Dreams Recalled

III. Let the wheel be opened

Harmony 2000

“Should I take the scarlet? Ah, no! The maroon here, it’s more subtle…then again…”

Rarity had been trotting about Carousel Boutique for the past two hours, her meticulous inventory drifting at her tail, held aloft by magic. She was packing. The perfumes, the outfits—dresses long and short, hats and scarves, shoes for walking and shoes for dancing and shoes for both—and of course all of her tools and materials, the luxurious rolls of silk and velveteen and fur, the sewing machine, the tightly wound thread, the buttons and the zippers. As always, Rarity was determined to be over-prepared.

These preparations extended to her social life. Not only had Rarity mentally sketched out her dubious path to a Canterlot wedding with Fancy, but she had also decided that she was going to have serious words with Twilight regarding her behavior. This idea had occurred to her at Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack and Rainbow Dash seemed so very unhappy about their friend’s distant behavior, and Rarity couldn’t bear to stand idle. Applejack’s intolerably rustic ways might have aggravated her on occasion, but Rarity hated to see her so down in the dumps. She was a kind and reliable friend, and it was disgraceful for her to be so neglected by Twilight. Now Rarity too held Twilight’s secrets, and that certainly wouldn’t do. Whether the blame lay at the hooves of Twilight or Celestia, all of this nonsense had to be sorted out, and Rarity would be the one to do it.

Sweetie Belle was watching with interest from the coffee table in the living room as Rarity flitted this way and that, talking to herself. She knew better than to disturb her sister when she was this busy, and besides, she had nothing to complain about. Rarity had told her that she was going to stay with Apple Bloom for a full two weeks since her parents were still away on business in Whinnyapolis. Naturally, Sweetie was excited—she could already imagine the new adventures Apple Bloom would be cooking up for them. Apple Bloom had a mind for making adventures.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Sweetie?”

Sweetie abruptly realized that Rarity had trotted over to the table and started speaking to her. She smiled at Rarity vaguely, in hopes that it was an adequate response.

“Oh, Sweetie, didn’t you hear what I said?” asked Rarity irritably. “I’m quite busy, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Sorry, I just zoned out. What is it?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard me talking about how Twilight has been awfully strange since she got her wings, yes?”

“Yes, she hasn’t spent as much time with you or any of her other friends.” Sweetie had endured plenty of fretting from her sister over the potentially disastrous social ramifications of Twilight’s behavior. Whatever that meant. Still, she knew why Rarity was upset, one way or another.

“I thought that this little business trip would be an excellent opportunity for me to arrange a little heart-to-heart with Twilight. You know how awfully worried all of us have been about her and it simply cannot go on. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Sweetie Belle allowed herself a sardonic smile. Rarity didn’t really want her opinion; she just wanted her to tell her what a great idea it was and that it definitely would do the trick. She was more than happy to do that.

“I do! I’ve seen how much Twilight’s been making you sad and it’s not right.”

Rarity beamed. “It isn’t, is it? And you know, when I saw Applejack and Rainbow Dash today, they were so worried about Twilight that she was all that they wanted to know about when I said she was coming with me.”

Something occurred to Sweetie in that moment and she asked, “Hey, I just remembered that you said you didn’t have any new designs a couple of weeks ago. What are you promoting?”

“Oh, there’s been a change of plan,” Rarity said quickly. “There are some very important ponies in Canterlot who might be willing to invest in Carousel Boutique and so I’m going to have to work extra-hard for them.”

“All right.” Sweetie hopped off the couch and trotted over to nuzzle her sister. “I’ll miss you. I hope you don’t have such a good time in Canterlot that you forget all about me.”

“Oh, Sweetie!” Rarity rested her head on Sweetie’s mane protectively. “Of course not! How ever could you say such a thing?”

“Hah! I’m just teasing!” Sweetie snickered. “I hope it’s great for you.”

The sisters embraced for a few moments, but then Rarity remembered that she still hadn’t packed any books just in case she had any spare time to read, and so she cantered off to the adjoining room with a hasty apology. Sweetie rolled her eyes and helped herself to a lemon candy from the bowl on the table.

“Now, I hear that Manehattan Love Story gets excellent reviews—then again, a book of travel essays might be more appropriate, and it is by Spellbound…”

*****

Spike ran a claw over the checklist one last time. Clothes, books, parchment, pens, a few bottles of herbal ointment from the apothecary (just in case)—all was accounted for. He closed the clasps on Twilight’s bag. The tough canvas was lavender, like her coat.

“We’re all packed for tomorrow, Twilight.” Spike took a seat in the middle of the library.

“Great. Thanks.” Twilight glanced up from her book to acknowledge her assistant.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well. Now I’m going out to the Everfree Forest to challenge a Timberwolf to a wrestling match.”

