Twilight Among the Zebras
Twilight paused on the dirt road and looked around. Off to her right, wild berry bushes grew in a pattern so haphazard that she was sure nopony had planted them. To the left was bare plain, where only a few grasses had tried to make their way through the baked soil. No buildings were around. No pegasi flew overhead. Apart from the road, there was no evidence that anypony other than her existed.
Twilight Sparkle, the princess of friendship, was completely alone. So there was no one there to see how much she was enjoying it.
Throughout her life, she had never been alone. Between her parents, her brother, Spike, Princess Celestia, her teachers, and casual acquaintances, she had never wanted for companionship. It was only once she'd removed to Ponyville that she advanced to having true friends. But this was the first time in her memory she had been alone.
She had no thoughts of the difficulties of survival. An ordinary pony, or a unicorn whose talent was specific to one form of magic might might find themselves in trouble, but Twilight trusted in her skill and her superior alicorn powers to handle any difficulty. After a moment's pause, she moved on.
While she enjoyed the moment's peace of solitude, she quickened her pace. Better than being alone on her trips was arriving at her destinations. Since they had discovered the map that had sent her all over Equestria, there had been kindled—or revealed—in her a streak of wanderlust. She found that she liked the logistics of travel, of trotting long distances, or of lazy flights to cloud towns. More than that, she liked meeting new ponies.
Part of this, she admitted, was ego. If being a princess meant new responsibilities, it also meant new privileges. In the small towns word would spread quickly that an alicorn was present, and crowds would gather. Ego, she thought, but not selfishness. She was always willing to show the traits of kindness and generosity.
Much greater, though, was a feeling she could not describe at first. If her cloistered life in a library of Canterlot had been the thesis, and her gregarious time in Ponyville had been the antithesis, her travel was the synthesis. Visiting unfamiliar places, meeting new ponies, finding the odd facts and cultural quirks of each region; it took all the lessons she had learned in friendship and made them practical. And now, if she looked at it objectively, she was no longer the reader of the books. To the ponies she met, she was a character.
She kept copious notes of her travels with an eye toward eventual publication. Travelogues were one of the major holes in her library. That was one of the quirks of Equestrian life that she discovered visiting the towns: most ponies did not like to leave their homes for very long. Going to the next town was one thing, but ponies liked to have a home base, particularly Earth ponies who were tied to farms.
Twilight found the appeal in that. After being away for two weeks, spending a week back in the library with Spike and her friends was refreshing and new.
Within her notes, and not intended to be seen by any other than herself, were Twilight's continued research on her family. She had a secret desire to know about where she had come from. The clues she had found to her ancestors guided her steps, even if then did not control them. She was not above taking a week to spend in a town where no Twilight had ever set hoof until her. But mostly, she looked for her history. It had, she thought, given her a new perspective. Equestria hadn't always been what it was now. Only by comparing to the past could she judge the present.
These were interesting times. Anypony should be able to see that. The finding and subsequent loss of the Elements of Harmony, the return of Princess Luna, Twilight's own ascension, as well as old nemeses returning from the past. All Equestria seemed to be on the cusp of change.
It fit in with another theory that Twilight was developing on her travels. She had visited several cloud cities, some sisters with traditional towns as Cloudsdale was to Ponyville, and some truly isolated, built for pegasi who wanted to live a pegasus lifestyle. Most of them had been founded around the same time, certainly within a hundred years of each other. She had first assumed that after the first one was made, the idea spread. But communication in old times was poor. By all her research, there were at least seven different initiations of the concept of a cloud city, none of which knew about the others. Indeed, three separate cities each claimed to be the oldest.
Innovation, she cautiously concluded, was not a matter of inspiration. It was something cultural. If a new time was coming for Equestria, it would happen all over. The ponies needed to be prepared.
Twilight believed in the aphorism that knowledge is power. She picked up the pace of her trot.
It was in part owing to this increased confidence in the importance of the age that Twilight had sought to get official sanction—and subsidy—for her travels through Equestria.
Before her latest journey, she had made a much smaller jaunt, over the well-traveled path to her stamping grounds in Canterlot. At the castle, she had asked to see the princess, and was escorted to a waiting room. She had to keep her composure when it was Luna, not Celestia, who came to meet her.
“Good to see you again.”
“Princess Luna! I--”
“You were expecting my sister. One of those irksome little requests for royal intervention arose, and it was her turn. Can I be of help?”
Twilight considered. Her intention had been to talk to Princess Celestia, but there was no reason that Luna could not approve funding. She spoke of her intentions.
“...to seek out the farthest corners of Equestria and beyond, perhaps even develop better relations with gryphons and zebras.”
Luna had perked her head up with interest at that, then looked off into the distance, as though she was considering the costs. “Perhaps that would be the best thing. Yes, there will be no need to consult my sister for this. I will approve the expenditure.”
And it was toward a zebra village that Twilight now set her pace. The veldt was giving way to the first trees of the rainforest, and she had to make a decision. Should she camp out and try to find the village tomorrow, or aim to spend the night with the zebras? Zecora had said that they did not live too deep in the jungle, but if she could not find them...
No, caution was the watchword. One night under the stars would not hurt her. There was no threat of rain. Twilight pulled out the checklist she had written for making camp. This would be a first for her, not to have a roof over her head during sleep. The first thing she took care of was a warding spell for any animals that happened to pass by. Gathering some loose wood, she sent sparks from her horn in to make a fire. There was no watering hole nearby, but she had some in a skin, and was able to duplicate it magically so she did not run out. After making dinner out of some bread and butter, and hoping for a better repast the next day, Twilight slept.
