Numberography
A small cottage floated by the incomplete Canterlot Castle, lazily rotating, long abandoned by its former occupants. Construction on the castle had been halted indefinitely due to a tendency for the mortar to come to life and eat the bricks. Princess Platinum was not pleased with the decision, but assented, in the interests of keeping her subjects safe, inasmuch as she could do anything of the sort since Discord, King of Chaos, and Draconequus of Disharmony, had staged his coup d'état. At least they had been able to complete the living quarters of the castle, which remained largely untouched.
In one apartment among these quarters, a forest green unicorn mare with a pale blue mane sat reading by candlelight. It had been a bright and sunny day not a minute beforehand, but the sun had set without warning, giving way to a starless, moonless night. It was precisely in case of such a scenario the mare kept a candle burning in her study at all times; she had lived long enough under Discord’s reign to know she could not rely on heavenly bodies to act with reason. Other ponies, taking notice of the practice, had begun to do the same, and it was becoming quite vogue. However the popularity of the practice brought the mare no pride, but rather concerned her. The unicorn spent much time anticipating that his Disharmoniousness would catch on, and the candlesticks would come to life and start begging to be let out so they could evacuate their wax on the lawn. She wanted a back-up plan in the event of such a thing happening.
It was because of her constant (and more often than not, successful) struggle to outwit the King of Chaos that ponies continued to call the mare Clover the Clever, despite her frequent insistence that Clover would suit her perfectly fine. She had secretly hated the name for much of her life. Her mentor had given her the superlative ironically in her youth, when she was not so clever at all, and she could never seem to escape it. For a brief period when she had actually thought herself to be quite clever indeed, she had embraced the name. However in these times it just seemed superfluous, and she had taken to hating it again. It didn’t help Clover’s case that Princess Platinum insisted Clover retain the title as a mark of her status as Chief Advisor to the Crown.
Clover’s reading was cut short by a giddy squeal streaking down the hall towards the study.
“Mama! Mama! I’m done getting ready! I was ready before Luna!” screamed a pink-maned unicorn filly as she tore through the doorway. The candlelight danced on her pristine white coat, making her glow orange against the darkness of the hallway outside.
“Tia’s lying, Mama! I was done first, but she grabbed my tail with her magic and pulled me back!” This cry came from a navy blue pegasus filly with a light blue mane, who hovered in the doorway. She nearly blended into the darkness behind her, but Clover could still make out her younger daughter’s pout.
“You were cheating! Flying’s not allowed!”
“You’re just jealous that I have wings and you don’t!”
Not for the first time since her second foaling did Clover wonder why Discord even bothered sowing chaos at all when two fillies brought more disharmony to her life than she could even dream. She cleared her throat and said in a firm voice, “It’s not a race, dears. Once you’re asleep, you won’t even care who got there first. Celestia, you oughtn’t pull your sister’s tail, or you could hurt her. And Luna, just because you’re a pegasus pony doesn’t make you better than your sister. We’ve already been over this.”
The two fillies drooped their heads and contemplated their hooves as their mother chided them. Quietly they murmured, “Sorry, mother.”
“Don’t apologize to me. You haven’t done anything to me. You should be apologizing to each other.”
The two fillies dithered at the prospect of calling a truce to their ongoing feud. Luna was the first to speak up. “I’m sorry I made fun of you for not having wings, Tia.”
Celestia pouted, as her mother gazed upon her. The impassivity of Clover’s face betrayed the implied expectation. “Sorry I pulled your tail, Luna,” Celestia grumbled in reply.
Clover smiled, and nuzzled her two children. “There now, that wasn’t so hard,” she hummed. “Now, why is everypony so anxious to tell me that they’re ready for bed?”
“That one’s my fault, dear,” said a voice from the doorway. Clover looked up to see Anvil Crawler, her stallion, leaning against the door post, with a contrite smile. Like their younger daughter, he was difficult to make out against the darkness of the outside, owing to his purple coat and charcoal mane. He bit his lower lip. “I told them if they hurried up, Mama would give them a bedtime story.”
