“Pardon me for saying so, Sister, but I don’t think I could become a counselor.”
She ushered him into a calm, softly lit lobby with cream-colored walls, a white ceiling, and a light blue tile floor.
“Once you can shield yourself from others, you will only sense evil if you peek behind the curtain.”
“I understand that. I meant wanting to work with such beings. Aren’t you repulsed?”
“I was at first.” Amelia took him across the lobby and into a corridor pierced by eight pairs of doors on each side. It, too, was devoid of decorations. “But after meeting Erasmus, Shakib, and Marnix, I knew we could save these men and women from the darkness within them. Besides, advanced counselors must deal with the worst our species offers. Otherwise, we’re no good to anyone. Regular counselors can help normal people.”
She stopped at the second pair of doors and pointed at the one on the right.
“Observation room. There will always be two correctional officers watching us. If the prisoner becomes threatening, they will enter the interview room via a connecting door.”
“Does that happen often? I mean a prisoner becoming threatening?”
Amelia shook her head.
“No. The ones seeking our help are volunteers who hope counseling will allow them off Changu Island and, if not back to civilization, then at least the limited freedom of the low-security colonies on the atoll’s other islands. Attacking one of us would end that dream. But they are manipulative, almost reflexively so, and not shy about trying to play us.”
“Friar Rikkard gave me chapter and verse, Sister.”
“How are you now?”
Roget examined his inner self and grimaced. “I can still detect evil.”
“Don’t worry, it won’t twist your mind, though it will tire you out. With any luck, you’ll find ways of warding off those mental emanations by yourself quickly enough. After all, that’s why Sister Marta suggested you spend time with us.”
Amelia touched the door. It slid aside with a sigh, revealing a surprisingly informal day room with four comfortable looking chairs around a low table which bore a water jug and four cups. Roget noted the connecting door leading to the observation room and instinctively headed for one of the two chairs facing it. When he glanced at Amelia, he caught a glint of approval in her eyes as she took the other seat.
“Our subject for this session,” she said, making herself comfortable, “is Seled Hyson, fifty-two years old, born on Wyvern. She came to Lyonesse in Tanith along with others condemned to the imperial prison planet Parth.”
Roget nodded.
“I read the story of the 197th Battle Group’s trek and Jonas Morane’s work to create the republic.”
“Seled experienced a tough upbringing, filled with parental neglect, lack of restraint or suitable role models, and most importantly, in an environment which catered to her every whim. I also suspect there was a fair amount of abuse, though she won’t discuss it. Those factors, in conjunction with a predisposition for antisocial behavior, sent her down a dark path that ended with multiple murders. Interestingly, she was born into a family of senior imperial bureaucrats and enjoyed the advantages of an upper-class childhood. Yet, she is not a good person and will never become one. But Seled volunteered, and she is trying, if only to leave this compound, and we must work with volunteers. I’ll introduce you as my trainee. Please don’t speak a word during the session. Also, please keep your body language neutral and your face expressionless, no matter what you hear. It’s good training even if you don’t join the Order.”
“Yes, Sister.”
She pulled a communicator from the folds of her robe. “Sister Amelia and Trainee Stearn in Suite number three, ready for Seled Hyson.”
“On our way,” a male voice replied moments later.
“Thank you. Amelia, out.” The communicator vanished again. “Do you sense someone in the observation room?”
“No.”
“And you’d be right. Pay close attention to the moment that changes and let me know what you detect.”
“Is this part of my training?”
Amelia gave him a brief smile. “Call it curiosity. Since you felt evil before even coming face-to-face with a prisoner, I’m interested to see if you can sense the correctional officers.”
“Why?”
“Humor me, please.”
Almost a minute passed in silence, then Roget sensed the cloak of evil that weighed on him since entering the compound shimmer as if caught in a breeze. An enormous part of it darkened almost oppressively, and he immediately understood it was because Seled Hyson was near. But another, almost imperceptible part became brittle as it hardened.
“Is there an officer in the observation room?” He asked in a low voice.
She nodded. “Well done. You must describe—”
The hallway door opened, and a tall, slender woman wearing an orange one-piece garment and sandals entered. She had a narrow, deeply tanned face beneath short, off-white hair, a patrician nose framed by watchful brown eyes and thin, almost bloodless lips. Hyson didn’t appear particularly dangerous. One could still detect a woman of privilege and grace beneath the coarsening of years on Changu. But Roget couldn’t recognize a soul, malevolent or otherwise, peering back at him through those eyes, though he could almost see the aura of corruption enveloping her, and it squeezed his mind like a vise. A familiar migraine accompanied by nausea surged as he fought for self-control.
“Sister.” Hyson settled into one of the two chairs facing them and crossed her legs. Her pleasant, alto voice sounded slightly hoarse. “And who is your friend?”
“Stearn. He’s training under my guidance.”