As she trotted through the forest the next morning, she observed that there were no signs of where the village might be. An untrained eye could go right past it, but experience or luck brought Twilight to a path that led off the main road. She saw the first huts through the trees and quickened her pace. Soon she would be among new friends.
The zebras did seem to like to sleep in, as Twilight saw no indication of any morning activities. Windows were shuttered with grass barriers. Up along the main road, she saw what she immediately concluded was the hut of the mayor, or whatever title the leader of the village claimed. It was no taller than the other huts, but boasted a larger circumference. Twilight saw two young zebra girls arranging the flowers around it. She approached and gave a gentle cough.
The one to the left of the door got to her hooves and bolted inside. The other reared back with a start.
“I'm sorry if I startled you and your...sister?” said Twilight. The zebra gave no indication whether Twilight had guessed correct, or indeed if she understood the question. “I'm a traveler through your town, looking to meet new ponies. My name is—“
“You...you need to see the chieftain! I cannot speak with you.”
Well, that answered one question. Not all zebras spoke in rhyme.
“The chieftain is in there?” she asked, indicating the large hut.
The zebra girl nodded, but used her hoof to bar the way. She went inside, and for a few minutes all Twilight could make out was some murmuring from inside. At last the filly stepped out, held the door for a moment, and then ran off.
He was a portly zebra, made to look more so by the fact that he was sitting, and in that position his stripes ran horizontally. But what caught Twilight's eye was his expression, one that she had seen many times before, when new ponies met her. They would notice either the horn first and then the wings, or vice versa, and realize they were in the presence of a princess. That alone dropped the conversational temperature a few degrees.
“My name is—“ she began.
“Who speaks before Chieftain Zeb?!”
Twilight mentally kicked herself for not getting a stronger briefing from Zecora. Now she had a problem of semantics. Did he mean, “Who is it who comes before me and speaks?” or “Who dares to speak without being spoken to?”
The chieftain settled the question to the latter guess when he rose and pointed. “You, beggar in our village. What do you want?”
“I am no beggar, sir. Forgive me if I don't know the proper form of address.”
“I like this 'sir.' If you keep your head bowed down.”
Twilight did as he asked. “I have not come to ask anything of you, sir. Indeed, I would present you with a gift if you will accept it.”
For the first time, Zeb smiled, and Twilight hoped she was getting through to him. “Let me see your gift then.”
Twilight opened her bag and levitated out a gem that Rarity had found for her. She had had it set in gold, and it would be a fitting pendant for anypony to show off in. But before she could display it, Zeb hissed and sputtered.
“I...I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?”
“You use forbidden sorcery! Cease this at once!”
Twilight was so shocked by his command that she let her horn-field fade instantly. Before she could catch the pendant, it clattered on the floor of the hut. It was dirt, but still the gold was dented and the jewel was scratched.
“I don't understand. What did I—?”
To Twilight, there was little more unnerving than being yelled at by someone larger than her. It was a point of her psychology that went back to fillyhood. She could handle confrontations, but not with heavy emotions combined with brute force.
“Magic is forbidden among zebras!” At once, though, the chief calmed down. “But of course you didn't know that. I apologize for my outburst.”
“I accept your apology. But to be strict, magic is not forbidden. I passed several magical torches on the way here, as well as an apothecary where I'm sure I smelled potion ingredients. I know a zebra who lives by me, and she uses much of the same stuff in her brews.”
“You may know a zebra, but you are not one yourself. There is a difference between magic done with care and work and study, versus that which comes from birth. You do not suffer for your magic, you only take with it.”
Twilight's forehead flashed hot with blood. Who was this backwoods zebra to say that she didn't work or study?! What did he know about the hours she sweated in her youth just trying to learn how to flip the pages of a book? But no, arguing would serve no purpose. Any creature will have his own way in his own home.
“I shall refrain from doing any more magic in your village, sir.”
“Yes, I think you shall.”
“If you please, sir, my name is Prin—my name is Twilight Sparkle, and—“
If the sight of her using levitation had put Zeb into a rage, her name wiped all expression from his face. At once he rose to all his hooves, ready for action. “You said, 'Twilight Sparkle?”
“Yes?”
“You must go. You are not welcome here.”
“May I ask why?” Twilight said, but he was already moving past her, giving her a wide space cushion as if he feared to touch her.
“Zebras!” The chieftain's voice boomed through the village; he had the practiced projection of one used to public speaking. “Keep a sharp watch, for this unicorn will not be permitted into our land. You and you, escort her to the border and see that she goes.” He pointed at two burly mares. “Her name is Twilight Sparkle.”
At once, the tension in the village increased. Every zebra stepped back save the two that the chieftain addressed. Twilight shouldered her bag, but she did not take her first step until she spoke. “Hear me. I accept this ruling and will not reenter your village uninvited. I do not know why you are so hostile to me, but that is your affair. I had hoped that we could be friends, but if that is not possible, we will at least have peace.” She followed the two mares, with all the princessly bearing she could muster.
When her escort finally deposited her at the entrance, turning their tails and swishing them to stress the point, she had a decision to make. Another night camping wasn't her idea of a good time, but neither did she want to start her homeward journey then. Her plan had been to stay as the guest of one of the zebras, making recompense with useful spells, hard work, or, if it came to it, cold cash. It also irked her that the rules of good taste and friendship prevented her from investigating why she had been given such a chilly reception.
