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"I am not a thing!" Control snaps with enough ferocity to startle the nearest bee soldier. "I am not something you get to examine and analyze, Crowchar."

You've clearly struck a nerve, or whatever Control has instead of nerves.

It doesn't surprise you that the bee people live in a hive. But the colossal sphere wrapped in vines and crystals that confronts you is admittedly impressive. The guards take you into a vast hexagonal amphitheater full of golden light and the drone of wings. Bee women bustle about on incomprehensible tasks; you see neither males nor grubs as you're led up a wide ramp into a central chamber full of golden light. A few of the women slow to admire Therko, who looks particularly kingly in the golden light of the hive.

Stairs lead up to a colossal throne of intricately folded white paper, and there sits an enormous and elderly bee, her golden stripes faded to the color of old ivory, her craggy face half-hidden by a crown of what looks like frozen honey, through which her feathery, moth-like antennae constantly test the air.

One of your guards flutters up to the throne and whispers a brief, suspicious-sounding report of your appearance and capture. The queen dismisses her servant with a gesture of cool command and fixes her black eyes on you.

"I am Queen Acma," she says in the River Language. "Why have you come, Riverlanders?"