Strange Alchemy

The carriage trundled forward rapidly over the worn dirt path, drawn by four earth pony servants. The paved roads of the city had long since run out, and even the relatively smooth dirt paths that led outward on the path to distant places had faded into rutted, rock-filled, rural paths that could barely be considered real roads.

The repeated jostling of the ride was annoying and uncomfortable. Dee held a number of notes and charts on the table that sat between him and his wife, trying to study, but the cart would repeatedly bump just enough to move his eyes away from where he was reading, and writing was almost entirely impossible. The best he could hope to do was check his calculations, and even doing that was oddly difficult with the hard and uncomfortable seat that irritated his arthritis.

Momentarily, he glanced up at Fyr’mond. Although Dee had insisted on closing the curtains to the carriage to prevent him from getting carriage-sick, his wife was peering out a small gap between the rear of the cabin and the dark cloth. Her eyes were wide and her mouth nearly gaping as they passed through the fields and forests. Occasionally, she would gasp with surprise, usually when she saw any kind of bird or animal. Or even certain trees. To Dee, it was profoundly annoying. He greatly regretted allowing here to come.

Eventually, he could no longer tolerate her constant excitement. “Excuse me,” he said, looking up. “But could you please stop that?”

“Oh,” she said. “My apologies, husband.” Her eyes shifted back toward the opening, then back to the table, looking down at the notes that she could no doubt not even remotely understand. “It’s just that…all that land out there. All that space. My father rules over all of that?”

Dee looked up at her, and then shifted one of the pages aside. Beneath it was a map of the known world with parts of it etched over in ink notes. Before she had started to bother him, he had been reviewing an old calculation, an anomaly that he had realized when raising the sun and moon.

“This is Equestria,” he said, pointing toward the center. “That dot in the center is the Citadelic City.”

Fyr’mond looked down in awe. “So everything I’ve ever known…it’s only as big as that dot?”

“Smaller, actually.”

“And all this…” she gestured at the outline of Equestria, and Dee pulled the page away to keep her from touching it. “That is what my father rules? That land, and the skies above it?”

“Nopony can own the skies,” muttered Dee. “But yes.”

“And the rest of the world…it’s just so big!”

“Really,” said Dee, considering the idea for the first time. He looked down at his map, at the vast regions that nopony laid claim to, and the borders of the neighboring tribes and nations. “No,” he said at last. “This is all so small.”

“Small?” Fyr’mond seemed confused.

“Panbios itself is small. So very small. Nothing more than a spec, floating in a void that dwarfs it a hundred thousand times and a hundred thousand times again. So much lies beyond the impassible expanse of the sky.” He felt himself growing wistful as he thought of how truly large the universe was- -and how empty he knew it to be.

Fyr’mond seemed to notice. Dee had found that she was oddly perceptive, a trait that was both slightly endearing and highly annoying. He detested being analyzed, but it had been so long since anypony had even bothered to attempt to understand what he was feeling.

“You must know so much,” she mused.

“I do. It is why I am Magus.”

“But…”

“But what?”

“It must be so lonely.”

Dee nearly dismissed such a ludicrous idea- -but then realized that it was absolutely true. That thought had never even occurred to him, and yet she had seen it so clearly. “Hmm….yes,” he said. “I suppose, in a way. But it is necessary. A Magus is not like a College wizard. Our power comes from the fact that some secrets are ours alone to bear.”

“Well…at least we have each other now.”

Dee grumbled and went back to his papers. He felt himself blushing like a colt, but tried to hide it. Such was not proper for a Magus, and especially not regarding a pony like her.

They sat in silence for several moments until the cart began to slow.

“What is it now?” cried Dee, tearing open the shades and pushing out the window. “Why have you slowed down?” he demanded from the earth ponies pulling the cart.

“My apologies, Master Dee,” said one of the ponies. He was sweating, and his mane was disgustingly saturated. Behind him, Dee could see the other servants disconnecting themselves from the carriage and approaching a small bubbling stream that sat by the road. “We will be but a moment.”

Dee grumbled again, annoyed. He wanted them to keep going, but he was not a fool. He knew that they were living beings, just as he was, and that they too needed water. Were he to force them to keep going, one might collapse of dehydration and slow them further. So, as much as he disliked the fact that they had biological needs, he let them drink.

As he turned back to his charts- -now, for once, being able to scrawl several quick notes on a piece of parchment- -he saw Fyr’mond staring out at the stream and the earth ponies drinking form it.

“I have a question,” she said.

“You seem to have many of those,” muttered Dee.

“For a mage of your power, husband, would you not be able to create some manner of device that could power the cart?”

“An engine?” said Dee. He thought for a moment. “Yes. I could. Easily. But I see no need to.”

“But they look so tired,” she said. “Is not this strenuous for them?”

“They are earth ponies,” said Dee, looking up. “They are dull in mind but strong in body. Running does them no harm. And stop to consider what you are suggesting. Yes, I could built a magical engine for a carriage, but the energy still must come from somewhere. It would come from me, from my magic. And you also seem to be implying that my engine would pull both us, our supplies, and the servants.”

“I…I am.”

“Then you would ask me, their master, to pull them? Would that not be a reversal of the natural roles?”

“Well…I suppose so.”

“Still,” sighed Dee, reluctantly. “I suppose it is a good idea. I suppose unicorns could use it to move themselves if they are too poor for servants. I believe I will…invest some small modicum of thought into this engine. So…I suppose that means it would be proper for me to…thank you, or somesuch.”

Fry’mond smiled, knowing that she had helped. Dee was embarrassed, but he suppose no one needed to know that she had invented the idea. He would be the one doing all the work of invention, so it would be only right for him to take credit for the new magical creation.

The earth ponies finished drinking and dunking their heads in the stream, and then returned to their places harnessed to the carriage. Dee jotted down several reminders and a preliminary sketch as they prepared themselves, and then felt the carriage move once again as they started to trot.

There had been enough delays. They were drawing closer.