“Take a coat and scarf. It’s cold,” said Twilight. Spike chucked and stretched out on his little stool. After his encounter with Rarity, he was quite content.

A sharp knock at the door displaced Twilight’s focus. Sighing, she got up from the rug. Her bruises were none too happy about this sudden movement, and she gasped. Spike looked up in concern.

“Don’t worry,” said Twilight before he could comment. She moved to open the door, dragging her hooves slightly.

“Twilight!” There stood Rainbow Dash. She wore a pensive expression. “Just checking in to make sure you’re okay. You look better.”

“I am,” said Twilight. “Rarity caught me on my way home and insisted that I stop and take a break to catch my breath.”

“Oh.” Dash nodded and looked away. “I actually saw Rarity this morning at Applejack’s. She said—you were going away for a while.”

“Yes, we’re going to Canterlot,” said Twilight. “Rarity needs to go for business reasons. I’m just there to—”

“I know that’s not why you’re going.”

Twilight started to speak, and then she closed her mouth. What could she say?

Dash continued. “I don’t know what Celestia’s been filling your head with since you got your wings, but just because I don’t read books or use magic doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were.” Twilight stared down at her hooves. “I guess I should have anticipated this. I’m sorry, but I’m just not authorized to speak to you about it. I’m a princess now. I have higher responsibilities.”

“And Rarity? What’s she got to do with it?”

“Nothing. I swear, I’m telling you the truth. She got Spike to confess the paltry amount of information that he knows and then she insisted on coming with me. She loves Canterlot; you know that. I think she just wants to see Fancy Pants.”

Dash only nodded again and stood slightly bowed and weak of posture, gazing at the stone porch of the library. There was snow still there, flattened and browned by Twilight’s hoofprints.

“Look, I have to work tomorrow at noon,” said Dash at length, “so I can’t see you to say goodbye. I have to say it now, okay?”

“Okay.” Twilight wished she could say more but duty stayed her tongue. She made to embrace her friend, but Dash didn’t reciprocate, so she pursed her lips and retreated slightly into the library. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. We can get straight back into flying lessons.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’ll be fun,” said Dash. “Bye, Twilight.”

“Bye.” Twilight waved. Her gaze shifted in jerks and stops between the ground and Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow Dash acknowledged her with a tilt of the head, and then she turned and walked away. She centred herself on the square in front of the library and wearily flapped her wings in preparation for departure. The featureless clouds still lined the sky above, muting the warm colours of evening. Rainbow wondered what the ponies at HQ were doing. The clouds just kept coming and she couldn’t manage them. Winter wrap-up was still a ways off, but she hoped there’d be a change soon, or the task of clearing it up would be exceptionally hard. Come to think of it, she had probably dawdled too long outside. Tonight was the new moon and it would be very dark.

“Wait! Rainbow Dash!” The voice was Twilight’s. “I have something for you!”

Rainbow Dash dropped back onto the grass and faced Twilight, who was approaching her at a brisk canter, a book drifting above her head. What now?

“I got in contact with A.K—uh, Daring Do,” said Twilight stiffly, “and I convinced her to let me have an advance copy of Daring Do and the Sceptre of the Silver King, as a present for you. I was going to give it to you tomorrow, but if I won’t see you…”

Rainbow Dash snatched the book out the air excitedly. “This isn’t coming out until next month! Wow, thanks!”

Twilight’s expression relaxed into a small smile. “I’d be the first to admit I’m not the most socially gifted pony in Equestria, but I know it’s been tough for you guys since I got my wings. I don’t want to leave on bad terms. What I mean is—I’m sorry. I know it’s just a book, but I’m no good at saying these things with words sometimes.”

“Hah! I have the same problem!” Rainbow Dash flipped through the book excitedly as she spoke. “Sometimes I don’t think enough before I say something and it comes out wrong.”

“Well, I think my problem is the opposite.” Twilight shifted her hooves in the snow inelegantly.

Dash chuckled. “It’s okay. I accept your apology. I just hope that whatever you’re doing is worth it.”

Twilight nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

Dash stood still for a moment, and then she leaned in to give Twilight the hug that she’d wanted before. The sudden warmth of her neck against Dash’s face made her shiver.

“Goodbye,” Twilight replied. “Enjoy your book.”

“Yeah,” said Rainbow, “I’ll miss you, Twilight. Just so long as you don’t tell our friends that I’ve gone sappy or anything. ”

Twilight released her and they parted on their truce. Dash thrust upwards off the ground once again, bracing herself against the numbing cruelty of the winter winds, climbing up and up and up, as fast as she could bear, up until she reached her destination—that sweet spot where the sun still peaked shyly over the horizon, its light pooling on the clouds.

Down below, Twilight plodded back inside the library. The lanterns glowed an inconstant burnt orange and her gaze moved absently between the jagged shadows and the objects that cast them. She turned to Spike as he approached.

