Chapters Part 1, Chapter 1: The Maid of the Library
The dashing unicorn prince parried the claw of the enormous black dragon with the thin blade he held expertly in his magical grip. The beast snarled as the tip of one hooked talon fell away from the razor-sharp edge of the Damarescus steel, to bounce down the side of the hoard of gold and gems upon which he made his nest.
Prince Silverhoof took a moment to glance over the monster's shoulder at the cage of black annamannatite alloy, his argent mane glittering in the reflected light of the torches that shimmered off the mound of treasure in the center of the chamber. Within lay the object of the quest, his beloved fiancé, Princess Everheart, her powerful alicorn magic rendered useless by the nullification properties of the alloy that drained her and left her helpless.
The dragon roared in rage, but moved cautiously as the blade rose to his eye level, suspended in a pale nimbus that matched the one that flickered up the prince's horn. He knew that a strike to the eye could blind him, or worse, and backed away slowly, stilling his rage as he regarded the noble unicorn below him.
"Well struck," the villain said in a growl. "What is it brings one such as you to the humble cave of Deathworm?"
"My princess does, " said the Prince. "How dare you ponynap her and keep her here in durance vile?" The blade flashed menacingly.
Deathworm grunted. "Ponynap? Her? Me? You believe I ponynapped her? Do you think I transformed into - I don't know, a mouse perhaps? And snuck into her tower and spirited her away without her guards noticing?"
Silverhoof looked momentarily unsure of himself. "Uh - did you?"
"No!" Small puffs of smoke escaped from the dragon's nostrils. "I'm a dragon , not a changeling! I rescued her from a band of earth pony brigands that were taking her along the mountain road in a cart."
"You rescued her?!" The prince stared at the dragon, his jaw hanging in an undignified manner.
Deathworm shrugged, the scales on his massive shoulders clattering as his wind from his wings stirred the cobwebs around the cave. "Well, sort of. I ate the brigands and then checked to see what treasure they had in the cart under the blanket, and..." he gestured at the supine alicorn, "...there she was."
"Why didn't you let her out then?" Silvermane's blade slowly dipped away from the dragon's face as he looked up, curious.
Deathworm sat back on his haunches and waved the claws of one mighty talon in front of the prince. "These were not made for the turning of pony-sized keys, are they? And even if I could, an alicorn waking up in the cave of a dragon might not be in the mood to chat. You know that round lake in the Dragon Lands with the glass bottom? Want to know why it's called Alicorn Lake?"
"Ah. So, if I put my sword away, are you going to eat me?" The blade rose again, this time in a guard stance.
The dragon put his claw to his chest in a fist and tapped several times. "Oh no, I had just woken up and I was famished. I won't have to eat for another couple of weeks. Besides, I don't even really like pony. A nice fat cow is more like it; pony is kind of, well, gamey and a bit on the dry side for me. No offense."
The prince bowed his head. "None taken," he said as his silver locks fell around his aristocratic neck, returning the blade to its sheath. "So, may I take her with me?"
"She's not doing me any good, so sure, why not?" Deathworm turned and searched around the corner in a pile of assorted junk. "Where did I put... aha!" He pulled out several saddlebags. "These are the bandits' rather meager belongings. I would think the key is probably in one of them." He tossed the bags to land at the unicorn's hooves.
A nimbus glowed about the sacks and belts as the prince rummaged through them. "Hmm, nope, no, um why would they need a... never mind... um, ah, here we are!" A brass key glowed in the sure grip of expertly trained magical power. Triumphantly, Silverhoof held the key aloft.
The dragon cleared his throat, belching a sulfurous cloud. "Ahem! Just how did you know where to look for her anyway?"
The prince seemed to be looking miles into the distance as he drew himself up to his full height and pronounced, "Our bond of love, pure and true, is such that no distance, no barrier, no foul foe..." he paused, looking up, "...er, present company excepted..." and returned to his heroic pose, "... nor deepest sea, nor highest mountain, can bar..."
"OK! I get it!" Deathworm rolled his dinner plate eyes. "So you always know where she is?"
The prince deflated sightly. "Well, um, yes."
"So why didn't you rescue her sooner? From the bandits? I've had her here for two days already. I've been giving her water but I was a bit concerned she'd starve to death."
The prince scowled. "I was trapped in the dungeons of the wicked Troll King Mumamamababarrara! I knew my love was in peril, but my way was blocked by his army of..."
The dragon held up a claw to stop his exposition once more. "Does she always know where you are?"
Silverhoof reinflated, "Our bond of love, pure and..." he paused, seeing Deathworm's expression start to darken. "Yes!" he concluded with a flourish.
"And how long were you trapped in the dungeons of King Mamam... Mumum..."
"Mumamamababarrara."
The dragon nodded, "Yes, that dastardly fellow. How long were you trapped?"
"Three weeks! I had to drink from stagnant pools and eat glowing mushrooms!"
"So, she knew you were trapped for three weeks and she didn't come rescue you? Or send an expedition to find you?" A coal-black brow cocked over a garnet eye.
"Um..." The hero paused. "I'm - I'm sure she had, um..."
"Important affairs of state to attend to?" Both brows rose as the dragon's lower lip curled down, mockingly.
"Yes. Yes. Important affairs. Of state." Prince Silverhoof frowned.
"CLEMENTINE!" A rich alto voice rang out from the kitchen.
The unicorn filly slammed the dog eared copy of "The Silly Prince" shut and stuffed it under her straw mattress. Her thin, piping voice called, "Coming, Cookie!" as she went into action, grumbling to herself about being late again. She was short and skinny, not yet marked, light gray of coat, brown of eye and with a sandy mane and tail that were wholly unremarkable in every way except for their tendency to tangle, which was indeed remarkable.
Jumping out of the bed, she whipped off her patched, gray shift and jumped into her patched, gray homespun scullery smock, then grabbed her somewhat stained gray bonnet and tied it under her chin. No time to comb out my mane, of course. She hastened to the door and reached out her hoof to grab the latch. And missed. And tripped. And wound up in an heap on the floor. Celestia, I hate mornings!
As she lay in a daze, the door to the small bedroom she shared with the cook opened. Above her, scowling, towered old Cookie, a weathered, ugly old earth mare with a wart on her jutting chartreuse chin and a curly white mane that threatened to explode from under her bonnet. Two small black eyes that glittered like diamond chips looked down on her in disapproval that softened to concern. "Are you hurt, child?"
She shook her head and slowly regained her footing. "No, Cookie." She gathered as much dignity as a clumsy eight year old could and said gravely, "I remain undestroyed, thank you." The old cook had cared for her ever since she found her on the road beside the overturned coach six years ago, a mile from the estate. Not found, so much as tripped over, Cookie had told her. Of her parents, coachponies and any others, there was no sign. Her first memories were of being carried by the old mare in the rain that cold, dark night, and a warm voice that whispered that she was safe and would be cared for. She loved the cook with all her heart and knew she was loved in return as the foal the cook never had. She counted herself blessed.
The concerned eyes hardened again. "Well, what is good news for you is probably bad news for the cups and dishes. Now get to the kitchen before somepony notices!"
She hastened to comply, but stopped for a moment and turned, momentary sadness reaching her mud-tinted eyes. "But nopony ever notices me. Except for you."
The cook's stern expression warred with her heart, and as always when confronted with Clementine, her heart won and she melted. She stepped forward to hug her and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "They will someday, my love. Someday." The hug turned into a light slap on the fanny. "Now get! Go burn the kitchen down, maybe they'll notice that!" The filly rolled her eyes and cantered down the hall to the kitchen as the cook closed the door.
Cookie strolled to the bed and lifted up the mattress, seeing the book that had been borrowed from her ladyship's library, without permission, of course. She thinks I don't know. The old mare looked at the writing on the cover and wondered what it could be about. All she could tell was that it was different than the one she had seen last week. She couldn't read, but of course, none of the other servants could either, except for the butler, Mr. Glass, and that only to keep records.
How does she do it? The cook replaced the book, knowing it would be returned when finished, and replaced with a new one. She gets upstairs, into the library of all places, exchanges a book, and escapes with nopony noticing. The cook frowned, puzzling. And how does she know how to read in the first place? She was a foal when I found her, not even two years old. Nopony could have taught her! Is it possible to teach yourself to read? Could she have learned the basics when her mother was reading to her, looking at the pages? No, that couldn't be.
Cookie paced the small, plain room, turning every few seconds. If she's caught, we'll both be turned out by Mr. Glass. But what else does that poor filly have except for her books? If I took that from her, she'd wither and die inside. A unicorn who can't use magic? A cripple, without even stories to escape to? Ah well, I'll leave it up to fate. Celestia, watch over her!
She heard a shriek from the kitchen, and the blood left her face as she rushed to open the door. The smell of smoke was in her nostrils as she stared in wide eyed shock as the kitchen wood pile blazed across the room from the stove. "Fire! Help!" cried the undercook, a middle-aged orange earth mare with all the common sense of a rolling pin, as she ran about the room uselessly. There was a splash and a profluence of steam as Cookie charged in, which cleared to reveal a damp and smudged Clementine holding the empty fire bucket, the handle between her teeth. Her bonnet was singed.
Cookie hugged her hard this time. "Oh darlin! Are you alright? Land sakes, what happened?"
The undercook, Thistlewhistle, sat on the stool and sobbed. Cookie turned to shout at her, "You useless thing! Running around like a blue arsed fly while this filly puts out the fire!"
Thistlewhistle stood up abruptly. "It wasn't me! It wasn't me! I was rolling out pastries like you told me, cook! And you set the fire in the oven yourself a half hour ago."
Cookie closed her eyes and calmed herself. "Yes, I did, and a spark must have come out the flue and landed in the kindling and set off the wood pile. But..."
The undercook shook her head, the words pouring out. "No, no, no. No spark, cook. I was watching. The pile, it just flared up by itself, there weren't no smoke or smell or nothin' from the kindling. Just the little one looking at her pots and getting her scrubbing brushes. That's," she swallowed, "I'm sorry, that's why I lost me head. It was her." She pointed at Clementine who stared back in shock.
Cookie's face darkened. "Oh that's fine, that's just fine! You just said the child was looking at her pots and collecting her brushes and nowhere near the fire! Yer daft, mare! Daft! It was not the filly's fault."
Now Thistlewhistle looked angry. "I didn't say she did nothin'! I just says it were her! She doesn't have to do nothin', things just happen around her and you know it! She's cursed!"
Cookie's anger turned to shock. I told her to set the kitchen on fire. And the kitchen caught fire. She was shaking when as she turned to look at Clementine, then steadied herself. "Darling, it isn't true. You're not cursed. And you!" She turned to face the undercook. "You keep your silly mouth shut about curses and nonsense or by the Pillars, I'll tear a strip off your hide!"
Thistlewhistle squeaked in fear and fled down the hall as Mr. Glass, a dignified black unicorn in an impeccable black waistcoat with a gray vest, appeared at the door at the landing atop the stairs that went up the kitchen wall. He was accompanied by the underbutler and two of the hoofponies who served dinner, polished the silver and performed other odd jobs upstairs. He called out down the stairs, "Cookie! The fire, is it under control?"
"Yes, Mr. Glass." She stood between Clementine and the stallions.
"And is anypony hurt?" Mr. Glass had a gravelly voice, very controlled, and managed to ask that question without expressing any undue concern.
"No, Mr. Glass." The butler nodded and turned to the other stallions, dismissing them back upstairs before descending into the kitchen.
"What happened, Cookie?" His manner was direct and businesslike.
"Mr. Glass, it must have been a spark from the flue that settled on the kindling. The undercook and me mustn't have noticed."
"Well then, who put it out so quickly? And where is the fire bucket?" He cast his eye about.
"Sir," Clementine spoke up quietly, coming around from behind cook's ample protection, and placed the bucket down in front of her. "Here's the fire bucket, sir."
"Call me Mr. Glass, child. I'm the butler, not a guest of her ladyship." He walked towards her, looking at her as though surprised to see that she actually existed. "Our foundling, Cookie?"
"Yes Mr. Glass." Cookie kept very still, hoping that the butler would stop asking questions and start issuing instructions.
"Excellent well done, miss. Ah?" He smiled at her, gesturing for her to fill in the blank.
"Clementine, s...Mister Glass." She performed a slow, wobbly curtsey, looking up gravely.
The butler's stern expression returned as he bowed with significant gravity. "The household is in your debt, Miss Clementine. Your quick action may have saved property and even lives. You are to be commended. Cookie," he said, straightening, "kindly finish breakfast and ring up to the hoofponies, then have the child scrubbed and dressed properly. I have no doubt her ladyship will want to thank our savior herself."
Clementine's eyes widened as her mouth opened wide. She'd never seen the lady of the estate. She barely knew that her name was Lady Rubymane and that only because she read her name written into some of the books she'd surreptitiously borrowed. Cookie nodded. "Yes, Mr. Glass. We'll have breakfast ready in twenty minutes." The butler nodded, turned quickly and marched up the stairs.
"L-Lady Rubymane?" Clementine felt her knees growing weak.
"No time for fainting Clemmie, we have a breakfast to serve. Go find Thistlewhistle and get back here!"
An hour later, after Lady Rubymane had finished her breakfast and she had had time to digest, one of the hoofponies came down for Cookie and Clementine, who had been scrubbed within an inch of her life and dressed in a borrowed tunic from one of the younger upstairs maids. It fit her like a roasting bag, but it was clean. They had combed her mane and tail for fifteen minutes, getting the worst of the tangles out. She wore a borrowed bonnet as well.
Cookie, in her best blouse and apron, chivvied her upstairs, telling her not to worry, curtsey when introduced, only speak when spoken to, and not to maintain eye contact when done answering her ladyship's questions. The two hurried to the landing and were ushered through the dining room into the parlor where Lady Rubymane was sitting, admiring the view from the window. She didn't turn when they entered, waiting until Mr. Glass announced, "Cookie and young Miss Clementine, my lady."
The noble unicorn turned to smile at them. She was old, near to a century by some reports, but still had an ethereal beauty. Her white coat had dulled a bit from its former sheen, her jewel-tone red mane and tail were thinning and had lost their bounce, and the green-gold eyes were surrounded by lines, but they twinkled merrily in the morning light and her teeth were straight and white, indicating good health. "Cookie," she said in a soft, musical voice, "how good of you to come see me."
The cook curtsied ponderously, "My Lady, I hope you enjoyed your breakfast."
"Excellent as always, goodmare. And this is our young firepony?" She turned to regard Clementine.
This is the pony everypony is frightened of downstairs? She's sweet and kind! "Clementine, my lady." She curtsied and for a wonder, didn't fall over.
"Thank you, Clementine, for the service you did my household. You seem very self-possessed for one so young." She turned her regard to Cookie. "And thank you, goodmare, for keeping this young one safe and training her to be a useful, quick-thinking, and brave pony."
Cookie curtsied again and, sensing her employer's mood, ventured with, "The useful took a little while, my lady, but she's always been brave and clever. I think she has her parents to thank there."
"Indeed, Cookie. Would you and Glass mind very much leaving your young charge in my care for a while? I wish to speak with her."
If Mr. Glass had any reaction, he didn't show it, but Cookie's eyes widened involuntarily.
"Don't fear Cookie, I shan't eat her. Pony is kind of, well, gamey and a bit on the dry side for me." Clementine's eyes widened and she felt nervous sweat start to build up between her shoulder blades, as both Cookie and Mr. Glass, oblivious to her impending doom, my lady'd their way out of the parlor, the butler closing the door behind him.
Alone with her now, the noble mare continued to smile in a beatific manner. "Come here, child, let me see you." She indicated the spot on the floor between her chair and the window. Clementine swallowed hard and walked, stumbling slightly, to the indicated spot. It was now easy to see how much larger the unicorn was than she, how long and sharp her horn was, that behind her kind eyes radiated a sort of... power. She's sweet and kind, remember? her inner voice prodded ironically.
Clementine noticed now that Lady Rubymane held a quill in one of her hooves, and as she studied her, she jammed it into one of her own hooves, wincing slightly. "So, my dear, where did you leave Prince Silverhoof?"
Part of her wanted to run, part of her wanted to cry, part of her wanted to apologize and beg for mercy. But she thought about what Cookie said. Speak when spoken to, and answer her questions. "My lady, h-he..." she swallowed again, "he just learned that Princess Everheart doesn't love him. At least not as much as he loves her. I think."
"Ah, in Deathworm's lair, yes." She chuckled. "How does it feel to be in the dragon's lair, my dear?"
Clementine glanced around at the parlor. Even though not the library, there were still books tucked into small cases, lovely little sculptures of dragons, ponies, griffons, and more exotic creatures she could not identify graced tables and cabinets, the furniture was carved from a variety of woods with lustrous grains, upholstered in multicolored silk and velvet. The carpet was warm and soft under her hooves. She turned her head to look out the window at the park in front of the estate; sunlight shown on the neat lawn as the shadows of the mighty oaks that lined the park shortened as the day wore on.
"My lady, I like your lair better than Deathworm's."
"And why is that?" She jabbed herself again, wincing.
"All he has is gold and gems. You have knowledge and beauty."
"Yes. And I also have my share of gold and gems, but my bed is rather more comfortable. Well?"
"Well what, my lady?"
"Aren't you curious as to how I figured out you were my little booknapper?"
"Did you see me one night, my lady?"
"Not right away. I noticed that "The Unexpected Unicorn" had gone missing, and didn't think much of it, but then two weeks later, it was back. So I searched around and saw that "Leaving Las Pegasus" was mysteriously absent. A week later it was back and something else was gone. So I determined to stay hidden in my library until I could find my fellow bibliophile ." Confusion showed in Clementine's eyes, drawing a giggle from Rubymane. "A word you don't know? It's a relief to know such a thing exists! It means a lover of books."
"It sounds foreign, my lady. In Equestrian, we'd say bookworm, wouldn't we?"
"Or egghead or something else inelegant, yes. The word is Prench. The ponies of Equestria borrow words, ideas, even entire philosophies from Prance, Germaneigh, and other countries."
"Oh, like when Cookie makes soufflés and crêpes ?" Her stomach rumbled at the thought.
Rubymane nodded in approval. "Exactly. Food is one of the most common of cultural exchanges. But we digress. I believe we were discussing how I caught the nefarious booknapper." She jabbed her hoof once more.
"Yes, my lady. My lady? Why do you keep doing that?"
"With the quill? In due time, oh impertinent questioner of her betters. Now, I lay in wait in the library, behind the ricepaper screen, for several nights. I kept myself entertained by reading, of course. I used a nightvision spell so no light would show. And I listened. And one night, I heard something, and went to look who it was. At that moment I suddenly had the urge to write a letter to my nephew asking him to visit. It's the strangest thing. I don't even like my nephew. But there am I, scribbling away, all thoughts of catching the mystery pony vanished."
She poked herself again as Clementine's mouth dropped open. "Yes, very curious. I'm usually quite focused. So I resolved to try again, and one night, I heard a noise. I peeked over my screen and I saw... I can't remember. I have a very good memory too, and at first I clearly recall having remembered, and making a plan for the morning. But I can't even remember what that plan was. At this point, I realized I was dealing with something quite unusual."
Clementine couldn't help herself, she was caught up in the tale. "What happened next!? My lady!" Her eyes were wide, the whites showing all around the iris.
