Ivy Covered Halls: A Grumpy Goat <Tail>
Ivy Covered Halls: A Grumpy Goat <Tail>
Ivy Covered Halls : A Grumpy Goat
by
De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
I thought that I was being really polite. I mean, I had a glamor spell on my body to make it look like before my “little accident.” (for details read A Bad Day For Grumpy Goat) I was speaking civilly, in spite of the garbage stream spewing from the mouth of the “street corner salvationist” with his tracts of “instant salvation.” If you happen to accept Unicorn Supremacy, that is.
“Please give me one each of your pamphlets.”
“Not giving you nothing to eat for a free lunch, GOAT!”
“Dear Luna! I would never dream of eating Celestian Church tracts! I mean, they would make me sick to my tummy for days afterwards! Not even Celestia likes your stuff! Now, if it was a Ponyville Prancer, I might consider it. They are just newsprint.”
“You are insulting the HOLY TRUTH!”
“Nonsense! How could I possibly insult that book worse than it insults itself by simply existing!”
“Vile book burner!”
“Nonsense again! It would make deadly toxic smoke!”
“Blasphemy!” He reared up impressively as he gathered reddish magic about his horn to blast me.
Not waiting to see what sort nastiness he had in mind, I hit first. A very fast little delight (for onlookers, anyway!) called Friday the 13th.
Being as previously mentioned, a goat, not an equine, I had a bunch of non-equine magic spells ready to go on one word triggers.
As he reared, I snapped, “Blooper!” That was all that it took to trigger it. Way faster than most unicorns can gather their magic.
When he went up, a hoof slipped on a somewhat slick cobblestone, and he went down! Hind legs splayed out, he hit on his ass! (apologies to any donkeys among my readers) Jolted, his magic shot nearly straight up! Harmless. Almost.
There was a loud squawk from overhead. A few vulture feathers floated down after the startled, but not harmed, buzzard emptied his bowels in surprise! No points for guessing where the buzzard poop hit. The unicorn was looking UP to see what caused the squawk!
It was a perfect bird bombing! Nose, open mouth and eyes, all at once!
I gathered up a couple of copies of each of his scattered tracts from the cobble paved square and started to saunter off.
He started to give chase! I heard clicking. You may have gathered by now, that doing something like trying to run under a Friday the 13th is a really bad idea. It was his front hooves this time. He face planted on the cobblestones hard enough to knock himself out.
The clicking? The camera of a Ponyville Prancer roving reporter who happened to get his whole attempted assault on film. She handed me her card and a consent form. Her name was Romaine. I signed the consent with serene joy.
She grinned. “We don't actually need consents on newsworthy things. Thanks, though.” She read my card carefully. “Non-equine magic? Isn't that dangerous stuff with pentacles and all?”
I nodded agreeably. “Some of it is. Some is very simple. Most of my magic does not require complex things to do, as you just saw. I am a licensed practitioner of Non-Equine Magic. All of my client contracts are publicly registered and strictly legal.”
Just about then, the unicorn recovered enough to see that I was talking to somepony. He tried a potshot with his magic. Still dazed, he missed us. But not the constable arriving to investigate the disturbance. Oops.
A somewhat scorched around the edges and frazzled of uniform constable had the unicorn in manacles and horn-capped faster than you could say, “Dear Celestia!” In some circles, it is considered bad form to zap constables who are on duty!
I waived a hoof as I muttered, “Grace!” That released the Friday the 13th. Just incidentally, it also left him with no detectable excuse for nailing the constable.
I noticed that Romaine had unaccountably failed to get my release of the spell on film. I looked inquiringly at her.
Smiling a little sheepishly, she said, “I don't like those jerks either.”
I nodded agreeably and pointed out, “They do make a quality tract. Look at that glossy paper. Those pictures of their 'long established church' are very well done. Look how well they got the color register on all of that ivy growing on the walls, around the doors and the windows.”
Romaine snickered and asked, “Pity that the words are not up to the printing quality! Have you read that garbage?”
