The Alembic Plot Part 43

22. Sara

Sat.u.r.day, 21 March 2572 CE

Blackfeather was still apprehensive when she arrived at Harmony Lodge.

She'd been met at the airport by a staff car driven by a young man who introduced himself as Lieutenant Charles Powell, Colonel Cortin's aide, though he looked too young to drive, much less be an Enforcement officer. He'd helped with her luggage, then driven her silently but efficiently to the Palace Complex, gotten her through the formalities of a temporary pa.s.s, and brought her to the Lodge's main entrance, near the front of the estate.

Servants approached as Powell opened the door for her and helped her out of the car. "They'll take your luggage to your room, Miss Blackfeather," he said. "Her Excellency and Captain Odeon are waiting in her office; I'm to escort you to them immediately."

"I would prefer to clean up first."

"Sorry, Miss Blackfeather," Powell said, not sounding at all regretful.

"Her Excellency was most specific; if you will come this way, please."

Young or not, Blackfeather thought, he had the false-polite presumption of an Enforcement veteran. Still, what else could she expect from an Inquisitor's lackey? "Very well, Lieutenant, take me to Her Excellency."

Moments later, Powell showed her into a large office with Cortin seated behind the desk and a tall, grim-looking scar-faced man who had to be Captain Odeon standing to Cortin's left at a stiff parade-rest.

Cortin rose as the reporter entered. "Thank you for coming here first, Miss Blackfeather. While I'm sure you would have preferred to bathe and have a brief rest before meeting my team, we have a compelling reason to've asked you here. Captain Odeon a.s.sures me it will take only seconds, then Lieutenant Powell will show you to your room."

Despite her irritation, Blackfeather was intrigued. "What reason, Your Excellency?"

It was Odeon who answered. "Something your . . . patron . . . wanted me to do. You don't remember that you were there when he . . . made it possible for me, but you'll remember once it's done. It won't hurt at all, and it'll only take a few seconds, as Colonel Cortin said. It'd be easier on me if you make eye contact, but that isn't really necessary."

Although Blackfeather normally had no interest in making anything easy for an Enforcement killer, there was something in Odeon's expression that made her waver; she stared into his pale blue eyes.

The promised seconds later, she collapsed in shock, to be caught by strong arms. Larry was Shayan, and he'd had her under compulsions to do things she never would have dreamed of on her own, and he'd done things to her body that were horrible, and she'd enjoyed them and what he'd done with his changes, and oh dear G.o.d the horror he'd done to the man who'd helped her in spite of what had been done to him and-- "Sis!" she heard Cortin snap.

"I am here, Colonel," a soft voice said. "Miss Blackfeather?" A pause. "Miss Blackfeather?"

"Go 'way."

"I am a medic. With your permission, I can give you something for shock. Otherwise, I can treat you only with warmth and quiet."

Drugs were bad . . . but the horror of these sudden disclosures was worse. "Do what you think best," she managed.

An immediate needlep.r.i.c.k startled her; the quick blackness that followed came as a distinct relief.

Cortin watched Pritchett carry the reporter out, Chang accompanying them, then she turned to Odeon. He looked tired and a little shaken, but nowhere near as bad as he had after Shayan's "lesson". "Are you all right, Mike?"

"I will be, after a nap." Odeon rubbed his temples. "He said the operation would be nothing compared to the lesson, and he was right--but it was rough enough. I don't have the kind of strength he does."

"You're a human, not a fallen angel," Cortin said drily. "I was thinking about emotionally, though--you don't look quite as wound up as you have been."

"Not quite," Odeon admitted. "I do feel a bit more human, now I've made some constructive use of what he put me through. My studies are helping, too, but . . ." He shook his head. "I'm not back to normal, no."

"Close enough for unity? I'm still convinced that's what you need."

Odeon thought for a moment, then shook his head again. "No, I don't think so. I'd like it, but I'm still afraid of touching you. Give me another day or two of Tangerine and studies, though, and I think I'll be okay."

Cortin looked at him curiously. "Really? A kitten and studying the place our ancestors fled from seem like odd therapy. On the other hand, I'm not about to argue with anything that works."

