the chilly stethoscope, Father Conroy sat back. “Interesting. I’ll have to bring this to the Bishop’s attention.”
“Is there a problem?” Father Murray asked.
Liam swallowed a spike of terror. Is it something everyone else missed? Something else I wasn’t told?
“The creature’s blood pressure and heart rate are unusually elevated. I mean, compared to a human at rest—that is—”
“Is his blood pressure at a dangerous or abnormal level?” Father Murray asked, clearly angry. “For a human under any circumstance?”
“Ah. No, but I—”
“Are there not perfectly logical and normal reasons for a human being to exhibit a rapid heart rate and high blood pressure? Strong emotion, perhaps?” Father Murray asked.
“Ah.” Father Conroy blinked several times. “In cases of—of undue stress—”
Relieved, Liam kept his expression blank.
“Yes,” Father Murray said. “In cases of undue stress. Yes.” He paused. “You and I both know the Order accepts only the best, most qualified, highly intelligent and skilled for service. You’ve been entrusted with a grave responsibility. As such is the case, I assume you are good at your job. What is your specialty, by the way?”
Father Conroy looked confused. Liam couldn’t blame him. It was as if a mask had been lifted. He hadn’t seen this side of Father Murray before and couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to witness a dressing-down.
“Medical research focusing in hematology and genetics with an interest in biochemistry,” Father Conroy said.
Nodding, Father Murray said, “In case you were curious, my specialty of expertise is psychology and medical biology. It is my duty to observe others—my brothers within the Order as well as those outside it—for certain mental influences and…” He paused. “…weaknesses. In the case of my brothers, this includes weaknesses which might affect the accuracy of their work. Ours is a hazardous calling, after all.”
Liam thought he perceived a minute shift in Father Conroy’s careful expression.
“You’re familiar with the scientific method?” Father Murray asked.
Father Conroy frowned. “Of course. I—”
“Of course,” Father Murray said. “It’s a basic concept and employed across multiple scientific disciplines. In your experience, have you witnessed an instance of an observer’s bias effecting data outcome?”
Father Conroy blinked but didn’t answer.
“We all have. To disastrous results,” Father Murray said. “So. With all these things in mind, wouldn’t it best serve the Order to make observations from a less assuming, perhaps even neutral, position?”
Swallowing, Father Conroy said, “Well, perhaps.”
“Good,” Father Murray said. “I’m sure Bishop Avery and the Grand Inquisitor would both be reassured by your devotion to accuracy.”
Father Conroy nodded and returned to his work with an altered attitude. As Liam was weighed and measured in more ways than he thought necessary, Father Conroy filled in several pages of forms and charts. When that was done he picked up an empty syringe and said he needed to collect a blood sample. Liam looked once more to Father Murray who nodded encouragement.
Liam sighed and gave the Inquisitor his left arm. The man gazed down at Liam’s inner elbow and paused.
“You’ve scar tissue here.”
“Aye. A fucking Peeler got fucking careless with his fucking questions,” Liam said. “What the fuck does it matter to you?”
“May I have the other arm?”
Liam gave Father Conroy his right arm and gritted his teeth. Father Conroy took the blood sample, taped the puncture wound, gathered his paperwork and left.
Slipping into his jeans, Liam said, “Thanks.”
“For what?” Father Murray asked.
“For taking a stand with that fuck. But what I don’t understand is why he took a tongue lashing from you?”
“I reminded him that while he may be an Inquisitor, I am a Guardian. Which means that it is not only my
“Is there a problem?” Father Murray asked.
Liam swallowed a spike of terror. Is it something everyone else missed? Something else I wasn’t told?
“The creature’s blood pressure and heart rate are unusually elevated. I mean, compared to a human at rest—that is—”
“Is his blood pressure at a dangerous or abnormal level?” Father Murray asked, clearly angry. “For a human under any circumstance?”
“Ah. No, but I—”
“Are there not perfectly logical and normal reasons for a human being to exhibit a rapid heart rate and high blood pressure? Strong emotion, perhaps?” Father Murray asked.
“Ah.” Father Conroy blinked several times. “In cases of—of undue stress—”
Relieved, Liam kept his expression blank.
“Yes,” Father Murray said. “In cases of undue stress. Yes.” He paused. “You and I both know the Order accepts only the best, most qualified, highly intelligent and skilled for service. You’ve been entrusted with a grave responsibility. As such is the case, I assume you are good at your job. What is your specialty, by the way?”
Father Conroy looked confused. Liam couldn’t blame him. It was as if a mask had been lifted. He hadn’t seen this side of Father Murray before and couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to witness a dressing-down.
“Medical research focusing in hematology and genetics with an interest in biochemistry,” Father Conroy said.
Nodding, Father Murray said, “In case you were curious, my specialty of expertise is psychology and medical biology. It is my duty to observe others—my brothers within the Order as well as those outside it—for certain mental influences and…” He paused. “…weaknesses. In the case of my brothers, this includes weaknesses which might affect the accuracy of their work. Ours is a hazardous calling, after all.”
Liam thought he perceived a minute shift in Father Conroy’s careful expression.
“You’re familiar with the scientific method?” Father Murray asked.
Father Conroy frowned. “Of course. I—”
“Of course,” Father Murray said. “It’s a basic concept and employed across multiple scientific disciplines. In your experience, have you witnessed an instance of an observer’s bias effecting data outcome?”
Father Conroy blinked but didn’t answer.
“We all have. To disastrous results,” Father Murray said. “So. With all these things in mind, wouldn’t it best serve the Order to make observations from a less assuming, perhaps even neutral, position?”
Swallowing, Father Conroy said, “Well, perhaps.”
“Good,” Father Murray said. “I’m sure Bishop Avery and the Grand Inquisitor would both be reassured by your devotion to accuracy.”
Father Conroy nodded and returned to his work with an altered attitude. As Liam was weighed and measured in more ways than he thought necessary, Father Conroy filled in several pages of forms and charts. When that was done he picked up an empty syringe and said he needed to collect a blood sample. Liam looked once more to Father Murray who nodded encouragement.
Liam sighed and gave the Inquisitor his left arm. The man gazed down at Liam’s inner elbow and paused.
“You’ve scar tissue here.”
“Aye. A fucking Peeler got fucking careless with his fucking questions,” Liam said. “What the fuck does it matter to you?”
“May I have the other arm?”
Liam gave Father Conroy his right arm and gritted his teeth. Father Conroy took the blood sample, taped the puncture wound, gathered his paperwork and left.
Slipping into his jeans, Liam said, “Thanks.”
“For what?” Father Murray asked.
“For taking a stand with that fuck. But what I don’t understand is why he took a tongue lashing from you?”
“I reminded him that while he may be an Inquisitor, I am a Guardian. Which means that it is not only my
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