wouldn't
live long enough for her usual methods.

"You're . . . Cortin?" The man coughed, blood speckling his lips.

"Yes." Maybe her reputation would be a help--except that he didn't
seem as much afraid as hopeful.

"Now I know . . . why th' Raidmaster's . . . afraid of you." The man
seized her bare hand. "Protect me from him . . . you're a priest . . .
I'll tell you all I can."

"You'll be as safe from him as you are from me, in a few minutes."

"No!" The man struggled to sit up, gasping in pain. "That's no
help--I need . . . th' Sacraments."

Much as she wanted to, Cortin couldn't refuse; this was why Strike
Force Inquisitors were required to be priests. She got her stole out
of her pocket, calling for Odeon to bring her saddlebags, then kissed
the stole and put it on. "I'm ready."

The man's Confession was hurried, missing details he must know he
didn't have time for, but to Cortin's surprise it was an honest effort;
he actually did regret what he'd done. Imminent-death repentance
wasn't as good as trying to live a decent, useful life, but if God
found it acceptable she had to. She gave him Absolution and Communion,
less disturbed by that than she'd expected--though it still wasn't an
experience she cared to repeat.

When he'd swallowed the Host, the Brother sank back. "Thanks . . .
didn't know how much I'd missed it . . . once you've taken the oath
. . . he doesn't let you know." His eyes closed, and Cortin didn't need
Chang's murmur to tell her he was almost gone. When he spoke again,
his voice was little more than a whisper. "He's right to be . . .
afraid of you. So afraid . . . you're to be . . . left alone. It's
the nun . . . Piety's top of the . . . wipe list . . . more ways than
one . . ." He tried to laugh, choked instead. "You'll need 'em both
. . . t' beat him." That was all he could manage; with a sigh, he died.

Cortin gave him a final blessing, then resumed her gloves, put away her
stole, and wrote a note that this one required burial in holy ground.
She pinned it to his shirt, then rose and looked around.

The Service horses were still there, obedient to their dropped reins,
but only two of the others' had stayed--not enough to transport seven
or eight bodies. "Check them for ID, then get them off the road and
cover them. We can inform the residence's security people, and they
can send someone out. We'll take the horses along, though; they're
royal property now, and th