d in reverse order of capture, which
made sense; the ones deemed to have critical information had already
been removed, so the ones on top would be the ones who had been here
longest, already softened up by the first stages of interrogation.

When she opened the last folder, she bit back a curse, then, at
Illyanov's startled glance, said, "I think I just found out why the
badge." She turned the folder so he could read it easily. The subject
was a deserter, who had compounded his crime by joining the
Brotherhood, but was so new to it that he was believed to have no
significant information. "Bradford's making sure I don't do what this
plaguer did. I told you he was reading more than I wanted to tell
him--he had to know I'd never join the Brotherhood, but he also had to
know I'd go after them, either legally or as a rogue. And that I'd
much rather do it legally."

Illyanov nodded. "I read the same things, of course. I did not,
however, realize that his desire to keep you in Enforcement was great
enough he would have all practical training waived--even for one who
had made perfect scores in all the theoretical material."

"You didn't tell me that!"

"I did not wish to make you over-confident. That, however, is no
longer a consideration; if you are to function independently, with
little or no notice and limited practical experience, you should be as
certain as possible of your ability to do so." He smiled. "As I did
tell you, you were most promising. Motivation and hard work have let
you live up to that promise so far; I see no reason to doubt that you
will continue to do so. But now, Inquisitor-Captain Cortin, you have
an interrogation to conduct." He gestured at the folders. "Logic will
tell you to choose one who has been through preliminary questioning,
and your emotions will tell you to choose the rogue-turned-Brother.
However, you have been an Enforcement officer long enough to have
learned to trust certain feelings; do any of them indicate which of
these will give you the most useful information?"

Cortin moved her hands across the folders as if she could get her
information that way, wishing she really could. She had learned to
trust her hunches--they had kept her alive more than once--but she was
less certain of them in these circumstances. Finally, she picked two
she thought ought to have more information than their records
suggested: a thief suspected of exercising his skills for the
Brotherhoo