3
Hornet lifted her bribe into the damp air, appraising its detail with all the ardor of a master jeweler. Despite the Geo cluster's middling value, it did not fail to impress. Under the passing lanterns, its water-flecked facets were like sheets of gold speckled with diamonds. Slowly, Hornet rotated the Geo on an invisible axis, appreciating every, gleaming contour.
She had been at this activity for several minutes now, all while maintaining a brisk pace down the cobbled streets of the City. Her blind strides crashed through puddles and divots, only periodically distorting into graceless staggers. Though Hornet had yet to fall, it seemed an encroaching inevitability.
Lurien the Watcher plodded behind her, his mind elsewhere. The amiable rhythm of the rain upon his new umbrella had lulled him into himself. He dwelt on the City's sodden fate, on the King's half-explained machinations, on Hornet's place in the tiresome game of royalty, and on the Vessel's emerging… peculiarities.
At that, Lurien's obligation reared its head, and he checked to ensure that the Vessel was still in tow. No other task had been granted to it, so there was no reason to suspect that the Vessel would stray from its march. Lurien spared only a cursory glance, and of course, the Vessel was still following.
Yet something wasn't quite right.
Lurien looked a second time and let out a snort.
The Vessel was not using its umbrella. In fact, it did not even have the decorum to carry the damn thing.
Worm-like rivulets of rain streaked the Vessel's shell as it dragged the recently-purchased—and fairly-expensive—umbrella down the street. The umbrella's tip scraped over the grates and stones, dislodging pebbles and cutting wakes into the puddles.
"What are you doing?" Lurien blurted, before he could remind himself that there would be no answer. "Use your umbrella. Do not tug it along like a broken branch."
The Vessel raised the umbrella out at arm's length, just as it had done three dozen times before in the umbrella shop. But it made no move to open it.
Lurien allowed a few, barren seconds to pass so that the Vessel might amend its mistake.
But it did not.
"Open your umbrella," Lurien said.
The Vessel pawed vainly at the silken folds.
"Do as I order," he reiterated.
But the Vessel made no more progress.
With a huff, Lurien took the umbrella from the Vessel's grip and unfurled it. He gave it an artful twirl before handing it back. "Hold it over your head," he said wearily. "Use it to block the rain. That is its purpose after all."
The Vessel followed this new, simpler command without difficulty. Its mask peeked out from beneath the gray canopy, already beginning to dry.
And again, Lurien detected something in those featureless eyes. Was it… gratitude?
Certainly not.
Lurien shook his head and turned back to Hornet. Just as he did, the bug-girl let out a muffled shriek and stumbled a dozen steps. In a dance that was equal parts dexterous and harrowing, Hornet avoided crashing face-first into the cobbles. She stabilized herself with outstretched arms and resumed walking as if nothing had happened.
Lurien growled and hastened to Hornet's side. That was one near-miss too many. "Princ—Erm, Hornet, perhaps now is not the ideal time to admire your Geo. You nearly fell."
"I'll be alright," Hornet replied, her gaze still locked on her prize. "My balance is great! Didn't you see?"
"I witnessed you nearly crack your shell like a piece of pottery, if that is your meaning."
"Don't be so scared." Hornet waved dismissively. "I won't fall."
Lurien took a moment to consider his position. Just as the King had warned, Hornet's willfulness was becoming a formidable obstacle. He suspected that harsh words and threats of punishment might coerce the girl into civility but doing so would surely foster resentment. Lurien could not afford to make an enemy of his charge so early in its keeping.
He decided to alter his approach. "Your poise is excellent, this is true. But consider that if the nigh-impossible occurs and you lose your balance, then that Geo might be lost forever. If it were to fall into the sewer, then there would be no recovering it."
Hornet closed her claw around the Geo and pressed it against her chest. "Oh, I didn't think of that."
Lurien allowed himself a moment to bask in diplomatic triumph. "There will be an abundance of time to examine your Geo when we arrive at the Spire. Until then, please watch your step."
Hornet hummed a sort of consent and stowed the Geo chunk in a hidden pocket within her cloak.
For three enchanting minutes, the trio walked in quiet and safety. Lurien was tempted to allow his thoughts to drift once more, but from the fidget in Hornet's stride, it seemed she required distraction.
"So, Hornet," Lurien began, before a subject had even occurred to him. "You are… unfamiliar with Geo, yes? Is today truly the first time that you have laid eyes upon it?"