“Of course I have, Romaine. That was why I wanted these. There are at least four and some of them have more, statements that are direct violations of the Edict of Equality. I plan to sue High Priest Hortimer and his Celestian Church out of every thin copper bit that they have.”
Romaine nodded and asked, “May I quote you or will that spoil your suit?”
I thought that over and suggested, “It won't hurt a thing if you find the statements yourself and publish it that way. No quote and no pointing to me as the source on that. Their own tracts will hang them very nicely.”
She looked about and said, “I'm hungry. Occupational hazard when you are paid by the published inch of story. I need to get home for a sandwich.”
I shrugged and suggested, “Unless you have something better to do, how about having a clover burger and shake, on me? Caramel Treat's Sweets is a good place for a goat like me to go eat.”
She responded, “Caramel's is always a good place to eat. Do you mind an inside table? The weather is closing down to a misty-drizzle.”
We were walking together down the avenue towards Caramel Treat's, sort of sheltering under the trees along side the street. I nodded, “I noticed that about the weather. I knew that it was coming too. It was ordered from the Weather Factory by a friend of mine. By no coincidence, I am going to join Caramel and Fangrin in going to a funeral this afternoon.”
Romaine thought for a moment. “Do you mean the Cumpny funeral? Why would they want a drizzle for that?”
We were just entering the shop. Caramel's superb Werewolf pony hearing picked up what Romaine asked. Caramel replied, “Besides setting the sad mood, it will help the new sod to take root over the grave. Are you going to come to Partn's funeral too? (for details, read Coalsmoke's Cutie Mark) The funeral procession will be starting here in just a little bit.
“Fangrin and I are catering the post funeral dinner.”
Jokingly, but not really very much, I said, “A merry gathering of friends to celebrate the event!
"Do we have time to get lunch before the funeral starts?”
Caramel replied with a snicker, "There should be time. It is not as if Partin Cumpny is going to get up and run off!"
We were just beginning to tuck into a couple of Caramel's really excellent burgers and shakes with a big platter of onion rings to share, when a resonant voice sonorously pronounced, “Blessings of the One True and Only Princess, Celestia, upon all here!”
There, just inside the doorway, far past any accidental intrusion, was Hortimer, self proclaimed High Priest of Celestia. He was wearing his impressive white and gold cloak, purple and gold stole, and funny tall hat over his horn.
There were only a few flies in his ointment. One was the legal one of a court Order of Protection requiring him to stay at least 100 feet from any part of the premises of Caramel Treat's Sweets.
The second fly was the merry clicking of Romaine's camera. We had called in and requested that she cover the funeral for the Prancer. She was also making a photo set for the widow. And Hortimer was perfectly documented violating the Court Order, attempting to interfere with the funeral, and all the fun that followed.
Another other fly were the two monster Everfree Ridgeback wolves, closing in, Caramel on the right, Fangrin on the left. Closing in from behind and signaling us for silence, was the widow, Coalsmoke Cumpny, in her mourning cloak, hat, veil and scarves.
Coalsmoke tippy-hooved up close, turned her back to Hortimer and craned her neck to gauge her action with exactitude. She let drive with a powerhouse of a double hoof buck, right on his reverend rear!
It drove him forward, taking his front legs from under him! He blasted across the floor of the shop on chin, chest and knees! He came to rest against the back wall, under a tangle of seats, tables and table cloths.
Coalsmoke stepped delicately past the wreckage to lean down and hiss in Hortimer's ear, “Besides the Court Order violation, you are here to desecrate my late husband's funeral with your vile spew of worthless words. What part of NO to your offer to do that for ONLY 10,000 golden bits was unclear?
“I know that you got my refusal. It had a return receipt which I got. Besides, Caramel Treat and her mate, Fangrin, are invited guests. Their Court Order would keep you from being at the funeral.”
Trying to disentangle himself from the wreckage, Hortimer demanded, “Throw the vile and blasphemous creatures of Luna out of the funeral! It is for a decent pony!”
