When Hyacinth returned to the colony and entered the busy Victory Hall, May-Blossom ran up and threw her arms about her smaller sister. May was beside herself with a mix of worry and relief, since Hyacinth had not returned to their chambers the previous night. While not entirely unusual for Hyacinth, May was inconsolable when it happened. Hyacinth knew May was inclined to worry, and reprimanded herself for being so thoughtless.
"I'm so sorry, May. I should have told you. I'm sorry, I won't do it again." Other ants were staring at them, but Hyacinth didn't care.
"Oh I hope not! I was so frightened that something might have eaten you and I would never hear you sing again. Will you sing for me tonight?"
"I'd be happy to." They often talked into the night before sleeping, and sometimes Hyacinth would sing to May.
May released her sister and clapped her hands, her worries forgotten. She loved to hear Hyacinth sing. In her opinion, Hyacinth was the best singer in the colony. "I wish it was night now."
"How is Mother?"
"Oh she's fine. She's still sick, but she'll be better soon. I told her you were gone, but she said not to worry, you're like that, and you'll be back in the morning. And she was right! I'm so glad you're back." May-Blossom paused and looked puzzled for a moment.
"What is it, May?"
"Oh, it's just there's something I need to tell you, but I can't remember it just now." Her face brightened. "It'll come back to me soon."
Out of the corner of her eye Hyacinth saw Lavender Riverside approaching through the crowd. Lavender was Chief of the Granary, and not one of Hyacinth's favorite people. She wanted to draw May away, but Lavender was soon upon them.
"How lucky!" Lavender declared to Hyacinth, ignoring May-Blossom. "I was just thinking, how nice it would be to see you again, and here you are!" She looked down at Hyacinth. It wasn't that Lavender was very tall, she just had a way of looking down at people. "My dear, I simply must have your thoughts. You will support Councilant Whiteoak's proposal, won't you?"
Hyacinth sought sanctuary in ignorance. "What proposal is that, Mrs. Riverside?" May tried to slip away, but Hyacinth caught her hand and held it while managing to smile at Lavender.
"Why, the one concerning pebble-tokens for food, of course! Surely you're familiar with it? It's only the most important issue facing us at the moment!"
"I'm afraid I have only just learned of it. I'll certainly give it the attention it deserves."
Lavender wasn't sure what to make of that. "Well, see that you do. People are simply not getting their fair share of food, so it's very important that we adopt Councilant Whiteoak's proposal. We're lucky to have him on the Council, don't you agree?"
"Oh yes, Mrs. Riverside. Very lucky."
"Well, I must be going now. I'm a very busy ant. Some of us have important things to do and can't spare any time for dawdling about." As she spoke, Lavender threw a patronizing glance at May-Blossom.
Hyacinth managed to say "Good-bye, Mrs. Riverside," as the granary chief departed, but inside she was seething at Lavender's condescending attitude toward May. It wasn't that May-Blossom was stupid, she just wasn't clever. She could think on only one thing at a time, and complexities were beyond her. May often missed subtleties in conversation, and some people took advantage of this when talking to her, saying things they knew May would never understand and laughing about it later. Hyacinth hated this, knowing it to be a way of making fun of May, but there was little she could could do. It also wasn't unusual for people to make unkind comments behind May's back. Once she and Timothy Flintspur had both overheard an evil remark by Lilly Sandduster, Whiteoak's daughter. Timothy had become very cross and spoke angrily to Lilly, something Hyacinth had never seen him do before. Hyacinth knew that May was sometimes aware when people were making fun of her, but her sister rarely showed the pain she must feel.
Why were some people so cruel to May-Blossom? May never spoke ill of anyone. She was shy of people who frightened or made fun of her, but she was always ready to befriend those who came to her. People said Hyacinth was beautiful, but Hyacinth thought May far lovelier. Her sister was much taller and fairer in color, and had long sweeping antennae where Hyacinth's were tightly curled, much to her annoyance. May's wings were longer and more beautiful, though she rarely used them. Her lack of coordination had taught her to move slowly, which ironically lent her a surprising grace.