She decided to stay. She would spend the day enjoying the forest. For all her travels, she did not spend much time there, being more interested in ponies than in nature. It took a bit of walking, but Twilight found a clearing that she concluded would make a good place for a camp. Now it was time for supper. She had her provisions, but wanted something fresh. Removing from her saddlebag a field guide, Twilight found which local roots and fungi were edible, and also found some herbs that would add flavor. She took some to dry and give to Zecora, whom she hoped would relish something from home.
It would also give Twilight an excuse to tell the tale.
She gathered wood and stacked it, not perfectly but well enough. There were matches and flint in her pack, but her encounter with the zebras had gotten her hackles up. Pointing her horn at the wood, she let loose a spell that brought the fire into full blaze without difficulty.
“That for your no-magic rule!” she said out loud. But there were more spells to be cast, safety spells that would repel the creatures of the forest and alert Twilight to any intruder, just as before. For these she had no non-magical substitute, and she wondered as she cast, was she too dependent on her magic? Should she strive for the simple ways of the Earth ponies and zebras more in her life? Well, it was something to be considered long-term, certainly not that day.
Night fell. Twilight's spells didn't keep out the noise, and she heard the crickets and owls improvise their nightly symphony. She lay back with her head on her saddlebag, her weight supported on her flanks. She wasn't tired yet, and watched the fire burn as she played with the stick that she had roasted her supper on.
The fire was banked, and even without magical support she counted on it to keep her warm until the sun rose. She rolled on her side and watched the flames dance. It was almost hypnotic. The first feeling of sleep clouded her mind.
But then she felt in her horn a tingle that brought her back fully awake. One of her spells had alerted her, but she had not moved yet. Better not to unless she needed to. In her field of vision, she could see nothing. What she needed now was to sense without seeing. She closed her eyes and let her horn do the work.
It came into focus like a sleeper waking to the sun in her eyes. The fire went dark, the stars dimmed, and as Twilight fine-tuned her sense, the small life, the bugs and birds, faded into the black. But in the middle of it all she could see the figure of a small pony hiding behind the tree. Whoever it was clearly thought they were hidden, and around any lesser mage, they might be right.
Twilight let her horn-sense ebb and opened her eyes again. She sat up and shifted her view, listening to the pony rustle the leaves as she or he moved back out of view. Her goal now was to get a read on what their intentions were. In her pack was plenty of food, more than was needed to get her home. She took out a compounded kind of cake that had been magically packed with nutrients and roasted it.
During the roast the pony did not come out, but Twilight fancied that she could her the little stomach growling. Since they weren't going to make the first move, it was up to Twilight.
“Why don't you come and sit by the fire? It's a cold night, and you must be hungry.”
She came out from behind the tree, and Twilight could see her for the first time. It was a zebra foal, and to Twilight's view she was so young that she might have only just learned to speak. Her thin stripes and cute short mane made it easy for Twilight to smile at her, which was the impression she wanted to create anyway. The little foal trotted up and got near the fire.
“What's your name, little one?”
“Z-Zoe.” Her voice was a squeak.
“That's a pretty name.”
“You're Twilight.”
“You know my name?”
Zoe nodded, a vigorous shake more fit for a dance party than simple agreement. “All the zebras heard that Twilight came back.”
“It's the first time I've come. I'm not back. Twilight Sparkle, that's my name.”
The little zebra didn't want to contradict her, but she clearly didn't agree. Twilight gave her some of the roasted food. “Now,” she said, “what are you doing out of bed and out of your village?”
“The fire...it's...gic?”
“What's that?
She raised her voice. “Magic fire?”
“Oh. No. Not in itself. I used magic to create it, though. Other zebras didn't take too kindly to that.”
“Magic isn't allowed.”
Twilight concluded that the foal was too young to be sent out as a spy. “I’m guessing that sneaking out after dark and leaving the village isn’t allowed either.”
A blush to her striped face confirmed Twilight’s suspicion. Zoe took a strong bite of the food, as if hoping to vitiate a large transgression with a minor rudeness.
“So why are you here?”
“Because I wanted to see magic. I think it’s cool!”
Twilight laughed at the filly’s word choice, figuring that this too would be frowned upon by her elders. “But you can learn to do amazing things with herbs and plants that I can’t.”
“Yeah, but all that’s just in books. What you do is special, because it’s easy for you. You just think and stuff happens.”
It was the same misconception that the chieftain had, but it sounded more innocent from the foal's mouth. “I wish it were that easy. I had to study all my life to be as good at magic as I am. And have good teachers. Do you know who one of my teachers was?”
Zoe shook her head, realizing that it was a leading question.
“A zebra.”
Wide-eyed, she looked up and said, “For really?”
“For real.” Twilight couldn’t resist the correction. “So you should study hard and maybe someday you can teach a unicorn. Or even a princess.”
Zoe finished the food that Twilight had given her, and now Twilight stood up to her full height, even opening her wings slightly to project authority. “Now I think it’s time to get you home.”
“I know where it is. I’ll be safe.”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
She followed close as Zoe retraced the path back to the village entrance. When they could see the guards outside the gate, but the guards could not see them, the little one planted her hooves in the ground. “Please…before I go…can you show me a little…you know…?”
“Magic? Sure.” She racked her brain for a spell that would impress somepony who had never seen it. The one she chose wasn’t perfect, since she would have preferred the plants of Ponyville to use, but what was present would suffice. She concentrated on the currents of the air and how she wanted it to move through the vines. A lilting sound came in a crescendo. It was enough of a tune that Zoe could be sure Twilight was causing it, but, she hoped, not attract the guards’ attention. If anything, the loudest part of the demonstration was the clomping of Zoe’s hooves.
“Yay!”
“Now, I’ll show you one more spell, but before I do, you have to say goodbye and promise to go right back home. I’ll know if you break your promise.”
