trouble believing it.

And Chuck did seem to enjoy being at the head table. "Having fun?" she asked with a smile.

Powell returned the smile. "Sure am! Last time I saw some of these, I was a prisoner remanded to the High King's Inquisitor, thinking sure I'd be dead in a day or so--now I'm your private secretary, Sealed to the Protector, and happy as a puppy with a new kid. What more could anyone ask?"

"Put that way, nothing," Cortin replied, amused. "You also look better in uniform than you did in civvies, if that matters."