May-Blossom also had a great gift-- she could make images better than anyone else in the colony. Whether it be drawings on rocks, paintings on leaves, or patterns cut into leaves, May was peerless. She did her art effortlessly and without ego. It didn't matter who was near or what the circumstances, May could always create something beautiful. She took particular joy in teaching these things to young ants, and was never impatient with them. Hyacinth envied May-Blossom her great patience, even if some mistook it for 'dawdling'.
As Hyacinth watched Lavender depart haughtily, a young page working for the Council came running up to the two princesses. "Excuse me, Highnesses." His eyes darted between the two sisters, uncertain who should he should address. He finally settled on Hyacinth. "Highness, Councilant Mesquite requests the presence of your company in his chambers at your convenience."
May-Blossom's eyes widened. "Oh! That was it! That's what I was forgetting. I saw Mesquite just a little while ago, and that's just exactly what he said. See? I did remember!"
The private chamber of Mesquite Hightunnel was not large, but it was comfortable and well-furnished. Four seats of fresh grassblades padded with moss surrounded a low table made from a section of acorn topped by a wide flat stone. The walls were covered with leaf-paintings made by Mesquite's grandchildren. What Hyacinth liked best was the chamber's floor. Where most colony rooms had floors of hard-packed dirt, Mesquite's chamber was covered in a layer of fresh loamy soil, swept out and replaced every week. Hyacinth ignored the chairs and seated herself in cross-legged fashion on the cushion-like floor, where the scent was rich and delightful. She cradled the royal baton in her lap.
"I envy you," Mesquite said. "I would sit down there myself, but these old limbs no longer bend that way." The old councilant was seated in a chair opposite the table from Hyacinth. A few leaf-scrolls filled with colony business lay scattered before him.
Hyacinth patted the soft fresh soil. "Tell me again, where this custom comes from?"
"Mmm. Termites. Years ago my wife and I traveled to the Termite city far to the east of here. We traveled a lot in those days. You wouldn't believe a termite city-- termites are very civilized. They consider it unthinkable to have cold bare hard floors. Even the least affluent termites have fresh floors like this. We ants like to think of ourselves as advanced insects, but compared to termites, we're just bugs living in collective hovels. Did you know termites even condition their air?"
Hyacinth shook her head. "No, I didn't."
"They do. Their engineers design their cities so air circulates through them. They explained it to me, something about how warm air likes to be higher than cool air; I didn't really follow. But temperature in a termite city is always constant. Bee hives are like that too, but bees do it the hard way with brute labor, moving air around with their wings. Anyway, I can't re-build East River, but I can keep my chamber like a civilized bug."
Although seated on the floor of Mesquite's chamber, Hyacinth was far away, imagining the great city-mounds of termites, teaming with hundreds of thousands of inhabitants. She wished she could set aside her cares, spread her wings, and fly away to a termite city and see their wonders. But her mother was dying, and her sister was soon to be queen and needed her help. The royal baton seemed heavy in her lap, and she carefully placed it on the moss-covering of a nearby chair.
"Let's see that thing." Mesquite said, holding out his hand across the table for the blue rod.
Hyacinth hesitated. The Baton was given to her safe-keeping, and it was a thing of royalty and responsibility. But Mesquite was head of the Council, and there was no one more responsible save only her mother. She gave him the baton.
Mesquite turned the blue rod over in his hands, examining it. "It's a pretty thing, isn't it?" he said. "So polished and clean and blue like the sky. Very like your color, now that I think on it. I've always thought of your mother when I see this thing, never had cause to associate it with anyone else." He looked at the diminutive princess seated on his floor, his eyes piercing. "That will change soon, won't it?"
"Yes."
"That's the way of things." He tossed the blue baton carelessly onto the floor beside Hyacinth. She gasped at a councilant's rough handling of the colony's most important heirloom. Mesquite noticed her surprise. "What's on your mind?" he asked.
"I just thought, it's very old, I would not treat it so," said Hyacinth. Too late she remembered her own treatment of the baton the previous evening.
"Did its age help you yesterday in Council?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"It's just a stick."
The old ant nodded. "It's just a stick, and can be easily replaced. What it represents cannot." He chuckled. "Besides, it's probably not even Caranda's original baton."
Hyacinth looked up in surprise. "It's not?"