“I promise. Goodbye, Miss Twilight.”
Twilight forced some glow into her horn as though to show that she was sealing the vow, but it was a bluff. “Goodbye, Zoe.” She focused on the home location she had forged in the clearing, and a split second later she was back in her camp. She bedded down for the night and was disturbed no longer.
As Twilight made her way home, she let her mind wander. Cataloging all that happened on the journey, and what she thought about it, would be a task for home. She needed time to think the thoughts first, and not in the sense of active rationality.
Spike had observed this practice in her, and it had been he who came up with the explanation. “When I reshelve the books in the library, often we take everything off the shelves first and put them in order. So we start with a mess and just randomly grab books until others fill in the gaps and we can do it systematically. I do the same thing in my brain all the time. Let my ideas get jumbled up until they start to make sense. You don’t have to do it as frequently, because you have so many shelves in your brain.”
But now the particular shelf of what she had done in the past day was full, and it needed to be resorted. So she walked at a steady pace, barely noticing her surroundings except for the landmarks needed to get her home. And so it was that it wasn’t until it was almost upon her that she noticed the cloud of dust coming up behind her, and the sound of hooves at full gallop.
When she could no longer ignore it, Twilight noticed. Adrenalin kicked in, and she looked for ways to get away if necessary. Flight might be necessary, and she prepared her wings. Teleportation was a last resort; unless done calmly and with a clear destination in mind, it could result in a worse situation than the one teleported away from.
When it became clearer that it was no monster, but only two ponies, Twilight instinctively assessed the threat. They carried pikes, but were not yet brandishing them. They came to a stop and made no move for the weapons. Now Twilight could see clearer that they were zebras from the village.
“Princess Twilight Sparkle?” one of them said.
“Yes.”
“You must return to our village at once.”
“What for?” asked Twilight, and instantly regretted the tone that she had said it in. Out of shock, she had responded to a blunt statement with a challenge, instead of asking a reasonable question. The zebra kept her distance and made no move to lower her pike, but her hoof gripped it a little tighter. “You were requested to return to our chieftain.”
She took a deep breath and calmed down. She had to look rationally. If it was a trap, some show of aggression for a perceived slight, then going with them might be trouble, whereas she was confident that she could escape from the present encounter and return home. If she refused to move until they answered her question, she could gain more information. But that might be considered petulant, and it was this logic that won out. She wanted, if possible, to be friends with the zebras of the village.
“Lead the way,” she said.
She was hard pressed to keep up with the two of them. They trotted at the same speed Twilight ran at, and if she got close to them, they sped up. But they did make haste, and soon again she was in the heart of the zebra village. Just as before, it was all but deserted. Twilight ducked her head to enter the hut of the chieftain, keeping it low so that when Zeb saw her, he would not cite her for presumption or anything. She wanted to appear contrite, even though she did not know what she was being contrite for.
“So, you are the unicorn.” It was a new voice, one Twilight had not heard. Deep and firm like Zecora's, but with a thicker accent. She looked up to see that the hut had had some impromptu remodeling done to it. A screen of reeds had been set up along one side, dividing the large room for privacy. The throne in the center from which Zeb had addressed her was empty, and the one now talking to her stood to the opposite side. Twilight looked her over.
Her stripes were pure vertical, without any of the natural contours that most of the zebras had, and her mane was cut in a straight fringe similar to Twilight's. She was scowling, and her overall appearance bespoke of a very serious zebra.
“I am Twilight Sparkle, princess of friendship.”
“Zimovia,” she said by way of introduction, but this was not sufficient for Twilight. She couldn't tell if this was an official of the village, a member of the chieftain's family, or someone who randomly had walked into the hut.
“Does Chieftain Zeb wish to speak with me?”
“The wishes of Chieftain Zeb are, at present, unknown.” There was the slightest edge of steel in her voice. “He took to bed early last night—a practice virtually unheard of among zebras—and we have not been able to rouse him since. He has a high fever and is worsening with each hour.”
Twilight's ears perked up, and she could hear the labored and steady breathing coming from behind the reed curtain. She did not know if it had been set up specifically for this occasion or if every night the cordon was built and every morning removed. But in all this, a greater question plagued her.
“I see. How can I help? Why am I required?” A dreadful thought reached her, and once more she felt the hairs on her neck raising. The zebras seemed to be fairly superstitious, particularly about magic, and here these two events had occurred in close proximity. She decided to face the problem directly. “Surely you don't think that I had anything to do with this.”
Zimovia did not respond immediately. She thought back to when she had first met Zecora, and that zebra had been accused of cursing her and her friends. It seemed even less funny now.
“No,” the zebra said at last. “I do not, and if it is being thought among the village, I hope that no one starts any rumors.”
“Then why?”
“You were summoned at the request of the leader of the village.”
“I'm confused.” Twilight gestured to the reeds, where she did not want to look. “I thought you said his illness meant that he hadn't woken up.”
“Correct. And as such leadership falls to the first in line to be the next chieftain.”
“And is it they who suspect me?”
“Not exactly.”
From outside the room she heard a high screech. “She's here?! Why didn't someone tell me?” In raced Zoe, leaping into Twilight's hooves. She reacted by catching her in an embrace, which was the only thing she could do. Then she put her down. “You're the chieftain's daughter?”
“Mmhm.”
The absurdity of it all was too much for Twilight. Didn't the zebras have any sort of regent for when the next in line happened to be a child? Clearly they did not.
Zoe continued. “And after you left I knew that Daddy was getting sick and that it all made sense why you were here. You can make him better with your magic!”
