Speaker for the Dead

aghast. "You certainly get straight to the point, don't you?"
      But when Human translated Ender's words, Shouter immediately went to the tree, touched it, and began to sing.
      Now, gathered closer to the tree, they could see the mass of creatures squirming on the bark. Most of them were no more than four or five centimeters long. They looked vaguely fetal, though a thin haze of dark fur covered their pinkish bodies. Their eyes were open. They climbed over each other, struggling to win a place at one of the smears of drying dough that dotted the bark.
      "Amaranth mash," said Ouanda.
      "Babies," said Ela.
      "Not babies," said Human. "These are almost grown enough to walk."
      Ender stepped to the tree, reached out his hand. Shouter abruptly stopped her song. But Ender did not stop his movement. He touched his fingers to the bark near a young piggy. In its climbing, it touched him, climbed over his hand, clung to him. "Do you know this one by name?" asked Ender.
      Frightened, Human hastily translated. And gave back Shouter's answer. "That one is a brother of mine," he said. "He won't get a name until he can walk on two legs. His father is Rooter."
      "And his mother?" asked Ender.
      "Oh, the little mothers never have names," said Human.
      "Ask her."
      Human asked her. She answered. "She says his mother was very strong and very courageous. She made herself fat in bearing her five children." Human touched his forehead. "Five children is a very good number. And she was fat enough to feed them all."
      "Does his mother bring the mash that feeds him?"
      Human looked horrified. "Speaker, I can't say that. Not in any language."
      "Why not?"
      "I told you. She was fat enough to feed all five of her little ones. Put back that little brother, and let the wife sing to the tree."
      Ender put his hand near the trunk again and the little brother squirmed away. Shouter resumed her song. Ouanda glared at Ender for his impetuousness. But Ela seemed excited. "Don't you see? The newborns feed on their mother's body."
      Ender drew away, repelled.
      "How can you say that?" asked Ouanda.
      "Look at them squirming on the trees, just like little macios. They and the macios must have been competitors." Ela pointed toward a part of the tree unstained by amaranth mash. "The tree leaks sap. Here in the cracks. Back before the Descolada there must have been insects that fed on the sap, and the macios and the infant piggies competed to eat them. That's why the piggies were able to mingle their genetic molecules with these trees. Not only did the infants live here, the adults constantly had to climb the trees to keep the macios away. Even when there were plenty of other food sources, they were still tied to these trees throughout their life cycles. Long before they ever became trees."
      "We're studying piggy society," said Ouanda impatiently. "Not the distant evolutionary past."
      "I'm conducting delicate negotiations," said Ender. "So please be quiet and learn what you can without conducting a seminar."
      The singing reached a climax; a crack appeared in the side of the tree.
      "They're not going to knock down this tree for us, are they?" asked Ouanda, horrified.
      "She is asking the tree to open her heart." Human touched his forehead. "This is the mothertree, and it is the only one in all our forest. No harm may come to this tree, or all our children will come from other trees, and our fathers all will die."
      All the other wives' voices joined Shouter's now, and soon a hole gaped wide in the trunk of the mothertree. Immediately Ender moved to stand directly in front of the hole. It was too dark inside for him to see.
      Ela took her nightstick from her belt and held it out to him. Ouanda's hand flew out and seized Ela's wrist. "A machine!" she said. "You can't bring that here."
      Ender gently took the nightstick out of Ela's hand. "The fence is off," said Ender, "and we all can engage in Questionable Activities now." He pointed the barrel of the nightstick at the ground and pressed it on, then slid his finger quickly along the barrel to soften the light and spread it. The wives murmured, and Shouter touched Human on the belly.
      "I told them you could make little moons at night," he said. "I told them you carried them with you."
      "Will it hurt anything if I let this light into the heart of the mothertree?"
      Human asked Shouter, and Shouter reached for the nightstick. Then, holding it in