“And you did this without consulting me of course.” Clover rolled her eyes and sighed more heavily than really was necessary, then turned to her daughters and beamed. “Well, then, let’s get you to your room so you can have your story!” She then looked up and smoldered at her stallion with golden brown eyes, adding, “Papa will have to apologize properly later.”
At this, Anvil Crawler practically pranced away. Clover guided Celestia and Luna to their bedroom, and they climbed into their shared bed. Once they were all tucked in, Clover sat beside them, and asked. “So what should our bedtime story be, tonight?”
Celestia piped up instantly. “Tell us a story about Starswirl the Bearded!” She bounced in the bed at the prospect. Within moments, Luna had joined her in the bouncing, crying, “yeah! Yeah! Starswirl the Bearded!”
“Alright, already,” Clover said, waving her hoof to calm the two fillies down. Inwardly, she sighed; it was harder than she let on to tell stories of Starswirl. To her fillies, her old mentor had ascended into myth and legend, and it was so hard to imagine that perspective, because Starswirl was a very real pony in her memory. She could even remember the smell of earth and smoke that permeated his robes, and she could still hear the tinkling of the bells on his hat. It didn’t help that he had disappeared years before the migration to Equestria—most ponies didn’t even remember what he looked like. And the only memory of his voice was Clover’s rather embarrassing impression. But it was no time for reminiscing; The two girls had made their decision. Clover considered possible stories. Presently, her ears perked up and she looked Luna, then Celestia in the eye, asking, “Have I told you how Star Swirl learned numerology from the dragons?”
Luna and Celestia’s eyes grew wide. Clover stifled a laugh at their exaggerated awe. Then both fillies simultaneously burst into questions.
“Real dragons!? With claws and spikes and breathing fire and ROAAAAAAR!” yelled Luna.
“What’s numberography?” Asked Celestia. Then she turned to Luna and shouted, “I asked first!”
“Nuh-uh!”
Clover cleared her throat to before another altercation could sputter forth. She smiled at Luna and leaned close to say, “yes, real dragons.” Then she turned to Celestia.
“Numerology,” she corrected, “is the naming of numbers. In Starswirl’s Day, numbers were poorly understood, and were believed to have magical powers, and naming them was believed to grant the pony who named them those same powers. Of course, we now know that numbers are not magical at all, and we call the rigorous study of them mathematics.
“Now, In Starswirl the Bearded’s day, ponies couldn’t count to more than four—or eight if there were two of them, and they wanted to work together. Do you know why?”
“Because we only have four hooves!” Cried Celestia triumphantly, holding both forehooves toward her mother.
Clover gave Celestia a double-hoof-bump. “Right!”
Now remember, Starswirl was a very powerful magician, but he was also a very smart pony, and he soon became very tired of only having four hooves to work with, or eight if he could wrangle another pony to help him work through his divinations. Hooves worked well enough for counting out how many cakes everypony gets, or telling somepony how many foals one has. But Starswirl wanted more. He wanted to count the stars in the sky. He wanted to count the days in the year. He wanted to count the blades of grass in the field. If he could do such things, his divinatory powers would truly be great, indeed.
So he started with what he did know. At first, he tried to count the stars using his hooves. Left forehoof, right forehoof, left rear hoof, right rear hoof… Then he tried using his hooves to count how many times he had counted all of his hooves. But he lost count very quickly, and decided there must be something else to it.
Starswirl knew that his pursuit, being only an idle fancy of an otherwise undertaxed mind, was likely late to the game of counting. There must be ponies who needed to count to more than eight. He would seek these ponies out and ask them how they counted. Surely they could find a way for him to count the stars. And so he ventured from his home deep in the woods and set out to find a pony who had need of large numbers.
He soon happened upon an apple farmer, a peach-colored mare with a rosy mane, at work in her orchard. “A-ha!” thought Starswirl, “This pony must surely know large numbers if she is to count her apples. He approached the earth pony, who was busy bucking at the trees to cause the apples to fall to the earth. “Hallo, there, good pony!” He called. “I have a question to ask you!”
The earth pony paused and regarded Starswirl warily. “Pray, what is your question unicorn, or be away. My crop is not for you or yours to eat of.”