Twilight gulped. She had no idea what was wrong or how to fix it. She wasn't a medical unicorn. But then she looked at Zoe's face and, somewhere behind the assured eyes was a scared little filly worried about her daddy.
“I guess I'll have to try,” she said.
***
It was the eyes that bothered her. Twilight, as adept as she was in empathy and friendship, knew that there were some things that she could not convey to ponies or zebras of the laity, and one such thing was how much harder it was to work when you were being watched.
What she wanted more than anything was to be able to sit down in a comfortable setting, work out all the possibilities, and then announce a course of action. But that would take time, and it would produce no evidence of working. The zebras were not looking for her to sit and think, and certainly Zoe was not. Indeed, the foal was likely wondering why Twilight's horn was not already aglow.
She seriously considered doing the sensible thing, which was to tell them that the best thing that she could do was to get a real doctor here for the chieftain. She could speed back to Ponyville and have Dr. Horse here in a few days, or to Canterlot where a team of physicians would race out. Given how the zebra village treated ponies in general and unicorns in particular, it seemed the best course of action, get the professionals out.
She faced Zimovia and Zoe. “Listen. I think that the best thing for me to do is...”
But that was as far as she got before another zebra entered the hut without invitation. It was one of the guards who had brought Twilight back from the road. “If you please, Lady Zimovia, Chieftain Zoe. We have two more who have fallen ill. Zayate and Zubro, both in the last ten minutes, just passed out.”
“Thank you,” said Zimovia. “Please keep us informed.”
Twilight was approaching panic. It was now a spreading disease, and she was on the spot for it. Irrespective of whether she had caused it, the zebras were looking to her. If she failed, or left and came back too late, there might never be understanding between this village and the ponies. Or worse, the village might not even survive.
Intolerable for the princess of friendship!
“It began with Zeb. I will attend to him. May I examine his b—his hide?” She was going to say “body,” but she thought it would be too morbid to assume that they already had a corpse on their hooves, so she chose an alternate word. But that gave her an idea.
“Of course you can,” said Zoe. “Do whatever you need.”
“Has he been checked for bites? I know there is a kind of disease spread by a fly that would cause this kind of lethargy.”
Zimovia stared at her. “It is possible, of course, but we do not have many flies in this village. We keep it clean, and they have learned over time that approaching a zebra is not healthful.” She punctuated this with a whip-like lash of her tail. If all zebras were as skilled, surely no fly would dare to come near.
And so, fearing that it was a futile task, Twilight pored over the striped hide of Zeb, looking for any welt or mark and finding none. But the task finally gave her the thinking time she needed.
There were two possibilities. Either the disease was unrelated to her visit, or it was related. If it was unrelated, then why now? Why the chieftain? And why the other two?
That, at least, was a question that she might have an answer to. “Sorry, but could you tell me who the other two are who are sick? Do they attend Zeb in any way?”
“No, they are part of the soldiery. In fact, you met them yesterday. They were the two who escorted you from the village.”
Twilight's heart raced a little faster, and she struggled to stay focused. She still had not found any evidence of a bite on Zeb's hide, and it was increasingly looking as though she was the carrier.
She thought harder. What if it was the same sleeping sickness that she'd read about, but she indeed was the vector for transmission? Could she have some sort of immunity? And if so, was it possible to pass it on to the zebras?
Zoe was getting impatient. She stomped her hoof. “Twilight, why can't you just wake him up?”
“Sleep is a function of the mind,” Twilight said, “and mind magic is one of the most dangerous types of magic there is. No good unicorn just casts a spell on someone else's brain. You can do far more damage than you can help.”
“Oh.”
It felt like there should be a clue that she was missing, but she didn't have it. Twilight turned back to the chieftain. She needed the details of the disease. She needed her books, a library she could run to. But there was none. There was only her, and the problem.
She cast her memory back. When had she read about sleeping sickness. No, not when, when didn't matter. How? What was the context? The information had to be in her brain, she just needed to get it out.
The brain. That was it. The sleeping sickness was caused by a brain parasite. That must have been the clue that she was thinking of when Zoe asked her to work on her father's brain. But then why did she feel like she was still missing something?
It hit her with the lightning-bolt strength that any leap of logic gave her. Zoe hadn't given her the clue; Zoe was the clue. Why wasn't she sick? Twilight knew of no disease that would affect fully adult equines but leave foals alone. If anything, it worked the other way around.
“Zoe,” she asked, “how are you feeling right now? Are you at all tired?”
“Nuh-uh! I'm super-awake! Oh, I see. You're worried about me.”
“Yes,” Twilight said, trailing off. She was worried, but more interested. Zoe was right; she was more energetic. But why? Zoe had spent more time closer to Twilight. What was the difference?
And then she had the final piece. The disease was airborne, and close proximity to her would spread it to those who didn't have immunity. But she did, because she did magic.
“I think I know what's wrong.”
Zoe looked at her with assurance. Her faith was rekindled. Zimovia gave a more curious gaze. “Can you explain?”
“This is a disease of the brain. As I just said, that is where sleep comes from. I am the carrier of the disease, and I'm not affected because I have a horn. You cannot see it, but my horn does not only come from my forehead. If you could see inside, you would see that it extends into my head, through my skull and into my brain, where it branches off to interact with my thoughts. This is true of all unicorns. And so our immune systems are strengthened when it comes to interacting with foreign diseases that can get past the skull. Your skulls are intact, but because of that, your immune systems are weaker.”
“So what can we do?”
