Bee And Foxglove

Bee Abuses Her Audience

"My dear gentlefolks," said Melis, standing on the stage in a snazzy tuxedo. "Now is the moment you've all been waiting for. The fantastical, the magical, the unbelievable – Bee Margaretsdaughter!"

Bee marched on stage, her movements kind of stiff from anxiety. "Uh... Thank you, Melis," she said. "And my assistant, Foxglove, Daughter of Sandra!"

Foxglove gave a bow as she joined Bee, smiling radiantly. The audience cheered.

Everyone loves you, Foxglove, Bee thought. How do you do that?

The audience chairs were quite full. Bee could see most of the pub regulars – Ol' Johnny and his crew, Peter... even Nettle had come; well, if he wanted to pay for the privilege of jeering at her, she'd accept that...

Strangely, there was a large, iridescent blue bird perched on the top of a chair. It was unperturbed by the humans around it, and was watching Bee with apparent focus.

Bee gaped at the bird for a second. Then she remembered herself, and made a sweeping gesture with her arm, letting off little firework effects in the air. There was a cheer. Bee grinned in elation.

Bee took off her top hat and threw it up into the air. It span and fell. Bee reached out to catch it — and missed. The hat fell to the ground.

Bee went pale. She reached down awkwardly and picked up the top hat.

The audience watched blankly.

Breathe. Focus. It's okay, thought Bee.

Bee tossed the hat one more time – this time using a little bit of magic to make sure it returned to her hand on the way down – and in one smooth movement, pulled a rabbit from it.

Bee shook the hat, and several strawberry-apples fell out. Then she reached inside and pulled out a bunch of flowers and tossed it into the audience. (As it was winter, they were paper flowers. But they happened to be rather nice ones).

The audience cheered.

Bee grinned in elation and nervousness. She bowed.

"My dear gentlefolks," said Bee. "A new Age of magic is upon us!"

There were more cheers.

Bee's natural instinct for the theatrical was taking over. "The day the meteor struck in the Red Forest, I was gifted with incredible abilities! Soon after, I knew that I must use them for the benefit of humankind.

"Observe this table. I have two cups, and two balls. Oh wait – just one ball? Where did that one go? No balls?" Bee's voice was muffled by the two balls in her mouth. The audience laughed.

"And we move the cup like this, like this, like this... Oh! Where did all those balls come from?"

Bee grinned. Nettle's look of obvious disgust was like sweet nectar to her.

"Now, some would say that it doesn't take a meteorchild to pull a rabbit from a hat. Some have gone so far as to question my reputation! I have gathered you here today to set the record straight. After all, if I were not a meteorchild, would I be able to do this?" Bee pulled a colourful chain of handkerchiefs out of her ear, gesticulating and tugging as if this was an uncomfortable and difficult process. There was some laughter and clapping from the audience.

Bee tossed the chain towards the audience. Suddenly, it was dozens of handkerchiefs flying in all directions, as if the knots had magically come undone.

"My dear Foxglove," said Bee, "please bring out... the basket."

"Of course, Bee," said Foxglove, smiling sweetly.

Foxglove rolled a wheeled table with a large, coffin-like basket on it onto the stage.

"Observe. This is a regular large wicker basket. It was used for storing bedsheets in a convent. Nothing special about it! I will turn it this way and that, and you can observe from all angles.

"Foxglove, are you ready?"

"I am, Bee!" said Foxglove.

"After you, my lady – and let it be known that no harm shall come to you, on my honour as a meteorchild!"

Foxglove used a little stepladder and climbed into the coffin. Bee gingerly closed the lid, blowing Foxglove a kiss as she did so. Foxglove silently laughed and rolled her eyes at Bee.

"Observe... this sword."

A few members of the audience gasped.

"Do not be afraid! No harm shall come to her!" cried Bee. With a sweeping gesture, she plunged the sword into the basket.

"Everything all right in there, Foxglove?" asked Bee.

"Yes!" came Bee's voice.

Bee took another sword from a chest (or rather, reached down into the empty chest and came back holding the magical illusion of a sword). "How about... now?" asked Bee, stabbing the basket and leaving the sword inside.

"Still fine!" called Foxglove.

"Good!"

Then Bee stabbed her with another sword. And another. Then a spear. And a trident. She shot a few arrows into the basket.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm great!" cried Foxglove.

"She's a sucker for punishment," said Bee, before jabbing in five more swords, one by one. The basket was beginning to look like a pincushion.

In the audience, Ol' Johnny and Wild Eye Tom were gaping. Nettle looked flabbergasted. Bee grinned. She was stretching credulity...

Bee took up her bow again (or rather, made an illusion of a bow again) and a quiver of twenty arrows. She shot the basket, again and again, until her quiver was empty.

"How are you doing, Foxglove?" asked Bee lovingly.

"A bit itchy!" said Foxglove, off the cuff. Bee laughed.

Bee looked at the audience.

The audience gazed back, transfixed.

Bee grinned.

And snapped her fingers.

The basket lit on fire.

There was a horrified gasp from the audience. There was a horrified silence. There was the crackle of fire. Then a couple of men stumbled to their feet and made for the stage, apparently to try and save Foxglove.

Bee snapped her fingers again.

A blizzard blew down from the ceiling. The fire winked out.

"Foxglove?" Bee asked, not taking her eyes off her flabbergasted audience.

"I'm fine!"

"Of course you are," said Bee. She snapped her fingers again. The illusory weapons and arrows vanished. The blizzard intensified, sprinkling snowflakes all over the audience.

"I'm actually a meteorchild," said Bee. She bent over laughing. "The looks on your faces!"

Foxglove got out of the basket and clambered down. "Be nice to your poor audience, Bee!" she laughed, a little embarrassed.