The Donkey and the Minotaur
Jitters the donkey pulled back the cottage door and tried not to worry about the squeaking hinge as he stepped over the threshold. His wife followed him to the welcome mat while the two foals gambolled alongside her, shouting over each other.
The small street lamp stared dully at their little corner of the world, and around them the village was dying for the night. They were clustered within the safety of a herd of cottages, all stuck squarely together like cattle, while around them the wall of woodland boxed them into the clearing and overlooked their neighbouring fields. Jitters looked up at them and shuddered.
“Dad, you can’t go out yet,” said the eldest foal nervously. “It’s bedtime!”
Jitters turned around, his joints creaking as he did so, and met his wife’s gaze. They gave the barest hint of a wink to each other before he dutifully bowed his head low to his foals, and tried his best to smile. “Well, if you want Daddy to make it back safely, you know what to do, right?”
“Uh huh,” said the youngest. He held up a small brass horseshoe. “My lucky charm’s ready!”
“And you must sleep with it under your pillow,” said Jitters in the manner of a king addressing his subjects. “And just before the sandmare comes, you…”
“Make a wish!” said the eldest. The youngest glared at him.
“That?”
“Jason, let Marcus answer,” said his wife. Jason frowned at her but stepped back, and Marcus beamed with importance.
“And we wish that Daddy makes it back safely,” he said.
“Good kid. Now, you will both do that for me, right?” Jitters put a hoof on each tiny shoulder. To a chorus of spirited affirmation, he gave what he hoped was an indulgent chuckle and squeezed them tight.
Do I really have to lie to them? he thought. It took a while before he let them go.
“Now upstairs with you, you young rascals.” His wife waved off the foals, who hurried out of the hall with a thundering of hooves. To Jitters, she nodded.
Jitters began dancing on the tips of his hooves. “You sure you’re going to be all right, Serene?”
“Jitters, I’ll be fine!” She gave a hearty laugh at his words. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Mavis and the others are coming round for bridge night, and I’m feeling darn lucky I’ll get a good hoof or two before you get back.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Jitters checked his mind for good responses, and took a while to produce something.
“They organized it at our place? But I thought it wasn’t until next week.”
“Not when I had something to say about it. After you got the commission, well, I’ll be darned if I sit at home twiddling my hooves all night. The girls at the tea club were fine with it when I made the change.”
Serene Tenterhooves leaned forwards and whispered, “You did the right thing.”
Jitters’ long ears rose upright. “I never said a word.”
“I saw the look on your face when you saw the kids off. We have been married for twenty five years, Jits. It’s better this way.”
A silence began to creep in. Jitters stood at the threshold, glancing around nervously at the shadows creeping in. Briefly, he touched the ring on his upper foreleg.
“Well, this is the closest I’ll get to a good luck charm, I reckon,” he said seriously. Serene blushed but covered it with another hearty chuckle.
“Here’s a proper good luck charm,” she whispered, “just in case.”
They briefly nuzzled. Her snout pressed into his, not to crush the skin between it and his skull, but almost to push her affections through it in a single touch. He felt her jaw shudder, but knew she’d rather bury her face than let him see her cry. They broke off as though a thin thread was still between their eyes.
“Well, then,” he said, and hated himself for how false he sounded.
Jitters noticed he was trembling at the knees, and he stiffened them to hide it. Serene looked up at him with an eyebrow raised.
“I have to admit, I’ve never met a minotaur before,” he said suddenly. “And I’ve never done the job with company before. I’m not sure if accepting this was such a good idea.”
“Jitters, for shame! You don’t go around judging people before you know them, especially not one of your new neighbours.”
“You met him already?”
“At the tavern. Salty the drunk had too much salt to drown in, and I was this close to giving him a hoof-full. Then the minotaur stepped into the tavern – poor thing looked a little lost – and of course, this fool turned around and said things my pretty little ears shouldn’t hear.”
Jitters stifled a chuckle; Serene probably used the words more than once each day, and with great gusto.
“And this minotaur barely blinked at him,” she continued. “It was like insulting a rock. Then, as calm as you like, he puffed out his chest, gestured to the door, and told the drunk to step outside. Ooh, did that foal half bolt when he saw that! Must have thought a mountain was standing right in front of him.”
