Bradford had agreed with her about ruining a uniform or set of vestments every time she said Mass, and since the purpose of her stigmata was to show Jeshua's approval of her, she couldn't wear bandages, so he'd given her permission to wear just the alb, cincture, stole, and sandals. It looked odd to someone used to seeing mostly a chasuble, but no odder than her fellow priests in uniform and armed; it was being weaponless that bothered her most, though she didn't want to ruin a perfectly good gunbelt and holster, either. The Cathedral was packed, highly unusual for a weekday and flattering, though it also made her nervous--until she got to the altar and began the ceremony. As always, she lost herself in it, unaware of her surroundings except while she was giving Communion. It was then she realized there were far more troopers here than their percentage of the population would have suggested, which pleased her. It pleased her even more after Mass, when she explained the Protector's impending arrival and offered the Communion of Promise, that practically all of them came forward to accept it. Some civilians did so as well, though most held back, their expressions either uncertain or disapproving. When that was over too and she'd gotten dressed, ready to leave, she discovered that the troopers had other plans. Their spokesman, Captain Watkins--she remembered him, the first person she'd administered Confession to--invited her and her team to a breakfast banquet at the Royal Hotel. She accepted gladly; much as she enjoyed being at Harmony Lodge, the idea of going out for breakfast was appealing. It wouldn't do Mike any harm, either, and she liked the idea of having Chuck seen as one of her team by people who might otherwise have trouble believing it. And Chuck did seem to enjoy being at the head table. "Having fun?" she asked with a smile. Powell returned the smile. "Sure am! Last time I saw some of these, I was a prisoner remanded to the High King's Inquisitor, thinking sure I'd be dead in a day or so--now I'm your private secretary, Sealed to the Protector, and happy as a puppy with a new kid. What more could anyone ask?" "Put that way, nothing," Cortin replied, amused. "You also look better in uniform than you did in civvies, if that matters." "I think so, too." Powell hesitated, then glanced briefly at Odeon and mouthed, "What about Mike?" Cortin shrugged, wishing again that she and the rest of the team shared the telepathy Shayan had given Sis, Dave, and Mike. Even limited to themselves, unlike the telepathic Talent Ivan described, it would have been useful. There was no point in fruitless wishing, though, so she turned her attention to the meal and her hosts. "This was very thoughtful of you and the rest, Captain Watkins--we all appreciate it. I, for one, have gotten more out of touch than I intended, that morning at the Eagle's Nest."