“Is he now? How delightful to see a male face from the outside. You’re cute enough for my tastes, Sister, but I could use a bit of variety.” She gave Roget a feral smile, then blew him a kiss. “I wouldn’t mind training under you, handsome.”
When Roget didn’t react, let alone reply, a disappointed moue twisted her lips.
“Carved from stone, eh? Well, a hard man is good to find. How about it, Amelia? A little three-way play? I don’t mind the COs watching from next door.”
Amelia, who’d kept an equally expressionless face, waited for a few heartbeats after Hyson fell silent, then said, “Shall we pick up where we last left off, Seled?”
— 20 —
––––––––
When they walked away from the Supermax compound shortly before midday, Roget breathed a sigh of relief as the iron bands of the worst migraine he’d ever experienced evaporated in the warm sun.
“Any longer in there, and I would be on the verge of blowing my brains out. How can these people live inside their minds?”
“They do not hear their minds. Otherwise, madness would overcome them.”
“Do some reach that point, though?”
“Hear themselves? Yes, it happens. Eventually, the darkness within eats away at their soul. Their lives end prematurely. Most commit suicide in rather spectacular ways.” After a few more steps, she asked, “How did you notice the correctional officers?”
Roget thought about her question for several seconds, then said in a tentative voice, “When I sensed Seled’s approach, I also picked up something hard and brittle. It wasn’t so much the opposite of her mind as it was a wall built to block it out.”
“Nicely done.” Amelia gave him a smile of approval. “It takes a special person to become a correctional officer and walk among evil daily. Most of those who succeed do so because they instinctively close in on themselves and block out everything. That is the hard, brittle thing. The ones who can’t close in on themselves or find their shell cracking after years here move on to guard habitual criminals or leave the service altogether. They are, in a way, continual victims of the people imprisoned here, though neither inmates nor correctional officers know about it.”
; Roget made a face. “And another career choice struck from my list.”
“Once you learn to block out others, you won’t see or hear evil unless you look for it.”
“If I learn to speak no evil on top of that, can I audition for the role of the three wise monkeys?”
“You know about them? I’m impressed.”
He shrugged.
“It’s Marta’s doing. She introduced me to Mizaru, Kikazaru, and Iwazaru when we discussed the links between mind, speech, and action from the perspective of those with a well-developed sixth sense.”
They walked on in silence for a few minutes before Roget glanced at Amelia again.
“Did you ever discover people with antisocial personality disorder in your midst?”
“You mean among consecrated sisters or friars? Yes. Highly functioning psychopaths with a strong sixth sense, the sort who don’t suffer from criminal impulses. We don’t necessarily detect all of them, but those we identify invariably tell us they joined the Order because they wanted an environment that would make sure their lack of empathy didn’t take them down a grim path.”
“They recognize their condition. That’s fascinating.”
“We find those with a strong sixth sense have enough self-awareness to know they can’t differentiate between good and evil in the same way as normal humans. In response, they adapt by taking cues from religious or moral teachings and the people around them. They don’t care about others but made a conscious decision that they would do no harm. By living under the Order’s Rule and within a community where everyone engages in the same behaviors helps them achieve that goal. They integrate by mimicking those around them even though they don’t believe in the Almighty or the Void.”
“The human mind is an incredible thing.”
She nodded.
“I agree, which is why I’m training to become more than just a normal counselor. You could do so too if you join the Order.”
“One more question.” Roget halted as he chose his words. They were halfway between the priory and the maximum security compound, where administrative buildings and correctional officer lodgings lined the crushed coral streets. “Erasmus, Marnix, and Shakib were once like Seled Hyson. They no longer are since I don’t pick anything up when I’m around them. Not even the mental auras of normal people. Did this cure turn them from violent sociopaths into highly functioning psychopaths?”
Amelia studied him for a few heartbeats.
“I wasn’t involved in that project and never quite looked at it that way. But you could be right. Perhaps I will ask Sister Mirjam in private one day.”
**
“What did you think of Supermax?” Erasmus asked when Roget joined the postulants for lunch in the priory’s small dining hall.
The three were already halfway through their meals — soup and raw vegetables from the priory’s greenhouses.
Roget put down his tray and sat across from him.
“Terrifying is the first word that comes to mind. That’s a seriously bleak place. Gave me a massive headache, though it’s fading.”
Marnix snorted.
“And don’t we know it? Everyone there belongs in the Seventh Circle of Hell.” When Roget cocked an amused eyebrow at him, he frowned. “What? Did you think we weren’t getting the full classical education given to every postulant? Just because we were exiled for life and don’t have a normal friar’s talent? We can debate metaphysics and philosophy with you until the end of the universe, my friend.”
Roget raised his hands in surrender.
“Sorry, Marnix. I didn’t mean to offend you. After what I experienced this morning, I wasn’t expecting Dante’s Inferno, but I agree with you about the Seventh Circle of Hell. So how did the sisters cure you guys?”
