"Here is the end to your pain," she said softly, laying it against the raw flesh of the rogue's throat. "As soon as you answer my questions, I will give you your release. You have learned that you cannot lie to me; try it again, and you will find what has happened so far only the beginning. Do you understand?" "Yes . . . Oh, God, no more!" "That is up to you, not Him; you gave up any claim on His Mercy when you pledged allegiance to His enemies." Though, an inner voice said, he could still repent . . . "Tell me about Lawrence Shannon. Who he is, where he is, what his plans are." "I don't know all that . . . please, I don't!" He was telling the truth, unfortunately. "Very well. Tell me what you do know, then." "I'm . . . not sure. No! Honest--he's the Raidmaster, everyone knows that--plans all the new-style raids--but nobody knows him. A Lawrence Shannon even leads all those raids, but not the same one, maybe not the one who plans 'em. An' that's all I know about 'im, honest!" "I believe you," Cortin said. It was too bad he knew so little, and that so inconclusive, but she had no doubt that he was telling her all he did know, as she'd asked. "Have you heard anything else? It need not be certain--a rumor of his plans, perhaps." "No . . . no, wait . . . maybe. I overheard something . . . a hospice . . . or could be a retirement home, or some sort of hospital. Old folks, or sick ones, anyway. That's all." "All on that subject, or all on any?" "All on any . . . please?" "You have earned it." Cortin drove the knife up under his ear; he gasped, shuddered once, and died. Cortin looked at him for a moment, then smiled. "Compared to your present master, my friend, I was easy on you. May you suffer under him for eternity." Odeon tasted bile, knew suddenly he was going to be sick. "Joanie--" She turned, saw his pale face, and hurried to him. "Can you make it to the washroom?" "I don't think--" "No, he cannot," Illyanov interrupted, coming over and holding a wastebasket. Odeon had time for a grateful look before his stomach completed its rebellion. He felt Joanie's hand stroking his head, heard both Inquisitors telling him it was all right as they helped him into the suite's outer room and got him seated. When he was finished, Joanie handed him a towel; he wiped his mouth and looked up at them. "I'm sorry." "That is a normal reaction," Illyanov said calmly. "There is no need to apologize; you did better than could have been expected." "You should've left if it bothered you," Cortin said. "I'd like to have you backing me, yes, but not if my work's going to upset you like this." "I'll get used to it," Odeon said stubbornly. "I can't promise I'll ever get to like it, but I will learn to handle it well enough to give you any backup you need."