"They were infants. Not a year old yet."
"But why our babies? Why would he steal them? Was he going to sell them for adoption? Was he . . ."
"Does it matter? None of his plans came to fruition," said Sister Carlotta. The nature of Volescu's experiments was a secret.
"What was the murderer's name?" asked Julian. Seeing her hesitation, he insisted. "His name is a matter of public record, is it not?"
"In the criminal courts of Rotterdam," said Sister Carlotta. "Volescu."
Julian reacted as if slapped--but immediately controlled himself. Elena did not see it.
He knows about his father's mistress, thought Sister Carlotta. He understands now what part of the motive had to be. The legitimate son's children were kidnapped by the bastard, experimented on, and eventually killed--and the legitimate son didn't find out about it for seven years. Whatever privations Volescu fancied that his fatherlessness had caused him, he had taken his vengeance. And for Julian, it also meant that his father's lusts had come back to cause this loss, this pain to Julian and his wife. The sins of the fathers are visited upon the children unto the third and fourth generation. . . .
But didn't the scripture say the third and fourth generation of them that hate me? Julian and Elena did not hate God. Nor did their innocent babies.
It makes no more sense than Herod's slaughter of the babes of Bethlehem. The only comfort was the trust that a merciful God caught up the spirits of the slain infants into his bosom, and that he brought comfort, eventually, to the parents' hearts.
"Please," said Sister Carlotta. "I cannot say you should not grieve for the children that you will never hold. But you can still rejoice in the child that you have."
"A million miles away!" cried Elena.
"I don't suppose . . . you don't happen to know if the Battle School ever lets a child come home for a visit," said Julian. "His name is Nikolai Delphiki. Surely under the circumstances . . ."
"I'm so sorry," said Sister Carlotta. Reminding them of the child they had was not such a good idea after all, when they did not, in fact, have him. "I'm sorry that my coming led to such terrible news for you."
"But you learned what you came to learn," said Julian.
"Yes," said Sister Carlotta.
Then Julian realized something, though he said not a word in front of his wife. "Will you want to return to the airport now?"
"Yes, the car is still waiting. Soldiers are much more patient than cab drivers."
"I'll walk you to the car," said Julian.
"No, Julian," said Elena, "don't leave me."
"Just for a few moments, my love. Even now, we don't forget courtesy." He held his wife for a long moment, then led Sister Carlotta to the door and opened it for her.
As they walked to the car, Julian spoke of what he had come to understand. "Since my father's bastard is already in prison, you did not come here because of his crime."
"No," she said.
"One of our children is still alive," he said.
"What I tell you now I should not tell, because it is not within my authority," said Sister Carlotta. "But my first allegiance is to God, not the I.F. If the twenty-two children who died at Volescu's hand were yours, then a twenty-third may be alive. It remains for genetic testing to be done."
"But we will not be told," said Julian.
"Not yet," said Sister Carlotta. "And not soon. Perhaps not ever. But if it is within my power, then a day will come when you will meet your second son."
"Is he . . . do you know him?"
"If it is your son," she said, "then yes, I know him. His life has been hard, but his heart is good, and he is such a boy as to make any father or mother proud. Please don't ask me more. I've already said too much."
"Do I tell this to my wife?" asked Julian. "What will be harder for her, to know or not know?"
"Women are not so different from men. You preferred to know."