Starswirl did not move forward, for he did not want to startle the earth pony. “I wish not to eat your crop, but your crop does my question concern! How is it you count your apples when their lot exceeds four, or eight if one of your kin happens along to aid you in your counting?”
“I betcha she couldn’t count. Because she’s an earth pony,” laughed Celestia.
Clover gaped at her daughter. “Celestia, that is not something we say. Didn’t we just talk about insulting other ponies who are different from us?”
Celestia shrank back, muttering, “sorry, mother.”
But Luna persisted where her sister relented. “But Mama, you said that Starswirl learned big numbers from dragons. Earth ponies aren’t dragons, so we know that the earth ponies didn’t know big numbers, otherwise they would have taught them to Starswirl, right?”
Clover opened her mouth automatically to retort, but caught her daughter’s logic. She closed her mouth again to think. She repeated this once or twice as she started on then subsequently rejected possible rejoinders, and eventually sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she grumbled. Then, shooting a glance at Luna, she muttered, “now hush; your precociousness is showing.” This elicited a giggle from Celestia, and Luna grinned in response.
“Alright then, where was I? Ah!”
The earth pony looked nonplussed. “I know not of what you speak,” said she. “We do not count apples, apart from apportioning meals, and four apples is more than enough for anypony. Most are full after two. What need have we to count any further?”
“But what of your accounting?” asked Starswirl. “Surely you have need to know whether your crop can pay for your investment. How do you determine this without numbers greater than four or eight?”
The earth pony was totally stumped. She had no answer for Starswirl’s question. But because there was such great mistrust between the pony races in those days, she did not see mere curiosity as the sole motivation of Starswirl’s question. Instead, she thought the wizened unicorn meant to make a fool of her. She glared at him. “Begone with ye,” She growled. “I’ll not have the ways of my kin mocked by the likes of a self-righteous unicorn with such an agenda. Begone, and take your numbers higher than four or eight with you!”
Starswirl raised a hoof to deny her claims, but the incensed mare was already descending upon him. Giving up, he turned tail and fled, having come no closer to the answer to his question
After his failure with the apple farmer, Starswirl wandered onward. Presently, an idea came to him. The unicorn realm to the north was a land of great wealth, owning a great many gems. Surely, keeping track of all these gems required a way of counting to more than four. Starswirl was also in the good graces of their ruler, Princess Hearts and Arrows, so he knew she would not mistrust him as the earth ponies would. He resolved to go there, and see how Princess Hearts and Arrows kept track of her wealth. He set off to the north and began his trek.
On the path to the land of Hearts and Arrows, however, Starswirl encountered a column of pegasus warriors, flying in formation overhead, to or from some battle in the sky that Starswirl had no knowledge of. Seeing such a large number of ponies in one place gave Starswirl pause: how did they account for their numbers before and after battle? As the rearguard flew over, Starswirl hailed their commander. “Ho, commander! Starswirl the Humble bids ye descend, if you will, for he seeks to expand his knowledge on the pegasus ways!”
The commander, a proud mare of a sleek silver coat and short black mane and tail, saw in this the prospect of a unicorn, a race known among pegasi for their upturned snouts, treating her as a teacher, and therefore a superior, and her pride drove her to come within parley distance of the wizened stallion on the ground. She hovered there, regarding Starswirl with a smug expression, and finally asked. “What is it you wish to learn, O unicorn? ‘Twas my ken unicorns found pegasus ways to be boorish and crude. How comes this mage here to seek knowledge of these ways he once spurned?”
Starswirl ignored the commander’s gloating, but saw in her pride opportunity to ply her with compliments. He would not encounter the problem of mistrust he did with the earth pony. “Commander, your host is mighty. I wager I could not count them myself, possessing only four hooves with which to count. Indeed, I doubt between the two of us, we still could not count your column, for there would only be eight hooves by our combined effort. How is it you count the number of ponies in your army. Have you a way of counting past four, or eight if you enlist the aid of your lieutenant?”
The commander burst into laughter, doubling over in the air, her tears creating a light drizzle on the ground below. “Oh! the ignorance of unicorns is mighty indeed. Mage, you do well to seek knowledge of pegasus ways. You have much to learn of the ways of combat. Praytell, indulge my humor; what reason would I have to know the number of my host?”
