Comb Keepers
Shulker kin who stayed in the Hive when the Queen closed her shell and the combs stopped flying. Every family keeps its own comb, seals its wax, trades its amber and counts its wealth in sealed cells; their shells are cells themselves, and they slam the lids shut when frightened. They greet a guest by lifting the lid like a hat, and they call humans the lidless: a head always open to the sky looks terribly brave to them.
«Oh! A lidless one — I nearly slammed my shell. Lid up, guest; that means hello. I am …. You have no shell at all? Then walk softly on the Comb, and never stand on the lip of a well.»
The settlement and its dwellers
Crafts
Looks
Where they live
Keepers' Comb. A settlement of the Comb Keepers: family cells of amber wax huddled around the Queen's Court, each under a lid left ajar like a keeper's own shell, with the family's sealed cells pressed into its walls for everyone to count. In the middle of the court the Little Queen Cell hangs under an amber canopy, and the candles beneath it are never allowed to go out.
Tasks
Wax of the Green Cell· SealerBring the sealer twelve honeycombs and three honey bottles from the Green Cell.
«The guests say there are little keepers in your Green Cell — no bigger than a fingernail, with wings — and that they build cells of six walls out of their own wax. Six walls! Nobody taught them, and they found the way anyway. Bring me some of their comb, guest, and a little of their honey. I want to seal a cell with Green Cell wax and see if the seal holds.»
Let Them Rest· Sealer· repeatableDefeat a Hive Warden that climbed up from the wells and bring the sealer its plate.
«Sometimes a warden climbs up out of the wells and stands at the nursery, and the grubs stop purring. It was one of us once, guest — a keeper who went down to watch over the Mother. The Comb rebuilt it, and it does not remember our names. Let it rest. Then bring me its plate: we seal every keeper who is gone, and the plate is all that is left to seal.»
The Oldest Wax· SealerCarry the sealer's oldest wax to the elder: the Mother's cocoon in the Queen Cell is to be sealed.
«The Mother's shell is open for good, and her first cocoon still hangs in the Queen Cell, torn and empty. It was our shrine longer than any keeper remembers. Now it should be sealed, with the oldest wax there is. I have kept this wax since before I had a lid of my own. Carry it to the elder, guest. My hands shake too much to carry it myself.»
Edges for the Amber· Amber WorkerClimb the Amber Tower and bring the amber worker two diamonds to cut amber with.
«Amber is patient, guest, and it blunts everything I cut it with — except your clear stones, the hardest thing the guests carry. Bring me two. And while you are out, climb the Amber Tower and look at its crown. Do not take from the crown — the crown belongs to the Comb — only look. Then come and tell me what is inside it.»
Light That Does Not Spill· Amber WorkerCarry two pieces of hive amber from the amber worker to a vein opener of the Facetkin in the Glass Cell.
«You came through the Glass Cell to get here, did you not? The drones smell it on you: cold and bright. They say the glass folk there carry light in jars and lose it when it spills. Light in a jar! In amber, light stays for ever — look, this piece has held the same glint since the Flight. Take them two pieces, guest. Give them to whoever carries the jars.»
Stone for the Tubs· Chorus TenderBring the chorus tender thirty-two blocks of end stone and sixteen pinches of bone meal for new chorus tubs.
«Chorus is a stubborn thing. It will grow on wax and on my lid, but it only truly thrives on stone from the Dark Cell — the pale stone your kind brings back from beyond the cracks. My tubs are worn through. Bring me stone for new ones, guest, and bone dust to wake the roots.»
Catch What Floats· Chorus TenderLive through the day the combs remember the Flight and bring the chorus tender sixteen pieces of chorus wax caught in the air.
«Sometimes the combs remember the Flight. You feel light, the ground lifts you, and things float up out of the walls — amber, wax, old plates of chitin. My chorus grows best from wax that has flown: it thinks it is still flying. When the combs remember, guest, jump after the wax and catch it before it falls. Bring me sixteen pieces.»
The Gap in the Bridge· Cell BuilderLook at the gap in the Comb Bridge and bring the cell builder six iron ingots and twelve pieces of flint for new chisels.
