Hyacinth entered the large hall that was the Council chamber. Her mind was darkened by her mother's trust and wishes, and the blue stick felt heavy in her hand, like it was made of stone. Many ants were crowded about entrance, making passage difficult. So many ants were present inside that no one took note of her arrival. Even the two guards standing nearby were too preoccupied with an ant speaking in the center of the room to acknowledge the entry of royalty. Hyacinth didn't have to see the speaker to know who he was-- she'd recognize Whiteoak's powerful voice anywhere.
"It is the duty of every parent to understand the merits of this proposed law. Far from reducing food to your families as critics contend, this law guarantees food to your families! With my proposal, there will no longer be endless questions about your last allotment; in a process both quick and painless you simply exchange attractive pebble-tokens for food to take back to your children. Imagine! No waiting in interminable lines! No arguments with caustic supply officers! No returning empty-handed to your little ones!"
"Colorful, isn't he?" said a familiar voice close to Hyacinth's antenna. The princess turned to see Timothy Flintspur standing near, smiling down at her. Hyacinth nodded. It warmed her to learn that someone had noticed her. Timothy drew her away from the crowded entryway as Whiteoak spoke.
"So my friends! Talk to the heads of your families, voice your desires to your Councilants. Tell them you want your children to have their fair share of food today! Make them aware that hunger is not acceptable policy!"
"They made me a captain today," Timothy said, his voice struggling to be heard over Whiteoak's monolog. Hyacinth looked up to catch him grinning down at her. It was the grin of a child who had just stolen the honey and gotten away with it. It broke her dark mood and she laughed.
"See? Councilant Mintleaf is mistaken," Hyacinth replied, much amused. "The military can make good decisions."
Timothy gave a little bow. "Your Highness is too kind to her disloyal and mischievous subject. Anyway, we'll see how I do as captain tomorrow."
"You're going on the raid?"
"Under Colonel Watershome. First thing in the morning."
Hyacinth wondered what the raids were like. The soldiers told many exciting exciting stories of the harvest raids on West River, but she thought the soldiers made light of what must be terrible and fearful experiences. "Are you frightened?"
"Scared witless." Again, the boyish grin.
The princess returned his smile, but the news unsettled her. Watershome was very experienced and professional, but there was still the chance that some ants would not return. It was wrong to hope for any ant's return over another, but the thought of Timothy not returning was painful.
Timothy, much taller than Hyacinth, was watching events in the chamber over the heads of shorter ants. "I think he's pausing for breath now," he said, indicating Whiteoak. "I'll escort you to the Queen's Seat, if you'd like." He glanced pointedly at the blue baton in her hand. Hyacinth was pleased that he wasn't making a fuss over her bearing the symbol of royal authority.
"Yes, thank you. I'd like that."
Hyacinth took a deep breath and walked down into the Council chamber with Timothy at her side looking handsome and confident. The Council chamber was a shallow ampitheater, with Council positions arranged in a wide circle around an open space that was used for speeches or presentation of important ants. Behind and above the inner circle was the middle ring, where those who advised or assisted the councilants could stand behind their respective masters. The larger outer circle, highest of all, was for observers. Today the outer circle was crowded with those who had come to listen to Whiteoak's speech on food allotments or hear Colonel Shellblower's story or both. The Queen's Seat was similar to a councilant position, but was larger and more ornate, and raised on a disk of polished wood. Hyacinth tried to seat herself as if she had done it all her life, though she was very nervous. She could feel her wings quivering and hoped no one noticed. Captain Timothy took a position to one side and slightly behind the Queen's Seat.
Head Councilant Mesquite nodded to Hyacinth as she took the Queen's Seat. If he showed any surprise at seeing her with the Baton instead of the queen, he did not show it. Hyacinth saw that others were less at ease, for many uncertain glances were turned her way. Some were friendly, others more reserved. When Whiteoak decided to acknowledge the princess his manner was cordial, but his eyes were cold.
Mesquite rapped a small hand-stone against the stone podium before his position. "The Crown is present. Let's begin with the task at hand." He turned to Mallow. "Please give us your report, Colonel Mallow."
For the first time Hyacinth noticed Mallow Shellblower, sitting behind the unoccupied chair of Curry Toothwort. He seemed much slimmer than when she had last seen him, and older. He clutched a cane in one hand, and his face was drawn and serious. For a moment their eyes met. Hyacinth thought she saw a twinkle there, a sign that the old Mallow who delighted her mother at dinners was not yet lost.
