It was Quim, obviously. His mission to the heretics—it was easy to understand what she feared, and even though Ender didn’t share the same fears, he knew that Quim’s journey was not without risk. Novinha was being irrational. How could Ender have stopped Quim? He was the one of Novinha’s children over whom Ender had almost no influence; they had come to a rapprochement a few years ago, but it was a declaration of peace between equals, nothing like the ur-fatherhood Ender had established with all the other children. If Novinha had not been able to persuade Quim to give up this mission, what more could Ender have accomplished?
Novinha probably knew this, intellectually. But like all other human beings, she did not always act according to her understanding. She had lost too many of the people that she loved; when she felt one more of them slipping away, her response was visceral, not intellectual. Ender had come into her life as a healer, a protector. It was his job to keep her from being afraid, and now she was afraid, and she was angry at him for having failed her.
However, after two days of silence Ender had had enough. This wasn’t a good time for there to be a barrier between him and Novinha. He knew—and so did Novinha—that Valentine’s coming might be a difficult time for them. He had so many old habits of communication with Valentine, so many connections with her, so many roads into her soul, that it was hard for him not to fall back into being the person he had been during the years—the millennia—they had spent together. They had experienced three thousand years of history as if seeing it through the same eyes. He had been with Novinha only thirty years. That was actually longer, in subjective time, than he had spent with Valentine, but it was so easy to slip back into his old role as Valentine’s brother, as Speaker to her Demosthenes.
Ender had expected Novinha to be jealous when Valentine came, and he was prepared for that. He had warned Valentine that there would probably be few opportunities for them to be together at first. And she, too, understood—Jakt had his worries, too, and both spouses would need reassurance. It was almost silly for Jakt and Novinha to be jealous of the bonds between brother and sister. There had never been the slightest hint of sexuality in Ender’s and Valentine’s relationship—anyone who understood them at all would laugh at any such notion—but it wasn’t sexual unfaithfulness that Novinha and Jakt were wary of. Nor was it the emotional bond they shared—Novinha had no reason to doubt Ender’s love and devotion to her, and Jakt could not have asked for more than Valentine offered him, both in passion and in trust.
It was deeper than any of these things. It was the fact that even now, after all these years, as soon as they were together they once again functioned like a single person, helping each other without even having to explain what they were trying to accomplish. Jakt saw it and even to Ender, who had never known him before, it was obvious that the man felt devastated. As if he saw his wife and her brother together and realized: This is what closeness is. This is what it means for two people to be one. He had thought that he and Valentine had been as close as husband and wife can ever be, and perhaps they were. And yet now he had to confront the fact that it was possible for two people to be even closer. To be, in some sense, the same person.
Ender could see this in Jakt, and could admire how well Valentine was doing at reassuring him—and at distancing herself from Ender so that her husband could grow used to the bond between them more gradually, in small doses.
What Ender could not have predicted was the way Novinha had reacted. He had come to know her first as the mother of her children; he had known only the fierce, unreasonable loyalty she had for them. He had supposed that if she felt threatened, she would become possessive and controlling, the way she was with the children. He was not at all prepared for the way she had withdrawn from him. Even before this silent treatment about Quim’s mission, she had been distant from him. In fact, now that he thought back, he realized that it had already been beginning before Valentine arrived. It was as if Novinha had already started giving in to a new rival before the rival was even there.
It made sense, of course—he should have seen it coming. Novinha had lost too many strong figures in her life, too many people she had depended on. Her parents. Pipo. Libo. Even Miro. She might be protective and possessive with her children, whom she thought of as needing her, but with the people she needed, she was the opposite. If she feared that they would be taken away from her, she withdrew from them; she stopped permitting herself to need them.
Not “them.” Him. Ender. She was trying to stop needing him. And this silence, if she kept it up, would drive such a wedge between them that their marriage would never recover.
If that happened, Ender didn’t know what he would do. It had never occurred to him that his marriage might be threatened. He had not entered into it lightly; he intended to die married to Novinha, and all these years together had been filled with the joy that comes from utter confidence in another person. Now Novinha had lost that confidence in him. Only it wasn’t right. He was still her husband, faithful to her as no other man, no other person in her life had ever been. He didn’t deserve to lose her over a ridiculous misunderstanding. And if he let things go as Novinha seemed determined, however unconsciously, to make them happen, she would be utterly convinced that she could never depend on any other person. That would be tragic because it would be false.
So Ender was already planning a confrontation of some kind with Novinha when Ela accidentally set it off.
“Andrew.”
Ela was standing in the doorway. If she had clapped hands outside, asking for admittance, Ender hadn’t heard her. But then, she would hardly need to clap for entrance to her mother’s house.
“Novinha’s in our room,” said Ender.
“I came to talk to you,” said Ela.
“I’m sorry, you can’t have an advance on your allowance.”
Ela laughed as she came to sit beside him, but the laughter died quickly. She was worried.
“Quara,” she said.