"The next time, I determined to write everything down, which is how I finally trapped my elusive prey. I still don't quite remember what happened, but here are my notes, if you would care to read them." She gave the filly a piece of fine parchment upon which was written:
15 minutes past midnight - a noise - a filly, very small - kitchen garb - gray coat, yellow or tan mane - we have a scullion? Why don't I remember her?
Clementine returned the parchment, her brow furrowed in thought. "That would be me, my lady. The filly nopony notices or thinks about, except for Cookie. And Thistlewhistle, I suppose."
"The undercook? Earth ponies... yes, of course." Rubymane jabbed herself once more. "In fact, in order to engage in this conversation with you, or even think about you for any length of time, I find I must use this minor pain as a focus." She showed her hoof to Clementine and the pad was bruised and dimpled.
"Oh, my lady, I'm so sorry!" Clementine looked up at her in distress. She's going through this just to talk to me? She is kind! But this is so very strange!
"It's not your fault, Clementine. I can't be certain, but I believe you are under a glamour, cast by a very powerful, and very subtle mage."
Clementine gasped. "Like a curse!?"
Rubymane shook her head. "It's much more complicated than that. I think it's meant to protect you, not harm you, but protect you from what or who, that I cannot say. I can't see the spell, or the web of spells, myself. I can only deduce its existence through the effects I'm observing." Clementine tilted her head curiously. "To deduce means to infer something that you cannot directly observe through reasoning and indirect observation."
Rubymane could almost see the gears turning in the child's head. "So, could I deduce that you aren't going to dismiss me for borrowing your books, my lady, because you're smiling and being kind to me?"
"Yes, though perhaps it is only that I am very curious as to what the nature of this glamour is, not that I am so kind."
"Sort of like how perhaps Deathworm is only playing a game with Prince Silverhoof and he's not really trying to help him? My lady?"
She smiled enigmatically. "Us old dragons are tricky like that. You can never be sure." A thought seemed to cross her mind. "Child, I would like to take a clipping of your mane, to examine it. Perhaps if I hold something of you close to me, I can stop this infernal jabbing of my hoof."
Clementie hastened to comply, removing her cap and bowing her head close to Rubymane. A silvery glow shone from the old unicorn's horn as a small pair of scissors arose from a nearby table, and quickly snipped a lock of hair from the sandy, coarse and still somewhat tangled mane. She teased them out of their kinks and knots and beheld a dozen straggly strands. Using magic, she wound them twice around her foreleg and tied them off.
"There! Now let us see if this works. I am going to look at you. If I start to look away or get up, I need you to jab my hoof with the quill. Here, just one moment." She wrote on a slip of parchment and gave it to Clementine.
I told Clementine to jab my hoof; don't punish her.
Clementine nodded and took the proffered quill. Then she stood still while as Rubymane regarded her, taking in every small detail of her appearance. "It seems the quill will not be necessary, thank Celestia!" The unicorn shook her hoof out and kneaded it with the opposite. "I don't feel my gaze sliding off of you any more and I remember your name and our conversation so far quite clearly. Better than I recalled it a few minutes ago. I'd say the sympathetic link is effective when attempting to focus on you, but possibly only because you willingly parted with the token." She held up the knotted hair.
"I'm afraid I don't understand any of that, my lady."
"I wouldn't expect you to, since you've been borrowing books about adventures and romance, not about magical theory and spellcraft. We shall have to continue our conversation later though, for my unfortunate fat nephew will be arriving within the hour, thanks to you, and I must dress and prepare to receive him. But we shall have to see to your reward, shall we not? Very well." She stood. "Now, do not tell anypony about what we've said or I shall keep you in durance vile until your cuteceañera. Especially about the glamour. Do I make myself clear?"
She spoke those last sentences with such authority that Clementine curtsied without thinking about it. "Yes, my lady."
Rubymane concentrated her magic on the bellpull, but hesitated before pulling it. "Child, the fire in the kitchen... what happened exactly?"
"It was like Cookie said, my lady. It must have been a spark."
"Did you see a spark?"
"No, my lady."
"What were you doing when the fire broke out?" She turned and looked closely at the filly.
"I was... I was just looking at the pile of pots and pans, my lady, and soaping up my brushes."
"What were you thinking of while you did that?" Clementine was silent for a moment. "Come on, you won't be in trouble."
"My lady, I was thinking how much easier it would be if I could just use magic like all the other unicorns. I was thinking how unfair it was. And I was... I was angry."
Rubymane nodded. "Well then. Do your best to not be angry when you are around my books."
"But I love books, my lady, I'd never - Oh! Do you think..."
"I don't know what to think, Clementine. But I had Mr. Glass check our records, and there have been more unexplained minor accidents downstairs in the kitchen in the past six months than in the previous three years. There may be more to this glamour than just obfuscation. It has layers." She rang the pull.
Mr. Glass entered, along with Cookie. He bowed and she curtsied. "Cookie, I'm afraid you will need another scullery maid." Cookie's face fell, causing Lady Rubymane to raise her hoof. "No, no, it's alright. Clementine will be working upstairs with us." Cookie's face went from despair to bewilderment. "She's a clever filly, efficient, hard working, and quite unobtrusive. Good qualities for an upstairs maid; wouldn't you agree Glass?"
"Indeed, my lady. I barely know she's there as it is."
The noble covered an involuntary grin with her hoof and coughed lightly. "And I shall need some water presently. But have her given a uniform and assign her to one of the other maids to learn her new duties. That purple earth pony should do nicely."
"But my lady, not that she would not be an excellent maid, but we have no position open for her." Mr. Glass appeared as close to being perturbed as he could. A hair of his mane might even have been out of place.
"Then she shall be my maid of... the library! Yes. Maid of the library."
Mr. Glass' bushy brows rose, almost perceptibly. "Maid of the library? My lady, there is no protocol for a maid of the library."
"Then we shall have to create one. Won't that be fun, Glass?"
Bewilderment peeked out from behind the baffled butler's features. "As you say, my lady. It will be... fun."
Rubymane turned to the poleaxed cook. "Cookie, she shall still stay with you and you will see to her wellbeing, at least until she's of age to care for herself and can move to the maid's quarters. You are as near to a mother to her as any could be, and I should not want her separations from you to be long. And I shall need you to find another scullion."
Cookie blinked to clear her head, then curtsied. "As you wish, my lady, and thank you."
With a last smile and a hidden wink at Clementine, Lady Rubymane resumed her seat. "Thank you. You may go about your duties. Please do send a hoofpony with the water, and I would like to see your draft for the protocols for maid of the library on my desk tomorrow morning, Glass. And I should like to be dressed to receive Nephew Goldbolt within the hour." She turned to regard the scene outside the window as the three either bowed or curtsied, and exited the room.
She touched her foreleg where the lock of hair was knotted and thought of Clementine. She glanced down at it and was surprised to see that the hair was thick, luxurious and luminously golden. How interesting!
Prince Silverhoof looked down at the brass key that lay inert on the ground. He then looked up at the cage, cursed annamannatite to deepest Tatarus, and turned to Deathworm. "Listen old fellow, I can't use my magic to levitate the key to the lock, because the nullification field is at least three feet out from it, and when I get to close to the cage myself, I can feel myself passing out. So I have an idea."
The dragon raised his eyebrows and rested his forlegs on his elbows, propping up his chin up on the heels of his claws. "This is going to be good."
"I'll just nip down to the village and fetch an earth pony to open the cage. Or maybe a pegasus. I'll be right back!"
Dragons aren't technically capable of delivering a proper hairy eyeball, but a scaly eyeball can be just as effective, particularly in a dark cave. "So, you're going to just go down to the village and hire a farmhand to come to the dragon's cave, walk past all the mountains of gold and gems, say hello to the dragon who has been looting the countryside and raiding all the farms in the area for the last century, and turn the key for you. Then we'll all have tea?" He raised his claw, pinkie talon extended with all due etiquette.
The prince rubbed his chin. "Perhaps with sufficient financial persuasion..."
"And say you do find your enterprising young stallion, and bribe him sufficiently. Will you then guide him up the winding passage from the foot of the mountain, through the hidden ways, and then he performs his service and returns to his farm? He will of course not return with a battalion of armored earth ponies with crossbows, bent on vengeance and loot."
"But you've taken my word of honor that I would not return or betray you." The prince scuffed his hoof on the rough floor of the cave.
"You are a prince, and your word of honor is sacred to you. The same could not be said of the peasantry at large."
Clementine scowled at the paragraph before her. Just get a long iron rod and weld the key to the end of it!
The prince stamped around the cave. "Surely there must be some way of getting an earth pony here without them learning the way up the mountain!"
Deathworm looked thoughtful and nodded. "There is. Give me a few minutes." Without waiting for a reply, the mighty wings unfolded and the dragon was unwinding upward. The first beat of his mighty wings scattered gold and gems into the air and nearly knocked Silverhoof over, as his sinuous black coils drove up powerfully through the air to the roof of the cave, where a patch of light showed through the gloom. He compacted himself and dove through the opening, leaving Silverhoof below, brushing gold dust and fragments of gems from his mane, coat and the frills of his floofy white shirt.
Having nothing else to do, the prince practiced his fencing forms for perhaps a half hour, until he heard the sounds of wings from the rooftop. The dragon entered the cavern at speed, a red dun mare clutched in his talons, shrieking in protest.
Clementine shook her head. The iron rod would have been easier.
Deathworm hovered before the prince and dropped the screaming earth pony in front of him. She landed in an undignified heap, the cave ringing at the scattering of gold pieces. She stood and shook herself off, shouting words unfamiliar to Silverhoof, but based on their volume and tone, he assumed she was swearing.
"TARNATION! HORSEAPPLES! SUGAR-SUCKING FRUITBATS! How DARE you, you scaly, black, hornswaggling son of a MUD SNAKE!" She shook her hoof at the bemused Deathworm and turned to face Silverhoof. "And who the hay are you!?" A wavy tawny mane framed a face that would be most pleasant if it were not purpled in outrage.
He smiled his most charming smile. "Goodmare, I am Prince Silverhoof," he bowed elegantly, making a handsome leg, "and it is my pleas-"
"Can it, Silverpoof!" Green eyes flashed with anger. "Can't you see that there dragon is a gonna eat us? Why ain'tcha usin' that fancy sword of yours?"
"Well you see, he doesn't really like to eat pony. We're kind of, well, gamey and a bit on the dry side for him." She turned her head and looked up at the dragon, who nodded in response.
"So wait, you two are friends!? What the hay kind of prince are you, anyway?"
"Oh, I'm sure you'll see," chimed in the dragon with a bass rumble.
Silverhoof cleared his throat. "As I was saying, goodmare, I require a service of you, for which you will be appropriately compensated."
Her eyes bulged. "You sent your dragon out to ponynap me?!"
Deathworm coughed. "I am not HIS dragon. I am my own dragon, thank you very much."
The prince shifted his weight backwards. "Well, not exactly, you see..."
"Oh! I see alright! And how is this mere peasant commanded to serve yer high and mightiness?" Her green eyes blazed with injured dignity. "Do ya need yer delicate hooves polished?"
He glanced at his hooves. "Do you think they need it?"
She glanced up at the dragon, who rumbled, "Told you."
She turned her furious gaze back on the unicorn, who continued, "You have the privilege to be of important service to her Most Regal Majesty, Princess Everheart, for only with the aid of an earth pony, may she be freed from her imprisonment."
The mare glanced over at the prison and saw the alicorn lying within. Her breathing slowed and her scowl was gradually replaced with a grin.
"A alicorn princess? A alicorn princess! Well, well, well! If that don't beat all!" She was smiling broadly, practically beaming at Silverhoof. "Why jest this mornin', ah was sayin' t' mahself how much ah wished ah could help me a alicorn princess. Ya see, it was four in the A of the M, and ah got up to tend my flock like ah do every mornin' at four in the A of the M, an' ah was figgerin' about how much of mah sheep's wool ah was going to have t' take t' market t' be able t' pay mah taxes, and I was a-thinkin' maybe if ah was careful, ah might be able t' get me a new hat with what was left over after the taxes, an' the food for the month, an' the taxes on the food for the month, an' the new water bucket ah need, an' the taxes on the new water bucket ah need, but then ah realized there'd be taxes on the hat, so I'd just have ta wait fer next month."
She paused for breath, then continued with relish, "An' like said, ah was a-hopin' that there'd be some way ah could thank a alicorn princess fer all that the government has done fer me, like keepin' them pesky rustlers from stealin' mah sheep no more'n two or three times a month, an' fer buildin' such ha quality roads with them nice deep ruts and the extra-thick mud at the bottom, fer makin' sure that dragons ain't makin' no trouble for me," she glanced upward at Deathworm who smiled and nodded politely, "an' most 'specially fer seein' to it that mah coin purse don't never get too heavy and throw mah hip out."
The Prince smiled brightly. "Excellent! Then just take this key and open the door to the annamannatite alloy cage that drains unicorn and alicorn magic, and drag the princess away from it!"
She took the proffered key, and looked it over. "So, y'all need me t' open th' door, 'cause unicorns an' alicorns an' acorns and all them fellers get all their magic drained away by this here annabanana stuff? Why can't the dragon do it?" Deathworm waggled his immense talons at her. "Oh, ah see." She turned, tossed the key over her shoulder, and with a mighty buck of her rear legs, kicked the key straight into the pile of treasure, where it disappeared under an avalanche of gold and gems. "OOOPS! AH DROPPED IT!"
Silverhoof stared at the pile of treasure in stunned horror while the dragon chuckled like a pot that was boiling over. "Oh, I LIKE her! She has SPUNK!"
Clementine had reached the end of the chapter, and closed the book after marking her place with a slip of paper. In the past week, she had been fitted for a fine new uniform, shown how to fix her mane properly so that it stayed under her cap, for the most part, how to tie her unruly tail into a passable bun, and been shown the basics of upstairs service. She was shadowing the only other earth mare maid, a young, plum-colored pony with a white diamond marking on her face between her eyes named Gooseberry.
Clementine followed Goosberry around and dusted, folded, changed linens, swept, mopped and cleaned fireplaces alongside her, and did most of the dirtiest work. Gooseberry called her "scut pony" and "pot filly" and was sure to point out every spot of soot left uncleaned and bed linen not perfectly aligned. When she found her work acceptable, she did so only in grudging terms. It was not the sort of treatment Clementine was used to; Cookie worked her hard and pointed out her mistakes, but when she did well we was rewarded with a compliment and sometimes a sweet. She was used to little or no regard from anypony other than cook and the undercook, and received none from the rest of the staff, all of whom were unicorns. That's the glamor, she thought. They aren't snobs. Gooseberry, on the other hoof, seemed all too aware of the unicorn filly.
Her reprieve arrived every day after lunch, when she attended Lady Rubymane in her library. She would fetch her books and fluff her pillow and serve tea and little cakes, and when her ladyship's eyes grew tired, she would read to her. The lady of the manor did not receive guests in the library and none of the other staff would dare interrupt, save for Mr. Glass to announce an unexpected visitor or to report some other urgent matter. When Lady Rubymane did not require her immediate attendance in the library, she was to dust, periodically check the books for silverfish and other vermin, ensure that the oil lamps were topped off, and when all else was done, she was to sit and wait in a small room next to the library, which was equipped with a wooden chair with a soft cushion and a desk, both suited for her smallish stature, and an oil lamp of her own. She conjectured that these were used years ago by Lady Rubymane's children and had been kept in the attic.
In the desk drawers, she had found deposited a baker's dozen of books, with "The Silly Prince" on top of the stack in the top drawer. The other books appeared to be of a more scholarly nature, including the massive "Historia Coram Reginae," blessedly translated from the original Old Ponish, which had a drawer to itself, a grammar, a mathematics primer, an atlas of the known world, a bestiary, a book on rhetoric and another on logic, a book titled "Anatomia Equorum, Gryphes et ceterorum" which was not translated from Old Ponish but which was extensively illustrated with anatomical drawings, and a primer for Old Ponish, an old, ink-blotted book on penponyship, a dictionary, a thesaurus, several empty notebooks, a set of quills, a quill knife, and ink. This trove of knowledge took her breath away and brought tears to her eyes, but it also filled her with trepidation. I have so much to learn!
Within the novel she found a note from her benefactor.
I will always encourage you to read for pleasure, Clementine, but I believe it is my duty to ensure that you also read to better yourself and prepare yourself for whatever your life may become. You may read one chapter of a novel every day if you have the time, but when you are not attending me, learning your duties as an upstairs maid, assisting the other staff or spending time which Cookie, whom you must not neglect, I insist that you spend your time in study. I will periodically quiz you, as it suits my whim. - R
The service bell rang and Clementine at once opened the center drawer of the desk, placed the novel within, and closed it, then stood and quickly walked out of the nook, around the bookcase that screened it from the main part of the library, and onto the richly decorated silk rug at the center of the room. She curtsied and bowed her head, appreciating the fine knotwork shown in the medallion patterns before her, the brilliant, dominant red against the tan background, with robin's egg blue, gold, and almost secretly hidden hints of green cleverly combining to both please and trick the eye. "My lady?" she asked, as she reached the nadir of her curtsy.
"Thank you, Clementine, please come here and tell me what you see out in the garden." Lady Rubymane was sitting in her comfortable if not entirely stylish overstuffed chair, gesturing at the bay window.
The maid hastened to the window and peered out into the afternoon. It was springtime and there were gardeners about, with wheelbarrows, shovels, mattocks, watering cans and pruning hooks, but at the moment there was only one visible. The pale yellow colt, not much older that she, but considerably larger, with a jet black mane and tail, was planting something in a border in front of a copse of round bushes with deep green, elongated oval leaves. "I see one of the gardeners, my lady. He's planting something next to those big bushes."
"Can you tell what they are?" She squinted.
"What he's planting, or the bushes, my lady?"
"What he's planting, child. I know those are my Rhododendrons."
"Yes, my lady. I mean, no my lady, I can't tell. All I can see is he's digging."
"Rhododendrons are allelopathic. He can put an annual border there, but if those are perennials, they'll die in the fall. Rhododendrons make poor neighbors; their leaves are poisonous to other plants when they drop. Be a good filly and run out and set him straight, would you?"
"Right away, my lady." She curtsied and headed for the storage room filled with disused furniture, which Mr. Glass curiously referred to as the lumber room, where a door leading out to the garden was located. She passed through, closing the door behind her, and trotted towards the gardener. The air was warm and the sun shone down on her and she was sweating a bit after only a hundred yards when she reached the colt.
He stopped digging, grounded his shovel and looked at her, glancing at her uniform and her horn. "Ello, miss." Close up, she could see that he was heavyset with broad shoulders and a jaw that was already square despite his youth. He was sweaty and covered with dirt and smelled like manure, which he probably was working with. But his blue eyes were friendly.
"Hello, ah, master gardener." She knew not to curtsy to him, but it never hurt to be polite, so she'd been taught by Cookie. "My name is Clementine, what is yours?"
His face split with a smile. "Look a' that, a fine mare from the big 'ouse askin' me name." A fine mare? Where? "The name's Bumblebee, miss Clementine."
"Well it's nice to meet you. What are you planting here?" She gestured at the holes that he was digging beneath the rhododendrons.
"I dunno. Flowers I guess. They're in the cart." He gestured with his head to a low wooden wagon upon which a few dozen pots in which small seedlings grew. They had long, oval, pale green leaves but as yet were low and were not flowering.