“I honestly don't know.” Twilight felt that, having solved the mystery, she might be permitted a few minutes now to figure out how to solve the problem. But still Zoe's eyes looked at her. “If only there were some way to impute unicorn magic into you, into every zebra in the village. To give you all your own horn structure, just enough to boost the immune system.”
Zoe was waiting for her to finish the thought, but Zimovia looked as though Twilight had just suggested something horribly scatological. Then she remembered how much the zebras held such magic as a taboo. That was its own mystery. But no matter how strong the aversion was, they were going to have to get past it.
That is, they would have to get past it if she figured out how. Twilight could no more grow a horn on a zebra than she could a pegasus or Earth pony.
“Could you maybe rub your horn on us and have some get in?” asked Zoe.
Twilight smiled. “It doesn't work that way. Unicorn horns don't just flake off like skin. They're made of the most dense substance known to equines. It's called alicorn, the same as the word for a winged unicorn like me. The only thing that can cut through a unicorn horn is...”
“...an obsidian dagger.”
Both Twilight and Zimovia looked at the filly in shock. “Yes,” said Twilight. “And that's only according to legend. How did you know?”
She pointed to the screen. “My daddy told me. He told me lots of stories about unicorns, only they were always the bad guys. You're not.”
“Thank you. But returning to the point, without one we can't slice my horn, so I'm going to have to try something el—“
“Oh, we've got one. Daddy said that all the zebra chiefs tell the next chief about it, 'cause it might be important.”
This was its own mystery, but Twilight had no time for it. “Do you really? Where is it?”
Zoe ran out and returned a minute later with something in her mouth. Zimovia breathed in sharply. “The ceremonial dagger?!”
“Yes, daddy said that it's made of obsidian. He made me learn the word.”
Twilight looked over the knife. The handle was wrapped from some sort of tanned cloth, but the blade was black and reflected some of the morning light. The edge was unblemished and perfect, and she stepped back from it. “All right. I don't know that this will work, but we have to inoculate every zebra in the village. We'll slice off a sliver of my horn, and then cut it up and put a piece into everyone's heads. How many are there?”
Zoe shook her head, but Zimovia said, “I believe there are five hundred who would need such treatment, Miss Twilight. Certainly no more.”
“Hm. Seemed like more.” Twilight took out a scratch paper from her bag along with an ink and quill and started doing geometric calculations.
“Princess?” asked Zoe.
“Yes.”
“If you cut your horn off, won't it hurt?”
Twilight tousled the little zebra's mane. “Don't worry about it. Does it hurt when you cut your mane or trim your hooves?”
“Oh, OK, that's OK.”
Focusing on her paper, reminiscing about the math classes that she had in Celestia's school when she had first learned this, never thinking that she would have applied it to such a task. Finally she had a number she was confident in, and she floated the quill up to the top of her horn and drew a point, then extended it to a parabola.
“Miss Zimovia, I'd like you to make the cut. I can't see as well as you can, since it's mine. Zoe, I need you to do an important job. Can you go and get everyone in the village and explain what needs to be done?”
“Mm-hm! I'll do it!” She ran out of the hut.
Zimovia cradled the knife in her hoof. “Are you ready?”
“Before you start,” said Twilight, “could I use one of those spears?”
“What for?”
Twilight floated over the spear until it was horizontal in front of her. She opened her mouth and checked how it felt on her teeth. “Now I'll be ready.”
Zimovia looked at her quizzically, and Twilight smiled back. “I lied, of course. If all of what I've read is correct, this is going to be the most painful experience of my life. Please try to make a clean slice and be quick.”
Impressed with her bravery, Zimovia gripped the knife firmly. Twilight watched as the blade passed out of her sight, and she felt the first cold sensation and the tingle of its touch on the mark she made. She bit down on the wood of the spear...
*
It took five minutes of panting breath before she could recover. Sweat was pouring off her and her eyes were only now coming back into focus. But there in front of her was the product of all the pain, a sliver of purple about the same length as the diameter of her hoof.
Her magic was taking longer to heal. When she floated the spear back to the wall—pointing the tooth-marks away from view—she could see a part of the sparkling field not quite covering the whole thing. It felt numb, like when Colgate had had to drill out one of her teeth. She hoped that her horn would compensate, but she didn't know.
A mirror showed her what cosmetic damage had been done. Since the cut was made from the top, anypony looking at her from the same height would not notice anything. The game would be up, she thought, the next time she spoke to Rainbow Dash, who always liked using her wings and staying a few feet off the ground. She would see that Twlight's horn was no longer a perfect spirlaing cone, but had a flat edge.
No worries about that now, she told herself. The zebras needed her.
With the dagger in her own hoof, and the sliver of horn on a crude table made from a stump, she worked on severing it into five hundred pieces. It would be possible to simply attack it like she was chopping a vegetable, but that would also be inefficient and undignified. Besides, she still didn't know if it was going to work. She took the first cut, a barely visible curl, behind the screen to where Zeb still breathed with difficulty.
Pressing it against his temple, she focused her magic on it. This needed to be done quickly, to keep her magic out of his mind, and accurately, to make sure the sliver went where it needed to go. Like sinking into quicksand, the piece of horn vanished into his head.
“And now we wait,” she said.
Zimovia soaked a cloth in cold water and put it on the chieftain's forehead, then returned to her seat. Zoe, showing a child's lack of patience, paced the floor.
“Shouldn't we be doing this to everyone else?” she said.
“Let's see if it works first,” said Twilight. Her own thoughts were conflicted. If it didn't work, the village would be in worse trouble, but perhaps her horn could be made intact once more. She chided herself for selfishness and went back to hoping. A committed rationalist, she did not believe that her hope mattered one way or the other, but still she hoped.