Mallow rose from his position and moved tiredly to stand before Toothwort's vacant position. Someone brought him a leaf-padded stone for a seat, and he gratefully accepted it. Mallow told his tale again, recounting the journey to West River, the loss of Councilant Toothwort and Aspen Sandcrawler to bandits, and the wound to his leg in the fighting. At this point there was much anger and tears in the chamber, for many had not yet heard of Curry's end. After a time, Mallow continued, telling of how he had limped into West River and sought out a patrol which took him into the enemy colony as a captive. He told of his long days in prison and his conversations with the guard Oliver. When he came to Basil Harvestwatcher and their escape, there were many questions, but finally all were satisfied with his report.
"Colonel Mallow," Councilant Mesquite began. "We must be very clear on one point, that at no time did West River express interest in your mission. Would you say this is true?" Heads nodded, for indeed that was the main point. Would there be a break in the fighting?
"Sir, I met with only one official, the fellow who interrogated me. He may have been a councilant, but he never identified himself. He was a rude customer, and wouldn't answer my questions or listen to my mission. He insisted I had come to spy on their colony. I asked him to backtrack my trail for proof of my companions and our encounter with the bandits, but I suspect he did not. I later learned from a guard that that the fellow was citing my capture as evidence of how well they patrol their borders. I can only report the fellow was not interested in anything I had to say."
The chamber was silent as Mallow's words sunk in. Then everyone began to talk at once. The news dismayed the council and their assistants. Curry's idea to stop hostilities long enough to discuss peace had solicited no interest in West River. All knew what this meant-- they could not look forward to an end to fighting and fear.
"My friends!" Whiteoak said, his long petal-cloak sweeping behind him as strode to the middle of the room. Discussion died down as ants began to turn to him. "My friends, Councilant Curry's mission has failed. We now know attempts at conciliation with West River are futile. Their queen does not desire peace. Do they not raid our borders? Have they not twice assaulted our colony? They seek nothing less than the total destruction of our people, the death of our--"
"That's not true!" Mallow shouted as he stood up. There were looks of surprise and general murmuring throughout the chamber. Several ants stood up and shouted their agreement with Whiteoak. Others began yelling at them. In no time the chamber was reduced to chaos.
Mesquite Hightunnel rapped his stone against the podium three times. "Order. Order please." Mesquite had been as shaken by the mission's outcome as everyone else, but it was his task to keep the discussion orderly and focused. He rapped his stone several more times. When everyone had settled down, he spoke again. "I ask everyone to please restrain your outbursts or I will have the chamber cleared." When the noise had subsided, Mesquite nodded to Whiteoak. Councilant Whiteoak was senior to Colonel Shellblower, so Mesquite gave him the floor. "Sir, you may continue."
Whiteoak turned to the Head Council. "If the good Mallow wishes to contribute something to this session, I have no objections."
Heads nodded. Everyone thought that very gracious of Whiteoak. Mesquite nodded. "Very well. Please enlighten us, Colonel Shellblower."
Mallow leaned on his stick, favoring his bad leg. "It is simply not true that West River is out to destroy us. While imprisoned I had much time to speak with my guards. All of these lads opposed the war to varying degrees. Indeed, the guard named Oliver believed in my mission so much that he went to great personal efforts to try and get my case heard with his superiors. He risked his own position to do this."
"My dear colonel," Whiteoak interrupted, shaking his head sadly. "You are renowned for your military tricks. Do you not think West River capable of their own cleverness? The prison guard told you exactly what you wanted to hear. I submit that you were meant to hear such talk, just as you were meant to escape. Did you not say your cell mate was captured soon after you emerged from the tunnels? Of course he was captured! I submit that Harvestwatcher never meant to leave West River at all. Clearly he was put in your cell to facilitate just such a plan. You were duped, my dear colonel."
Mallow's mouth opened to protest, but Whiteoak never gave him the chance. He turned and addressed the Council. "My friends, West River saw an opportunity to use our comrad against us. They want us to believe their morale is suffering. They want us to think they are tired of conflict. It is nothing more than a trick to lure us into a false sense of security!"
"No!" Mallow said. "You weren't there, you don't know these ants! They're good people, no different from--"
Whiteoak whirled on him with eyebrow raised. "Are you saying it is impossible that they might have tricked you?"
