Xenocide (Ender Wiggins Saga)

Quim?"
    "Sure," said Quim. "A hostile, bitter, self-pitying, abusive, miserable, useless asshole who has far too high an opinion of the importance of his own suffering."
    It was more than Miro could bear. He screamed in fury and threw himself at Quim, knocking him to the ground. Of course Miro lost his own balance and fell on top of his brother, then got tangled in Quim's robes. But that was all right; Miro wasn't trying to get up, he was trying to beat some pain into Quim, as if by doing that he would remove some from himself.
    After only a few blows, though, Miro stopped hitting Quim and collapsed in tears, weeping on his brother's chest. After a moment he felt Quim's arms around him. Heard Quim's soft voice, intoning a prayer.
    " Pai Nosso, que estás no céu. " From there, however, the incantation stopped and the words turned new and therefore real. " O teu filho está com dor, o meu irmao precisa a resurreição da alma, ele merece o refresco da esperança. "
    Hearing Quim give voice to Miro's pain, to his outrageous demands, made Miro ashamed again. Why should Miro imagine that he deserved new hope? How could he dare to demand that Quim pray for a miracle for him, for his body to be made whole? It was unfair, Miro knew, to put Quim's faith on the line for a self-pitying unbeliever like him.
    But the prayer went on. " Ele deu tudo aos pequeninos, e tu nos disseste, Salvador, que qualquer coisa que fazemos a estes pequeninos, fazemos a ti. "
    Miro wanted to interrupt. If I gave all to the pequeninos, I did it for them, not for myself. But Quim's words held him silent: You told us, Savior, that whatever we do to these little ones, we do to you. It was as if Quim were demanding that God hold up his end of a bargain. It was a strange sort of relationship that Quim must have with God, as if he had a right to call God to account.
    " Ele não é como Jó, perfeito na coração. "
    No, I'm not as perfect as Job. But I've lost everything, just as Job did. Another man fathered my children on the woman who should have been my wife. Others have accomplished my accomplishments. And where Job had boils, I have this lurching half-paralysis-- would Job trade with me?
    " Restabeleçe ele como restabeleceste Jó. Em nome do Pai, e do Filho, e do Espirito Santo. Amem. " Restore him as you restored Job.
    Miro felt his brother's arms release him, and as if it were those arms, not gravity, that held him on his brother's chest, Miro rose up at once and stood looking down on his brother. A bruise was growing on Quim's cheek. His lip was bleeding.
    "I hurt you," said Miro. "I'm sorry."
    "Yes," said Quim. "You did hurt me. And I hurt you. It's a popular pastime here. Help me up."
    For a moment, just one fleeting moment, Miro forgot that he was crippled, that he could barely maintain his balance himself. For just that moment he began to reach out a hand to his brother. But then he staggered as his balance slipped, and he remembered. "I can't," he said.
    "Oh, shut up about being crippled and give me a hand."
    So Miro positioned his legs far apart and bent down over his brother. His younger brother, who now was nearly three decades his senior, and older still in wisdom and compassion. Miro reached out his hand. Quim gripped it, and with Miro's help rose up from the ground. The effort was exhausting for Miro; he hadn't the strength for this, and Quim wasn't faking it, he was relying on Miro to lift him. They ended up facing each other, shoulder to shoulder, hands still together.
    "You're a good priest," said Miro.
    "Yeah," said Quim. "And if I ever need a sparring partner, you'll get a call."
    "Will God answer your prayer?"
    "Of course. God answers all prayers."
    It took only a moment for Miro to realize what Quim meant. "I mean, will he say yes ."
    "Ah. That's the part I'm never sure about. Tell me later if he did."
    Quim walked-- rather stiffly, limping-- to the tree. He bent over and picked up a couple of talking sticks from the ground.
    "What are you talking to Rooter about?"
    "He sent word that I need to talk to him. There's some kind of heresy in one of the forests a long way from here."
    "You convert them and then they go crazy, huh?" said Miro.
    "No, actually," said Quim. "This is a group that I never preached to. The fathertrees all talk to each other, so the ideas of Christianity are already everywhere in the world. As usual, heresy seems to spread faster than truth. And Rooter's feeling guilty because it's based on a speculation