An hour later Zoe could take no more and put her hoof on her father's head. “It feels like he's better, and he sounds better.”
“It does sound that way,” said Twilight, “but that might just be the cold compress. Let's wait a bit longer.” After another hour even she could no longer deny that Zeb's fever was breaking. “All right. Zoe, can you line up everyone else in the village for treatment?”
The zebra foal raced out of the hut, but not before pausing at the door to look back at Twilight. The expression said it all: You saved my father. I love you.
Twilight did the work of slicing the rest of the horn. Many of the zebras were nervous about the procedure, but they listened to Zoe. Twilight still found it difficult to believe that grown equines had to follow the authority of a child, but if it worked for the zebras, she wouldn't question it.
When the last zebra was treated, it was nearly sundown. They heard stirring from behind the screen. Chieftain Zeb was coming to.
“Daddy!”
He smacked his lips and opened his eyes with difficulty. The absence of light helped. “Little one? What—?” He started getting to his hooves.
“Please be careful, sir,” said Twilight. “You've been asleep for a full day, and may still be feeling weak.”
He looked up. “You! Back here! But I ordered—“
“Please, Daddy,” said Zoe, and he looked at her with confusion in his eyes. Zimovia brought him some water and he drank. When his head had cleared, they explained in brief what had happened, including Zoe sneaking out the night before.
“I should go outside,” he said when he understood. “The zebras should see that I'm all right.”
“Rather, you should rest,” said Zimovia.
Twilight shook her head. “Let him go. People need their leader, and sometimes a leader needs his people.” Zeb limped to the door, gaining strength with each step. Zoe went along with him. Once the were out of earshot, Twilight added, “And I think he wants to be away from me for the moment. He doesn't know how to deal with the fact that a unicorn helped him, and that he has a part of one inside him.”
“You are perceptive, perhaps.”
“Thank you. I'm also thinking about making a discreet exit before they return. It might be the easiest thing for everyone.”
“Or perhaps not so perceptive.” Zimovia said with a smile.
“I don't understand. I'm also not clear...are you related to the chieftain?”
“I have a lesser title here in the village. Some have said that he and I should...Zoe's mother died in childbirth. She has been raised well by the entire village, but.... Well, it's a moot point. The chieftain will have none of me.”
“I don't see why.” Twilight was torn between her interest in the conversation and her desire to get out and not face Zeb's wrath.
“No, but it is not my place to tell you.”
Zeb walked back in, making Twilight's anxiety also academic. Sarcastically, he said, “It seems my filly has invited you back, and that I will honor.”
“She is a good child,” Twilight said, “Your people trust her. She will make a good chieftain someday.”
He looked sharply at her, but then his expression calmed. “Yes, and thanks to you it is not today. What would you have of me?”
“I need no reward. Only, if some other pony should come by, perhaps to show a bit kinder welcome. I don't know what it is that makes you so cold to me, but if you wish to keep your counsel, that is your business.” She made her way to the door.
“Wait.” She turned back to see Zeb looking up at his forehead. “Perhaps it is time for someone else to know what has only been told to the chieftain and the”—he used an unpronounceable word, indicating Zimovia.
Twilight leaned back on her haunches.
“Many years ago,” Zeb began, “longer than my great-grandmother's great-grandmother's time, the zebras lived on the edge of the jungle out by the plain. Our village walls turned only to the trees, and only then to keep out the dangerous beasts that would feast on us if left unchecked. To the other side all were welcome. And many came.
“Then one day a new visitor came. She said that she represented the ponies and desired nothing more than cultural exchange. That unicorn's name was Twilight.”
At last she understood why her name caused the reaction it did.
“Twilight Moon. That was her full name. She said that she would teach us all what magic she could, and would volunteer to use her own horn to aid our lives in any way possible.
“There began a time of great prosperity for the zebras. Food was more plentiful than ever before, and in more and tastier varieties. Instead of huts, she helped us build firm and comfortable houses. The rain could be pushed off, though Twilight Moon was not particularly adept at this skill.”
The present-day Twilight grinned, remembering Rarity's feeble attempts at weather control.
“The chieftain of the time, my long-ancestor Zub, was uneasy about this, but could not put into words why. Furthermore, he could give no reason that his people should have to give up the luxuries they had grown accustomed to.
“Twilight Moon made herself available to any zebra who asked of her a favor. She never asked anything in return. This too unnerved Zub. He did not believe that anyone could get something for nothing.
“What we soon learned was that she made herself available in another way when she came up pregnant. No zebra wanted to take credit, and she would not say the name, which implied that more than one...never mind. After a year, the first zebricorn was born.”
“A zebricorn?! I've never heard of such a thing.”
Zeb ignored her and continued. “Virtually right after the birth of the first one came the second, and then the third. Twilight Moon raised them as mother, but the whole village took them on as well. It was the only way that they could return all of what she had done for them.
“Anyone should have been able to anticipate what would happen when they came of age, but we did not. The first time that an adult zebra tried to discipline a five-year-old zebricorn only to find herself thrown back telekinetically, the first time the young zebricorn got into a scuffle with his playmates, the first time he threw a childish tantrum, no one could control him. Only his mother, and despite her efforts, she could not be everywhere.
“And so Chieftain Zub had a far weightier problem than any of those he had had before Twilight Moon came to solve all our problems. He could not send the zebricorns away; they were still young. But if they stayed, how could they all be raised to the zebra way? By this time Twilight Moon herself was aging. Zub called her to his hut and asked her to stop bearing children.
