by Jean Gill
‘Your maiden flight?’
Yes, when my outside shell has hardened enough to leave the hive. What is it like?
Girl talk in a beehive! Mielitta considered her answer. ‘A wild ride,’ she answered. ‘You will know what to do. Fly high, fly fast and make them work to catch you.’
How many caught you?
‘Twelve. Which is good enough but you should try for fifteen of the best drones. Keep flying until then. That should guarantee you respect and a long life.’ One mating flight and a lifetime’s worth of fertilised eggs. When the eggs ran out, the queen’s life would become worthless.
Why does a long life matter?
‘Because…’ Mielitta couldn’t find an answer that could be communicated to a bee. In fact, she was no longer sure that she had an answer. She’d often heard the phrase ‘good, long life’ and never questioned what was good about ‘long’.
‘Because you and I have a special bond,’ she said. ‘Because my people need you, not just any queen.’
This caused much puzzlement. Special made no sense and was dismissed. Me was considered longer. Finally, the queen concluded. Yes, the Queen of my people, here in this hive, has this bond. No need to worry about how long I live. Our bees will dance all that is needed to the next queen when she comes. Thank you for all you have done. I will call you when I need you and you will call me when you need me. My people will come to you.
‘And I will come to you when you need me.’ How could Mielitta not give her word when she felt their connection in her guts?
‘The Forest is in danger,’ she blurted out, remembering Rinduran and Bastien, the Councillors, the wards on the water gate. ‘And our people, our bees.’
I know. That knowledge has come to me because of you. We will protect our people and the Forest together. And my people will help you in your other world. It must be hard to be queen there.
Mielitta laughed, bitter. ‘Yes, it’s very hard to be queen there.’
Go then, to your other world.
‘Mielitta’s stomach heaved and her body blurred from six legs to two, five eyes to two, two mid-sections to one and she whirled in nausea. She would far rather travel in her own physical body through the Forest to the water gate and Citadel but that required inhabiting her own human form, which was where, exactly?
She remembered being in the library, feeling her bee sigil burn and summon her, but she had no idea when that had been. She’d been away long enough to mate, murder, lay eggs and discuss apian manners – no word could cover how long that felt to her but she thought she’d probably passed six or seven nights away from the Citadel.
She opened her eyes. She was not in the library. She was lying on her bed, fully dressed, and a man was staring at her. She curved her back to stab him with her sting, while knowing full well that she could only kill other queens.
‘How did you get into my chamber?’ she asked him. The wards were supposed to be proof against all break-ins, by force or even magecraft, the one place she could guarantee safety, and yet, of all people, Jannlou was here. She would never have invited him in, not even if he’d used glamour at full strength!
His blue eyes sparkled, as if she’d said something funny.
‘It’s my chamber,’ he told her. With dawning horror she took in her surroundings. Of course all beds and their covers looked the same but the chest was black metal instead of woodette and there was no little mirror. The window was on the opposite side and a man’s clothes were folded on a chair, beside a cushion embroidered with the Magaram monogram. She was a prisoner and her only weapon was missing.
Chapter Fifteen
Mielitta’s bee sigil throbbed with power, offering her an escape route. If she could pass the wards of the Maturity Barn, then she could break out of Jannlou’s chamber in bee form. But if she did so, Jannlou would alert his father and the whole Citadel would know she was a Forest traitor. Could she defy the Council of Ten, who would surely hunt her down?
And why in the stones’ name was her human body lying on Jannlou’s bed? What had it – she – been doing while Mielitta was also in the beehive? She needed to find out what had happened and she wouldn’t do that if she shifted shape and tried to fly. She ran through a wild range of reasons why Jannlou might want her in his chamber. None of them helped her think, so she became the Assistant Librarian once more and blinked at the mage.
‘Good. I see you’re back in the land of the living.’ Jannlou moved towards her, bulky, muscles shining brown under the skin of his bare arms. He had the lithe power of a big man who trained hard.