“You speak to him, then?”
“Oh, yes. I got to chatting to him after everyone had settled down, and I can tell you, they must have done a good job of him in the city. He’s a star, Jitters. A true gentlecolt. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“OK, then.” Despite his words, Jitters hung about the door.
“Now get on with ya!” Serene gave his rump a playful smack. His ears rose upright on his head, and she chortled at his sheepish shuffling. Every few steps, he turned to wave at her, and she didn’t go in until he’d turned the corner and was out of sight.
Jitters paused and walked backwards until he could see his cottage again. He never knew why he did this, and half-wondered if he was afraid the house would disappear if he left it.
It’s not like you know your own mind, anyway, he thought gloomily. You shouldn’t even be in the monster-catching business, and yet here you are. Why? I haven’t the foggiest.
Moist soil oozed under his hooves and tanned them a deep brown, but the night air was dry and scratched along his throat like sandpaper. Through the fog-like darkness, he could make out faces peering through portholes of light, and returned a few waves before the smiling villagers drew their curtains. He wondered what they were thinking after seeing him, a decrepit old hack out on a night like this. “Who were you waving to, dear?” someone would ask them, and they’d reply, as sunny as anything, “Oh, jus’ old Jitters Tenterhooves out on one of his jobs.”
Once or twice, he stopped to check his saddlebags, and each time he found, to his consternation, that he had not forgotten anything. Being in the business long enough to get promoted also meant being in it long enough to lose memories or to make mistakes, but he simply didn't know when the day was coming. He knew Old Frank wouldn’t mind – Frank had astonishing faith in Jitters' professional standards – but he always feared that one day, he’d forget to check the saddlebags at all.
Frank – who was the only agent in the village, having been a city boy himself several years before – had come to his house earlier that evening. That was one of the downsides of the business; hours had to be flexible, or at least they writhed into view at odd moments and wouldn’t submit to obedience training. After fending off Serene’s tea and biscuits until eventually he gave up to them, Frank had told him about the commission.
“Lord Client was very clear on this point,” he’d said. “Two of the best in the village, and one of them’s you without question.”
“Well, who’s the other one?” Jitters had asked, trying his utmost not to blush or smile or indicate he had heard any compliment at all, in case it went to his head and turned him. “I thought I was the only one in town, right?”
“Somepony from foreign parts. Name of Steel Nerves. Apparently, he comes from the Big Applesauce.”
Jitters stopped inspecting his biscuit. “Manehattan? They have monsters in a city?”
“Are you kiddin'? They’re famous for the darn things.” Frank shrugged, and was about to pick up and pour the kettle when Serene stepped in and delightedly did it for him. “Big Hill Bunsen told me about him, what with him knowing some city folk an’ all. He’s a risin' star in the monster-catchin' world. You’d better watch your back, old timer, or he’ll be after your job.”
At the time, it had been a joke. The correct response was an equally jocular “He’s welcome to it,” but Jitters had only thought of this response long afterwards. Now, trudging through the puddles and the churned grass and mud, he was finding it too easy to wonder why a city boy was plying his trade in another’s patch.
“How good is he, then?” he’d asked.
Jitters cringed just remembering the answer. A lot of numbers had been involved, and maths was simply not something he wanted to discuss over herbal tea.
I hate him already.
Give him a chance, Jitters, he thought angrily. City types don’t know the difference between windbreaks and breaking wind. And you’re the one asking him to meet you at the square, so you're the one who's got to show him how to get around.
That's about all I can teach the guy, the way Frank was going on about him...
His stomach pressed tightly against itself as though trying to hide its face. Jitters! Don’t prejudge people, remember? He’s from the sophisticated city. You don’t even know what the poor gentlecolt looks like yet.
Still, it would be nice to have that many monsters under my belt. I haven’t seen numbers that big since Salty discovered the joys of a bar tab.
Jitters sighed. Those numbers indeed…
The village green silently collapsed with damp, and the fountain was surrounded by a ring of water that had overflowed its rim. Even now, the water within the marble basin would rush over the side if a hoof was dipped in it. Jitters stood alongside the tiny moat and settled into a routine of rubbing his legs while he waited.