"Hmm? Oh, I thought you knew. A princess should know these things. Caranda got the original stick on the exodus from West River, during that first river crossing. They say she crossed on foot with her followers rather than fly. The riverbed wasn't quite dry, and she fell in the muddy crossing. A child gave her a stick to help her with the rest of the way. By the time they crossed the river canyon, Caranda's stick was covered in the same nasty wet blue clay that got all over everybody who made that journey. The story tells that once on the far side, somebody offered Caranda a nice clean stick for walking, but she refused it, keeping the child's gift instead. So people came to associate it with her." Mesquite laughed. "I'll wager it was handy for waving at people who got in her way."
Hyacinth grinned, thinking of how the founder of East River might brandish her stick in the face of some annoying Sandduster of her time. "I've heard that story, but you said this isn't the same stick?"
"I said it's probably not the same stick. Most people think it is, but our historian doubts it, and I agree with him. This one's much too short to be of help on a journey, though it may have been trimmed down some. There's another story that tells of how when Caranda was old, she got angry at some councilant and broke it over his thick head. Somebody made her up another one, a shorter one painted blue, which might be that one there. Knowning what I know of Caranda, I believe that story."
"Anyway," he continued, "It's unwise to assign too much value to things, even royal batons. Besides, I have the softest and best floor in the colony, and I knew it wouldn't hurt it," he added, winking at her.
Hyacinth wanted to laugh, but mention of councilants brought memories of the previous day's events flooding back. She sighed and shook her head slowly. "I was such a fool yesterday. I thought I could walk into that room with this blue stick and all those people would suddenly want my thoughts and advice. I was worried that I would do the right things, make the right difference; it never occured to me I would make no difference at all."
Mesquite shrugged. "What happened yesterday? Nothing," he said. "Whiteoak preached, Mallow told his tale, there was talk of replacing Curry, and that was it. There was no need for royal intervention. You've sat with your mother in Council often enough-- I've seen you do it many times. You know she listens far more than she speaks."
"Yes, you're right," Hyacinth said. "But I went in knowing nothing. I didn't know all the details of Curry's mission. I don't know a thing about West River. I didn't know what I should ask of Colonel Mallow. I don't know how the Councilants will vote on this or that." She stopped talking and picked up the baton, feeling its smoothness. She looked up at the old ant who had been head of the Council for as long as she could remember. "But I can learn."
Mesquite clasped his hands together before him and stared for some time across the table at the princess. Finally, he nodded. "Very good. You may amount to something yet."
To most ants Mesquite's comment would seem rudely patronizing, but Hyacinth knew the old ant had just given her one of his rarest compliments. She said nothing, but smiled, warmed by his words.
"Listen," Mesquite said. "Your presence is less important than your judgement. That is what your mother wants of you. May-Blossom will soon carry that blue stick, not you. We both know May-- she'll want to make the right decisions, but she needs to make informed decisions. That will be your job. May's desire to do good things will make her hard to subvert, but only if she's informed and confident she's doing the right thing. You need to give her that confidence. Your mother worries, but I think the two of you could be a very strong combination."
"I believe in May," Hyacinth said.
"Good. Make sure you believe in yourself while you're at it. If you lack confidence, May will sense it and be indecisive. Others will jump on that like a gang of wolf spiders. A good ruler must always appear confident and bring out the confidence in others. Confidence comes from experience though, so don't expect to pick it up all at once."
Hyacinth nodded. "There's so much to learn."
"I know. Relax, and try not to worry about it. Your mother's no fool. She's worked for a long time to prepare you for this. I know you-- when you're calm, you'll remember what she's taught you, and you'll know what to do."
"Yes," Hyacinth said, remembering her thoughts this morning. "Yes, thank you."
"One more thing," Mesquite said. "You can always come to me. I may not tell you what you want to hear. I may not tell you anything. I'll certainly not tell you what to do; plenty of others will do that for me. But you'll always be welcome here, to talk, or rest, or admire the marvelous works of my grandchildren," he said, gesturing at the pictures clearly done by very young ants.
Hyacinth did not know how to reply to his gesture. They both knew her mother would soon be gone, and though Hyacinth loved May dearly, May's understanding of her problems and stress was not the same. She was deeply grateful to Mesquite who was, in essence, welcoming her into his family. "Thank you," she said simply.
