Revelation

: MAIN STORY
: The Alembic Plot

Wednesday, 4 Mar 2572



When Cortin got to the breakfast table after Mass, she was amused to

find a heated discussion in progress, about what the family name should

be. It seemed an odd subject, she thought as she helped herself from

the hot-table rather than calling an order to the kitchen--but on

second thought, it did make sense. Women were used to giving up

maiden-family names on marriage, thou h a professional with an

established reputation would often hyphenate it with her husband's, but

the men didn't think too highly of the idea. She listened without

interfering; it was their Family, using a new system, so it seemed

reasonable to let them determine how it should be identified. If their

method looked as if it would work out well, she'd recommend it to His

Majesty for general implementation.



It didn't take them long to decide hyphenating all the names together

alphabetically was much too unwieldy to work. Hyphenation was fine,

they agreed, but more than two names was excessive--the problem now was

which two. Cortin favored Odeon's thinking, that everyone take the

name of the senior spouse at the Family's founding, with the other

spouses hyphenating their surnames, and that argument seemed to be

winning, with the focus changing to whether seniority should be in age

or rank. The debate was getting intense when Powell raised both hands.

"Since I don't class as senior either way, and Joan's interest seems to

be purely academic or she'd have said something before now, why not ask

her opinion?"



"Good idea," Odeon said, after looking around at the rest and getting

their agreement. "What do you think, Joanie?"



"Senior in rank seems most reasonable to me," Cortin said. "After all,

this is going to apply to nobles and royalty, as well as commoners, and

you can't expect a monarch or fief-holder to change names. As an

alternative you didn't mention, at least for commoners, pick a name the

initial spouses can all agree on, since it only has to be established

once."



"Now that idea I like even better," Odeon said. "People?"



There was momentary puzzlement, then what he was suggesting dawned on

his spouses, and he got nods and murmurs of agreement from the rest.

"That's settled, then," he said, turning to Cortin. "Subject to Your

Excellency's veto, of course, this will be Family Cortin. With you at

its head, equally of course."



Cortin stared at him, then found herself unable to hold back a wide,

delighted smile. "No veto, Mike. That's the nicest present I could

ever get! Thanks, all of you!"



"No need for thanks," Chang said. "The honor and pleasure are ours.

On St. Ignatius, we would now be entitled to call you Mother; is that

true here?"



"You've made me head of your--our--family, and I'm a female," Cortin

said, "so I suppose that is the proper title. And that means I'll be

grandmother to your children!" She smiled again, thoroughly pleased.

"Though I hope you'll keep calling me Joan or Joanie, too, and of

course we'll have to observe correct protocol in public."



"Of course, Excellency," Chang said with a perfectly straight face.



* * * * *



The news was just too good to keep to herself, and Cortin knew His

Majesty had to be the first to know about the Family and her new status

in it--though it would surprise her if Prince Edward hadn't already

told him about the first part. She was nervous about the result,

enough so that she was reluctant to call at all--certainly not before

His Majesty could reasonably be expected to have been to Mass, had

breakfast, and gotten his morning briefing from his chief advisors.

God willing, there'd be nothing in the briefing to upset him--maybe

even some news to put him in a good mood.



In the meantime, she told herself she really ought to brief Matthew to

expect new residents and a visitor, then write the invitation to

Blackfeather. And there was all that mail and paperwork that had been

accumulating in her main-floor office; she should at least go through

it enough to sort what had to be taken care of from what could be

thrown out.



She had alerted Brady, who proved enthusiastic about having children in

the house once she assured him they'd be kept very strictly out of her

profession, written the invitation, and was starting to work her way

through the stack of mail when Powell looked in the open door. "Need

some help? I'm pretty good at that sort of thing."



Cortin looked up at him gratefully. "I sincerely hope so, because this

is the one part of my job I really don't like. Pull up a chair and see

what you can do."



Powell did so, taking a stack of mail, opening and going through it

with considerable assurance and more speed than Cortin herself was

managing. After a few minutes, she discovered she was doing more

watching than working--and being impressed. When he finished with the

stack, she took it and scrutinized his work.



That was even more impressive than watching him, because he had dealt

with every piece exactly as she would have. Impressive, and a little

frightening--but she wasn't about to question a gift from God. "What

do you do during the day, Chuck?"



Powell flushed. "Not much, I'm afraid. Read, mostly, between Mass and

supper--and entertain myself, of course. It's fun, but I'd like to do

something more . . . productive."



"Productive as in?"



"This sort of thing. I'm pretty good at it, I think, and you don't

like it--maybe I could be your secretary, or aide, or whatever you'd

want to call it?"



Cortin chuckled. "'Great minds' . . . You're more than pretty good,

you're incredible--almost as if you were reading my mind. The job's

all yours, with my thanks."



Powell flushed again. "It's easy--when we were so close to being one

person, you wanted me--maybe all of us--to know you as well as we

could. I can sort of put myself in your place, at least enough to

handle routine things the way you would. And I enjoy doing it."