Clementine shook her head. "I don't know what they are either. Are they penny - I mean, per-en-ni-als?" She sounded the word out slowly. "Perennials? That's it."
Bumblebee shrugged. "I don't even know what that means."
"Really?" She glared at him. "What kind of gardener are you?"
He sighed and looked at the ground. "A bad one. Actually," he looked around and then looked her square in the eye, "I ain't supposed to be here. My big sister Pansy Peas is one of the under-gardeners, but she's been home sick at the cottage for the past few days and we need the bits, so I came in her place. Please don't tell nopony."
"Anypony," she instantly corrected. "And you're in the soup anyway. You know who's watching us from the window over there?"
He peered at the window but could see nothing. "I dunno. Pansy says nopony don't pay not mind to gardeners, no-how."
Clementine winced as she tried to parse out the stream of double-negatives. She glared at him and replied in an irritated manner, "Pansy says nopony pays any mind to gardeners, anyhow."
Bumblebee looked at her in puzzlement. "You know Pansy? Anyways, she don't talk fancy like that. Nopony but you unicorns talk all high-falutin' like that."
"I'm just trying to help you with your atrocious grammar, Bumblebee." Is he right? Am I high-falutin?
"Hey! You leave mah granma out of this!" His color deepened and his expression darkened. She stifled a laugh; while he was just a colt, he was a big one, easily twice as heavy as she was. If he got sufficiently angry, he could hurt her badly and she had no way to defend herself with her useless horn, unless she managed to poke him in the eye.
She composed herself and assumed a contrite posture. "I'm sorry, Bumblebee. I meant no offense; I'm sure your grandmother is wonderful."
That seemed to mollify him. "Well, OK then. So just what kind of trouble am I in now?"
Oh, that's right! "Lady Rubymane observed you from her library window and noted that you were digging near her Rho..." she paused and collected her thoughts, "Rhododendrons, which are alleopathic," she recited. "Annuals may be planted near them, but when they drop their leaves in the fall, any perennials planted nearby will be poisoned. So you see, we must determine if these are perennials or annuals."
As she spoke, his insouciance evaporated. Be the time she finished speaking, he was on the verge of tears. "Oh Celestia, no! I've gone and put my hoof in the manure this time!" Tears started running down his face and his voice grew panicky. "The lady done seen me and I ain't supposed to be here and now you're here and even if you wanted to you can't help me! She'll see I don't know nothin' about gardenin' and she's a gonna send me home or worse and we won't be able to buy food and maybe she'll be so mad she'll throw us outta the cottage!"
Clementine stared as the bulky colt collapsed in front of her, sobbing his eyes out. "Oh no! She's not like that!" An idea struck her. "Hey! I can go and look up the plant in a botany book! No wait, she's in the library." She paced, formulating a plan. "We'll go ask one of the other gardeners, they'll know! Just stop crying! You're being a baby!"
There was a flash of light behind her, a pop, and a rush of air. She whirled and saw Lady Rubymane standing a few feet behind her and her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. She had read about teleportation spells in some of her novels, but had assumed they were fictional. "My lady!" She remembered to curtsy, though she wasn't sure if the servants' protocols she had studied covered responding to the lady of the house teleporting into the garden. When in doubt, curtsy and say, "My lady."
"Clementine!" There was heat in her voice. "What has happened? I sent you here to inquire about the nature of the planting, not abuse my undergardener!" She turned and looked at Bumblebee, who was now frozen in sheer terror, standing but bowing low, his eyes to the ground, shaking. "And you! Wait, who are you? Are you new?"
"My lady, this is Bumblebee. He's Pansy Peas' little brother, begging my lady's pardon." She had never seen Lady Rubymane upset before, but she'd only actually met her a week ago,.
The unicorn looked at her sharply. "We're not in private now, Clementine. You will speak only when spoken to. Is that clear?" She wasn't angry, but she was stern. The effect was immediate and Clementine felt like she physically shrunk as she curtsied and kept her head downcast. "Yes, my lady," she said quietly.
She turned back to the yellow colt. "Calm down, youngling! I'm not going to hurt you!" Bulbee's teary cornflower eyes peeked out from under the shock of black mane and he swallowed loudly. "Pansy Pea... she's pink with a curly blonde mane, isn't she?"
"Y-yes m'lady. That's her," Bumblebee quavered.
"Where is she, Bumblebee?"
He seemed resigned to his fate. "Oh, m'lady, I'm sorry. I ain't supposed to be here, m'lady, I ain't no gardener."
"I gathered as much. Now tell me where your sister is." Her tone was one of mild impatience.
"Back at the cottage, m'lady. She's home sick and I come to do her work. We need the coin, m'lady. Please don't throw us out!"
"Throw you out? Of your home? The very idea! How long has she been sick?"
"Two days, m'lady."
"But she gets five sick days a year. She'd just have to let the head gardener know she's ill and he'd still pay her for the day."
"M'lady? Is that how it's supposed to work?"
Lady Rubymane raised her hoof to her face and frowned, covering her eyes. "It appears I shall be having a discussion with the head gardener." She lowered her hoof and sighed. "Just how sick is Pansy?"
Bumblebee looked down and scuffed his hood. "Oh, she say's it's nothin' to worry about, m'lady. She'll be back on her hooves soon enough."
"So, you're not worried about her?" The aristocrat raised an eyebrow.
The colt paused before responding and swallowed. "I am worried, m'lady. I think she's awful sick, but she don't wanna scare me."
"Tell me about her illness." Her voice was soft, but firm.
"M'lady, she started with a headache three days ago, and she was saying how she ached all over. Then yesterday morning when I woke up, she had chills and asked me to go to Digger Greenleaf and see if I could cover for her. When I got back she was still sick and said her muscles was real stiff, m'lady. This morning she wasn't no better. And..." he paused.
"And what?" There was a tone of mild alarm in Rubymane's voice.
"And she told me not to worry 'cause ma was gonna take care of her."
"So, your mother is..."
"Our ma is dead, m'lady. Her and pa died two years ago in the flash flood." Clementine gasped involuntarily. She vaguely remembered several days where she was not permitted to go outside to due to the extremity of the spring rains.
The unicorn's mouth set in a hard line. "Do you feel any chills? Aches?"
"No, m'lady. Is my sister going to be alright?" Fear congealed like a cold, hard lump in his stomach and it showed on his face.
Her face softened. "I'm sorry, but I honestly don't know, child. I'll do everything in my power to see that she is." She turned to Clementine. "Take Bumblebee into the house through the kitchen door and ask Cookie to see to it that he's cleaned up. Then go to the library and fetch Medicus Antiquorum's 'Morbos Curationesque Equorum.' Then collect him and meet me by the back gate; I'll have the carriage brought up. Oh, and bring two sets of clean sheets, an iron pot for boiling water, and some towels. And hurry." She vanished in a flash of power.
Clementine turned to face Bumblebee, who's eyes were welling up again. "Come on, you can cry in the carriage. We have to hurry!" Her own heart was racing and she put her hoof out to touch his shoulder. He seemed to take strength from the gesture, wiped the back of his fetlock across his grimy face, and took off at a gallop for the house.
She chased after him, catching up halfway to the residence as he paused, not knowing where the kitchen door was. "Here, to the left. Follow me." They went around to the back of the great house, down a straight but narrow paved path to the portal where kitchen deliveries were made. It was left unlocked during the day, so she opened the door and entered a corridor that led into the kitchen, where Cookie was upbraiding Thistlewhistle and the new scullion, a coal black earth filly named Peppercorn, about their slowness in cleaning up after lunch. She turned upon seeing Clementine and smiled, then scowled as Bumblebee entered behind her.
"What are you doin', silly filly, bringing that dirty colt into my clean kitchen?"
"Sorry Cookie, her ladyship wants you to get him cleaned up as quick as you can, and please be sweet to him, his sister is awfully sick. I have to run and get some things!" She sprinted past the flabbergasted kitchen servants and ran up the stairs as the cook's face softened, looking at Bumblebee.
Clementine quickly collected the sheets and towels from a linen closet and put them into a basket at the top of the stairs, then trotted to the library to grab the medical book. It was a thick tome, up on the third shelf of one of the taller bookcases, so she pushed a rolling stepladder that was discreetly kept in a corner to the base of the bookcase, pausing to move one of the firebuckets that Rubymane had recently placed in every room.
She reached up with both hooves and dragged at the volume; it was surprisingly heavy, so she pulled harder, putting her back into it. It slid out, but in her pulling, she had overbalanced and fell backwards, the heavy book atop her. The ornate plaster medallion in the center of the tray ceiling was eclipsed by the bulk of the massive, ancient book in her vision as she plunged towards the floor. Clumsy! Oh Celestia, help me!
While it was not unusual for ponies to cry out to the goddess-monarch of Equestria, few actually imagined Celestia would come to their aid, unless she happened to be in the room at the time. After establishing herself as the supreme power in Equestria upon banishing her deranged sister Luna to the moon five hundred years ago, she was no doubt quite busy maintaining the orbits of the planets and moons, ensuring the sun rose and set as appropriate to the seasons, and defending her borders from other nations. Clementine fully expected to be seriously injured.
As the back of her head struck the ornate rug and the book slammed into her face, she felt no pain. Instead, she felt heat, an odd pressure, and a sense that time was slowing. Her head seemed to sink into the rug and the hard wooden floor underneath as if it were a down pillow. The book flowed down the sides of her face, and she heard what sounded like a deep, distant bell sounding. Her ears popped. In an instant though, reality reasserted itself and the book sprang back into solidity, rebounding upwards to land on her stomach, with sufficient momentum to knock the wind out of her.
She lay on the floor for a minute, feeling that she could not exhale, panic building as she wrapped her forelegs around her belly, tears welling up in her eyes as flashes of light filled her vision. Her lungs burned, but then her spasming diaphragm relaxed and she was able to exhale, then quickly inhale a shallow, shuddering, delicious breath. She took progressively deeper breaths as the stars before her eyes subsided. Within a minute, she was left with a headache and abdominal pain that were manageable, and so she collected herself and rose to her hooves. Thank you, Celestia! She slowly bent to pick up the heavy book, failing to notice that the fibers of the rug were now aligned in a radial pattern, their focus being where her head had struck, or rather sunk into, the floor.
The book was massive, but she was able to managed to carry it to the basket. Then, with great effort she was able to drag the basket down the kitchen stairs, reaching the bottom just as Cookie came in with the still damp Bumblebee. "Come on, help me with this, Bumblebee!" He nodded to Cookie who patted his head and smiled kindly at him then grabbed the basket between his teeth and picked it up, following Clementine out the door again. She led him through the herb garden to the back gate, the smell of rosemary filling her nostrils. She loved the thick, resinous aroma, how it stuck to your hooves when you prepared it, and especially how it tasted when baked into bread.
A tall, wrought iron fence enclosed the house and gardens, and the back gate was kept open during the day to allow deliveries from the farms around the village. As she reached the gate, she hesitated. I've never left the house grounds before! At least not since I was found by Cookie! She blinked at the sudden realization that she was going on what she could only consider an adventure; a visit to a new place, on an urgent mission. Stop it, this is serious! She felt ashamed of her excitement, looking at the forlorn colt. "Now don't you worry, Bumblebee. Lady Rubymane is the kindest and wisest of ponies. I'm sure she'll..."
She paused as a wagonette came down the path, pulled by two sturdy earth pony coach stallions, one chestnut and the other a dappled grey, silent and with their eyes kept to the front, in deference to her ladyship. There were four seats on the plain black four-wheeled vehicle, two facing forward and two back so that four could easily make conversation. Rubymane sat in the rear right seat wearing a dark brown cloak, plain but of a very fine weave. A broad-brimmed hat of similar color and quality was set upon her head, tilted back to rest upon her horn, the ensemble completed by a veil that served to obscure both her horn and her features.
Silver-white light glowed, illuminating the unicorn's face under the brim of the hat, sparkling through the gauze of the veil; the effect was mysterious and somewhat dazzling. The basket with sheets, towels and book rose, stopped briefly, and then rose again after glowing somewhat brighter. "Come children, we must make haste." "Morbos Curationesque Equorum" glowed and was lifted into the noble's lap as the filly and colt scrambled up the iron step attached to the side of the bed of the wagon, then sat across from Rubymane. Seeing they were seated, she pitched her voice to the coach ponies, "Gentlecolts, to the village please, your best safe speed."
The stallions acknowledged with twinned m'lady's in deep voices, and the wagon started forward, gathering speed until they were moving along faster than most ponies could run, the wagon swaying and bumping on its springs. "Clementine," said Rubymane, "I had forgotten how heavy 'Morbos' was. I hope it didn't give you any trouble."
"My lady," Clementine replied with a sidelong glance at Bumblebee, "I remain whole, despite the book's best efforts." Whether Rubymane cocked an eyebrow or gave her a questioning glance in return, she could not see. The veil rendered her inscrutable.
"My dear, this is the first time you have gone into the village, is it not?" The filly nodded as Bumblee rocked with the motion of their passage, momentarily distracted from his worry by the spectacle of pine, maple, oak and cypress whipping past on both sides. "I haven't been there myself in nearly ten years. I'm traveling incognito because we have no time for the alderponies to make a fuss. Prepare yourself dear, it is quite different from the house."
"Yes, my lady." She thought of the novels she had read, and their varied descriptions of villages. She scolded herself for it, but could not help but be excited by the thought of novelty. A small smile escaped, and she turned her head so that Bumblebee might not see it. This was a serious mission, after all. A mission!
Author's Note
I changed the convention for the story-within-a-story to use indentation rather than italics. I don't want to italicize my readers to distraction. If any~~pony~~one knows how to indent right as well, I'd appreciate if you'd let me know.
Added: Thanks, Goldenwing, for saying "Use a quotebox, what the heck are you doing?"
I hope you all are enjoying reading this half as much as I am enjoying the writing of it. Thank you!
Foreword
When considering the physiology of ponies, one must recall that there are no less than five and perhaps six known species, three of which are considered subspecies and two (or three) of which are considered distinct species, for reasons that will be explained. The genus Equus , species caballus , is divided into the subspecies E. magum, E. messis, and E. volantes , familiarly referred to as unicorn, earth pony and pegasus. Two other species are known at of this writing, those being E. quagga and E. asinus, commonly called the zebra and donkey, respectively. A third species, arguably of Equus , is considered to be a point of taxonomical contention due the process of magica mutare, which is believed to be the origin of E. gryphonum , known as the hippogriff.
The ancestral hippogriff is widely believed to have resulted from the pairing of E. volantes and Gryphonis gryphonum , the griffon. As griffons and ponies are not known to be able to produce offspring, much less fertile offspring, they are thought by most natural philosophers to be two distinct genera. It is considered likely that a magical phenomenon, either one of the powerful latent spells sometimes found in nature or possibly the design of a particularly mighty mage, was involved in the conception.
The reason many scholars consider E. gryphonum rather than G. equus or a new genus to be the correct taxonomic designation is due to the nature of hippogriff society, which is highly gregarious, similar in the nature of other species of Equus , as opposed to solitary and contentious, in the mode of Gryphonis . There are reasons, explained later, to suspect that E. gryphonum is simultaneously of Equus and Gryphonis , adding considerably to the difficulties of those seeking systemic classification.
This ancient work is specific to the anatomical features of ponies, griffons, hippogriffs and certain other minor, rare species, such as E. ventum , and references pony-like cryptids which may or may not be apocryphal, such as the enormous arabico , the legendary cristallinus , and the fearsome vampyrus , or may be unique sports, such as the historical but horrible E. draconis and the undeniable but mysterious, and apparently immortal E. princeps . It is not a book on the general classification of all creatures, so a short review of the principles of modern taxonomy is in order within this foreword.
Without going into exhaustive detail, and since we are primarily discussing only members of the genus Equus , a genus is considered to be a group of creatures who are anatomically similar to one another. A species is classified under a genus as a group of creatures considered to be even more anatomically similar. Family, order and other taxonomic groupings exist above genus, but these are not important to understanding the subject matter herein. Members of the same species can generally mate and produce fertile offspring. Members of different species but of the same genus can often produce hybrid offspring, examples of such being E. mulus and the rare E. zeponus , but these are almost always sterile, only very rarely being able to breed true. A subspecies is significantly dissimilar from other subspecies, but can generally mate and produce fertile offspring with members of other subspecies under the same species. The mechanism responsible for these observed patterns is not known, but it is believed to be universally related to the combination of the life essences contributed by both sire and dam to their offspring, regardless of species, that also relates to other attributes that such as eye, mane and coat color, size, features and even ponynality.
Some scholars reject the designation E. messis and refer to earth ponies as E. caballus , considering E. magum and E. volantes to be subspecies. Understandably, this is a cause of no small contention among a scholastic community consisting almost entirely of unicorns. The main arguments in favor are the relative rarity of unicorns and pegasi compared to earth ponies, and that the earth pony body physically appears to be the most basic form, of which unicorns and pegasi are more specialized forms. The more scholarly objections to this include an intriguing argument that unicorns are the root species, as the proliferation of species, and in particular magically endowed species, required magical catalysts for the process of magica mutare. Proponents of this theory suggest that unicorns deliberately created earth ponies and pegasi for the purposes of endurance and flight, for reasons that are lost to history.
A less speculative objection is founded in the fact that rarely, earth pony pairs may produce unicorn or pegasus offspring, unicorn pairs produce earth ponies or pegasus offspring, and pegasus pairs produce unicorn or earth pony offspring. This could indicate that there is a common ancestral species. The farfetched theory that E. princeps is actually the ancestral species and that all modern pony types are lesser descendents of a race of ancient alicorns (of whom there are only two surviving individuals) is periodically brought up at philosophical symposia, but usually only after the consumption of much cider, as this could be considered seditious.
The point of contention regarding E. gryphonum's designation as a distinct species, or subspecies, or even their genus classification, is based on the fact that they can breed true with both E. volantes and G. gryphonum , but the offspring are always E. gryphonum . It is considered likely that the magica mutare that created the species is still active within the bodies of the hippogriffs themselves, leading to speculation that they may have inherent transformational powers that are, as yet, untapped, or at least unrecorded.
As regards the idea of including E. princeps as a subspecies under E. caballus , there are no records of the descendents of any alicorn from which to determine patterns of inheritance. The scholarly community is not aware of any attempts at mating, except for what most consider to be tall tales, which also tend to involve a great deal of cider. Had a sufficient number of verified attempts without offspring been available to serve as reliable sample for analysis, a case could be made that E. princeps is a sterile hybrid. And while it has been suggested, it is thought that simply asking the only available pony who might have direct knowledge of alicorn procreation would a matter of exceeding delicacy, for which scholars are not well suited.
Excerpt from the foreword to"Anatomia Equorum, Gryphes et ceterorum ,
The wagonette jolted as it passed over a pothole in the road, causing both Clementine and Bumblebee to lift out of their seats, landing with a solid thump. Lady Rubymane, being a full grown unicorn weighted down by the medical tome, held her seat, scarcely noticing. She was engrossed in her study. She had pulled the veil forward so it still covered her face but the glow of her levitation spell shimmered through it. She's not going to fool anypony with that getup if she keeps casting!