Starswirl, at first taken aback by the force of the commander’s mirth, stood firm and pressed on. “Why, if you came upon a foe in battle, how would you know whether your army was greater if you cannot count yours and theirs? What of the ponies lost in battle? How would you know of their count, and the impact of their loss?”
The commander chuckled. “It is as I expected. Battle, my hornéd friend, is not won by numbers, it is won by ponies. I know every pony in my host, and they are all the finest fighters of any clan among the clouds. It matters not the number of ponies in my foe’s army, for my ponies will best them on the field of battle. And if a pony is lost, if they are lost at all, then it is not something to be counted, but mourned, for they are not simply a number, O mage, but a pony in themselves. To count them does not take into account their skill, and it does not take into account who they are. Forget your talk of counting to numbers greater than four or eight. It will get you nowhere in battle.”
With that, the pegasus flew after her army, leaving Starswirl to his thoughts. There was some sense to the pegasus’ claim, but Starswirl was still taken aback that despite this there was no way for the ponies to count themselves. It was of little consequence, however. Surely, Starswirl would learn of counting to numbers greater than four or eight when he made it to the realm of the unicorns.
When Starswirl finally reached the castle of Hearts and Arrows, he stood outside the portcullis and hailed the guard. “Hallo, friend! I come in peace.”
The guard, although he knew Starswirl, and his works, was obligated to remain faithful to custom. He called out. “Who goes there?”
“Tell your mistress, Her Majesty Princess Hearts and Arrows, may her horn grow ever longer, that The Great Starswirl the Bearded comes to call, that he may be granted her audience.”
The portcullis rose with a great grinding and clanking. It was all for show of course. The walls and gates may keep earth ponies at bay, but the true defenses of the castle, devised by Starswirl himself, were invisible to all but the most skilled of unicorns, and kept at bay all of the most dangerous of threats. Starswirl entered, and was greeted by an ice blue unicorn stallion with a sky blue mane and piercing aquamarine eyes. “It is good to see you again, Starswirl,” cried the guard. “Her majesty will be pleased to see you for sure! Things have been far too quiet around here. Mayhap you can bring some entertainment for our court.”
“Icicle Pop, as always you outdo yourself to make me feel welcome in this castle. Alas, I haven’t any entertainments planned for Her Highness this day. I come on business. Is milady at court this eve?”
“Indeed she is. Come, I will announce you at once.”
Princess Hearts and Arrows sat upon her throne, attempting to remain stoic. Her ministers were bickering once again over taxes, and precisely how much was owed to the unicorn realm for the raising of the sun and moon. It was a reality of the world they lived in, but Hearts and Arrows found it so meaningless these days. She was content to maintain the status quo, but her ministers had so many opinions, and she had so little patience for hearing them. She typically found it most productive to let them argue amongst themselves, and the deadlock would serve her purposes well enough. The argument was interrupted by the heralds playing the coming of a visitor.
“Hear ye! Hear ye! The Great Starswirl the Wise, for Her Majesty’s pleasure!”
Starswirl entered, and saw immediately that the stresses of ruling a kingdom had not been kind to the Princess. Her once lustrous violet coat was somehow muted, and her ruby mane was tinged with streaks of grey. Nevertheless, she was filled with vigor at the sight of the wizened mage. She spoke with a sly grin. “Starswirl, thou old goat. Thou art still alive, we see.”
Starswirl suppressed a chuckle, and bowed, as was custom. Really, it was all for the ministers, who above all hated to be made aware that the Princess had favorites, and that none of the favorites were actually a part of her court. “My Princess, as always, you charm your visitors with your kind words.”
The Princess laughed openly at Starswirl’s sarcasm. “It is one of our many faults, we assure thee. What brings thee from thy hermitage so far out in the ancient woods, to our humble home?”