"As I said, it's all yours." Cortin handed him the invitation to

Blackfeather. "I thought I ought to write this myself, and I'm never

sure when I'll have time free, but I don't want it going out until we

can be sure she'll get it after the Bains arrive. Can you handle that?"



"No problem." Powell took the paper. "They'll be arriving a week from

Saturday, right?"



"That's what I understand, yes."



"Mail it a week from today, then." Powell clipped a note to the

invitation and put it in the middle basket of her stack. "Okay,

anything else?"



Cortin glanced at the clock and winced. "I have to call His Majesty

and tell him about the Family--stick around and give me moral support?"



"Of course."



"Thanks." Cortin made the call, almost wishing the King wouldn't

answer. When he did and she identified herself, though, she could hear

a smile in his voice.



"Good work, Colonel. Our congratulations to the newlyweds--please

bring them to the Palace when you're free, to accept them in person."



"My pleasure, Your Majesty--but there's more." Cortin took a deep

breath, hoping she didn't sound as nervous as she felt. "They've

adopted me as mother, and taken Cortin as the Family name."



"Outstanding," the King said with obvious satisfaction. "A slight

change, then. Bring them all over as soon as possible--Edward will be

waiting to bring you to the Throne Room."



"But what--" Cortin cut herself off. She'd find out soon enough; this

was just another example of His Majesty keeping his own counsel. Good

thing Dave and Tiny hadn't left yet . . . "Yes, Sire. Ten minutes,

unless you want us in dress uniform."



"Service uniform is fine. Ten minutes, then."



* * * * *



As promised, Prince Edward was waiting when they got to the Palace.

All except Cortin left their weapons with the armorer, then the Prince

led them to the Throne Room. His Majesty was seated on the Throne, in

everyday clothes but wearing the Crown and holding the Sword of State,

and the rest of the Sealed ones and Her Majesty the Queen were in

attendance. It looked like an informal Grand Audience, Cortin thought,

but that was a contradiction in terms--yet she'd never heard of Crown

and Sword being used at the same time except at a Coronation or Grand

Audience, and this certainly wasn't a Coronation!



The King smiled. "Thank you for your promptness, gentles. We

congratulate you on your marriage and your choice of a Family head, and

We offer Our best wishes for a long and happy Family life."



"Thank you, Your Majesty." His congratulations and good wishes were

welcome, Cortin thought, but hardly call for ceremonial . . .



"Neither your marriage nor what We will shortly do must be made public

until after the Strike Force is activated, but since it will require

you to make major changes in your lives, We have chosen to give you

some time to adapt in private." The King stood, descended from the

dais to stand in front of the Throne. "Joan Cortin, approach Us and

kneel."



Cortin obeyed, puzzled. Whatever was going on certainly wasn't normal!

When she knelt, the King said, "We believe your extended family

structure to be in the best interest of Our realm and subjects. To

demonstrate Our support and approval and to give you temporal power to

assist in establishing more such Families, We hereby name Joan Cortin



and her heirs to head the Northwest Territory, now the Archduchy of

High Teton, as long as this Kingdom shall stand." He touched both her

shoulders with the flat of the Sword. "Rise, Your Grace."



Too stunned for immediate reaction, Cortin did as she was told. She'd

barely gotten used to being King's Inquisitor; now she was suddenly

Arch-duchess as well. Granted that His Majesty was close-mouthed about

his plans until he acted on them, he could have given her some warning!



Not long afterward the group was in the Sable Room, a large version of

Harmony Lodge's common-room, having hot drinks and cinnamon-cake.

Cortin was starting to recover, and realizing it was probably a good

thing His Majesty had surprised her. If he'd asked, she would have

turned it down; now, it was too late. But--"Your Majesty, I don't see

how I can do both jobs properly."



"You can't, of course, and I don't expect you to. I assume you want to

keep on as Royal Inquisitor?"



"I think I can do more good in that position, yes, Sire. At least

until the Brotherhood is eliminated."



"I agree," the King said, surprising her. "And I have no intention of

separating you from your Family, though under normal circumstances your

heir would act as your regent while you carry out Royal

responsibilities. My son has agreed to act in that capacity until you

feel free to relinquish your Inquisitorial duties, or until you want

your heir to take over." He paused. "And who is your heir, Your

Grace? Since you do not and cannot have children, I must require you

to designate your successor."



"I've hardly had time to think about that, Sire." He was absolutely

right, she did have that responsibility to her new lieges--and she

dared not waste any time fulfilling it. She was still positive she'd

have to face Shannon, and that whatever restraints held him back now

were unlikely in the extreme to do so then. Whether he was just

Shayan's tool, or Shayan himself, it was the Hell-King's power she'd be

facing then, and that was power no mortal could match. She'd probably

be killed outright; if not, she could only pray that God would be

merciful and not leave her subject to Shayan's torture. At least she

had the certainty of dying in a state of grace . . .



"In that case," the King's voice interrupted her thoughts, "might I

suggest that the next-senior Family member would be a reasonable

choice? That would logically be Captain Cortin-Odeon, true?"