Mesquite got to his feet. "Now then, I'd like to say that I invited you here for this cozy little chat, but in fact it was our friend Colonel Mallow who suggested we meet. It seems he's recalled a few things that somehow slipped his mind in Council yesterday. So, seeing as how you're now here, if you'll excuse me, I'll go fetch him."
While the old councilant left to find Mallow, Hyacinth's eyes wandered about the room, mostly taking in the crude but colorful leaf-paintings that adorned the walls. She was surprised to discover one of the leaves depicted a small winged blue ant with curled antennae flying over several yellow and white flowers. It could only be herself, for May's antennae did not curl.
Near the painting Hyacinth noticed a small hallway that must lead to Mesquite's more private chambers. Hyacinth could not remember how long it had been since Mesquite's mate had died, but she recalled the two were very close. Despite her affection for May-Blossom, Hyacinth spent a great deal of time alone, wandering about the colony or neighboring areas. It was a habit that caused May to worry, and vexed those unlucky soldiers assigned to protect Hyacinth only to have her apologize and fly off to wander the world alone. Hyacinth wondered what it would be like to love someone as Mesquite had, and wander the world with a companion.
She did not have long to think on these things. Mesquite soon returned with Colonel Mallow. Seeing Mallow limp into the chamber, Hyacinth could not help but smile, recalling the wildly entertaining stories he often told at her mother's dinner parties. She got up and greeted him. "Mallow, I am so pleased to see you back and well!"
"Ah, Highness, you are lovelier than ever!" Mallow said, kneeling briefly despite his bad leg. No one actually knelt to royalty except in old stories, but Mallow was a romantic and loved to employ the old traditions when it suited some dramatic mood. It was part of his style.
"Oh stop," Hyacinth said, liking him. She blushed as Mesquite looked on. "I am not even a queen."
"Yes, but there's been many a queen less queenly," Mallow said. "It's the Tallgrass in you. Your father's family are an elegant bunch, that's for sure. Take for example Redrock Tallgrass, your father's brother. As old as he is, he still cuts quite a dashing figure. Why I remember when--"
Mesquite cleared his throat impatiently. He knew well that Mallow would happily tell stories all day, but there were important matters to discuss. He indicated for Mallow to take a seat before seating himself. "Colonel Mallow, I don't mean to be rude, but you said you had a few additional observations worthy of mention."
"Ah, yes, so I did." Mallow selected one of the moss-padded chairs and eased himself into it. Hyacinth wanted to return to her place on the soft floor, but thought it would be un-princessly, so she also sat in one of the plush chairs.
With a glance at the leaf-covered entrance to Mesquite's chamber, Mallow began to speak in a lowered voice. "I'm afraid I didn't include everything in my report yesterday. One thing in particular, and I thought I'd withhold it since the good Whiteoak would be quick to point out that it's just hearsay. And he'd be right, I daresay, since there's no real proof or evidence of these things. Nevertheless, it struck me as something that might be important, you understand."
"What is it, Mallow?" Hyacinth said, saving Mesquite the annoyance of finding a polite way to tell Mallow to get on with it.
"It's about how that Harvestwatcher fellow, Basil was his name, good lad, came to be in prison with me. He said he was banished from West River for some action that I truly can't seem to recall. He'd been living for some time in a place north of here called Ant Island. Well, one day two West River scouts came to this Island colony to seek an audience with their queen. They were surprised to find Basil alive and well there, and told him his banishment had been lifted and he could return home if he liked. The odd thing was that upon his return, he was immediately thown in prison, which is how I met him."
"Back up a moment," Mesquite said. "You said two West River scouts contacted another colony? For what purpose?"
"Ah yes, indeed that was my main point. According to the Harvestwatcher, they were sent to try to enlist the aid of that colony."
The news clearly unsettled Mesquite. "Great Skies."
"Mallow," Hyacinth said, "What kind of aid were they asking for? Did they meet with the colony's queen? Did she agree to help them?"
"I asked about all that, Highness. The Harvestwatcher lad didn't know, he seemed mostly concerned with his own situation at the time, and justifiably so I might add, poor fellow. Harvestwatchers have never gone in much for politics, you know. But he did say the scouts returned with the Island queen's greetings and some gifts for West River, but no one from that colony came back with them, unless you count the Harvestwatcher lad. He said it's a very small colony. From his talk I believe it may be smaller than our own, though that's pure conjecture, you understand."
