Marks of Harmony: Ancillary

Marks of Harmony

Ancillary

Part 2 Turning Pages

A soft scratch of metal flying against metal combined with the warm beams of the autumn sun forced Twilight Sparkle to peak open her eyes. She blinked several times, clearing out the usual morning stiffness and seeing Spike trundling away from where he had thrown open the curtains in her loft. And as her mind gradually began to follow her body in wakefulness, she threw the blankets back over her head, mumbling at her assistant, “It’s six in the morning, Spike. On a Saturday. Go back to bed.”

“Huh, yeah right,” he called back from the bottom of the stairs. “I don’t think I could convince my stomach to skip lunch.” Twilight’s head was up like Princess Celestia herself had come calling, and the blankets were a long forgotten heap of fabric on the floor. Her eyes darted first to the sun outside, then to the clock on the wall opposite her bed. It was indeed, six o’clock in the morning. But, as it so happened, she was now more than fully awake.

“That wasn’t funny, Spike,” she grumbled as the young dragon bowled over in snorting laughter.

“That’s what… huh huh hahaha!... That’s what you think! I should have brought a mirror so you could see yourself right now! Hahaha!” He was rolling on the floor, and Twilight was forced to admit his bright morning cheerfulness was at least a tad bit infectious. As she straightened the blankets back on her bed and propped up her pillows just so, she found herself unable to be completely angry with her assistant.

After all, even though it was a Saturday, she had quite a bit to look forward to. A brief letter had come not two days after Professor Page had first come to Ponyville detailing all of the things he had finally received from his interns back in Canterlot. While a great deal of it was equipment the professor had hoof-built and which Twilight could no more understand than if she had been attempting to decipher the dead language of the Old Dragon Kingdoms, some others were definitively papers, the titles of which Twilight was certain were on record in no library. That she might be one of the first ponies to see Professor Page’s secret work had set her to much nervous anticipation.

Except, just as he had when she had been in his classes, Crafted Page masterfully diffused such emotions in Twilight simply by delaying his arrival to the library. According to Pinkie Pie, he had taken it upon himself to see the sights in and around Ponyville with nothing but the advice of locals who happened to catch his attention. And to Pinkie’s delight, he had taken quite the fancy to SugarCube Corner.

But, now Twilight had real reason to be excited. The professor had sent a letter just yesterday that he would be arriving early the next morning, and the prospect of making true headway with the discarded harness was not a little enticing for Twilight. Add to that the fact that Professor Page’s presence would drag Inky out of his self-imposed solitary life, and Twilight had even higher hopes for the day ahead.

“Okay, Spike, play time’s over. Ready to get to work?” Twilight asked her assistant as she joined him at the base of the stairs.

“What do you mean, Twi?” Spike asked, genuinely curious and worried. “I’m smart enough to not stick around with all your crazy science stuff goin’ on in the basement. Remember, I said I’d be heading over to see Pinkie and Holland.”

“Oh, sorry, Spike,” Twilight apologized with a suppressed chuckle from the mild frown on his face. “This is just such a major event! Professor Page never lets anypony else see his research.”

“Uh-huh,” Spike mumbled, unimpressed. “You need anything before I go?” he asked with a slight glint in his eye as though he had read Twilight’s mind.

“You remember what the professor likes in the morning, right?” she replied.

“Good, strong, black coffee for Celestia, and nice, soothing tea for Luna,” Spike answered, puffing out his chest and doing a rather impressive, if comedic, imitation of Page’s voice.

“Mmhm,” Twilight nodded brightly. “And since you remember so well, would you mind making some up before he comes?”

“Hey, that’s only a small little thing compared to what I usually do. You sure you don’t want me to make you something too? You’ll probably need it,” he assured her, already making his way around the small, but familiar kitchen.

“I can make myself some breakfast,” Twilight replied. “Besides, I know you’d rather be off with Pinkie and Holland than stuck in here with me, Inky, and the professor.”