Hornet took up an awkward, sideways walk, so that she might face Lurien and the far-off Spire at the same time. "Yes, I was surprised at how pretty it was. It's such a strange kind of rock."
"A rock? Though that is true in the technical sense, Geo is in fact a fossil."
"What's a fossil?" Hornet asked.
"An excellent question." Lurien said, a scholarly inflection already seeping into his voice. "You see, when an organism dies, its shell remains behind. If that shell is buried beneath mineral-rich sediment, then over a period of many thousand years the minerals will permeate the—"
"Wait, wait," Hornet waved her claws as if fending off attacks. "I changed my mind! I don't want to know!"
"—Oh," Lurien swallowed his explanation. "I see. Very well then."
"It's just that in Deepnest we never used Geo," Hornet said, almost apologetic. "It looks nice, but in the end it's just a rock. It's kind of useless don't you think?"
Lurien considered the arbitrary manner by which worth was measured. The merchants and patricians of the City salivated at the mere idea of Geo, but to the mind of this child it was nothing more than a 'useless rock'. He chuckled. "Does Deepnest not possess a prevailing unit of currency?"
Hornet scratched at her head. "Huh?"
"Does it not have money?" Lurien clarified.
"Oh, right. For trading? Yes, we have that. We use silk for everything. I guess silk is to us what Geo is to you. But silk is a lot more useful, though. The Weavers can turn it into all kinds of things: shields and nails and clothes."
Lurien tapped a claw against his mask. "Interesting. I did not realize that Deepnest's primary export was also its main form of currency."
"And silk isn't just for making useful stuff," Hornet continued, "but pretty stuff too!" She drew her toy nail and displayed its ruby-red tassel. "My mother had the Weavers make this for me. Isn't the pattern nice?"
Her mother.
The Beast.
Consort of the King.
It took a lurching effort to reconcile these disparate elements in Lurien's mind. The Beast's reputation for martial ferocity and political guile seemed a poor fit for 'mother'. But here Hornet was, proof of that. Lurien failed to imagine whatever immense fee the King had extracted from the Beast to render their contract equitable.
At Lurien's excessive pause, Hornet tilted her head.
"I-It is quite beautiful," Lurien sputtered. "Those Weavers of which you speak must be incomparable artisans. Is… Is it your mother's usual habit to provide you with such gifts?"
The tilt to Hornet's head became a droop. "Um, no. This was special." She embraced the toy nail as if it were a doll. "Mother gave it to me before she—before I had to come here."
Curiosity overrode Lurien's good sense. "And why were you sent here, Hornet? Did something happen?"
The girl shrugged. "I guess." She let out a hurried, abrasive sort of laugh and turned away from him. "So, about Geo! Is it true that you can trade it for anything? Anything at all?"
Lurien restrained himself from prying further. "Yes, I suppose so. The City's more affluent bugs are fond of the phrase 'everything has a price'. In some aspects this is the truth. Has a purpose for your Geo occurred to you?"
"Maybe."
"If you behave, then tomorrow we will venture into the City's trade district. You will find a veritable panoply of trinkets and toys there."
Hornet gave a distracted nod and settled back to silence.
Several city blocks passed by, their buildings looming out of the dark like sentinels upon tall battlements. The trio passed residential areas, urban parks, and public plazas, but caught sight of no other pedestrians. It felt as if they'd slipped into some phantom realm devoid of all other life.
Eventually, an incongruous sound pierced through the sibilance of the rain. It was so faint that Lurien would have disregarded it had Hornet not jerked to a halt and set her gaze down a tangent street.
The sound was intermittent and metallic. Perhaps some distant bell? The distorting effect of the rain made it difficult to determine.
"What is it, Hornet? Do you—"
But like a clap of thunder, the girl was off.
There wasn't even enough time for Lurien to snatch a breath and bellow objections before Hornet rounded a corner and vanished from sight.
The Vessel did not follow her example but still leaned after her as if straining against an imaginary chain.
To Lurien's surprise, he felt no indignation, no molten ball of outrage wedged in his chest. Just acceptance, not unlike his sentiment on the rain.
"Should I take solace that she honored our agreement for as long as she did?" Lurien asked.
The Vessel glanced up at him but kept its unknowable reply to itself.
"Right. Follow me, Vessel. Do so with haste and remain close." Lurien set off after the girl, as quickly as his feeble body and vexatious robes would allow.
