Cortin prayed harder than she could remember ever having done before,
resting her hands on Odeon's forehead and chest, trying to give him her
own strength in case the Protector didn't see fit to intervene. Mike
had been hurt doing the Protector's work; if there was any justice at
all, He should at least give Mike back the strength he'd spent on His
behalf!
Apparently He agreed, Cortin thought as she felt her hands grow warm.
It was a peculiar sensation, as if she were absorbing energy through
every pore of her body, channeling it, and pushing it into Odeon. His
color improved and he grew visibly stronger, until he seemed to be in a
natural sleep rather than a coma. At that point the power-flow
stopped; as she removed her hands, he opened his eyes.
When he did, his expression frightened her almost as much as his
weakness had. Granted that no one could face Shayan and come out of it
unchanged, Odeon looked . . . haunted. "Dave told us about it," she
said softly. "So you don't need to talk about it unless you want to."
Odeon sat up, putting his arms around his knees, looking away from her.
"I don't want to--but you deserve to know that I may not be much good
to you any more. I . . . I don't think I could go through that
again--I don't see how you and Sis can even consider facing him."
Cortin sat beside him, resting her hand on his shoulder. She'd
suffered the most physical damage, but it was obvious from Sis' and
Mike's reactions that she'd been spared Shannon/Shayan's worst torment:
he'd kept out of her mind! There was therapy, good therapy, for
physical rape; she didn't know of any at all for mental rape. They'd
do what they could for him, that went without saying, but she could
only hope that'd be enough. "We'll help you, Mike, all of us. And the
Protector loaned me some of His power to bring you out of the shock he
sent you into. Just remember what you told me: God will test us to our
utmost limits, but not beyond them. I know words aren't a lot of help
right now, but maybe the Family will be--if you feel up to it, we're
gathered in the common-room. Ivan's here too; I thought he might have
some ideas how to help you, and he's the one who suggested I might be
able to borrow some of the Protector's power."
Odeon didn't really feel like seeing anyone, or even moving--what he
did want was to crawl in a hole, pull it shut, and forget what had been
done to him. But he couldn't betray Joanie that way, or the rest of
the team and Family; reluctantly, he straightened and got out of bed.
"Okay . . . I'll be out as soon as I get dressed."
"I'll stay; you're in no condition to be left alone." Cortin grimaced.
"I remember how it was when I woke up a couple of times on the flight
to New Denver. The medics did their best, but I'd have given anything
for a familiar, friendly face. At that point I couldn't have handled
anything else, and I don't suppose you can, either--but at least you've
got the faces."
"Yeah." Odeon went into the bathroom, took some refuge in the routine
of getting ready for a new day. Joanie was right about one thing, at
least; he didn't feel able to handle much of anything, especially
intimacy of any sort. He wasn't at all sure he could manage to get
through his responsibilities as Team-Second and heir to High Teton,
though he'd have to try. He couldn't simply shrug off his duties just
because he felt like he'd been torn into contaminated shreds, however
much he might prefer to. Joanie'd put him back together, at least
enough to go through the motions, and he could trust God to keep
providing the support he needed to carry out his priestly functions.
As Shayan had said, the priest's character--or, in his case, feelings
of contamination--had no effect on the validity of the Sacraments.
When he and Cortin got to the common-room, it took an effort to let
himself be embraced and kissed; it was impossible to return either more
than perfunctorily, and he couldn't bring himself to touch Illyanov's
offered hand. Their understanding and sympathy helped, but he felt
distanced, remote--as if Shayan had stolen something in the process of
breaking him. He looked around at them, shook his head. "Sorry,
people. God willing, I'll get over this soon--but right now the only
thing that seems to have any meaning at all is that I . . . don't feel
like I'm worthy of you. Nothing else matters."
"Which is foolishness," Chang said. "Natural, after what you have been
through, but foolishness nonetheless. You will indeed get over it, as
Joan and I have. Soon, as you say, if the Protector sees fit to aid
you further--which would not surprise me, since He chose you as one of
His first two priests."
"In the meantime," Illyanov said, "I am intrigued by this ability
Shayan has given you to dissolve his compulsions. Does it apply only
to those he imposed on Miss Blackfeather, I wonder, or can you dissolve
any of them?"
The change of subject was a relief for Odeon. "I don't know," he said
thoughtfully. "Either way makes sense. He wouldn't want me dissolving
any except hers, but he probably only used one technique for all of
them, since he didn't know--then--that he'd be giving anyone the
ability to eliminate his tampering. We'll have to find out, when we
have someone else who's been conditioned."
"And I'm intrigued by what he called mental speech," Bain said. "His
touch wasn't exactly what I'd expected--more awesome than repulsive,
until he started working on Mike. And can you imagine how much more
convenient it'd be if we could communicate that way? Especially in
action?"
"He said if I survived, that would be just the first taste of mental
speech," Odeon said. "I don't know if he meant just me, or the Family,
or the Protector's Sealed--I wonder. Dave, do you think his using it
with the two of us could've sensitized us enough we could use it
without him?"
*I don't know,* Bain replied silently, *but it's worth trying. Can you
hear me?*
"No need to shout," Odeon said. "I heard you fine." He looked around
at the rest. "Anybody else pick it up?"