26: The Green Hills Hive

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The next morning, the caravan wakes to the approach of some Green Hills women, who take their carts to the trader burrow so that the Redstone River visitors can rush on ahead and meet with the hive. Smon is reluctant to leave her farm in the care of strangers, so Mir volunteers to stay behind and handle that cart so that she can go on ahead and ask about her hivemates.

The first thing that Tyk sees approaching the hive is of course the communication tower, hung with half-woven silks and alive with activity, but the group don’t head towards it. Not all hives are as lucky as the Redstone River Hive, to have a good spot in the wingsong stream directly above a good burrow digging spot; the tower sits about halfway between the river and the hive proper, which is some distance East. Most of the men decide to make a brief stop at the tower to meet their local peers, catch up on the gossip, and introduce an excited Keyan to the first tower he’s old enough to fly all the way up on his own, but Kesan sits protectively between his daughter’s horns, strangely nervous.

“Everything alright?” Tyk asks, and he buzzes reassurance back. It’s a nervous reassurance, though.

“Do not forget,” he tells her, “that this isn’t our hive. These people have no obligation to protect or look after you, beyond traveller’s hospitality.”

Oh. He’s just being overprotective again. “They have no reason to dislike us either,” Tyk points out. “Traveller’s hospitality should be plenty. It’s always been just fine for the travellers and traders that come o our hive; they leave safe and well. Why would the Green Hills Hive be any different?”

“We know that the Redstone River Hive is a good place. We don’t know anything about this hive except for what they choose to tell us on the windsong stream.”

“And what immigrants like Bette say. Or what the traders say. They’ve never had any complaints.”

“Yes, well, the immigrants have memories of being part of the hive, which is different. And the traders have appropriate expectations. I’m just saying, we can’t expect the same level of care or consideration from these people as we get from our own. If we offend them badly enough, they would be within their rights to toss us out, if they so choose. Or use a more drastic and permanent reprimand.”

“I wasn’t planning on offending – ”

“Don’t yell at the hiveheart, is all I’m saying.”

“What? What do you take me for? Why would I yell at the hiveheart?”

“Well, at home, you tend to do it whenever there’s even the slightest chance that you think Smon could be put in any kind of danger, and I daresay we’re about to have a long discussion about the whereabouts and actions of her hivemates.”

Well, okay. That’s a fair point. “… I’ll watch my words.”

“And your body language.”

“And my body language.”

“Good girl.” He drops to her back to hum for Ketyk for a moment, then flies to San’s horns, giving Tyk some space.

The amount of activity happening around the entrance of the Green Hills Hive as they approach is clearly unnecessary. It reminds Tyk the first time Smon saw the Redstone River Hive, and the way that so many people found an excuse to be working outside. Smon moves closer to her as they walk, clearly nervous, and Tyk reminds herself not to get aggressive or disrespectful on her behalf, if it comes to it. Smon might be nervous, but she can handle herself; this isn’t like her first encounters with the Redstone River Hive. Green Hills have dealt with sky people before, and she can communicate with her echo stone now.

A few of the women working outside, Tyk notes with some interest, have intricate designs carved into their carapaces in addition to a smattering of gems. Immigrants from the Glittergem Hive; they have to be. Gemstones come from the Glittergem Hive, and they don’t use them as marks of honour and achievement, instead carving their victories into their bodies. Tyk has only seen the designs on traders before now. There aren’t many such immigrants about, but the ones who are there might know something about the Starspire area that Smon’s hivemates have gone to, or at least something about the route there.

Looking around, Tyk doesn’t see anyone who’s obviously from the Green Hills hiveheart, but it’s very possible that some hiveheart members are about and she simply wouldn’t know how to recognise them. She knows how to recognise a command pattern in the Redstone River Hive, how to look at a busy situation and track where people are getting their orders from and quickly track down the person in charge of a situation, but that doesn’t guarantee that she can do the same thing in an unfamiliar hive. It’s also possible that somebody not on the hiveheart is in charge of handling their visit, although Tyk doesn’t think that’s very likely – if more sky people were showing up at the Redstone River Hive, that would definitely be something that the hiveheart would take a direct and personal interest in.

The truepair who step forward to meet them as they approach the hive are on the cusp of becoming elderly, with dulling wings and blunting horns, and clearly command at least some respect from the various people around the hive staring at the visitors while pretending to work. The woman looks the party over and drops her mandibles and claws in welcome.

“I am Hild,” she says. “Welcome, Redstone River, to the Green Hills Hive.” Her eyes rest on Bette. “I see you’re still burrowing about, Bette.”

“And you two have somehow managed to not get yourselves killed,” Bette observes. “Congratulations.”

“You honour us with your shelter,” Toi says, which is a much more polite answer.

Hild turns to Smon. “Sky visitor. Welcome to our hive. We still have the facilities of your predecessors waiting for you.”

Using her arms to imitate mandibles, Smon executes a passable imitation of a polite, grateful gesture. “You honour me with your shelter.” The echo stone’s words are in San’s voice; she must have taught Smon the proper forms on the journey.

