"You don't know that," he said. Bull did. His head tipped toward Krem with that gentle grip. Memories of Seheron came unbidden. All the bodies, or what was left of him; the look on the faces of the men that found him. Take me to the Ben-Hassrath..

There were no re-educators here.

"If I don't go mad, then that means the Tal-Vashoth that I spent a decade hunting down might not have been either." What if they had just been trying to live, and picked poor ways to make their living? Bull tried to shake the thought off. Bull shook his head. "Who would I write to? You're here, Dorian is here. The Ben-Hassrath? What would that help, other than falling into old routines?" Old routines that meant reinforcing Hissrad.