Bee clutched onto Em. She sat amongst her sisters in the wagon, beneath her blankets. The freaks at the lash groaned, bound tight in their rigging, themselves unable to escape. So there they dwelled, in the shade of a large stone monument, a fallen structure that almost made sense to Bee’s disorientated gaze but was made from dead stone.

Had it been carved from the earth? Bee wondered. Why wouldn’t someone just grow their buildings? A gurgle of the speech drifted in the hot wind. She could not quite hear, but sometimes she could guess the words. A spray of glass sand, kicked up by the wind, shot into her eyes and mouth. She spat and whined, hiding her head away.

Ay had entered some time ago and told her not to leave the wagon. After that, Bee wasn’t even sure she had the energy to move. The fear still gripped her - fear and anxiety, worry, pain. She felt sick with it. Then, a shadow fell against her, and she jolted. A dark silhouette above had swooped close, circled, and then moved on. Bee watched it swing out into the distance.

Em licked at her wound, where Bee’s forearm had been severed; the flesh worked back together. Then Em bit hungrily. Gasping, Bee pulled her sister away, repositioned Em’s place on her lap and held her there with a weak grip.

“Stop that...”

Her sister writhed and hissed.

Bee stared out of the wagon. Her eyes were puffy, rimmed with blood. Her face was sore with dried tears. Everything hurt. All the while, Em chewed at the blanket that Bee was dressed in, but she didn’t have the energy to stop her little sister from doing it.

“Little one, you seem so tired.”

Bee turned her head. From the ruins had stepped a tall, slender figure. Dressed from head to toe in pristine, white robes, she spoke with a soft and gentle voice, a plate of gold held between two gloved hands.

“There is no need to be afraid. Here,” the stranger said, offering the plate. Slices of meat upon it, Bee’s eyes widened, and she reached out to grab some. She turned away after taking a handful, desperately eating, eyes closed, face slack. The fear shortly subsided as she devoured the food, feeling her strength returning. One of her siblings sniffed at her shoulder, nuzzling her skin.

Bee stirred from her hunger, took more, and began to feed her sisters. Each began to chirp, worming back to life as the food was offered, ending their starvation. The woman smiled, mandibles turning and compound eyes flexing. A reassuring pheromone spray accompanied the words, “Such a bond. You must know, empathy is rare in one so young.”

“Who are you?”

“I am one of the temple’s servants. Your name is Bee. Is that right?”

“Um... Yes.”

“May I sit with you, Bee?”

“Yes. I mean, that’s fine.”

The thralls in the rigging groaned as the creature stepped up onto the wagon with eight graceful legs. The stranger gracefully sat on the carriage bed next to Bee’s seat, taking a moment to straighten her robes and clasp her hands together on the lap that faced the child. Once she was settled, her attention turned to the various offspring before speaking to Bee again.

“My friends are going to bring you food and water, very soon. I wanted to ask you some questions, if you do not mind answering them for me.”

“No?” Bee said, unsure, tucking her knees to her plated chest and trying to calm her anxiety, looking up to the servant with wide eyes.

“Thank you, Bee. Our friend, Ay, has explained to me that you are the Vat-Mother of Sestchek’s daughter. Is that correct?”

“He’s not my friend.”

The servant dipped her head forward in silent acknowledgement.

“Even so,” the stranger said.

“Yes. I mean, I am.”

The temple servant put a hand on Bee’s shoulder. The child trembled but did not pull away.

“I can see you are hurt. May I see?”

Bee lifted her arm to show the amputation at her first elbow. The older creature made a sympathetic sound, spraying sad scents as she leaned in to see.

“That looks incredibly painful. You are very brave, Bee.”

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to get to know you, Bee, before you left. Ay has told us all about you.”

Bee held her tongue, trying to stop herself from making a comment, and settled for scowling at the temple servant. Some time passed, with the creature content to wait in gentle silence, removing her hand from the child’s shoulder. The temple servant’s reassuring tones patronised and infuriated Bee. However, realising that only upset the child further. She desperately wanted to believe that this freak could show her some genuine kindness. However, a creeping sense of doubt remained.