“Twilight,” he started. “I don’t mean to sound callous, but Rainbow Dash—if Red Dust comes she’ll probably be—”

“Yes.” Twilight sniffed and wiped her hooves clean. “She’s one of the best flyers in Equestria.”

“But it’ll be okay. She’s done it before, right?” said Spike.

Twilight breathed out long and slow. “You should put some pajamas on before you go to bed, Spike. The nights are getting cold.”

Spike twitched his head in response. He was staring out the window and the window reflected his blank eyes. His earlier contentedness had departed. Twilight moved to retrieve a piece of parchment from a shelf. She looked it over thoroughly and the corners of her mouth creased gently.

“I guess you must have seen the other letter I got today,” said Twilight.

“Yeah. Also from Canterlot. I was actually wondering about that.” Spike pulled away from the glass. “Who was it?”

“Trixie.” Twilight pushed an errant strand of hair back behind her ear.

“Trixie?” Spike looked at her aghast. “And this isn’t surprising you at all? Trixie?”

“Well, to be honest, it’s not the first communication I’ve received from her,” Twilight admitted. “After she left Ponyville this year, I extended an olive branch. I helped her find a job in Canterlot.”

“You did what? And you didn’t tell anyone? Seriously, Twilight?”

Twilight turned on Spike with a glare. “Was I supposed to tell someone? I just wrote her a recommendation. She works as a court entertainer now. She wasn’t exactly eager to accept my help, but her financial situation was pretty bad and she came around. She’s a talented mage and she deserved it. I am supposed to represent the spirit of friendship, right?”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Spare me the lecture. What does the letter say?”

“I thought it might cheer you up. It’s pretty touching, actually.” A gentle smile came over Twilight’s face. “I mean—I think she appreciated the gesture.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll read it to you:

“Dear Twilight Sparkle,

“Thank you for your encouragement. Your stories have made Trixie think better of you despite your earlier disrespect. Trixie has to admit that she always thought you were just a privileged aristocrat who got lucky but that does not appear to be the case. Trixie thinks that she understands you better now.

“Trixie’s show started in Hoofington but you probably know that she is actually a Canterlot unicorn as well. Trixie comes from the south side and I'm sure you know what I mean by that. My parents owned a flower shop and they barely made enough money to put me through school. But Trixie did go to school—to your school, Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, after she made top of her magic class at her local academy. You wouldn’t remember Trixie since you were whisked away by the Princess, but Trixie’s parents worked so hard to pay for that school in the hope that Trixie would elevate the family’s standing. Unfortunately, things have just been getting harder. Trixie isn’t stupid. She always knew that a showpony was ultimately superfluous in the wider view. Some glamour mages work as spies or diplomats but I don’t have those skills. I’m just an entertainer. You know, when I was traveling all over Equestria performing, I always thought that I had failed my parents. I was a “gifted unicorn,” right? I was supposed to be worth something. Worth more than a bored small town crowd. Like you.

“Please ignore Trixie’s last paragraph. She is getting soft from spending so much time with Canterlot fat cats. But anyway, Trixie heard through the court that you were in Canterlot two weeks ago. Trixie is sure you are wondering about this so she takes it upon herself to reassure you: if you really must, you are permitted to visit Trixie. She has an apartment on 34 Maple Avenue. Incidentally, Trixie was fortunate enough to receive Princess Luna as a guest once. Impressive, yes? Once more, thank you for helping me.

“Best regards.” Twilight sighed as she finished the letter. “The Great and Powerful Trixie.”

Spike scratched awkwardly at his neck. “That was nice, I guess. Why are you reading it to me?”

Twilight made a rough sound of exasperation and folded the letter away carefully. “I just thought it would be a nice respite from the situation in Canterlot.” Twilight shook her head. “It’s nice to be reminded of the reasons why I work.”

Spike offered her a tight smile and exhaled through his snout. “That’s great. You should really try and relax. You and the others have been through so much together. You’ll be okay.”

“Something seems different this time,” said Twilight distantly. “The Princess is kind of distracted. Maybe I’m just paranoid.”

“You figure that from your visit?”

Twilight nodded. “Yes. I’m about to go back up there tomorrow and I still don’t know what to think about all this. That was a strange visit.” She clicked her tongue and spoke again, more deliberately, “That was a strange day.”

Spike didn’t appear to have anything to say in response. He bid Twilight good night and went upstairs. She listened closely to the sound of Spike’s shuffling movements from upstairs until the lights went off and the library went quiet.

Left alone, Twilight lay down on her couch, the wood creaking softly beneath her. Only a year ago, she would have been delighted that the Princess would trust her with so much responsibility, and yet…

Perhaps it was Celestia’s cool and distant language, or Luna’s obvious unease, but one way or another, Twilight hadn’t been able to make heads or tails of what was happening in Canterlot, and she wasn’t looking forward to returning. This new threat, this so-called Red Dust, had the Princess concealing her hoof, and a thought occurred to Twilight—was this the first time she had been left in the dark?