They started to pass some farms and the coach ponies slowed down to a trot, so they'd be able to stop if somepony crossed in front of them, now that they were entering a populated area. A half dozen earth ponies were now visible, plowing, tilling, and planting, one bespectacled old pale blue mare scrubbing clothes on a washboard and dunking them into a soapy bucket. They all looked up briefly at their passage, but then resumed their tasks, ignoring the group. She felt color rising to her cheeks. That's rude! I could see them ignoring me, of course, but they must know this is her... oh! She sheepishly remembered a scene from one of her adventure novels. Incognito. Even if they recognize her, they'll act like they don't.
She decided she would spend some time looking over the farms. She had read about farms, or rather, read novelist's descriptions of farms, but her first-hoof knowledge of farming was limited to the produce and dairy products that were delivered to the kitchen. She observed a herd of a half dozen cows chewing their cud contentedly, placidly converting grass into milk, butter and fertilizer for their owners. A barn that had once been painted red but was now badly weathered stood behind them, gaps showing between slats that had fallen away. On the other side they passed a well; the winch mechanism had broken off and was lying on the ground and a colt was raising a bucket from it hoof-over-hoof. The next farmhouse they passed by stood empty, weeds growing in the fields. Clementine glanced at her ladyship, and saw her reading with great focus.
Bumblebee sighed as they passed the house. "What is it, Bumblee?" she asked quietly.
He pointed at the decaying home. "That were ours. Before ma and pa died." His voice was soft and lonely, his face turned from hers.
"I'm so sorry, Bumblebee. They must have been good parents for you to have grown up so kind and hard-working." She looked into his eyes and patted his hoof.
He held her gaze for a second, and then a small smile formed on his lips. "Well, that's right kind of you to say, Miss Clementine."
She returned the smile, then they both watched as the farms rolled by. "Why does everything look so run down?"
He shrugged. "Lots of damage from the floods, I reckon. Too much to fix and keep workin' in the fields at the same time, so most of it just didn't get fixed."
She sidled over to him and took him gently by the hoof. "Hey, it will be alright." She smiled and he turned to see her, eyes bright with unshed tears. He blinked and moisture crested his lower eyelid, to trickle down his cheeks. He sighed as they passed the ruins of what might have been a schoolhouse.
Why hasn't Lady Rubymane taken care of this? The question jumped to her throat and she fiercely pushed in back down into her chest, where it seemed to stick. Now is not the time! Will there ever be a time? I'm just her maid, no matter how she seems to favor me. She exhaled and looked to her left, where a farmhouse rested safe on a hill. The fields stretched off into bottomland that was once cleared but was now filling with brambles and saplings. I've never read about farms looking like this!
As she turned, out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a collection of small buildings, and twisted in her seat to look at them. They were approaching a crossroads with a cluster of perhaps 20 or 25 low buildings, half-timbered and thatched, radiating out of the center. There were two taller buildings amongst them; one a windmill, freshly whitewashed, with slowly rotating sails that rested at the far edge of the village, and the other a wooden structure near the center, which itself was low-lying but which had a slender tower rising three stories up above the town, sporting a somewhat larger platform at the top. She struggled to make out details, but it appeared there was brazier with a small fire at the center. What is that?
As they approached the village, she suddenly realized she didn't even know the name of the place. Maybe somepony will mention it. The brazier disappeared as the edge of the platform rose to cut off her view. She lowered her gaze to look at the first buildings they passed. The village itself was on a rise and appeared to have been spared the damages done to the farm, but there were still signs of neglect. Several of the cottages appeared to be abandoned, doors hanging loose on their hinges, roofs with holes in the thatch, one with a partially collapsed wall. Here and there she saw signs of occupation, a mare sweeping a floor, a stallion thatching a roof with fresh straw, a colt and a filly hurrying to one of several market stalls where a farmer was selling cabbages, eggs and sacks of grain. It isn't Restday; most of the cottage ponies will be working.
None of the ponies paid them any mind after their first glance, just as the farmers had done. Rubymane looked up from the medical book and quietly said, "Children, while we are in the village, this time, you are to call me ma'am. Do you understand?"
"Yes my... ma'am." Clementine caught her self just in time, then glanced over at Bumblebee.
The colt's black mane bobbed as he responded, "Yes, ma'am, but why?"
Clementine snorted, "She's incognito, silly. In disguise."
He glowered. "I knows what imgog... imcog... er, I know what that word means!" She fought hard to repress a smile as he glared at her with all the indignity of a slighted farmcolt. Then he lost his composure and snorted out a laugh, causing her to giggle in response.
Lady Rubymane closed the book sharply, startling the young ponies, but she didn't say anything, just looked around at the village, seeming to peer through her veil to a low-lying wooded area that started near the westernmost cottage as the wagonette rolled towards the crossroads. "Which house is yours, Bumblebee?"
"That one, m-ma'am." He gestured to the same cottage, which was somewhat isolated and dilapidated compared to its neighbors. There were no shutters on the one window and the sagging roof was badly in need of thatching.
The unicorn shook her head. "Stop here, gentlecolts." The coachponies halted and quickly unhitched from their traces, one holding them to steady the vehicle while the other pulled a lever that engaged a brake on one of the wheels. He then reached under the bed and pulled out what appeared to be iron steps, attaching them to the opening on the side of the bed. Testing that they were set, he stood by, preparing to assist if needed.
Rubymane rose, the tome glowing as she bore its weight. "Stay here for now, both of you. I will send for you." But our adventure! Clementine nodded and Bumblebee just looked worried as the unicorn descended the steps, ringing as her hooves struck them. She walked briskly about fifty yards to the door of the house, pushed it open, then stopped. She was still for a moment, then a silver sphere appeared around her. She entered the cottage, disappearing from view.
"Are you alright?" Clementine turned to see Bumblebee staring at the closing door, swallowing hard.
"What was that her ladyship done, that glow?"
"Oh, I expect it was a spell of protection from whatever may be the cause of your sister's illness." Clementine saw the glow now flickering along the side wall, through the window.
"Clementine, come quickly, alone, and bring the sheets and pot!" Lady Rubymane's voice was suddenly in her ear and she almost jumped out of her seat.
Bumblebee looked at her in confusion. "What happened?"
"More magic, I suppose. Could you wait here; her ladyship just wanted me to bring some things." She gathered up the pot and linens and clambered down the side of the coach with the pot's handle in her mouth.
She noticed the gray coachpony's ear twitch, and he turned to address gruffly address them. "Well, I'm off to fetch some firewood. Colt, you stay here with Hoofsteady and mind what he tells you. And Miss Clementine," his tone turned gentler for some reason, "make sure you knock. The Lady will open the door."
The gray, Mouldboard, as she later learned, trotted away from the village to gather fallen wood, Bumblebee took his seat in quiet confusion, and Clementine made her best speed to the door, only stopping herself from opening it by mistake through her own clumsiness, as she knocked into it with the iron pot.
Lady Rubyman poked her head out. "I'll take the sheets; you take that and fill it up with water, and get back here quickly." She disappeared and the door slapped shut. As it did, stinking air from inside the cottage, more a hovel, now that she was close to it, nearly knocked her backward. Ugh! Did something die in th... She stopped herself, and briefly asked Celestia to aid her as she ran with the now empty pot towards the crossroads in the middle of the village.
There she saw an iron pump set in the ground at the other end of the village, about eight cottages down. She could feel eyes upon her as she quickly went to work raising water from the earth, pumping by pulling down with her full weight with both hooves while a thin stream of water trickled into the pot she had set beneath the spout. Then the pump was primed and with two more pumps the pot was filled to the brim. It was considerably heavier when she lifted it and she could not trot with it on the return.
From where she stood, she could not see the wagon or Bumblebee's cottage, and Mouldboard was not about, so when a pair of older earth pony colts blocked her path, she felt a stab of alarm. They glared down at her, one tall and skinny, the other stout but thickly muscled. Both had grimy coats that were some shade of brown, and their homespun clothes were dirty and patched. They both stank of stale beer, not that Clementine recognized the odor.
"Well, well, wat 'ave we 'ere, goodcolt Plowneck?" the skinny one grinned, crooked yellow teeth showing beneath a muzzle that had been broken and not properly set before healing. His green eyes leered at her and her skin crawled.
"I'd say we 'ave a little unicorn miss 'oo's lost 'er way, goodcolt Shivershanks." She glanced away from Shivershanks and looked at the heavy set colt's piggy black eyes. They might have been painted on for all the emotion they showed. She felt ice forming in her stomach as alarm changed to fear.
She put down the pot to speak. "Let m-me pass, please." She was feeling small and vulnerable, looking up at the two of them. "It's a matter of some urgency!"
Shivershanks opened his mouth in mock surprise. "Oh, a matter of some urgency, eh? Bringing 'er ladyship's bathwater is it?"
"Well, no, not exactly, but she'll be missing me shortly and will send somepony to look for me, so..."
Plowneck stepped up to her and she could smell his rancid breath. "Wat do you take us for? There ain't no lady, you're 'ere alone. Just you an' usn's."
Clementine backed up and stumbled, finding her back to the wall of one of the cottages. "But the carriage..."
Shivershanks lost his grin. "Ain't no carriage in the village, wench! Think maybe we'd know if 'erself dropped by fer a visit." He leered again. "But nice try. Now, lets 'ave yer bits, love."
"Surely you saw..." What if incognito doesn't mean a convention... what if it's a spell! They really don't-
Plowneck's hoof slapped her across her cheek, sharply. "Enough. Bits. Now."
Tears sprung to her eyes as her voice quavered, "I don't have any!" She felt more alone than she ever had.
Shivershanks reached into his dirty linen shirt and pulled a short knife out of a concealed sheath. "Well then, that's too bad."
Her heart hammered in her chest. "I'll..." she lowered her horn. "Don't make me blast you!"
Plowneck chuckled, sounding like a small animal having the life crushed out of it. "We saw you pumping with your hooves and carrying that pot with your mouth, cripple."
"I'll scream!" She tried sliding along the wall, but Shivershanks blocked her path by leaning one hoof against it, the other twisting the knife in small patterns in front of her face.
"Go ahead. All the stallions is out in the fields. Ain't nopony comin' to help. But I'll cut your fair white throat for it. Now, last chance, bits."
"I..." Clementine's tears flowed freely. "I swear by Celestia I don't have any!"
Shivershanks placed the knife flat against the side of her face and slowly pushed it up under her cap, pulling back so it cut through the ribbon that secured it. He tossed it away as her mousy mane fell around her face, some falling to the ground where the sharp blade had sliced away an unruly, knotted lock. "Well, perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement, lass." His leer took on a darker character. "Look at that, Necker. You ever seen anything so fine?"
"Like spun gold it is." Must you mock me as well? The stout one grabbed a hoof-full and pulled it to his blunt muzzle. "Smells good, she does. A fine, fine unicorn maid, just for us. Who'd've thought?"
"Surely you don't... I'm just a filly!" About now is when the hero is supposed to show up.
"And fillin' out nice. Now, you be nice to us, and I won't slice that pretty face of yours for you."
This isn't happening. "I'm a good girl!"
"We'll find out, won't we?" Shivershanks made quick a motion with his head and Plowneck grabbed her by the waist, while he touched the knife to her throat. "Take her!"
She kicked uselessly as the heavyset plowcolt dragged her effortlessly away from the village towards a thicket. Within a minute, they had reached it and threw her into a crude hut, following her in and closing the door.
"Me first," Shivershank towered over where she lay.
I'm about to be ravished! And I don't even know what that means! The hero always shows up BEFORE she gets ravished! Her mind blanked as she looked around for a way out, any way. She curled up and trembled as...
Suddenly she realized she wasn't frightened. She wasn't anything. She was watching a scene with a unicorn and two earth pony bandits. No... she was reading it. It was unfolding in her mind's eye like when she read a story.
The white-coated unicorn filly drew back from her wretched captors. The bandits grinned at her hungrily in the gloom of their filthy den. A glorious golden mane framed fair, almost ethereal features and her enormous sapphire eyes stared up at them in terror as they removed their befouled shirts and approached her, lust filling their features with its dusky glow.
I've snapped. I've gone mad. And even in my madness I am reminded of my inadequacies.
The maiden tried to stand, shaking on her slender legs, her lissome frame poised for flight, but with nowhere to run in the middle of the woods, the night's silvery light filtering through the branches of dead trees that surrounded the hut visible through a small window. Blood from her heart thundered in her ears as despair took her. She shook her head, trying desperately to win free of the band of anamannatite clasped upon her horn, but the magecoffle was secure. The bandits moved in, one grasping her horn. She felt the warmth of their bodies, the painful pressure at the base of her horn where one bandit turned her head to force a kiss, smelled the dry sweat, the ale that gave them the courage to dare despoil her.
The door to the hut crashed open, allowing the light of the full moon to fill the scene. The two bandits whirled, snarling, one with a knife, the other, more muscular one snatching up a truncheon from a nearby table. The ruined doorframe was filled by a tall, powerful unicorn, his horn blazing with silver light as a rapier glowed, held by his aura. A frilly shirt and purple brocade jacket covered his muscular forequarters and his golden eyes filled with righteous anger. "Hold, varlets!"
Silverhoof? Really? Does my insanity have no imagination?
The bandits froze, startled by the sight of the heroic prince. The slender one recovered his tongue. "Oh. My lord! Forgive us, we didn't-" He didn't finish the sentence, instead throwing his knife at the noblepony while his partner dove, raising his club to bash the unicorn's head in. The knife was parried by the rapier, both falling to the floor as the larger thug bore the prince down to the packed earth. The lean bandit leapt forward grabbing the prince by his elegantly spiraled horn. "Finish him, quick!" The maiden...
Grabs the rapier and STABS THEM!
The maiden grabbed the rapier with two hooves and stabbed both bandits quickly from behind and to the side, first the larger one, through the lungs and heart, leaning in then pulling the rapier out as blood spurted, then as he turned in astonished horror, the lean one through one of his green eyes, the Damarescus steel sinking easily into his foul brain. Both bandits collapsed instantly, landing on the struggling Silverhoof.
The prince rolled the bodies off and looked down at them in shock, then stared at the maiden. "You... you KILLED them!"
"You're welcome!"
"But you're the heroine! I'm supposed to rescue you!" He sounded hurt and indignant.
This story is great!
"Well, you did. I mean, you brought the sword and got their attention." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "You were very brave and dashing. Thank you for saving me."
"Of course I was brave and dashing! That's what I do! But this isn't how the story is supposed to go! I was supposed to wrestle with them and then defeat them with my magic and my physical strength, they were supposed to run out the door and into the woods and I was supposed to sweep you off your hooves. Have you even read this sort of book? Gads, is this blood?" He looked down at the red-stained ruffles. "I think I'm going to be sick!"
"Well, they were trying to kill you, and they were going to RAVISH me! So I really don't think I did anything wrong here!" She stamped her pretty hoof. "And while you're here, can you get this darned thing off of my horn?"
"What?" Silverhoof looked slightly green. "Oh, that. No, that has to stay. It's for your own protection."
"If I had been able to cast magic, these bandits wouldn't have taken me to their lair for evil purposes. They would have left me alone!"
The prince nodded. "Yes, but they're small time thugs. They WERE small time thugs. Now they're two bodies."
"Who knows how many other ponies they would have hurt?"
The prince nodded. "True, but it doesn't matter. In the big scheme of things, your safety is all that matters. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go throw up somewhere."
The maiden... no... she was Clementine. Clementine stared down at Shivershanks, a look of pure astonishment on his face as his green eyes stared up at the ceiling, seeing nothing. The lumpen body of Plowneck was faced away from her, but it too was still. There was no noise, no marks on the bodies, no sign of Silverhoof. She was alone, her mousy mane framing her tear-streaked, plain gray face. She was unravished, but her uniform was torn at the collar and she could still taste the foulness of Shivershanks' breath in her mouth. Her cheek ached from the slap, and holding a hoof up to it, she felt it starting to swell.
I need some time to think about this. Time! I have to hurry, Lady Silvermane is waiting!
She opened the unbroken door and ran to where she had been taken. The pot was there, thankfully still full of water. She bent to take it, then noticed her cap in the bushes. She grabbed that first, stuffing it into her apron waistband, then took the water in her mouth. She failed to notice the golden hair that fell from the cap. Then she walked as fast as her burden allowed around the corner to Bumblebee's cottage at the end of the street. She noticed Mouldboard had started a fire outside and was building it with the wood he had gathered. She knocked on the door.
Rubymane's face appeared, angry for the first time she'd known. "What took you so long, child? This is serious!" She looked down at the pot in Clementine's mouth. "Bring that inside, then explain yourself."
She entered the single room of the cottage, the odor of sickness and foulness weakening her knees. She noticed a bundle of sheets that must have been filthy in one corner of the room, tied inside one of the clean sheets. Stains that she didn't want to think about were already seeping through the clean cloth. Pansy Pea lay upon a bed with a straw mattress under some of the clean sheets, while the rest of the sheets were folded and lain upon a chest that was the only other piece of furniture. She stared at the ceiling, breathing shallowly, covered in sweat and mumbling incoherently. A stinking blanket lay on the dirt floor.
Clementine placed the pot of water on the floor and looked at the Lady, who looked back at her sternly at first, then suddenly with shock as she took in her bruised cheek, tear streaked, dirty face, missing cap and torn uniform. "Oh, Celestia, what happened?"
She cried. She sobbed. She blubbered, but she had no words. Lady Rubymane hugged her and shushed her and stroked her mane and told her it was going to be alright, that she was so sorry, that they'd find whoever did this and punish them.
"My lady," Clementine sniffed, finding her tongue, "that won't be necessary."
"What? These scoundrels must be found! I admire your impulse towards mercy, child, and may Celestia bless all merciful ponies, but these rogues have probably hurt others and will presumably do so again! I mean, beating a child! Honestly! I don't care how poor and ignorant they are, they are wicked ponies!"
"My lady, that won't be necessary because they won't hurt anypony else."
Confusion filled the noble's eyes. "How could you know they-" She stopped, realization dawning. "Clementine, my sweet. What happened to them?"
"They were wicked, my lady. Even more wicked than you imagine."
"Were?" Rubymane voice was quiet. "Where are they, my dear one?"
"In a hut, my lady. A hundred yards into the woods." Clementine once again felt like she wasn't really in her body, but this was all too real. Not that the last time wasn't also all too real.
"And how do you know they are still there, my darling one?" Rubymane's voice was very small and gentle.
"Because my lady, they're dead." She wondered if tears should come again, but they didn't. Not for those two. "They were going to do... things to me." She looked down at the dirt floor. "If Celestia blesses the merciful ponies, my lady, what will become of me?"
"What... how?" She turned her head to look at the pony in the sickbed. "Take me there." She took her hat and veil and threw them to the floor, then threw open the door. "Mouldboard! Is that fire ready?"
"Yes ma..." He paused, as if seeing her face as if for the first time. "My lady!"
"Stand back and stay upwind!" The coachpony backed away from the fire as the lady's horn glowed. The bundle of foul bedding glowed as it carried by magic to the fire and dumped into it. The fire spluttered smokily, then Rubymane concentrated and it blazed up again, the thick black smoke from the sheets being carried away from the village by the breeze. "Good! Now, come inside." The gray hastened to obey as they returned to the inside of the room, the stench noticeably less oppressive now. Rubymane gestured to the pot. "Take a cloth from the pile and wet it, and dab Pansy's forehead with it. She's not contagious, but she has fever and needs to be kept cool. Don't let her get out of bed. She may be delusional, but she's very weak. Keep the cloth wet and don't leave her unattended. We shall return shortly."
