upon him.
Unlike the civilians, the military POWs hadn't been segregated by sex. He didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad, but as he'd told the others, if they'd meant to shoot them all, they could've done it on New Lerwick instead of shipping them clear across the Sea of Forth.
He lowered his eyes to Caitrin MacDougall's shoulders as she trudged along in front of him and tried to believe it himself.
* * *
"Welcome, Your Grace." Father Waman bent to kiss Tanuk's ring.
"Thank you, Father, but let us waste no time on ceremony. We have much to do in Holy Terra's service."
"I've made a start, Your Grace, if you'd care to read my report . . . ?"
"A brief verbal summary will do for now." Tanuk waved the priest to a chair and settled back behind his own desk.
"Certainly, Your Grace. The leaders of the heresy have already been executed." Waman gestured distastefully. He'd been astounded by how stunned the infidel priests and government leaders had looked as they were lined up to be shot. The