last night. Do you know that he didn't even know how to transfer money? And you wouldn't believe the awful password that he has--I thought the computers were supposed to reject words like that--no, I can't tell you, it's a secret--I was practically teaching him how to do searches--but I think he understands computers, he's not an idiot or anything--he said he used to have a slave program, that's why he's got that jewel in his ear--he told me I could pay myself anything I want, not that there's much to buy, but I can save it for when I get out on my own--I think he's really old. I think he remembers things from a long time ago. I think he speaks Stark as his native language, there aren't many people in the Hundred Worlds who actually grow up speaking it, do you think maybe he was born on Earth?
Until Quim finally screamed at him to shut up about that servant of the devil or he'd ask the Bishop to conduct an exorcism because Olhado was obviously possessed; and when Olhado only grinned and winked, Quim stormed out of the kitchen, out of the house, and didn't come back until late at night. The Speaker might as well live at our house, thought Novinha, because he keeps influencing the family even when he isn't there and now he's prying in my files and I won't have it.
Except that, as usual, it's my own fault, I'm the one who called him here, I'm the one who took him from whatever place he called home--he says he had a sister there--Trondheim, it was--it's my fault he's here in this miserable little town in a backwater of the Hundred Worlds, surrounded by a fence that still doesn't keep the piggies from killing everyone I love--
And once again she thought of Miro, who looked so much like his real father that she couldn't understand why no one accused her of adultery, thought of him lying on the hillside as Pipo had lain, thought of the piggies cutting him open with their cruel wooden knives. They will. No matter what I do, they will. And even if they don't, the day will come soon when he will be old enough to marry Ouanda, and then I'll have to tell him who he really is, and why they can never marry, and he'll know then that I did deserve all the pain that Cao inflicted on me, that he struck me with the hand of God to punish me for my sins.
Even me, thought Novinha. This speaker has forced me to think of things I've managed to hide from myself for weeks, months at a time. How long has it been since I've spent a morning thinking about my children? And with hope, no less. How long since I've let myself think of Pipo and Libo? How long since I've even noticed that I do believe in God, at least the vengeful, punishing Old Testament God who wiped out cities with a smile because they didn't pray to him. If Christ amounts to anything I don't know it.
Thus Novinha passed the day, doing no work, while her thoughts also refused to carry her to any sort of conclusion.
In midafternoon Quim came to the door. "I'm sorry to bother you, Mother."
"It doesn't matter," she said. "I'm useless today, anyway."
"I know you don't care that Olhado is spending his time with that satanic bastard, but I thought you should know that Quara went straight there after school. To his house."
"Oh?"
"Or don't you care about that either, Mother? What, are you planning to turn down the sheets and let him take Father's place completely?"
Novinha leapt to her feet and advanced on the boy with cold fury. He wilted before her.
"I'm sorry, Mother, I was so angry--"
"In all my years of marriage to your father, I never once permitted him to raise a hand against my children. But if he were alive today I'd ask him to give you a thrashing."
"You could ask," said Quim defiantly, "but I'd kill him before I let him lay a hand on me. You might like getting slapped around, but nobody'll ever do it to me!"
She didn't decide to do it; her hand swung out and slapped his face before she noticed it was happening.
It couldn't have hurt him very much. But he immediately burst into tears, slumped down, and sat on the floor, his back to Novinha. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he kept murmuring as he cried.
She knelt behind him and awkwardly rubbed his shoulders. It occurred to her that she hadn't so much as embraced the boy since he was Grego's age. When did I decide to be so cold? And why, when I touched him again, was it a slap instead of a kiss?
"I'm worried about what's happening, too," said Novinha.
"He's wrecking everything," said Quim. "He's come here and everything's changing."
"Well, for that matter, Estevao, things weren't so very wonderful that a change wasn't welcome."
"Not his way. Confession and penance and absolution, that's the change we need."
Not for the first time, Novinha envied Quim's faith in the power of the priests to wash away sin. That's because you've never sinned, my son, that's because you know nothing of the impossibility of penance.
"I think I'll have a talk with the Speaker," said Novinha.
"And take Quara home?"
"I don't know. I can't help but notice that he got her talking again. And it isn't as if she likes him. She hasn't a good word to say about him."
"Then why did she go to his house?"
"I suppose to say something rude to him. You've got to admit that's an improvement over her silence."
"The devil disguises himself by seeming to do good acts, and then--"
"Quim, don't lecture me on demonology. Take me to the Speaker's house, and I'll deal with him."