Speaker for the dead

“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 forgetting,” said Ender, “is that I'm not here as a scientist to study them. I'm here as an ambassador to make a treaty with them.”

Just as quickly as they started, the wives fell silent. Shouter emerged from her house and walked to the middle of the clearing to stand very near to the huge central tree. She sang.

Human answered her– in Brothers' Language. Ouanda murmured a rough translation. “He's telling her what you said, about coming as equals.”

Again the wives erupted in cacophonous song.

“How do you think they'll respond?” asked Ela.

“How could I know?” asked Ouanda. “I've been here exactly as often as you.”

“I think they'll understand it and let me in on those terms,” said Ender.

“Why do you think that?” asked Ouanda.

“Because I came out of the sky. Because I'm the Speaker for the Dead.”

“Don't start thinking you're a great white god,” said Ouanda. “It usually doesn't work out very well.”

“I'm not Pizarro,” said Ender.

In his ear Jane murmured, “I'm begi

Ender smiled. It was good to hear Jane speak to him again, good to know he would have her help.

He realized that Mandachuva had been asking Ouanda a question, for now he heard her whispered answer. “He's listening to the jewel in his ear.”

“Is it the hive queen?” asked Mandachuva.

“No,” said Ouanda. “It's a…” She struggled to find a word. “It's a computer. A machine with a voice.”

“Can I have one?” asked Mandachuva.

“Someday,” Ender answered, saving Ouanda the trouble of trying to figure out how to answer.

The wives fell silent, and again Shouter's voice was alone. Immediately the males became agitated, bouncing up and down on their toes.

Jane whispered in his ear. “She's speaking Males' Language herself,” she said.

“Very great day,” said Arrow quietly. “The wives speaking Males' Language in this place. Never happened before.”

“She invites you to come in,” said Human. “As a sister to a brother she invites you.”

Immediately Ender walked into the clearing and approached her directly. Even though she was taller than the males, she was still a good fifty centimeters shorter than Ender, so he fell to his knees at once. They were eye to eye.

“I am grateful for your kindness to me,” said Ender.

“I could say that in Wives' Language,” Human said.

“Say it in your language anyway,” said Ender.

He did. Shouter reached out a hand and touched the smooth skin of his forehead, the rough stubble of his jaw; she pressed a finger against his lip, and he closed his eyes but did not flinch as she laid a delicate finger on his eyelid.

She spoke. “You are the holy Speaker?” translated Human. Jane corrected the translation. “He added the word holy.”

Ender looked Human in the eye. “I am not holy,” he said.

Human went rigid.

“Tell her.”

He was in turmoil for a moment; then he apparently decided that Ender was the less dangerous of the two. “She didn't say holy.”

“Tell me what she says, as exactly as you can,” said Ender.

“If you aren't holy,” said Human, “how did you know what she really said?”

“Please,” said Ender, “be truthful between her and me.”

"To you I'll be truthful," said Human. "But when I speak to her, it's my voice she hears saying your words. I have to say them– carefully. "

“Be truthful,” said Ender. “Don't be afraid. It's important that she knows exactly what I said. Tell her this. Say that I ask her to forgive you for speaking to her rudely, but I am a rude framling and you must say exactly what I say.”