He pounded down the narrow streets, beneath the dripping arms of awnings, and through the shadows of skybridges. It took only a few moments of activity to set Lurien's limbs to burning. He gasped for air and pressed a claw against his aching side. What an uncouth figure he imagined himself to be. If anyone witnessed him blundering through the streets, then the subsequent gossip would spread like flames through a bramble patch.
Again, Lurien lamented the absence of his Watcher Knights. If they had been at his side, then apprehending Hornet would have required no more than a gesture. But as fate had turned, his Knights were nowhere to be seen, and he had only his own enervated legs to rely upon.
The maroon smear of Hornet's cloak taunted Lurien with every turned corner. Despite his lack of athletic skill, he managed not to lose her trail. However, that mattered little when he had no hope of actually catching her.
He was fortunate that there were no alleyways to complicate the chase. The residential districts through which he sprinted were all tight-packed houses and tenement buildings. And yet, for all his efforts, Lurien's strength flagged and Hornet eventually slipped from sight.
Wheezing, Lurien careened around an intersection and nearly slammed mask-first into a signpost. He managed—in a rather unflattering way—to evade the head injury and wrapped his arms around the signpost's corroded, iron base.
The Vessel scampered to his side, without a hint of strain in its breathing. The nail-umbrella was still high over its head, like the banner of a parade marcher.
"By the King, you're tireless," Lurien rasped.
The Vessel did not accept the compliment.
Lurien pushed off from the signpost and tried to compose himself. After a few gasps, he scanned the area for any traces of fugitive princesses.
He stood in the center of a six-way crossing that swirled pleasingly into a roundabout. There were no carts or bugs of burden, no passersby or vagrants, and certainly no princesses. In one way this was a blessing. There had been no one to witness Lurien's oafish entrance. But in another it was a curse. He had no guiding claws to point out which path Hornet had taken.
Lurien sized up each street, hoping beyond hope for some hint that might improve his odds. He deliberated, chin in claw, all the while acutely aware that each second wasted was another step's distance between himself and his charge.
Just as Lurien was about to set out at random, a keening sound drilled into his perception. It was the same metallic note that had instigated this entire mess. Now, it was much louder—closer. From this distance it took only an instant to recognize what it was.
The clang of a hammer upon an anvil.
The glaringly evident reared up before Lurien like an embarrassing memory. He knew Hornet's destination. Sparing only enough time to glance up at the signpost and confirm the direction of the trade district, Lurien set off with all speed.
The Vessel remained close behind.
In contrast to the inexplicably desolate streets Lurien had so far walked, the trade district was a frenzy of activity. Innumerable bugs of all societal class brushed shoulders in a churning sea of commerce. Umbrellas were clutched in every visible claw, and they drifted over the bugs' heads like a kaleidoscopic bank of clouds. The chiming of bells filled the air as customers entered and exited shops.
Lurien peered through the chaos in search of Hornet's cloak. He startled more than once, thinking that he had found her, only to realize that it was some other bug dressed in a similar hue. The futility of the task soon became clear, and he instead focused his senses on the ambient wail of metal being tortured into form.
It required a fair deal of shoving for Lurien to navigate his way through the crowds. Many a bug chittered at him, only to then recognize who he was and mumble immediate apology. He hoped that no curious onlookers would trail after him. The least that Lurien needed was for the City's bored nobles to learn that he was playing custodian to some mysterious child. But Lurien did not look back to indulge his paranoia and instead elbowed onward.
The Nailsmith's shop occupied the central square of the trade district, a fair distance from any other building. It was an imposing, brick structure of rough-hewn stones. Out of its domed roof sprouted a chimney that spewed soot like the proboscis of some enormous bug. An iron sign in the shape of a nail hung out over the main entrance.
If Lurien had nothing else to say about Hornet, she was at least unswerving in her intent. He could hear her treble through the shop's doorway, loud and inquisitive.
Lurien stepped inside, shook his umbrella, and closed it with a snap.
The interior of the shop smelled of smoke and hot metal. Various weapons were mounted upon the walls like the trophies of a great hunter. The back of the shop was occupied by a ceiling-high forge and attached bellows. A wizened-looking beetle sat before the crackling coals and beat a hammer-song upon a rusted anvil.
Beside the beetle stood Hornet. She held her chunk of Geo in one claw and gestured exuberantly with the other.