Starswirl walked towards the throne as he spoke. “Your highness, you know I spend much of my time in the solitary study of magic, for the betterment of magical knowledge of all. In my studies, I have come across a phenomenon—I have need for large numbers. As you well know, I, as well as any pony, can count to four on my hooves.” He shook each hoof in turn to demonstrate. “However, unless I have the aid of somepony else, I can count no further. And even with the aid of another, I can only reach eight. I have no numbers for anything higher, and so I am on a quest to learn of ways to count higher than four or eight.
“I know you have a great wealth, your highness. I do not typically follow the politics and such of your realm, but I come now to ask how you keep account of your treasury. Surely, to account for its vastness, large numbers indeed are needed to keep track. How is it your treasurers do this?”
The Princess sat perplexed for a moment, and gave Starswirl a quizzical stare. “We have no such methods available to us, Starswirl the Bearded. Indeed, we have never had cause to account for our treasury thus, aside from accounting that it is too large to count without numbers larger than four or eight.”
One of the ministers narrowed his eyes at Starswirl, and asked him, “What need would her majesty have to even keep track of such numbers, wizard, by your reckoning?”
“Well, your majesty, how can you know if it hasn’t shrunk without your knowing? Could a thief have infiltrated your keep and made off with a hoofful of jewels undetected?”
A whisper or two could be heard from the ministers at Hearts and Arrows’s sides. The Princess ignored them and smiled at Starswirl. “Thou art too humble, Starswirl. The wards which guard our treasury are thine own. Nopony can circumvent them, save those whom they allow through.”
“Your majesty, I have good cause to be humble. I cannot simply believe myself the only unicorn as powerful as I. If another great mage were hypothetically to break my wards, how would you know you had lost any of your wealth?”
The whispers grew to a murmur, which echoed off the vaulted ceilings of the court chambers, making Starswirl feel surrounded by the voices. Hearts and Arrows could no longer pretend she had not heard the discussions happening at her sides. She glanced at her ministers, and sharply intoned, “Silence!” Then she leveled a stern gaze at Starswirl. “May we have a word with thee in private, Starswirl?”
Starswirl glanced about nervously, feeling suddenly like a raw wound. “Of—of course, your majesty,” he stammered.
The two walked into a side chamber, the Princess with her head held high, Starswirl with his head lowered and his ears drooping. Once the door had closed, the Princess wheeled on Starswirl, her nostrils flaring, her tail twitching back and forth, and her ears flattened tight against against her head. “You incorrigible dolt! What are you doing out there!? Are you trying to get the axe!?”
“Hearts and Arrows, what are you talking about? I’m just asking a question. I simply wish to know if you have methods of counting higher than four or eight!” Starswirl could not fathom how suddenly a cordial visit had become so hostile.
“And that question has been answered,” returned Hearts and Arrows hotly, “So why are you now giving yourself to the suspicions of my retinue?”
“Suspicions of what? Surely they don’t believe I, who have always been a loyal servant to the crown, and who have never had need for wealth of any sort, would break my own wards to steal your treasure!”
Hearts and Arrows sighed. “Be that as it may, you have no favor among them, as you well know. The accusations need not be true. If the ministers can cast doubt upon you, it is beyond my power to prevent them from acting in what they argue is my defense. You give yourself no aid in casting these aspersions on yourself.” She flicked her tail for good measure.
Starswirl at last broke with Hearts and Arrows’ gaze, instead staring through a tapestry on the wall. “You are correct, of course,” he sighed. He looked back at Hearts and Arrows with a grimace. “You see, this is why I typically do not concern myself with the politics of your court.”
Hearts and Arrows laughed. Not the haughty, forced laugh she used in court, but the scintillating giggle of a filly at play, which only broke through in her most private of moments. “Indeed, my dear. In fact, it is likely for the best you live out in the woods where you have nopony around to watch you eat your own hooves.” At this, Hearts and Arrows sighed, and her whole body sagged, her nose almost touching the floor. Then, she reestablished her composure, and favored Starswirl with a warm smile. She walked up to him and wrapped her neck around his, saying, “I am sorry I cannot help you in your quest, my friend.”
Starswirl haltingly returned the embrace. “Think nothing of it, Princess. It shall simply have to be an even grander adventure than it has been thus far.”
“I think Starswirl and Hearts and Arrows are in looooove!” chirped Celestia.
