Cortin grinned. "From everything I've seen, His Majesty usually does. I'm glad to hear it went so well--did Ivan come back with you?" "Yes--and he's come up with a 'territorial' insignia I'd love to wear." Cortin would have pursued that, but there was no time; Odeon was returning, with Blackfeather and Pritchett close behind him, and Bain was approaching from the holding pen. She moved forward, signalling Bain to stop. When the group had joined him, now within earshot of the prisoners, she asked, "Have you done any preliminaries, Lieutenant?" "Yes, ma'am, but with some exceptions Colonel Bradford has probably told you about, nothing very productive. None of the hard-cores want to volunteer anything, and Mother Superior won't hear of an Inquisitor working on a wounded man under her care." "Of course not." Cortin couldn't blame her for that, though getting immediate information would have been helpful. "All right, bring them over one at a time. It shouldn't take more than two or three questions to separate them--though with you and Colonel Bradford talking about unexpected problems, I could be wrong." "Not exactly," Bain said. "Best you see for yourself, though; to me, it's at least close to the worst of the Brothers' atrocities." Cortin frowned, more puzzled than ever. A Brothers' atrocity she hadn't heard about seemed impossible, but Dave believed what he was saying, and Brad was nodding agreement. Well, she'd learn about it in a few minutes, from the ones who'd done it. "All right, have the first one brought over." Bain turned to face the holding pen and gave the appropriate hand signals, then turned back; moments later, troopers brought the first prisoner out. He looked about 45, his expression frightened, but seeming hopeful as well--not at all a normal reaction, and it puzzled her. She frowned to herself, but decided her curiosity would have to wait. "Were you in charge of this raid?" she asked. The man shook his head. "No, Lady," he said respectfully. "I wasn't in charge; I'm not even a Brother." "True. Well, then, do you have any information you think I might find useful?" The man shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Lady." Cortin frowned again, this time openly. He was afraid, yes--but his fear seemed to be of the idea she'd think him a Brother or have any information, which was interesting. And worth pursuing, even though she was supposedly here to evaluate prisoners. "Not likely that you have any information, or not likely I'd find it useful?" "Either, Lady. I'm an honest farmer. Or was, till those bas--uh, Brothers--killed my wife and kidnapped my little girl. They said they'd kill her too, unless . . . unless I helped them." His shoulders slumped. "They've probably killed her anyway--or worse. But I can't take that chance."