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“They hunt?”

“Mostly they gather.”

“Where did Pipo and Libo die?”

Jane brightened a patch of grassy ground on the hillside leading up to the trees. A large tree grew in isolation nearby, with two smaller ones not far off.

“Those trees,” said Ender. “I don't remember any being so close in the holos I saw on Trondheim.”

“It's been twenty-two years. The big one is the tree the piggies planted in the corpse of the rebel called Rooter, who was executed before Pipo was murdered. The other two are more recent piggy executions.”

“I wish I knew why they plant trees for piggies, and not for humans.”

“The trees are sacred,” said Jane. “Pipo recorded that many of the trees in the forest are named. Libo speculated that they might be named for the dead.”

“And humans simply aren't part of the pattern of treeworship. Well, that's likely enough. Except that I've found that rituals and myths don't come from nowhere. There's usually some reason for it that's tied to the survival of the community.”

“Andrew Wiggin, anthropologist?”

“The proper study of mankind is man.”

“Go study some men, then, Ender. Novinha's family, for instance. By the way, the computer network has officially been barred from showing you where anybody lives.”

Ender grinned. “So Bosquinha isn't as friendly as she seems.”

“If you have to ask where people live, they'll know where you're going. If they don't want you to go there, no one will know where they live.”

“You can override their restriction, can't you?”

«I already have.» A light was blinking near the fence line, behind the observatory hill. It was as isolated a spot as was possible to find in Milagre. Few other houses had been built where the fence would be visible all the time. Ender wondered whether Novinha had chosen to live there to be near the fence or to be far from neighbors. Perhaps it had been Marc o's choice.

The nearest borough was Vila Atras, and then the borough called As Fabricas stretched down to the river. As the name implied, it consisted mostfy of small factories that worked the metals and plastics and processed the foods and fibers that Milagre used. A nice, tight, self-contained economy. And Novinha had chosen to live back behind everything, out of sight, invisible. It was Novinha who chose it, too, Ender was sure of that now. Wasn't it the pattern of her life? She had never belonged to Milagre. It was no accident that all three calls for a Speaker had come from her and her children. The very act of calling a Speaker was defiant, a sign that they did not think they belonged among the devout Catholics of Lusitania.

“Still,” said Ender, “I have to ask someone to lead me there. I shouldn't let them know right away that they can't hide any of their information from me.”

The map disappeared, and Jane's face appeared above the terminal. She had neglected to adjust for the greater size of this terminal, so that her head was many times human size. She was quite imposing. And her simulation was accurate right down to the pores on her face. “Actually, Andrew, it's me they can't hide anything from.”

Ender sighed. “You have a vested interest in this, Jane.”

“I know.” She winked. “But you don't.”

“Are you telling me you don't trust me?”

“You reek of impartiality and a sense of justice. But I'm human enough to want preferential treatment, Andrew.”

“Will you promise me one thing, at least?”

“Anything, my corpuscular friend.”

“When you decide to hide something from me, will you at least tell me that you aren't going to tell me?”

“This is getting way too deep for little old me.” She was a caricature of an overfeminine woman.

“Nothing is too deep for you, Jane. Do us both a favor. Don't cut me off at the knees.”

“While you're off with the Ribeira family, is there anything you'd like me to be doing?”

“Yes. Find every way in which the Ribeiras are significantly different from the rest of the people of Lusitania. And any points of conflict between them and the authorities.”

“You speak, and I obey.” She started to do her genie disappearing act.

“You maneuvered me here, Jane. Why are you trying to unnerve me?”

“I'm not. And I didn't.”

“I have a shortage of friends in this town.”

“You can trust me with your life.”

“It isn't my life I'm worried about.”

* * *

The praqa was filled with children playing football. Most of them were stunting, showing how long they could keep the ball in the air using only their feet and heads. Two of them, though, had a vicious duel going. The boy would kick the ball as hard as he could toward the girl, who stood not three meters away. She would stand and take the impact of the ball, not flinching no matter how hard it struck her. Then she would kick the ball back at him, and he would try not to flinch. A little girl was tending the ball, fetching it each time it rebounded from a victim.

Ender tried asking some of the boys if they knew where the Ribeira family's house was. Their answer was invariably a shrug; when he persisted some of them began moving away, and soon most of the children had retreated from the praqa. Ender wondered what the Bishop had told everybody about Speakers.

The duel, however, continued unabated. And now that the praqa was not so crowded, Ender saw that another child was involved, a boy of about twelve. He was not extraordinary from behind, but as Ender moved toward the middle of the praqa, he could see that there was something wrong with the boy's eyes. It took a moment, but then he understood. The boy had artificial eyes. Both looked shiny and metallic, but Ender knew how they worked. Only one eye was used for sight, but it took four separate visual scans and then separated the signals to feed true binocular vision to the brain. The other eye contained the power supply, the computer control, and the external interface. When he wanted to, he could record short sequences of vision in a limited photo memory, probably less than a trillion bits. The duelists were using him as their judge; if they disputed a point, he could replay the scene in slow motion and tell them what had happened.

The ball went straight for the boy's crotch. He winced elaborately, but the girl was not impressed. “He swiveled away, I saw his hips move!”

“Did not! You hurt me, I didn't dodge at all!”

“Reveja! Reveja!” They had been speaking Stark, but the girl now switched into Portuguese.

The boy with metal eyes showed no expression, but raised a hand to silence them. “Mudou,” he said with finality. He moved, Ender translated.

“Sabia!” I knew it!

“You liar, Olhado!”

The boy with metal eyes looked at him with disdain. “I never lie. I'll send you a dump of the scene if you want. In fact, I think I'll post it on the net so everybody can watch you dodge and then lie about it.”

“Mentiroso! Filho de punta! Fode-bode!”

Ender was pretty sure what the epithets meant, but the boy with metal eyes took it calmly.

“Da,” said the girl. “Da-me.” Give it here.

The boy furiously took off his ring and threw it on the ground at her feet. “Viada!” he said in a hoarse whisper. Then he took off running.

“Poltrao!” shouted the girl after him. Coward!

«C o!» shouted the boy, not even looking over his shoulder.

It was not the girl he was shouting at this time. She turned at once to look at the boy with metal eyes, who stiffened at the name. Almost at once the girl looked at the ground. The little one, who had been doing the ball-fetching, walked to the boy with metal eyes and whispered something. He looked up, noticing Ender for the first time.

The older girl was apologizing. “Desculpa, Olhado, nao queria que–”

“Nao ha problema, Michi.” He did not look at her.

The girl started to go on, but then she, too, noticed Ender and fell silent.