“It’s not you I mind,” Spike said, putting the kettle on to boil. “And the prof is just a little weird in the head I think. He’s the one I don’t want to deal with.”

“Look, I don’t think he’s mentally stable just yet either,” Twilight quipped back to him, “but I’ll not let Aurora’s ideas rule him if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Then talk to the princesses about it!” Spike implored her, and Twilight braced for some variation she had heard from each of her friends, multiple times in some cases. “He lived a life of indoctrination. That’s not something just one pony can tackle alone. Get some help! I’m sure Princess Celestia or Princess Luna would be more than happy get him around.”

“Yes, I’m sure they would,” Twilight breathed, “but not only do they have a lot to deal with just with Aurora, but this is something I want to do myself. If a normal pony can’t help Inky, what does that mean for all the ones that left with her?”

“Whatever, Twilight,” Spike said, though not vindictively. “Just… don’t get so absorbed in saving him that we lose you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about things that won’t happen, Spike,” Twilight said, giving him a light hug. “All of you are too important for me to let that happen. Pinkie Promise.”

“I’ve got your back,” Spike replied, just as the kettle began to scream it’s readiness. “And I’m pretty sure our friends do too, but… ah, nevermind. You made a Pinkie Promise, so I think we’ll all be good.”

“Good,” Twilight affirmed, trotting out of the kitchen and into the lobby. She lit her horn, prepared several levitation spells, and moved to the edges of the library the excess reading chairs and couches. In their place, she left a small table and two couches for the three of them to lay out all the papers and research they currently had on hoof. The process was quick and simple enough, but Twilight always marvelled at how different the room appeared with so minor an alteration. She was sure Rarity would know the details of it, but Twilight only barely understood her; as she used normal terms in the most jargonic way. Still, the more comfortable atmosphere rendered by moving away much of the public seating was good for only one decent morning activity, at least in Twilight’s mind: reading.

From her personal collection behind the library’s checkout counter, she levitated over her new Daring Do novel (which Rainbow Dash had finished in record time, and which was now, unsurprisingly, the book in highest demand from the Changeling colony), rested it against one of the cushions, and lost herself in the book’s enthralling narrative. She was only vaguely aware of Spike entering the room and setting out a neat tray of coffee and tea and promptly exiting for Pinkie’s new place. Roughly thirty minutes silently and gracefully passed her by before the baritone scraping of wood against wood jolted her away from Daring’s escapade.

Twilight’s head came up from rest for the second time that day, and she felt her heart skip from the sight. Inky Jay was speeding - no, careening - down the ramp for his wheelchair. He had one wheel locked in place and was vigorously rotating the second in a panicked attempt to regain some control. If anything, he looked quite like Rainbow Dash just before a crash, and… Twilight winced as the chair reached the end of the ramp, toppling over and sending Inky rolling out and over the floor before piling up in a heap.

It was only when he struggled to right himself that Twilight let out a strangled, self-berating gasp and rushed over to help return him to his chair. “Are you okay?” she asked as she moved the chair closer to him. “You didn’t break anything did you?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Inky grunted, glaring at his useless hind-legs. “Though, I am not sure I would notice. My chest is sore, but I would expect nothing less.” She held out a hoof, and he grasped it; using his other working limb and Twilight’s own support to drag himself back into the chair. And as he did so, Twilight could not help but notice small things about him: things which were not exactly encouraging to her. His snout was covered with scraggly scruff that was at least a month in the making, his coat was nothing short of messy, and Rarity might well have fainted at the sight of his unkempt mane and tail (which only vaguely ever remembered having been dyed black). If Twilight was being honest with herself, he looked not unlike the homeless ponies in Canterlot: the look of a pony who had almost given up. And it took every inch of her willpower to say nothing.

“I do not believe I will ever master this contraption,” he said, snapping Twilight away from examining the details of his detritus. “It is an excellent construct, but pegasi balance with wings, not pedals.”

