med like a
nightmare, especially Shayan on the Papal Throne . . . Still, Jeshua
had said there was a purpose to it, and he'd outlined what sounded like
the only reasonable thing for her to do. She got up, but instead of
dressing--the message she'd been asked to pass along sounded like one
that shouldn't wait--she put on a robe and went to Odeon's room.

He'd apparently had a quieter night than she; when he called for her to
come in he was still in bed, stretched out in a way that reminded her
of a large and perfectly contented cat. "Join me?" he invited.

"Uh-huh." Cortin slipped the robe off and slid under the covers,
comforted by his warm strength. "I'm not sure how much help it was,
but I did have a visitor last night. He asked me to tell you it was
time to institute the Communion of Promise, and I got the impression he
meant today."

"Good--I've been waiting for word I could. What about what you wanted
to know?"

"I found out, sort of. He said I'm the Herald, 'in part'--I was too
chicken to ask what he meant by that--and that I shouldn't deny what
I'm being called, even if it's the Protector." Cortin shivered,
huddling against his chest. "I found out a couple of other things,
too. You know the Protector could be a woman? And that Pope Lucius is
Shayan, and you and Sis're the Protector's version of a Pope?"

"The last I'd guessed, the rest I knew, yes."

"And that we're on our own now?"

"I thought that was getting close." Odeon kissed her, holding her
snugly and stroking her back. "We need two more people, Ivan says,
then we'll be in position to hold the fort till the Protector's ready
to surface. I expect Betty'll be one of them, but I don't think we've
met the other yet."

To her surprise, Cortin found herself becoming aroused. That didn't
seem possible, much less appropriate, after her vision--but it was
happening. "Mike--"

"What better way to put what you've just been through into perspective?
It took a shelter party to straighten Sis and me out, but I don't think
you need anything that extreme." He raised himself as if to get out of
bed. "Of course, if you think otherwise . . ."

"I don't, even if a shelter party does sound nice." Cortin shook her
head, bewildered. "Shouldn't we be getting ready for Mass, though?"

"Is it your conscience or habit asking that?" Odeon stroked her hair,
then caressed a breast. "Trust your feelings, Joanie. You can't sin,
remember?"

"I reme