“What’s this about taking Drover Drone?”

  Now Hilda spoke. “Several princesses have been sequestered by a dragon, who will release them only if suitable consorts can be provided for them. One of them is Princess Beetrix Bee. It is our mission to locate prince prospects so that the princesses can emerge to form their own queendom.”

  “A queendom?” She was clearly intrigued. A queen bee was by definition the ultimate feminist.

  “Most large folk have kingdoms. They believe that it is time for a queendom. We believe they should be given their chance to show that females can organize and operate a nation just as well as males do.”

  “Or better,” BeeAttitude said. She had attitude, of course.

  “Or better,” Hilda agreed. “But in the large person realm, this requires proof.”

  “However, we can’t afford to let a valuable drone depart before the Flight of the Princess.”

  She was ready to bargain. Drover wasn’t much valued, because of his wing injury, but this queen was not one to let any opportunity escape.

  Hilda hesitated, having assumed it would be just a matter of clearing it with the queen. They had not brought a gift, not knowing how to relate on this level.

  Sherlock spoke. “Allow me, please,” he said. “I am King Emeritus Sherlock of the Shee Kingdom. I was deposed by my daughter, but I have had a fair amount of experience in governing a country. What seems to be required here is a deal that benefits both parties.”

  “You talk my language, Shee Drone,” BeeAttitude agreed. “What do you offer?”

  “What is your interest?”

  “Flowers. Our fields are becoming depleted.”

  “I believe the queendom’s proposed territory has some very nice flower fields. But there may be a problem. It is not adjacent to your territory.”

  The queen sighed with simulated regret. “Too bad. I wish you fortune in finding a suitable drone elsewhere.”

  Sherlock smiled. He was plainly in his element: hardball bargaining. “There may nevertheless be an avenue.” He glanced at Ion. “Is teleportation within your means, Magician?”

  Ion considered. “I’m not sure. My elixirs generally operate locally. It’s not safe to attempt long-distance transport. There’s a square/cube complication that magnifies with size.”

  “But perhaps at bee scale?”

  Ion nodded. “Parallel portals could be set up. It might work.”

  “What I am thinking of is a connection between this locale and a prime field in Thanx. One that bees could use, going back and forth. That would make the distance negligible. They would simply fly into the near portal and emerge at the far portal to forage, then return with their collected pollen. To them it would seem like an adjacent flower field.”

  Ion nodded again. “This would be feasible, with some effort.”

  Sherlock returned his gaze to the queen, who had been paying close attention. “We might be able to make a flower field available for a limited time.”

  “Why the limit?” the queen demanded.

  “When the drone joins the princess, they will form a new hive in that vicinity. It will require a season or two to establish a full complement, but then they will want that field for themselves.”

  She nodded, tacitly accepting the limit. “What flowers?”

  Sherlock looked at Hilda. “I am not conversant with flower species. Can we ascertain what is available there?”

  Hilda looked at Vinia. “Can you get in touch? We never got to look at the flowers there.”

  “I’ll try,” Vinia said. She spoke to her ring. “Demesne.”

  In three-tenths of a moment the Demoness responded. “Yes, Vinia.”

  “What kind of flowers are there in the fields of Thanx? We are making a deal with the bee queen to free a drone.”

  “One moment. I will check with Chloe.”

  “She’s checking,” Vinia reported.

  “You have an interesting device,” the queen remarked. “Communication?”

  “It’s a ring that can contact a named person,” Vinia explained.

  Demesne spoke again. “Chloe checked with Dragoman. He says they have a number of varieties of flowers. It seems he is something of a horticulturist in his free time. He says he planted one rare variety himself. Does the name Heaven-Can-Wait Honeysuckle mean anything to the queen bee?”

  Vinia looked at the queen, about to repeat that. But the queen had heard Demesne. She was frozen in place. Alarmed, the workers were buzzing to her.

  “Peace,” Sherlock said. “She is not harmed, merely rapt. I have heard of that variety. It is considered to be the most special of flowers for pollen, producing honey that transports folk into paroxysms of delight. This is definitely a potent bargaining chip.”

  The queen recovered. “I believe a deal can be made,” she said dreamily.

  “It will take some time to set up the dual portals,” Ion said.

  “It will take some time to arrange for Drover’s release,” the queen said. Meaning that they would have to deliver on the portal before they got the drone.

  “I will set up one portal here. I will need to return to Thanx to place the one there. Otherwise the bees would go there and not be able to come back here. Each portal is essentially one way. Then we should test the pair of them on a bee volunteer to be sure it is safe.”

  “Drover will volunteer.” Meaning that they had better do it right the first time, or they would lose the drone. Oh, yes, she was a hard-tailed bargainer.

  Sherlock looked at the queen, nodding. She nodded back. They had a deal.

  Next they had to talk with Drover. A worker escorted him into the royal chamber. He was clearly the right one, because one wing hung crooked. He did a double take when he saw Georgia, his antennae goggling.

  “Yes, it is me, in your size,” she said. “An accommodation spell. I am with a royal human party.”

  “But why would you come here?”