“No. They are friends of mine and my late husband often dined here. They stay. You will be removed. The constables have been called and are on their way to remove you.”
Romaine's busy camera and notes got it all.
Hortimer's struggles redoubled at once! I gestured at Coalsmoke to get out of the way. She moved gracefully to stand between the two huge wolves that were Caramel and Fangrin. I made a simple casting gesture.
Hortimer's struggles took on different and more unavailing aspect. Coalsmoke tilted her head inquiringly and asked, “Tanglefoot?”
At my nod, she turned to an assembled group of mourners who had begun to show up but were wisely staying out of the fray. She explained, “I have seen my friend Grumpy cast that spell before. He is a licensed practitioner of Non-Equine Magic. He is really quite good at it. He will be with us at the funeral, as will my friends, the Treats.”
At that moment, a spare, white pegasus with a flat black hat came up the street and stepped forward.
Coalsmoke smiled at him and said happily, “Reverend Smallflower! I am so glad that you have agreed to officiate at Partn's funeral. You have been such a pillar of support these last few days!”
The still struggling Hortimer only managed a, “MUMPH!” Tired of listening to his garbage stream, I'd slapped Muzzle Tie on him as well as the Tanglefoot.
I observed, “I did not know that Hortimer's face could turn that shade of purple!”
Reverend Smallflower gave me a disapproving look and said gently, “Mister Goat, would you please release Hortimer? This is a solemn occasion and besides, the constables are here to take him away.”
I cheerfully did the simple gestures and a few words whispered under my breath that were needed to release Hortimer.
He rose to his feet and declared, “I shall pronounce the Anathema of Celestia upon you all! The sign of it shall be an overcast sky, denying her blessing upon you!”
To my delight, Coalsmoke pulled a paper out of her saddlebag. She held it up and said cheerfully, “Here is the sign of Anathema! The receipt from the Weather Factory ordering this weather for Partn's funeral! It will be cleared off immediately after! I had it to both set the sad mood of the occasion and to help the cemetery's flowers and sod to grow, as a final gift to my dear husband.”
Romaine was having a field day! This was the best funeral that a reporter could hope to cover! She had to reload her camera again!
Reverend Smallflower nodded solemnly to Coalsmoke, “You are generous indeed to forgive so much. I know some of what passed between you. That Special Weather Order is expensive.”
Coalsmoke managed to look sorrowful as she replied, “It is the least that I can do. He must have had a great change of heart. By all accounts, he was hurrying home to show me what they found in his case. They were True Copies of Publicly Registered Documents giving me far more financial support in such a time as this than could be reasonably expected.”
I did not even have to hide my smile. I covered by saying, “Some find it hard to properly express how they feel. I have to wonder what his parents were like. Abuse is often learned at a young age as the way to express love.
“If that was the case, then his final generosity makes perfect sense.”
Among the mourners were a number of prominent local business ponies. Several of them nodded agreement. You don't really get very far in business without a pretty good grasp of psychology.
Coalsmoke managed to look forlorn as she said, “Then he meant it, all of those times that he said that he loved me? The other times, he was trying to show it?” She wept very convincingly.
The funeral party all left for the cemetery, a curtained hearse wagon carrying the casket. Several of those business ponies, some of them financial clients of Partn's, stayed close to the beautiful and grieving widow.
The gate to the cemetery was locked with a chain. Several grinning Celestian Church priests, inside the gate, held up the key. One slimed his way close to the gate and sneered at Coalsmoke, “Only a thousand Gold Bits in cash for entry! No cash, go dump your garbage in the dump!”
She turned to the furious Reverend Smallflower and entreated, “What can we do? The Celestians are trying to ruin Partn's funeral.”
His answer earned him a lot of respect from me. He pointed with a hoof at Caramel and Fangrin first, and then at me. “Celestia rarely interferes in the affairs of ponies. She often includes the means to solve difficult problems concealed within the problem itself.
“Ask them if there is something that they can do to solve this difficulty.”
Inside the gate, the Celestians sneered, “Oh, we are terrified! If the Werewolves of Ponyville attack us they will be hauled off by the constables!”