The coachpony bowed his head. "Yes, my lady." He picked up the cloth and the pot and made his way to the end of the bed.
Rubymane hastened out the door, gesturing for Clementine to follow. "Take me to the place." The filly nodded numbly, leading her lady through the street to the place where she had been taken.
As they progressed, the few villagers not out in the fields stared, then bowed, curtsied and hoofed their forelocks. A colt ran away from the village towards the fields, yelling "The Lady! She be here! She's come!"
Rubymane frowned. "Now they shall all come in from the fields and miss a half day of work just to make a fuss over me. It's what I wanted to avoid, but it cannot be helped now."
Clementine nodded dumbly, hearing the words but not finding any joy in the explanation. "This is where they stopped me, my lady. Then they dragged me into the woods. I remember the path."
"Lead on, child." Rubymane followed her down a deer path that led to a thicket, then had to duck under some low lying branches. After another twist in the path, they arrived at the crude hut, the door hanging open. Rubymane frowned, then ducked low to enter. She turned around and popped her head out. "Stay there."
Clementine stood, her mind in a fog as the shock of the episode kept a firm hold on her. She could see a glow from within, heard noises, possibly the sounds of bodies being moved. A thud that sounded damp and unpleasant. Then the Lady was standing before her. "I will not allow those two villains to steal your childhood." Her eyes glowed with blackfire.
Clementine felt pressure on her mind, felt anger, not at her but at her memory. There was a resistance to the pressure from somewhere; it felt almost like somepony was protecting her, but the resistance seemed somehow to turn to understanding, then acceptance. The Lady's face seemed to grow in her sight, her eyes filling her world. Then she remembered what had really happened.
The kidnappers had argued over her. They fought, and as they did, she made her escape and ran back to the village. She had some idle fantasy of a prince from a storybook arriving to save her in the nick of time, but that was just a silly thought. When she returned with Lady Rubymane to confront the robbers, the Lady had gone inside by herself. The world swam and then she was back, the Lady standing before her, looking concerned, and exhausted. The lines around her eyes seemed deeper, her hair more brittle, her cheeks now sunken, but the fire in her eyes was as bright as ever.
"My Lady! Are you well? What happened? Have they fled?"
"I'm... fine. And no, my dear, they have not fled. Justice has been done. Don't go in there." Clementine checked her instinctive forward motion, then turned back to the noble unicorn and bowed her head. Rubymane chucked her lightly under the chin with a hoof and smiled wryly, saying, "Come, I can see a reception committee forming in the village." Clementine turned her head to see thirty or so ponies, mostly dirty from their fieldwork, gawping at them from the village square, whispering to one another, some hurriedly attempting to brush the dust from their homespun smocks, a few of the mares working furiously with wooden combs to get their manes and tails into some semblance of order.
As they approached, all whispering ceased, replaced by an awed silence as stallions and mares made attempts at bows and curtsies, most with a shy smile, but some with faces showing something like fear, and a few who were plainly angry and resentful about something.
An older stallion stepped forward, bowed his head, touched his hoof to his forelock and said apologetically, "M'lady, we're so sorry we've not 'ad time to scrub up and all, as we didn't know of yer ladyship's a-comin', but welcome to Fetlock. And to yer young noble guest as well, welcome miss." He bowed his head also to Clementine, who blinked in reply, nonplussed.
"My maid, Clementine," corrected Rubymane, though she cocked an eyebrow at the filly. The forepony looked somewhat scandalized.
"Oh! Beggin' yer pardon, m'lady! I didn't see 'er uniform an' she ain't got no cap, and seein' 'ow she looks an' all." How I look and all?
Rubymane looked thoughtful for a second. "Er, yes. Perfectly understandable, goodcolt..."
"He's Deep Furrow, yer ladyship, me 'usband, and a great galloot!" A stout mare, pale blue with a shock of red left in her graying mane, elbowed the dun stallion as she walked up next to him. "Can ye na see the child is hurt, ye oaf? What's 'append m'lady?"
"She was attacked by two stallions." There was a collective gasp. "Brigands living in the wood a bowshot hence." Rubymane gestured in the direction of the hut.
"Shivershanks an' Plowneck, an' no mistake!" The peasant mare spat on the ground when she said the names. "Two bad 'uns growed up wild. We thought they was run off until food an' tools started vanishin' agin' last week, m'lady."
Deep Furrow snorted. "Callie Flour me luv, we'll fetch 'em back proper this time an' they'll be facin' 'er ladyship's justice." Murmurs of assent rose from the crowd and some of the stallions lifted up their rakes and shovels, looking into the woods with menace.
"No, goodcolt, goodmare. They've had their justice, and will trouble you no more." The crowd went silent as Rubymane's clear voice filled the square. "They took Clementine to their hovel, but then they fought over her. She escaped and came to fetch me, but by the time we arrived, well... they had killed one another."
Callie Flour spat into the dust once again, this time with satisfaction. "A bad end, but deserved, m'lady. To take a child..." Her face twisted in disgust and the crowd growled.
"Quite. They'll not be missed or mourned, I'm sure. But I would appreciate it if somepony went to see to them. Perhaps you'll find some of your missing belongings in their den. But the purpose of our visit was to see to my undergardener, Pansy Pea. I found out from her brother than she's taken ill, and it seems that nopony was caring for her."
"Has she now? That's news to us, m'lady." Deep Furrow frowned. "She keeps to 'erself and don't come out th' fields, so she wasna missed. What sickens 'er?"
"She has the brain fever." The stallion's mouth drew into a thin line as the noble continued. "The marshes have come closer to the village near her cottage since the late flood, and the marsh air bears the fever. They must be drained, back a half bowshot from the edge of the village."
Callie Flour frowned. "With respect, m'lady, we've enough to do keepin' food in us an' ourses bellies. Drainin' that marsh'll have ta wait until after 'arvest, beggin' m'lady's pardon. An' not ta be cold, but oo's ta care for a sicker with no family in times like these? An' the brain fever? M'lady, all's ta do is keep 'er 'ead cool an' 'ope. Could be weeks, and then she up and dies anyways." Clementine gasped. "Sorry miss, but that's the truth of it."
Rubymane sighed. "I understand, and thank you for being direct." She looked thoughtful. "I shall send to Canterlot for a doctor, and Bumblebee will care for his sister in the meantime." She pursed her lips. "I will look into the marsh situation. Perhaps there is a magical remedy. And we shall have an ale tonight."
There was a cheer from the crowd, but one stallion's angry voice was heard over it. "High time!" Rubymane looked sharply to the crowd, as ponied edged away from a middle-aged, careworn black stallion with a patch over his eye.
"You have something to say, goodcolt?" Her voice was hard.
The stallion's face was grim. "Yes, m'lady, I do." He advanced boldly to the front. "May I speak my mind?" The unicorn nodded brusquely. "We've not 'ad an ale fer nigh on ten year. We've not seen 'ide or 'air of ye fer all that time, m'lady. No feasts, no dances, no Hearthswarmin!" The crowd moved and he was suddenly alone, ponies backing away as if expecting him to explode for his insolence. "It ain't right m'lady!"
Rubymane was still, her voice strongly controlled. "Have I not reduced your rents since the flood? Have I not replaced the mill and brought in a miller? Are you oppressed by unfair taxes?"
"Ye've not been unfair or cruel, m'lady. Ye've just not been 'ere, and we've not been there! Ever since his lordship died," the gasp from the crowd was shocked, "ye haven't been able ta face us, 'ave ye? It weren't our fault, it was that damned tree fell on 'im! And yer punishin' us! T'aint right! T'aint proper! I lost me Whinny an' you stayed up in yer manor when we put 'er in the ground!" His voice finally broke and tears ran down his face. "We feel our losses no less'n you, m'lady."
Clementine's eyes felt as though they must have been as large as platters as Lady Rubymane stalked towards the stallion. "Nopony is to mention-"
"Lord Springheart. 'Is name was Springheart, m'lady. An' he was the best lord a pony ever 'ad."
Rubymane cried out as if she'd been struck. Rage warred with crushing grief on her face as her horn flared. The one-eyed pony stood his ground. "Send me to my Whinny, m'lady. I'm ready." The unicorn cried out and a silver flash filled the square. When the afterimage faded, the one-eyed stallion stood, his face downcast and tear-streaked. Of Lady Rubymane, there was no sign.
Sweet Celestia!
Author's Note
Sorry for the delay. Between family obligations for the holidays, and a work schedule that's very heavy before and during the first quarter of the year, and a tad bit of block when I tried to work on it earlier, I've given you a long hiatus. I hope to get the next chapter out next week. I'm going to start on it now, and thanks for reading.
Obituaries
It is with a heavy heart that we must announce the passing of our beloved cousin and friend, the Right Honorable Lord Springheart, Baron of Sparoak, taken from us to the next world on the 19th day of Redleaf, in the 474th year of our reign. He follows his son, Colonel Sir Galeheart, Knight Commander of the Royal Guard Hussars, and daughter, Dame Softmane Surehoof, inventor of the hyperbolodial mirror, Fellow of the Royal Canterlot Academy of Sciences, and Senior Lecturer in the subjects of Astronomy and Optics at Canterlot University, into the Great Mystery. He is survived by his beloved Baroness Aurora Rubymane, onetime Vice-Regent of the Royal Library, translator of the Old Ponish epic "Euponemius" and author of "A History of the Ponish-Speaking Creatures," "The Economic Causes of the Dragon Wars," and more scholarly works, poems and pamphlets than would fit on this page. Our heart goes out to the Baroness in her time of deeply felt grief.
Lord Springheart was a noted sailor, navigator, and naturalist, who mapped the North Luna Ocean and discovered Stable Island. His books include "The Birds of Stable Island," "A Natural Atlas of the Lunarian Northwest," and the rousing adventure story, "Sea Spray and Cold Iron." He saw service in the Little Dragon War, taking part in the battles of Shadowgorge and Baking Plains, where he was mentioned twice in dispatches, and commanded the Third Mage Battalion in the costly and terrible final Ponish victory at Bloodhoof Pass, for which he received the Solar Cross with Comets for conspicuous gallantry and was raised to the peerage. But for all his skill at sea and at war, he was at heart a scholar and a family pony.
Ever dutiful and hooves-on, the Baron was directing a barn raising in the village of Fetlock, within his demesne. A winch hung from a great oak was being used to lift a beam into place. Spring rains had softened the ground, so that when a freak wind blew up, the tree uprooted. Lord Springheart was killed instantly and two of his tenants were seriously injured. We consider it a mercy that he did not suffer, and died performing the seignorial duties in which he took such joy and pride.
In a life such as ours, where so many ponies come and go, when nearly every soul we have known has already preceded us to the next world, we fear we might become indifferent to, or even careless of the lives of the individuals who make up our principality. The hammer blow felt at the news of Springheart's passing affirms our capacity to love, cherish and mourn, and for that, we are profoundly thankful.
Baroness Rubymane has requested that members of the public, friends, peers, anypony, respect her privacy and make no condolence calls, send no notes or gifts, and make no public expression of memorial until such time that she announces the end of her time of mourning. Donations in memoriam may be made to the Old Soldiers and Sailors Home Foundation. We ask, nay we command that her wishes be respected, and look forward to the day that we may call upon her to offer our own personal sympathies.
We furthermore announce that in light of her personal contributions to the realm and those of her family, we establish this day that Aurora Rubymane is henceforth Baroness of Sparoak in her own right, and that right and title to the Barony of Sparoak belongs to the heirs of her body and heart in perpetuam .
With love for all creatures of our realm, and under the Great Seal of Equestria,
Celestia Equestriana Princeps Regens
"Ya idjit!" Callie Flour clouted the one-eyed stallion with a heavy hoof, causing him to rock and shake his head. "Ya canna leave well enough alone! Oh no, old Sour'ops must 'ave 'is say! Well now look what ye done!" The assembled ponies grumbled in assent. "She was 'ere, she was 'elpin, she rooted out them buggers in the woods an' she was gonna give us a bloody ale for the first time in more'n a 'undred moons! She may 'ave enjoyed it! She may 'ave been 'appy!" Sourhops drew back as the hoof rose again, scowling, Clementine's anxiety tightening her throat. Occasional, and admittedly mild and deserved, spankings from Cookie were the only form of violence she had ever witnessed outside of an adventure novel. Now, two bodies lay cooling in the woods and it seemed a beating or a brawl was forthcoming.
"You stop that now Callie. You know I'm right. This 'as to end! She can mourn fer the rest o' 'er life if she wants, but she's makin' us all mourn with 'er. We 'ave colts and fillies who ain't never 'ad a cask of good ale cracked for 'em, never 'ad a proper feast, never been to the manner fer a 'arthswarmin'!" The mare paused, anger gleaming still in her gray eyes, but she stayed her strike. Sourhops continued soulfully, "Fetlock were a 'appy place, full a music, dancin', ponies chattin' and jokin', an' workin', 'ard, but always with 'is Lordship comin' ta see 'ow we was. You think I don't love that ol' stallion still? You think I don't 'urt? I'm the one what stood with 'im at Bloody Pass, and I'm the one what stood next to 'im when 'e died, and lost me eye when 'e did." His voice thickened. "She... shoulda come ta see Whinny off. Whinny loved 'er so." A tear glistened in his eye.
Callie sighed, lowering her hoof. "Ya great lummox. She'd 'ave come around, she just needed time ta come outta 'er shell, ya poxy-brained git. An' speaking of poxy-brained, what's to become of Pansy Pea now, eh?"
Clementine couldn't help herself, she felt she had to stand up for her Lady. "Lady Rubymane said she'd get a doctor. I'm sure she'll keep her promise."
The mare turned to face her. "Oh, yer sure, are ye miss? An' yer sure she won't just lock 'erself up in 'er liberry an' ferget about usn's fer a few more years? She's mad with grief, child." Callie walked towards Clementine and cupped the filly's chin in her broad hoof. "When ye love as deep as them two, the loss don't just break yer heart, it can break yer mind." She gently stroked Clementine's swollen cheek. "I love me stallion more 'an life itself, an' if I lost 'im, I donna wat I'd do, but I know my life'd go on. After they lost their colt an' filly, they 'ad nothin' but each other, and when she lost 'im, 'er life didna go on. It just stopped where it were. In that there liberry."
"She lost her children as well?" Clementine went cold with the realization. "She never mentions them. She never talks about her family at all, except her nephew, and she doesn't like him much."
"She never talks to nobody about nothin'. That's 'ow she deals with it; by not dealin'. Now come love, let's see to that welt before it bruises."
Clementine allowed herself to be swept along by Callie Flour into a nearby cottage, and waited patiently while the older mare reached for a pot set up on a shelf with a number of other pots, bottles and jugs. She inhaled the melange of scents from drying herbs hung from the ceiling. She must be the village Wise Mare! Callie brought it down to the crude table and opened it. Clementine wrinkled her nose at the strong, astringent smell wafted into the room. The mare chuckled. "Witch 'azel darlin'." She picked a clean cloth off a rack along the side of the table and dipped it into the clear solution. "Let's 'ave yer loverly face 'ere."
Clementine complied and winced as the cloth touched her injured cheek. It felt so cold on her soft coat of her face that it almost burned, but she braved the pain, a tear running down the uninjured cheek. As the mare dabbed the distillate of witch hazel bark and flowers on the swollen area, she could actually feel the skin tightening, the swelling and throbbing abate. "It's magic!" she exclaimed.
Callie grinned. "No love, 'azel ain't that kind o' witch. It's just old fashion village physickin' with a brew ye make up from that bush with the yeller flowers. We gots plenty of 'em around 'ere." She dabbed some more of the solution on, then rinsed the cloth in a bucket and wiped the rest of Clementine's face off. "Let's see that purty face wivout all that dirt an' tear tracks, eh? Give us a smile?"
Clementine smiled up shyly at the kind pony. "Thank you, ma'am." She curtsied neatly, causing the mare to guffaw.
"Aw, gawan!" she laughed. "Ain't nopony never curtsied ta me afore!" Callie Flour stopped chuckling and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Child, you need ta keep puttin' witch 'azel on that there cheek four times a day until all the swellin' be gone. 'Ere we are!" She took a small clay vial from a drawer and a ladle from where it hung on the wall and ladeled witch hazel from the pot into the vial, then stoppered it up with a bit of wax. "That'll be enough ta see ya through, child."
"Thank you so much, ma'am." Clementine stuck the vial into a pocket of her apron and curtsied again, another burst of chuckles bubbling up from Callie Flour in response. Is this not proper? she thought. Mrs. Flour is the mistress of this house, after all. "I must go though, ma'am, for her ladyship may need me and I must find her."
"Check 'er liberry then, child. That's where she'll be, I warrant. Tendin' to 'er ghosts, poor dear."
Clementine nodded, resisted the temptation to curtsey again, then turned to leave the sweet-smelling home. She trotted out, steadier on her feet, and glanced at the earth ponies as they milled about in small groups, discussing the extraordinary events of the day. Several nodded and put their hooves to their foremanes in a gesture of respect she knew she didn't deserve, but she didn't have time to discuss the issue, so she just nodded in response and lengthened her stride into a canter. Shortly, she came to Pansy Pea's house, a pall of smoke eddying up and away from the village from the smouldering embers of the fouled bedding in the field beyond. Bumblebee and the coachpony Hoofsteady watched her curiously as she dashed past them to the cottage.
She ducked her head in and saw Mouldboard dabbing Pansy Pea's forehead with the damp cloth. "Has Lady Rubymane come back, goodpony?"
"No miss," he said, sounding concerned. "What has happened?"
I don't have time to explain everything. "Somepony in the village mentioned Lord Springheart."
Mouldboard winced. "And it didn't go well?"
She shook her head. "She teleported away. Callie Flour said she's probably in her library."
"Reckon so, miss. You're going to have to be very careful around her. She loved her family like fire loves to burn. The only thing that came close was her love of books, and now that's all she has. The house'll be in a right state now. She'll sleep in the library, she won't eat, she probably won't even allow herself to be groomed. Bills'll go unpaid. Staff'll go unpaid. We won't have nothin' to do. Mr. Glass'll have to take charge again. Why, this is the first time we've taken her out on the wagon further than a trip around the lake since we lost his lordship. Poor old mare. This may finish her."
She stood up straight as a thought occurred to her. "Well, I'm her maid of the library, and I must attend her!"
"Maid of the library? Really? Well... I guess she can't rightly throw you out then. Be careful, even so. She'll be hurting something awful."
"But what of Pansey Pea? What of the doctor?"
"Doctor? What doctor?"
"Lady Rubymane said she'd send for a doctor to care for her. She said so to the village before, well, before the problem."
"Ah." Mouldboard nodded, his dark mane bobbing. "You'll have to explain it all to Mr. Glass. Somepony has to stay here with her," his eyes flicked to the softly moaning Pansy Pea, "until he sorts it. Probably need to send one of the cooks down here to care for her, keep her fed and clean." His face took a hard line. "Her ladyship gave charge of her to me, and I don't know that youngin' is in a fit state to care for his sister, not alone. And are you alright miss? You look like you've been ill-treated."
"It's nothing." She smiled, but it failed to reach her eyes. "I'll be fine, goodcolt, thank you. Now I must get back to the house!"
"Bumblebee and Hoofsteady are still with the wagon. Go tell Hoofy what I said and send Bumblebee back here. I can use him to run errands. There's a wisdom abouts..."
"Callie Flour!"
