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conditions of deep emotional shock and horror.
    The Bench couldn’t pin a Langsarik crime on the settlement on the basis of this evidence. Feraltz knew Langsariks, had lived with Langsariks, and refused to say that they were Langsariks; but the strength of the evidence went both ways. Maybe he was protecting someone.
    And yet Garol couldn’t discount the implications.
    Maybe the raiders wore Langsarik colors in order to divert suspicion to a visible target in the event that they were seen. It would be a coup for Langsariks to manage a raid from quarantine; unfortunately, the Langsariks had proved — time and again — that they were capable of almost anything.
    And therefore maybe the raiders wore Langsarik colors because they were Langsariks, and that was the only clothing they had.
    That was the simplest — and therefore most obvious, if unlikely — explanation; and Garol did not look forward to taking this intelligence to Chilleau Judiciary.
    It was his duty. He didn’t have to like it.
    The only way he was going to be able to determine whether or not there was a problem with the amnesty agreement was to go to Port Charid and see for himself. If nothing else, the public-relations angle had to be carefully managed, and he could best decide how to handle that on-site.
    “Are you willing to do a pharmaceutical investigation?” Garol asked, because he had a duty to ask. Sometimes the right drugs could pull up a previously un-retrieved detail from memory; but drugs were also frequently responsible for the spontaneous generation of false memories, or for complete misinterpretation of imperfectly understood information.
    It took a real expert to hope to tell the difference, especially in circumstances where the subject witness might have ulterior motives that affected what and how much he remembered.
    Garol wasn’t particularly interested in risking the survival of the Langsarik settlement on a point of interpretation; so he was just as glad when Feraltz shook his head, rejecting the suggestion. Reluctantly. But absolutely.
    “I’m sworn to Abstain, Bench specialist, and it’s hard enough that I have to take all of this medicine, even though the priest insists on it. I’ll do a drug inquiry if you come back with an Ecclesiastical Exception, of course I will. But I really don’t want to. I’m sure I’ve already told you everything I remember.”
    The Dolgorukij church administration would make allowances for the requirements of Bench process, even for zealots like Abstainers. But zealots hated to compromise, on Ecclesiastical Exception or any other grounds. This young man had already suffered; Garol was quite willing to forgo a step that might only produce ambiguous or flawed evidence for which there was no pressing immediate need — at least for the time being.
    If there were problems on Charid, he would find out about them his own way; too much potentially ambiguous information too soon would only seriously constrain his freedom of action.
    “Let’s not worry about that for now. Time enough later if we need corroborative evidence,” Garol reassured Feraltz, who seemed to relax gratefully. “I’ll be going, Feraltz. Thanks. for your time. And keep up with your therapy. It’s the best thing for a complete recovery.”
    He should talk.
    But maybe giving lip service to the acknowledged but disregarded truth would balance out his own personal and admittedly flamboyant disobedience of doctor’s orders, and help even everything out in the end.
    He was going to have to go to Chilleau Judiciary and talk to the Second Judge’s First Secretary, Sindha Verlaine; that could be as unpleasant as rehabilitation therapy, so maybe that would count on the credit side of his personal register, too.
    It was worth hoping for.
    Garol set his mind firmly on that encouraging but unlikely idea and left Feraltz to exercise in peace.

    ###

    Kazmer Daigule strolled casually through the narrow lanes of Port Charid’s warehouse