Fangrin cheerfully pointed out, “But, not before you become toxic waste for the dump!”
Coalsmoke turned to me. “Grumpy, can you Tanglefoot and Muzzle Tie them like you did for Hortimer?”
I promptly replied, “Not without being paid to do it and having a contract. An oral one, written and registered later will do nicely. As will the sum of one copper bit. Small change for a VERY small problem.”
The Reverend promptly hoofed me the copper bit. “I have never used your services, Mister Goat. What else is needful?”
I replied, “First, the money paid shall be refunded with an additional bit added, if the terms of the contract are not met. Second, the terms are simply this. We shall all be enabled to enter the grounds of the cemetery and conduct the funeral without further interference regardless of the apparent cause of the desired result.”
“Is that all? Why can't you do it like you did at Caramel Treat's Sweets shop? Were you paid that I did not see?”
I nodded cheerfully. “Caramel and Fangrin pay me a monthly fee. A small one. They are friends of mine.”
I turned to Coalsmoke and asked, “Are you a formal witness to the Oral Contract?”
“I am.”
The priest with the key howled, “That's it! You aren't coming in here for anything! He heaved the key toward the inside of the cemetery. It hit a wasp nest in a tree! It bounced high and back! It landed in grass about ten feet to one side of the road. On our side of the fence!
The wasps boiled out and correctly identified the source of the attack on their nest. The priests started for the gate before realizing that they had locked themselves in!
Caramel had the key in hoof as we were treated to the music of fleeing Celestians howling from stings while running flat out for the pond. As they splashed into the water, Caramel unlocked the gate and gave the Reverend Smallflower the chain, lock and key for a souvenir.
Romaine was past delighted. Her camera caught the entire Celestian outrage and its natural consequence! This funeral was going to take almost the whole society page! Paid by the published column inch, she was going to make a fortune!
We went in and found the plot ready for us. The Reverend gave a moving and reasonably short sermon. We all filed past the casket and the graveyard ponies lowered Partn's earthly remains to his final rest.
As we made our way back to Caramel's place for the catered feast, I noticed that the business ponies were still staying close to Coalsmoke.
The party was actually a good deal of fun and the food, well, it was Caramel's best. That is very good indeed.
Coalsmoke, the widow sat at the head table with an empty place beside her. That place had nothing but the best served to it. Ponies spoke well of the deceased and all went as properly as any funeral could. Coalsmoke was the picture of a properly mourning widow. One that Romaine took with care.
Luna was high in the sky before I got back to my cave. It was the end of a truly wonderful day.
The next day only got better.
First thing, as I was sitting in the sun, out on the ledge in front of my cave, digesting my breakfast, Reverend Smallflower came hesitantly up the trail to my ledge.
Barely short of the ledge, he stopped and took in the curl horned goat skull with fangs where a goat's vegetation choppers should be. The glowing snake-like eyes and the everburning candle between the horns probably did not help either. That, and the fact that there was no visible body or bones holding it up, appeared to bother him.
Since I do like and respect him, I took off my skull and set the glamor of my goat body on myself. I am not sure that it helped a lot.
Holding my skull in my lap, I invited, “Come on up, Reverend, and make yourself comfortable.”
He asked carefully, “Are you some sort of demon?”
“No, Reverend. I made a bit of a mistake with the dangerous arts using pentacles. This was the result.”
“Will a blessing of Celestia and Luna cause you any problem?”
“I was at the funeral, Reverend. You blessed us then and no harm came of it. If it makes you feel better bless away! An honest and sincere blessing from you will do only good.”
With that, he simply came up onto the ledge and, a bit hesitantly, said, “After you left, last night, things took an unpleasant turn. Some Celestians came and began harassing us all but poor widow Coalsmoke most of all. They tried to steal food from the catered feast and called her vile names for having Hortimer arrested.”
I leaned back against the sun warmed iron plating of my cave entrance and asked, “What do you want me to do about it?”