Mesquite asked, "Could Whiteoak be right? Could this other prisoner have been telling you lies?"
"I don't think so. The lad wasn't very talkative. He was very disheartened and I had to press him for what little I could learn. He really didn't seem the unscrupulous or devious type, though."
"Where is this other colony, Mallow?" Hyacinth wanted to ask what kind of people they are, and what would they be like. She knew such things were secondary issues, so she controlled her curiosity.
"I'm not certain," Mallow said. "I think they said it was three or four days hard travelling north along the river. The colony's actually on an island in the middle of the river. Quite novel, really."
"Did you get the names of the scouts?" Mesquite asked.
"I did. A lass named Amber, one of the Whiteclouds I believe, and a fellow called Centaury. The Harvestwatcher lad didn't mention Centaury's family, or else I'd remember it."
Mallow paused and stretched out his bad leg. "Speaking of names, I also learned their princess is called Anise, and she may be handling more of her mother's duties than we previously thought. Oliver, one of my guards, was always carefully respectful when he mentioned her, but from what I could gather she must be an unpleasant and unforgiving sort. I think she had something to do with the Harvestwatcher lad being in prison, though I coudn't say why she'd be bothered with him. He didn't seem the sort to be involved in a plot. But if you ask me, that princess is trouble."
Mesquite merely nodded and did not reveal he already knew much of what Mallow was telling him about West River's princess. Hyacinth was careful to appear a little suprised by Mallow's news. She also already knew of Anise. Night Bird had once cautioned them about the princess, but this was the first confirmation of her duties and character. Mallow's independent information now gave them the option of discussing Anise publicly in Council.
Hyacinth turned to Mesquite, "I was thinking about the Ant Island colony. Do you remember the injured grasshopper who stayed with us briefly a while back? Did he not tell us of a small colony to the north? The colony that fought and defeated his master?"
"Yes. And he did say the colony was on an island. Mallow, do you know if other missions set out from West River to seek help in other directions?"
"I tried to discover that, but no one would tell me. I don't think Oliver knew, and he was the most talkative of the guards. I had a long time to think, you understand, and it's my opinion that they probably did send out other scouts in other directions. They didn't appear to have any prior information about the Island colony, so there'd be no reason to select only that direction."
Mallow stopped for a moment, mustering his thoughts. "There's something else you should know," he began. "And this is one of the reasons why I think the Harvestwatcher lad was not deceiving me, as the good Whiteoak would have us think. Do you remember I said the Island colony's queen sent gifts back with the West River scouts? Well, according to my fellow prisoner, one of these gifts was a set of instructions for building a harvesting tool, a tool which allows one ant to do the work of many."
Mesquite leaned forward to peer at the old soldier. "What do you mean, the work of many?"
Mallow flexed his leg, already stiff from sitting. "The lad told me these Islanders have a device of some kind that harvests grain faster and more effectly than any ant can alone. I was told that with the device an ant can easily do the work of five or more in the same period of time."
"That seems unlikely," Mesquite said. "Even the best pry-sticks aren't nearly that effective."
"It's not a pry-stick," Mallow said. "It's a device of some sort. I asked Basil to describe it, but he could only say it was a thing of sticks and stones and thorns. It made no sense, but he swore it was true. He told me that he saw many of these things in use in the Island colony, and they work so well that these Islanders have a great deal of free time and excess food. That convinces me that he was not planted in my cell to deceive me; West River would never have him make up a crazy thing like that; it would discredit him, you understand?"
"I agree, though it might have been a propaganda trick on behalf of the Island queen," Mesquite said. "Perhaps the Harvestwatcher was exaggerating, or making up a story to hold your interest."
"That's possible, but I think the lad was telling the truth, from his point of view at least," Mallow said.
"Hopefully it won't be an issue," Mesquite said. "Mallow, I know you have another engagement soon, but before you go, please give us your impression of West River. I don't mean the physical colony, but the people and their mood."
