The Bees

by Laline Paull

“Instead of attending Devotion,” whispered Lady Primrose, “we maintain the Stories of Scent. Not nearly as pleasant, but just follow along and we shall soon be out. We only ever do the first two, so don’t worry.” The ladies formed a line and put Flora at the end. They walked in a circle around the chamber repeating the Our Mother, and then Lady Burnet stopped in front of a panel. “The first story is called The Honeyflow.” She smiled at Flora. “The lightest touch, then move back.” She dipped her antennae and touched the panel to demonstrate. Immediately, the scent of flowers rose up from it, developing and blending as each of the ladies took her turn. Flora marveled to recognize the ancient kin-scents: the Sage and the Teasel, the Rosebay, Willowherb, Clover, Violet, Celandine, Burnet, Thistle, Malus, Bindweed, and all of them. Of the floras, there was no reference. “Quickly, my dear.” Lady Burnet’s voice had the slightest tremor. “We must move along.” As Flora touched her antennae to the first panel, all the blossoms of spring burst into life and the air was filled with orchard sweetness and the scent of lush grass. But before she could fully enjoy it, a pressure wave went through the air in the chamber. She heard the harsh caw of birds and smelled the high sharp tang of a wasp. As she leaped back in shock all the ladies laughed nervously. “A common reaction,” said Lady Burnet, “but it is only a story, it cannot hurt you. Fresh as dew, yet made in the Time before Time. Is ...