Bee And Foxglove

Bee Goes On Tour

Two months later, Bee received a postcard.

On the one side was a woodcut image in three colours of ink, depicting a cliff by the sea with a seagull on it. It was quite pretty. Bee turned it over.

Saluton el Frankio! it read. As you can see, I've been brushing up my Mondolingvo. Here in Lordeux a lot of people speak it, because it's a port city.

I'm absolutely giddy as I write this. I don't know if you know this, but from Sal the channel between Kandra and Frankia is narrow enough you can see Frankia on a clear day? Anyhow, I kind of ended up here by accident.

How you ask? Well, not exactly by *accident*. I've just been practising with the glider in Sal for the last few weeks. I've got this amazing trainer who seems to know just how to help me, even if he's never had magic himself. Well, one day I flew out far enough that I was right in the middle of the channel. And I figured, what the hell? It's no further to go all the way to Frankia than to turn back.

Here, in order to fit into the last bit of space, Lisa's handwriting was getting very small. I guess my journey has unofficially begun. Thank you so much for your gift, Bee. Love, Lisa.

*

Bee and Vincent's shows were incredibly popular in Suringen that first year. There were people who spent days travelling to see the show from as far as Illumia, Jura, or Sal.

Bee was high on all the attention and acclaim for several months. By the end of the summer, though, the shows were getting less popular.

Winston, who had come to watch for the second time, picked up on Bee's slightly deflated state and offered some advice. "You've been doing amazing, Bee. But there's a reason play companies go on tour. People don't want to see the same show three times in a row, no matter how good it is."

*

The strawberry-apples ripened. Every morning, looking out the window, Bee was greeted by a vivacious display; the trees were bejewelled, red and seductive, simply popping with fruit.

The first few weeks would be a little easier, before the cinnamon-plums also ripened. Vincent and Francis came over. Everyone got to picking, but Vincent and Bee could together do the work of ten people with their magic – at least, they could do that for an hour or so each day, needing an extra hour's rest each day, so perhaps de facto it was only five times more effective.

Still, it was a wondrous thing to see apples flying through the air to land gently in the fruit crates, and Vincent loved doing it.

*

"At this rate, we might not need to hire extra hands," enthused Bee one afternoon, over a bowl of strawberry-apple pie.

"I'm pretty sure we'll need at least one extra helper," said Foxglove, in skeptical tones.

"Eh, let's see," said Bee. "Hey, Vincent, the pie's getting cold!" Bee called.

There was no reply.

"Vincent?" Bee called again, louder.

"Oh no," said Foxglove.

Francis got up without a word and ran to the guest room.

Bee and Foxglove followed him. There, Vincent was lying on the floor, eyes unseeing, breathing in that laboured, awful way.

*

Francis looked after Vincent for the next ten days. Bee and Foxglove sat by Vincent's bedside as often as they could, but it was getting very busy in the orchard. They did send off for extra hands, and even then, they couldn't spare more than half an hour here and there.