"True, Your Majesty." Cortin glanced at Mike, savoring the sound of

his Family name. He was the logical choice--and designating him would

have an extra benefit, as far as she was concerned. Once all this was

made public and he was openly heir to a major fief, he'd be kept out of

unusually difficult situations. He might not particularly like that,

but it would certainly be easier for her, not having to worry about

him. The same would be true of the rest, though to a lesser degree, as

members of the nobility. Yes, it was just as well His Majesty hadn't

given her an opportunity to refuse! "An excellent suggestion; I so

designate him."



"Designation confirmed," the King said promptly. "As heir to an

Archduchess, that makes him a Duke and his spouses . . . hmm." The

King frowned, smiling at the same time. "I can see where we need some

new terminology to fit the new Families. Calling a man 'Duchess'--or

the equivalent for lower ranks--could lead to all sorts of confusion,

even though it was the proper term for the spouse in a conventional

family. And 'Duke-spouse' is clumsy. Suggestions, anyone?"



There was silence for a while, then Powell raised a tentative hand.



"Yes, my Lord?" the King said.



Powell looked startled, an emotion Cortin echoed until it made her grin

instead. She wasn't the only one who'd have some adjusting to do!

Then Powell gathered himself and went on. "It's a made-up word, but

what about something like 'Dukida'? It's neutral sexually, and in

zoology '-ida' is used in forming family names . . ."



"Sounds odd," the King said thoughtfully, "but then new words usually

do. And the suffix fits with the other titles of nobility, takes a

classical plural . . . Very well, so be it. Thank you, my Lord."



"I'm honored to be of service, Your Majesty."



"Now that we have that settled," the King said, "I understand Family

Cortin is expecting its first child?"



"Yes, Sire," Cortin said. "And I hope soon becoming step-parents to

three more." She explained about Betty and the children.



"Excellent. That makes me wish even more that I could forbid this

entire Family from going into action, but that would defeat one of the

new structure's purposes." The King frowned, addressing the entire

group. "I have forbidden Colonel Cortin to go into danger except

against those who personally harmed her, a ban that will also apply to

Duke Michael after the convent raid and to Dukida Eleanor for the

duration of her pregnancy. Unfortunately, I have to let the rest of

you set an example. Just for God's sake, be careful!"



Odeon glanced at Cortin, then looked at the King. "For the Protector's

sake, Your Majesty," he said quietly, "you can be sure we'll all be as

careful as humanly possible."



* * * * *



The week and a half between Family Cortin's sudden promotion and the

Bains' arrival was one of the busiest Cortin could remember. Besides

her regular work, she tried to spend a couple of hours a day helping

get the Lodge ready, then in the evenings the rest of the Sealed group

came to help the Family get used to its new status and prepare for the

responsibilities involved in running a new Archduchy, and after that

for the Protector's Communion.



And the first Friday evening, Illyanov startled Cortin by announcing

that he'd asked for discharge from St. Dmitri Enforcement, which he

expected would be formally granted within two weeks, and that his wife

and children would be moving to St. Thomas as soon as travel

arrangements could be made.



Cortin stared at him in shock. "Ivan, why?"



"Because I cannot serve in two forces at once. Your Grace is going to

require an Archducal Enforcement Service, and I wish to help establish

it." He smiled. "I also wish to establish a Family, a desire both my

wife and my mistress share. That will be difficult anywhere except in

High Teton for some time."



"For anyone except the nobility, at least," Bradford agreed. "Which is

why, with Your Grace's permission, I would like to move Strike Force

Operations there as soon as practical."



"Granted." That was something she hadn't really considered, but she

could see why it would be true; her new fief had a small population,

which made it seem safe to assume its inhabitants would be in favor of

a change that would allow them to expand. "Have we had enough practice

for one night?"



"I'd say so," Bradford replied. "You only slipped once, when Ivan gave

you what I admit was a shock."



"Good!" Cortin unfastened the collar of her tunic, sighing with relief.

"It certainly was, even though I suppose I should have expected it.

He's certainly hinted about moving to this world."



"He won't be the only one," Edward said. "From what I've heard, High

Teton is going to have quite an influx of people wanting Families--a

large percentage of them Enforcement, with their various Sovereigns'

backing. Not all permanent, though."



"They'll be welcome," Cortin said. "I'm glad of the Sovereigns'

reaction--but I'm still worried about Pope Lucius', when we go public.

I simply cannot see him giving Church approval. I'm a little surprised

that he hasn't revoked the Enforcement dispensation, in fact."



"Such a revocation would have little effect," Chang said. "Those I

speak to during my work at the hospital have made that clear."



Cortin frowned. "They'd disobey the Pope? I wouldn't, even if I

didn't agree with him."



"On the contrary," Illyanov said. "If his decrees conflict with what

you think right, or what Michael and Eleanor tell us of the Protector's

will, you will have no choice but to disobey. Which is true of all of

us who are Sealed, and thus guided directly. We must prepare the

Protector's way, and also encourage devotion to all three Aspects of

the Triune--they are, after all, complementary--in hopes of protecting

as many people as possible from Shayan and his deceits."



