"Thanks." Cortin tested the water temperature in the vestry's small sink, then began washing blood off her arms. The wounds on her wrists were as painless as she'd been promised, and looked freshly healed, though she was certain they'd be open again every time she said Mass. "Word of these and the Communion of Promise should reach Rome in three or four hours, which means Pope Lucius will guess—or know—I'm the Herald. He'll have to take some sort of action, even if it's not a direct physical assault." She turned to Odeon, her expression grim. "Much as I don't want it to, Mike, I'm afraid this is going to tear the Church apart."
"So did the Great Revival, back in the 1500s," Odeon said. "It came out of that stronger and healthier than ever—it'll do the same this time, if the Protector wins."
"And if not, Shayan destroys humanity, at least in the Kingdoms."
Being acknowledged as the Protector's Herald—even "in part," whatever that meant; she still wasn't sure she wanted to know—was a relief, Cortin decided. At least also "in part", since she hadn't wanted that kind of responsibility and wasn't at all sure she was up to it—but if nothing else, it did explain why so many things had happened to her so fast. She'd do her best to live up to the position she'd been given, whatever her doubts; as Mike had said, God would test you to the absolute limits of your endurance, but not beyond them.
And she had help. Not only the Sealed ones, but civilians, which had been proven over the last week of getting ready for the Bains, especially the children. She'd expected help from the team and servants; it had astonished her to have the ladies from the New Eden joyhouse show up, several with children, to make the third floor—to quote Madame Bernadette—"a proper place to raise healthy, happy children."
Since the children who'd come along were obviously both, Cortin wasn't at all reluctant to defer to someone who clearly knew what she was doing. While they worked, Cortin got to know several of the ladies, discovering that their enthusiasm for the new family structure shouldn't have surprised her; in spite of the fact they were paid for sex, what they had was more like a Family than she would have thought possible. Most of the men were regulars, and it was common for them to visit for other than the obvious reason—mostly to play with the children. Many contributed to their support, some quite generously. And it wasn't unusual for working wives to board their children at the New Eden during the day. After all, as one of the ladies pointed out, where else would they get more adult supervision? Or, with so many Enforcement troopers as clients and supporters, better protection?
Cortin had to agree. She still hadn't been able to work out a way to provide for unmarried women who wanted—or had—children; the Families were almost certain to face enough popular resistance without their main proponent advocating the legitimizing of prostitution as well. In spite of that, she had to agree there was considerable validity to the ladies' arguments that they performed a public service and should have the same sort of dispensation Enforcement did. Before the satyr virus' appearance, she might not have thought that way; since it was a fact, it had to be considered, and there were times people would be away from even a large Family. Something would have to be done to accommodate them, male and female both. That would have to wait, though; establishing the Families had to come first.
In the meantime, she extended a standing invitation to the New Eden ladies: they would be welcome at Harmony Lodge, with or without their children, whenever they cared to visit. Prostitutes were becoming more respectable; having the High King's Inquisitor/Protector's Herald welcome them shouldn't hurt the process.
Despite the help, though, she was keyed up when the Family gathered in the downstairs ballroom after Mass to wait for the Bains' arrival. There was no reason for her apprehension, she kept telling herself; she'd never had any trouble making friends with children or animals, and Betty had been married to an Inquisitor's brother; she wouldn't be afraid of one, and the children were too young to have any real idea what an Inquisitor was. Her position as Herald wasn't anything to frighten them, either, and word of her stigmata had hit the news hours after they'd appeared; even those wouldn't come as a surprise. So what in the Protector's Name did she have to be worried about?