Miro fell silent.

“It's the law,” said Ouanda quietly.

“The law has been twisted before this,” said Human. “You could bring him here, but you don't. Everything depends on you bringing him here. Rooter says the hive queen can't give us her gifts unless he comes.”

Miro quelled his impatience. The hive queen! Hadn't he told the piggies a dozen times that all the buggers were killed? And now the dead hive queen was talking to them as much as dead Rooter. The piggies would be much easier to deal with if they could stop getting orders from the dead.

“It's the law,” said Ouanda again. “If we even ask him to come, he might report us and we'd be sent away, we'd never come to you again.”

“He won't report you. He wants to come.”

“How do you know?”

“Rooter says.”

There were times that Miro wanted to chop down the totem tree that grew where Rooter had been killed. Maybe then they'd shut up about what Rooter says. But instead they'd probably name some other tree Rooter and be outraged as well. Don't even admit that you doubt their religion, that was a textbook rule; even offworld xenologers, even anthropologists knew that.

“Ask him,” said Human.

“Rooter?” asked Ouanda.

“He wouldn't speak to you,” said Human. Contemptuously? “Ask the Speaker whether he'll come or not.”

Miro waited for Ouanda to answer. She knew already what his answer would be. Hadn't they argued it out a dozen times in the last two days? He's a good man, said Miro. He's a fake, said Ouanda. He was good with the little ones, said Miro. So are child molesters, said Ouanda. I believe in him, said Miro. Then you're an idiot, said Ouanda. We can trust him, said Miro. He'll betray us, said Ouanda. And that was where it always ended.

But the piggies changed the equation. The piggies added great pressure on Miro's side. Usually when the piggies demanded the impossible he had helped her fend them off. But this was not impossible, he did not want them fended off, and so he said nothing. Press her, Human, because you're right and this time Ouanda must bend.

Feeling herself alone, knowing Miro would not help her, she gave a little ground. “Maybe if we only bring him as far as the edge of the forest.”

“Bring him here,” said Human.

“We can't,” she said. “Look at you. Wearing cloth. Making pots. Eating bread.”

Human smiled. “Yes,” he said. “All of that. Bring him here.”

“No,” said Ouanda.

Miro flinched, stopping himself from reaching out to her. It was the one thing they had never done– flatly denied a request. Always it was “We can't because” or “I wish we could.” But the single word of denial said to them, I will not. I, of myself, refuse.

Human's smile faded. “Pipo told us that women do not say. Pipo told us that human men and women decide together. So you can't say no unless he says no, too.” He looked at Miro. “Do you say no?”

Miro did not answer. He felt Ouanda's elbow touching him.

“You don't say nothing,” said Human. “You say yes or no.”

Still Miro didn't answer.

Some of the piggies around them stood up. Miro had no idea what they were doing, but the movement itself, with Miro's intransigent silence as a cue, seemed menacing. Ouanda, who would never be cowed by a threat to herself, bent to the implied threat to Miro. “He says yes,” she whispered.

“He says yes, but for you he stays silent. You say no, but you don't stay silent for him.” Human scooped thick mucus out of his mouth with one finger and flipped it onto the ground. “You are nothing.”

Human suddenly fell backward into a somersault, twisted in mid-movement, and came up with his back to them, walking away. Immediately the other piggies came to life, moving swiftly toward Human, who led them toward the forest edge farthest from Miro and Ouanda.

Human stopped abruptly. Another piggy, instead of following him, stood in front of him, blocking his way. It was Leaf-eater. If he or Human spoke, Miro could not hear them or see their mouths move. He did see, though, that Leaf-eater extended his hand to touch Human's belly. The hand stayed there a moment, then Leaf-eater whirled around and scampered off into the bushes like a youngling.

In a moment the other piggies were also gone.

“It was a battle,” said Miro. “Human and Leaf-eater. They're on opposite sides.”

“Of what?” said Ouanda.

“I wish I knew. But I can guess. If we bring the Speaker, Human wins. If we don't, Leaf-eater wins.”

“Wins what? Because if we bring the Speaker, he'll betray us, and then we all lose.”

“He won't betray us.”

“Why shouldn't he, if you'd betray me like that?”

Her voice was a lash, and he almost cried out from the sting of her words. “I betray you!” he whispered. “Eu nao. Jamais.” Not me. Never.

“Father always said, Be united in front of the piggies, never let them see you in disagreement, and you–”

“And I didn't say yes to them. You're the one who said no, you're the one who took a position that you knew I didn't agree with!”

“Then when we disagree, it's your job to–”

She stopped. She had only just realized what she was saying. But stopping did not undo what Miro knew she was going to say. It was his job to do what she said until she changed her mind. As if he were her apprentice. “And here I thought we were in this together.” He turned and walked away from her, into the forest, back toward Milagre.

“Miro,” she called after him. “Miro, I didn't mean that–”

He waited for her to catch up, then caught her by the arm and whispered fiercely, “Don't shout! Or don't you care whether the piggies hear us or not? Has the master Zenador decided that we can let them see everything now, even the master disciplining her apprentice?”

“I'm not the master, I–”

“That's right, you're not.” He turned away from her and started walking again.

“But Libo was my father, so of course I'm the–”

“Zenador by blood right,” he said. “Blood right, is that it? So what am I by blood right? A drunken wife-beating cretin?” He took her by the arms, gripping her cruelly. “Is that what you want me to be? A little copy of my paizinho?”

“Let go!”

He shoved her away. “Your apprentice thinks you were a fool today,” said Miro. “Your apprentice thinks you should have trusted his judgment of the Speaker, and your apprentice thinks you should have trusted his assessment of how serious the piggies were about this, because you were stupidly wrong about both matters, and you may just have cost Human his life.”

It was an unspeakable accusation, but it was exactly what they both feared, that Human would end up now as Rooter had, as others had over the years, disemboweled, with a seedling growing out of his corpse.

Miro knew he had spoken unfairly, knew that she would not be wrong to rage against him. He had no right to blame her when neither of them could possibly have known what the stakes might have been for Human until it was too late.

Ouanda did not rage, however. Instead, she calmed herself visibly, drawing even breaths and blanking her face. Miro followed her example and did the same. "What matters," said Ouanda, "is to make the best of it. The executions have always been at night. If we're to have a hope of vindicating Human, we have to get the Speaker here this afternoon, before dark. "

Miro nodded. “Yes,” he said. “And I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry too,” she said.

“Since we don't know what we're doing, it's nobody's fault when we do things wrong.”

“I only wish that I believed a right choice were possible.”

Ela sat on a rock and bathed her feet in the water while she waited for the Speaker for the Dead. The fence was only a few meters away, running along the top of the steel grillwork that blocked the people from swimming under it. As if anyone wanted to try. Most people in Milagre pretended the fence wasn't there. Never came near it. That was why she had asked the Speaker to meet her here. Even though the day was warm and school was out, children didn't swim here at Vila Ultima, where the fence came to the river and the forest came nearly to the fence. Only the soapmakers and potters and brickmakers came here, and they left again when the day's work was over. She could say what she had to say, without fear of anyone overhearing or interrupting.