Reverend Smallflower fidgeted and looked about, deeply troubled. “I do not want any of them killed or seriously harmed. I do want them severely uncomfortable for their behavior. I am not sure what it is that I want.”
Thinking over the source of his upset, I asked him, “Would you like to see them self punished for following or being Hortimer? I think that there may be a way to do that.”
The Reverend smiled as he replied, “That does sound like exactly the sort of thing that those Unicorn Supremacists need.”
He produced a fat purse from his saddlebag. “100 golden bits. I inquired about your fees. Worth every copper. After seeing that business with the key and the wasps at Partn's funeral, I have no doubt that something worthwhile will happen.”
We went inside and drew up the contract. He gave me the gold. Out of curiosity, I asked, “Where did you get this much, Reverend?”
“I could not raid the Meeting's funds for it. The roof needs a 70 golden bits repair and we are still 20 shy of being able to afford it. This is my personal savings. I was going to buy a retirement annuity with it.” He sighed, “I will just have to save for another few years to replace it.”
I drew up another paper and said, “Sign this, Reverend.”
He read it. “A donation to our building and good works fund? 50 golden bits?”
“Right. Keep it anonymous or my reputation will be in ruins. You put your own money, your small retirement, on the line to achieve justice. I do have to be paid. That is needful to the magic. I have done what I can to help.”
He took the money courteously and bid me farewell.
The door to the back chamber of my cave opened. A skull like that of a horse sized unicorn on a column of neck vertebrae poked around the door. The rest of the Litch King followed. Not a skeleton of a unicorn. An alicorn. Those wings might be only a few bones each but that does not stop them from being really functional.
Some time back, I had deliberately broken a Pentacle to give him the freedom to come and go in my cave. He has returned that trust by being a perfect house guest. He also consults freely with me on many of my contracts and often has a hoof in how they work out.
The Litch King managed to look astounded in spite of being only bone. “Grumpy? Are you alright? I just heard you GIVE a client money!”
I nodded. “Yes, Clarence, you did. I truth tested what he told me. He gave up a well earned retirement fund to get a revenge for Coalsmoke. Reverend Smallflower is exactly what a pony should be. If all ponies were as good as he is, I would have no business nor the need for one.”
Clarence, the Litch King, nodded. (Clarence is not his real name. It is one that he likes. He allows me and one other call him by it.) “That is true, Grumpy. I am well aware of Reverend Smallflower. I am glad that you chose to help him out with all three things.”
“Three, Clarence?”
“Indeed. First, a revenge for an abused friend of ours and his, Coalsmoke. Second, making Hortimer, High Priest of the Church of Celestia and his followers be uncomfortable and miserable without killing them. Finally, you helped him out in doing good by giving him money.”
He paused and went over to my book shelf and took down one that had a slipcover that said “Dark Spells” on the spine and had a phony pentagram just below the title.
Opened, the book inside the cover proved to be Daring Do and the Adventure of the X'ibian Vase. Both Clarence and I are Daring Do fans. He likes to be read to and I like reading aloud. It works for us.
We were just settling ourselves out on the ledge, in the sun, when Coalsmoke came stumping up the trail. She was wearing her proper mourning outfit and she was so angry that she was nearly steaming out her ears.
“Grumpy! Clarence! Just the ones that I wanted to see! I want to make a contract! I want Hortimer and all his followers as miserable as they are making me!”
I looked up and said, “I can't do that, Coalsmoke.”
Her lovely brows drew down into a tight V. “Why not?”
“Ethics, my dear Coalsmoke. It is unethical to take money twice for the same work.”
Her eyes went wide. She craned her neck around to gaze down the trail. Returning her eyes to us, sitting quietly in the sun, she asked incredulously, “Reverend Smallflower?”
Clarence replied, “He detested what was done to you, the names and upbraiding that the Celestians attacked you with after Grumpy left. He gave up his retirement savings for it.”
Coalsmoke thought that over and said, “I will take care of that. He really has been a big help and I do not think that I have ever met a better pony.”
