mean."
But for Miro, things had gone too far. "Quim's right," said Miro. "It's nobody's business but ours."
"No," said Ela. "It's his business."
"How is it his business?" asked Miro.
"Because he's here to Speak Father's death," said Ela.
"Father's death!" said Olhado. "Chupa pedras! Father only died three weeks ago!"
"I was already on my way to Speak another death," said Ender. "But someone did call for a Speaker for your father's death, and so I'll Speak for him."
"Against him," said Ela.
"For him," said Ender.
"I brought you here to tell the truth," she said bitterly, "and all the truth about Father is against him."
Silence pressed to the corners of the room, holding them all still, until Quim walked slowly through the doorway. He looked only at Ela. "You called him," he said softly. "You."
"To tell the truth!" she answered. His accusation obviously stung her; he did not have to say how she had betrayed her family and her church to bring this infidel to lay bare what had been so long concealed. "Everybody in Milagre is so kind and understanding," she said. "Our teachers overlook little things like Grego's thievery and Quara's silence. Never mind that she hasn't said a word in school, ever! Everybody pretends that we're just ordinary children - the grandchildren of Os Venerados, and so brilliant, aren't we, with a Zenador and both biologistas in the family! Such prestige. They just look the other way when Father gets himself raging drunk and comes home and beats Mother until she can't walk!"
"Shut up!" shouted Quim.
"Ela," said Miro.
"And you, Miro, Father shouting at you, saying terrible things until you run out of the house, you run, stumbling because you can hardly see - "
"You have no right to tell him!" said Quim.
Olhado leapt to his feet and stood in the middle of the room, turned around to look at them all with his unhuman eyes. "Why do you still want to hide it?" he asked softly.
"What's it to you?" asked Quim. "He never did anything to you. You just turned off your eyes and sat there with the headphones on, listening to batuque or Bach or something - "
"Turn off my eyes?" said Olhado. "I never turned off my eyes."
He whirled and walked to the terminal, which was in the corner of the room farthest from the front door. In a few quick movements he had the terminal on, then picked up an interface cable and jammed it in the socket in his right eye. It was only a simple computer linkup, but to Ender it brought back a hideous memory of the eye of a giant, torn open and oozing, as Ender bored deep, penetrated to the brain, and sent it toppling backward to its death. He froze up for a moment before he remembered that his memory was not real, it was of a computer game he had played in the Battle School. Three thousand years ago, but to him a mere twenty-five years, not such a great distance that the memory had lost its power. It was his memories and dreams of the giant's death that the buggers. had taken out of his mind and turned into the signal they left for him; eventually it had led him to the hive queen's cocoon.
It was Jane's voice that brought him back to the present moment. She whispered from the jewel, "If it's all the same to you, while he's got that eye linked up I'm going to get a dump of everything else he's got stored away in there."
Then a scene began in the air over the terminal. It was not holographic. Instead the image was like bas-relief, as it would have appeared to a single observer. It was this very room, seen from the spot on the floor where a moment ago Olhado had been sitting - apparently it was his regular spot. In the middle of the floor stood a large man, strong and violent, flinging his arms about as he shouted abuse at Miro, who stood quietly, his head bent, regarding his father without any sign of anger. There was no sound - it was a visual image only. "Have you forgotten?" whispered Olhado. "Have you forgotten what it was like?"
In the scene on the terminal Miro finally turned and left; Marc o following him to the door, shouting after him. Then he turned back into the room and stood there, panting like an animal exhausted from the chase. In the picture Grego ran