Chang nodded. "There is a certain protection available even to those

not yet Sealed. I refer, of course, to the cartridges Joan has

blessed."



"Oh?" Illyanov cocked his head. "I know they are growing in

popularity, with civilians as well as troopers, but I am unaware of any

special protection they might offer."



"I cannot say they truly do," Chang cautioned, "but many troopers, of

late, refuse to go into the field without them. It is said that those

who wear cartridges suffer fewer and less serious wounds than those who

do not. More importantly, not one person with such a cartridge is

known to have died under the shadow of mortal sin. There is growing

belief that if Colonel Cortin is not the Protector herself, she must be

the Protector's Herald."



"To the best of my knowledge, I'm neither one," Cortin said. "I don't

want to mislead people, even by omission--but what if that misdirected

belief helps pave the Protector's way? Should I say something, or

should I keep silent?"



They were getting onto shaky ground, Odeon thought. Their belief

wasn't misdirected; it was only Joanie who was unable to believe the

truth, and he wondered if she'd noticed the phrasing of her denial.

"If it were me," he said slowly, "I'd keep my mouth shut. No one's

being hurt by that belief, and it may help. That Brother said piety

was necessary, in both senses of the word--this could be what he was

talking about. Piety the person, and a pious faith and hope--belief,

if you will--in the Protector and His or Her imminent appearance."



"In which case," Illyanov said, "it is a belief worth promoting." He

turned to Cortin. "If the idea makes you uncomfortable, beloved, I

would suggest you ask Michael and Eleanor to dedicate this evening's

service to your guidance, and pray that it be revealed while you sleep.

I am sure God will not deny such help to one who has given herself to

His service."



"Sounds reasonable," Odeon said. "We'll do it."



* * * * *



Cortin knew in a remote way that she was dreaming, even though it

seemed real enough--the clean smell of the mountain air, the

sun-warmth, her Family surrounding her with the Archducal Palace behind

them. All were in white Enforcement uniforms, like none she'd ever

seen, but that seemed right somehow, and she was buoyed by the love she

felt from all of them.



In the distance she saw a bright glow. As it grew, she saw it was a

man, also in a white Enforcement uniform, his rank insignia a single

silver star. When his feet touched the ground in front of her, he

hugged her and gave her a thorough, highly enjoyable kiss. When he

released her, he smiled. "You asked for help, Joanie; I'm here to give

it. The first order of business, though, is to tell you that you're

doing as well as anyone could, under these circumstances."



"Thanks--that's good to know." Cortin was calmer than she thought she

had any right to be, with the certainty it was Jeshua Himself talking

to her--probably His influence, she thought. "You know the problem;

what should I do? Or not do?"



"Don't deny the beliefs that concern you," he said promptly. "They're

natural ones, since you're fulfilling the prophecies that show the

Protector's about to appear."



"But they're supposed to apply to the Protector or His Herald--and both

of them are men!"



"Not in anything I've said." Jeshua chuckled. "That's a human

assumption I allowed to stand, as harmless. Those with enough power

can choose what sex to appear as--see?" With that, he became a woman,

wearing the field habit of a Blue Sister. After a few seconds, he

changed back. "I'm not exactly what you believe me to be, Joanie, but

then neither are most people or things. That isn't particularly

significant in this instance, any more than my looks are--or than the

Herald's or Protector's sex."



Cortin couldn't help it; she grinned at that before continuing. "I'm

certain I'm not the Protector, but you say I'm fulfilling prophecies I

never heard of. That sounds like I'm being used as a decoy--or am I

the Herald?"



The man returned her smile. "In part, yes. Get Ivan to tell you about

the prophecies some day; he grew up with the accurate ones. In the

meantime, you shouldn't worry about them. Mike and Sis will guide you,

and your Family will support you, as will the rest of the Sealed ones."

At this point it would be counterproductive, he thought, telling her

she was also acting Protector; she would simply reject the idea. He

wouldn't lie to her, but he also saw no point in burdening her

unnecessarily, since she could use the aspects of her borrowed powers

that she'd need without accepting that temporary part of her identity.

And he had no doubt the true Protector would grant her her fondest wish

when he arrived.



In part? Cortin wondered, but she decided against going into that; it

sounded like something likely to make her uncomfortable if she

investigated too closely. Instead, she decided to change the subject.

"Am I . . . really going to have to face Shayan?"



"Yes, though not until after the Protector manifests fully, and it

probably won't be as you expect."



"Is Shannon Shayan?"



"Yes."



Cortin was getting a little irritated. He was answering her questions,

true, but he certainly wasn't being very responsive! What else did she

need to know? "You sound like you approve of the Families, but I can't

believe Pope Lucius will." She shook her head, bewildered. "And how

can your Worldly Vicar oppose you?" She paused, a frightening thought

forming. "Unless the Pope's somehow Shannon, as well."



