This is one of the oldest stories of the wasps.
They are a sad race, you know. They have been cursed to decline, over the centuries, as slowly as melting ice. One day there will be nothing left of them that is a people. They will only be mindless drones. They will live, not a life, but the endless memory of their better days. That is not the story I will tell, however. The truth of it is sacred to them, and may only be repeated at certain times.
They are also a proud race. A wasp, even in these degenerate times, would rather die than be embarrassed in public. To impugn the intelligence, the rapacity, the decency, or the attractiveness of a wasp is to invite a duel to the death. The first sign of the final days, they believe, is when the wasps forget their pride, and become nothing more than -- if you will pardon the term -- animals. Pride has degrees, of course; the nobles have pride in their appearance and regality and their separation from the common folk, while the workers have pride in their work.
They were proud in the days long ago, as well, when a certain young wasp named Better Than Nothing was born. His coloration and scent were unusual, and the wisest of the wasps sat in council when he emerged from the egg. It was decided, finally, that he was not a worker, and was therefore worthy of respect. It was also decided that he was not a noble, and therefore he was at the nobles' command. His rank in society was much like a human priest's, although wasps do not have a religion as such.
As Better grew, it quickly became apparent that he had a keen intellect and an inferior physique. When he was of age, therefore, he became the assistant to the nest's Investigator -- a wasp policeman, if you will. This Investigator was named Braver Than You Might Think, and he was a cunning idiot. You can see why Better's services as assistant were needed, desired, and appreciated.
Better Than Nothing had one notable advantage and one notable weakness. His advantage was this: he could hear the Symphony. This was not unknown among the wasps; the Dominations of Jordi often have children in the insect world, and these children often have strange talents. Once the nest realized what it was that he heard, this was simply considered confirmation that he should be in an investigative role. His weakness was that sometimes the beautiful music of the Symphony got the best of him. Like a wasp possessed, he would wiggle his legs and swing his abdomen to the rocking beat of the Symphony, and no one could distract him while he danced. Since he was almost a noble, no worker ever questioned this; since he was almost beneath notice, no noble ever questioned this either.
Better and Braver did not work in isolation. Figuring prominently in their lives was the Grandmaster Inquisitor, who watched over their investigations, assigned punishments, and handled the really tricky cases -- libel and so forth. There were their flunkies, whose names have been lost to history, but who are often called Flunky One, Flunky Two, and Flunky Three. Then, of course, there was Braver's daughter, a firebrand named Elegant but Easily Forgettable. Elegant often paid visit to the two of them as they were hard at work and chatted about this thing or that -- the quality of mud in various places around the nest, how difficult it was to live up to the wasp standards of beauty, and her fiance du jour. This last was particularly common, and some of the stories were scandalous -- she never had much taste in males.
One day, as Better, Braver, and Elegant were flying in formation through the nearby woods, Flunky One hurried up to them and said, "Masters! Mistress! There has been a horrible crime committed!"
Elegant quieted, abandoning a long description of her current lover's virtues. Better twitched a foreleg in a traditional wasp gesture. It meant, of course, "Go on."
"It is the Lord Doesn't Fly in Circles, master. He has been dissected brutally, but that is not the worst of it. His wounds, masters! They will not stop bleeding, although he has been dead for over an hour!"
Better twitched. "Indeed." He curled his body into a concerned expression. "I heard the Symphonic echo of something dark roughly an hour and a sixth ago, but was unable to locate the source. This would seem to indicate demonic intervention."
"Demons never strike directly," Braver quoted, from an ancient story.
"Indeed not," Better said. "Or, at least, not in our experience. It is likely that they have used a wasp -- one of our own -- to commit this atrocity." He hung in the air a moment, deep in thought. "We must consider whether the flow of blood is a cause or a symptom."
"Master?" Flunky One asked, startled.
"Either the bleeding of Doesn't Fly is an important aspect of the crime, a deliberate accent as it were, or it was unavoidable -- that is, a natural consequence of the method used. Given that demons rarely strike directly against our folk, I would suspect an infernal weapon -- in this case." Better thought a moment more, and then gave a sharp buzz. "Have the body removed from the nest at once. Isolate the section where it bled. If there is a curse involved, this may prevent utter disaster. Locate all individuals who have the scent of the blood on them; I will wish to speak to them. And prepare a list of the places in the nest that one could not visit in a casual inspection; if there is an infernal relic, it would be carefully hidden."
