Speaker for the Dead

your mother," Ender said.
      Miro's relief was almost palpable, though he made no obvious gesture. "She's at work," he said. "She works late. She's trying to develop a strain of potato that can compete with the grass here."
      "Like the amaranth?"
      He grinned. "You already heard about that? No, we don't want it to be as good a competitor as that . But the diet here is limited, and potatoes would be a nice addition. Besides, amaranth doesn't ferment into a very good beverage. The miners and farmers have already created a mythology of vodka that makes it the queen of distilled intoxicants."
      Miro's smile came to this house like sunlight through a crevice in a cave. Ender could feel the loosening of tensions. Quara wiggled her leg back and forth like an ordinary little girl. Olhado had a stupidly happy expression on his face, his eyes half-closed so that the metallic sheen was not so monstrously obvious. Ela's smile was broader than Miro's good humor should have earned. Even Grego had relaxed, had stopped straining against Ender's grip.
      Then a sudden warmth on Ender's lap told him that Grego, at least, was far from surrender. Ender had trained himself not to respond reflexively to an enemy's actions until he had consciously decided to let his reflexes rule. So Grego's flood of urine did not cause him to so much as flinch. He knew what Grego had been expecting-- a shout of anger, and Ender flinging him away, casting him from his lap in disgust. Then Grego would be free-- it would be a triumph. Ender yielded him no victory.
      Ela, however, apparently knew the expressions of Grego's face. Her eyes went wide, and then she took an angry step toward the boy. "Grego, you impossible little--"
      But Ender winked at her and smiled, freezing her in place. "Grego has given me a little gift. It's the only thing he has to give me, and he made it himself, so it means all the more. I like him so much that I think I'll never let him go."
      Grego snarled and struggled again, madly, to break free.
      "Why are you doing this!" said Ela.
      "He's expecting Grego to act like a human being," said Miro. "It needs doing, and nobody else has bothered to try."
      " I've tried," said Ela.
      Olhado spoke up from his place on the floor. "Ela's the only one here who keeps us civilized."
      Quim shouted from the other room. "Don't you tell that bastard anything about our family!"
      Ender nodded gravely, as if Quim had offered a brilliant intellectual proposition. Miro chuckled and Ela rolled her eyes and sat down on the bed beside Quara.
      "We're not a very happy home," said Miro.
      "I understand," said Ender. "With your father so recently dead."
      Miro smiled sardonically. Olhado spoke up, again. "With Father so recently alive, you mean."
      Ela and Miro were in obvious agreement with this sentiment. But Quim shouted again. "Don't tell him anything!"
      "Did he hurt you?" Ender asked quietly. He did not move, even though Grego's urine was getting cold and rank.
      Ela answered. "He didn't hit us, if that's what you mean."
      But for Miro, things had gone too far. "Quim's right," said Miro. "It's nobody's business but ours."
      "No," said Ela. "It's his business."
        "How is it his business?" asked Miro.
      "Because he's here to Speak Father's death," said Ela.
      "Father's death!" said Olhado. "Chupa pedras! Father only died three weeks ago!"
      "I was already on my way to Speak another death," said Ender. "But someone did call for a Speaker for your father's death, and so I'll Speak for him."
      "Against him," said Ela.
      "For him," said Ender.
      "I brought you here to tell the truth," she said bitterly, "and all the truth about Father is against him."
      Silence pressed to the corners of the room, holding them all still, until Quim walked slowly through the doorway. He looked only at Ela. "You called him," he said softly. "You."
      "To tell the truth!" she answered. His accusation obviously stung her; he did not have to say how she had betrayed her family and her church to bring this infidel to lay bare what had been so long concealed. "Everybody in Milagre is so kind and understanding," she said. "Our teachers overlook little things like Grego's thievery and Quara's silence. Never mind that she hasn't said a word in school, ever! Everybody pretends that we're just ordinary children-- the grandchildren of Os Venerados, and so brilliant, aren't we, with a Zenador and both biologistas in the family!