  “They have a bee princess in need of a drone. I recommended you. We have made a deal for your release.”

  “But why would a bee princess settle for a drone with a damaged wing?”

  Georgia glanced at Ion. “We might be able to do something about that.”

  Ion brought out a vial. “Healing elixir,” he said.

  “But that’s not for me! I’m not a worker.”

  “This is our own supply,” Ion said. “Lend me your wing.”

  Drover went to stand before him, calling what he thought was a bluff. He turned his back, exposing his wings. Ion sprinkled a drop of elixir on the damaged one. It immediately straightened out.

  Drover felt the difference. “Wow!” he buzzed. “It really is the elixir! I am back in perfect form.” He flew up in the chamber and around it. He did an airborne flip, then made a perfect landing. “Thank you, visiting prince.”

  “Now you can catch the hive princess,” Georgia said. “But these folk would like you to go to their princess, who will not be at all difficult to catch.”

  The drone evidently still suspected a catch. “But I don’t know her. We might not get along. I do know our own princess. She will make a good queen.”

  This was the crux. Would he find a pretext to renege, now that his local prospect had been restored? When he had the chance to be the consort of a good familiar queen?

  “It seems you have a choice to make,” Georgia said.

  “My wing for their princess,” he agreed. “But it’s a gamble. The wrong princess would be a lifelong horror.”

  He had a reasonable point.

  “Perhaps you should view her holo,” Hilda said.

  If he saw Beetrix and didn’t like her, what then?

  Drover viewed the holo. They all did, including the queen. Now it was perfectly clear to Vinia as Beetrix presented her case. Every buzz was significant. She was a very fetching bee.

  Drover looked stunned. “She will do,” he said. “I thought she would be a stupid hag. Why else go to so much trouble to corral a distant drone? I think I was prepared to go there anyway, reluctantly, to honor the implied deal, but now I know that this will be no chore. She’s perfect. I will go.”

  A qualified endorsement. But also not reneging. That would have to do.

  “In due course,” the queen said. “There are certain arrangements to complete first.” Guard bees escorted Drover out of the chamber, cutting off any further dialogue. The queen did not want him reaching their protected carpet.

  “I suggest that we draw up a formal mutual assistance treaty,” Sherlock said. “So that our deal is made quite clear. Trust but verify.”

  “Indeed,” the queen agreed. “You do understand the basics.”

  “I wielded power for some time. There are protocols.”

  “Too bad you’re not a drone.”

  Vinia knew that the essence had been accomplished, regardless of the technical language. Thanx wanted the drone; the drone wanted Beetrix; the queen wanted the Heaven-Can-Wait Honeysuckle flowers for her foragers, at least for a season. The hive would have a marvelous feast in the off-season.

  “Are you by any chance familiar with the human game of poker?” Sherlock asked the queen.

  Her antennae wavered in a bee smile. “I know of it. But I never bluff.”

  He nodded. “I’m not surprised. Bluffing is for a weak hand.” Then they both laughed. They were complimenting each other. This had been a kind of game, to an extent, though with serious consequences.

  “Where do you want the local portal?” Ion asked the queen.

  “Right outside the hive.” The queen was evidently too canny to allow foreign magic inside the hive.

  They exited the hive, and Ion delved into the magic bag to bring out a covered cup. There were several colored rings on it, in the manner of decorations. He drew one ring off. “This operates by forming a circle of transport elixir,” Ion explained. “I will dip the ring into the elixir, let it dry for exactly three-quarters of a moment, then set it on a stand. The ambiance of the elixir will affect whatever passes through it. Any bee that flies through the hoop will be transported to the specified destination. In this case, the edge of the field of flowers.”

  “How do you specify that?” Vinia asked, impressed by the technology of this magic.

  “That is where you come in. Put your ring next to the hoop and speak the name of the field. That will orient the portal.”

  They rehearsed it, to be sure she had it right. Then Ion carefully drew the lid off the cup, so that its dark fluid showed. He dipped the hoop into it, then held it up in the open air for three-quarters of a moment. He glanced at Vinia.

  She put her ring finger beside the hoop, almost touching it. “The near edge of the Heaven-Can-Wait Flower Field of Thanx,” she said clearly. This was not a person, but it was a specific identity, and the ring could fix on it.

  The ring flashed. That was all. But Vinia knew that the critical orientation had occurred. The magic of the ring combined with the magic of the elixir to fashion the one-way bee portal.

  Ion covered the cup, preserving the precious elixir, and put it back in the bag. “I will set up the return portal when we are at the flower field. There should be no problem.”

  Vinia was relieved that it was done. Now they had four of the six they sought. But she feared the worst was yet to come. How were they going to recruit a flying centaur stallion, and then a Demon? Let alone royal ones? Demesne was nice, but a mature male Demon could be quite another matter.

  Chapter 6

  Islets

  Back in the air, they faced the next decision. “Which prince?” Benny asked.

  “I suspect that the most difficult one will be the Demon, so perhaps best left to last,” Sherlock said. “Which leaves the winged centaur.”

