19: For the Hive

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Half a season ago, Tyk wouldn’t have dared approach a member of the hiveheart directly, but with the welfare of Smon’s hivemates in the balance she tracks down Hetta that very night, cornering her and Kehetta as they line up for food.

“I need to talk to you,” she says, and then, under the wilting glare of the pair, lifts her mandibles and adds a timid, “Um, please, when you’re not busy.”

“We are busy right now, little one,” Kehetta says scathingly from his truesister’s horns. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“She’s Tyk. The little wanderer who advocates for our skyborn guest.” Hetta looks her up and down. “Is this about Smon, Tyk?”

“Yes. Well, sort of. It’s about the rest of her hive.”

Hetta and Kehetta exchange a brief, low hum and a horn tilt. “Well,” Hetta says, “this line’s not moving particularly quickly. You might as well tell us.”

Tyk had hoped to be pulled off somewhere more private, but it Hetta wants to risk the other people in line gossiping about what Tyk has to say then that’s her problem.

“The current plan,” Tyk says, “or the plan the last time we had contact with the other hives, was to send all the sky people to Starspire. And everyone wanted to do it as soon as possible, before the wet season blocked off the river for the next half a year if we could. Meaning that if contact isn’t re-established before then… well, we don’t know how well the other hives are able to communicate with the sky people. We don’t know how many of them still think they’re harbouring stars, or how many assume everyone else thinks that and will stick with the plan, or how many might decide to send the sky people to Starspire anyway. But if we can’t communicate with the other hives, then some of Smon’s hive, maybe a few or maybe almost all of them, are going to be taken on a long, dangerous journey through sleeplands to the mountains. And then, once we do re-establish contact, they’ll have to come back. It’s a dangerous journey for us, and they can’t even eat our food! At least some of them are going to die. Maybe all of them. And they don’t have to.”

Hetta and Kehetta listen calmly and without surprise, and Tyk realises that, yes, of course this must have been obvious to everyone who expected communication to be down for that long. In the indulgent tone of somebody trying to calm a child, Hetta says, “Your friend will be fine, Tyk. She can stay safe here for the wet season, and once we have – ”

“This is bugger than Smon! People are here from an entire other earth, and they – ”

“Aren’t our responsibility,” Kehetta says firmly. “They have other hives to look after them, and they can look after themselves.”

“No, they can’t! They don’t know anything about this earth; they’re relying on the hives to tell them. And the hives have no coordination right now.”

“Very true, the hives have no coordination,” Hetta says, “which is why we have bigger things to worry about. It’d be nice to help these outsiders if we can, certainly, but the Redstone River Hive comes first, Tyk, you know that.”

“These outsides can help our hive,” Tyk insists. “You’ve seen the things that Smon has, her magic stones and her silks and her boat – that’s not an egg, it’s a constructed thing, and you’ve seen how strong it is. Somebody made that, and they might still be alive down here. How useful would that knowledge be, in making burrows, or tower bases, or carts?”

“Towers and carts, like what our bamboo is used for? It will benefit the hive to save someone who could destroy our trading power?” Hetta asks, and Tyk feels a stab of panic; but Hetta sounds amused, not worried about this hypothetical resource threat. “The sky people probably do know how to make some very useful things – I myself am very envious of Smon’s magic light stone – but such things are hardly useful to a starved hive. The sky people are going to have to wait, because right now, we need to be preparing for a trade-starved wet season. We do not have the resources or the time to be sending messengers on foot or wing to every single hive that’s in contact with a sky person just to organise – ”

“We don’t have to do that,” Tyk cuts in impatiently, and she knows she’s being disrespectful, but come on; can these hivebodies not think like a traveller even once? It’s like they just constantly forget that the other hives all exist in a physical space, with physical relation to their own, and not just as song on the stream and occasional traders coming over the horizon. “Getting to the Starspire means crossing the river. There’s only a few good places to do that, and everyone will want to do it at a place that means moving through as little sleepland as possible. They’ll follow the trade routes, and stop off at the hives nearest the crossings first. We don’t need to go around warning everyone – we need to send messengers to the two hives near the river crossings. One upriver to the Green Hills Hive, one downriver to the Darkmarsh Hive. They can tell any caravans who show up with sky people.”

Hetta and Kehetta both stare at her, as if they really hadn’t considered that. Stars above, it’s the discussion about sky people hive locations all over again. “That’s… potentially quite doable,” Hetta says. “I will bring it to the hiveheart.”

“Thank you.” Tyk dips her body deferentially and then leaves before she has a chance to push her luck in some stupid manner.

The next day, Tyk finally gets a chance to get away from work and sneak off to see Smon. There are no guards keeping an eye on her; with so much preparation for the hive to do for the wet season, everyone has evidently decided that Smon has demonstrated an ability to look after herself and that she doesn’t need protection.

Smon’s boat and tent look essentially the same, but the area around them is notably devoid of grass. That’s not a problem for a small area, but if Smon’s people harvest like that when they have their own hive then the area around it will become devoid of vegetation very quickly. If Smon needs that much grass for something – and she must, because why else pick it – then that might be an issue. Something to consider with hive locations, certainly.

Smon comes out of her tent, and her fleshy face distorts into an expression that Tyk knows to indicate joy. “Tyk! Are you well?”

