Ender scrambled up, the turves coming away from his feet in the soft ground. Abra was pointing downward. "Can you believe this?" he asked.
The hill was hollow. A deep depression in the middle, partially filled with water, was ringed by concave slopes that cantilevered dangerously over the water. In one direction the hill gave way to two long ridges that made a V-shaped valley; in the other direction the hill rose to a piece of white rock, grinning like a skull with a tree growing out of its mouth.
"It's like a giant died here," said Abra, "and the Earth grew up to cover his carcass."
Now Ender knew why it had looked familiar. The Giant's corpse. He had played here too many times as a child not to know this place. But it was not possible. The computer in the Battle School could not possibly have seen this place. He looked through his binoculars in a direction he knew well, fearing and hoping that he would see what belonged in that place.
Swings and slides. Monkey bars. Now overgrown, but the shapes still un-mistakable.
"Somebody had to have built this," Abra said. "Look, this skull place, it's not rock, look at it. This is concrete."
"I know," said Ender. "They built it for me."
"What?"
"I know this place, Abra. The buggers built it for me."
"The buggers were all dead fifty years before we got here."
"You're right, it's impossible, but I know what I know. Abra, I shouldn't take you with me. It might be dangerous. If they knew me well enough to build this place, they might be planning to--"
"To get even with you."
"For killing them."
"So don't go, Ender. Don't do what they want you to do."
"If they want to get revenge, Abra, I don't mind. But perhaps they don't. Perhaps this is the closest they could come to talking. To writing me a note."
"They didn't know how to read and write."
"Maybe they were learning when they died."
"Well, I'm sure as hell not sticking around here if you're taking off some-where. I'm going with you."
"No. You're too young to take the risk of--"
"Come on! You're Ender Wiggin. Don't tell me what eleven-year-old kids can do!"
Together they flew in the copter, over the playground, over the woods, over the well in the forest clearing. Then out to where there was, indeed, a cliff, with a cave in the cliff wall and a ledge right where the End of the World should be. And there in the distance, just where it should be in the fantasy game, was the castle tower.
He left Abra with the copter. "Don't come after me, and go home in an hour if I don't come back."
"Eat it, Ender, I'm coming with you."
"Eat it yourself, Abra, or I'll stuff you with mud."
Abra could tell, despite Ender's joking tone, that he meant it, and so he stayed.
The walls of the tower were notched and ledged for easy climbing. They meant him to get in.
The room was as it had always been. Ender remembered well enough to look for a snake on the floor, but there was only a rug with a carved snake's head at one corner. Imitation, not duplication; for a people who made no art, they had done well. They must have dragged these images from Ender's own mind, finding him and learning his darkest dreams across the lightyears. But why? To bring him to this room, of course. To leave a message for him. But where was the message, and how would he understand it?
The mirror was waiting for him on the wall. It was a dull sheet of metal, in which the rough shape of a human face had been scratched. They tried to draw the image I should see in the picture.
And looking at the mirror he could remember breaking it, pulling it from the wall, and snakes leaping out of the hidden place, attacking him, biting him wherever their poisonous fangs could find purchase.
How well do they know me, wondered Ender. Well enough to know how often I have thought of death, to know that I am not afraid of it. Well enough to know that even if I feared death, it would not stop me from taking that mirror from the wall.