Sometimes it doesn’t take many nails to seal a coffin.

—Emperor Jules Corrino

Emperor Salvador Corrino did not like to witness torture, even when it was conducted on his behalf. He understood it was a necessary tool of state, but he preferred that it be done where he couldn’t see or hear the details. Results. All he wanted was results. Sometimes, though, he couldn’t avoid his obligations.

Dr. Zhoma lay in agony, strapped on a multifunction rack while one of the hooded “truth technicians” plied his shadowy trade. Ironically, the tall, thin man named Reeg Lemonis had learned his skills and adept understanding of the human body’s pain centers during several years in the Suk School’s specialized training division, Scalpel. At the moment, Salvador was sure the Suk administrator regretted that her school had produced such skilled graduates.

Because the Butlerians frowned on complex technology, Lemonis relied on tried-and-true devices. He had already used an extremities vice to crush two of Zhoma’s fingers. Now the man glanced up to acknowledge Emperor Salvador as he attached another clamp and a shock-pack to the doctor’s head.

Roderick stood beside the Emperor, also noticeably disturbed. Zhoma moaned and made incomprehensible sounds, only some of which were recognizable as words. She had endured a remarkable amount of pain before Lemonis produced any interesting results. Roderick had been sickened and fascinated by the process, but the truth technician had not inflicted genuine physical damage until she confessed her plot. After that, even Roderick had little sympathy for her.

Lemonis finished attaching the head clamp, checked the fitting, and looked up. “It’s shocking information, Sire. The good doctor has revealed some appalling secrets, financial improprieties and major fraud—and she’s confessed to murder.”

Salvador shot a quick glance at Roderick. “Murder? Who was the victim?”

The torturer had recorded the exact words, but he summarized. “She killed her predecessor at the school, Dr. Elo Bando. Injected him with dozens of lethal chemicals in his office, then used her position to cover up her crime and rule the death a suicide.”

Salvador blinked in surprise. “Poor Dr. Bando! She wanted his position badly enough to murder for it?” His stomach knotted, and he made a sound of disgust.

“Not … exactly, Sire. She claims he embezzled large sums of money from you and nearly bankrupted the Suk School. She also insists that he was fabricating many useless treatments for you and charging you outrageous amounts.”

Salvador’s skin felt hot, and his pulse raced. The pounding headache had returned, like something trying to break out from inside his skull. “It’s a lie—you need to use more enthusiastic methods to get to the bottom of this. She’s obviously trying to curry favor now, and she’ll make up any nonsense to stop the pain.”

Roderick’s look was unreadable. “In that case, brother, the rest of this interrogation is fruitless. Lemonis is a very competent Scalpel investigator.”

“Oh, she’s been telling the truth,” the pain technician said; he did not notice the Emperor’s embarrassment. “And she has more to tell us about the plot surrounding you, Sire. It shouldn’t take much longer until we know who put her up to it.”

As Lemonis moved on to his next phase, Roderick looked over at Salvador and said, “She is a Suk doctor, the administrator of the school … the person I picked to be your personal physician. I’m very sorry I let you down.”

“It’s not your fault—she’s clever and deceived us all,” Salvador said. “And you were the one who caught her.” Dr. Zhoma screamed. Salvador winced, waited for the interruption to end, and added, “I trust you completely.”

Less than an hour later, the torturer was satisfied that he had acquired all the available information. Dr. Zhoma lay broken but still alive as Lemonis presented his results to the Emperor. “This doctor has a high tolerance for pain. I have left her conscious so she can answer all your additional questions directly.”

Salvador felt queasy, looking down at all the blood and knowing he would never have survived half of what Zhoma had endured. Her eyes were desperate, her face bruised and bloodied. He leaned over her, breathing slowly in and out, and made his voice as deep and terrible as he could. “And what did you plan for me? Are you an assassin?”

“The Sisterhood…” she said. He couldn’t look at her bruised lips and smashed teeth; all the blood made him uncomfortable. “Breeding records … you must not have children. Tainted bloodline … They sent me to sterilize you.”

