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"You go to the edge of the Forest of Death," Ikea said. "You do not cross all the way through. You do not wander. You do not follow pretty lights. You stay where the trees still remember listening to mortals. Because deeper in there are old monsters at nine star and a few rulers older than your mountain who kill first and ask questions if the corpse is interesting."
"Encouraging," Kai muttered.
"The bee empire has many healing lines," Ikea continued as if he had not spoken. "Queens who command it, workers who weave it, drones who carry it. If you can negotiate properly —without stepping on old grudges— you can probably convince a few healers to come to your mountain. Or at least to make your ramp a relay for their work. They like trade. Stories. New pollen. They loathe boredom. Offer them any of those and you will have their attention."
"Bees as healers," Kai said, almost to himself. "That would solve a lot of problems. And cause a few new ones."
