"My mother died," said Hazard wanly. "Frill outran them, but my mother was bitten first."
There was nothing to say after that. No explaining to Hazard that they were safe. Around any corner could be another swarm of stingers. Another plague. Another way to die.
Some mouse had scratched that mark in the cave wall. Cevian had made the same mark at Queenshead. Why? What threat was upon them? Gregor didn't believe it had to do with the plague. Or the snakes.
"Hazard, when you lived in the jungle, how did the nibblers get along with the snakes?" asked Gregor. "The ones that look like vines."
"You mean the twisters?" said Hazard. "They avoided each other. The twisters eat the nibbler pups, and the nibblers eat the twister eggs," he said.
"It is true," said Luxa. "The twisters never came near the nibblers when I was there. I believe neither thought it was worth the risk."
"So you think the twisters only moved in after the mice had left?" asked Howard.
"That is my hope," said Luxa. "But also my fear. It would mean that not one but two colonies of nibblers have left their homes because of an unknown threat."
"It sounds as if they have a lot of enemies," said Gregor. "The spinners, the cutters —"
"Those were land disputes. Once the nibblers had left their regions, neither the spinners nor cutters had any interest in pursuing them. I can think of only one animal that would do that," said Howard.
No one had to mention the rats. They all knew who Howard was talking about.
They had snacked from the picnic baskets on the flight, mostly eating whatever was on top. Now Howard laid out the delicacies the cook had prepared. Spicy fish salads, a dozen kinds of cheese, pickled vegetables, roasted chicken, sliced beef, stuffed eggs, several loaves of bread, and a variety of sweets. It was an amazing spread, but no one really enjoyed it except Boots. She ate until her belly stuck out like a basketball. "See?" she said to Gregor, pulling up her shirt. He poked her stomach and shook his head. "Talk about eating like a shiner!" he said. She was probably about to hit a growth spurt. At least, he hoped so.
By the time the picnic was over, everyone was dropping from fatigue. Except Boots, who'd had a nice long nap on the trip and was ready to play. They broke up guard duty into two-hour shifts. Gregor and Temp volunteered for the first watch.
Gregor dug in his backpack for something to keep his sister quiet. Since he hadn't planned to bring her along, he hadn't come prepared to entertain her. The best he could do was the binoculars.
"Look, Boots, magic glasses," he told her. He had to take a few minutes to show her how to look through the binoculars. She was fascinated by the magnified images. She peered into the eyepieces and then dropped them down repeatedly. "Temp is big. Temp is small. Temp is big. Temp is small."
"Shh. Everybody's going to sleep," said Gregor.
"Temp is big. Temp is small. Temp is big. Temp is small," whispered Boots.
Gregor was glad to get a little time with the cockroach. Temp rarely spoke in large groups, although in private he'd chatter along with Boots and Hazard in that bizarre mixture of English and Cockroach the three had developed. Most of the time, it was easy to forget Temp was there.
"So, Temp, what do you make of this thing with the nibblers?" asked Gregor when the others were asleep.
"Hate the nibblers, the rats do, hate the nibblers," said Temp.
"Well, we don't know if the rats are involved yet," said Gregor.
"It be too late, the knowing, it be," said Temp.
"Too late for what, Temp?" said Gregor.
"For the doing," said Temp.
"Doing something to help the nibblers, you mean?" asked Gregor, and the roach nodded.
By the time Gregor's watch was over, Boots had worn herself out. He lay down with her, and she soon drifted off. It took him a little longer. He kept thinking about what Temp had said, about it being too late for the doing. Gregor glanced unhappily around the empty colony, afraid that the cockroach might be right.
No one felt satisfied with the idea of returning to Regalia the next morning.
"What we have seen will not be enough to incite the council to action," said Luxa.
"Perhaps telling the story of your crown will aid our case, after all," said Howard.
"No. As Cevian was not able to tell us the reason she sent it, it will be assumed the twisters drove the nibblers out of the jungle and have gone in search of a new home," said Luxa.