Geryon chuckled without humor. “I daresay. They’ve been feeding that flower for a hundred years. Without the fruit, their queen will starve, and the rest of the colony will die with her.”

Alice thought about the blind desperation with which the wasps had hurled themselves against her and Isaac. Her throat went thick.

Her master misinterpreted her expression. “Don’t fret about it. Herd-wasps are useless creatures anyway. Not worth the trouble of binding. And there are plenty of other colonies out there.” He leaned forward. “Now. The rest of the fruit?”

She handed over the two remaining globes. Geryon frowned.

“I instructed you to bring four,” he said, voice taking on a hard edge.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Alice said. “There were only six there, so Isaac and I thought—”

“You thought?” Geryon’s lip twisted. “I instructed you to bring me four century fruit.”

“Anaxomander told Isaac the same thing,” Alice said. “There weren’t enough.”

“Then you should have taken what you needed by force,” Geryon snapped.

“Isaac fought the wasps just as much as I did,” Alice said, a sick feeling growing in her stomach to go with the hot anger in her chest. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Fair is not my concern.” Geryon’s face had gone cold. “You are entirely too friendly with this Isaac. I believe I will tell his master that any further joint ventures will have to be suspended until the two of you can correct your attitude.” He put the two century fruits down and gave an irritated sigh. “I was going to let you taste this, as a reward for a job well done, but now I see I have been spoiling you. I will have to devise an appropriate punishment.”

“Yes, sir,” Alice grated. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Go. Do not come back until I call for you.”

I could throw a swarmer at him, right in the eye—

“Yes, sir,” Alice said, slipping out of the study.

CHAPTER THREE

WRITING LESSONS

ALICE SAT ON the dusty stone floor, eyes closed, cocooned in the warm, stale smell of Geryon’s library. In her inner vision, swarming letters of liquid blue fire hovered tantalizingly on the edge of comprehensibility. There were hints and suggestions of meaning, brushing past her like moths in the dark. And if she could only line them up in the right order, if this piece would fit here, it would all suddenly become obvious . . .

“Don’t push too hard.” Ending’s voice was a thoughtful purr. “You cannot force clarity, or insight. If it will not link, find a way around.”