He nodded. "That's the name. I'll send him to fetch a bit of soup for her, and for me too, for that matter. But you'd best not tarry, miss."
"Yes! Thank you for being so... decisive."
He nodded brusquely before turning to dip and wring out the cloth in cold water, gently patting the moaning mare's forehead with it. She trotted out, straight to the waiting wagonette. Bumblebee looked at her with some trepidation; Hoofsteady munched some hay patiently.
"I'm so sorry, but there have been some... events. Lord Springheart was mentioned by somepony in the village." Bumblebee was nonplussed, but Hoofsteady grimached and smacked his hoof into his own face loud enough to make a clap. "Bumblebee, go into your cottage. Mouldboard will have some errands for you to run. He'll stay and help with Pansy until we can get somepony else from the manor. Goodcolt Hoofsteady?" The coachpony pulled his hoof down his face and opened his eyes. "Can you get me to the manor? I need to speak with Mr. Glass."
He looked at the wagonette. "Miss, this thing ain't rigged for a single pull and I ain't got a change of tack. But we can leave it here and I'll head up there with you so you won't be alone."
"That will do very nicely, thank you." Bumblebee was still staring, confused. "I don't have time to explain. Just go inside and do what Mouldboard tells you. You can trust him."
Hoofsteady nodded and pushed the colt towards the door. "Go on, lad! We have to leave! You'll be fine." Bumblebee nodded shakily and walked into the cottage.
"Thank you, goodcolt. I'm afraid I won't be able to run as fast as you." The both turned up the path and broke into a canter, a three-beat gait faster than a trot but short of a full gallop. Hoofsteady shortened his stride to a medium canter while Clementine extended hers so they could match both gait and speed as they hastened back to the manor.
They ran in silence, Clementine's breathing the only sound aside from their three-part synchronized hoofbeats. The ran out of the village, through the wooded verge and past the distressed fields. She noticed that the trip from the manorhouse had been down a gentle slope, and this return trip was uphill. After five minutes her breathing grew labored, and Hoofsteady slowed to a trot.
"Woah, miss! Running yourself sick won't help nopony."
Anypony! she thought, but she was too busy taking in lungfuls of air to speak. And he is an adult, after all. She slowed down to a trot as well, grateful that Hoofsteady had noticed her distress. She looked about and saw the ruined barn they had passed earlier. About halfway then. "I guess... I need... to get... in shape!" Heroines never run out of breath in the stories!
Hoofsteady snorted. "You're a maid of the manor, and a youngster too, not a messenger pony. We'll get there quick enough." After a minute, they trotted past another clearing in the woods, and the roof of the manor was visible above the trees. Clementine had her breath back. She glanced at Hoofsteady, who nodded, and she broke out into a canter again. He kept pace and in two minutes they were at the front gate, open for the day. She was breathing hard, but not out of breath. I need to practice running! The world is not all books.
The gatepony recognized them and waved them through, a curious look on his face but not wishing to question the Lady's maid on what appeared to be an urgent errand. The front door beckoned, but being servants, they detoured to the rear of the house, slowing to a trot so as not to knock anypony down who might be coming around the corner.
As they stopped at the door to the lumber room, Clementine paused to collect her composure and her thoughts. She glanced at her reflection in the glass of the door; her mane, uncapped, was by now a wild mousy mop, and her cheek was still swollen and red, despite the application of the witch hazel. She was lathered from her run and her once neat uniform was stained with sweat and dust, the collar torn where Shivershanks had grabbed her to force his kiss upon her. For that to be my first kiss! Anger and sadness burned in her heart as she spat onto the ground in front of the door.
"Miss?" Clementine turned and looked at the patiently waiting Hoofsteady. Thank Celestia for good, kind stallions! Then she thought for a moment.
"No, the kitchen door, I think, goodcolt Hoofsteady. I am not ready to be seen upstairs, not in this state." He nodded and they turned left, went down a gentle slope, around to the back of the house, past the sweet smelling rosemary garden. "You must be hungry; I shall ask Cookie to see to you. Then please wait until I speak with Mr. Glass. You may be needed to lead somepony back down to the cottage."
Thistlewhistle opened the door and started at seeing them standing there. "Clementine! And Hoofy!" She blushed as the coachpony smiled at her. "I mean Goodcolt Hoofsteady!"
"'Hello, This!" Hoofsteady pronounced the name with the soft theta, in a familiar tone. "Good to see you again." Thistlewhistle's orange cheeks flushed umber.
"Yes, er, quite." The undercook looked at the ground, kicked some dust and seemed to gather herself.
Well, this is interesting! thought Clementine. She cleared her throat.
"Oh, yes, Clem... goodness! What happened to you!" Concern flared in Thistlewhistle's eyes. She may be silly and superstitious about curses, or not so silly, but she cares.
"It's a long story. Is her Ladyship in the library?"
"The library? Why would she be there? She went riding with you!"
Maybe she just doesn't know. Or maybe she's not there either, I'll have to find out from Mr. Glass. "I'm sorry, but I'll need to wash up and go upstairs as quickly as possible. I won't have time to launder and mend my uniform. Do you think you could get a spare from Gooseberry and pin up a hem for me, please? It's important!"
"Well, you're the lady's maid now, not a scullion, so you don't answer to me. I don't answer to you though, just so we understand each other. This here is a favor. Besides, if Cookie wasn't at market she'd just tell me to do it for you anyway." She grinned and then chanced a look at Hoofsteady. "Any odds, it will be a chance to upset that stuck up Gooseberry. Maybe you could leave a few pins in when you give it back." The stallion looked away as if suddenly interested in the rosemary.
OK, one love triangle. Check. "A no doubt very unfortunate oversight. But I must go. And could you get something for poor goodcolt Hoofsteady? He must be famished after our run."
She left the two speaking quietly and trotted to the room she shared with Cookie. The market, another place I've never been to. Stablesboro was a small town in the other direction from Fetlock, a good two hour trip. The town wasn't in the demesne, that is the personal lands, of Lady Rubymane; it held an independent charter.
Sparoak boasted but four villages, Fetlock being the closest, their associated farmland, and considerable forests, which provided the prized live oaks and white pines the county was named for, supplying the shipbuilders of Baltimare with pine spars for masts and booms and timbers for hulls. But for every lumberpony, ten farmers had to work to feed everypony who ultimately supported the estate. Clementine wondered what a logging camp would be like as she entered the small room she still shared with Cookie and closed the door. At speed, she shucked off her dirty, sweaty uniform, poured cold water from a pitcher into a basin, soaked a washcloth in it, took a bar of soap and got the cloth sudsy, then scrubbed her hooves and face. After she had scrubbed off the grime, she tossed the water out the small window after checking for passers by, then rinsed out the cloth and wet down the suds.
Water had pooled on the floor, so after she towled herself dry, she mopped up the water with it and hung it over the bar at the foot of her bed along with the washcloth. Then she looked at the small steel mirror that hung above the washbasin and shook her head, looking at the disgrace of her mane. She took the bone comb the cook had given her for a Hearthswarming present last year and went to work, attacking the worst of the snarl and corralling it into a bun that she stuck in place with a short piece of dowel. Then she looked at her tail.
Amputation would be the better option. She delved the dusty depths of the kinked and matted mess and had just started to restore some order when there was a knock at the door. "Come in please!"
Thistlewhistle, no fashion plate herself, rolled her eyes when she came in bearing an old but clean uniform and a prickly red pincushion. "My pa used to set fire to the underbrush when it got that bad."
"I considered it, but my experience with fire is not the best." The undercook grunted in amusement, then set the uniform aside and took the comb.
"Allow me, your ladyship." Sarcasm aside, Thistlewhistle being able to use two hooves gave her significantly more leverage, and she made short work of the mess. "Considering how pretty your mane and tail are, I'd think you'd take better care of them. I sure would. I'd have that lug eating out of my hoof. Oh, but what did happen to your face?"
Clementine had had enough. "My mane and tail are the color of last year's straw and kinkier than the stuff at the bottom of the bin. My coat resembles that of a week-dead mouse I once found in the kitchen and my eyes are like mud puddles, but you're the third pony today to say that I'm pretty. I appreciate the kindness, but let's be realistic. And it's not like being pretty would help me be a better maid. Like Mr. Glass said, it's best for a maid not to be noticeable." She exhaled in frustration as she shimmied in to the uniform and started tying the cap under her chin. "Thank you for trying to build up my spirits, but I really do have to go upstairs on a matter of urgency. Please hem me up."
Thistlewhistle stared at her strangely. "I don't know why..." She blinked several times shook her head. "What other ponies said you were pretty today and why would that be unusual?"
"It's unusual because I'm plain as a doorknob and the other two were Callie Flour, who was just being nice to me because I was hurt, and Shivershanks, who is the pony who game me this!" She gestured at her swollen cheek, now starting to yellow with a bruise.
"A pony hit you? On purpose? Why? Where is he? What happened? What was done about it!?" Thistlewhistle was outraged.
"It doesn't matter! Pin me up, I must go!"
"Of course it matters! Why wouldn't it matter?"
"BECAUSE HE'S DEAD!" The silence in the room after the shout was almost visible, and Clementine's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Now please, please pin me up."
The undercook just stared for a moment, then unspeaking, barely breathing, pinned the hem of the skirt of the uniform up to an appropriate height.
"Thank you," Clementine said quietly. "I apologize for raising my voice."
Thistlewhistle nodded, shocked beyond words as the filly turned and left the room. Then she looked down at the comb in her hooves, the tangle of hair caught between its teeth resembling nothing so much as a fine golden necklace.
Outside the room, Clementine fought to regain her composure. It was surely not her fault her abductors had fought over her. A fine prize indeed , she though glumly, as she chanced to see her reflection in some of the silver plate which was arranged on a buffet in the kitchen as she walked through it to the stairway leading to the main floor. Why should I feel guilt then? She thrust the feeling into the back of her mind as she prepared herself for her encounter with Mr. Glass.
She entered the butler's pantry, a small room between the landing atop the kitchen stair and the main dining room in one direction, and a short hall leading to Mr. Glass' office and a stairway leading down to the wine cellar. One of the hoofponies was polishing the silver flatware in the dining room and took no notice of her, his magic holding up a white cloth with which he was vigorously rubbing a tarnished knife. She peered through the dining room to the main hall and saw no sign of the butler, so she turned and went down the hall. She swallowed hard, and knocked.
"Enter!" Mr. Glass' baritone rang out and she leaned into the heavy door, pushing it open. "What? This is some urgent matter, I take it?"
"Yes, Mr. Glass. Tell me, has Lady Rubymane returned from the village?"
His eyebrows rose slightly. "Certainly not! What do you mean, coming into my office like this with a silly question? Why, I should..." he blinked, looked around as if confused, then returned to his papers, ignoring her completely.
"Mr Glass!"
He stood up, surprised. "Don't you even knock? Where do you think you are, silly child, the maid's quarters? I'll have a word with Lady..." he paused, looked around, scratched his head, perplexed, then sat down again, returning to his sums.
The glamour! Now what do I do? She thought for a minute, then walked quietly back to the butler's pantry, where she had seen a small knife that Mr. Glass used to remove the wax seals from wine bottles before uncorking them. She reached back, grasped a lock of her tail and pulled it taught, cutting with a single motion of the sharp knife. She put it back in place, then wound the hairs into a crude yarn, knotting them at both ends. I hope this works.
She snuck back in, Mr. Glass entirely absorbed with his work, crept under his chair. She looped the lock of hair around his leg and knotted it.
"Eh, what's this?!" Mr Glass looked down under his chair, eyes bulging with outrage, then jumped up in surprise. "What! How did you... my door, open? What... where..." He stared at her, dumbfounded.
"I am so sorry, Mr. Glass, but this concerns her Ladyship's safety. Please trust me." Clementine looked up at and he stared down at her as though seeing her for the first time.
"What in Equestria is happening? Lady Rubymane is in danger?" All other concerns quickly fled from him.
"I do not know, Mr. Glass, but she teleported away while we were in the village and I have not seen her since." The alarm on his normally imperturbable face would be quite satisfying if the situation were less serious. "Somepony in the village mentioned her late husband's name, and she looked fit to blast him into the next world, right there. Then she vanished."
Mr. Glass closed his eyes, sat back heavily on his hindquarters, placed one hoof on his head and sighed. "Oh, by the sacred central sulcus of Celestia's left forehoof, please tell me this is some kind of horrible joke."
Clementine was faintly shocked by the nearly sacrilegious profanity, both due to the source and the subtlety, but she managed to answer, "I wish it were, Mr. Glass. Could she have teleported all the way from the village to the library?"
He nodded. "She could have when she was younger. By the supple flanks of..." he stopped, looking at the maid, who was listening intently. "...um, never you mind, child. She could be in there, and hurt. Or worse." His face took on an ashen tone. "That would have been a long distance twenty years ago. Now? Come on." He stood, slowly, dusted himself off and gathered his dignity. He looked down, annoyed at the hair knot, and reached towards it.
"Please leave that on Mr. Glass!"
"Whatever for? And why did you tie it to my leg?" He was puzzled, not angry now.
"I cannot say, only beg you to leave it on, for our Lady's sake!"
Something of the earnestness in her voice must have convinced him. "I shall have to find something with which to cover it, then. It is most irregular. But that can wait." He hurried off down the hall, through the dining room, past the astonished footpony, into the main hall and then to the library. The door to the library was closed, so he knocked. "My Lady? Are you within?"
No sound issued, so he turned the knob and entered, Clementine right behind. They both gasped. Lady Rubymane was lying curled up in her easy chair, her face gray, her eyes bloodshot, staring out the window at nothing. "Leave me. Nopony is to disturb me for any reason." She was shaking, clearly unwell, her voice a thin reed. She turned at them. "Did you not hear me?"
Mr. Glass swallowed. "My lady, I fear you are not yourself. You must rest and take nourishment. You teleported a great distance. I shall fetch a doctor at once."
"No doctor. No attendants. Begone from me." A weak coronal flame showed upon her horn and the remnants of great power glowed in her red-rimmed eyes. "Don't think I won't, Glass."
"My Lady! Please!" Clementine dashed forward to interpose herself. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't let myself be taken, none of this would have happened!"
Rubymane stopped glaring at the butler, her expression softening. "No, no child, this is not your fault. This is Lord Springheart's fault for leaving me. And when I see him, I'll give him a piece of my mind. But until that time... " She paused, thoughtful. "Glass, you are my witness. Upon my passing, my nephew will inherit this estate, but for the grants within my will. In addition, I grant Clementine the sum of one thousand bits, and all the books of my library, on the condition that she enter the Royal Academy when she is of age, and pursue her scholastic ambitions." She looked into the filly's eyes with love. "She is the grand daughter of my heart. Such is my desire and will. Do you bear witness to this, Glass?"
"Yes, my Lady, but surely..."
"Now, both of you, go! And none are to enter, on pain of my displeasure, until the undertaker comes for me. This life has finished with me."
"Lady Rubymane!" The tears flowed freely down Clementine's cheeks. "I love you! Please don't do this!"
Rubymane closed her eyes, causing the tears to flow down her own cheeks. "I'm sorry child, that I cannot keep my promise to you. Please, don't give me a reason to stay here, I can bear it no longer." With that, the nimbus glowed on her horn and on the lock of hair on her fetlock. The bracelet fell away, and Rubymane opened her eyes, looking into Clementine's own. Then, they slid away, blankly staring out the window. "Why are you still here, Glass? Is not my will clear? Begone, and do not come back, my friend."
Glass swallowed, and thickly spoke, "Yes, my dearest lady." He looked down at Clementine, confused at the sudden lack of regard that Rubymane had for her, then saw the wristlet of hair. His mouth opened in astonishment and Clementine could almost see the idea forming behind his eyes as the facts fell into place. His horn glowed and the lock of hair floated towards him as he backed away from the door, silently beckoning Clementine, who miserably dragged herself away from the elderly unicorn. Glass closed the door quietly, then leaned close in to Clementine.
He held up the hair. "Cookie doesn't need one of these, does she?" The maid shook her head, curiosity starting to peek out from under the deep anguish that blanketed her mind. "Unicorns don't notice you, do they?" She shook her head again, starting to speak, but he shushed her. "I don't need to know why. Plainly, Lady Rubymane doesn't want anypony else knowing about this." Again, she shook her head. Mr. Glass plainly was planning something. A ghost of a smile appeared on his muzzle.
"I need you, Clementine, to save Lady Rubymane's life."
Lady Rubymane cast about, looking for the intruder. "I know you must be in here! You keep bringing me food, to tempt me! Well, it's not going to work, I tell you!" The scent of the hot vegetable bullion wafted from the tray, causing her to nearly drool on herself as she looked at it through slitted eyes. There were salted crackers, as well, and a cup of soothing camomile tea. "Weak... I'm so weak."
Disgusted with herself, she gave in to her hunger and ate, slurping loudly, spilling some soup, leaving cracker crumbs around. She nearly threw her cup down as a gesture of defiance, but she knew there would be no point. As mysteriously as the food appeared, the spills, crumbs, and shards would vanish, to be replaced with some other temptation a few hours later.
Her stomach full, she grumbled and leaned back in her cushioned chair, the pillows having been plumped somehow. She gave a start, seeing one of her favorite crime thrillers, The Prench Connection, sitting on the end table. It had not been there a moment ago. The elderly unicorn sighed, shook her head and leaned back, the book floating before her eyes, escaping once more into the grim world of "Popeye" Soil, earth pony detective on the mean streets of Manehattan.
Clementine watched, perched on the window seat not five feet away. She had learned that by moving quietly and merely wishing not to be seen, she was practically invisible to not only Lady Rubymane, but to any unicorn. Having ascertained that her ladyship would not be in need of the commode, she quietly and carefully gathered the tray with the bowl, spoon and teacup out of the main part of the library.
Lady Rubymane had long since piled up furniture and heavy books against the doors leading to the main hall and the lumber room, but apparently did not know about the trap door in the small reading room where Clementine kept her desk. A network of servant's passages connected all the major rooms with the wine cellar, a secret known only the Mr. Glass, who swore her likewise to secrecy. When Lord Fire Opal first built the manor a hundred and fifty years ago, he had been of the opinion that servants were at their best when they literally sprang from nowhere when needed and vanished when that need no longer existed. Perhaps this was not a particularly great idea, as he came to a sticky end, dying mysteriously in his bedroom with no way for anypony to have gotten in or out, or at least none that the constabulary knew of.
This information was passed from butler to butler, and access was controlled through the wine cellar, of which the butler was practically lord and master. So this became the logical place for the two of them to scheme. She carried the tray down the small set of steps, reached back up and quietly closed the trapdoor, then carried the tray back to the cellar. It was dim and the ceiling was low, but a lantern hung on the wall at the halfway mark and provided sufficient illumination to make the transit safely. She emerged from the gloom of the tunnel into the gloom of the cellar, put the tray on one of the tables and then pulled a bellpull that rang in the butler's office. A minute later, Mr. Glass was there, a candle burning to provide some illumination, and a tray with what appeared to be a slice of apple pie and cheese and a mug of soft cider. These he placed before her on the table in the middle of the cellar as the light glimmered off hundreds of wine bottles in racks all around them.
"Bless you for a good pony, Mr. Glass. I was famished!" She picked up the cheese, took a bite, then took a fork to the pie, mixed the two in her mouth and sighed, washing down the mouthful with the cool cider. "Oh, that's good."