“They peered deep into the Void where a normal person keeps his soul,” Erasmus replied, “and cauterized our psychological and spiritual wounds. I can’t describe it otherwise. After each session, a small part of the evil living within me was gone, along with the associated memories, until no trace of darkness remained. Sure, I lost a fair bit of myself in the process and often think I’m a hollow man, but for the first time since I can remember, I’m at peace.”
“Ditto.” Marnix and Shakib nodded in agreement.
Roget popped a baby carrot into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. After swallowing, he asked, “Why didn’t the sisters cure more of the Supermax prisoners? The difference between the ones I saw this morning and you three is incredible.”
“Only the sisters can answer that question, though I doubt they would, especially with an outsider. All I know is that the sisters vetted us thoroughly over several weeks before they offered us places in the experimental program. During the treatment, they kept us segregated from the rest of Supermax.” Erasmus gave Roget a humorless smile. “Apply to become a friar, and once you take your vows, join their counselor training program. Maybe they’ll let you in on the secret.”
“I’m not interested in working with deranged people. My tolerance for humans, in general, took another nosedive this morning. What’ll you guys do when you take vows?”
“Anything the Order needs. Since we don’t have a shred of talent, I suspect it’ll be manual labor in and around the priory.”
“Those who sweep floors and rake leaves also serve the Almighty’s purpose,” Marnix intoned with mock seriousness. “But that still beats spending the rest of our lives in Supermax surrounded by the most violent humans in the republic. You’re going back with Amelia tomorrow?”
Roget nodded.
“Yup. Until I can shut out those violent human minds.”
“Good luck staying sane.”
“Some of it is interesting.” Roget took a sip of his iced tea. “I didn’t believe until this morning that evil was an actual thing. The discovery is making me question a lot of my assumptions about life and the universe.”
“Aye.” Erasmus raised a water glass, as if in salute. “Take it from a former practitioner of evil. It’s too bloody real.”
“Tell me something.” Roget gave the man a speculative look. “You said the sisters cauterized your psychological and spiritual wounds bit by bit.”
“Sure. They burned out that which made us sociopaths.”
“But you still can’t experience empathy for others.”
Erasmus shook his head.
“No. Not a shred. Yet I’m not under a compulsion to harm others or fulfill evil ambitions. What I want, what we want, is to live a life of service and repay the Order that gave us peace.”
“Can you remember your thoughts before the cure?”
“No. We cannot even remember our crimes.”
“Do you remember your lives before the cure?”
The three men glanced at each other with an air of puzzlement on their faces.
“We remember a few things, but they’re rather vague. Does it matter? This is now our destiny, a second chance by the grace of the Almighty and the Brethren.”
“How do you know the Order gave you peace if you don’t remember your turmoil?”
Erasmus didn’t immediately reply as he cast about for an answer.
“I can sometimes glimpse a faint echo of my former madness. It reminds me of whence I came.”
For reasons he couldn’t explain, Roget knew with certainty Erasmus was telling the truth, though the man’s mind was a complete blank compared to Seled Hyson’s, as were those of the other two postulants.
**
“How did he do?” Mirjam gestured at the chairs in front of her desk when Amelia entered the prioress’ office.
“About as we expected. He’s recovering from what must be the worst migraine of his life and will probably spend the rest of the day sleeping. After witnessing Stearn’s distress, I think the shock treatment Marta envisioned might simply be too much for such a well-developed talent. If only he would join the Order so
we could use the teachings instead.”
“Stearn is far stronger than you give him credit. This morning was a shock because he could not conceive of sensing such violent chaos in others until encountering it for the first time.”
“He told me it changed his views on the existence of evil as an actual phenomenon.”
“As opposed to a social construct invented by the religious so they could condemn behavior they don’t like?” An air of amusement lit up Mirjam’s eyes. “Will he be a soul theorist or a more prosaic believer in twisted psyches?”
“We didn’t discuss the matter in any significant detail once he made the discovery.”
“It’ll be easier for him tomorrow now that he knows what to expect. We will continue the process as Marta directed.”
Amelia, hearing her superior and not her sister in the Order speak, lowered her gaze for a few seconds. “Yes, Prioress.”
“Now tell me about your progress with the prisoners. I’d like another two or three for the new treatment, including a woman if possible, and neither Mette nor Teresa can come up with likely candidates,” Mirjam said, naming two of the priory’s counselors. Both had worked on developing and implementing the treatment that cured Erasmus and his fellow prisoners.
A grimace briefly twisted Amelia’s face.
“Seled Hyson is the least damaged of the women I’m counseling. But she doesn’t strike me as the sort who would relinquish her memories of the past for a chance at becoming the priory’s indentured servant, which is all she would be since I’ve not sensed any sign of the talent. Seled’s goal is living in an exile colony on one of the other islands.”
Imperial Night (Ashes of Empire, #3) Page 14