Flunky One spun in the air and flew back to the hive at full speed. Elegant turned pensively to regard Better. "This is a poor season for such losses," she murmured. "We have few nobles -- almost too few to lead the nest properly."
Better's demeanor brightened at that. "Yes," he said. "This is true."
"You seem pleased," Braver pointed out.
"There is an ancient custom," Better Than Nothing explained, "which allows for the ascension of new nobles -- if the nest grows short. It has not been invoked in some time, but I may request that it be considered. I am, after all, the most logical candidate."
"Ah," Elegant said softly.
"Let us return," Braver suggested, and the three made all speed back to the nest. Flunky One had moved with alacrity; by the time of their return, Doesn't Fly's body lay on the ground beneath the nest and a section of the nest had been sealed.
Better dipped delicately down to examine the body. "He died in some pain," Better said, in deep thought. "Whatever killed him tore him apart a bit at a time. I wonder why he did not cry out."
"I have no thoughts," Braver said. Better Than Nothing silently agreed. "Perhaps his wings were immobilized?"
Better Than Nothing considered that. "No," he said, finally. "There is no mark on them -- they were not bound." He circled in the air above the body. "Yet -- come, Braver Than You Might Think, and examine his stomach. See you there? Does that not seem to be caterpillar? And not just any caterpillar; that creature was royalty of its kind."
"We captured a Queen among caterpillars," Braver said, peering down at the body. "Not five days ago today. Her meat was reserved for a high state occasion, however, and a noble of stature as low as Doesn't Fly should never have gorged on it alone."
Better hummed an affirmation. "It is a delicacy I have never tasted," he said, judiciously. "And perhaps that explains his silence. Was Doesn't Fly known to be a temperate wasp?"
"No," Braver admitted. "No, he was not."
"Perhaps he did not cry out because he was too gorged on an impossibly rare meat to move."
"It would be possible," Braver admitted. "Although I hesitate to believe it."
Better Than Nothing drifted back upwards. "Elegant," he said, "I begin to suspect a conspiracy of the highest order. I will require the services of a noble not commonly associated with Investigation. Your fiance -- how much do you trust him?"
"With my life!" she declared stoutly, and then hesitated. "I do not think he will be of much assistance, however. He is on a long-range scouting mission at the moment."
"Ah." Better's wingbeats sighed. "Then I shall have to do without."
Flunky One dropped down from the nest and said, "Master, Mistress, I have good news and bad."
"We will have both, then," Braver snapped, drifting back up to a level with them.
"The good news, Master, is that I have assembled the group that Half-Lord Better has requested -- all of those with the scent of blood upon them. The bad news is that there have been two more corpses found. If I may make my own observation, I believe that all three died at nearly the same moment."
"I see," Better said, and looked down for a moment. "Have the bodies disposed of as before. Lead me to those with the scent of blood, and with your fellows Flunky Two and Flunky Three determine who had access to the royal caterpillar captured recently."
There was a long pause.
"Now," Better Than Nothing snapped. "You may look longingly hungry on your own time."
"I do not have my own time, Master," Flunky One pointed out. A few moments later, he buzzed up to the nest with the three companions following, and presented them to a handful of worker wasps and one noble. The scent of blood clung to all of them. "The individuals you requested, Master."
"You may go." Better Than Nothing looked out over the group. Then slowly and casually he circled above the group, approaching each one in turn. Over one of them, he hesitated for a particularly long time. "You," he said, "have the smell of caterpillar."
The wasp was silent. Better angled back to join Braver and Elegant.
"Lord Braver," he said, "with three nobles dead, it is perhaps time that you request a new noble be appointed."
"We are on a case," Braver responded. "Or have you forgotten?"
"Lord, I shall never have a better opportunity. Tell the Lords, when they have gathered, that I will bring the murderer before them and dismember him myself. As you love me, Master, I ask that you do this thing."
Elegant made a delighted dance step in the air, and said, "Father, yes. Come with me and call the Lords together."
"You must find the murder weapon as well," Braver said, heavily.