"I'm saying that they are honest ants who were just--"
"Please answer my question. Is it possible that they might have tricked you?"
Mallow hesitated. Everyone in the chamber was looking at him. He thought over his experience. Young Oliver had no duplicity in him; Mallow was as certain as if the lad were his own son. And Mallow himself had to convince Basil Harvestwatcher that escape was possible. He was certain he hadn't been set up, yet to state in Council that it was absolutely impossible would be brash and against Mallow's code. In truth it was possible, though unlikely. Whiteoak had trapped him. "It's possible, but--"
"Yes, and no one could fault you given the situation," Whiteoak soothed. "We are all pleased by your return, and your service has been a shining example."
Before Whiteoak could continue, everyone's attention was drawn to old Daisy Toothwort rising unsteadily from her seat, leaning on her cane. She looked over the entire Council, her expression sour. "This talk of a trick is nonsense," Daisy said. "Mallow escaped because he's not a fool, and that's all there is to it. We should be thanking him instead of making excuses for him. You should all be ashamed." Daisy paused to glare at Whiteoak. "I nominate Mallow Shellblower for Councilant, to replace our beloved Curry!"
Noise in the chamber began to rise again as many tried to add their opinions. Technically Daisy couldn't nominate anybody, not being a Councilant herself, but as the matriarch of the powerful Toothwort family, the Council couldn't ignore her. They didn't object to the breach of protocol since several Councilants owed their position to Daisy's influence and would have made the nomination if asked. Besides, Daisy tended to be contrary, and no one wanted to rile her.
Mallow blinked in surprise while old Daisy resumed her seat. Serve on the Council? Take Curry's place? He believed no one could replace Curry Toothwort, yet Whiteoak vexed Mallow, and being on the Council would give him the opportunity to oppose him and continue old Curry's work. He guessed there would be others nominated, and the situation would have to be decided by a vote of the councilants and the queen.
Councilant Foxtail Lightkeeper turned to Hyacinth and said loudly, "I would hear the Crown's opinion on this matter." Following his lead, several ants nodded or said the same, while others began to voice their views.
The light-hearted Foxtail was being formal, but Hyacinth saw the softness in his eyes. She wanted to bless him, since until now none of the councilants had taken much notice of her. Her mother would never be so ignored. Hyacinth believed the council position needed to be filled soon, since important matters weighed on the colony. She opened her mouth to say just that, but her voice was drowned out as others spoke out on the subject. Hyacinth was shocked. No one had ever spoken over her mother in Council. Soon the entire chamber was so filled with everyone's opinion that all order was lost. Mesquite was reaching for his stone when Whiteoak's powerful voice cut through the disturbance.
"Councilants, loyal servants of the Colony," Whiteoak declared, gesturing first to one side of the hall then the other, "I grieve for the loss of Curry Toothwort. He was a great leader and a friend to all. With respect to the Toothwort family's suggestion, I say it would be wrong to replace Curry's chair so soon after his fall. Doubtless Colonel Shellblower would serve us well, but let us wait a respectful time before making such an emotion-charged decision. Let us vote on the Feast of Founding!"
Cheers of approval broke out in the Council chamber. It did seem inappropriate to replace Curry so soon upon news of his death, and there were those who believed putting another soldier on the Council would divert even more of the colony's already diluted resources to military efforts. For many present, replacing a member on the anniversary of the colony's founding struck a patriotic note. The Councilants counsulted with their advisors and decided that the vote would wait until the Feast.
Hyacinth sat submissively in the Queen's Seat as powerful emotions rocked her. Many times she had sat at her mother's side in Council, and always either her mother or Mesquite had preserved order. Hyacinth did not understand what had happened. Whiteoak had not only seen that she had no say on the subject, but had imposed his own order on the Council and smoothly taken back control of the voting issue. The princess had never felt so helpless in her entire life. Did she not sit in the Queen's Seat? Did she not have the Baton? She thought of her mother lying in her chamber, her hopes pinned on her youngest daughter. The princess fought back tears as she realized she had failed her mother's trust.
Discussions in the chamber continued but Hyacinth did not hear them. After a moment she became conscious that someone was speaking to her. She looked up as Timothy reached out to touch her arm. "Princess? Are you all right?"
"I--Yes. I'm sorry. I--I don't feel well."