Where there should have been a reflection of the half moon in the water, there was only the darkness of midnight cloud. Even the taverns were closing by now, and Jitters could see a couple of stalls left unattended near the town hall. Monsters rarely came out of the forest these days, but villagers still hurried indoors and followed the ancient curfew, and Jitters wished they didn’t. It’s like they’re expecting the “good” old days to come back.
He glanced up and down the street, and almost jumped at the squelching of hoofsteps behind him, and someone grunted. He stumbled over his own hooves as he spun around to face it.
A towering shadow with devilish horns swelled into view. Its torn hood whipped around a bovine muzzle that heaved around the words as it spoke.
“Excuse me,” it rumbled, “but I’m expecting a friend?”
Jitters splashed over the puddles, and brayed when his rump hit the fountain’s side. He nearly lost his eyes with staring.
Swollen arms reached from under a rippling cloak and ripped back the hood. Two glowing eyes peered down at him like two campfires on a mountain peak.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” it said. “I’m new in town.”
The minotaur leaned forward, and his fur glowed warmly under the nearby street lamp. Jitters ignored his own settling heartbeat.
“P-Pleased to meet you,” he said with manic cheeriness, and he thrust a hoof up. “Name’s Jitters Tenterhooves. I’m the ‘friend’ you’ve been waiting for.”
He felt that the minotaur stared a little too long at him, but both hands gripped his hoof and nearly shook his foreleg off. Good Lord, he is a big one, isn’t he? thought Jitters.
“Welcome to our little village, Mister Nerves,” he said, “and I hope you enjoyed your visit at the tavern?”
“The cider nearly took my mouth off, but heck yes! I’d like to go back there with you sometime, once we’ve done the job.” Steel Nerves dropped his friend’s hoof and put a hand on the donkey’s withers. “Always a pleasure to meet a fellow catcher of the cause. Call me Steel.”
Jitters backed away from the hand, but tried to smile. He’s just being polite, he thought. Maybe they do things differently in the big city.
“The pleasure’s all mine, Mister N... I mean, Mister Steel,” he said, and feeling it might be good form, he bowed tersely at the knees. “I regret to say we don’t receive many folk from the city.”
Shouldn’t I follow that up with something? he thought frantically. Jitters peeped at either end of the street for the waiting taxi, and restrained a groan. Had he come too early again?
Steel peered down at him with eyebrows raised high, and coughed so that several thick puffs of cold air were sprayed over his fist. There was something about those glowing eyes that made Jitters’ spine chill from the back of the neck to his frozen rump, and he tried to keep his tail from twitching.
Was he being sized up for something? Maybe back in the city, they didn’t employ old fogies or runty-looking creatures like him. Even the village, safe behind 'fence posts' the size of redwoods, seemed to be hiding from a bigger world these days.
“The city doesn’t receive a lot of folk from the country,” said Steel. “I guess it more or less evens out.”
Jitters gave a quick chuckle, and made a mental note not to bow again.
“So, Mister…?” said Steel, screwing up his face as though not knowing someone’s name was a form of constipation.
“Folks call me Jitters.”
“Jitters.” Steel nodded, slicing the air with his horns as he did so. All his neck muscles slid over each other like criss-crossing avalanches as he leaned closer. “I’m not sure how we’re going to get to the Manor from here?”
“I hired a taxi for us.” Jitters glanced over at the sound of rumbling axles, and dimly made out a box on wheels approaching from the west side. “The driver’s a friend I know. He did odd jobs for a coach service over in Dodge Junction a few years back.”
Under the pools of light, the cab flared bright yellow, and the hoary stallion trudged just ahead of it. Steel seemed to sway a little at the sight, and Jitters felt his stomach sink and weigh his belly down.
“It looks like he’s stopping on the other side of the square,” said the minotaur as though they were both watching an interesting species of sparrow.
“He’s better than he looks,” Jitters said, and immediately wished he hadn’t.
“I don’t mind a short walk.”
They squelched around the village green, a greying mass of mulch surrounded by a ring of dull paving slabs. Limp horsetails splayed from cracks in the stone. Jitters found himself stopping to touch his ring, and then cantered quickly after Steel, who only noticed as he was halfway to reaching the cab’s side.
