nor permitted to do anything else, since the alarm had not taken place on our post.
We stood like statues for several minutes. We could hear sounds of running feet and of challenges. The Officer of the Day ran past us into the Palace, buckling his corselet over his night clothes as he ran. I almost blasted him out of existence before he answered my challenge. Then the relief watch section swung past at double time with the relief warden at its head.
Gradually the excitement died away; the lights remained on but someone thought to shut off the alarm. Zeb ventured a whisper. "What in Sheol happened? Did you muff it?"
"Yes and no." I told him about the restless Sister.
"Hmmph! Well, son, this ought to teach you not to fool around with women when you are on duty."
"Confound it, I wasn't fooling with her. She just popped out of her cell."
"I didn't mean tonight," he said bleakly.
I shut up.
About half an hour later, long before the end of the watch, the relief section tramped back. Their warden halted them, our two reliefs fell out and we fell in the empty places. We marched back to the guardroom, stopping twice more on the way to drop reliefs and pick up men from our own section.
5
We were halted in the inner parade facing the guardroom door and left at attention. There we stood for fifty mortal minutes while the Officer of the Day strolled around and looked us over. Once a man in the rear rank shifted his weight. It would have gone unnoticed at dress parade, even in the presence of the Prophet, but tonight the Officer of the Day bawled him out at once and Captain van Eyck noted down his name.
Master Peter looked just as angry as his superior undoubtedly was. He passed out several more gigs, even stopped in front of me and told the guardroom orderly to put me down for "boots not properly shined"-which was a libel, unless I had scuffed them in my efforts. I dared not look down to see but stared him in the eye and said nothing, while he stared back coldly.
But his manner recalled to me Zeb's lecture about intrigue. Van Eyck's manner was perfectly that of a subordinate officer let down and shamed by his own men; how should I feel if I were in fact new-born innocent?
Angry, I decided-angry and self-righteous. Interested and stimulated by the excitement at first, then angry at being kept standing at attention like a plebe. They were trying to soften us up by the strained wait; how would I have felt about it, say two months ago? Smugly sure of my own virtue, it would have offended me and humiliated me-to be kept standing like a pariah waiting to whine for the privilege of a ration card-to be placed on the report like a cadet with soup on his jacket.
By the time the Commander of the Guard arrived almost an hour later I was white-lipped with anger. The process was synthetic but the emotion was real. I had never really liked our Commander anyway. He was a short supercilious little man with a cold eye and a way of looking through his junior officers instead of at them. Now he stood in front of us with his priest's robes thrown back over his shoulders and his thumbs caught in his sword belt.
He glared at us. "Heaven help me, Angels of the Lord indeed," he said softly into the dead silence-then barked, "Well?"
No one answered.
"Speak up!" he shouted. "Some one of you knows about this. Answer me! Or would you all rather face the Question?" A murmur ran down our ranks-but no one spoke.
He ran his eyes over us again. His eye caught mine and I stared back truculently. "Lyle!"
"Yes, reverend sir?"
"What do you know of this?"
"I know that I would like to sit down, reverend sir!"
He scowled at me, then his eye got a gleam of cold amusement. "Better to stand before me, my son, than to sit before the Inquisitor." But he passed on and heckled the man next tome.
He badgered us endlessly, but Zeb and I seemed to receive neither more nor less attention than the others. At last he seemed to give up and directed the Officer of the Day
We stood like statues for several minutes. We could hear sounds of running feet and of challenges. The Officer of the Day ran past us into the Palace, buckling his corselet over his night clothes as he ran. I almost blasted him out of existence before he answered my challenge. Then the relief watch section swung past at double time with the relief warden at its head.
Gradually the excitement died away; the lights remained on but someone thought to shut off the alarm. Zeb ventured a whisper. "What in Sheol happened? Did you muff it?"
"Yes and no." I told him about the restless Sister.
"Hmmph! Well, son, this ought to teach you not to fool around with women when you are on duty."
"Confound it, I wasn't fooling with her. She just popped out of her cell."
"I didn't mean tonight," he said bleakly.
I shut up.
About half an hour later, long before the end of the watch, the relief section tramped back. Their warden halted them, our two reliefs fell out and we fell in the empty places. We marched back to the guardroom, stopping twice more on the way to drop reliefs and pick up men from our own section.
5
We were halted in the inner parade facing the guardroom door and left at attention. There we stood for fifty mortal minutes while the Officer of the Day strolled around and looked us over. Once a man in the rear rank shifted his weight. It would have gone unnoticed at dress parade, even in the presence of the Prophet, but tonight the Officer of the Day bawled him out at once and Captain van Eyck noted down his name.
Master Peter looked just as angry as his superior undoubtedly was. He passed out several more gigs, even stopped in front of me and told the guardroom orderly to put me down for "boots not properly shined"-which was a libel, unless I had scuffed them in my efforts. I dared not look down to see but stared him in the eye and said nothing, while he stared back coldly.
But his manner recalled to me Zeb's lecture about intrigue. Van Eyck's manner was perfectly that of a subordinate officer let down and shamed by his own men; how should I feel if I were in fact new-born innocent?
Angry, I decided-angry and self-righteous. Interested and stimulated by the excitement at first, then angry at being kept standing at attention like a plebe. They were trying to soften us up by the strained wait; how would I have felt about it, say two months ago? Smugly sure of my own virtue, it would have offended me and humiliated me-to be kept standing like a pariah waiting to whine for the privilege of a ration card-to be placed on the report like a cadet with soup on his jacket.
By the time the Commander of the Guard arrived almost an hour later I was white-lipped with anger. The process was synthetic but the emotion was real. I had never really liked our Commander anyway. He was a short supercilious little man with a cold eye and a way of looking through his junior officers instead of at them. Now he stood in front of us with his priest's robes thrown back over his shoulders and his thumbs caught in his sword belt.
He glared at us. "Heaven help me, Angels of the Lord indeed," he said softly into the dead silence-then barked, "Well?"
No one answered.
"Speak up!" he shouted. "Some one of you knows about this. Answer me! Or would you all rather face the Question?" A murmur ran down our ranks-but no one spoke.
He ran his eyes over us again. His eye caught mine and I stared back truculently. "Lyle!"
"Yes, reverend sir?"
"What do you know of this?"
"I know that I would like to sit down, reverend sir!"
He scowled at me, then his eye got a gleam of cold amusement. "Better to stand before me, my son, than to sit before the Inquisitor." But he passed on and heckled the man next tome.
He badgered us endlessly, but Zeb and I seemed to receive neither more nor less attention than the others. At last he seemed to give up and directed the Officer of the Day
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