Clarence confirmed, “I believe that you are correct. Now, let your troubles go for a bit by sitting here with us under Celestia's warm sun and immersing yourself in Daring Do's difficulties!” He patted the ledge beside us. Coalsmoke settled down and listened.
“Daring Do compared the characters carved over the opening, that had once been a door, to the ones on the paper. The ruin appeared to be deserted but . . .”
The story and the day ended nearly at the same moment. We all agreed that it was another fine day. As we were getting up and stretching, Coalsmoke asked, “Clarence, can you tell how long a pony will live from something simple? I have three ponies in the business community who have all asked me out.
“I am only looking for something general to help guide my choice of which pony to court. Here are their business cards, if that will help any.”
Clarence took the three cards in hoof and got a far-away look in his nonexistent eyes. He held up one card. “This pony will live a ridiculously long time unless something interferes.”
He returned that card. Holding up the next, he said, “If nothing interferes, this one will be here for another ten years or so.”
He gave back the card. Of the last one, he said softly, “This pony will die in three years time or less. He seems healthy and strong now. He is. He will not stay that way. It will be a lingering and painful end. No magic can make this life longer. It is a Fated Death. He could die sooner but he will die by then.”
Solemnly, Coalsmoke took the three cards and put them into a small card wallet. “I see, Clarence. Thank you.”
She was about to go down the trail to Ponyville when she remarked, “You know, Grumpy, you should do something about the creeping poison ivy and the poison oak stands along the trail. That stuff can really cause itching and rashes. It could cut into your business.”
Clarence's skull turned to stare at me as my skull turned to stare at him. Amusement was writ broad on both of our fleshless faces. Coalsmoke noticed.
She stopped dead in her tracks. “OK, you two, I know that look! Give.”
Humming serenely, I popped inside and came out with one of the Celestian tracts that I had gathered the previous day. Silently I pointed to the picture of the Celestian Church, with its vine covered walls and the thick vines about the front door.
Coalsmoke studied the image, then turned her head down trail thoughtfully. Then back to the image. She grinned ear to ear, as they say. Such a grin of evil delight should have had fangs showing instead of Coalsmoke's perfect teeth.
She left, making her way down the trail, skipping merrily in the flatter spots.
Clarence remarked as he watched, “It is lovely to see her happy again, Grumpy. That idea is far better than mine. I was simply thinking of hornets like those in the cemetery.
Calmly, I pointed out, “If we do it right, there is nothing wrong with both, is there?”
Clarence, the Litch King, Lord of the Dead, smiled. Not a nice one either. If a school of hungry piranha saw something helpless in the water smile like Clarence did, they would simply swim away and strip some other carcass on another day.
From my point of view, it was a delightful sign.
The next morning, I was in the Ponyville town hall, preparing to enter the Hall of Records with several contracts to register. A burly unicorn with a Celestian symbol necklace blocked the door.
He sneered, “Inferior species don't got any business here or anywhere else! Hoof me what you wants took care of. If I likes it, it get registered. I don't, it get tore up. Fifty gold bits for the service either way!”
I cheerfully replied, “Blooper!” It set off a Friday the 13th on him, like that other pony with the pamphlets. As he made a grab for my briefcase, a hoof tripped on the curled edge of a carpet runner. Splat. Flat on his face.
Goats are nothing if not agile. I hopped, landing with all four sharp hooves of my glamor body on his head, just as he was lifting it. Bonk! Back to the floor! Hard. Bounced again, on his ribs. Oof! Air whooshed out! Four bruises there real soon, too. Bounced again on his rear. Slammed him down as he was trying to rise. Delicate things came down hard on a doorstop! He squalled. I bounced off and into the Hall of Records.
The clerk there is really well used to my contracts. She knew that she did not need anything for her record but the value, time and date and the two or more principals making the contract.
Mol had it all updated and totaled up in mere minutes. I paid the small fee and was out of there. I was in time to see the dork, finally back on his hooves, slip on a waxed candy wrapper and go head first into a waste bin.
