Ender said he would rather die than raise his hand against the son of his friends. And he was not a lunatic like Achilles' mother was.
Achilles. He was not Achilles. That was his mother's fantasy. It was all his mother's fantasy. He knew she was crazy, and yet he lived inside her nightmare and shaped his life to make it come true.
"What is my name?" he whispered.
On the ground at his feet, Ender whispered back: "Don't know. Delphiki. Arkanian. Their faces. In yours."
Valentine was beside them now. "Please," she said. "Can this be over now?"
"I knew," whispered Ender. "Bean's son. Petra's. Could never."
"Could never what? He's broken your nose. He could have killed you."
"I was going to," said Achilles. And then the enormity of it washed over him. "I was going to kill him with a kick to the head."
"And the stupid fool would hav
e let you," said Valentine.
"One chance," said Ender. "In five. Kill me. Good odds."
"Please," said Valentine. "I can't carry him. Bring him to the doctor. Please. You're strong enough."
Only when he bent down and lifted Ender up did he realize how badly he had damaged his own hands, so hard had been his blows.
What if he dies? What if he still dies, even though I don't want him dead now after all?
He bore Ender with studied haste along the ragged ground and Valentine had to jog to keep up. They reached the doctor's house long before he was due to leave for the clinic. He took one look at Ender and had him brought in at once for an emergency examination. "I can see who lost," said the doctor. "But who won?"
"Nobody," said...Achilles.
"There's not a mark on you," said the doctor.
He held out his hands. "Here are the marks," he said. "I did this."
"He never landed a blow on you."
"He never tried."
"And you kept on beating him? Like this? What kind of..." But then the doctor turned back to his work, stripping the clothes off Ender's body, cursing softly at the huge bruises on his ribs and belly, feeling for the breaks. "Four ribs. And multiple breaks." He looked up at Achilles again, this time with loathing on his face. "Get out of my house," he said.
Achilles started to go.
"No," said Valentine. "This was all according to his plan."
The doctor snorted. "Oh, yes, he plotted his own beating."
"Or his own death," said Valentine. "Whatever happened, he was content."
"I planned this," said Achilles.
"You only thought you did," said Valentine. "He manipulated you from the start. It's the family talent."
"My mother manipulated," said Achilles. "But I didn't have to believe her. I did this."
"No, Achilles," said Valentine. "Your mother's training did this. The lies Achilles told her did this. What you did was...stop."
Achilles felt his body convulse with a sob and he sank to his knees. "I don't know what to call myself now," he said. "I hate the name she taught me."