The group are welcomed into the entrance tunnel, which looks essentially like Redstone River’s entrance but with the carvings and gemstones set in unfamiliar designs (though Smon must see something interesting in them; Tyk has spent enough time with Smon to be able to tell when she’s barely restraining herself from dashing off to inspect something) and given ground moss and cooked sweetroot. Tyk is struck by a sudden cave-in of emotion at the scent of sweetroot, something she’s only ever smelled before in the safety of the Redstone River Hive, and does her best to remain composed and dignified in front of all of these strangers. She sits as close as possible to San to eat, hoping her mother’s bulk will hide her from as many people as possible.

A girl, perhaps a season or two younger than Tyk, approaches the group with a basket on her horns which she offers, very nervously, to Smon. Smon thanks her with calm formality and takes it. It’s filled with food; sky people food in bright, flimsy skins, the food that Tyk first saw Smon eating. Left behind by Myn and Haidn, presumably. Smon inspects one carefully before peeling the skin away and taking a bite.

Tyk follows the girl until she’s far enough away from the general pack of people in the entrance hall to have at least the illusion of a private conversation. As she expects, nobody pays any real attention to her; in a group of messengers, a returning immigrant and her children, and a visitor from the sky, a child too young to have laid a brother yet is easily the least interesting person in the room. Tyk figures that so long as she’s very well behaved, people will probably ignore her.

Being incredibly well behaved is a little outside her normal route, but there’s a first time for everything.

“Hey,” she says to the girl. “I’m Tyk.”

“Penni. You came all the way from the Redstone River Hive?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s it like?”

“Um.” Tyk glances around the dome. “Pretty similar to this hive, so far. Why did Haidn and Myn leave?”

“Weren’t all the godlings going to leave?”

Godling? Wait; do the people here not know about – no, no, they have to know that the sky people aren’t stars. Smon wasn’t addressed as a star when they arrived. Besides, if they hadn’t already known, Kesan and Kemir would’ve explained when they arrived days ago. The entire point of their journey is to get everyone in the same tunnel about keeping the sky people safe and in the area for now.

“They were supposed to wait for more of their hivemates to arrive and go in a bigger group. When did they leave?”

“Uh, pretty soon after the wingsong stream stopped working. They wanted to go as quickly as they could. They said they could be running out of time, I think? And wanted to get to work on their project right away. I don’t really know much except gossip, I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to them.”

“Project? What project?”

Penni glances about nervously. “Um. I think the hiveheart want to explain that. They understand it better than me, so…”

“Do you know when they want to meet us?”

“As soon as possible, I think. Your hive is so lucky that you had traders at home to send when the wingsong stream went down. All the Green Hills Hive traders were nowhere near here, except the ones we sent to Glitergem with the godlings, of course.”

“Ours were far from home, too. We’re not traders, we were just picked as messengers.”

“And you got to go? Wow! Is one of your parents on your hiveheart or something?”

“No. I’m just Smon’s friend.”

“That’s so cool!” Penni is looking at Tyk with admiration, which is a little disconcerting. She’s looking at her like the younger kids usually look at people like Ayan. Tyk tries to recall if she’s ever been on the receiving end of that look before, and comes up blank.

“Are Haidn and Myn not very friendly?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I didn’t really get to talk to them. They mostly spoke to the hiveheart and other important people.”

“Well, Smon’s very friendly. I’m sure she’d be happy to talk to you.”

Before Penni can respond, the attention of the room suddenly shifts. The girls go silent and Tyk tries to subtly move back towards the rest of the caravan (the men have joined them by now, it looks like) to better see what’s going on. The focus of attention is a man who, judging by the deference of everyone around him, is probably either a member of the hiveheart or very nearly one.

He lands on a perch before the caravan and (unnecessarily) flutters his wings for attention.

“Welcome, visitors from the Redstone River Hive. We are pleased to have news from our neighbour hive, and even more pleased that your hive is doing well in this very troubling time. We thank you for taking the risk of bringing trade goods at such an uncertain time, and will gladly negotiate trade with you later. For now, though, there is of course the more unusual circumstance for us all to deal with.” He turns his attention to Smon. “Smon of the sky-hive, welcome. The hiveheart would like to speak to you and to your caravan leader immediately.”

Smon gestures formally, respectfully, and says, “The Green Hills Hive honour me with your hospitality. For ease of communication, might I bring my interpreter, Tyk, to the meeting?”

It’s San’s voice in the echo stone again, perfectly formed words paired with Smon’s carefully practiced gestures. Tyk wonders how many scenarios San and Smon practiced proper responses to. But there’s no time to worry about that now, because the hive’s attention is suddenly, uncomfortably, on her. She tries to look respectful and inoffensive and like an upstanding citizen of the Redstone River Hive.

“Of course,” the man says. “Ease of communication is paramount. Shall we?”

Tyk does her best to remain calm. It’s time to meet the Green Hills hiveheart.

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