Salvador fumed. “Sterilize me? They want to destroy the Corrino line?”

“No … just yours. Roderick’s line should be the Corrino emperors.”

Prince Roderick’s brow furrowed in deep concern. “The Sisterhood is scheming against the Imperial throne?” He shot a glance at Salvador. “We need to get Anna away from them. We sent her there to keep her safe!”

But Zhoma wasn’t finished. What started out as a laugh turned into a cough. She seemed to feel a surge of defiant energy and she spoke with absolute clarity. “After seeing how the Butlerians have you under their thumb, I decided sterilizing you wasn’t good enough—you should be killed instead.” She slumped back onto the table. “You’re going to execute me anyway, so I’ll tell you what everyone is saying behind your back: Roderick would be the better leader, by far.”

*   *   *

WHEN THE TWO men returned to the Palace, after changing clothes to remove the sweat and bloodstains, they were surprised to encounter a somber, formal delegation from Rossak. Sister Dorotea, two other Sisters—and Anna.

“Well,” Salvador said, looking at his brother as they both stepped up onto the throne dais in the meeting hall, “I suppose that’s fortunate timing, now that we know what they’re really up to.”

Roderick, though, narrowed his eyes and regarded the delegation with concern. Anna looked confused and disoriented, physically unharmed, but … wrong, somehow, and very much changed.

Holding the young woman’s hand, Dorotea stepped forward and bowed. Her voice was soft and contrite. “Your Highness, a terrible tragedy has occurred.”

Roderick came forward quickly to grasp his sister’s arms, checking her to see what was wrong, but Anna didn’t even look at him; her eyes flicked back and forth, her gaze dancing to an unheard beat.

Salvador remained focused on Sister Dorotea. “Explain yourself—and understand that your life, and the fate of the entire Rossak school, will depend on your answer.”

“My answer is the truth and will not change, threat or no threat.” She did not remove her gaze from Salvador’s. “Long ago, our Reverend Mother Raquella survived an assassin’s poison by altering the biochemistry of her body. This transformation gave her access to intense control of every aspect of her body and unlocked a host of memories from past generations. She became our first Reverend Mother.”

Salvador was already growing impatient. “I want to know what you’ve done to my sister—not a history lesson on your order.”

Dorotea did not hurry her explanation. “For many years the Sisterhood has been trying to recreate that transformation, exposing volunteers to dangerous chemicals in hopes of finding the key. Virtually all the volunteers died in the attempt, but I recently became the first new Reverend Mother. Once the technique was proved, other Sisters also made the attempt, so that we now have more Reverend Mothers.”

Abruptly, Anna began rattling off words at a rapid clip; Salvador realized they were all the names of planets in the Imperium.

“Anna convinced herself that she was ready, though none of us believed so. She was impulsive, stole a dose of the drug, and consumed it before anyone could stop her. She lay in a coma for many days, but did not die. When she awakened, she was altered—as you see.” Dorotea’s voice remained remarkably steady. “But I don’t think she’s a Reverend Mother. She seems to be somewhere in between.”

Upset, Roderick demanded, “And with so many deaths from this drug, why wasn’t it guarded well enough to keep our sister away from it? You knew her emotional problems. That was why we sent her to the Sisterhood—for you to keep her safe.”

“Anna is extremely willful,” Dorotea said. “And smart.”

“Now I’m smarter,” Anna interrupted in a slurred voice. “There are people in my head, special instructors. Hear them.” She spewed out a jumble of sentences, words, and unintelligible sounds that made no sense, as if they poured out of a bowl in which they had been mixed. Her blue eyes were like glassy marbles, her expression vacant.

Dorotea looked worried. “In the process of becoming a Reverend Mother, a Sister taps into a vast reservoir of past female lives, a host of memories. Anna seems to have … partially succeeded.”

Abruptly, the young woman stopped her flow of disconnected words and said in her own familiar tone, “The voices are telling me to go away now. They don’t like me intruding on them, but it is too late. I’m already there.”