Mr. Glass nodded, smiling. Since they had entered into their conspiracy together, they had developed a more familiar relationship, at least when nopony else was around. As far as other members of the staff were concerned, Clementine was the only pony allowed in the library, and she took care of all of her ladyship's personal needs in her time of convalescence. That much was true and nopony needed to know any more details. She felt guilty about not telling Cookie the whole truth, but as Mr. Glass pointed out, it was not her truth to tell.
He let her take several more bites before asking, "Any news?"
"She threatens. She rages. She glares. But she eats, Mr. Glass. She drinks her tea." Clementine gestured at the empty bowl and cup. "I left her reading a novel. She looks so much better than she did this spring, but I fear that if we stopped, she would slip immediately into decline. She shows no sign of wishing to go out into the world."
It was summer now, and though it was cool in the cellar, in the rest of the house it was quite warm, so windows had been opened. But not in the library. The humidity would be bad for the books, but only Rubymane knew the air cooling spell, so it could get stifling. A drop of cooling perspiration ran down her back, making her shiver.
She told Mr. Glass of Lady Rubymane's condition, while Mr. Glass told her of the outside world. She knew that Mr. Glass had sent Thistlewhistle to care for Pansy Pea and sent a letter to summon the doctor. Pansy had recovered after several weeks and was working again in the gardens. Bumblebee attained his cutie mark, which was, to nopony's great surprise, a beehive, and he had been apprenticed in an apiary on the outskirts of Stablesboro. He promised to return when he had learned his craft, and set up beehives in Fetlock at his parents' old farm if the baroness would permit it.
As her ladyship had promised the village an ale, Mr. Glass took it upon himself to order up five casks from the Baltimare brewery for the solstice in celebration of Celestia's bright sun, paying for them out of his discretionary funds. He told all the other servants to attend and enjoy themselves, though of course he and Clementine stayed to care for Rubymane. He told her about the dancing and the pie eating contest and even about reports of an unseemly fight that broke out between Thistlewhistle and one of the maids. He was surprised when Clementine guessed that it was Gooseberry. He rolled his eyes at her and intoned, "Mares, what can you do?" to which she responded with gales of laughter. He was secretly quite droll.
Mr. Glass had been able to handle the finances up to a point, but with harvest fast approaching, so were taxes and dues and the renewal of licenses and charters, and he was simply not authorized for any of these functions. Her ladyship could either handle it herself, or formally appoint an estate manager, or else matters would simply start to go into arrears, with all the unpleasant repercussions thereof. So there was some more urgency in their recent discussions.
"You haven't found anything, a diary, letters, any kind of information that could help snap her out of this funk?" Glass looked down at columns of figures in his ledgers, budgeting the weekly grocery purchase based on the menu Cookie had provided. He was equipped for managing the manor, but not the entire estate, even if he had been given the authority.
She shook her head. "I have been searching, Mr. Glass, but the library has a lot of possible hiding places."
"You have to keep looking, my dear. I know I'm putting a lot on your young shoulders, but because of, well, whatever this is, you are the only pony who can help her, and frankly, help us." He paused, putting down the papers, and turned to face her, giving her his full attention. "I have noticed that you've grown in the past three months, emotionally as well as physically. I am very proud of you." She couldn't help but blush. "You are hard working, intelligent and resilient. You are discreet, and not selfish, greedy or haughty. You lack polish when it comes to the finer points of protocol, but that only comes with long experience. And in any event, protocol is not always our primary concern, as our current circumstances would indicate."
She sat quietly, wondering where this was leading. Mr. Glass was going with this. He hadn't been stinting of praise lately, but this felt like more of a summation than a pep talk.
He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a document that bore a seal, and passed it over to her. "I have made up an affidavit as to the amendment that Lady Rubymane made to her will, in what I consider to be her last moments of lucidity to date. This document affirms your inheritance of 1,000 bits, and all the books in the manor library, on condition of your application to the Royal Academy when you are of age. The age requirement, according to my research, is thirteen. You look to be about eight, is that correct?"
"I don't know, Mr. Glass. Cookie said I was less than two when she found me, and it's been six springs since then, so I'd say you're right."
He narrowed his eyes. "I know you believe that. I'm not certain that I do. You don't behave like any eight year old I've ever seen. I'm no magician, but I know that you are the subject, perhaps the victim, of a powerful spell, and spells can be used to alter appearance, including one's age."
She blinked. "But I have no memory of my life before I was taken in. The earliest thing I can remember is dropping a teacup in the kitchen that I was supposed to be washing and crying so hard I that my throat closed up. Then Cookie gave me a bit of honeycomb and washed my face after because I made a mess with it. And the tears were a mess too, I suppose. I must have been three or four."
He steepled his hooves thoughtfully. "I suppose memory could be altered too, though I've never heard about that. But as I said, I'm no magician. Who taught you to read?"
She stared at him. "I... I don't know. I suppose it must have been one of the staff, but I don't remember."
"As far as I know, I am the only member of the staff who can read, and it was not me."
Her brow furrowed. "You said that my appearance might had been altered as well as my age. What made you think of that?"
"As butler, I have long ears." One of his ears twitched, and Clementine smiled, lightening the mood. "I hear things, and I have heard some of the earth ponies remark upon the pretty unicorn maid with the golden hair who works in the library. I thought they were being sarcastic, quite frankly."
"Yes, and why should you not. Mr. Glass? My looks are nothing to write Princess Celestia about."
He rolled up his sleeve to show the bound lock of her hair, mousy and wiry, that he had moved from his rear leg to his right foreleg, in a place where it would not show under his jacket. "What does this look like to you?"
"A rat's tail that's been run over by an ox cart and left in the rain."
"Even so, it appears such to me. Now, please go to the far end of the cellar, over there. I shall go to the door."
She cocked an eyebrow at him, but stood from the remains of her snack and backed to the rear of the cellar as Glass walked to the door, taking the candle with him. He held up the candle to his arm. "What does it look like now?"
It was a distance of about twenty feet. She squinted and peered in the darkness at the lock, now illuminated by the candle. "That's odd. In the light, it almost looks like metal?"
"Gold. A shade of blonde I did not know was possible outside of story books. And wavy, not kinked and wiry." He took a few steps closer and the metallic effect vanished, her hair returned to its expected level of drab and unmanageable. "About five yards, I should say. That's the range of the alteration spell." His gravelly voice sounded like it was coming from every direction in the small room, as she walked shakily back to her seat, her eyes wide with shock.
"It makes sense now. Every now and then somepony... earth ponies! Always earth ponies! They would make some comment about my appearance, and I thought they were being kind, or mocking and cruel, depending on who it was. But they aren't affected by the... glamour." His eyebrows rose. "That's what Lady Rubymane called it. And I promised I'd never tell anypony about it, but I suppose I've broken that promise now."
"For the best of reasons, child. If child you are."
"The brigands, in the village. The ones who foalnapped me." Glass nodded. "Perhaps they didn't think I was as young as I appear."
"They were still scum, Clementine." His voice was firm. "Their end was well deserved, and of their own doing."
"I suppose so, but it makes more sense now. They said I was... filling out?"
"No, it makes no sense that they could see through an age spell but Cookie and the others here could not. Don't spare them any merciful thoughts, even if that were a reason to. Don't spare them any thoughts at all. The don't deserve any." He scowled, plainly angry, but not at her. "Besides, if you were filling out, as it were, you would be taller. I don't think an illusion could change the size of your clothes. Age-related spells are actual physical changes, from what I've read. Not that it's much." He sighed. "We should get you to an expert, but since Lady Rubymane is herself an expert and took no action to dispel this glamour as you call it, I can only think she has a very good reason."
"She did say that if I told anypony about it, she'd keep me in durance vile until my cuteceañera." They both chuckled.
"Who knows when that will be, or even if it has been? Does a reverse aging spell undo a cutie mark? Would your illusion cloak it? This is all quite beyond me." He shook his head in bewilderment. "What's important is finding out who you are, what happened to you, and what can be done about it, if anything. But there's one thing even more important than that."
"Seeing to her ladyship and getting her well again." Her voice was serious and quiet.
"Absolutely. We are united in purpose, my mysterious friend." He rose. "I will meet you back here after the first supper gong with more provisions. Oh! One more thing, I have a second copy of the testament to your legacy that I will keep in my records, but it would be good if this one could find its way into her ladyship's papers. In the eventuality that it might be needed before she recovers her faculties." He looked grim. "But as you said, you haven't found those. Even so, it would be better for this to be in the library, to help establish its provenance. Master Goldbolt is an empty-headed spendthrift, but not a villain from what I've been told. However, he may have grasping advisers who would challenge bequests to the staff."
She took the document, folded it and placed it in its envelope, then placed that in the pocket of her apron. "I don't care much for the bits, Mr. Glass, but the thought of her books being used as decoration in some foolish pony's library or sold to pay off gambling debts rather than being read and enjoyed is dreadful."
"I don't know if you understand, Clementine, but there are several books in that library worth more than a thousand bits and many dozens worth hundreds. According to my ledger, the value of the books in the library is in excess of twelve thousand bits. When the inevitable does happen, you will be quite a wealthy pony."
Twelve thousand bits? Clementine frowned. "That doesn't matter, since I would never sell them. In any case, I don't want to think about that."
"Just wanted to let you know where you stand."
"Thank you Mr. Glass. I must return to my lady." She stood and patted the envelope in her apron. "And thank you again, for this."
"No, Clementine, thank you." He stood and gave her a shallow bow. She smiled and replied with a curtsy, then opened the passage door, returning to the library.
As she closed the trap door behind her, she heard gentle snoring from the great chair. She crept past the elderly mage, lifted the hinged windowseat and took a blanket from within the storage compartment, carefully closed it and gingerly, tenderly laid the blanket across Lady Rubymane. Then, tempting fate, she kissed her gently on the cheek. The old unicorn stirred, but did not wake. There was, perhaps, a small smile that was not there before.
Now, if I were a baroness' paperwork, where would I be? A safe? I've never seen one. Her bedroom is utilitarian; everything she truly values she keeps here. She's a mage, so perhaps they're stored in a magic box somewhere. Hmm. She looked around the room for any square or rectangular objects she hadn't checked yet. There were numerous boxes, but most of them contained momentos of some sort or small precious objects, sometimes with notes as to their origin. Some were empty, presumably being containers for objets d'art that were on display. There were keys in one of the drawers of a small desk, and she had identified every key as belonging to a particular lock; all were accounted for. Nor were there any locks without keys. She had also practically disassembled that desk; there were no secret compartments within.
There were some unusual objects that appeared to serve no purpose and were not particularly decorative, but at least one contained a secret, of a sort. The small, grotesque bronze sculpture of a diamond dog that sat on the end table next to the reading chair had a base that unscrewed if you held the dog's foreleg down, but all it contained were a few hard candies that looked like they had been there for ten years. There was a horrible looking glass eyeball the size of your hoof that stared madly at you no matter what direction you turned it; the iris changed color as the angle did. And then there was a wooden, carved book, titled, Obscure Portents in raised letters. The workponyship was very fine, but it didn't appear to serve any purpose other than decorative, and it's not as though it would stand out as a decorative piece in a library.
So... the book. It could have documents in it. But if it's a magical lock, with an invisible key or something, it hardly matters. She stared at it, then walked to the west-facing window where the afternoon sun bathed the room in an orangey light. There was an incidental table there with a magnifying glass, and she lifted it to study the carving. She looked closely at it for several minutes, not certain what she was looking for. A hinge, a seam, a sliding piece of wood, anything. There must be some-ah! She looked at the letters and noticed that the raised edge of the first letters of both words were lighter in color than the others. Wear? She pressed down on the "O" in Obscure and the "P" in Portents and heard a quiet snap inside. Yes! She looked, but didn't see any other change; no drawer popped out or hinge opened. For several minutes she pushed, twisted and slid the surfaces in futility.
Oh! Ha ha! She pressed down on the "e" and "n" in Portents and there was a second snap. The bottom part of the book slid out easily, revealing a velvet-lined chamber within that contained documents and other objects wrapped in cloth to muffle and protect them. There was indeed a copy of the will inside, as well as newspaper articles about her husband and children, a small book with an illustration of a ship in a storm titled Sea Spray and Cold Iron, and a number of miniature paintings of her handsome husband Lord Springheart, her gallant son Galeheart in his dashing uniform, her daughter Softmane, who was quite pretty but apparently felt the need to wear glasses and read a book while posing for her portrait -you show 'em, sister- and lastly one of Rubymane herself, in the full flower of her beauty.
But great beauty though she was, the pony she was painted beside undeniably outshone her. They were seated together at a table, playing a game of chess, the other player nearly a head taller, even seated. A gold crown rode her brow and violet eyes sparkled merrily under a mane that seemed to glow and blow in a wind that came from another world. By Celestia, that's... Celestia!
She placed all the miniatures carefully down, then picked up the one of the royal chess game, looking at it with the magnifying glass. The workmanship of this one was clearly superior; presumably it was Celestia's own artist who painted it. It was older than the others; Lady Rubymane appeared to be barely out of her teens, her green eyes with highlights of gold and the texture of her lustrous eponymous mane picked out exquisitely despite the small size of the picture. With a finely crafted gold frame, it fit neatly on her hoof. It wasn't just the artistry either; she could swear the picture moved. That pawn was definitely not in Lady Rubymane's hoof when I first looked at it!
She watched, fascinated, as the scene slowly changed in subtle ways, the expressions changing from laughter to concentration as they considered moves, the pieces being taken on either side, and always, Celestia's multicolored mane waving as though blown by the ether. She looked up with a start and realized the light was starting to fade, and she didn't want to light any lamps or candles as that could upset her mistress. Let me see these newspaper clippings. Oh. They're obituaries. She read of the accomplishments and tragic deaths of Rubymane's children, Galeheart in a useless skirmish with some dragon brigands, and Softmane in a tragic laboratory accident, after somepony had mislabeled a bottle of chemicals she was using to dope a new kind of optical glass. She winced at the thought. Finally, she read the obituary for Lord Springheart, written by the princess herself, and realized why Rubymane never appeared to have guests. She has been in official mourning for ten years. Then, an idea struck.
She wrapped the pictures up and carefully placed them, the will, the book, and after a moment, the envelope with the testament to her own bequest into the puzzle box, then closed it. It didn't latch until she pressed the "O" and "P" again while pushing upward on the bottom of the box. That's why there's more wear on those letters than the "e" and "n." She placed the box back where she had found it, then went to her own small writing desk, took out paper, pen and ink, and lit the lamp. If she wakes, she shouldn't see it in here from her chair. She started to write.
Dear Princess Celestia,
I am Lady Rubymane's maid, Clementine, and I apologize for writing to your highness unbidden, but my lady is in a bad way. She has been mourning the loss of her husband for ten years, and now, after simply hearing his name mentioned, she has locked herself away in her library and is attempting to refuse all food and drink. She has stated that she wants to be left alone to die.
I love her, all her servants do, and the ponies down in the villages miss her. I read the obituary you wrote for Lord Springheart, and I know that you and she were close when she was young, so please, your highness, could you give me some advice on how to help her? Forgive my presumption, but I must beg the favor of a reply.
Your humble and obedient subject,
She shook sand onto the paper to dry the ink, then blotted it. She folded it, placed it in an envelope, and addressed it to "Her Majesty, Princess Celestia, Canterlot Castle." Then she melted some red wax onto the edge of the envelope and pressed Lady Rubymane's seal into it, impressing the waxen blob with the coat of arms of Sparoak, which consisted of a ship and a book. She inhaled the sweet smell of the beeswax. A letter from some maid would find its way to the bottom of a stack somewhere on some clerk's desk, but one bearing Lady Rubymane's seal may be delivered to the princess herself. Or at least I hope so. It's a minor deception at worst. But how do I get this to Canterlot?
She briefly considered asking Mr. Glass, but something in one of the adventure novels she had read made her hesitate. He may need "plausible deniability." If somepony at the palace took offense, or if Lady Rubymane were to consider this to be disloyalty or interference, better it be the young maid nopony can seem to remember.
She started walking around, looking at the books on the shelves. Lady Rubymane had instructed her as to her library management system, with novels arranged by author's name and title on the shelves to the right of the sitting window, where guests would be most likely to peruse, at least when she had guests, with poetry, histories, biographies, magical research materials, reference books, classroom textbooks, and finally miscellaneous works and foreign language books being on bookcases progressively further back in the room. There was even a case made with diagonally crossed planks used to store old scrolls, the oldest protected with cylindrical copper cases coated in a lovely verdigris.
So... reference books. Dictionaries, thesauruses, atlases, seventeen volumes of Encyclopedia Equestriana, the Earth Pony Almanacs from Anno Celestia 461 through 474, The Laws and Regulations of Equestria... let's see. She took down three large tomes, the first of which appeared to be hundreds of years old, the other two more recent, and took them back to her nook. She groaned when she realized the first book, Lex Equorum, was written in Old Ponish. With the aid of her Old Ponish-Equestrian dictionary, she could slowly pick her way through the ancient tongue on simple subjects, but reading a law book written in it was out of the question. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized the second book was an Equestrian translation of the original, and the third, even better, was a modern revision with an index. She turned to the back.
Mail... M... M... M... here it is, Mail, Royal. Title 8, Chapter 72, pp 240-296. She turned to page 240 and saw list of dozens of subheadings, each beginning with a number marked with an odd squiggle she hadn't seen before. They covered all manner of manner of circumstances including the disposition of lost mail, penal codes for tampering with and theft of mail, specific penalties for assaults on Her Highness' Royal Postponies, the issuance of stamps, the construction and management of post offices, and many more. A section labeled "Rural Post Offices" caught her scanning eye, and she turned to squiggle 1285 on page 267, and saw that it too was broken down into numbered paragraphs with lettered sub-paragraphs.
§ 1285 - Rural Post Offices
Each County, Barony or March outside of city or town postal service zones which has a resident population of no less than 100 ponies shall have constructed within the demesne of the responsible peer one post office to be made available for public use.
a. The post office will be operated by a rural postmaster or mistress, a Royal Officer with all the privileges and duties that entails.in perpetuam from the demesne of the estate in return for the sum of one bit per annum .
The rural post office will be located within the largest permanent settlement within the demesne.
a. The building site will be in a central location on a leveled and cleared lot no less than 20 yards by 10 yards.
The tall platform on that rooftop in Fetlock must be where the post office is! She spent a few minutes randomly reading about required hours of operation, stamps, rates, delivery schedules, post office inspections, penalties for mail fraud, items required to be prominently displayed in a post office and a few other sections that caught her eye. They seem to have rules for every possible eventuality in here! The first gong sounded, so she stopped in her perusal of postal regulatory minutiae, restored the books to their proper places, and checked on Lady Rubymane, who slept soundly.
She snuck back to the wine cellar and Mr. Glass was already there, waiting with a basket containing vegetables and some dipping sauces for her ladyship, and a bowl with a hearty bean salad and another glass of cold cider for Clementine. She thanked him and dug in, but as he left to go, she stopped eating and said, "Mr. Glass, would it be alright for me to run down to Fetlock tomorrow? Just for a short while; it's not like Lady Rubymane would miss me."
He raised an eyebrow. "Whatever for?"
"I was wondering if Callie Flour might know of any herbs or plants that could help speed her ladyship's recovery. Perhaps we could try adding something to stimulate her appetite, maybe give her more energy." A lie, but for the best of reasons. Or maybe a half-truth; I'll still visit Callie Flour.