She flinched backwards, hand clutching her own neck as if scared, reaching for her arrowhead. Nothing. The chain had gone. Death and damnation!
‘I-I-I don’t know what you mean. Please don’t hurt me. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.’ It was always safe to assume you’d done something wrong. She added for good measure, ‘Or why I’m here. Or anything that happened.’ Stones! That was a mistake. If he’d raped her, he was hardly going to admit it if she said she remembered nothing! But she didn’t feel as if she’d been abused. Surely, even if there’d been something consensual between them, her body would feel different? She flushed at the thought, focused on the puzzle of what was going on. She felt a little spaced out, but only her head felt strange, nothing else.
‘I feel woozy,’ she told him, wondering if she’d been a victim of his magecraft. She watched his reaction closely but those startling blue eyes seemed as wary of her as she of him.
‘What do you remember?’
Laying a thousand eggs a day after a successful maiden flight. Saving my people. It was easy to look dazed, as if she was struggling to get her memory back.
‘I was in the library, organising the books.’ While the bees were cleaning. ‘I’d reached Ancient Natural History and survival stories and was just deciding whether to keep the survival stories together in a separate section or to categorise them by the survival environment…’
Did that sound too intelligent for a new adult? Jannlou was nodding encouragement, and at least he hadn’t jumped on her with either a knife or amorous intent, so she sat up. He stood still, neither threatening nor relaxed.
She risked further movement, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She felt less vulnerable sitting, with her bare feet firmly on the spotless woodette floor. She could see her boots, placed neatly side by side under the chair which held Jannlou’s overclothes, but at least she seemed to be wearing all of her own garments.
She licked her dry lips and continued, ‘…when I must have blacked out. I don’t remember anything until I woke up here.’ Too late now to pretend she did. She’d just have to watch his face for lies or evasions. Fat chance of catching a mage in either – it was what they did for a living!
He nodded as if he’d come to some conclusion. ‘That’s where I found you. I was seeking some information in the library…’
Evasion, she thought. I wonder what sort of book he wanted.
‘… and I saw you picking up books, walking round with them, putting them on shelves. You took the same books off the shelf, carried them back to the stool you’d taken them from and placed them there. Then you repeated the same sequence. I watched you do this several times before I spoke to you. You acted as if I didn’t exist and I thought you were ignoring me, to provoke me.’
Wide-eyed and innocent, Mielitta asked, ‘Why would I do such a thing, my Lord Mage? Surely I must have been ill to behave so?’
He looked away from her, studied the pile of clothing on the chair, the boots underneath. When his gaze returned, it was unveiled. No silver today, no clouds, no canopy, she thought. Sky blue with violet nuances. You can’t hide from the sky. She looked down.
‘Apprentice Mage,’ he corrected her. ‘And I know who you are, Mielitta.’
She giggled. ‘That’s who I was,’ she corrected. ‘Before my Maturity Ceremony. Before I became a new adult. Now,’ she showed pride in her office, ‘now I’m Assistant Librar
ian.’ Her heart thumped, so loud he must surely hear it.
‘You are – you were – the girl my friend Bastien thought was a threat to our society. A threat Bastien wanted to render harmless.’ To suppress, she thought. Should she tell him what Bastien and his father were plotting? What Bastien really thought of Jannlou? He’d never believe her. But she had shaken his confidence in his previous judgement of her; perhaps enough, perhaps not.
‘I don’t understand why Mage Bastien, Apprentice Mage Bastien, would think such a thing.’ She kept her voice gentle, soft, womanly. ‘I was not selected, so I trained and became good at child’s play because I had more years than most to do so. But when I was tested, I left childish ways behind.’ She let her hand slip to her neck. ‘I kept a lucky arrow as a souvenir but, now I am an adult, I have given up all the behaviour that might have annoyed your friend. And you,’ she added, remembering all too well Jannlou’s speed as he chased her, calling out to Bastien where she was.
Did she imagine it or was it his turn to grow hot-faced? Difficult to tell with his dark skin tone – he was lucky in that too!