"And what's that one?" Hornet asked, pointing to a nail nearly twice her size.
"Greatnail," the beetle grunted.
"How much does it cost?"
"Too big."
"I know that," Hornet puffed. "But pretend that it isn't."
"Four thousand."
Hornet shot a dubious look at her Geo chunk. "Okay, maybe not that one. But what about this one over here?"
The beetle spared a glance. "Longnail. Also too big."
"I'm just asking!" Hornet said, with a half-stomp.
"Three thousand."
Hornet assessed her Geo chunk a second time. "What will this get me?" She extended it before the beetle's face.
The invariable rhythm of hammering ceased, and a quietude surged in to replace it. The beetle took the offered Geo and rolled it in his claw. After a moment's thought, he pointed to a barrel, out of which protruded the hilts of several shellwood nails. They looked much denser than Hornet's, to the point that they might be suitable for sparring.
"No way!" Hornet shouted, before snatching the Geo from the beetle's claw. "I'm here to buy a nail, not a toy!"
The beetle shrugged and resumed hammering.
Hornet crossed her arms and tramped off, making a show of being interested by a nearby weapon rack.
Lurien waited in the doorway and adopted an identical, cross-armed posture of displeasure. Hornet did not notice him standing there, however, so he made his presence known with a gravely cough.
Hornet almost jolted out of her cloak. She wheeled around to face Lurien. "Oh! It's you! Um, hi! How did you… find me?"
"With great difficulty." Lurien strode across the nail shop and took a firm grip of Hornet's arm. He would not have her running off before they could exchange words. "That was supremely impetuous of you, child. You cannot range half the length of the City on a whim! You have neither the experience nor the authority to do so. The King—" Lurien's voice dipped to a whisper and he shot a covert look at the beetle across the shop "—your father, has granted me guardianship over you, and until He deems otherwise you will obey my direction. Do you understand?"
"I just wanted to spend my Geo," Hornet mumbled.
"Do you understand?!"
"Yes, okay!"
Lurien relinquished Hornet's arm and let the remainder of his ire slip out as a heated sigh. "Good. Though I may not look it, I am a time-worn bug. I have invested many of my years in service to this kingdom, and my aching shell is not suited to miles-long footraces through the pouring rain. You would be kind to remember that."
"I'm sorry," Hornet said, with her first real flicker of sincerity. "I was just excited is all."
"Most could have perceived that by the length of your stride. But the next time that you are tempted to charge off, stop to consider those in your company first." Lurien waved over his shoulder and turned. "Why, I and the Vess—"
A cold chill ascended Lurien's back. For the Vessel was not there.
Hornet leaned to and fro, as if the Vessel might be hiding behind Lurien's slender frame. "Did you lose Spirit?" She asked bluntly.
"It… appears that I have," Lurien breathed. "But it was here just a moment ago…"
Hornet snickered. "They wander off sometimes."
Lurien wheeled back to face her. "This has transpired before?!"
"Mmhm. Plenty of times. But don't worry, they'll come back when they feel like it."
"Forgive me for not sharing that confidence!" Lurien took Hornet by the claw. "Come. We must retrace our steps and recover the Vessel. It is in my care just as you are, and I cannot allow it to wander the streets!"
Hornet wormed her claw free and scurried back. "No, wait. I need to buy my nail first!"
"Preposterous! A princess has no need for a lethal weapon."
"Right!" Hornet nodded. "And since I'm not a princess, that means I do need a nail!"
Lurien was taken aback by that twist in logic. He replayed their conversation, searching for that point of fundamental disconnect. After a pause he shook his head. "We have no time for games. A nail is dangerous and needless. You may not have one. Now come along."
Hornet retreated another step. "But what about the Geo you gave me? It's mine, right? I can spend it on what I want! And I want a nail!"
"As you may recall," Lurien needled, "the conditions of our agreement required that you not leave my side before we reached the Spire. You voided that agreement the moment that you scampered off. Thus, that Geo is no longer yours and you must return it." He lifted an extorting claw. "You cannot purchase a nail without any money, so cease this quibbling and follow me. The Vessel may very well be in jeopardy."
Hornet clasped her Geo in both claws. "N-No, that's—that's not fair!"
"It is entirely fair!"
Hornet's breath hitched. "Then h-how will I get my nail?"
"That answer is simple," Lurien blared. "You will not!" He plucked the Geo from Hornet's claws and pocketed it.
