Her own azi climbed out, none hesitating, with rifles and what gear they had; weary as they were, she looked on them with some hope. “We’re going to fight for a hive,” she said. “For blue-hive, our own, back in the city. We have to go among them; into it, if we can. Stay, if that’s too much for you.”
She started walking . . . knew Merry, at least, would join her. He was there, at once, and hardly slower, the others, filthy, sorry-looking men; she looked back, and not one had stayed. The Tel estate azi were on their heels, plain by their clean clothing and their energy. In the rear, the managers and the domestics trailed along, perhaps reckoning now they were safer not to be left in the deserted buildings.
They climbed, pushing aside the high weeds, finding trails overgrown and forgotten in the hills. “Majat trails,” she said to Merry. “Abandoned ones.”
“Blue-hive?”
“Better be.”
Something urged at her hearing. She kept her eyes to the high rocks, the folds of the land.
A majat warning boomed out. She spun left; rifles jerked about, hovered unfired on the person of a Warrior, testament to azi discipline. She turned her fist to it, that stood against the sky.
“Meth-maren,” it intoned.
“Warrior, you’re too far for my eyes. Come closer.”
It shifted forward, a blue beyond doubt. Others appeared out of the rocks, jaws clicking with excitement.
“Here are azi of my-hive,” she said. “They’ve held the valley till now; now they’ll fight where needed.”
It lowered itself, offered touch and taste, and she took and gave it, moving carefully lest some new azi take alarm. “Good, good,” it pronounced then. “Mother sends. Come, come quick, Kethiuy-queen. Bring, bring, bring.”
She looked back; none who followed had fled; none offered to go back now. Warrior danced with impatience and she touched Merry’s arm and started after it, following the devious ways it led, over stone and through brush.
Suddenly the hive gaped before them, a dark pit, seeming void of defense; but Warriors materialised out of the weeds, the stones of the hills, boiled out from the darkness. She hesitated not at all, hearing their guide boom a response to them; and one Warrior touched her—by that move, one who knew her personally.
“Warrior?” she asked it.
“This-unit guides. Come. Come, bring azi.”
Blue lights bobbed in the pit. She went without question toward them, Merry beside her, others close at her heels. The darkness enveloped them, and majat-azi scampered just ahead, wretched creatures who no longer laughed, but stumbled and faltered with exhaustion. Blue light ran chaotically over the walls, showing them the way. Warrior-song shrilled in the dark.
And the majat-azi touched her, urged her on, breathlessly, faster and faster. “Mother,” they cried, “Mother, Mother, Mother.”
Raen gasped for air and kept moving, stumbling on the uneven floor, catching herself against the rough walls.
All at once the blue lights were not sufficient. Vast darkness breathed about them, and they streamed along the midst of it. A great pale form loomed ahead, that dragged itself painfully before them, huge, filling all the tunnel.
It was Mother, who moved.
Who heaved Herself along the tunnel prepared for Her vast bulk. The walls echoed with Her breathing. About Her were small majat who glittered with jewels; and before Her moved a dark heaving flood of bodies, dotted with azi-lights.
Majat-language boomed and shrilled in the tunnel, deafening. And, terrible in its volume, came Her voice, which vibrated in the earth.
Raen gathered herself and passed beside that great body, moving faster than ever Mother could. There was room, barely, that she and the men with her could avoid the sweep of Mother’s limbs, that struggled with even thrusts to drive Her vast body along, at every rumbling intake of Her breath.
“I am here!” Raen cried
“Kethiuy-queen,” She answered. The great head did not turn, could not; Mother remained fixed upon Her goal
“Am I welcome, Mother? Where are you going?”
“I go,” Mother said simply, and the earth quivered with the moving of Her. Air sucked in-again. “I go. Haste. Haste, young queen.”
Anxiety overwhelmed her. She increased her pace, moving now among the Drones, whose chittering voices hurt her ears.