I did not bother to release him. Like it's namesake, a Friday the 13th only lasts a day. I figured that he could use the lesson, if he was smart enough to learn it.
I stopped by Caramel Treat's Sweets. To my surprise, Coalsmoke was there too. She was still in her proper mourning cloak and hat. She had a pony in a business tie with her. There was a briefcase open on their table. They were sharing the big Clover Top / Alfalfa steak with sides.
Peanut Brittle, the palomino mare who was the waitress, was staying nearby to serve them as needed.
Coalsmoke waived me over. “Grumpy! Just the Goat I hoped to see! I have been showing Arms, here, how Hackamore Hauling can save his company money. Can you tell him about your experiences with us?”
“Why sure, Coalsmoke. Mister Sway and I have already met besides at the funeral. Arms Sway Foundry and Forge made the iron and steel for my front door.”
I held out a hoof which was taken firmly. “I used Hackamore Hauling to get all of the rock working equipment up to fix up my cave for habitation. They also, and the way is difficult, brought up the timbers for my cave front, transported your excellent but heavy work, and have brought up work ponies.
“Not only could I not find a less expensive hauling firm, not one item was lost or misplaced even when they had to provide storage for up to several weeks.
“They did the whole thing for less than 2000 in gold.”
Peanut quietly brought out my favorite meal and set it out. She is a great waitress.
Arms was sitting there, listening carefully. Then he began clicking the beads of a business abacus. He drew on a piece of chart paper for a little. Stared at the result. Checked his calculations again.
“You are right. I would not have thought about it. That kind of wheel could save my company thousands a year.”
It was obvious that I had told him something besides what my words said. Coalsmoke's smile said the same. Apparently, my simple experience showed him the truth of something told earlier.
Coalsmoke interrupted the business to say, “Did you get that thing done for Reverend Smallflower?”
I replied, ”I registered the contract this morning and the gardening has already begun.”
Coalsmoke brightened up a lot at the news. She hoofed over a fat purse and an envelope. “Would you please deliver these to the Reverend before you go back up the mountain?”
“My pleasure. Will you be coming up for our Daring Do reading anytime soon?”
She winced slightly and told Arms, “Grumpy likes to read aloud. We share a guilty pleasure in the Daring Do books. When I can, I join his small reading circle.” She smiled softly, and added, “It reminds me of the best times of my fillyhood. Grumpy has a wonderful reading voice.”
To my surprise, Arms replied, “Then it is something that you should do, and often. So many of us leave foalhood behind and with it, simple joys.”
I had finished up, so I politely took my leave.
Strolling up the tree shaded lane, I saw that Reverend Smallflower was putting my gift to good use. Ponies were up on the roof, hard at work. A Hackamore Hauling wagon was being loaded with debris.
He greeted me effusively, “Brother Grumpy! I cannot thank you enough. The Meeting will not only have the new roof, we will be able to feed the hungry for over a month on your good generosity.”
He noticed me looking at the Hackamore Hauling wagon and smiled. “When Hackamore Hauling found out what the wagon the contractor got was for, they donated its cost! It saved us a great deal.”
I told him, “We need to go inside, Reverend. There are some matters to discuss that are not for the street.” Inside the Meeting's hall, we sat comfortably and I gave him the purse. “I have two things from Coalsmoke, Reverend. First this. It is not for the Meeting. It will replace what you spent of your own money. If I know Coalsmoke at all, there will be more. It remains yours. Count it up.”
Tears of joy in his eyes, the Reverend said softly, “I make it five hundred golden bits. How can I ever thank her?”
I hoofed over the envelope. “By taking this. I do not know what it is but she thought it important.”
He opened it and began to read. I could only see the fancy letterhead and a document with those fancy scrollworks and lace like patterns that make them hard to counterfeit.
He looked up in shock. His voice shook. “She has given me an Annuity. A thousand golden bits a year, paid in monthly installments. I have never had such a sum in my life. I need to take this document to the Equestrian National Bank. They will begin the payments at once!”
I tapped him on the chest gently. “This is your reward for leading a good life. I do not expect you to change because of it. Go on doing good as you have been.