Jeshua sighed. "Pope Lucius is indeed Lawrence Shannon in different

physical form. I can't explain to you exactly what's going on; you

don't need, or really want, to know. Suffice it to say that his hatred

and basic opposition are intact, but his powers, in that position at

this time, do serve my purposes."



That was a shock, but Cortin was aware he was shielding her from most

of the impact, and she was extremely grateful for the protection. Dear

God, Shayan the Pope!



"It's not a desirable situation, true, but as I said, it is necessary,

and I promise you as much of an explanation as you can understand when

this stage is complete." He gave her a brief smile. "It may help you

to know he has no spiritual authority over those who are Sealed, as

Ivan told you--and it's Mike and Sis who have that authority over those

who are devoted to the Protector. Pass on to them, would you, that the

time has come to institute the bread and milk Communion of Promise?

It'll give limited protection to those who want to be Sealed but can't

until the Protector manifests fully."



"Of course I will."



"Then except for two small personal items, I've done all that is

appropriate at this point. Let Mike and Sis guide you, accept the

support of the others who are or want to be Sealed, and work for the

Protector's objectives." He smiled at her. "The first personal item

is to reclaim the symbol Shayan stole and marked you with. You belong

to me, not him--as do the other Sealed. Please remove your gloves."



Cortin obeyed, finding as she did that the circled triangles no longer

disturbed her. And they didn't look like burns any more; instead they

seemed to glow with blue light, somehow comforting. "Will . . . the

others have these?"



"If you and they want, yes. It isn't a requirement; being openly

Sealed will mark them for Shayan's personal torture if his people

capture them, and he needs no supernatural powers to make that weeks of

agony. His millennia of practice are enough."



"My team would never forgive me if I left them out of anything, even if

it was risky. They'll want these marks, but I don't know about the

others--I can't choose for them."



"True. If they want them when they see yours, they'll get them. The

other item is a trade, if you wish. Your back pain for the Stigmata,

which will show you act with my approval. To compensate for the

inconvenience of bleeding periodically, they won't cause you any pain."



"I could hardly refuse anything you offer--I'll make the trade." She

hesitated. "Uh, what about the cartridges? Was Sis right about them?"



"She was indeed, so long as the wearer doesn't commit a mortal sin

deliberately. You'll forget about the symbols and trade both until the

latter takes effect." He kissed her again, in a brotherly way this

time, and vanished as he had appeared.



* * * * *



Cortin woke with a feeling of imminent disaster. It had seemed like a

nightmare, especially Shayan on the Papal Throne . . . Still, Jeshua

had said there was a purpose to it, and he'd outlined what sounded like

the only reasonable thing for her to do. She got up, but instead of

dressing--the message she'd been asked to pass along sounded like one

that shouldn't wait--she put on a robe and went to Odeon's room.



He'd apparently had a quieter night than she; when he called for her to

come in he was still in bed, stretched out in a way that reminded her

of a large and perfectly contented cat. "Join me?" he invited.



"Uh-huh." Cortin slipped the robe off and slid under the covers,

comforted by his warm strength. "I'm not sure how much help it was,

but I did have a visitor last night. He asked me to tell you it was

time to institute the Communion of Promise, and I got the impression he

meant today."



"Good--I've been waiting for word I could. What about what you wanted

to know?"



"I found out, sort of. He said I'm the Herald, 'in part'--I was too

chicken to ask what he meant by that--and that I shouldn't deny what

I'm being called, even if it's the Protector." Cortin shivered,

huddling against his chest. "I found out a couple of other things,

too. You know the Protector could be a woman? And that Pope Lucius is

Shayan, and you and Sis're the Protector's version of a Pope?"



"The last I'd guessed, the rest I knew, yes."



"And that we're on our own now?"



"I thought that was getting close." Odeon kissed her, holding her

snugly and stroking her back. "We need two more people, Ivan says,

then we'll be in position to hold the fort till the Protector's ready

to surface. I expect Betty'll be one of them, but I don't think we've

met the other yet."



To her surprise, Cortin found herself becoming aroused. That didn't

seem possible, much less appropriate, after her vision--but it was

happening. "Mike--"



"What better way to put what you've just been through into perspective?

It took a shelter party to straighten Sis and me out, but I don't think

you need anything that extreme." He raised himself as if to get out of

bed. "Of course, if you think otherwise . . ."



"I don't, even if a shelter party does sound nice." Cortin shook her

head, bewildered. "Shouldn't we be getting ready for Mass, though?"



"Is it your conscience or habit asking that?" Odeon stroked her hair,

then caressed a breast. "Trust your feelings, Joanie. You can't sin,

remember?"



"I remember." And Jeshua had been specific about telling her to follow

Mike and Sis' guidance . . . She closed her eyes, trying to analyze

what she actually felt. That was complicated by Mike's continuing

caresses, but it did seem her feelings said this was the right thing to

be doing now. Mass was important, yes, but she shouldn't go to it in

the mood she'd had when she wakened, of impending doom; this was the

Protector's way of comfort and reassurance.



* * * * *



Cortin kissed Odeon one last time before getting up. "Thanks,

Mike--I'm feeling human again, and I'm in fit condition to say Mass."



