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"Trade?" Queen Acma says, her tone dismissive. "Humans do not trade, they take."

"As should be obvious," Control says, "we are not like the humans you know. We seek a crystal prism of exacting specifications and flawless quality."

"Interesting," the queen says, though she still sounds skeptical. "Normally humans are attracted to the healing properties of our honey crystals, for when they fight their endless wars." She arches a feathery eyebrow. "Do you not have enemies?"

"We were attacked by wasps," Therko says. "Our enemy is the False Icon—the gray mountain that now hangs in the sky. We seek its destruction!"

"Hmm," Queen Acma says, "and before you spoke, Painted Guardian, did you not think to wonder whom we serve?"

Therko tenses as the hundreds of bees above you turn to watch the throne.

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