Speaker for the Dead

call her Shouter. But never where a wife can hear."
      The female looked at them, and then sang-- there was no other way to describe the mellifluous flow of her voice-- a sentence or two in Wives' Language.
      "It's for you to go," said Mandachuva. "Speaker. You."
      "Alone?" asked Ender. "I'd rather bring Ouanda and Ela with me."
      Mandachuva spoke loudly in Wives' Language; it sounded like gargling compared to the beauty of the female's voice. Shouter answered, again singing only briefly.
      "She says of course they can come," Mandachuva reported. "She says they're females, aren't they? She's not very sophisticated about the differences between humans and little ones."
      "One more thing," said Ender. "At least one of you, as an interpreter. Or can she speak Stark?"
      Mandachuva relayed Ender's request. The answer was brief, and Mandachuva didn't like it. He refused to translate it. It was Human who explained. "She says that you may have any interpreter you like, as long as it's me."
      "Then we'd like to have you as our interpreter," said Ender.
      "You must enter the birthing place first," said Human. "You are the invited one."
      Ender stepped out into the open and strode into the moonlight. He could hear Ela and Ouanda following him, and Human padding along behind. Now he could see that Shouter was not the only female here. Several faces were in every doorway. "How many are there?" asked Ender.
      Human didn't answer. Ender turned to face him. "How many wives are there?" Ender repeated.
      Human still did not answer. Not until Shouter sang again, more loudly and commandingly. Only then did Human translate. "In the birthing place, Speaker, it is only to speak when a wife asks you a question."
      Ender nodded gravely, then walked back to where the other males waited at the edge of the clearing. Ouanda and Ela followed him. He could hear Shouter singing behind him, and now he understood why the males referred to her by that name-- her voice was enough to make the trees shake. Human caught up with Ender and tugged at his clothing. "She says why are you going, you haven't been given permission to go. Speaker, this is a very bad thing, she's very angry--"
      "Tell her that I did not come to give instructions or to receive instructions. If she won't treat me as an equal, I won't treat her as an equal."
      "I can't tell her that," said Human.
      "Then she'll always wonder why I left, won't she?"
      "This is a great honor, to be called among the wives!"
      "It is also a great honor for the Speaker of the Dead to come and visit them."
      Human stood still for a few moments, rigid with anxiety. Then he turned and spoke to Shouter.
      She in turn fell silent. There was not a sound in the glen.
      "I hope you know what you're doing, Speaker," murmured Ouanda.
      "I'm improvising," said Ender. "How do you think it's going?"
      She didn't answer.
      Shouter went back into the large log house. Ender turned around and again headed for the forest. Almost immediately Shouter's voice rang out again.
      "She commands you to wait," said Human.
      Ender did not break stride, and in a moment he was on the other side of the piggy males. "If she asks me to return, I may come back. But you must tell her, Human, that I did not come to command or to be commanded."
      "I can't say that," said Human.
      "Why not?" asked Ender.
      "Let me," said Ouanda. "Human, do you mean you can't say it because you're afraid, or because there are no words for it?"
      "No words. For a brother to speak to a wife about him commanding her, and her petitioning him, those words can't be said in that direction."
      Ouanda smiled at Ender. "Not mores, here, Speaker. Language."
      "Don't they understand your language, Human?" asked Ender.
      "Males' Language can't be spoken in the birthing place," said Human.
      "Tell her that my words can't be spoken in Wives' Language, but only in Males' Language, and tell her that I-- petition-- that you be allowed to translate my words in Males' Language."
      "You are a lot of trouble, Speaker," said Human. He turned and spoke again to Shouter.
      Suddenly the glen was full of the sound of Wives' Language, a dozen different songs, like a choir warming up.
      "Speaker," said Ouanda, "you have now violated just about every rule of good anthropological practice."
      "Which ones did I miss?"
      "The only one I can think of is that you haven't killed any of them yet."
      "What you're