«In the Flight the drones built bridges between the combs, so they could cross without wings. Most broke when the combs came down; one still stands, with a new gap in the middle. I want to mend it — six walls to a cell, and not a hair of wax wasted. But my chisels are worn to stubs. Go and look at the gap for me, guest, and bring iron and flint for new chisels.»
A Wall to Stand Behind· Cell BuilderLive through the Waking of the Hive, when the shell-cousins climb out of the combs.
«Every so often the Comb wakes: the shell-cousins climb out of the combs, hungry and shooting, and the drones fly guard over them. We seal our lids and wait. You have no lid, guest, so you need a wall — a good one, six-sided, nothing wasted. Find one, stand behind it, and stand through to the end. The great ring is said to remember those who do. So will I.»
Follow the Dance· Drone WardenFollow a drone's dance to a sealed cell, open it, and bring the drone warden two pieces of hive amber from inside.
«When a drone has found a sealed cell full of amber, it comes back and dances a figure of eight. The straight run in the middle points the way; the longer the run, the farther the cell. My drones have been dancing for you, guest — I can tell, they keep turning to face you. Follow the dance, open the cell, and bring me two pieces of its amber: the drones' share. And run when the seal breaks. A broken seal wakes the guards.»
Smoke for the Drones· Drone Warden· repeatableBring the drone warden sixteen lumps of coal for the smoker.
«A puff of smoke, a soft word, and a drone settles down. The soft words I have plenty of; the smoke runs out every few days. Bring me the black burning stone from your world now and then, guest. My drones and I will be grateful — they in their way, I in mine.»
The Old Hive· ElderGo down into the Wax Deeps — the old hive inside the columns — and come back up.
«Before the Settling we did not live on the columns, guest, but inside them: wax works, nurseries, amber stores, bridges between the combs — and at the very bottom, the Mother's chamber. When she fell asleep, we sealed it all with wax and moved up. No keeper has been down since. Go down for us. Walk the old cells, come back up, and tell me whether the nurseries are still warm.»
The Mother's Shell· ElderWake the Mother of the Comb at the bottom of the Wax Deeps and defeat her.
«Now you know what sleeps at the bottom. Some of us pray she wakes and the combs fly again; some pray she never does. I have prayed both, guest, for longer than you have been alive. Her altar asks for the plate of one of her wardens: it tells her nobody is left to keep her, and she comes out herself. Open her shell for good. Let the Comb finish settling, one way or the other.»
The Ring Hums Like the Combs· ElderWake the gate ring of the Hive: the door between the cells.
«The great ring on the Comb is a door between cells, and it sleeps. To wake, it wants the Mother's jelly — yes, hers, I am sorry — and someone who has stood through a Waking. And a heap of void shards, and our amber and plates of chitin for its frames: six and six. Even the ring counts in sixes. Wake it, guest, and the Comb will hum the way it hummed in the Flight.»
Quartz That Hangs· Swarm PilotBring the swarm pilot six pieces of chorus quartz from the islands of the Interrift.
«Zzz — a ship with no wings. Good. Our cells drift, and drifting cells bump. The quartz under the chorus hangs where you let go of it. Six pieces, one for each wall — and the Comb keeps its shape.»
The One That Watches· Swarm PilotFly to the Vigil Eye, the station of the Lashkin by the rift of the Eye, and come back.
«Far along the dark there is a round thing that looks at us. All day. The drones dislike it. Fly there and find out whether it blinks. If it blinks, it is alive, and we can trade with it.»
Amber for the Court· Swarm PilotBring the swarm pilot four pieces of hive amber for the lamps of the Queen's Court.
«The Court upstairs is dim. Amber from home makes the right light, and home is through the rift. Four pieces. Then you may go up — once — and see what the Queen keeps.»
Runaway Wax· Swarm PilotBring the swarm pilot four lumps of runaway wax: runaway drones leave it when they fly off the hull of a slow ship.
«Zzz. Drones went out through the rift and did not come back. They still build — on rocks, on ships, on anything. Their wax carries the cell-print of the Comb, and the Queen wants her print home. Fly slow by the flying combs: they will sit on your hull, patch it, and leave a lump when they go. Four lumps.»
What to talk about
What were the Wing-Givers like?