“Job called for two guys to deal with a revenant at Client Manor.” Steel did not break his stride as he spoke, nor did he look down. “You know much about Client Manor?”
“Lord Client built the place a few centuries back,” said Jitters, who also kept his gaze straight ahead. “They’re not what you’d call the mingling type of pony. I’ve only been there twice, and both times for a job. They live a way into the forest, so they know enough to put up a perimeter fence and a few protection spells.”
“Unicorns, huh?”
“Earth ponies. They hire unicorn servants to put up a second kind of fence, so to speak. And I’m talking Canterlot-level security here.”
“So I guess whatever we find in the Manor will be a bit of a tricky customer, vis-à-vis this revenant.”
You don’t know the half of it, sir. Jitters, who knew both halves of it and did his best to pretend he wholly didn’t, merely nodded, pouting his lips as though this sort of thing was fair game for him.
The driver had unharnessed himself, and shuffled over to hold open the cab’s door. Steel was about to haul his bulk through the narrow space, but patted his flank and cloak when one hoof was already in.
“Ah,” he said, and coughed nervously. “Darn. I must have left my wallet behind.”
Jitters tutted and waved a hoof at him. “Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m covering the fare.”
“You sure? I couldn’t ask you to –”
“No, really; it’s only fair, since you’re new and all. It was my idea to hire him. I’ll pay the full amount.”
Steel straightened his cloak like a devoted captain unfurling a snagged sail. “Well, if you insist. Can’t argue with a freebie.”
He clambered inside, and tried to squash himself into a corner of the seat for Jitters to spread out over the rest. Neither of them spoke as the door slammed. The driver, after much coughing and wheezing, fumbled with the harness’ ropes until they tied themselves together out of pity.
Everything shuddered, and the cab’s wheels grumbled and creaked with every turn. Jitters felt his dinner briefly surge up his gullet and burn his insides. At least he goes nice and slow, he thought.
They trundled on, gazing at each cottage as it passed. Jitters shuffled his hooves and tried to shift his legs over each other. No matter how much he twisted his spine, though, he could never settle on a position for more than a minute, and soon he had bumped Steel with elbows, scalp, and hooves. Sweat made his fur slide over itself, and he kept glancing up at his partner, wondering if the minotaur had noticed and wishing he could apologize for his own behaviour without actually drawing attention to it.
Soon, the gentle rocking of the cab began to throw them out of their seats, and the cottages were giving way to a panorama of bark. Trunks passed like black icebergs and wooden skyscrapers. Eventually the gouged earth left the cab alone, and harder gravel roads crunched underneath the spoked millstones that were the cab’s wheels.
Jitters wanted to say something over the mass of muscle sitting next to him, and talk over that to the head, but the minotaur was staring at nothing in particular, and a blossoming of the lips at the end of his muzzle suggested he was letting the world wash clean over him. His eyelids were lowered and promised good dreams.
How can he look like that? So calm and collected about all this? Jitters tried to keep his own body stiff, and the staring would have left him frothing at the mouth if he could have frothed at all. Questions, shouts, and orders clamoured in his mind like furies, but he set his jaw and tried to think of a better company of words to share.
A wolf’s howl swooped through the window and haunted the cab. Jitters tried to prise his own larynx open, and fought for control over his long ears as a rush of blood packed into his cheeks, seeking escape.
Steel began staring out the window, and chuckled as though at some private joke. “All we need now is the sign pointing to Granny’s cottage.”
Jitters let out the breath, which promptly slipped past his teeth and up to the ceiling. He gave a mild laugh; his lungs wouldn’t be up for anything vigorous. Look what you’re doing to him! He’ll be unscrewing his horns and snoring into his pecs before we get there! Give him some decent company, for crying out loud.
“So, you came from Manehattan, didn’t you?”
Steel’s eyebrows jumped up, and he shifted his bulk forwards. Parts of the chair twanged and sprung back into shape behind him. “Yep. And we really do raise a big apple up there every new year, but only because we never found the orange.”
“How… was life… back in… the big… city?” Jitters managed over a spluttering chortle. I gotta remember that one! he thought, and then hated himself for thinking it.
Steel shifted in his seat, and produced a newspaper from underneath him. A puzzled look was all it got before he dumped it on the seat next to him and crushed it between his buttock and the side of the cab.