“Yes,” Tyk says, serruptitiously looking Smon over as she approaches. (She looks fine; no obvious injuries.) “Are you well?” There’s no particular reason to expect her not to be, but the time apart has made Tyk a little nervous. What if something happens that Smon can’t handle?

“Yes. Come! Look at farm.” For the first time, she leads Tyk inside her tent.

Shelves line the walls, a couple made of strange sky people materials, but most of them made of bamboo. They’re lined with objects, most of them boxes and bags that Tyk doesn’t even try to speculate the contents or purpose of. Some have pipes moving between them, others sit alone. Some are made of the strange transparent stone that Tyk has seen Smon put liquid in before.

Smon’s “farm” is bulky enough that she’s moved shelves out of the way to make room for it. It’s larger than Smon and Tyk’s masses combined, and seems to be a collection of containers made from sky people materials, each container larger than her torso. She carefully opens the first and largest container, and hot steam billows out.

“Plant in here,” she says. “Wash first, many many wash, clean water. Then in here with water. Magic fire make very hot and crush.”

It is, indeed, full of some kind of vegetation stew. “Crush?”

“Crush with air and steam. Turn small sun-carrying shape into different small sun-carrying shape.”

“One that you can eat.”

“No.” She closes the container and opens the next one. This one also contains boiled plant matter, Tyk thinks; it’s not all that easy to tell, given how broken down it is, but there are definitely grass stalks and bamboo chips in there, coated by some kind of watery yellowish goo. Smon acts as if the concoction smells horrible, leaning back and turning her face away, but Tyk can’t smell much of anything. “One that small life in here can eat. Small yellow life eats small shape, make Smon Earth type of small shape. Take plant out.” (Smon demonstrates, lifting a handle to reveal that the plant matter is in some kind of washing rack and pulling it out of the container, letting the goo drip through, and then puts it back.) “Take plant out, leave small Smon-earth life in there until starts to die, until no more plant small shape to eat. Then, put in here.” She opens the next container. In here, clumps of some kind of red fungus grow in a pool of yellow goo.

“This,” she says, “is Smon food. Grow big, wash clean, eat.” She closes the final container. “Now, big job is make small, for travel.”

“Can a smaller one make enough food for you?” Tyk asks.

“No. Is problem. To make enough food for Smon, farm either big, or farm grow fast. So, I try to make grow fast. Or, must make and store many food, enough to eat for whole travel. But that so many food, more easy to take this farm.”

Maybe so. It will probably depend on where the sky people hive ends up being. But all of the sky people are going to have the same problem as Smon, and wherever it is, some of them are going to have to travel.

“You’ve used a lot of grass for it,” Tyk notes. “What about when your hive runs out of grass?”

“No, no run out. Run out here, yes, but find plenty, find more things to put in. If land can feed entire Redstone River Hive of so many people, can feed us. Plant lorekeepers fall with us, some big maybe alive. They know, they build way to grow.”

“Plant lorekeepers?”

“Maybe wrong word. Not have all Tyk words. People who know plant. Build know of plant.”

“And you called yourself a rock lorekeeper.”

“Yes. Rock and soil. Many lorekeepers fall.”

“Why?”

“On javlyn, almost five thousand Smon people. Not all fall, no time. Must choose. Javlyn people choose, those big maybe live.”

“And you thought that a hive of lorekeepers had the best chance of survival?”

“Yes. New earth, new thing, different thing. Find danger, build new task. Very difficult. Knowing danger, knowing to think new build, best chance. We try to land all together, know and build all together, but…” she rolls her shoulders, and gestures at the world at large with one claw. “Javlyn not steer, so. Fall far.”

“Rocks and soil are a danger?”

“Rock and soil, other useful, tell other things. Build or make or grow plant.”

That’s fair enough. Rock and soil composition is critically important to a hive; it determines what grows in the ground, and how deep, and how easy it is to get to or avoid. Somebody has to know where to find Smon’s Earth’s version of sweetroot, and maybe those skills will help her find sweetroot here, if only to feed her farm before her hive runs out of grass.

“But also yes, rock big big danger. Many danger.”

“How?” It doesn’t take an expert in rocks and soil to avoid getting crushed while burrowing.

“Rock poison, maybe. Rock crush make poison dust, maybe. Rock have… poison light… maybe. Many danger rock. Some danger rock even on Smon Earth, where Smon people grow to be! Maybe many more danger rock here, in new place.”

“Did you say poisoned light?”

“Yes. Dark light, no see light. Go in body, break small shape. Burn inside and die fast – or break small shape slow, die slow, many year.”

“Here?!”

“No. Smon check. All Smon people who fall, first know things to do – check for poison light, check for poison air and water, check for how make food. But some thing, too… difficult or too many, to every know. Lorekeepers know. Smon know difficult thing for rocks, find other poison rocks, find rocks that show other rocks and other things.”

“Other things?”

“Some rocks make in big fire, deep deep burrow. Some rocks make from dead. Some soil say many life here, some soil say not many life here long time. Some rock say, other thing here, useful thing or danger thing. Smon lorekeeper for this. Other Smon people, keeper for other lore. Together we big maybe at alive, make hive.”

“Together,” Tyk says. “Yeah, that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

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