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 fi