  The others nodded somberly. “Do they even have princes or princesses?” Hilda asked. “We have seen centaur visitors at Adamant, but they never seemed to be royal.”

  “They aren’t, really,” Sherlock said. “They believe in equality. So every one of them is royal if they choose to express it that way.”

  “Yet we have Princess Chloe,” Ion pointed out. “Though she never seemed to think of herself as anything other than equal.”

  “A largely meaningless title, for her,” Hilda said. “The other princesses didn’t challenge it. What sets her apart is not her station, but her telepathy.”

  “So are we looking for a telepathic winged centaur stallion?”

  Hilda shuddered. “A female telepath seems okay. But the idea of a male telepath peering into my private thoughts alarms me.”

  “We males want only one thing of our females,” Furioso said. “So mind reading makes no real difference. But females have more complicated minds, thus more at risk. So they are naturally wary.”

  “We are,” Georgia said, not questioning his assessment. “I don’t like the idea of a considerate female reading my secrets, let alone a thoughtless male focusing on that one thing.”

  Vinia suspected that she was not joking.

  “So no telepath,” Sherlock said. “One is more than enough for Thanx.”

  “Does that mean that any unattached garden-variety disaffected winged centaur stallion will do?” Hilda asked.

  They all laughed. But the decision had been made. They would look for such a centaur.

  “Next question,” Sherlock said. “Where do we find him?”

  Hilda looked at Vinia. “Will your ring orient?”

  “I need a name.”

  “And this time we have no name,” Ion said. “Do we have a winged centaur village to go to so we can look around?”

  “They don’t seem to have villages,” Sherlock said. “The land-bound centaurs have Centaur Island, but their culture differs. The flying ones are freer spirits. I’m not sure they settle anywhere. I never heard of a winged centaur village.”

  “There might be one,” Benny said. “They might be canny about mentioning it to strangers.”

  “There might be,” Furioso agreed. “Just about any intelligent creature likes to associate on occasion with his own kind.”

  “Maybe an exercise in logic will help,” Georgia said.

  “Logic?” Hilda asked.

  “A thought experiment. Let’s assume that a winged centaur village exists. That no other species knows of it. Where then would it be?”

  “Far away,” Furioso said. “Maybe not in Xanth proper at all, though it still has to be within its environs.”

  “Across the water,” Benny said.

  “Accessible only by air,” Sherlock said.

  Georgia nodded. “And that would be?”

  “An island,” Vinia said. “Maybe one of the Sometime Islands.”

  “I don’t think so,” Hilda said. “Adamant, where we live, is on a Sometime Island, and we know the area pretty well. We’ve never seen a flying centaur who wasn’t coming directly to visit us.”

  “And the outside centaurs would be cut off from it much of the time, because of the way the isles fade in and out of Xanth proper,” Ion said. “They wouldn’t want that.”

  “So it must be in the normal frame,” Georgia said. “Somewhere in the Gulf or the Lantic Sea.”

  “There’s not much in the Gulf,” Sherlock said. “I traveled there in my youth. Only the Wet Tortoise Isles, which are low to the ground.”

  “So by elimination, the Lantic Sea,” Georgia said. “I have heard there are many islands there, some of them volcanic.”

  “Volcanic!” Furioso said. “An old cone would be mainly accessible by air, and a village could be hidden inside.”

  “So we are looking for a volcanic island,” Georgia said.

  “But there may be hundreds,” Sherlock said. “Scattered across stormy seas.”

  “Which would take half of forever to check, even by flying carpet,” Hilda said. “We need to narrow it down.”

  “Maybe we need a map,” Vinia said. “To study the islands. Do we have one?”

  “I can sew one,” Hilda said. She got busy with her needlework.

  Furious laughed. “We need needles for our needs.”

  “Can a sewn map work?” Georgia asked. “We need something current and accurate, not a picture.”

  “You haven’t seen her magic,” Furioso said. “She’s a Sorceress.”

  Soon the map took shape. It covered the east coast of Xanth and the sea next to it, complete with a number of islands. They were even labeled by name.

  “Just the volcanic ones,” Ion said.

  Hilda pulled out a thread. Most of the islands disappeared. “Got them.”

  “Now that’s impressive,” Georgia said.

  “There are still too many, too widely scattered,” Ion said. “We need to be more selective.”

  “Maybe remove the active volcanoes,” Furioso said. “Can’t have a village inside the cone of a live volcano.”

  Hilda pulled out another thread. More islands disappeared.

  “What about inhabited ones?” Hilda asked. “They need to be using an isolated one, with no people there to see them come and go.”

  Hilda pulled another thread. Now the islands were relatively few, and widely spread.

  “Can we have their names?” Georgia asked. “I don’t suppose any will be labeled SECRET FLYING CENTAUR VILLAGE, but there might be some hint.”

  Benny smiled. “If any say CENTAUR TAIL ITCH WEED, we can eliminate those.”

  Hilda carefully sewed a new thread into the pattern. The names of the islands appeared.

  “The more I see of your magic, the more impressed I am,” Georgia said.