[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
over, shrinking down, not to her ancient core, but into small corners of
herself, disparate fragments that were too small to hold her.
I'm dying, I'm dying, she said over and over again, hating the words as she said
them, hating the panic that she felt.
Into the computer before which Young Valentine sat, she spoke -- and spoke only
words, because she couldn't remember now how to make the face that had been her
mask for so many centuries. "Now I am afraid." But having said it, she couldn't
remember whether it had been Young Valentine to whom she was supposed to say it.
That part of her was also gone; a moment ago it had been there, but now it was
out of reach.
And why was she talking to this surrogate for Ender? Why did she cry out softly
into Miro's ear, into Peter's ear, saying, "Speak to me speak to me I'm afraid"?
It wasn't these manshapes that she wanted now. It was the one who had torn her
from his ear. It was the one who had rejected her and chosen a sad and weary
human woman because -- he thought -- Novinha's need was greater. But how can she
need you more than I do now? If you die she will still live. But I die now
because you have glanced away from me.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Wang-mu heard his voice murmuring beside her on the beach. Was I asleep, she
wondered. She lifted her cheek from the sand, rose up on her arms. The tide was
out now, the water farthest it could get from where she lay. Beside her Peter
was sitting crosslegged in the sand, rocking back and forth, softly saying,
"Jane, I hear you. I'm speaking to you. Here I am," as tears flowed down his
cheeks.
And in that moment, hearing him intone these words to Jane, Wang-mu realized two
things all at once. First, she knew that Jane must be dying, for what could
Peter's words be but comfort, and what comfort would Jane need, except in the
hour of her extremity? The second realization, though, was even more terrible to
Wang-mu. For she knew, seeing Peter's tears for the first time -- seeing, for
the first time, that he was even capable of crying -- that she wanted to be able
to touch his heart as Jane touched it; no, to be the only one whose dying would
grieve him so.
When did it happen? she wondered. When did I first start wanting him to love me?
Did it happen only now, a childish desire, wanting him only because another
woman -- another creature -- possessed him? Or have I, in these days together,
come to want his love for its own sake? Has his taunting of me, his
condescension, and yet his secret pain, his hidden fear, has all of this somehow
endeared him to me? Was it his very disdain toward me that made me want, not
just his approval, but his affection? Or was it his pain that made me want to
have him turn to me for comfort?
Why should I covet his love so much? Why am I so jealous of Jane, this dying
stranger that I hardly know or even know about? Could it be that after so many
years of priding myself on my solitude, I must discover that I've longed for
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
some pathetic adolescent romance all along? And in this longing for affection,
could I have chosen a worse applicant for the position? He loves someone else
that I can never compare to, especially after she's dead; he knows me to be
ignorant and cares not at all for any good qualities I might have; and he
himself is only some fraction of a human being, and not the nicest part of the
whole person who is so divided.
Have I lost my mind?
Or have I, finally, found my heart?
She was suddenly filled with unaccustomed emotion. All her life she had kept her
own feelings at such a distance from herself that now she hardly knew how to
contain them. I love him, though Wang-mu, and her heart nearly burst with the
intensity of her passion. He will never love me, thought Wang-mu, and her heart
broke as it had never broken in all the thousand disappointments of her life.
My love for him is nothing compared to his need for her, his knowledge of her.
For his ties to her are deeper than these past few weeks since he was conjured
into existence on that first voyage Outside. In all the lonely years of Ender's
wandering, Jane was his most constant friend, and that is the love that now
pours out of Peter's eyes with tears. I am nothing to him, I'm a latecome
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]