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Though Maya's resting-place still lay in cool shadow, the leaves overhead shone like green gold. "Oh, you glorious world," thought the little bee. Slowly, one by one, the experiences of the previous day came back to her all the beauties she had seen and all the risks she had run. She remained firm in her resolve not to return to the hive.
Even though our princess slept, he would take her into space with him. And she would awaken some day with the smoke of plundered worlds in her nostrils. Yes, she would awaken to be his slave, even as he had promised us that night in Maya's home when we fought. And I wish I had killed the beast then.
But they have asked the wild things of the moss-country to dine with them, and now they can't get rid of their guests. If Grim Hagen and his soldiers should die, they would give up in a minute." "Are your men still armed, Val?" Odin asked. "Aye. They know to hang on to their weapons." "Not all of Maya's people are," Odin said. "I don't like the idea of the children and old men fighting."
The door at the other end of the room opened, and a man emerged, a heatgun in his hand. Vidonati stopped in his tracks, startled, at the sight of Dark and Maya. Dark grunted in surprise, and reached for his heatgun. Even as Dark freed his weapon, Vidonati fired. The beam missed them, melting away the top of Maya's marshelmet and setting the bunk aflame.
A hundred feet away, in another room, Nuwell pulled on a pair of black gloves and picked up a short, thick-lashed whip. Coiling the whip, he stepped out into the corridor, and turned toward Maya's room. He met Placer, walking in the opposite direction. "You're going to make your last try, now?" asked Placer. "Yes," replied Nuwell. "I hope it works.
A thrown knife caught him in the chest. Gunnar took another step, and another knife caught him below the throat. He stood there, trying to go on, and a mace thudded against his temple. Gunnar reeled back into the flames. A deadening quiet fell over the huge room where Maya's and Ato's little armies were making their last stand. The flames were dying out in the tunnels and on the stairway.
Then he turned back to Old Beard, his arm around Maya's shoulders. "Old Beard, this is Maya Cara Nome," said Dark. "Maya, this is my father, the real Dark Kensington." "The older Dark Kensington," corrected Old Beard. "I am very happy to meet you, Maya. My son, you have chosen a beautiful woman."
"Turn the light upon her forearm, now," he instructed. Gunnar slowly counted to sixty after he had given her the shot. Maya's breasts moved. She sighed and raised a hand to her dark curls. Then her eyes opened in fear and wonder as a child opens its eyes in a strange place. Then her vision cleared and she recognized them. "Jack Gunnar " she gasped. Then she was in Odin's arms.
The bees were deeply stirred. There was not one among them who did not share Maya's happiness, who was not deeply grateful for the little bee's valiant deed. Maya now had to tell her whole story. Everybody wanted to know how she had learned of the hornets' plans and how she had succeeded in breaking out of the awful prison from which no bee had ever before escaped.
The opal upon Maya's finger grew dim, but she moved toward the unlit wood, and at her approach the false pretence betrayed itself; the ice glared before her, and chilled her to the soul, as its shroud of bark fell off. She fled over the threshold, and the house-spirit laughed with bitter mirth; but the Spark was safe.
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