“Well, that’s what Professor Page’ll help with hopefully,” Twilight replied, and before she could hold herself back, added, “Oh, and are you going to be growing that scruff out?” She almost threw her hoof over her mouth, but Inky was already bringing up a hoof to scratch at his prickled chin.

“I… well, no… I…” he stuttered, ending only with growling under his breath. “No, I had not. It… just went unnoticed I suppose,” he reiterated with a touch more cohesiveness.

“Well, it’s not really becoming of a professional,” Twilight said, channeling Rarity for the moment. “Let’s be sure you look presentable before the professor gets here.”

“But, he arrives in less than an hour, yes?” Inky queried with concern as Twilight took a light trot ahead of him, pulling the wheelchair with her magic.

“Thirty minutes exactly,” Twilight replied with a quick glance to her clock. “It’s plenty of time. Besides, just because I’m a mare doesn’t mean I can’t help you out. Now come on.”

“As though I could choose one way or the other,” Inky glowered. Twilight patently ignored him, pushing open the bathroom door and rolling Inky in front of the mirror. She levitated the razor in front of his face and gave him the same stern look she always used on Spike until he took it with a swipe of his hoof.

“While you deal with that, I’ll wash your mane and see if a comb can do it any good,” Twilight said smartly.

“It will not do any good,” Inky said with a slight strain as he ran the razor over his chin. “It would not be the first time I have tried to tame it.”

“I’ll give a shot,” Twilight answered, already concentrating on the shampoo she had grasped with her magic in addition to the sphere of water now firmly under her control. Ever so gently so as not to break the sphere, she dipped in Inky’s mane, it falling heavy and dripping when she returned the water to the sink. A small application of shampoo and more water later, and Twilight was working at the kinks of Inky’s surprisingly wiry mane. He now had his tail in his lap, and was following suit in ridding it of general disorder as best he could.

“Sorry,” Twilight said just as she pulled another of his hairs out, and he winced in response. “But I think that’ll have to do. I’m not Rarity, but at least the professor won’t discredit you at first sight.”

Inky eyed himself in the mirror, and Twilight found herself cocking her head to the deep frown he gave himself. “Shameful. What I let happen to me, that is,” he said, flicking his tail off his legs. “And should I allow it to happen again, you have my permission to yell about my pathetic appearance.”

“I almost did,” Twilight chuckled, following him out. “Do you want some help with the ramp this time?”

“Bearing in mind that I wish to keep what is left of me from further injury, yes,” Inky replied.

“You know, you shouldn’t let your condition or the work get to your head like that,” Twilight mused aloud, wheeling his chair between the two couches before settling on one herself. “I did once, and the results weren’t pretty. I basically had the whole town chasing after an enchanted doll. Princess Celestia had to come in to fix it, believe it or not.”

“You, of all ponies, would incorrectly cast a spell? I find that hard to believe. You are far too skilled amongst the unicorns,” Inky said.

“Oh, that’s not the first time, just the worst,” Twilight said with a touch of amusement. “But, seriously, you should keep it in perspective. It’s not as though your or anypony else’s life is depending on the speed of the project.”

“I will admit, the harness has taken up far too much of my attention, to the detriment of myself in some ways, but… it is not the only thing,” Inky said, massaging his throat as the scratch in his voice briefly intensified. “And before you ask,” he added just as Twilight was about to open her mouth, “it is something I and I alone can overcome. And rest assured, so I do attempt.”

“Don’t think you can’t ask if you need anything from any of us,” Twilight answered.

“Like I said, this is something inside myself; and therefore, I will defeat its wiles within,” Inky repeated, with just enough force for Twilight to let him be, at least for the moment. Whatever was bothering him, she would not allow it to fester; and she was confident that should Inky begin to fall under the strain again, she would see the signs.

Her inner dialogues on the issue were, however, interrupted by a persistent knock on the library door and the sound of a hefty, old cough permeating through the entrance. “Come in, Professor Page!” she called, flicking open the door with her magic.