“The sorrow that she showed...she never spoke of why she had left the other ponies to come to our village and play light-bringer, but in that conversation she spoke obliquely of children that she had borne before. 'They were the world to me,' she said, 'but that world is lost.' Zub pressed her for more. She did not say that they died, only that in some manner their lives and their freedom had been taken. And now, she feared, he would do the same.
“The result of the conversation was that the last of Twilight Moon's children was born one year later.
“After that, they turned to the raising of the zebricorns into healthy adults, not to use their magic to fight with others and to protect the village. Now with more mages to help with the work, things improved more for the zebras, until the last child, Zallah, learned of his parentage. He was not the first child of Zub, but had an older sister called Zoflo. By zebra tradition, the first child of the chieftain becomes the new chieftain. Zallah did not agree.
“For the only time in our history, zebra fought zebra. Zallah promised the other zebricorns power over those who had no horns, and they might have carried the day, but one horn did not fight with them. Twilight Moon, nearing her end, sought out and found the obsidian dagger, the same one that had passed through the generations to us today. As Zallah slept, she crept to his bed and robbed him of his powers. He renounced his claim to the title and begged for clemency. Zub was not inclined to give it to him, and insisted that all the other zebricorns have their horns removed as well. He laid down that the only magic any zebra was fit to use was that which came from the natural world.
“He wanted to go further, and banish all the zebricorns from the village forever. But his time as chieftain was soon to pass. Zoflo loved her half-brother, despite all that he had done, and forgave him. She would have welcomed all the zebricorns back with equal standing, but was warned by her mother. These are recorded as the last words of Twilight Moon:
“'Keep your father's command', she said, 'and do not let magic into your life again. Seek simplicity, love your family and your people. Live within the means that the jungle provides. For this is what we are and what we are meant to be, not gods to command the world around us, but beasts of the earth, and to the earth bound.' Then she raised the obsidian dagger one last time and struck her own horn from her head.
“Zoflo wept for her mother and honored her. She ordained that the horns of any future zebricorn were to be removed at birth, when it would be least painful. But she also established the office that Zimovia now has, the secondary post of the village, chief of those born of the unicorns.”
He finished his tale, and Zimovia raised her hoof to her mane, brushing it aside. Twilight could see the black circle like a brand on her forehead.
“The other Zebras know of Twilight Moon only as a legend that brought strife,” she said. “Hearing the name, even only the given name, made them fear you.”
Twilight was still stunned by the story, and had many questions, some of which she feared they could not answer, for they dealt with the motivations of what she was sure was one of her fore-mothers. But she had one suspicion she wanted to confirm. “Thank you for telling me this. I will do whatever I can to set my name to rights. Miss Zimovia, how long have you held your post?”
“Nearly ten years.”
“And your predecessor's name?”
Zimovia looked at her oddly, but said, “She was called Zecora.”
Twilight smiled and nodded. She pictired the mohawk, barely enough to cover the mark that Twilight now knew to be there. Her mentor had been her nth cousin, tied by blood centuries past. It was poetic. Zecora had left because she couldn't handle knowing the secret of magic and not being able to share it, and had taught her more about her own magic. Now she had come to Zecora's home and learned. But was there something she could teach as well?
Surely she could not repeat the mistakes of the other Twilight and try to reintroduce magic to their lives. But she was leaving pieces of her horn here. That counted for a lot.
“So what happens now?” she asked.
“Well, we can not send you away as we did before,” Zeb said. “You must come and dine with us. We will have a community dinner for all the village, as we do on festival days. The zebras will learn to appreciate the name of Twilight and not to fear it.”
This was more in line with Twilight's recent activities, being feted at an official event. But being rustic and informal, she got to enjoy both the simplicity of a meal with friends and the pomp of being a guest of honor. Zeb told the story, and even though she had been a part of it, she was impressed nonetheless. Zeb had great talent for oral tales, which Twilight concluded was necessary for a people that kept their stories in that way.
She felt the need to return and write it down, to tell what happened in her way, and she hoped that she had the same talent in that field that Zeb had in his.
Sitting to the chieftain's right, she watched Zimovia at his left. They were a good match, and she hoped that Zeb could see past his duties to find happiness with her. Zoe needed a mother. The filly was seated at her right, and kept her attention with descriptions of which foods she preferred, and with tales of her short life.
Zoe had, of course, been awake and active for a long time, and the natural course of her day meant that she needed to go to bed at last. That started the exodus from the table as the torches burned. Many zebras offered her their huts to sleep in, but she didn't want to put anyone out of their way. She slept once more out in the open, but this time with Zeb and Zoe and Zimovia flanking her. And in the morning she set out again for home, this time with more of a bounce in her step. She received a full send-off from all of the zebras who got up in time.
Twilight was eager to see her friends again, to see Spike and to see Zecora, to give her the best wishes of her ex-village and let her know that she was welcome back at any time. Above all she wanted to get the story down so she could look at it again. It was just more of the mystery, like that from her mother and her grandmother. What made it more difficult was that she knew the ending; it was the beginning that was missing.
Why had Twilight Moon left mainline Equestria for the zebra village? Why did it seem that so many of the Twilights abandoned the society of ponies for new and simple lives? What was it they were looking for?
And what about her? Was her newfound love of travel an echo of the generational desire to get away? She didn't want to leave all her friends behind for the rest of her life.
But of course that was what she had learned over the course of her growth. She was the Princess of Friendship, and that was something that no Twilight had achieved. They were all intelligent, but only she was trained to learn to reach out. Thanks to Princess Celestia...
Well, that was its own problem. Once more the Princess of Friendship was alone on a dusty road. But now she was eager for the road to carry her home.
