o do so accurately, lest we release those who will harm the
ones we are sworn to protect."

"That would have to be a part of it," Cortin agreed. "Try some test
questions on me. I'll try to lie on one of them; if you've got the
same kind of truthsense now that I do, you'll be able to feel which
one."

"Questions I do not know the answers to. Having been your instructor,
I know you well enough for that to be difficult; let me think."

He had finished bathing her and was being bathed in turn before he was
able to think of any. As he'd told her, he knew too much about her for
most conventional questions to be evidential, and the unconventional
ones he really wanted to ask would tell her too much. "Do you believe
the Protector's appearance will make our profession obsolete?"

"No," Cortin said promptly. "We'll be just as necessary, though not
always in the same way, I'm sure." She grinned. "Not everyone's going
to be willing to give up even the little free will we did, either to be
sure of Heaven or to avoid Hell. Criminals still won't give up their
information without a fight, and they'll still need mortal punishment;
there'll definitely be a place for Inquisitors!"

"That is good to know. Ah . . . let me see. I do not remember that we
ever went into your pre-Academy background, with the exception of your
family being a farming one; if the subject would not be too painful,
that might be a possible area of evidence."

"My adoptive family," Cortin corrected him. "But I can't say my
childhood was any more painful than average, so go ahead."

"Do you remember your biological parents at all?"

"No. As far as I know, I never saw either of them; I was the classic
orphan left in a basket on someone's front porch."

"What about siblings?"

"One, an older brother. Though Mother and Father would have dearly
loved more; I remember regular Masses for that intention."

"And how did they feel when you went into Enforcement?"

"As surprised as I was, and I think a little disappointed, though they
tried not to show it. We . . . lost touch . . . not long after I went
to the Academy."

"Not a close family, then."

"Not particularly," Cortin agreed. "When I gave up farming, we had no
interests in common any longer, so I suppose it was natural to lose
contact. It was my fault as much as theirs; I got so absorbed in my
studies that I took longer and longer answering letters, and when I
did, it was about the Acad