“Bloody. Fall. Leaves,” the aged pegasus grunted as he stepped into the building, kicking his hooves and rustling his wings to rid them of persistent red and yellow greenery. Once satisfied, he re-adjusted his wings a final time and lifted a set of bulging saddlebags onto the table. “Oh, Little Light you cheeky…” he said, grinning as he lifted the mug of coffee to his lips with an expertly balanced wing. He smacked rather ungraciously after his first draught, saying, “Nothing like good, strong coffee to get an old brain working, eh?”

“I would not dare to know, Page,” Inky broke in. “But, I am guessing those bags are filled with testing equipment of some kind.”

“Well, I would hope your brain isn’t old, colt,” Crafted shot back. “If it were, I’d have to have a talk with Streak about the real danger of her rambling. But, ah, to business.” He seated himself on the couch opposite Twilight, flipped open one of the bags, withdrew a spectacularly curved pipe and lit it by a means Twilight had never quite been able to understand. Both she and Inky were silent for a moment as he took several deep puffs of the smoke, with Inky acquiring a lightly amused grin when Crafted removed the pipe for a decent draught of coffee. “Yes, good show. Now let’s get started shall we?” he said at last, carefully removing several stacks of paper from his bags. “Cue me in on these Devices the little raving madfilly brought with her,” the professor added. “The buggers taking a gander at the things are keeping awfully tight lipped over the whole affair.”

“Devices operate on the completely mechanical aspect of magic,” Inky expunged. “They cut to the heart of magic, ignoring all of the personal notions associated with the casting of a spell.”

“You know about the channels in a unicorn’s horn, right Professor?” Twilight asked. Page nodded, and Twilight carried on, saying, “Well, Aurora studied them and realized that spells are innate magical energy shaped into a spell by those channels, and that they can be simple or complex. A Device is basically a contained set of channels and power source taken from a pony’s natural magic.”

“Different from objects imbued with power -” Inky began to elaborate, only to have the older pony interject.

“... in that they do not take power from the caster each time they are used… Yes, I know,” he said briskly. “The blokes studying what was left behind were just being purposefully vague. Thank you, Little Light. It certainly clears up the muddle. Onto the problem with the harness… It’s a combination of the two systems as I understand from Little Light’s letter.”

“Yes, the harness operates with Device structure but latches into a pony, therefore no longer requiring a separate energy source as the operator is on hoof to provide the necessary power,” Inky said. “It just so happens, I am struggling to render a design that is light, mechanically sound, but that also is able to isolate pegasus magic and a pony’s natural electrical current and transmit them separately but to the same -”

“Stop waggling your tongue there,” Crafted Page interrupted Inky for a second time. “It’s not doing you, me, or Little Light any good.”

“And how are you supposed to understand the full extent of the problem unless you are able to comprehend the level of complexity involved?” Inky shot back, perturbed.

“By solving one problem as it comes,” Page answered. “Now, let’s have a look at the apparatus, eh?”

“I’ll go get it, Professor,” Twilight nearly laughed as she stood from the couch. “And while I’m gone, try not to kill each other.”

“I am not exactly in a position to do so,” Inky replied with an abstract wave of his hoof, his expression rather skulking in Twilight’s opinion.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Page said cheerily, sipping his coffee again and immediately replacing his pipe afterward.

______________________________________________________________________________

Inky could, above most of his memories, remember exactly the things he had experienced in his first days within Aurora Streak’s subterranean laboratory. Confusion had been a near constant for several weeks, and it had only increased when Aurora had begun teaching him the mechanics behind magic, Devices, Latency, and Ascension. Of course, he had eventually come to grasp the concepts, but it had been a supremely difficult path: not even taking into account he was a pegasus and therefore had no means by which to see his understanding put into practice.

In those times, he had believed Aurora to be a genius, and while he still considered her to be far more intelligent than the average pony, the old stallion now before him possessed a store of intellect that baffled him even more than had Aurora. They had relocated to the basement when Crafted Page had wished to see the harness mounted as it would be upon a pony, and from then, both Inky and Twilight had done little except sit and stand by.

