"I bid you welcome to my lair. …no, forgive me, the word 'lair' sounds too sinister. Welcome to my home."

I looked up, searching for the source of the melodic voice.

"Ah, you'd like to see me, would you? I hope you'll forgive me if I'm reluctant to show myself. You two have quite the reputation as ant-killers, and given what you've done to my minions on several occasions, I presume you understand my sense of caution."

"We come in peace," I said. "We didn't come expecting a fight. In fact, I think that we share a common enemy."

"True, true," came the voice, echoing off the walls and filling the air overhead with a resonant hum. "Still, you two have demonstrated a capability for violence in the past, and allies of convenience are often the first to turn on their friends."

"Octavia and I aren't just allies of convenience," I said, hoping my spider companion didn't mind that I was doing all the talking. "We value the same things. We get along well. We're friends. And we came here hoping that we could call you our friend, whoever you are."

"Octavia, that would be the eight-legged one, hmm? And what might your name be?"

"I'm Drew. Or 'little dragon,' depending on who you ask. Do you have a name I can call you by?"

"Hmm, a name? Funny, I haven't needed one of those for a long time. I suppose Anne will do. Does that sound sufficiently regal?"

"Anne," said Octavia. "That's a lovely name."

"Yes," I said. "A graceful name befitting a queen."

Anne, still not choosing to show herself, chuckled. "You're quite the diplomat, Drew. Or, perhaps I should say, 'little dragon.' I do appreciate the flattery, but you're making quite the assumption there. I never said I was a queen."

"The armored ants seem to answer at your beck and call," I said. "I always assumed they had a queen. And you have a regal air about you."

A low, resonant laugh echoed around us. "Drew, the diplomat dragon. You are quite amusing. I am not immune to flattery, and in fact, I quite enjoy it. Please, if you have any more praise for me, don't hesitate to share it."

"You've done an excellent job of taking care of the fire ants," I said.

"Ah, yes," Anne said. "Those. Well, you know what they say. Knowledge is power, know your adversary, and your victory is inevitable. I do happen to be the world's foremost expert on the fire ants. They don't have a single capability that eludes my knowledge."

"Unsurprising," I said. "Have you had any run-ins with their queen?"

Anne chittered. "Queen of the fire ants, you say?"

"I just assumed they had a queen," I said. "If you're the world's foremost experts on fire ants, then maybe you know a thing or two about who their queen would be."

Anne hummed. "Queen of the fire ants. Well, I suppose I do know her, in a sense. I suppose you could say…she's me."

Octavia gasped and took several steps back. My eyes darted around the room, trying to locate Anne, but finding nothing. I felt my ears twitching as I did an involuntary check of my vitals

HP: 30/30 SP: 17/18

"Hmm?" Anne's voice echoed around us. "Something wrong, my dear Octavia? What has you suddenly on edge?"

"I…" Octavia stammered. "What exactly did you mean by that?"

"Oh," said Anne. "As I said, I suppose I'm the queen of the fire ants, or the closest thing they have to a queen. I wouldn't call them my minions, per se; that, I reserve for these ones." The black armored ants around us tapped their mandibles together in unison.

I looked up. "I've seen fire ants fighting with armored ants. Seems you've got a civil war on your hands."

"Indeed," said Anne. Though perhaps 'civil war' is less apt as a description than 'insurrection,' and to even call it that is overstating it. They're like a misbehaving child – or, no, that's not the right analogy either, even if I was the one to spawn them. They're like an unruly pet that refuses to be docile and obedient, no matter how much training or discipline you use. The pet where you've exhausted every option and come to the conclusion that, sadly, there's no option other than for it to be put down."

"You spawned them?" I asked. "Could you elaborate on that? Are the armored ants also your spawn?"

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"Yes on both counts," said Anne. "The armored ants are my spawn. In a way, these armored ants are an extension of myself. They only do what I command them to do. Even when I send them away from the nest, they can only follow a very limited set of instructions that I've fed them, and once they've executed those instructions, they need to be fed new instructions."

"That sounds like it could get pretty time-consuming," I said.

"It does!" said Anne. "That was always my limitation. I was spending all day giving instructions to my ants, and there are only so many hours in a day. I wanted to create a set of ants that could be more autonomous, without the need to constantly be fed new instructions. Things would be so much easier if each of my workers could be fully instructed from birth with everything it would need to serve my interests."

"And how did that work out?" I asked, pretty sure that I already knew the answer.

"Well, you've seen the fire ants," said Anne, confirming my suspicion. "They can be very effective at whatever they set their minds to. Unfortunately, that apparently doesn't involve following my instructions."

"They rebelled?" said Octavia.

