"You're thinking about that damnable Speaker even now, aren't you?" whispered her mother.
"So are you," Ela answered.
Both their bodies shook with Mother's laugh. "Yes." Then she stopped laughing and pulled away, looked Ela in the eyes. "Will he always come between us?"
"Yes," said Ela. "Like a bridge he'll come between us, not a wall."
Miro saw the piggies when they were halfway down the hillside toward the fence. They were so silent in the forest, but the piggies had no great skill in moving through the capim--it rustled loudly as they ran. Or perhaps in coming to answer Miro's c
all they felt no need to conceal themselves. As they came nearer, Miro recognized them. Arrow, Human, Mandachuva, Leaf-eater, Cups. He did not call out to them, nor did they speak when they arrived. Instead they stood behind the fence opposite him and regarded him silently. No Zenador had ever called the piggies to the fence before. By their stillness they showed their anxiety.
"I can't come to you anymore," said Miro.
They waited for his explanation.
"The framlings found out about us. Breaking the law. They sealed the gate."
Leaf-eater touched his chin. "Do you know what it was the framlings saw?"
Miro laughed bitterly. "What didn't they see? Only one framling ever came with us."
"No," said Human. "The hive queen says it wasn't the Speaker. The hive queen says they saw it from the sky."
The satellites? "What could they see from the sky?"
"Maybe the hunt," said Arrow.
"Maybe the shearing of the cabra," said Leaf-eater.
"Maybe the fields of amaranth," said Cups.
"All of those," said Human. "And maybe they saw that the wives have let three hundred twenty children be born since the first amaranth harvest."
"Three hundred!"
"And twenty," said Mandachuva.
"They saw that food would be plenty," said Arrow. "Now we're sure to win the next war. Our enemies will be planted in huge new forests all over the plain, and the wives will put mother trees in every one of them."
Miro felt sick. Is this what all their work and sacrifice was for, to give some transient advantage to one tribe of piggies? Almost he said, Libo didn't die so you could conquer the world. But his training took over, and he asked a noncommittal question. "Where are all these new children?"
"None of the little brothers come to us," explained Human. "We have too much to do, learning from you and teaching all the other brother-houses. We can't be training little brothers." Then, proudly, he added, "Of the three hundred, fully half are children of my father, Rooter."
Mandachuva nodded gravely. "The wives have great respect for what you have taught us. And they have great hope in the Speaker for the Dead. But what you tell us now, this is very bad. If the framlings hate us, what will we do?"
"I don't know," said Miro. For the moment, his mind was racing to try to cope with all the information they had just told him. Three hundred twenty new babies. A population explosion. And Rooter somehow the father of half of them. Before today Miro would have dismissed the statement of Rooter's fatherhood as part of the piggies' totemic belief system. But having seen a tree uproot itself and fall apart in response to singing, he was prepared to question all his old assumptions.
Yet what good did it do to learn anything now? They'd never let him report again; he couldn't follow up; he'd be aboard a starship for the next quarter century while someone else did all his work. Or worse, no one else.
"Don't be unhappy," said Human. "You'll see--the Speaker for the Dead will make it all work out well."
"The Speaker. Yes, he'll make everything work out fine." The way he did for me and Ouanda. My sister.
"The hive queen says he'll teach the framlings to love us--"
"Teach the framlings," said Miro. "He'd better do it quickly then. It's too late for him to save me and Ouanda. They're arresting us and taking us off planet."
"To the stars?" asked Human hopefully.