The far off speech, carried on the wind, was full of twisted, angry words. The low thrumming of wind through stone and hiss of sand catching the ruins was joined by earthy growls and the snap of a whip. A reptilian creature that had kept out of sight made a terrible, guttural roar that rolled over the stones and bounced off the sands in a terrible echo.

“How long has it been since the Vat-Mother birthed you?”

Bee frowned and looked down at Em’s toothy, worming face.

“I don’t know. I remember my first days,” Bee explained. “We were all born together, mostly. I think it’s nearly twenty days ago, maybe.”

“You have a pretty accent. Where does it come from?”

That was a meaningless question, Bee thought, mind clouded with suspicion. Eventually, however, she decided to sweeten her tone rather than bite back with it.

“I just speak like my mother.”

“And your face? It really is quite beautiful and I haven’t seen anyone with anything quite like it.”

“I don’t know. That’s just how I look.”

“Well, you are very lucky, Bee. I hope that you know that. You remind me of my daughter.”

Bee compressed her lips into a tight line as she looked ahead, over the thralls and their rigging, past the temple’s ruins and the glass desert beyond. Then, after a moment, she remembered herself and gave the creature a shallow smile.

“Does she look like me?”

“No. However, she has become very well behaved, like you.”

“Do you have any more food?” Bee suddenly asked, looking at the servant’s empty gold plate.

“That is one of the things I wanted to talk to you about, Bee. You are a very important young child and I wanted to speak to you about your source.”

“My source?”

“Yes.” The servant reached out and put her soft, gloved hand on Bee’s chest. The child seized with apprehension but didn’t struggle, sitting there with her heart beating in her throat.

“Your source,” the servant continued. “It is inside of all of us. A water engine, as well as tiny machinery.”

“A water engine?”

“That’s right. It burns water to power us.”

Bee baulked, watching her, unmoving until she elaborated.

“Food, amongst other things, is unnecessary. It is wanton greed in our minds, kept from a time before. By indulging, you sin, and the more you sin the more befouled creatures you create. You shed them, like the misdeeds of your past, and they haunt the world long after you are gone.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh, Bee. I used to be a sinner as well. But you are a very important child. I cannot stress that enough, and I want you to understand that your urges are immoral. They will lead you down a path of avarice and destruction. I do not want you to end up like your mother.”

Em chirped and struggled on Bee’s lap beneath the servant’s arm, and it was only then that the stranger retracted it and looked down on them both.

“I would like you to tell Ay that you want to stay here with us. Learn our ways. We can teach you so much about your body and about your destiny that I do not think you have ever had the chance to learn.”

“You really know about me?”

“Yes. There has long been a struggle to control the genetic discord amongst the so-called Gods of the cities. I know all about it. If you stay, I can tell you everything.”

Bee stared up at the servant, expression vivid and frantically searching the creature’s eyes for sincerity. Words didn’t come to her immediately. Instead, she was interrupted by a clacking and a hiss, drawing her attention to the temple ruins, where Ay glided out with his enormous, tailed body, flanked by two gaunt freaks that struggled on spindly legs. They all carried heavy bags, but only Ay hefted them easily between two hands, his lance in his third.

His beak opened. Wet eyes met Bee’s, giving her a slight nod.

“Not bothering you?” He rumbled, asking the child but looking to the servant sitting next to her with venomous intent.

“We were just speaking about Bee and her mother,” the creature answered with a hollow graciousness. Bee swallowed a lump in her throat as the servant continued, “Bee actually has something she would like to tell you.”

“Yes,” Bee said, hugging Em tightly. She glanced up to the creature beside her before speaking to Ay with hesitation and quiet dismay. “I’m really... Really looking forward to getting to the Crawling City.”

The servant’s eyes snapped down to the child, posture growing tense, hostile.

Yet Ay laughed watching this, shoulders rocking as he simply said, “You and me both.”