“Anna,” Roderick said, “would you like to sit and talk with me now, the way we used to? You’re home now, where it’s safe.”

She didn’t respond, gave no indication that she had heard him. Her eyes seemed to peer into a hidden, inner world.

One of the main doors swung open, and Lady Orenna came into the entrance hall, wearing a white-and-gold robe. “I just heard Anna’s come back to us.” She hurried to the stricken Princess. “Oh child, how are you?”

Anna seemed to hear her stepmother. Her face was a mask of sadness, as she looked at the older woman. “They hurt me.”

“Who hurt you?” Salvador asked, rising from his throne.

“The voices. They hurt me every time they talk … little needles of pain inside my brain.”

The Virgin Empress put her arm around Anna and drew her close. “Why don’t you stay in my quarters tonight, dear? I’ll take care of you. And tomorrow we’ll go inside that fogwood shrub you like so much.”

“I’d like that,” Anna said. “I’m home now.”

Emperor Salvador leveled a malevolent gaze at Dorotea and her two companions. “This is the second time the Sisterhood has failed me—in one day! I will shut down and scatter your entire school!”

Roderick touched his older brother’s arm discreetly. “But there’s more we need to know. Perhaps we should have further discussions about the proper response to this problem. A rash action now could have repercussions across the Imperium.”

Sister Dorotea astonished them by speaking up. “Emperor Salvador, I understand your anger. Much of the Sisterhood is corrupt and should be eliminated, but we can save the rest. Some, such as myself and my Reverend Mother companions, believe in a different sort of Sisterhood, one that furthers the noble purposes of the Imperium. It is time to remove the excesses, cauterize the wounds, and move forward along the appropriate path.”

Salvador made a rude snort. “I know all about your Sisterhood’s schemes, your breeding records, your plot to prevent me from having offspring! Fortunately, we caught your puppet, Dr. Zhoma, before she could sterilize me.”

Dorotea’s expression became puzzled. “I was not aware of that plan, but Dr. Zhoma was a protégée of the Reverend Mother’s. I do not know her well. However, I agree wholeheartedly, Sire—the Sisterhood’s breeding program is at the heart of their corruption. There are dark secrets among the Sisters of Rossak, but I implore you to keep in mind that some of us are reasonable and wish to work with you … for you, Sire. Some of us are loyal to the Imperium and to the cautious philosophy of the Butlerians.”

“How many are in your faction?” Roderick asked.

“We are a minority, but many of the new Reverend Mothers share my deep concerns.”

“‘Thou shalt not make a machine in the likeness of a human mind,’” said one of Dorotea’s companions, a diminutive woman with a rounded nose and a mole on her left cheek.

Salvador felt decidedly uncomfortable. “I have heard Manford Torondo quote that many times, but what does she mean here? What does that have to do with what happened to Anna?” The thought of Zhoma’s conspiracy hung fresh in his mind.

“Sister Gessie speaks of the most terrible thing the Sisterhood has done,” Dorotea said. “In their restricted caves, they use forbidden computers to maintain the disgusting breeding records. Even I am not allowed access to that part of our school, but I have seen the computers in my Other Memories.”

Roderick stiffened. “Thinking machines hidden inside the caves of Rossak?”

“What?” Salvador’s shout echoed in the vaulted entrance chamber.

“There is a rot at the core of the Sisterhood, but some of us do not find it acceptable. That is why I wanted to bring Anna back personally. I needed to speak with you, Sire, to inform you of this travesty. There needs to be a purging of the order, not a destruction—I would urge a course correction. I beg you not to punish our whole order for the actions of a corrupt few. Most of the Sisters do not know of this terrible crime, and they would join us, if given the opportunity.”

“And the illegal computers,” Roderick said, “you have proof? You can find them?”

“I am certain of it. We can enlist the aid of Manford Torondo—”

With an alarmed look, Salvador said, “No need to involve the Butlerians. The Imperium is my responsibility. I’ll send a military squad to take care of this.” He looked over at his brother, feeling pleased for the first time all day. “There, it’s decided.”