‘I’m surprised you passed the test after all this time,’ was all he said.
‘May Perfection continue to guide and protect me,’ she smiled at him. A thought struck her. ‘Maybe that is why I’ve been ill. The Maturity Test and Ceremony affected me because I was older. And you rescued me.’ She batted her eyelashes and smiled. Possibly, she thought. But I reserve judgement on your motives. Something troubled her at the thought of the Maturity Test. Something she had to remember. Danger. But not to her. Danger to somebody else. She dismissed the half-memory. Once she was out of this trap, she would spend time recalling the days before her time in the beehive.
‘I went back to the library at the end of the day and you were still repeating the same ritual.’ He shrugged. ‘So I took your arm and led you to my chamber. Nobody noticed your odd behaviour and nobody considered it strange that I should bring a lady here.’ His eyes crinkled in laughter. ‘I fed you and I took you back to the library each day so nobody would notice. And then today you came back to yourself.’
‘You fed me?’ Mielitta remembered opening her mouth, accepting nectar, regurgitated food, honey. She wanted to giggle at the thought of Jannlou’s tongue down her throat. Then she flushed again.
He nodded. ‘I brought you water and food. It would have been too difficult to take you to the Great Hall, too obvious that there was something seriously wrong with you. When you were here, after feeding, you slept. And nobody noticed you carrying the same books over and over, in the library.’
‘No, they wouldn’t.’ She frowned. ‘How long have I been here?’
‘Two nights. This is the third day.’
Exploring the hive, fighting the queens, her maiden flight, her triumphant if short reign had taken far more than three days. Time behaved differently in the beehive – or perhaps in the Forest. Shelved under to be revisited. She had spent far longer than three days in the beehive. Then she registered all the implications of Jannlou’s words. Nights. Where had he slept?
As if he’d read her mind, Jannlou shook his head. ‘I slept on the floor, on a blanket. Good training.’ His eyes sparkled.
She had to ask. ‘Why did you look after me?’
‘Because you’re a lady.’ Lie.
The thing she couldn’t bring to mind teased her memory. She was getting closer to it. ‘Bastien.’ She frowned then remembered to look vacant, uncaring. ‘I mean, Apprentice Mage Bastien, your friend; he has seen me too and knows I’m an adult now?’
‘I don’t think he’s recognised you.’ Hesitation. ‘I will tell him that he need look no further.’ So Bastien had been looking. There was something she should remember. She shook her head to clear it but the hint of a memory was gone.
‘Then I may go now?’ She stood up, half expecting him to reach out a hand, stop her.
Instead, he crossed to the chair, picked up her boots. ‘You’ll need these.’
While she was lacing her boots, she asked, ‘You haven’t seen my lucky pendant by any chance? My necklace?’
He moved so quietly that she almost bumped into him as she straightened. Before she recovered, he slipped the chain around her neck and let the arrow drop down her bodice to nestle in its accustomed place. Darkening, navy and purple, his eyes did not follow the pendant but held hers.
‘I didn’t want you to do me some mischief,’ he told her gravely but his eyes were alight with laughter. ‘While you were not yourself.’
She remembered all too well the mischief she’d tried to do to both him and Bastien while she was herself and she couldn’t help smiling.
‘Oh no,’ she spoke to herself as much as to him, backing away. ‘I’m not falling for that mage glamour, so you can just keep your magecraft to yourself, thank you very much.’
He merely looked puzzled and she collected herself, blushing yet again. ‘I mean, I’m much obliged but I shouldn’t be here. I must go.’
He reached under the bed – they must all keep their treasures in the same place! – and he pulled out a book she recognised straight away. Survival in the Forest.
‘You had this one tucked under your arm and wouldn’t let go of it until you were asleep,’ he told her.
Oh, stones. Now what must he think of her. After all that play-acting to hide her true nature. Her brow cleared. ‘Thanks be to Perfection!’ she said brightly. ‘Mage Yacinthe asked me to find such a book and deliver it to her.’