"I could tell." Odeon smiled at her. "Glad I could help."



"So'm I. Mind if I use your tub before I go get dressed?"



"Only if you're willing to have company," Odeon replied with a grin.



"I was hoping you'd say that. Come on."



They bathed in comfortable near-silence, then Cortin went to her room

to dress. She was feeling better, and it surprised her. The

circumstances hadn't changed, the odds against her and her team were

still bad, she was still sure she wouldn't survive her next meeting

with Shannon--but Mike was obviously a sovereign remedy for what had

ailed her. It was hard to believe he wasn't the Protector, but that

couldn't be, if the Protector might be a woman. Sis, maybe? Jeshua

had appeared in a Blue Sister's habit . . .



She forced herself to stop that line of speculation; the Protector's

identity would be revealed at the proper time. In the meantime,

speculation was pointless; she'd have enough to occupy her doing

whatever the Herald was supposed to do without having instructions.

Follow her instincts and Mike's guidance, she supposed.



When she opened the vestry door to approach the altar, she was

surprised to see the entire team--except Bain and Pritchett, who were

probably at Betty's by now--waiting, along with the rest of the Sealed

ones, Their Majesties, and some others of the Household, who normally

attended Mass at the Cathedral. Her surprise didn't last, though; as

usual, when she approached the altar her mind had no room for anything

except the ceremony.



That went normally until the Consecration. When she raised the Host

and the bell rang, the pain in her back vanished, and she remembered

the trade she'd agreed to. As she raised the Chalice, she felt warm

wetness circling her head, and on her wrists, back, side, and feet.

Her absorption in the Mass was complete enough she couldn't spare real

thought, but she was able to include a wordless prayer of thanks with

the Remembrance and other prayers before Communion.



The rest of the Mass went normally--the bleeding stopped as soon as

she'd administered Communion to the last of those who wanted it--until

the after-Mass prayers were finished. Then she was able to notice a

small table had been set up just inside the altar rail--a table like

the altar in the common-room--and she knew this was the beginning of

the Communion of Promise. But . . . should she give it, or should Mike

or Sis? She glanced at them, got the thumbs-up from Mike, and took a

deep breath.



Addressing the entire congregation, she gave a brief explanation of the

Protector--what she understood, at least--and the Families. She could

see doubt on several of the Householders' faces as she described them,

mixed with revulsion at her bloody state. She could understand that,

from civilians; the Enforcement people, to her relief, seemed more

intrigued and willing to believe her. "All of my team, myself

included--and a few others--are Sealed to the Protector, with Captain

Odeon and Lieutenant Chang as His or Her chief priests." She paused,

cocked her head, then smiled. "To simplify things, I'm going to use

the male pronoun; just remember the actuality could be either."



She paused again, sobering. "Under their authority as His

representatives, I invite those of you who wish to support Him, giving

up the ability to sin when He comes into the open and you can be

Sealed, to come forward and take His Communion of Promise."



She was pleased that all the Enforcement people did so, followed by the

King and Queen. More slowly, a few of the civilian Household followed

suit, though most held back. That was too bad, Cortin thought, but

she'd known not everyone would accept the Protector fully--some not at

all. And she had to admit her condition wasn't the most reassuring; it

was entirely possible they'd respond better to another celebrant.



When it was clear that everyone who wanted the Communion of Promise had

taken it, she dismissed the congregation and returned to the vestry,

where she began removing her bloody uniform. If this was going to

happen every time she said Mass, she'd have to have a shower installed

here--and get something to wear that wouldn't be ruined, or that didn't

matter. Whatever her position, she didn't care to ruin either a

uniform or a set of vestments every day!



There was a knock on the door, then Odeon's voice. "Need some help,

Colonel?"



"Yes--come in, please."



He did, along with Chang. "That was a little more spectacular than

anything we'd guessed at," he said quietly. "How do you feel?"



"Fine," Cortin said. "No pain at all, even in my back. I just look

like a mess." She grinned at them. "Jeshua said this trade would

help, and I think it did, with the Enforcement troops--but it looks to

me more like it scared most of the civs in the congregation."



"Sure it did," Odeon said. "Here, let me give you a hand with that

tunic-- What would you expect, the first time? We're trained to cope

with the unexpected, they aren't--and I've got to admit I was shocked.

Next time everyone'll expect it, and it will help. But--why didn't you

tell me?"



"Because I didn't remember till it happened." Cortin pulled herself

free of the sticky tunic, looking at it in dismay. "Sis, could you ask

someone to get me a fresh uniform? And I'm going to need some help

with sponge baths until I can get a shower put in-- Oh, dear God."

Her memory of the other "little thing" Jeshua had mentioned was

triggered. "Mike, Sis--take off your gloves." She pulled off her own;

yes, the burned-on symbols were now smooth pale-blue flesh.



"What in God's Name!" Odeon exclaimed, examining his hands and the

symbols that matched Cortin's. Chang's reaction was less emphatic; she

merely smiled, then went to pass along Cortin's request for clean

clothes.