“Yeah, they definitely wanna do it!” added Luna.
Clover flushed at Luna’s choice of words. “Whatever do you mean by that, dear?” She said, gazing at her younger filly in shock.
Luna grinned and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “They wanna kiss, right?”
Clover swallowed her momentary mortification and chuckled. That topic could still wait for a later date. She thought for a moment how to respond to Celestia and Luna’s more present question. She had actually asked Starswirl the same question herself—well, with somewhat more tact—when he had told her the story, but he had always ignored the question whenever it came up. “They obviously were rather close.” She finally equivocated. “They had known each other for a very long time.”
Hearts and Arrows broke from the embrace and made her way back to the door. She turned her head and looked back at Starswirl over her withers. “Best you left through the secret passage ways. You still remember where they are, don’t you?”
Starswirl responded with a wicked grin. “I designed them, didn’t I?”
His escape concluded uneventfully, Starswirl made his way from the castle deep in thought. It seemed there were no ponies in the world who knew how to count beyond four or eight, and no amount of defending the pursuit for such numbers would persuade them to consider the possibility of having such numbers. It was clear that the answer to Starswirl’s question did not reside in the land of ponies. He would have to trek once again to lands unknown. In such lands were beasts and monsters of such forms as kept most ponies well within their own borders. But Starswirl was not most ponies, and he frequently traveled to those lands in search of new magics. Thus decided, Starswirl turned west.
In these travels, he encountered beasts and beings of great might, both magical and physical. He encountered even creatures of greatest cunning. Frequently, these creatures set themselves upon him before he could so much as extend a cordial greeting. Rarely, they would listen to his entreaties. But never did he find an answer. He even once thought he had happened upon the solution when he encountered a pack of Ascetic Monkeys, having observed they had, instead of hooves, paws with a multitude of digits greatly exceeding four, and even eight. But when he asked them how they counted their digits, the Monkeys scowled, and chided Starswirl for his materialism. These Monkeys, you see, had long forsaken the possession of things as a pursuit, and believed numbers only had use to inspire greed. Quantity was not a thing of value, but quality; quality of a Monkey’s soul. Starswirl begged their forgiveness for being so rude, then took his leave after sharing their tea, and promptly resumed his quest.
On a dreary eve, while passing through a deep valley between two towering mountain ranges, he was caught in a thunderstorm of proportions only the mightiest of pegasi could hope to control. He fled for a nearby cave, the depths of which he could not determine in the darkness, wherein he hoped to shelter himself, and perhaps light a fire and bed down for the night. But upon drying himself, Starswirl felt the hackles on his neck and back raise. His horn resonated with a most disagreeable sensation. He sensed a magic he had sensed but once in his time, and had hoped he would never sense again, alas.
It was Dragon Magic.
A dragon lived in this cave, and in order to warn itself of would-be thieves, had set wards, so that it could attack them before they came anywhere near its hoard. Starswirl knew that even now it was too late for him to escape. The dragon would have his scent, and Starswirl knew that to run would simply bait the dragon into the thrill of the hunt. No, it would be best to face the dragon directly, as it would certainly not damage his chances of surviving the encounter.
A roar echoed through the cavern that pierced the ears and shook the floor. Braziers throughout the cave lit through the dragon’s magical intervention, revealing the full depth of the cavern. It was no mere recess, as Starswirl had expected, but the cavern itself fell back for many yards. Within moments, the monster was upon Starswirl. It was a massive beast, covered head to toe in diamond-hard carmine scales. Along its back were razor sharp violet spines. Its eyes were twin swirling pools of orange and blood red. Upon seeing the unicorn standing fast, the dragon drew up and regarded this audacious pony warily. Starswirl met its gaze, daring not to move a muscle.
At length, the dragon spoke. Its every vowel and syllable setting off earthquakes at Starswirl’s hooves. “Why do you not run, pony? Are you mad, or do you not fear? Surely you know that I could consume you whole and need not even chew?”
Starswirl held his ground and stared into the dragon’s eyes, feeling as though he beheld entire cosmos within their swirling vortices. “Nay, great wyrm, I fear you and your wrath more than anything in this, or any realm. But I know that to leave now would be to impugn your hospitality, and that would simply not do.” Starswirl nearly kicked himself for allowing his sarcasm to show, but he was interrupted by a deafening roar.