"It could scarcely be described as a rebellion," said Anne. "I believe they barely know themselves what it is they're doing. I believe that they're just carrying out the instructions I programmed them with since birth."

Octavia spoke, sounding a bit impatient. "If you could have built the fire ants with any instructions, why didn't you build them to be obedient to your orders?"

Anne let out a low chuckle. "Ah, how simple life could be. If only, if only. That was one of my first ideas. I mastered the power of speech specifically to see if it would be an effective way of giving them orders. But it turns out that 'speech' ability doesn't actually assist in communicating with my ant minions. In fact, I had long considered this skill useless, until you two showed up."

"Well," said Octavia, "I'm glad that all three of us met. I bet you've been waiting a long time to have someone to talk to."

"Hmm?" said Anne. "No, not particularly. My minions aren't much for conversation, but they're good company."

"Speaking of 'company,'" said Octavia, "how about joining us down here?"

Anne's chuckle echoed off the walls. "Oh, you'd like to see my face, would you? Why is that so important to you?"

"You can see us, can't you?" said Octavia.

Anne's voice took on a tone of impatience. "Yes, and…?"

"Reciprocity seems like the foundation of a good relationship," I said. "You said you wanted our help, right? Well, how about a little mutual trust? We've come here to your lair – er, your home – and you've got us surrounded. I don't mind entering a position of vulnerability, but one-sided vulnerability isn't really trust, is it?"

"But I have been vulnerable with you," said Anne. "I've been telling you all of my secrets, haven't I? Is it really so important that you see my face?"

"I suppose it's not," I said. "If this is the only way you're going to feel comfortable talking, then it's fine with me. But speaking face-to-face will allow us to understand each other better, don't you think? You know what they say about most communication being non-verbal."

"Who says that?" said Anne.

"I…well, I don't know exactly who," I said. "But I've heard it said often enough, and it seems intuitively true. Being able to see someone's expressions and gestures is always going to let you understand more of what they're trying to communicate than if you only have their voice to go by."

"Alright," said Anne. "I will admit that you two don't seem to be as combat minded as I had feared you might be. Octavia, I haven't seen you move to spin a web once since arriving here. Any reason for that?"

"It seemed rude," said Octavia. "I wouldn't want to make a mess."

"And you, Drew," said Anne. "You've just been staring at the ceiling. Have you nothing better to do with your attention than stare in my general direction, hoping that I'll reveal myself? You certainly don't have the disposition of a tactician. You've been completely oblivious to the horde of ants gathering behind you."

I swiveled around, and saw that in addition to the armored ants that stood at the perimeter of the room, an even greater number of them had amassed directly behind me. It could have been an ambush, had Anne not drawn my attention to it.

"Guess not," I said. "I didn't step in here expecting to do battle, at least. I just came for a bit of conversation, and staring in the general direction of where your voice is coming from is the closest thing to eye contact until you decide to show yourself."

"It would seem that you truly do come in peace." Anne sounded amused. "Alright, I suppose I should offer you a proper introduction. But if you open that dragon mouth of yours and something foul-smelling comes out, I'm going to take it as a hostile act and respond in kind, understood? I've perceived what you've done to my ants, and I don't want it happening to me."

"Of course," I said.

"And no spider webs while you're here," said Anne. "Not without my say so."

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Octavia. "Your home, your rules."

"Good," said Anne. "I would find it incredibly distasteful to have to resort to, well, you know." The ants around us tapped their mandibles in unison. So much for 'trust.' Baby steps…

I caught the sight of movement on the ceiling. Beside me, Octavia shifted uneasily, her eight legs clicking on the stone floor.

Suddenly, the ceiling seemed to spring to life, filling the air with a rhythmic vibration as I caught sight of the swirling pattern overhead. It took a moment for me to realize that the shifting pattern of the ceiling was ants – not armored ants, but some different kind of ant, smaller than the armored ants, so dense that they had completely covered every spec of the ceiling. The ants swept across the ceiling, revealing the light of a glowstone ceiling.

A warm, ethereal light bathed the chamber, and a group of ants – larger than the ones on the ceiling, but smaller than the armored ants – descended the walls. As they descended, I realized that the mass of ants was carrying something – or someone. A massive ant, ten times the size of the largest ant I'd ever seen. Their queen.

"Anne," I whispered.

Her body glinted with a polished sheen as the workers ferried her down. Her multifaceted eyes shimmered in the glowstone's light, and her slender antennae quivered in something that looked like anticipation as her procession approached us.

The workers set her down gently before us, then formed a perimeter around her, standing as attentive and vigilant as any royal guard.

"Now," said Anne, "Where were we?"