Page acted just as Aurora did when she became intensely involved in a project, save that Page routinely muttered and growled to himself through his pipe. Currently, the disassembled Device canons formerly attached to the harness lay strewn about his hooves, a mess of diagrams were over every inch of table space, and Inky could decipher none of it. “Is he always this… eccentric I suppose is the word?” Inky posed the question to Twilight as she levitated a small folder of her and Inky’s own studies to the impatiently beckoning wings of Page.

“I don’t… I’m not... sure,”  Twilight answered slowly, hesitantly. “I only ever took his lectures. I never did get picked for a study team. So… maybe?”

“Even if that is the case, he could at least include us in his observations. This is no pet project, nor is it an experiment where failure and success are both valuable,” Inky hissed.

“Mr. Jay,” the professor chose that moment to speak out, “your statement here makes it sound as though Aurora classified internal equine magic as a singular source differentiated only by its use between the different races. Is this true?” His head came up from the papers to stare at the pair of them critically, eyes ablaze with that passion only veteran researches possessed.

“It is. And she proved it no less,” Inky replied. “The Devices operating aboard the House of a Thousand Fangs were powered with reseviors containing both my pegasus energy and her alicorn power. They performed no less or more efficiently from the difference.”

“Mm, curious. Curious indeed,” Page went back to grunting to himself, peering ever more closely at the notes stretched out before him.

“Don’t be too quick to discount him,” Twilight warned. “He was the surgeon and general practitioner for the Wonderbolts before the school hired him.”

“And that will mean something to me how exactly?” Inky’s voice scratched, a single brow arching as the aged pegasus began making marks on his wings with charcoal and never ceasing to move between the remains of the harness and the papers. “I do not doubt his ability to comprehend Device technology, only, I doubt his ability to translate it back to us in a way that does not sound like the ramblings of one of the mentally insane.”

“He might just need some time to come up with something,” Twilight reassured him. “Yeah, just give him some time, Inky.” She reached a tentative hoof out toward Page and asked, “Um, Professor Page?”

“Yes, Little Light?” Crafted snapped, though not angrily.

“How long do you intend to be down in this basement, alone, before you are willing to include the ones who began this endeavor?” Inky asked, not a little peeved.

“Oh, two or three days at most,” Page replied frankly. “It will be quite the exciting task to convert all of my theories to a mechanized model. And what was your question Little Light?”

“I take it you’d like us to just leave you alone for now?” Twilight answered knowingly and already turning to the small stairway.

“No, you may stay as long as you like, I just dare say I will be a rather, ah, lacking conversationalist,” Crafted said, never once removing his eyes from his work.

“It’s okay, Professor,” Twilight chuckled, grasping Inky’s chair in her fore-hooves and pushing it out of the basement. “I’ll send Spike down with food for you.”

“Of course, of course,” the pegasus replied absently.

The return up into the library proper ended in Inky, to his own surprise, leaning back in his wheelchair and letting out a long, slow sigh of relief. “Part of me wants never to see that harness again,” Inky said as Twilight stopped him next to the bookshelf containing all of his favorite type of books. “And another desires only to begin work immediately… to break new ground as it were.”

“You still want Professor Page’s help right?” Twilight asked, curious, as she motioned to Spike, and they both began preparing tea.

“Of course,” Inky answered without hesitation. “He burns with that same fire of intellect you and Aurora have. I just have, mixed feelings, on seemingly hoofing over the project to somepony else. I want to trust him, and fully embracing the relief that would entail would ease my mind more than anything, but I have invested myself so heavily into studying the harness, I do not believe I will ever be able to completely trust somepony else with its modification.” He breathed out again, this time more frustratedly, and grasped a random book from the shelf next to him. He scanned its cover, and when it failed to excite his facilities, he replaced it with another.

“What are you reading now?” Twilight asked, coming up behind him.

“Nothing at the moment,” Inky grumbled. “My head cannot separate itself from the basement enough to even invest myself in good philosophy.” Twilight chuckled and ruffed his mane a bit before taking the tea tray from Spike in her magic.