Or what he thought was a roar. It soon became evident that rather than descending into a fit of rage, the dragon was indulging in a fit of something else entirely. The dragon was laughing. “Hospitality! In a realm where a less mild-mannered dragon would be picking your horn from their teeth by now! Truly it is no hospitality that keeps you alive, little pony, but that you are so much more amusing in this state! I may not eat you at all. Tell me! What brings a wayward unicorn such as yourself into my cavern, ser--?”
“I am Starswirl, sir. My fellow ponies call me the Wise, but surely in the presence of a dragon, my wisdom may seem rank foolishness.”
“I am no sir, O Starswirl the Bearded One!” Starswirl opened his mouth to object to this, the first utterance of what would become his standard style. But he did not complain. Surely that would only enrage the dragon further. “I suppose I should not expect a pony such as yourself to know the difference between a male and female dragon. You may call me Hroghaan. And I am no wyrm, either. Behold, my hind legs.” And the dragon turned sideways to showcase her haunches. Her eyes swirled with greater intensity as she gazed back at Starswirl. Starswirl couldn’t possibly know, but he could have sworn the dragon was fishing for a compliment.
“They are most magnificent, madam,” he choked out.
“Hah! And are they not?” The dragon bellowed, then laughed as to bring the entire cavern down around them. “Oh, Starswirl, you are quite the entertainment. I shall not eat you, after all. Indeed, you have yet to answer my question. Wherefore come you into my cave? T’was my ken ponies did not stray this far beyond their own borders.”
Starswirl was still stunned by the dragon’s laughter, but stammered out, “I was on a quest for knowledge in these lands, when a great storm came upon me, and I sought shelter here.”
“Well, then in my ‘hospitality,’ I shall offer you this shelter you seek. Pray, what knowledge do you quest for? I have lived many wakings, and have had two names, O Starswirl the Bearded One; I may have just the knowledge you are after.”
“Well, Rowan, madam,” Starswirl began, not entirely sure how to address the dragon yet, and struggling mightily to pronounce her name. She seemed unfazed. “You touch upon it yourself. I could not count the… er… wakings you have lived. Your age is a measurement of time I have no concept of, for it is too large. You see, I and my pony kin have no words for numbers greater than four—or eight, if we have another pony about to aid us.”
“’Or eight if we have another!’” hollered the dragon. Starswirl was convinced what Hroghaan was doing now was giggling, a sight he had never dreamed he would witness in his or any lifetime. “I must make time in the future to visit your kind. I could make endless jest of your ways, I wager. Ah, but you raise an interesting conundrum. For a race with only eight numbers cannot make much progress in the ways of calculation. I will help you, Starswirl. I will teach you how dragons count to numbers greater than four ‘or eight if we have another.’ Come. Count with me, now.” And Hroghaan held up both hands, which she curled into fists before Starswirl. Then, she raised a single claw, glancing at Starswirl in anticipation.
Starswirl stifled a scoff at the remedial direction this course in counting was taking, but took his cue, nonetheless. “One.”
And they continued in this manner, Hroghaan raising claws and Starswirl naming them, one through eight. Then, Hroghaan held up one claw more than eight. Silence rang out through the cavern, and Starswirl looked expectantly to Hroghaan, who regarded him impassively, whorls casting lazily about in her eyes.
Just as Starswirl was about to burst in frustration, Hroghaan looked back at her own two paws, as though she were seeing them for the first time. “In Dragontongue, we call this number nine. However, we count in increments of ten, which is the next number beyond nine. Seeing as your kind has grown so accustomed to counting to eight, then stopping, perhaps it may serve you more practically to count in increments of eight. For your purposes, perhaps you should simply refer to this as ‘one and eight.’”
Starswirl furrowed his brow and grit his teeth. He had already done this; it could not be so simple as merely stating one is adding one to eight. One would still lose count eventually. He stomped his hoof in indignation, “That cannot be all there is to it! I am no fool. Surely one can name every number! You have told me of this n- nain,” he struggled again to pronounce the draconic word, “and of the following, ‘ten.’ What follows in your tongue? Please, do not assume me daft simply because I lack your wakings, whatever those are.”