"Truth to tell, I'm surprised how much the studies, especially, do help." Odeon rubbed the scar across his lips, unsure of himself. "I'm just scratching the surface, of course--can't do much else with nothing but comm intercepts and what's left of the records the Founders kept--but even this early, I'm starting to develop respect for the Imperials. Maybe a little bit of liking, too."

Cortin's expression became quizzical. "That's pretty fast, isn't it?

Especially for you?"

"Faster than I'd expect, yeah." Odeon paused, frowning. "I'm not even as upset as I was yesterday about the Protector maybe coming from there."

Cortin grinned. "I'd be looking forward to contact instead of it scaring me if I could believe that; at least then I'd know for sure it couldn't possibly be me. And the Empire'd be less likely to attack us if one of their own became our ruler. Did those ambiguous prophecies Ivan mentioned say anything about the Protector's relationship to the Great King?"

"Nothing I could make any sense out of, though Ivan might be able to.

Unfortunately--for me; fortunately for him--Shayan never touched his mind, so I won't be able to check with him till he gets back from Archangel. As for the Empire attacking us--" Odeon smiled briefly, "I don't think I'd waste time worrying about it. They've got a whole new Sector full of non-humans to cope with, as of three years ago; I can't see them wasting resources on a mere dozen planets."

"If Ivan's right, we'll find out soon enough, and frankly, that's a subject I'd rather avoid as long as possible. What's the verdict on Miss Blackfeather?"

"About what he said," Odeon replied. "She's in shock right now, but I got the feeling she's pretty resilient; she should be settled down in a few hours. And she's basically a good person; outside his compulsions, she hasn't committed more than the normal venial sins. She's confessed them, too, as of just before her flight left New Rome, and been forgiven. By him, but as he pointed out to me, the sacrament's validity doesn't depend on the priest."

"And acts committed under compulsion are chargeable to the compellor, not the compelled. Other than that?"

"I think I could get to like her. She's intelligent, honest, and given the chance I think she'd have a decent sense of humor. No more devout than usual, which is hardly surprising considering her patron; if anything, I'm surprised she's as devout as she is. After the shock she just got, she may even be willing to listen to us about the Protector."

"And be Sealed, become part of His staff?"

"I'd bet so. Probably not immediately, though I think we should let her attend services."

Cortin frowned briefly, then nodded. "If Sis agrees. I'm not sure how Blackfeather will react with her background, though. She can't possibly be used to public nudity, much less anything like the Protector's celebration."

"She was Shayan's mistress," Odeon said drily. "He's taken her to h.e.l.l, though only his palace--we might both be surprised what she's seen. And she's adaptable."

Blackfeather wasn't feeling particularly adaptable when she woke from Chang's drug; she was still too shaken by what she'd found out when Odeon had released the compulsions that had held her for so long. It was a relief to find a woman sitting beside her bed--and almost a relief that the woman wore Enforcement gray, with a medic's specialty badge. "You're the one who gave me the shot?" she asked as she sat up.

"I am. Medic-Lieutenant Eleanor Chang, otherwise called Piety or Sis.

I regret that your welcome to our home was so traumatic, though the drug should have helped. We have waited lunch, in case you cared to join us."

To Blackfeather's astonishment, the medic's words made her realize she was hungry--and the idea of eating with Enforcement troopers was more attractive than not. After what Odeon had suffered to help her, she was willing to believe there might really be more than talk to their motto of "We Serve, to Protect". She might not manage to feel protected just yet, but at least she no longer felt threatened. "Do I have time to clean up a bit, Lieutenant?"

"Of course. Colonel Cortin has asked me to apologize for her earlier insistence on meeting you immediately, and hopes you will understand and forgive her."

"Let's just say I'll withhold judgement until I find out more. Though . . . I can't deny I'm grateful to Captain Odeon."

"He is a good man, Miss Blackfeather, a priest of both Jeshua and the Protector. He is also, though he would probably laugh at the term, a wise man. He is, however, deeply troubled by the h.e.l.l-King's touch, so if he should seem wary of you, please realize it is nothing at all personal."

"I think I can manage that," Blackfeather said. She went into the bathroom to take care of her needs, then emerged to dress. When she was done, Chang led her to the dining room--where she was astonished to find three young children munching on cookies, and an apologetic-looking Colonel of Enforcement.