“If many more ponies were as good as you, I would have no business, nor any need of one. It is a pleasure to have met you.”
Back up at my cave, Clarence wanted to know everything. He chuckled at the Celestian hit by the Friday the 13th spell. He was truly delighted by the news of Coalsmoke and her generosity to Reverend Smallflower.
We were just settling down to get in an hour or so of reading when Coalsmoke and Arms came up to the ledge. He did not even seem disturbed by my appearance or Clarence's.
Coalsmoke took the time to say, “I hope that you don't mind, Grumpy, but I brought us another Daring Do fan. I told Arms about your accident early on in learning to use non-equine magic.
“Clarence, I told him that you would be concealed by glamor and that Clarence is not your real name. He does know that you often assist Grumpy in his work.”
Arms gazed out from my ledge and observed, “Excellent view, Mister Goat. I asked the lovely mare, here, what book you were reading and I think that I am caught up with the Nippony Diamond.”
I grinned at that and we all settled down. I began to read aloud. “Daring Do, hidden behind the massive orange lacquered pillar, began to change into the complex Kimono . . .”
We did not get anywhere near the end but the sunset demanded attention. The true Celestia made the day's end a glory of light in many colors, playing about the clouds and giving them edges that glowed, seemingly of their own light.
As the last of the glow was fading, I asked, “Arms, would you mind giving us a little of Coalsmoke's time? She and I have a bit of financial business to take care of. It relates to her late husband and another connected matter.”
He turned to watch the lights coming on down in Ponyville. “No, Grumpy, I would not mind at all. Deaths, even when well planned for, leave many things to be sorted out. We might want a small lantern to light our way down the trail.”
As soon as we were inside, I asked, “Arms is the one who will only live a few years?”
Coalsmoke nodded and looked sadly towards the door that concealed him from her sight. “I first picked him for that, Grumpy. He is very nice and I hope that I can marry him.”
She turned to Clarence and said, “It is not really possible to lie to you, Clarence. Grumpy either. Is there ANY way for him to live longer? I want him to.
“He cares about his business, as any business pony should, but more, he watches over and takes care of those who work for him. He is kind and good in every way. Can you help him?”
Clarence looked deeply into Coalsmoke's wonderful eyes and replied, “I have already answered whether I can help him to live longer. No. His is a Fated Death. Can I help him? Yes. But only to pass more easily. I cannot even do that by myself.”
He kicked the Hoofball into my court. “It will take a contract of Grumpy's sort. Magic that interferes with his life. It will shorten it some. That cannot be avoided.”
I looked straight into the dark pools that were her eyes and asked, “If you should marry him, what will you do?”
Coalsmoke replied seriously, “I will be the best wife that I can possibly be until he is gone. I will get a strong financial benefit, however it works out. If it falls to me, I will continue his business and the care of his workers, just as I have done for Hackamore Hauling.”
She thought carefully and then suggested, “When he knows that he is going to die, I will bring him here and let him help to choose the terms of his passing.” She wept a little.
I decided that it was time to cheer things up a little. “Coalsmoke, dear, did you notice any poison oak or poison ivy along the trail as you came up?”
She brightened instantly. With a grin she asked, “Did it go where I think it did?”
Clarence said cheerfully, “Reverend Smallflower's contract was registered at 10:32. By 10:34, all the poison oak and poison ivy along the trail, cleared up! Even the brightly colored fallen leaves vanished. Who knows where it all went?”
We all laughed. We came out and, in Arms' presence, Coalsmoke said, “So, it is settled? Continue the maintenance and I will see to setting up a continuing payment trust for it?”
“Done. And good fortune attend you.”
She held up a lantern with an everburning candle in it. “Come, Arms. We can return Grumpy's lantern when we return for more Daring Do!”
Clarence gazed down the trail, listening to Coalsmoke's happy voice fading in the distance. “They will be a happy couple,” he said firmly.
--THE END--
(To find where the Poison Oak and Poison Ivy went, please read Immortality?)