At this, the dragon once more burst into laughter, and rolled on the floor of the cavern in her mirth. Her laughter lasted quite long indeed, and Starswirl began tapping his hoof in impatience. “Why, little Starswirl, that is just it,” she roared through boiling tears. “The name of the next number in our tongue is— hahaha! Is one and ten!” The laughter began anew.
Starswirl was thunderstruck. It could not be so simple. Numbers must each have a name that is unique unto themselves. The dragon must be hiding the secrets of her numerology, lest ponies become powerful enough in their mastery of numbers to rival the dragons in power. But Hroghaan’s glee in this moment was so unfeigned. Even Starswirl, with his limited knowledge of dragons could see that. Eventually, he asked, “but why? Why cannot the dragons have a name for every number. Sure you must be old and wise enough to.”
Hroghaan ceased her laughter abruptly and fixed her gaze on Starswirl with a tilt of the head. “But my dear Starswirl the Bearded, that is impossible.”
“But—“
“It is impossible. You could name many, of many numbers, but then you would have to name the number after that. You would have to name the numbers in between those numbers. And every time you thought you had named them all, you would find a number you had yet to name. Because numbers are not finite, you see. They never end. Therefore you must create a system for naming them that predicts the name based on their components. And you may as well start sooner in predicting their names rather than later, for it only gets harder the more unique names you have.”
Starswirl had no words. His entire conception of numerology was rocked to its core. And yet, the dragon’s straightforward logic was infallible. He saw now his folly, and realized how his teacher could not but be genuinely amused by the naïveté of his assumptions. He glared at the floor, cursing his foolishness. “I am sorry, Rowan. You must think me terribly foolish.”
“Ah, but it is precisely for your ignorance I find you so amusing!”
Starswirl bristled at the barb, already feeling deeply embarrassed. But he held his tongue. He knew now just how much he would have to learn. And thenceforth, he began his study in earnest. Fittingly, he studied numbers with Hroghaan for nine moons. One more than anypony theretofore could count. Eventually, he could count to numbers as high as 16,777,215. He had taken Hroghaan’s advice, and learned to count in increments of eight. As he went, he made studious notes so he could bring these numbers back to ponykind.
Once his study was complete, he trotted out of the cave, and turned back to his mentor, and said, “I thank you many times for this, Hroghaan. I have learned more from these nine months than I have in my whole life up till now.”
Hroghaan’s muzzle contorted into what Starswirl now recognized as a quizzical smile. “Indeed, Starswirl the Bearded, but you needn’t struggle so much with draconic names for nine and ten. You have one and eight and two and eight, respectively.”
“Neigh, teacher. In honor of the dragon that brought ponykind into this new era of knowledge, and in commemoration of my struggles to learn of how to count above eight, I declare that ponies will ever struggle to pronounce the words nine and ten, if they are to begin on the journey of naming the numbers beyond. For if one is not willing to take that first step, then one is not worthy of the wonder of all that lies beyond.”
Hroghaan smiled. “I am honored. You have become quite the wise calculator these past moons, indeed. I will remember you the rest of my days, O Starswirl the Bearded. And coming from a dragon, you know that will be a very long time.”
Starswirl bowed deeply. “I, too, am honored, great wyrm.” He then turned tail and galloped off.
“I am not a wyrm!” bellowed the dragon behind him, blowing a gout of flame. “Behold my hind legs!’
“And truly they are magnificent!” Starswirl yelled over his withers.
“And are they not!” echoed Hroghaan’s voice across the valley like thunder.
Starswirl could still hear her laughter when he found his little cottage in pony country.
There, he set to work on counting the stars.
Clover looked over to her two little fillies, who had long before fallen fast asleep. They embraced in their slumber, their waking rivalry forgotten in the world of dreams. Clover smiled and made a silent prayer that they would always be there for each other as they were in that moment. She kissed them both on the brow, drew the curtains lest Discord bring the sun to zenith in the wee hours, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