Ender sighed and smiled. Quara was born contrary, and nothing in her life had made her more compliant. Still, Ela had always been able to get along with her better than anyone.
“It’s not just the normal,” said Ela. “In fact, she’s less trouble than usual. Not a quarrel.”
“A dangerous sign?”
“You know she’s trying to communicate with the descolada.”
“Molecular language.”
“Well, what she’s doing is dangerous, and it won’t establish communication even if it succeeds. Especially if it succeeds, because then there’s a good chance that we’ll all be dead.”
“What’s she doing?”
“She’s been raiding my files—which isn’t hard, because I didn’t think I needed to block them off from a fellow xenobiologist. She’s been constructing the inhibitors I’ve been trying to splice into plants—easy enough, because I’ve laid out exactly how it’s done. Only instead of splicing it into anything, she’s giving it directly to the descolada.”
“What do you mean, giving it?”
“Those are her messages. That’s what she’s sending them on their precious little message carriers. Now, whether those carriers are language or not isn’t going to be settled by a non-experiment like that. But sentient or not, we know that the descolada is a hell of a good adapter—and she might well be helping them adapt to some of my best strategies for blocking them.”
“Treason.”
“Right. She’s feeding our military secrets to the enemy.”
“Have you talked to her about this?”
“‘Sta brincando. Claro que falei. Ela quase me matou.” You’re joking—of course I talked to her. She nearly killed me.
“Has she successfully trained any viruses?”
“She’s not even testing for that. It’s like she’s run to the window and hollered, ‘They’re coming to kill you!’ She’s not doing science, she’s doing interspecies politics, only we don’t know that the other side even has politics, we only know that w
ith her help it might just kill us faster than we ever imagined.”
“Nossa Senhora,” murmured Ender. “It’s too dangerous. She can’t play around with something like this.”
“It may already be too late—I can’t guess whether she’s done damage or not.”
“Then we’ve got to stop her.”
“How, break her arms?”
“I’ll talk to her, but she’s too old—or too young—to listen to reason. I’m afraid it’ll end up with the Mayor, not with us.”
Only when Novinha spoke did Ender realize that his wife had entered the room. “In other words, jail,” said Novinha. “You plan to have my daughter locked up. When were you going to inform me?”
“Jail didn’t occur to me,” said Ender. “I expected he’d shut off her access to—”
“That isn’t the Mayor’s job,” said Novinha. “It’s mine. I’m the head xenobiologist. Why didn’t you come to me, Elanora? Why to him?”
Ela sat there in silence, looking at her mother steadily. It was how she handled conflict with her mother, with passive resistance.
“Quara’s out of control, Novinha,” said Ender. “Telling secrets to the fathertrees was bad enough. Telling them to the descolada is insane.”
“Es psicologista, agora?” Now you’re a psychologist?
“I’m not planning to lock her up.”
“You’re not planning anything,” said Novinha. “Not with my children.”
“That’s right,” said Ender. “I’m not planning to do anything with children. I do have a responsibility, however, to do something about an adult citizen of Milagre who is recklessly endangering the survival of every human being on this planet, and maybe every human being everywhere.”
“And where did you get that noble responsibility, Andrew? Did God come down to the mountain and carve your license to rule people on tablets of stone?”
“Fine,” said Ender. “What do you suggest?”
“I suggest you stay out of business that doesn’t concern you. And frankly, Andrew, that includes pretty much everything. You’re not a xenobiologist. You’re not a physicist. You’re not a xenologer. In fact, you’re not much of anything, are you, except a professional meddler in other people’s lives.”
Ela gasped. “Mother!”
“The only thing that gives you any power anywhere is that damned jewel in your ear. She whispers secrets to you, she talks to you at night when you’re in bed with your wife, and whenever she wants something, there you are in a meeting where you have no business, saying whatever it was she told you to say. You talk about Quara committing treason—as far as I can tell, you’re the one who’s betraying real people in favor of an overgrown piece of software!”
“Novinha,” said Ender. It was supposed to be the beginning of an attempt to calm her.
But she wasn’t interested in dialogue. “Don’t you dare to try to deal with me, Andrew. All these years I thought you loved me—”
“I do.”
“I thought you had really become one of us, part of our lives—”
“I am.”
“I thought it was real—”
“It is.”
“But you’re just what Bishop Peregrino warned us you were from the start. A manipulator. A controller. Your brother once ruled all of humanity, isn’t that the story? But you aren’t so ambitious. You’ll settle for a little planet.”
“In the name of God, Mother, have you lost your mind? Don’t you know this man?”
“I thought I did!” Novinha was weeping now. “But no one who loved me would ever let my son go out and face those murderous little swine—”
“He couldn’t have stopped Quim, Mother! Nobody could!”
“He didn’t even try. He approved!”