"But—But—"
And the girl began to cry.
It was not loud, nor was it histrionic. Hornet merely hung her head and cupped the eyes of her mask with one claw. A low mewling—barely even audible—leaked from her like rain through a fractured skylight.
All awareness of the Vessel left Lurien's mind. He had never borne witness to a child's anguish before, and he had certainly never been the direct cause. It suddenly felt as though Hornet were some unfathomably intricate machine on the verge of implosion, and only he was there to repair it.
Although Lurien knew that the young often shed Mawlek tears when they did not get their way, Hornet exuded such a pure aura of grief that it denied that possibility. Above everything, Lurien knew that the tears must stop, if only for his own sake.
"Now, now, hush. Do not—Do not weep," Lurien said, in as soothing a voice as he could muster. "It is only a nail, a sharpened block of metal. It is no great treasure."
"But it is," Hornet snuffled. "It really is."
"Why do you fixate so? It cannot mean this much to you. Does your toy nail no longer please you?"
"No, no. That isn't it. I just—" Hornet took a breath, and her claw twined the tassel of her shellwood nail. "When my mother gave me this, she said that she would have to go to sleep for a very long time. She said that when I was all grown up, she'd wake up, and that I could ha-have a real nail, not just a toy."
Sleep?
Lurien stiffened.
"But when they sent me here, I asked the King how l-long my mother would sleep, and he said forever! That she would never w-wake up! And that I would never go home!"
Lurien finally discerned the terms of the King's contract with the Beast. Even as the implications turned his stomach, he could not help but admire the perfection of it. What a masterstroke it was, to bend a rival and a threat into the most critical of allies.
Herrah the Beast? No. Herrah the Dreamer.
The King had sent her ahead, to carve the bounds of the dream-prison that would be Hallownest's salvation. And it stung Lurien, in a way that he did not expect. For although Lurien himself had been the very first to take the pledge of Dreamer, Herrah had been the one chosen to pave the way.
All for the sake of this lone child.
"So, do you s-see?" Hornet asked, with a voice so thick that it was nearly unintelligible. "I need a nail so I can show that I'm b-big and strong! Not some little princess, but a grown up! And then if—if I can do that, then m-maybe mother will—" But she could not finish, for Lurien knelt and encompassed her in his arms. She froze, the sobs and broken words crystallizing within her.
"That is enough of that," Lurien whispered. "No more weeping."
"Are you mad?" Hornet's question came out muffled by Lurien's shoulder.
"At you? Never. I cannot begrudge my King, so I certainly cannot begrudge his child."
After the span of a heartbeat, Hornet returned the embrace. She let out a sigh, long and tortured, but by its end the tremble had left her body.
"What now?" she asked.
Lurien released her and stood. He brushed at his soot-stained robes as he stalled to think. "Because our previous agreement was annulled… perhaps we should strike a new one. If it is your desire to prove that you are a grown-up worthy of owning a nail, then I will allow you an opportunity to do just that. For the next seven days we are to be companions. If over that interval you carry yourself as a grown-up would—with dignity, restraint, and tact—then on our way back to the Palace I will purchase a nail for you from this very shop. Any that you desire—" He glanced at some of the vicious-looking weapons. "—within reason, that is. Are you interested in such a deal?"
Like an overturned Pilflip, Hornet shifted from scuttling despair to bounding delight. "What? Really? Really? I can have a nail?!"
Lurien inclined his head. "Yes, but only if you reveal yourself to be a true grown-up. Can you achieve this? For an entire week?"
"Oh, definitely! It'll be easy!"
Something in Lurien doubted that, but he did not voice it. "Very well. We have penned a new agreement, and henceforth we will adhere to it."
"Of course," Hornet said. "I'll show you just how grown-up I can be!"
With the calamity averted, Lurien could feel the tension between his shoulders unknitting. He was beginning to understand why the King had been so desperate to cede responsibility to him. Ruling a kingdom was likely a less arduous task than supervising an insubordinate child.
But as Lurien congratulated himself on another job well done, a doubt fluttered at his peripheries.
There was some crisis… some other matter of importance… If only he could—
"The Vessel!" Lurien barked. "Quickly, girl! We haven't any more time!"
Hornet laughed. "Oh, right! I forgot."
Lurien grabbed a clawful of Hornet's cloak and dragged her out into the rain.