"Precisely, Lord Braver. You can see as well as I that that wasp there, who smells both of caterpillar and of blood, must in turn be the murderer. But before I can bring an accusation against him, I must go to his chamber and discover the weapon -- and once I have done this, I must make that accusation. You see my position."
"I see it exactly," Braver Than You Might Think replied. "And I will do as you ask."
Elegant, impatiently, led her father away. Better Than Nothing looked out at the wasps and said, softly, "All of you. Scatter. Except for you. You will accompany me to your chamber."
Braver, as has been said, was a cunning wasp. When he had gathered the Lords together, he spoke words of betrayal, and with no preamble. "Gathered honorable ones," he said, "I come before you with news and with a request. The request, first, is that we invoke the old custom -- and replace the dead Lords with a new one. The news is this: I have discovered the murderer. I will announce his name, and provide proof, shortly."
An elderly wasp said, "You are to be commended, Braver. But whom do you wish to raise to join us?"
"A worker named 'Demonstrate The Truth.'"
Elegant, in the back of the room, glowed with radiant joy.
"Does he have references?" the elder wondered.
"My daughter will vouch for him," Braver said. "They have had converse -- limited, of course, by the difference in their stations."
"Then we shall vote," said the elder. In short order, the worker Demonstrate the Truth was a worker no longer. He was called from his place in the nest and invested with nobility. It sat well upon his shoulders, and he touched wings with Elegant in a merry and almost improper motion.
"A few minutes ago," the elder wasp wryly commented, "they should both have had to commit suicide after being seen in such a manner. It is fortunate that he has become greater. -- Braver, perhaps you would present the murderer now?"
"Flunky One!" Braver snapped. "Find Better Than Nothing. Flunky Two! Go and see if the murder weapon has been recovered from the room of the worker Falling Down. Flunky Three! Bring the worker himself."
"You know the names of a surprising number of workers," the elder commented.
Braver wiggled his wings in a neutral gesture. A few moments later, Flunky One returned. "Master, Better Than Nothing is dancing."
"Dancing?" Braver said, in disbelief. "Have him stop immediately."
"Master, have you ever attempted this thing? I assure you, it is impossible."
Braver shook his head. "Well," he said, "Flunky One, at least you are a witness to the fact that Better's deductions match my own."
A few moments later, Flunky Three returned. "The worker is dead, Master," he said, in a hushed voice. "After a substantial conversation with Better Than Nothing, he has committed honorable suicide. Master, you do have substantial proof of your claims, yes? It may be hard to pin blame on him now --"
"Of course I do," Braver snapped, even as Flunky Two returned.
"No murder weapon was found in his chamber," Flunky Two reported. "We have searched it thoroughly."
"But that's impossible," Braver said, softly. "I know it was there."
"Braver Than You Might Think," the elder wasp said, "you have made a promise to the assembled Lords. You have said that you can provide us with the murderer and proof. Are you saying that you cannot do so?"
Braver's face was pale, but he was a wasp. Death was preferable to humiliation. "I can do so indeed, Lords. I slew the three, and my word is more than sufficient proof of this thing."
So it was that Braver Than You Might Think was torn to shreds by the Lords, and, at the end, he proved not to be quite as brave as he had thought. When the last of the screams had died, Better Than Nothing finished his dance, and hummed with a quiet satisfaction.
"I do not understand, Investigator Better," Flunky Two said, some time later.
"Braver was a cunning creature," Better Than Nothing said. "Arranging for a worker who guarded the royal caterpillar meat to encounter Doesn't Fly's blood was simple enough; he could anticipate the resolution to my investigation. He might even have guessed that I would propose that a new Lord be created. All that was necessary to save his reputation was that the demon blade be found in that worker's quarters -- then he would be lauded. His daughter's relationship with a worker, which would have been scandalous, would become acceptable. He himself would have been clean. I could never have accused him myself."
"But why wasn't the blade in the worker's quarters?"
"I removed it," Better said. "Nasty thing. But you never know when I might need it."
"Hell might come to claim it back," Flunky One pointed out.
"I'm sure," Better Than Nothing said, "that Hell will be happy with Braver's soul. And I am happy to be an Investigator, and to see Elegant unshamed and wed -- it is not a noble title of my own, but it is certainly better than nothing."
And that's the story.