When Sis returned, Cortin answered Odeon's question. "Was I wrong?"

she asked when she finished. "I was sure, but--"



"And you were right; if you'd left us out, you'd've had a major morale

problem. We were marked the minute we put on Special Ops patches, if

you remember." He studied the marks on the backs of his hands again,

smiling this time. "It's a difference in degree, not in kind."



"But it's a big degree," Cortin pointed out. "I got the impression

that Shayan's skill is to mine as mine is to a first-year recruit's.

And that's without using any of his powers--if he does use them, he

could make it last for . . . years, maybe, knowing you'd be free of him

as soon as you died."



"True, but years is still better than forever. And if playing with us

keeps his attention away from civs . . . well, that's why we all joined

the Service, isn't it?"



"Yes--though I doubt any of us thought, then, that it was Shayan

himself we'd be diverting. I know I didn't."



"Not directly, no," Odeon agreed. "But some of the ones under his

influence aren't much of an improvement." He paused, changed the

subject. "You did a nice job with the Communion of Promise."



"Thanks." Cortin tested the water temperature in the vestry's small

sink, then began washing blood off her arms. The wounds on her wrists

were as painless as she'd been promised, and looked freshly healed,

though she was certain they'd be open again every time she said Mass.

"Word of these and the Communion of Promise should reach Rome in three

or four hours, which means Pope Lucius will guess--or know--I'm the

Herald. He'll have to take some sort of action, even if it's not a

direct physical assault." She turned to Odeon, her expression grim.

"Much as I don't want it to, Mike, I'm afraid this is going to tear the

Church apart."



"So did the Great Revival, back in the 1500s," Odeon said. "It came

out of that stronger and healthier than ever--it'll do the same this

time, if the Protector wins."



"And if not, Shayan destroys humanity, at least in the Kingdoms."



* * * * *



Being acknowledged as the Protector's Herald--even "in part," whatever

that meant; she still wasn't sure she wanted to know--was a relief,

Cortin decided. At least also "in part", since she hadn't wanted that

kind of responsibility and wasn't at all sure she was up to it--but if

nothing else, it did explain why so many things had happened to her so

fast. She'd do her best to live up to the position she'd been given,

whatever her doubts; as Mike had said, God would test you to the

absolute limits of your endurance, but not beyond them.



And she had help. Not only the Sealed ones, but civilians, which had

been proven over the last week of getting ready for the Bains,

especially the children. She'd expected help from the team and

servants; it had astonished her to have the ladies from the New Eden

joyhouse show up, several with children, to make the third floor--to

quote Madame Bernadette--"a proper place to raise healthy, happy

children."



Since the children who'd come along were obviously both, Cortin wasn't

at all reluctant to defer to someone who clearly knew what she was

doing. While they worked, Cortin got to know several of the ladies,

discovering that their enthusiasm for the new family structure

shouldn't have surprised her; in spite of the fact they were paid for

sex, what they had was more like a Family than she would have thought

possible. Most of the men were regulars, and it was common for them to

visit for other than the obvious reason--mostly to play with the

children. Many contributed to their support, some quite generously.

And it wasn't unusual for working wives to board their children at the

New Eden during the day. After all, as one of the ladies pointed out,

where else would they get more adult supervision? Or, with so many

Enforcement troopers as clients and supporters, better protection?



Cortin had to agree. She still hadn't been able to work out a way to

provide for unmarried women who wanted--or had--children; the Families

were almost certain to face enough popular resistance without their

main proponent advocating the legitimizing of prostitution as well. In

spite of that, she had to agree there was considerable validity to the

ladies' arguments that they performed a public service and should have

the same sort of dispensation Enforcement did. Before the satyr virus'

appearance, she might not have thought that way; since it was a fact,

it had to be considered, and there were times people would be away from

even a large Family. Something would have to be done to accommodate

them, male and female both. That would have to wait, though;

establishing the Families had to come first.



In the meantime, she extended a standing invitation to the New Eden

ladies: they would be welcome at Harmony Lodge, with or without their

children, whenever they cared to visit. Prostitutes were becoming more

respectable; having the High King's Inquisitor/Protector's Herald

welcome them shouldn't hurt the process.



Despite the help, though, she was keyed up when the Family gathered in

the downstairs ballroom after Mass to wait for the Bains' arrival.

There was no reason for her apprehension, she kept telling herself;

she'd never had any trouble making friends with children or animals,

and Betty had been married to an Inquisitor's brother; she wouldn't be

afraid of one, and the children were too young to have any real idea

what an Inquisitor was. Her position as Herald wasn't anything to

frighten them, either, and word of her stigmata had hit the news hours

after they'd appeared; even those wouldn't come as a surprise. So what

in the Protector's Name did she have to be worried about?



Certainly not the Bains' reactions, she discovered as soon as they came

into the room and Dave started introducing them around. The two she'd

sent to help had obviously given them a thorough briefing; they fit in

as if they'd been part of the group for months, leaving Cortin with no

doubt that Betty'd be marrying in fairly soon.