“Yes,” said Ender. “I thought your son was acting nobly and bravely, and I approved of that. He knew that while the danger wasn’t great, it was real, and yet he still chose to go—and I approved of that. It’s exactly what you would have done, and I hope that it’s what I would do in the same place. Quim is a man, a good man, maybe a great one. He doesn’t need your protection and he doesn’t want it. He has decided what his life’s work is and he’s doing it. I honor him for that, and so should you. How dare you suggest that either of us should have stood in his way!”
Novinha was silent at last, for the moment, anyway. Was she measuring Ender’s words? Was she finally realizing how futile and, yes, cruel it was for her to send Quim away with her anger instead of her hope? During that silence, Ender still had some hope.
Then the silence ended. “If you ever meddle in the lives of my children again, I’m done with you,” said Novinha. “And if anything happens to Quim—anything—I will hate you till you die, and I’ll pray for that day to come soon. You don’t know everything, you bastard, and it’s about time you stopped acting as if you did.”
She stalked to the door, but then thought better of the theatrical exit. She turned back to Ela and spoke with remarkable calm. “Elanora, I will take immediate steps to block Quara from access to records and equipment that she could use to help the descolada. And in the future, my dear, if I ever hear you discussing lab business with anyone, especially this man, I will bar you from the lab for life. Do you understand?”
Again Ela answered her with silence.
“Ah,” said Novinha. “I see that he has stolen more of my children from me than I thought.”
Then she was gone.
Ender and Ela sat in stunned silence. Finally Ela stood up, though she didn’t take a single step.
“I really ought to go do something,” said Ela, “but I can’t for the life of me think what.”
“Maybe you should go to your mother and show her that you’re still on her side.”
“But I’m not,” said Ela. “In fact, I was thinking maybe I should go to Mayor Zeljezo and propose that he remove Mother as head xenobiologist because she has clearly lost her mind.”
“No she hasn’t,” said Ender. “And if you did something like that, it would kill her.”
“Mother? She’s too tough to die.”
“No,” said Ender. “She’s so fragile right now that any blow might kill her. Not her body. Her—trust. Her hope. Don’t give her any reason to think you’re not with her, no matter what.”
Ela looked at him with exasperation. “Is this something you decide, or does it just come naturally to you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Mother just said things to you that should have made you furious or hurt or—something, anyway—and you just sit there trying to think of ways to help her. Don’t you ever feel like lashing out at somebody? I mean, don’t you ever lose your temper?”
“Ela, after you’ve inadvertently killed a couple of people with your bare hands, either you learn to control your temper or you lose your humanity.”
“You’ve done that?”
“Yes,” he said. He thought for a moment that she was shocked.
“Do you think you could still do it?”
“Probably,” he said.
“Good. It may be useful when all hell breaks loose.”
Then she laughed. It was a joke. Ender was relieved. He even laughed, weakly, along with her.
“I’ll go to Mother,” said Ela, “but not because you told me to, or even for the reasons that you said.”
“Fine, just so you go.”
“Don’t you want to know why I’m going to stick with her?”
“I already know why.”
“Of course. She was wrong, wasn’t she. You do know everything, don’t you.”
“You’re going to go to your mother because it’s the most painful thing you could do to yourself at this moment.”
“You make it sound sick.”
“It’s the most painful good thing you could do. It’s the most unpleasant job around. It’s the heaviest burden to bear.”
“Ela the martyr, certo? Is that what you’ll say when you speak my death?”
“If I’m going to speak your death, I’ll have to pre-record it. I intend to be dead long before you.”
“So you’re not leaving Lusitania?”
“Of course not.”
“Even if Mother boots you out?”
“She can’t. She has no grounds for divorce, and Bishop Peregrino knows us both well enough to laugh at any request for annulment based on a claim of nonconsummation.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m here for the long haul,” said Ender. “No more phony immortality through time dilation. I’m through chasing around in space. I’ll never leave the surface of Lusitania again.”
“Even if it kills you? Even if the fleet comes?”
“If everybody can leave, then I’ll leave,” said Ender. “But I’ll be the one who turns off all the lights and locks the door.”
She ran to him and kissed him on the cheek and embraced him, just for a moment. Then she was out the door and he was, once again, alone.
I was so wrong about Novinha, he thought. It wasn’t Valentine she was jealous of. It was Jane. All these years, she’s seen me speaking silently with Jane, all the time, saying things that she could never hear, hearing things that she could never say. I’ve lost her trust in me, and I never even realized I was losing it.
Even now, he must have been subvocalizing. He must have been talking to Jane out of a habit so deep that he didn’t even know he was doing it. Because she answered him.
“I warned you,” she said.
I suppose you did, Ender answered silently.
“You never think I understand anything about human beings.”
I guess you’re learning.
“She’s right, you know. You are my puppet. I manipulate you all the time. You haven’t had a thought of your own in years.”
“Shut up,” he whispered. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Ender,” she said, “if you think it would help you keep from losing Novinha, take the jewel out of your ear. I wouldn’t mind.”
“I would,” he said.
The Ender Quintet (Omnibus) Page 100