He sat and thought for a while, and for a moment, Jitters wondered if he’d overstepped some hidden boundary.
“It weren’t bad,” Steel said in a rumbling voice. “Found a good career, made some money; the usual stuff. I only moved out because I wanted a nice thatched cottage in the countryside. Like the ones you see on postcards. You know, somewhere quiet and away from the hustle and bustle? Somewhere to raise the kids?”
Jitters’ mind was still roaming some way closer to the Manor, but at this he shook himself down. “You’re married?”
“Nope. Haven’t found the perfect one for me yet, but I’m still looking.” He turned on the seat, and the wooden bench almost glowed with friction as he did so. “Didn’t find anyone in the city, though I went to nearly every bar and shindig looking for them. There’s just not many minotaurs in this country.”
He said this as though it were simply an interesting statistic, and seemed to break off to dwell on whatever grand concepts could be inferred from it. Another silence followed, which Steel punctuated with a heave of his shoulders and chest as though at some private joke that had poked him in the ribs.
Well, he seems to be taking me into his confidence, thought Jitters. At least that’s a good start.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said politely.
Steel gave him the briefest turn of the head to show he had heard, and craned his horned head forwards to look through the window. Something oblong dangled from a chain around his neck, nearly making Jitters start.
“That’s a nice… amulet.”
“Huh?” Steel looked down at his chest, and chuckled. “No, this is my 'pocket' codex. Look, I’ll show you.” He held the oblong thing – a cylinder – in one hand and unscrewed the end. A roll of papyrus slid out into the minotaur’s waiting palm.
“Oh, I see,” said Jitters, eyeing the thing suspiciously. What’s a codek supposed to be?
“Everyone in the Order has one of these. It lists the instructions we live by as part of the Testimony of Auroch.”
What? Monster-catchers have an Order in the city? “Forgive me for asking, but most of my dealings with the unions are done through Frank. Who exactly is Auroch?”
“The founder of our religion. This codex is a copy of the scripture he wrote after he wandered the Labyrinth for a hundred days.” Steel slid the papyrus back into the tube. He pursed his lips and his brow wrinkled. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘union’. The Order’s more what you’d call an amalgamation.”
Jitters began to wish he hadn’t spoken, but nodded as calmly as he could. At least he took my gaff OK… unless he’s just pretending. But how did he know? What if I’m showing it on my face?
“Do you still keep it up?”
Steel gave him a sideways look, and then sighed. “Yep. I make a point to go on the Pilgrimage to the Labyrinth every year, but it’s just not the same since I left my old country. It’s strictly a minotaur thing.”
The cab rocked suddenly. Jitters fell onto the floor, and hurried over to the door.
“What was that? Did something hit us?” If anyone could shout and do it quietly at the same time, Jitters had just accomplished it. He was still glancing with a rapid eye from tree to tree, and both eyes were fighting to penetrate the darkness further away.
“Just a pothole," said the driver. "The road needs filling in.”
Jitters fell back into his seat, and stretched a hoof out in front of him. It wouldn’t stop twitching no matter how much he concentrated on it.
“Hoo hoo!” Steel slapped his thigh. “And there I was, getting myself revved up for a tussle!”
“Is that also a minotaur thing?” Jitters bit his lips as soon as he’d said it. Don’t be so darn rude, Jitters!
“Oh, I didn’t mean that no one but a minotaur could join,” said Steel hastily. “They’re very open these days. But there’s a part of the ceremony in the Labyrinth where the codex is read in its original Bovine, and no one else can do it.”
So he’s great at languages now. Jitters wanted to wring his hooves, but he’d already tried to sit on them for shaking. Gosh darn it, he really will be after my job!
To his shock, a blast of lowing and roaring rattled the hinges and joints of the cab. Jitters brayed up to the ceiling and crashed into the floor with a spasm before he realized, while getting up, that Steel had closed his eyes and was narrowing his lips for another bellow.
“Not so loud, if you don’t mind, sir!” he said quickly, but the big throat was already quaking with the noise and only afterwards did Steel help him up onto his seat.
Rather unfeelingly, given the circumstances, Steel rocked on his haunches and burst and boomed with laughter.
