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"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."
Human rolled his eyes, but turned to Shouter and spoke.
She answered briefly. Human translated. "She says her head is not carved from merdona root. Of course she understands that."
"Tell her that we humans have never seen such a great tree before. Ask her to explain to us what she and the other wives do with this tree."
Ouanda was aghast. "You certainly get straight to the point, don't you?"
But when Human translated Ender's words, Shouter immediately went to the tree, touched it, and began to sing.
Now, gathered closer to the tree, they could see the mass of creatures squirming on the bark. Most of them were no more than four or five centimeters long. They looked vaguely fetal, though a thin haze of dark fur covered their pinkish bodies. Their eyes were open. They climbed over each other, struggling to win a place at one of the smears of drying dough that dotted the bark.
"Amaranth mash," said Ouanda.
"Babies," said Ela.
"Not babies," said Human. "These are almost grown enough to walk."
Ender stepped to the tree, reached out his hand. Shouter abruptly stopped her song. But Ender did not stop his movement. He touched his fingers to the bark near a young piggy. In its climbing, it touched him, climbed over his hand, clung to him. "Do you know this one by name?" asked Ender.
Frightened, Human hastily translated. And gave back Shouter's answer. "That one is a brother of mine," he said. "He won't get a name until he can walk on two legs. His father is Rooter."
"And his mother?" asked Ender.
"Oh, the little mothers never have names," said Human.
"Ask her."
Human asked her. She answered. "She says his mother was very strong and very courageous. She made herself fat in bearing her five children." Human touched his forehead. "Five children is a very good number. And she was fat enough to feed them all."
"Does his mother bring the mash that feeds him?"
Human looked horrified. "Speaker, I can't say that. Not in any language."
"Why not?"
"I told you. She was fat enough to feed all five of her little ones. Put back that little brother, and let the wife sing to the tree."
Ender put his hand near the trunk again and the little brother squirmed away. Shouter resumed her song. Ouanda glared at Ender for his impetuousness. But Ela seemed excited. "Don't you see? The newborns feed on their mother's body."
Ender drew away, repelled.
"How can you say that?" asked Ouanda.