Big. Kind, I think, but big. Our oldest piece of amber has a print pressed into it — a fingertip, nothing like a keeper's — and the fingertip alone is wider than a lid. The amber workers say it is theirs: the first cell of the Comb was sealed with one touch. And warm. Wax goes soft by a hearth, and the oldest wax we have is still softer than any other.
Then why did the Comb settle?
Because the Mother closed her shell. The old keepers say the hunger passed us by because the Comb is one creature with many hands, and it found nothing separate to bite. I think — keep your lid shut about it — the Mother heard it coming back. A closed shell does not shine, guest, and a Comb sitting still in the dark looks like a stone. The flight was their gift. The hiding was hers.
The tablet of Hunger tells of a swarm of mirrors around a star.
A swarm... that gathered light? Oh. Oh, the poor cells. We flew dark, and they hung there shining, catching light for someone, and the hunger came for the light. That is why the Wing-Givers gave us wings and not mirrors. There was another comb out there, guest, and nobody gave it wings.
The combs flew?
In the Flight everything floated: the combs, the wax, the amber, us. The drones carried bridges from comb to comb, and the Mother sat in the middle and hummed. Then she closed her shell, and everything came down. We call that the Settling. Sometimes the combs remember — then you feel light, and things rise out of the ground. Catch them.
What are the wells between the combs?
Cells that were never filled. Wax runs down into them from every comb around and sets at the bottom, layer on layer. The oldest layers are pressed so hard they turn to amber. The drones get angry when someone breaks a well's wall — and so do we, a little. And they are deep, guest. Very deep.
What do you call the other worlds?
Cells, of course. The Comb is one cell of a much greater comb, and the cracks you came through are cracks in its walls. Beyond them lie the Dark Cell, where our shell-cousins keep their purple towers, the Glass Cell, the Steam Cell and the Watching Cell. Yours is the Green Cell — you smell of it.
Who else lives in the Hive?
The wax grubs — little ones, they chew wax and purr; we keep them in the nurseries and scratch their caps. The drones, who fly in threes and keep the walls. Our shell-cousins, the shulkers, who never learned manners: they shoot first. And the wardens, deep down. Ask me about the drones and the wardens separately — those are long stories.
Who are you?
Keepers of the comb. When the Mother closed her shell, most of the shell-folk went through the cracks into the Dark Cell and grew wild there in their towers. We stayed. Every family keeps its own comb, seals its wax, trades its amber and remembers. Somebody has to keep the cells, guest, even if nobody is coming back to fill them.
What is your shell made of?
Wax and amber, and it is a cell itself: each of us is born in a cell and carries it all our life. The lid is my door and my hat and my mouth. When I am glad, it claps; when I am afraid, it slams, and then I sit inside until the world is quiet. If you ever hit one of us, that is what you will see — and that keeper will not speak to you for a good while.
Do you give anything to guests?
Honey. The first thing a keeper gives a guest is a cup of honey, so that the guest remembers the way back. Here, take two. Drink one when you are hurt; plant the other on a comb cap, and it will give you more.
How do you count wealth?
By sealed cells. A sealed cell holds something worth keeping — honey, amber, a memory pressed into wax. The young have open cells on their shells; the elder has every one sealed. When two keepers argue, they count each other's caps. The argument ends quickly.
What does each of you do?
The sealer wears a lid of white wax and carries a pot of hot wax on their back; the amber worker wears goggles and carries a lump of raw amber; the chorus tender grows a garden right on the lid; the cell builder wears a purple helmet and carries bricks; the drone warden has a wide hat with a drone sitting on it. And the elder has the crown and the staff with the amber sphere. You will know us from far away.
Are you kin to the shulkers?
Shell-cousins. We were one folk in the Flight. When the Comb came down, they went through the cracks into the Dark Cell, built purple towers there, and now they shoot at everything that moves. A few stayed and went wild in the nests on the combs — keep a shield ready near those. We are the ones who stayed and stayed polite.
What is chorus wax?
Chorus drinks the light of the Comb and sweats wax, and the Comb sweats it too, from every seam. Fresh wax is soft and smells of chorus; old wax runs down into the wells and sets; very old wax, pressed by the weight of the combs, becomes amber. Everything we own is wax of some age.
Names
Zumma · Mellis · Cera · Propo · Hessel · Tukk · Zerra · Sekka · Alvea · Heksa · Nekta · Ossel