Timothy left her side for a moment to go and speak with Mesquite. She saw the Head Council nod and say something. Timothy was soon back. "Would you like me to escort you to your chamber? It's late, and the Head Council says nothing more will be done today anyway."
Hyacinth nodded and gave Timothy her hand. She did feel weak and wanted to be gone from the Council chamber as soon as possible. The young captain led her down from the chair and took her out the nearest exit, minimizing attention to her departure. As they left the chamber, Hyacinth glanced back over her shoulder to find Whiteoak looking her way. Was that amusement on his face? Before she could be sure, Timothy had led her out into the adjoining passage. They passed a few curious faces as he led her along the tunnel toward Victory Hall, where they would turn toward the royal chambers. But when they reached the great Hall, Hyacinth stopped.
"I think I'd like to walk outside for a while." She patted Timothy's hand. "Thank you so much."
"Princess, maybe you should see Dr. Ragweed," Timothy suggested, his face full of concern. "I'd be happy to take you to the infirm--"
"Oh no, thank you. I'll be fine. I just.... I need a little fresh air, that's all. I'll be fine."
"Let me arrange a guard to go with--"
"No, please Timothy," Hyacinth told him, recovering her composure. "I'll just be a little while. It was very stuffy in there. I'll be fine, really. Thank you so much."
Timothy backed off and looked at her. Whatever he thought, he did not say. After a moment he sighed and nodded. "All right. But be careful your Highness."
Hyacinth squeezed the young captain's hand before releasing it. "You be careful tomorrow Timothy. Come back to us safely."
After passing out of Queen's Gate and into the open, Hyacinth wandered aimlessly. She passed workers returning from their long day in the harvest grounds, but in the waning light they did not recognize her or take notice of her tell-tale wings. Hyacinth walked until Sun's light was orange and fading fast. In time she came to a place where clover grew low and close over the ground, interspersed with small colorful wildflowers possessing delicate scents. She paused. Something familiar about the place cut through Hyacinth's anguish. She had played here as a child. Stepping into the wildflowers she pulled a leaf aside and found the old snail shell.
Once the shell had been the colony's great warning horn, but it had become aged and fragile after years exposed to Sun's light. The colony had long since discarded it for newer ones made by the Shellblower family. Hyacinth walked around the old horn, touching it. The horn was still taller than she was, yet seemed so much smaller than she remembered it. The princess recalled hide-and-seek games where she and others had hidden inside. In the summer the shell was very warm and pleasant, though the young ants had always came out dirty. Hyacinth peered in the ragged opening, but could see nothing in the failing light under the wildflowers. Her antennae sensed soil and decaying bits of leaves but no danger. She climbed inside. The interior was dirty and smelled of earth, but the floor was soft and the memories welcoming.
Hyacinth sat on the loose earth. She looked out the shell's entrance as the last light departed behind distant hills. The day's events left her confused and sick. The incident in Council showed her mother's trust to be misplaced. Hyacinth had shamed the Crown before the entire Council. She had been no more effective than May-Blossom would have been, perhaps less, since being older and taller May was a more recognized figure. Hyacinth did not have her mother's presence or her sister's stature. No one would listen to her. How could she help May be queen?
West River did not want peace. Mallow may not have been tricked, but they still had not listened to him, and that was all that mattered. Another raiding party would leave tomorrow, and the fighting would go on and on until they no longer had the resources to fight West River and contend with the troubles all colonies faced. Though it was a secret known only to the Crown and Council, Hyacinth knew East River had fewer ants now than when she was born. She did not have a military mind, but the situation was easy to understand. Too many ants were assigned to defense, and too few to gathering food. East River was in decline.
The princess thought of the others who had come before her, from Caranda to her own mother. They all seemed so strong. She cursed the fate that had made May simple. She cursed the fate that made herself small and weak. Above all she cursed the sickness that was killing her mother.
Hyacinth accepted that truth. Her mother was not going to get better. She would die, and die soon. There would be no more comforting hugs, and no more long talks into the night, and Hyacinth would be left alone to protect her sister and deal with West River and stand up to a ant who could twist the Council as he wished and make even Mallow Shellblower say what he wanted.
Hyacinth's head bowed until her antennae brushed something in her hand. The royal baton. In despair she flung it away and began to cry. Oh mother mother please no, please don't die, please don't leave me I can't do it I can't! Hyacinth's head fell forward until her antennae were pressed into the dirt of the shell's floor. Helplessly she sobbed on into the night until, completely exhausted, she collapsed into the litter and slept.
