Buzzford's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

The jar of black jelly sat on the table all night. In the morning Buzzford wrapped it in cloth and walked to the low cabin at the edge of the reed flats. Myrtle Bogwater kept bees no one else would touch, and she owed no loyalty to the woman who ran Buzzford out of the hollow. Buzzford knocked. Myrtle opened the door with a paring knife in one hand and a half-peeled turnip in the other. She looked at the wrapped jar, then at Buzzford's face, and stepped aside. Buzzford set the jar on her table and said what they wanted. A larva, three days old, from the rival hive across the boggy meadow. Myrtle laughed, short and dry. She said the rival kept two dogs and a boy who slept by the smokehouse. She said anyone caught at those frames would leave with a broken arm at best. Then she wiped her knife on her apron and told Buzzford to sit. She had a way in, she said, but it would cost the jar. Buzzford's stomach dropped. Without the jelly there was no queen. But without the larva the jelly was only tar. They agreed. Myrtle led them out at midday, when the rival worked her far frames. Nessa Mudwren came too, silent, one hand on her knife. They crossed the meadow low. At the edge of the rival's yard, Myrtle pointed to a tall grey bird standing in the shallows behind the hives. The slate heron. Myrtle had been feeding it minnows for a year. She clapped once, sharp. The heron burst up, wings wide, and dropped into the yard between the hives and the smokehouse. The dogs tore after it, barking. The boy ran after the dogs. Myrtle nodded. Buzzford went in low along the fence, lifted the lid off the third hive, and cut a wedge of comb with three pale larvae curled in the wax. They were back in the reeds before the heron lifted clear of the yard. At Myrtle's table Buzzford laid the wedge beside the jar. Myrtle picked the smallest larva out with a splinter and dropped it into the black jelly. It sank, then floated, small and white against the dark. Myrtle took the jar and set it on her own shelf. "Payment," she said. Buzzford opened their mouth and closed it. The larva was theirs, but the food that would raise it into a queen now sat behind Myrtle's door, and Myrtle had already turned back to her turnip. Nessa touched Buzzford's elbow. They walked out with the larva wrapped in wax cloth and nothing else.