Mallow took a moment to collect his thoughts. Hyacinth leaned forward, for this greatly interested her. "Yesterday I was about to say they're no different from us," Mallow began, "but I think that's true only on an individual level. They're good people, and they're tired of fighting, that's certain. Oh, there's some hotheads, but most of them are sick of it. Their leadership is faltering, or in transition, and there's a growing sense that the queen doesn't care for them as individuals. They're set in their ways and don't innovate much, unlike us, but that's likely because they have so many resources. Food is plentiful, labor cheap. Their soldiers are reliable, but morale is low and they don't train anywhere near as much as we do. Their commanders spend too much time looking good for the queen and not enough time in the field." Mallow stopped and shrugged. "That's about sums it."
"Why do you think their queen didn't listen to your mission?" Mesquite asked.
"Honestly, I don't think their queen ever learned of my mission, at least in any context other than espionage."
"But how is that possible?" Hyacinth asked. "Wouldn't she at least be curious about you?"
Mallow shook his head. "One might expect so, but remember how much larger West River is than our colony. Their queen would have little time. My capture might have come to her attention, but probably as a minor affair in somebody's report, with no details. She'd have no reason to be curious."
"Some may even have an interest in seeing the war continue," Mesquite said. "They might have believed Mallow, but seen to it that Mallow quietly disappeared."
Mallow nodded. "That's very possible."
Hyacinth was incredulous that anyone would want the fighting to go on. "But why?"
"Personal interest," Mesquite told her. "Maintaining their positions, or a convenient excuse for keeping their thumbs on the lives of others. Wars can be handy. We have a few ambitious individuals like that here. A few may come to mind, if you think on it."
Mesquite got to his feet. "Thank you Mallow. I know your family is throwing a big bash celebrating your return this evening, but I appreciate you taking the time to tell us these things."
"Yes, Colonel Mallow," Hyacinth added, "Thank you so much. It was fascinating."
"I'm honored to be of service, Highness. "Feel free to drop in on my little party, both of you."
When Mallow had left, Mesquite asked Hyacinth, "What do you think?"
"I'm concerned that West River may not be united in wanting to end the war. That very much surprised me. I'm also concerned that they are seeking foreign help against us. I wonder if they would go so far as to contact slavers and outlaws?"
"Some might, though I doubt they'd do it openly."
"What about the Island queen's gift? Do you think such a thing is possible?"
"I hope that was imagination on the part of Mallow's cell-mate," Mesquite replied. "We'd better hope so, because if it's true, they'll be able to put more ants in the field against us as soldiers, and we'll be in a great deal more trouble. A very great deal more trouble."
That evening Hyacinth sat at May-Blossom's bedside and sang softly in the light of May's single mushroom. It was an old ballad, telling of how a soldier, lost in the wilderness after a battle, discovers a beautiful maiden visible only as a reflection in a moonlit puddle. He longs to join her, but her image takes flight when he touches the water, and he spends the rest of his life searching for her. It was one of May's favorites.
"I watched the soldiers leave this morning," May said when the song was finished. "I'm afraid they won't come back."
Privately Hyacinth was surprised that May had been awake to see the raiding party depart in the morning. "Don't worry. Colonel Watershome is leading them, and he is very good."
"I'm still afraid for them."
"I guess I am too."
For a while, neither spoke. Hyacinth was about to get up when May said quietly, "Mother is going to die, isn't she?"
Faced with the one question she hoped May would never ask, Hyacinth had little to say except the hard truth. "Yes," she replied. Hyacinth thought May would burst into tears, but instead her face expressed a look of faraway sadness that reminded Hyacinth of Curry Toothwort.
"I'll have to be queen then, won't I?"
"Yes, May."
May-Blossom lay on her flower-bed for a while, thinking. "I don't want to be queen, but if I must, then I want to be a good queen. I want the fighting to stop, and I don't want people to be hungry. But it frightens me, being queen." May looked up at Hyacinth sitting close by. "Will you help me, Hyacinth?"
"Yes, May. I will help you. Many people will help you."
"I will try to be a good queen." May settled back into her bed and began to drift off, thinking of the soldier and his quest for the maiden in the water.
Hyacinth watched May-Blossom's face relax into sleep. She bent down and kissed her sister's forehead.
"I love you May."
Long after the sun had set and the last light faded from the sky, a lone ant slipped quietly out of Queen's Gate. Unburdened by food or weapons, the ant moved undetected past East River sentries, running quickly and surely along a seldom used path leading toward the river canyon and into the west.