He didn’t challenge her explanation. No doubt Mage Yacinthe would come under suspicion for her reading tastes but it couldn’t be helped.
‘It’s time you went to the library and shelved some books.’ Jannlou opened the door and she fled through it, sure she could hear gusts of gruff laughter in the chamber behind her. The walls echoed her footsteps all the way to the library.
‘Drone,’ she muttered. ‘He’s just a drone.’
Stung into a rebuke, her inner bee pointed out, Without drones, we have no people. Their strength and their deaths create our lives.
‘Bees,’ replied Mielitta, ‘do not see the full picture.’
Chapter Sixteen
With only books for company, Mielitta pursued her cataloguing as mechanically as if her spirit were still in the beehive. Fungi Identification took its place beside Flora in Wetlands and Wolds while she tried to catalogue her thoughts, a more difficult exercise.
Whenever a title made her hesitate between categories, she placed it in her To be revisited bookstack, cleared for that purpose. She did the same with the questions that led nowhere. To be revisited. Why had Jannlou helped her after years as gang leader, making her life hell? What was he hiding?
Her attempt to evaluate what she knew of her new powers was more fruitful. Whether it was a psychedelic experience, entirely in her own head, or not, made no difference subjectively. She felt connected to a community of bees, via the sigil on her thigh and voices in her head. She could summon their qualities to help her and sometimes they came unasked. That was a danger if she wished to remain invisible, innocuous among the Citadel adults.
If she was to believe Jannlou, she’d left her body like an empty shell for several days, while she experienced life as a queen bee. Yet, when she’d broken into the Maturity Barn as a bee, she’d regained consciousness in her own body, inside the Barn. So there must be some way of reuniting what she could only call her bee self with her human self, of moving the human body through barriers only a bee could cross. For a short distance at least. Whether she could travel to the beehive instantly in bee form and reunite there with her human body was a different matter. She remembered how sick she’d felt in the Maturity Barn and doubted the wisdom of such an experiment. If she wanted to go to the Forest as Mielitta – and oh, how she longed to go there! – she must take the long route through the water gate.
The optimal, safe greylight made her long for shafts of sunlight and pools of shade. ‘There is more than this,’ she murmure
d, carrying more books to a shelf.
What if she talked to someone? Showed them the bee sigil and told them what it meant, what she could do? Declan. She had always talked to Declan, of her finding, her lessons and archery, her smith-work. She had even told him of her pain in being passed over, of losing her childhood friends year on year. But he had chosen Kermon, told her what girls could not do, told her to be a lady, to accept that she was an adult now. She could hardly tell him that her maturity had been fabricated.
How would Declan react to her tales of bee powers? He was a mage, accustomed to magecraft and its appearance in those chosen. But she had never been chosen, had been the dullest of children, had worked hard for every small achievement in her ordinary world. At best, he would think she was attention-seeking, telling stories that made her seem important.
If he thought she believed what she was saying, he would think her mentally impaired. What excuse had she made to Jannlou? An adverse effect from the Maturity Test. Jannlou had accepted that easily and so would Declan. He’d seek medication for her and wait for the madness to pass. In the Citadel all madness passed – or the mad person did. She shivered.
And if Declan believed her tale as fact? Then he would know how many crimes she had committed. Lying about the Maturity Ceremony was insignificant compared with stealing a mage password, breaking out of the Citadel to trespass in the Forest. All were crimes too terrible for her even to know the customary sentence. Nobody had ever been accused of so much treason. Not even Crimvert, and look what his fate had been.
And she had no words, not even book-words, to describe what she was doing with the bees. She knew it was beyond forgiveness. If, that is, it was real and not just a figment of her imagination.
She started work on the Psychology section, removing the section Women’s Mental Health problems and carefully putting Delusional and Hysterical Phases in Women next to Delusional Psychosis in One Hundred Patients. Surely, they had more in common than difference? She was the Assistant Librarian and she would make all such decisions. If she couldn’t shape the world, she could shape the library according to how the world should be.