“I’m sorry,” he spluttered over his church bellow lungs. “I’m sorry… I just wanted to give you a bit of Bovine.” He patted Jitters on the shoulder, leaving a bruise by accident. “Just showing why it’s a bit hard to do if you’re not a minotaur.”
Jitters sniffed, but he couldn’t smell a thing over his own sweat. The saddlebags chafed around his ribs, and he rubbed them rigorously against his squirming torso to scratch them off. “Very… funny,” he said, trying to smile. At the very least, he bared his large, horsey teeth.
Steel’s eyebrow tried to look over this smile, but he himself rubbed the bruise gingerly. “I didn’t mean to make you jump, friend. You OK?”
Cut him some slack, Jitters. He probably isn't used to such company. “Meaning no disrespect,” he said, bowing his head. “I think I’d have gotten the point well enough if you’d explained it in Equestrian.”
“No, really.” Steel reached under his cloak and rummaged for something. His face was screwed up with concern. “I only wanted to give you a demonstration. My mother always said I should give warning before I do things like that. Keep forgetting. Here.” He produced what looked like a gangrenous lily flower and rubbed it into the bruise.
Jitters kept still, though his instincts were telling him to recoil from the ugly plant. To his surprise, his shoulder glowed with warmth where it touched. He felt oddly blank.
“It’s OK. It’s got balm seed oil in it.” Steel crunched the petals in one hand and shoved the lot back into the folds of his cloak. “You should heal up in no time.”
There was a distant shriek in the forest. Jitters checked his shoulder, but the green ooze was already shrinking into nothing, and his shoulder was as hoary and bruise-free as usual.
“Where d’you get that?” he asked.
“Bought it at the apothecary when I came into town.” Steel crossed his legs and folded his arms behind his head. The elbow of one arm nearly knocked Jitters' cranium.
I don’t have anything like that in my kit. Why did I not know about this flower? Goodness knows I’ve been to the apothecary enough times.
“I shouldn’t really talk so much about me,” said Steel uneasily. He shifted several hundred pounds of muzzle to look down at his companion. “How about you?”
“Oh, I’m… nothing special,” said Jitters, smiling warmly. “I got a wife and two kids back home.”
“Uh huh. Two kids, you say?”
“Yeah. Both colts. Jason's the eldest. He wants to leave home for the city life one day.”
Uncomfortable silence rushed to fill in the gap they left. Steel reached down and pulled out the newspaper from his side.
“Lots of folk want to move to the city,” he said. “Mostly for the jobs and the money. I read that in Arcadia magazine.”
“Oh, you have a subscription?” Hang on! Why are we changing the subject? What did I say?
Steel grunted, but by now he seemed too tired to talk, and his bulk sagged into his chair. He opened his mouth, closed it, twiddled his thumbs, and then gave a low sigh that merely made the next silence stretch out longer. A flutter of wings overhead was followed by the squeaking of bats.
Whatever he’d done, Jitters wished he knew what it had been. Had he overstepped the boundary, gotten chummy, told too much personal info? He rubbed his sides against the saddlebags again, even though it felt like he was scraping off his own flesh each time he did so. The Manor was probably not far now.
Poor Steel, he thought sadly. You only know the countryside through a magazine. You don’t really know what you’re getting into here. You think it’s some kind of dream. I’d probably feel sorry for you…
I should feel sorry for you. But I don’t. Why don’t I? Why should I? This job is more or less yours, not mine.
A rush of burning, screaming anger scorched his veins. He hoped Steel would falter at the Manor, or would simply have second thoughts – anything, so long as this was still Jitters' job – but a horror leaped from his heart and cut off the thought swiftly.
That road was one Jitters vowed never to walk.
Don’t you ever think that thought again, Jitters, he said to himself.
Something inside him shuffled its hooves, but he could sense it watching him, waiting until he wasn’t paying it any attention. He had to keep an eye on it at all times.
A shuffle of papers briefly disturbed the pond of his mind. Steel had unfurled the newspaper and was reading it with a blank expression. Jitters turned his head around, and realized that he himself had been staring out the window for quite some time.
They carried on in awkward silence.
Eventually, the driver said, "We're here. Client Manor, dead ahead."