“Warm tea always helps me when I’m distracted,” she said, pouring out three cups. “Let’s all take a break, drink some tea, and enjoy some quiet reading.” A cup was passed to Spike, who eagerly whipped out his latest comic from within a sofa cushion and plopped onto one of the seats. Twilight held a second next to her and hovered a third just under Inky’s chin. “Go on, take it,” she insisted sweetly, and when he awkwardly grasped it, asked, “Now, what’re you interested in reading?”

“Ponyfeathers…” Inky muttered as the scent of the tea wafted calmly to his nose. “Just find me something by Pontaire. I never tire of him.” Within seconds, Twilight had the book in his lap and open to the preface before taking a volume of some subject for her own and nestling in her favorite plush bag. A tranquil silence descended around them, and Inky found a small, content smile growing on his face. As he was currently confined to a wheelchair, they were not perfect circumstances in which he found himself, but around him were a pony and dragon who cared for him at least enough to help him live as a cripple, and good books were in his hooves accompanied by comforting silence. It was a rare moment, so he embraced it. Well, as much as the other pony in the library would allow…

“DAMN PIPE!” the incredulous voice of Crafted Page blared up from the basement, to which Twilight only shook her head with a light giggle before returning to her book. Inky blinked several times and sighed before following suite.

______________________________________________________________________________

The Badlands were not known for being conducive to society, culture, or life in general. They were  a barren wasteland that served only as a barrier between the griffon city states, Changeling hive, and Equestria. Occasionally, of course, bandits or mercenaries from any of the three nations would take refuge in the heart of the Badlands, seeking out the elusive oases. But inevitably, they would return to a more habitable wilderness, denouncing the rumor of such livable places as mere myth.

But for some, the Badlands were a haven, if a bitter one. Here they could meet with one another in privacy, discuss imminent threats to the domains of one another, merely chat, or as was the case now, meet up for a journey they had not taken place in millennia. “You’ve lost weight, Animus,” Suus commented as the vibrant orange coat of his brother came into view.

“Better than getting uglier,” Animus cracked, teleporting to close the distance between them. “And, by your smelly backside, is that a gray hair I see?”

“Shove off, you,” Suus laughed. “Probably is though. Celestia could have at least told us she was opening negotiations with our Changelings.”

“Pfft,” Animus raspberried at him. “You shouldn’t complain about being on your hooves again, especially if it makes that Fundamental-awful mane of yours look as distinguished as mine.”

“Should we wait for Ius and Axiomos, you think? Or just go straight to the spot?” Suus queried, not really expecting any sort of serious answer from his brother.

“Those stuck ups? The ones with rocks up their asses? Nah, they’ve probably been there for at least thirty minutes tapping their hooves impatiently,” Animus replied.

“Can’t blame them really,” Suus commented as the pair began walking. “Changelings may like the dark and be sneaky bastards, but at least we don’t have to watch over griffons. I don’t envy them.”

“Eh… doesn’t mean they have to let it rub off on them,” Animus said. “We haven’t let it happen to us.”

“I don’t think any creature could rub off on you,” Suus chuckled. “Too light-headed.”

“Booze is good, and I’m not drunk right now, so ha!”

“Just don’t embarrass yourself in Canterlot. I really don’t want to have to run around the city erasing memories of a new drunk alicorn,” Suus couldn’t help but sigh.

“Fine, but if Luna joins me, I promise nothing,” Animus agreed. Their talk did not end, jumping from topic to topic as they traversed the dense, rocky ground. Had any creature seen them, they would have been privy only to two ponies, armor clad, amiably chatting to one another, the words oddly never quite audible. But even if an outsider could not have understood the words, they would know the tone. That of two siblings, separated by necessity for a long while, finally coming back together again and eagerly bantering about what they had done, discovered, and otherwise found enjoyable. Nopony would ever have guessed they were on their way to ensure the world was not destroyed.