*I understand.* The man was nervous—naturally enough, Medart thought—but there was a basic stability to him the Ranger liked. *Do what you have to—and God bless you for helping.*
*Thank you.* With that Medart went deeper, scanning memories until he found the relevant set. They were as nasty as he'd expected, and he didn't like the idea of experiencing them, but to accomplish his objective, he didn't have any choice. He "reached" for them.
Cortin watched with interest but no understanding as the Ranger closed his eyes and sat silent for several seconds. Then he shuddered, tensing, and she watched sweat stains appear and grow on his uniform. By the time he opened his eyes again, almost half an hour later, he was soaked and looked exhausted. She wanted to ask about her prisoner, but instead said, "Are you all right?"
"I will be after a bath and nap," Medart replied. "Reading minds, except for the simplest communication link, isn't like reading a book; on any deeper level, you share the other person's thoughts—and feelings. This is my third time at that level, and by far the worst." He stood, moving around to ease the kinks. "He's committed no crimes, Excellency, but he's damnsure been the victim of some. He's a small farmer; he and his family were sitting down to supper one evening when several men broke in. They restrained him while they killed his family, making sure he knew they were making it look like he'd done it. Then they changed to Enforcement Service uniforms and took him to an Inquisitor. The Inquisitor already had his report written; all he did was cut out Shelton's tongue and beat on him to make it look like he'd resisted interrogation. When that was over, the phony troopers took him to a judge, who sentenced him to you. The rest you know."
Cortin didn't even try to hide her cold anger. "I'll need more details, of course, but that's enough to let me get started. Did you happen to check on whether he was given the Sacraments?"
"Sorry, that didn't occur to me." Medart sent a quick thought. *Were you?*
*By the Brotherhood?* Shelton's thought was bitter. *No, and I need them—if you'll help me with Confession?*
"I'm Omnist, not Catholic," Medart cautioned aloud. "I'll relay if you want, though, and anything you say will be treated as Empire Secret."
*Please.* Shelton's thought held a trace of wan humor. *You have some of my memories; why should I mind you reporting some of my sins?*
Medart managed a chuckle. "Put that way, no reason."