“I'm not a tourist.” He didn't bother telling her his suspicion that it might not be pure coincidence, Congress noticing the Questionable Activities when Ender happened to be there. “Were you able to save any of your files?”

Bosquinha sighed. “By imposing on you, I'm afraid. I noticed that all your files were maintained by ansible, offworld. We sent our most crucial files as messages to you.”

Ender laughed. “Good, that's right, that was well done.”

“It doesn't matter. We can't get them back. Or, well, yes, we can, but they'll notice it at once and then you'll be in just as much trouble as the rest of us. And they'll wipe out everything then.”

“Unless you sever the ansible connection immediately after copying all my files to local memory.”

“Then we really would be in rebellion. And for what?”

“For the chance to make Lusitania the best and most important of the Hundred Worlds.”

Bosquinha laughed. “I think they'll regard us as important, but treason is hardly the way to be known as the best.”

“Please. Don't do anything. Don't arrest Miro and Ouanda. Wait for an hour and let me meet with you and anyone else who needs to be in on the decision.”

“The decision whether or not to rebel? I can't think why you should be in on that decision, Speaker.”

“You'll understand at the meeting. Please, this place is too important for the chance to he missed.”

“The chance for what?”

“To undo what Ender did in the Xenocide three thousand years ago.”

Bosquinha gave him a sharp-eyed look. “And here I thought you had just proved yourself to be nothing but a gossipmonger.”

She might have been joking. Or she might not. “If you think that what I just did was gossip-mongering, you're too stupid to lead this community in anything.” He smiled.

Bosquinha spread her hands and shrugged. «Pois ‚,» she said. Of course. What else?

“Will you have the meeting?”

“I'll call it. In the Bishop's chambers.”

Ender winced.

“The Bishop won't meet anywhere else,” she said, “and no decision to rebel will mean a thing if he doesn't agree to it.” Bosquinha laid her hand on his chest. “He may not even let you into the Cathedral. You are the infidel.”

“But you'll try.”

“I'll try because of what you did tonight. Only a wise man could see my people so clearly in so short a time. Only a ruthless one would say it all out loud. Your virtue and your flaw– we need them both.”

Bosquinha turned and hurried away. Ender knew that she did not, in her inmost heart, want to comply with Starways Congress. It had been too sudden, too severe; they had preempted her authority as if she were guilty of a crime. To give in smacked of confession, and she knew she had done nothing wrong. She wanted to resist, wanted to find some plausible way to slap back at Congress and tell them to wait, to be calm. Or, if necessary, to tell them to drop dead. But she wasn't a fool. She wouldn't do anything to resist them unless she knew it would work and knew it would benefit her people. She was a good Governor, Ender knew. She would gladly sacrifice her pride, her reputation, her future for her people's sake.

He was alone in the praqa. Everyone had gone while Bosquinha talked to him. Ender felt as an old soldier must feel, walking over placid fields at the site of a long-ago battle, hearing the echoes of the carnage in the breeze across the rustling grass.

“Don't let them sever the ansible connection.”

The voice in his ear startled him, but he knew it at once. “Jane,” he said.

“I can make them think you've cut off your ansible, but if you really do it then I won't be able to help you.”

“Jane,” he said, “you did this, didn't you! Why else would they notice what Libo and Miro and Ouanda have been doing if you didn't call it to their attention?”

She didn't answer.

“Jane, I'm sorry that I cut you off, I'll never–”

He knew she knew what he would say; he didn't have to finish sentences with her. But she didn't answer.

“I'll never turn off the–”

What good did it do to finish sentences that he knew she understood? She hadn't forgiven him yet, that was all, or she would already be answering, telling him to stop wasting her time. Yet he couldn't keep himself from trying one more time. “I missed you. Jane. I really missed you.”

Still she didn't answer. She had said what she had to say, to keep the ansible connection alive, and that was all. For now. Ender didn't mind waiting. It was enough to know that she was still there, listening. He wasn't alone. Ender was surprised to find tears on his cheeks. Tears of relief, he decided. Catharsis. A Speaking, a crisis, people's lives in tatters, the future of the colony in doubt. And I cry in relief because an overblown computer program is speaking to me again.

Ela was waiting for him in his little house. Her eyes were red from crying. “Hello,” she said.

“Did I do what you wanted?” he asked.

“I never guessed,” she said. “He wasn't our father. I should have known.”

“I can't think how you could have.”

"What have I done? Calling you here to Speak my father's– Marc o's– death. " She began weeping again. "Mother's secrets– I thought I knew what they were, I thought it was just her files– I thought she hated Libo. "

“All I did was open the windows and let in some air.”

“Tell that to Miro and Ouanda.”

“Think a moment, Ela. They would have found out eventually. The cruel thing was that they didn't know for so many years. Now that they have the truth, they can find their own way out.”

“Like Mother did? Only this time even worse than adultery?”

Ender touched her hair, smoothed it. She accepted his touch, his consolation. He couldn't remember if his father or mother had ever touched him with such a gesture. They must have. How else would he have learned it?

“Ela, will you help me?”

“Help you what? You've done your work, haven't you?”

“This has nothing to do with Speaking for the dead. I have to know, within the hour, how the Descolada works.”

“You'll have to ask Mother– she's the one who knows.”

“I don't think she'd be glad to see me tonight.”

“I'm supposed to ask her? Good evening, Mamae, you've just been revealed to all of Milagre as an adulteress who's been lying to your children all our lives. So if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to ask you a couple of science questions.”

“Ela, it's a matter of survival for Lusitania. Not to mention your brother Miro.” He reached over and turned to the terminal. “Log on,” he said.

She was puzzled, but she did it. The computer wouldn't recognize her name. “I've been taken off.” She looked at him in alarm. “Why?”

“It's not just you. It's everybody.”

“It isn't a breakdown,” she said. “Somebody stripped out the log-on file.”

“Starways Congress stripped all the local computer memory. Everything's gone. We're regarded as being in a state of rebellion. Miro and Ouanda are going to be arrested and sent to Trondheim for trial. Unless I can persuade the Bishop and Bosquinha to launch a real rebellion. Do you understand? If your mother doesn't tell you what I need to know, Miro and Ouanda will both be sent twenty-two lightyears away. The penalty for treason is death. But even going to the trial is as bad as life imprisonment. We'll all be dead or very very old before they get back.”

Ela looked blankly at the wall. “What do you need to know?”

"I need to know what the Committee will find when they open up her files. About how the Descolada works. "

“Yes,” said Ela. “For Miro's sake she'll do it.” She looked at him defiantly. “She does love us, you know. For one of her children, she'd talk to you herself.”

“Good,” said Ender. “It would be better if she came herself. To the Bishop's chambers, in an hour.”

“Yes,” said Ela. For a moment she sat still. Then a synapse connected somewhere, and she stood up and hurried toward the door.