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twines that led to them; no, not to them, to her. The Hive Queen. The one that
he had carried in her dry cocoon for three thousand years, world to world, until
at last he found a home for her. Now she at last returned the gift; when Jane's
aiúa probed along the twines that led to her, there he was, uncertain, lost.
He knew her. Cut off as he was, it was astonishing that he knew anything; but he
knew her. And once again he followed her. This time she did not lead him into
the body that he had given her; that was hers now; no, it was her now. Instead
she led him to a different body in a different place.
But he acted as he had in the body that was now her own; he seemed to be a
stranger here. Even though the million aiúas of the body reached out for him,
yearned for him to sustain them, he held himself aloof. Had it been so terrible
for him, what he saw and felt in the other body? Or was it that this body was
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Peter, that for him it represented all he feared most in himself? He would not
take it. It was his, and he would not, could not ...
But he must. She led him through it, giving each part of it to him. This is you
now. Whatever it once meant to you, that isn't what it is now -- you can be
whole here, you can be yourself now.
He didn't understand her; cut off from any kind of body, how much thought was he
capable of, anyway? He only knew that this body wasn't the one he loved. He had
given up the ones he loved.
Still she pulled him on; he followed. This cell, this tissue, this organ, this
limb, they are you, see how they yearn for you, see how they obey you. And they
did, they obeyed him despite his pulling away. They obeyed him until at last he
began to think the thoughts of the mind and feel the sensations of the body.
Jane waited, watching, holding him in place, willing him to stay long enough to
accept the body, for she could see that without her he would let go, he would
flee. I don't belong here, his aiúa was saying silently. I don't belong, I don't
belong.
Wang-mu cradled his head on her lap, keening, crying. Around her the Samoans
were gathering to watch her grief. She knew what it meant, when he collapsed,
when he went so limp, when his hair came loose. Ender was dead in some far-off
place, and he could not find his way here. "He's lost," she cried. "He's lost."
Vaguely she heard a stream of Samoan from Malu. And then the translation from
Grace. "He isn't lost. She's led him here. The God has led him here but he's
afraid to stay."
How could he be afraid? Peter, afraid? Ender, afraid? Ludicrous on both counts.
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What part of him had ever been a coward? What was it that he had ever feared?
And then she remembered -- what Ender feared was Peter, and Peter's fear had
always been of Ender. "No," she said, only now it wasn't grief. Now it was
frustration, anger, need. "No, listen to me, you belong here! This is you, the
real you! I don't care what you're afraid of now! I don't care how lost you
might be. I want you here. This is your home and it always has been. With me!
We're good together. We belong together. Peter! Ender -- whoever you think you
are -- do you think it makes any difference to me? You've always been yourself,
the same man you are now, and this has always been your body. Come home! Come
back!" And on and on she babbled.
And then his eyes opened, and his lips parted in a smile. "Now that's acting,"
he said.
Angrily she pushed him down again. "How can you laugh at me like that!"
"So you didn't mean it," he said. "You don't like me after all."
"I never said I did like you," she answered.
"I know what you said."
"Well," she said. "Well."
"And it was true," he said. "Was and is."
"You mean I said something right? I hit upon truth?"
"You said that I belonged here," Peter answered. "And I do." His hand reached up
to touch her cheek, but didn't stop there. He put his hand behind her neck, and
drew her down, and held her close to him. Around them two dozen huge Samoans
laughed and laughed.
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This is you now, Jane said to him. This is the whole of you. One again. You are
at one.
Whatever he had experienced during his reluctant control of the body was enough.
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