The morning song of a robin woke Hyacinth. For a time she did not know where she was. The air was chill and her bed strange. An odd glow surrounded her. She lifted her head and saw that the glow was the morning light filtering through the old sun-bleached snail shell. Memory of her surroundings came back to her. The soil beneath her was warm and she was reluctant to enter the cool air outside, but she pushed herself to sit upright and peered out of the shell. Outside the day was chill and grey, but Sun was rising and the chill would soon pass.
Hyacinth left the shell and began shoving through the wildflowers toward the path. She stumbled on something. Looking down she found the royal baton lying on the sandy soil. She picked it up and stared at it, as if it had no meaning. It felt cool and damp from the night air, and she realized she was thirsty. Dew glistened from nearby leaves. She selected a drop and drank deeply.
By now she would be missed in the colony. May-Blossom would know she didn't come home to their chambers last night, which meant the queen would know of her absence. Hyacinth felt a great need to go home and hold May, but she did not want to face anyone yet. She was ashamed for having fled the colony last night, and uncertain how she would explain herself to the queen. She decided she would walk a while, and maybe something would suggest itself.
Hyacinth began to wander back toward the colony. But instead of making for Queen's Gate, she took another path that climbed up into the tall weathered mass of stone East River knew as the Heights, the dominant feature of the rock formation which sheltered the colony. She moved quietly and inconspicuously as she climbed. Sentries were posted on the Heights, and she did not want anyone to find her and ask embarrassing questions. Hyacinth followed the sandy path as it twisted steeply up between broken rocks. She came upon the side path to her favorite look-out onto the West, a small dusty ledge under a short tattered weed. The sentry stations were placed higher, so soldiers rarely stopped here.
Sun was well up but had not yet cleared the Heights behind her. Long shadows stretched out west toward the river canyon. Hyacinth looked beyond the canyon to where the land began to merge with the horizon. Sun's heat had not yet blurred the landscape, and she could see the green grassy region where a soldier once told her West River lay. Morning mists lingered over the cool damp grasses, obscuring details.
Hyacinth thought about the people beneath that distant patch of green. Over thirty thousand ants, according to East River's scouts. Five times more ants than her own colony. Hyacinth imagined the people living there and felt her frustration rising. Why must you fight us? Why didn't you listen to Mallow? How could your queen do this? Hyacinth's mother had told her she had a counterpart in West River called Anise, though the information was very secret and she could not speak of it even to May-Blossom. More than anything concerning West River, Hyacinth yearned to know more about Anise. What if the two princesses met? Would we talk of favorite scents? Would we laugh as we shared stories of growing up in the royal chambers? Would we be friends? Tears blurred Hyacinth's view of the other colony as she thought of happy events that might have been, that could be yet. Why won't you talk with us?
Movement below her position distracted the princess. She looked down to see a body of ants marching west from the colony in a long silent column. It was the raiding party that would strike West River's harvesting areas the following day. Hyacinth wondered which ant in the group was Timothy. They must have risen even before me, she thought. It bothered her to think of the soldiers preparing for a dangerous raid while their princess spent the night in a fit of self-pity in a forgotten snail shell. She should be down there now, seeing the soldiers off and lifting their morale.
The princess looked again toward West River. Could Mallow and Whiteoak both be right? Maybe most people in that patch of green were just as sick of the war as East River, but a few of their leaders wanted to see the fighting continue. Was it not the same here? Hyacinth could speculate, but she needed to know. It occured to her that Night Bird would know.
Hyacinth thought about Whiteoak. People listened to him. He was a good orator, but he was also very well informed. Hyacinth had walked into the Council chamber completely uninformed. She realized her mother would have found a way to hear Mallow's briefing before the Council did. She would have known Whiteoak's main interests. She would have initiated the discussion on poor dead Curry's seat, not waited to react to it. Hyacinth knew the real decisions were made behind closed leaves, not in the Council, yet she had ingenuously walked in and taken the Queen's Seat, expecting her opinion to be sought out like her mother's.
The princess looked at the smooth baton in her hand, now as dirty as she was. "I'm sorry, little blue stick." she said. "I misunderstood you. You represent power, but you can't grant it. I will not throw you again."