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in the legal letter. If you have only one wing and you have a ready successor like Dimynedon, you can walk away from this.”
    “No, it’s my birthright to be a Judge.” Aein refused to let his mother faze him. He spent most of his life letting her voice stream through his senses and out his other pores. She was always telling him what he couldn’t and shouldn’t do, which of course made him all the more determined to prove her wrong.
    Beside his mother, Thulrika remained unperturbed. The Supreme General’s wings were folded behind her back as she perched beside the litter. As Aein entered the chrysalis, a look passed between them.
    Don’t fail Spora, Thulrika’s face said.
    Aein’s expression betrayed nothing.
    The Queen fanned herself with a scarlet leaf that must have been worth half the Hive. “I can’t bear to look,” she said weakly.
    “Oh mother, spare me the histrionics.” Aein forced a note of false cheer into his voice. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
    They both knew it might not be true. Despite months of studied preparation, immersing himself in the language, the would-be environment, and as much of the inhabitants’ culture as the golden beetle scouts could transmit, Aein knew the quest would be dangerous.
    “By Fytenach the Fair,” he proclaimed, as was the custom, “I swear by all that is holy to uphold justice and fairness.” His voice cracked at the final word because Thulrika was watching every twitch of his facial muscles.
    The Chief Biologist made to seal the chrysalis. Aein could smell its alien scent of musk and meat as he allowed himself to fuse with the plush wetness of its interior.
    “The navigation crystal?” he inquired.
    “It’s embedded within the chrysalis walls for safety,” the Chief Biologist said. “It has everything you need – map, communicator, compass, pulse stick. Do not lose it. No one here can help you otherwise.”
    Aein peered at the brownish crystal within a wall pocket. It seemed fairly sturdy. “Thank you.”
    He lay back and grimaced. This was his greatest chance to prove himself he was every bit as good as Dimynedon and the others.
     
    #
     
    Snow White’s stomach rumbled. She continued to walk through the forest, stopping every hundred feet or so to rest. Her constant fatigue would be the death of her, she decided, if she didn’t trip into any more wasp nests. Birds sang and flitted through the boughs, rustling leaves.
    What are you so happy about? she thought grumpily.
    Her leather shoes, which were becoming worn, popped dry twigs. At least she was still alive to pop twigs.
    Every now and again, she listened for the galloping of hooves and Tom Cherry’s voice. But they were lost from each other. Her spiral of extremely bad luck was continuing. Now and again, she raised her voice – tinny in its extremely parched throat – to call “Tom!” But there was only the whoo-whoo of the wind through the trees.
    Between deep breaths, she muttered:
    “Damn, damn, damn, damn.”
    “What a stupid situation this is. Of all the stupid, stupid – oh, I’m so angry I can eat hobnails right now.”
    Forlornly: “I’m hungry enough to eat hobnails right now.”
    “The Queen wants to kill me over some devil pact. OK, I get that it has something to do with her aging. Immortality is overrated anyway. What’s the big deal about aging?”
    “OK, so it has something to do with me being beautiful. So I’ll hit my face repeatedly against a tree and I won’t be beautiful anymore. So there!”
    After an hour or so, she said angrily: “Why do I have to bang up my nose to spite her face?”
    Then over and over, until her muttering became so furious that her mouth felt like the inside of a shoe left out in the midday sun. She fell silent, but her dark thoughts clomped through her boots. Night came. The smell of water in the wind made her press on, her heart swelling for the first time in a long while. The path widened, and suddenly she was at the edge