Speaker for the Dead

trembling hands, she sang softly and tilted it slightly so that a sliver of the light passed through the hole. Almost at once she recoiled and pointed the nightstick the other direction. "The brightness blinds them," Human said.
      In Ender's ear, Jane whispered, "The sound of her voice is echoing from the inside of the tree. When the light went in, the echo modulated, causing a high overtone and a shaping of the sound. The tree was answering, using the sound of Shouter's own voice."
      "Can you see?" Ender said softly.
      "Kneel down and get me close enough, and then move me across the opening. " Ender obeyed, letting his head move slowly in front of the hole, giving the jeweled ear a clear angle toward the interior. Jane described what she saw. Ender knelt there for a long time, not moving. Then he turned to the others. "The little mothers," said Ender. "There are little mothers in there, pregnant ones. Not more than four centimeters long. One of them is giving birth."
      "You see with your jewel?" asked Ela.
      Ouanda knelt beside him, trying to see inside and failing. "Incredible sexual dimorphism. The females come to sexual maturity in their infancy, give birth, and die." She asked Human, "All of these little ones on the outside of the tree, they're all brothers?"
      Human repeated the question to Shouter. The wife reached up to a place near the aperture in the trunk and took down one fairly large infant. She sang a few words of explanation. "That one is a young wife," Human translated. "She will join the other wives in caring for the children, when she's old enough."
      "Is there only one?" asked Ela.
      Ender shuddered and stood up. "That one is sterile, or else they never let her mate. She couldn't possibly have had children."
      "Why not?" asked Ouanda.
      "There's no birth canal," said Ender. "The babies eat their way out."
      Ouanda muttered a prayer.
      Ela, however, was more curious than ever. "Fascinating," she said. "But if they're so small, how do they mate?"
      "We carry them to the fathers, of course," said Human. "How do you think? The father's can't come here , can they?"
      "The fathers," said Ouanda. "That's what they call the most revered trees."
      "That's right," said Human. "The fathers are ripe on the bark. They put their dust on the bark, in the sap. We carry the little mother to the father the wives have chosen. She crawls on the bark, and the dust on the sap gets into her belly and fills it up with little ones."
      Ouanda wordlessly pointed to the small protuberances on Human's belly.
      "Yes," Human said. "These are the carries. The honored brother puts the little mother on one of his carries, and she holds very tight all the way to the father." He touched his belly. "It is the greatest joy we have in our second life. We would carry the little mothers every night if we could."
      Shouter sang, long and loud, and the hole in the mothertree began to close again.
      "All those females, all the little mothers," asked Ela. "Are they sentient?"
      It was a word that Human didn't know.
      "Are they awake?" asked Ender.
      "Of course," said Human.
      "What he means," explained Ouanda, "is can the little mothers think? Do they understand language?"
      "Them?" asked Human. "No, they're no smarter than the cabras. And only a little smarter than the macios. They only do three things. Eat, crawl, and cling to the carry. The ones on the outside of the tree, now-- they're beginning to learn. I can remember climbing on the face of the mothertree. So I had memory then. But I'm one of the very few that remember so far back."
      Tears came unbidden to Ouanda's eyes. "All the mothers, they're born, they mate, they give birth and die, all in their infancy. They never even know they were alive."
      "It's sexual dimorphism carried to a ridiculous extreme," said Ela. "The females reach sexual maturity early, but the males reach it late. It's ironic, isn't it, that the dominant female adults are all sterile. They govern the whole tribe, and yet their own genes can't be passed on--"
      "Ela," said Ouanda, "what if we could develop a way to let the little mothers bear their children without being devoured. A caesarean section. With a protein-rich nutrient substitute for the little mother's corpse. Could the females survive to adulthood?"
      Ela didn't have a chance to answer. Ender took them both by the arms and pulled them away. "How dare you!" he whispered. "What if they could find a