She was the last to be introduced, and she saw concern on the two men's

faces as they approached. Bain made the introductions, then said, "We

heard what's started happening to you at Mass. Does it . . . Are you

all right?"



"It's painless, and I'm fine. Once I get cleaned up, anyway. What

about you?"



Pritchett looked at his gloved hands, then at hers. "No pain--but what

do they mean?"



Cortin explained as she had to the others earlier, then went on to tell

them the rest of her vision, pleased to see their expressions go from

worry to satisfaction.



"What about the others?" Pritchett asked.



"Brad and Ivan yes, Edward and Ursula I don't know; I haven't seen them

since."



"Doesn't seem right, somehow, to keep them covered," Pritchett said

slowly. "Now I know what they mean, I think they should be seen."



Cortin looked at him in momentary puzzlement, then shook her head

ruefully and removed her gloves, tucking them in the back of her belt.

"You're absolutely right, Tiny--with the meaning changed, they should

be. I suppose wearing gloves has gotten to be so much of a habit it

simply never occurred to me not to."



The older boy tugged on her sleeve. "Can I see, Gramma Joan?"



Cortin knelt, extending her hands to the three children. "Of course,

Luke--and Kateri, and George. God willing, you'll have them yourselves

some day."



"Pretty," Kateri stated unequivocally. "Want now."



"Sorry, sweetheart," Cortin said. "You can't have them till you're

older--but I can offer you some milk and gingerbread our cook made

special for you."



"Okay." With that, the three hurried unerringly toward the refreshment

table and Cortin rose, chuckling.



"I apologize for their rudeness, Excellency," Betty said. "I am

teaching them better manners than that--I'm afraid the trip and the

excitement have taken their toll."



"I understand perfectly," Cortin said. "Despite what some people say,

I was a child myself once. And Dave should have told you: in private,

I'm Joan."



"He did--but I wasn't sure." Betty hesitated. "He and Tiny have told

me so much about you and the team that I feel I've known you all for

years. I don't know how to thank you for inviting us into your home,

though. Or wanting us to be part of your family."



"No thanks necessary." Cortin gestured at the children, who were

eagerly devouring milk and gingerbread. "They, and the child Sis is

carrying, are the reason for families--or Families." She smiled. "I

think I'm going to like being Gramma Joan. I gather you intend to

accept their proposal, then."



"Yes--though I'm not at all sure about taking part in group sex."



Cortin raised an eyebrow. "You don't have to if you don't want to;

Dave must have told you that. And who knows, you may get to like it."



"From Dave and Tiny's descriptions, I may; I'll try, at least."



"I think that's my cue," Odeon said. He bowed to Betty, extending his

hands. "Elizabeth, would you do us the great honor of becoming our

wife?"



"I would be delighted." Betty took his hands and kissed him, repeated

the gesture with the rest of her spouses-to-be. "When?"



"That," Odeon said firmly, "is the bride's prerogative. Privately, at

least; publicly, not for at least ten days."



"As soon as possible, then, once the children finish." Betty looked

around, defensively. "Pete taught me never to put off anything

important, and this is."



"He was absolutely right," Odeon agreed. A trooper's life was too

risky to procrastinate; if you did, you were like as not to get killed

before you did what you'd been putting off. That didn't mean rushing

into things--but once you thought something through and made your

decision, you did it--even if the decision was to wait. "We've all had

the same training," he told her. "When the children are done, then."



Betty smiled at him. "Thanks--civilians think I'm being impatient, or

even impetuous, when it's not that at all."



* * * * *



The children were upset at first about not being allowed on the

"grown-up" floor except for meals, but got over that quickly when they

were shown their floor. And Betty was pleased with her room, though

she said it would take her a while to get used to the luxury. And to

the servants, and living next door to the Palace, and-- "Well, right

now I'm just overwhelmed. Even though Dave and Tiny described it all,

that's nothing like actually seeing it." She gestured, taking in the

common-room where they'd finally settled.



"You'll get used to it," Cortin assured her, smiling. "The only part

of Harmony Lodge that isn't luxurious is the dungeon level, but you

won't be going there. And you'll get used to high-ranking visitors,

too--though aside from Dave's and my colleagues from the Center, and

the rest of the Sealed ones, we haven't had many guests."



"That may change now--" Odeon frowned. "Dave. Betty called Joan

'Excellency'--didn't you tell her about the promotion?"



"No--I was afraid I'd scare her off." Bain turned to their new wife.

"Joanie's still Her Excellency the High King's Inquisitor, and you know

about her being the Protector's Herald--well, she's also Archduchess of

High Teton, what used to be the Northwest Territories." He went on to

explain what had happened the morning he and Pritchett had left to pick

her up.



"'Dukida Elizabeth'," Betty said slowly. "You wouldn't have scared me

off, Dave, it's too good for the children--but if I'm one of those who

can be Sealed this early, I think we'd better take care of that, too.

I can see where I could be tempted into misusing a noble's power."



"You are," Odeon said. "I'll take care of it at this evening's

ceremony."