Author's Note

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.

1 Corinthians 13:1 (KJV)

Third Interview: The Tongues of Men and Angels

Zecora waits until the human has put on the necklace, and then begins again.

“Do you understand me now? Or will confusion still haunt your brow?”

The Stranger shoots up with a jolt, trips over itself, and then falls flat. It curses--the curse did not translate well, which puzzles Zecora.

“Holy shit how do you know English.”

“Pardon me, if I could not explain, for my words, I fear, did not reach your brain.” Zecora chuckles, hoping to relieve some of the tension she does not understand with a joke. The creature does not laugh. Zecora sighs. “Before you now I lay my burden down, that I might speak unchained again.”

It blinks at her.

“I was set under a strong gaesa to speak in the poetic forms of my people. I confess that it was far more difficult to do in common, where the rhyming of words produced a very different effect, but I manage. I have unburdened myself so that I might speak to you, for I fear this may be an emergency. You understand, yes?”

“Y-yeah. Oh god.”

“I do not know of which you speak, for I know only my own,” says Zecora. “Pray, tell me your name.”

“Marshall. Samantha Marshall. Earth.”

“Marshall Samantha Marshall Earth?” Zecora blinks.

“Oh. No! No, I, uh... “ She bites her lip and shen shakes her head. “No, my name is Samantha Marshall. I’m from Earth. What is yours?” she asks, tenatively.

“Zecora. I was born in the mountains south of the Zebrahara, where the jungle is dense and the dancing lively,” she says with a big smile.

And yet for all of her warmth the “Samantha” does not seem to lose her fear.

“Are you alright? You have walked, I fear, in poison joke--its effects will be no joke, whatever its name.”

“What? I’m… are you doing something to my mind? What is this thing?” Samantha tugs lightly at the talisman.

“It is merely an enchantment,” Zecora says, puzzled. “Though I suppose you have not seen Zebraharan alchemy before, I am surprised that you would not recognize magic.”

“Magic? I think you’re translators busted.”

Zecora blinks. “Pardon?”

“Magic? I mean, I don’t know what its trying to say, but that... “ Samantha shutters. “That’s not a thing. That’s real, I mean. It’s not a thing that’s real.”

“You… you say you are of… where, again?”

“Earth. Look, I’m sorry about my snare, for the love of God, if you’re doing something to my head please stop!”

Zecora took a step back. “I am doing nothing, stranger. I mean you no harm at all. I wished only to communicate with you and thank you for returning my basket. Your… snare?” The cogs turned in her mind, and Zecora blinked. “Ah! So that explains my accident in the woods. It happened so fast, I feared I had fallen ill.”

“I’m sorry. I was…” And here she paused, and some horrible emotion passed over her face which made Zecora blanch in sympathy. “I was irresponsible. It’s for catching small game. I didn’t know you were here.”

“I have heard of such things in Griffonia, though they do not prefer them. It is of no consequence, Samantha,” Zecora says and waves her hoof, feeling the strangeness of the name on her tongue. How curious. “Why do you think I touch your mind? That is a dark sort of magic. I do not dabble in these things, for they are evil.”

“I… I feel like I’m being watched,” Samantha says, breathing hard. “Please… don’t look right at me.”

“You seem unwell.” Zecora does as she is bid, but now the shaman is replaced by the shrine maiden, and she begins to summon up all of her old healing arts. Aversion to sight? Innate fear of magic? Could this be some sort of curse? She knew precious little of Equestrian curses but of Zebra spells she knew perhaps a bit too much.

“I feel like I’m dying.”

Now this kicks Zecora into another gear. She advances. “What is your kind called, Samantha?” she asks. “I fear that the Everfree has done something to you. I knew this would happen. Please, hold still. Do not fear me. I was a healer in my homeland.”

Samantha made to move, but Zecora did not act as if she noticed. She slips back into her old mannerism surprisingly easy. The human is still.

“I’m from Earth,” she says again. “Human.”

“Human,” Zecora says softly as she looks the creature before her over carefully.

“And where is this Earth? Besides everywhere, of course,” Zecora says with a slight smile. “For we are all on Earth, child.”

The creature pales. “What? No, but… but the Gate…”

“Hm?” Zecora is only half-paying attention. She is looking all over for signs of malevolent magic. No signs of bites or stings or rashes--the usual signs of the Everfree’s careless malice.

“I can’t be on Earth! I just left Earth,” the Samantha says again. “I can’t… I… oh god, it’s the same name. Calm down, Sam. Calm the fuck down. Breathe. Translator. Right. Obviously, it tanslates… the word. Right.”

“You do seem to be under great stress. Tell me, child, what is this Gate?”

“I’m… I’m not from here.”

“Hm, so that is obvious, yes,” Zecora says and steps back. “You do not seem to have been attacked by the Everfree, and yet… you shy from magic, do not believe in something so obvious… Where is this Earth? On some continent I have not walked?”

“It’s…” The human works her mouth. The longer she hesitates, the more concerned Zecora comes. Amnesia, perhaps? That would explain a lot.

Samantha points up.

Zecora blinks.

“So your people live like the pegasi, in the clouds?” she prompts.

Samantha shakes her head, and then drops her hand. She sighs.

“No, that’s not right… not even what I was saying. It… Friggin’... Imagine the whole like everything. The universe.”

“The four corners of creation,” Zecora says patiently.

“Now imagine there were lots of them.”

Zecora begins to laugh but then she sees the look of frightened certainty in the human’s eyes.

And she too is a little frightened. “I do not think I understand,” she lies shakily, “but you are obviously unwell. I have a tea blend which will calm your frayed nerves, child, and then we will talk at length. Will you come?”

Samantha shivered. “Y-yeah. Yeah, okay. You’re not doing this on purpose?”

“No.”

“Okay. And you brought me the basket?”

“Yes. Did you not read my… ah, of course. Do you have it?”

Sam nods and after digging in her pack she pulls out the scroll. Zecora reads:

Dearest Stranger:

Greetings,

Please, accept this gift in the spirit that it was offered in. I have noticed you quite by chance, and by chance discovered that you have not been doing well in your attempts to forage. You are new to the Everfree, and I fear you do not know the dangers here. If you would see me again, there is a path to my dwelling south of here, and I will aid you in seeking out the nearest town. If this is not acceptable, I urge you at least to be careful, for the Everfree is dangerous.

Zecora looks up. “That is what is says.”

Sam looks down. “I caught you. In my snare.”

Zecora tilts her head. “Yes. Of course, if you did not know I lived here it is of no matter!”

The human shivers, but nods. She follows the zebra inside.

And somewhere, on the path, the blackshirt waits to speak to the Pioneer as she returns home.