Twilight looked out the window at a far off light from someone’s house that echoed unnaturally in the glass. She wasn’t scared of what was to come. This feeling was too vast to be called fear—a cavernous vertigo that lay not just within her heart but exerted a cold pressure on her from above like the world had suddenly become too huge for her to comprehend.

*****

It had been some time since Celestia had retired to her private bedchamber when her sister knocked on the door, though Celestia had not drawn her curtains and still lay alert atop her satin bedsheets, seemingly lost in thought. From her perch, Philomena burbled at the sudden sound. Distantly, Celestia called Luna in and turned slowly.

“I hope I did not disturb you, sister.”

“No, it’s quite alright.” Celestia smiled coolly. “Feel free to take a seat.”

Luna returned the smile but did not sit down. Her wings fluttered as she took a step closer to Celestia.

“I come to you because I am troubled,” said Luna. “Troubled indeed, and confused. We have seen an attack on an Equestrian settlement, the scale of which is unprecedented for almost a century, yet you conceal your thoughts from me.”

“I should have expected this. You were never one to hold back.” Celestia stood up and breathed out evenly. “You know the pony responsible for this, right?”

Luna nodded curtly. “Yes. Her.”

“You can say her name.”

“Very well. Red Dust. Red Dust is responsible.” Luna glanced out the window suspiciously.

“Come on, Luna,” said Celestia. “The name we knew her by. I haven’t heard it spoken these past two millennia. It’s not like she’ll hear us.”

“If tho–you insist, I shall say it. Dusty.” Luna’s voice was stern and clipped but a serene smile was still drawn across Celestia’s face as the name was spoken.

“Do you remember picnicking in Jeremare Park with her and Mama?” she said. “Platinum too, when she had time.”

“We suppose so,” said Luna stiffly, “when we have occasion to reminisce, at least. This would be a poor moment for such an indulgence.”

Celestia tsked lightly.

“I am troubled, sister,” repeated Luna. “I hear now of great mists blinding ponies—fire and thunder raining down from the sky. Red Dust could never cast such magic. You have spoken to your little committee and to Twilight Sparkle. What do they know that I do not?”

“The don’t know anything more than you or I do,” said Celestia. “Don’t worry yourself, please.”

Luna shifted about indignantly and Celestia sat back down on her bed. The lights of Canterlot winked and sparkled in silent communication with the stars. Staring wistfully at the dazzling sky, Celestia spoke quietly.

“Sometimes I still say the Prayer before I sleep, I remember how we once said it every night. Do you still say it?”

“Lord of Stars

So hard and bright

On the plains of heaven

Redeem our suffering

By your everlasting mercy

There is no well so dark

That your blessing cannot reach us

Let the wheel be opened, now and forever.”

It was the Prayer for Deliverance, the central prayer of the old unicorn faith. It was among the few practices of the Astral Path that remained relatively widespread in contemporary Equestria, and was known to a fair proportion of unicorns in its modern iteration. The first popular version was published in the 17th century when the sacred text of the Path, the Oneirum, was made available to the public in translation. But Celestia did not speak these familiar words; she would only recite such a prayer in Old Equestrian. The obscure sounds filled the room, and the solemn lilt of Celestia’s voice rung with an old longing. Luna inclined her head forward and averted her eyes. There was a long moment of quiet.

“No,” said Luna. “I have not said it for centuries.”

Celestia lay her head down on a pillow and let out a breathy sigh. She didn’t reply, and looked at Luna with expectant eyes. For a long moment, the space between the sisters was disturbed only by the gentle rustling of sheets and the clock’s steady, ticking progress through the hours of night.

“We are not unused to being excluded from your private business,” said Luna, “but this exclusion shall not be tolerated. We must demand a response regarding Red Dust.”

“I’m going to stop her,” said Celestia simply. “I’m going to stop Dusty once and for all. I’ll make that promise to you right now.”

“How? How will you stop her? What have you been devising up here alone?”

Celestia looked Luna in the eye with impassive certainty. “Nothing. I have no definite plans.”

After a moment’s pause, Luna broke eye contact and scowled. “Very well. We shall occupy no more of your time. Expect us to resume this line of questioning shortly.” She moved to leave.

“I’m sorry,” said Celestia. “There’s truly not much to tell. Please trust me.”

Luna only harumphed in response as the door closed behind her. Celestia’s frown deepened. She turned to lie on her side and drew the curtains.

“Oh, Dusty, what are you doing?” she murmured. “Do hurry back, Twilight.”

The clock ticked and Celestia focused on the hypnotic sound. Her eyes closed, reopened. She stared at the pale reflection of light in her mirror and thought about tomorrow.