He pursed his lips. "It's worth exploring. Just don't be long, please, and be careful. You're the only pony who can care for her."
She felt sick to her stomach. The bean salad had been very appetizing before, but now she had to stop herself from pushing it away. "Yes, Mr. Glass. I'll be careful."
"In that case, here." He placed the key to the cellar door on the table. "Lock the cellar door behind me when I leave. You can give it back to me when your errand is finished."
Her heart skipped a beat as shame blossomed within her. "Mr. Glass!"
"Not to worry, I'll use the spare in the meantime. I don't think I have to worry about you raiding the cellar in any event." With that he nodded and withdrew to join the rest of the staff at dinner, while Clementine's stomach roiled. She forced herself to eat, knowing she'd need the energy tomorrow, then returned to the library and, after checking on Rubymane, laid down on the windowseat cushion and watched her lady, trying not to think about lying to her friend, until she could no longer keep her eyes open.
Clementine rose in the gray of pre-dawn, to see that Rubymane had also awoken and was looking about the library. She was tearfully sniffing as was often the case when she woke and, perhaps, had brought an end to dreams of her lost family. A certain odor in the air informed Clementine that the commode had been used, so she moved slowly to the corner where it had been placed, took the covered bucket from under the seat and made her way to the wine cellar. She almost rang for Mr. Glass when she remembered she had been entrusted with the key. She flushed hot with shame at the reminder.
She let herself out and carried the nightsoil out into the main hall and into to the discreetly placed garderobe, where she disposed of it, taking some scented water from a pitcher placed on a stand next to the garderobe box seat and swirling it about the bucket until it was clean and the smell much diminished. She then relieved herself and washed up with the scented water, carrying the bucket back through its circumloculous route to put it back in place.
She then returned to the kitchen to fetch breakfast for the lady. It's nice not to have to wait for Mr. Glass to let me in and out of the cellar. Must be more convenient for him as well. She left the porridge, some apple slices and a glass of milk, smiling when Rubymane noticed them and, after some huffing and groaning, gave in again to her stomach's needs.
Clementine returned to the kitchen and quickly downed some porridge for herself, grunting morning greetings to the new pot pony and giving a hug to Cookie when she ran into her on the way to their shared rooms. "Child! Where are ye goin now!?"
"Cookie, I'm so sorry but it's something important for her ladyship. I promise to explain it all as soon as I can!" The earth pony's face fell. "I mean... as soon as I'm allowed to."
"Allowed... oh, I see. Well, yer gettin' bigger now I can see, and carrying some burdens maybe only those upstairs carry, eh?"
"Yes, something like that. I love you!" She kissed the now mollified cook on the cheek and ran into the bedroom, where she quickly got out of her uniform and changed into a simple traveling frock. It was too warm for a cloak, and she'd be less likely to attract attention than she would in her uniform. She took the letter out of her apron and stuck it into a cloth tote that she slung over her shoulder, then bounded out back through the kitchen, waving to the staff, to exit through the house via the herb garden door.
She had been taking opportunities to run around the manorial grounds, along the inside of the fenceline, to try to get herself into better shape whenever possible for the past three months. That translated into roughly 20 minutes of running, or short runs broken up by trotting, about three times a week. Lately, the amount of time she had to spend trotting had been diminishing, though she found that the shortness of the course and the obstacles that got in her way tended to break her stride. When she saw the road down to the village open before her on a clear, cool morning, she smiled and broke out into a true gallop for the first time ever.
This is wonderful! The four-beat rhythm seemed more natural to her than the constrained, three-beat rhythm of the canter. She found her body at full extension in mid-air and whinnied in delight as she plunged down the track. After about two minutes of wild downhill abandon, she slowed to a canter as she came to the first curve, not wanting to risk dashing headlong into a cart or some messenger pony running up from the village. It was only then that she felt the burn in her lungs, her sides, in leg and shoulder muscles she'd never used before. The ache was glorious.
Her conscience cautioned her not to overdo it, as she was the only servant able to effectively deal with Lady Rubymane at the moment, so she was more restrained on the second straightaway. This part of the road was more level and also more rutted from wagons, as the village's outlying farms started popping up. She galloped, but did not reach for full extension, just doing what she had to in order to keep that four-beat rhythm thrumming. She felt herself warming up as her heart beat, fast and strong, controlling her breathing as she had read in A Student Athlete's Guide to Kinesthetics . This was the longest straightaway of the road, an elevated section with fields on either side and the remains of wooden rails that must have been damaged by the flooding.
The road turned from packed earth to bare cobbles at the lowest point, where perhaps the entire road had washed away in the floods and been repaired. Her hooves came down on the stones with sharp retorts. At first she just listened with interest as the road conditions changed but then she started to feel pain in her hooves and more particularly her pasterns, the part of her legs immediately above her hooves. She slowed down and then stopped entirely, suddenly realizing she had to limp on her rear left leg. She gingerly put weight on it and winced as pain shot all the way up her hindquarters. Idiot! "Always consider your surface when choosing a pace." Well, now I really DO have a reason to see Callie Flour.
She sighed, looking at the remaining distance to the next turn. What had before seemed like a minute of near flight now took four minutes of slow, painful walking. The turn was an other two minutes of limping, taking care not to turn her pastern in the deep ruts that maneuvering carts had left behind, and then she was able to see the village, another half mile down the road. The post office Pegasus Express platform was visible, but it was another fifteen slow minutes of painful boredom before she got to the first cottages. Callie Flour's cottage was to the right, the post office to the left. She figured she better take care of the letter first, and hobbled her way to the door of the small building. The door was closed and locked, and this surprised her, given that post offices were supposed to be open during daylight hours.
She knocked on the door. "Hello?" She knocked louder. "Hello? Postmaster? Postmistress? Hello?!"
An old earth pony stallion with a deep red coat and a stringy gray mane, missing most of his teeth, came ambling around the corner of the building. "'M'lady, wotcher doin' out 'ere by yerself beatin' on yon doorway and wakin' old ponies from their, ah, after-breakfast nap?"
"Oh, I'm not... ah, that is to say, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Are you the postmaster?"
The old steed gave out a half-laugh, half-cough. "Ooo, me? Oi, that's rich, m'lady! Nah, ol' Barley Barrel is just a pensioner, ya see, barely scrapin' by, 'ardly enough bits ta keep body an' soul tegether, see?"
"Oh, I, ah, I see, yes. Do you know where I might find the Postmaster, er, or Postmistress? The office should be open at this hour." She smiled, hoping for charm but not really knowing what effect her smile might have, never having thought much of it herself when seeing it in a mirror.
"Weeeeeell, Gravelgrit be 'ere, an' 'e be ain't 'ere, if ya take my meanin', m'lady."
What kind of a name is Gravelgrit? "I... don't think I do, Goodcolt Barley Barrel."
"Well, that is ta say, I think I may know whereabouts 'e might be if I could only remember, but a bit o' ale is always good illubrigation for the ol' poll," he said, tapping the top of his head.
Illumination? Lubrication? Irrigation? "Ale? But it-it-it's just after breakfast."
"Yes m'lady, and I find that me memory go all a-scattery after a breakfast, but an ale, that's wat line up all 'em times an' places an' ponies an' all.
"But is there an alehouse open at this hour?" She looked about in confusion. As far as she knew from her reading, any alehouse would only be open in the evening hours, after the fieldponies returned from work.
"Weeeeeell, m'lady," he said with a gap-toothed grin, "it ain't the ale really, so much as the anticipation, the expectation, the coming consumption of the ale, ya see, that would set me ol' mind in proper workin' order."
Those are some impressive words for a pensioned field hand. "So..." she frowned for a moment, then continued, "you want me to bribe you?"
He drew back as if slapped. "M'lady, you do me a grave injustice, ya do! A bribe? Why 'tis a corruptified dishonestry! A bit 'o ale money ain't no bribe, it's more like, due renumberation. A fair wage for services renderized. A... an honorable terrarium!" He smiled roguishly at that and she had to fight hard not to giggle.
"I'm so sorry, Goodcolt Barley, but I am just a poor servant out about her mistress' business and I've not a bit to spare. Could you aid a maid in distress?" She tilted her head down and looked up with the most soulful expression she could muster, blinking what she hoped looked like long, thick eyelashes over eyes of deepest amethyst. She winced as her weight shifted and looked down at her injured leg.
"You're hurt!" Concern shown briefly in his eyes. "Er... you've a managed to put some hurteratin' on that there hooflebone, I sees. Allowify me, m'la... er.. m'maidy?" At that she did giggle, lifting the injured pastern so that he could see. "A sprainified hooflebone!" His voice got quieter as he leaned in. "You have a sprained pastern miss, and you'll need to get it iced and elevated. And I'll kiss my own croup if there's any ice in this metropolis."
She whispered in reply, "You sir, are an educated gentlepony." This close, she could see that his missing teeth were actually blacked out and he didn't smell like an ale-soaked pensioner; in fact he wasn't even all that old - his mane had been painted and lines around his face added with a pencil. "Who are you, and what are you doing here? Are you a spy from Bee's Cove here to evaluate the hops harvest? An adjunct professor taken to the road after spending too much time adjacent to the department chairpony's daughter?"
At that, he chuckled. "Just a beggar who goes from village to village, never spending too much time in one place." Placing her hoof down gently, he continued quietly, "Miss, you can't walk on that. Please wait here, I'll go fetch that reprobate Gravelguts for you. He'll be at the fishing hole."
"And your honorarium?" She was smiling broadly at him.
"Well, ah," his volume increased, "it wouldn't be right ta take advantageous of a filly out an' about on 'er mistresses' busyness an' all that, an 'er 'injurificated. Ol' Barley Barrel may be downish an' outish, but 'e ain't never done what ain't right. Mostly."
Now a chuckle came bubbling up out of her belly, a real one, that broke out of her throat and seemed to release the tension she'd been feeling for the past few months. She felt an irresistible impulse and leaned forward to kiss the rogue on his cheek, which felt soft and warm under her lips, even as he stiffened in surprise. She pulled back after a moment and smiled at him, making direct eye contact.
He stared back, his cheeks flaring red as his hoof went up to gently touch his cheek, where some makeup had rubbed off. He brushed it smooth, his mouth hanging open, his green eyes bright with amazement. His eyes! He's not much older than I am! Well, as much as I could be, in theory anyway.
He looked around, then leaned back to whisper in her ear. "You are really much too young to be kissing anypony except your immediate kinfolk!" There was some anger in his voice, but also concern, like he was an older brother scolding a little sister.
"But I don't have any kinfolk, and I have to kiss somepony. Don't I?" She felt totally safe with this pony for some reason, and she wanted to pay him back for his attempt at deception, humorous though it was. "Anyway, I'm older than I look. At least I think I am."
"Oh no no no no no! Bad filly! As if I never heard that one before!" He scowled at her. She looked down, suddenly quiet and not smiling. "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean... you're very pretty. Beautiful, actually. When you grow up, you'll break every heart from here to Canterlot, and I'm not just saying that. But if you go around teasing grown stallions at your age, something awful might happen."
"You're not like them. Like that, I mean." She wiped her mouth at the memory of stale ale, her lips being forced open, her useless horn being twisted. "You'd never hurt me. I feel safe with you."
"You're right, I wouldn't." His face was suddenly inscrutable. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
"I didn't tease them. I was just fetching water." She felt suddenly wretched.
"Who? Somepony around here?" He scowled, and she realized while she felt safe with him, he was nopony to be trifled with. He had gone to a state of full alertness, and the way he carried himself spoke of unusual strength and agility. Is he a soldier? He's not very tall or bulky.
"Not anymore. They're gone." She looked at him seriously, feeling somewhat better than she did a moment before, but not wanting to tell him that she was involved, however tangentially, in two deaths. "They won't be back."
"Good. Are you alright then?" She nodded and smiled, though it was a sadder sort of smile now. "Very well. I'll fetch the Postmaster and be back in about ten minutes. Stay here, don't wander and don't kiss any stallions until I get back." His eyes bulged and he blushed. "Or after I get back either!" She giggled again and fluttered her putative lashes at him. He rolled his eyes and turned, trotting off to the woods to the northwest.
She waited, imagining what he might look like out of his disguise, this mysterious, chivalrous and humorous earth pony. I shouldn't have done that to him, but it was so much fun! Until it got weird. Who am I kidding; I'm just a filly, and he's a grown up stallion of the world. He's probably romanced a dozen mares. With those sparkling green eyes of his. And those cheekbones. And those lean muscles... right. Multiplication tables, Clementine! One times one is one, one times two is two... She sat down and took a load off her sprained pastern.
By the time she was multiplying forty nine by seven, a shape appeared above the treeline and flew towards her. A pegasus, of course! She had seen pegasi messengers before at the manor house and had read about them in books, but she'd never met one. Pegasus characters in novels she had read tended to be boastful, lazy, and prone to pranking, but they were also brave, honest and loyal, which of course must just be a literary stereotype. In real life, individual pegasi would be a different and varied as unicorns and earth ponies. This pegasus must be judged on his merits. Wait a second, pegasi don't have talons! Her heart leapt to her throat; griffin characters had a rather different literary tradition than pegasi.
The griffin landed before her, the claws on his feet digging deep into the grass. He glared at her, the smell of fish emanating from his sharp, hooked beak. Carnivore! "Well?!" His voice was grating and unpleasant. "What is it?!"
She looked up, more frightened than at any time in her life. Even the thugs were just ponies, but this... creature... could literally tear her to pieces. According to A History of Pre-Celestial Equestria , the Griffin Wars were savage, with barbaric griffin raiders often carrying off ponies they caught alone.
"Out with it filly! You interrupted my piscatorial endeavors!" His eyes were a deep garnet under furrowed black browfeathers. The ruff of his neck puffed up with irritation as he glared at her, while her heart pounded and the world seemed to shrink until it contained only prey and predator. This is ridiculous, he's a Postmaster not a predator!
"I, ah, I have a l-letter to post, P-postmaster!"
"A la-la-letter to po-po-post for the po-po-postmaster? Well, what else would you be doing ha-ha-here!?" He sneered, his beak nearly touching her muzzle.
Her ears went flat and she stood up, her eyes narrowing as she ignored her throbbing leg. He's just a bully and this is quite enough! "If your post office had been open like it was supposed to be at this hour, I wouldn't have interrupted your fishing, because you would have been at your... po-po-post!" She spat out the words. He's a shirker!
The griffin blinked in surprise. "Well, well, well! And I suppose you are the one to tell me what hours my post office is supposed to be open?"
"Title 8, Chapter 72, Subchapter 1285, Part 6, Subpart c: Rural post offices shall be open for business to the public from Moonday through Foalday, with the exception of public holidays, from one hour past sunrise to one hour past sunset, being closed for lunch for one hour starting at noon! Is it noon yet? Subpart d: On days and at times when the Postmaster or mistress is not available to keep the office open for any reason, public notice must be posted on the post office notice board! Part 5, Subpart j: The Postmaster or mistress will maintain a prominently marked notice board for the use of official and community announcements visible from the street near the front entrance to the post office! "
As she began her bureaucratic tirade, without realizing it, she had advanced towards the griffin, her horn lowered and in his face. He had backed instinctively at first, and she continued to advance, and with every regulation quoted, the griffin seemed to shrink, his eyes getting bigger, his beak hanging open. She pressed forward, the righteous indignation flowing through her veins anesthetizing her sprained pastern. She waved a forehoof at the blank wall of the post office.
"How is anypony supposed to even know this is a post office? There's no notice board! There's not even a Royal Mail emblem mounted on the doorway as specified per Part 2 subpart f!"
The miserable griffin was practically cringing before her by the time Barley Barrel, or whoever he was, ambled up to them. The Postmaster turned and growled at him, "This is the filly in distress!? You set me up! Celestia is using fillies for Postal Inspectors now! I'm finished! I'll have to go back to Griffonstone in disgrace!" He laid his head on the grass and covered his face, peering up at her between his talons. "Please Inspector, please don't fire me! I'll do a better job, I promise! It's just so boring here! Weeks go by with no letters! No creatures in these parts even read much less write letters! I'm sorry!"
Barley stared at her, his mouth hanging open, as she stood over the groveling griffin. She turned her eyes to him, then back at the griffin, then back at him, and slowly the anger faded from her. She looked back at the griffin, a small grin on her face, then covered her mouth to cover a giggle. Then Barley started to giggle, and it escalated until they were both sitting down laughing belly laughs while the griffin sat up, simultaneously puzzled, indignant and hopeful for reprieve.
"I never said," Clementine laughed, "that I was a po-po-postal inspector!" At that the griffin signed with relief, then joined in the laughter.
"Oh by my tailfeathers, I saw my pension flashing before my eyes!" That provoked more laughter. "I'm sorry, I'm just a mean old buzzard, and I had just hooked a big one and had to let it go, so I was cross. How did you know all that chapter and verse?"
"Well, I'm a... an egghead. I wanted to know how to post a letter and I just... read a bit too much about it, I suppose. Sorry, postmaster, I didn't mean to be disrespectful."
"Oh no, not at all! I love a good argument, and you are a hundred percent right! I should have put a notice up, but I figured any creature that wanted me would know where to find me. Just a second." He stood, walked to the front of the building, and taking a key he had on a loop of string around his neck, unlocked the door. He then dashed inside and in a moment emerged wearing a blue coat and a blue cap with a shiny badge on it. "The post office is now officially opened for business, Postmaster Gravelgrit, at your service." He raised his cap and bowed.
She curtsied and winced, then announced, "Clementine, maid of Lady Rubymane's library."
Gravelgrit stood up straight. "Oh, this is on her ladyship's business? You're her librarian!? Then I am deeply sorry, I meant no disrespect. It's been many months since I've had a letter from the manor! Come, come, the customer service desk is in here!" As he motioned for her to enter, she realized Barley Barrel had come up beside her to offer her his shoulder, so she gratefully leaned on it. She limped inside as gracefully as her injury would allow.
Inside, the office was orderly, if a bit dusty. Indeed, it seemed barely used. "It's just as I pictured it would be! Though perhaps it could use the touch of a maid's hoof." She coughed as she wiped a cobweb off the rate chart that was displayed on the wall in accordance with Title 8, Chapter 72, Subchapter 1285, Part 7, Subpart a.
"Sorry miss, there's so little call for my services for the past few years that I feel like I'm tidying up for no reason. Wait, you're the filly who came with her ladyship three months ago, aren't you? I heard about that. Bad business. Are you alright? Is she alright?" She nodded dumbly, not wanting to give out any information that wasn't necessary.
"Wotcher yakkin' about, featherduster?" Barley Barrel looked at the Postmaster with interest.
Gravelgrit harrumphed and gave a side-eye glare in response. "Tramps should speak to Royal Officers with a bit of respect."
"Beggin' yer pardon, yer Royal Officiousness. What happened?"
"A misunderstanding, that's all." Clementine interrupted, taking out the letter. "I'd like to post this for the Pegasus Express please. The rate to Canterlot is twelve bits," she said, pointing to the chart.
"A misunderstanding?" The griffin's browfeathers rose. "Well, if you say so. But I heard Lady Rubymane was set to blast a hole a yard wide through Sourhops when she just vanished!" Barley Barrel blinked in surprise, then turned to Clementine.
"An exaggeration by over-excited field workers, I'm sure." She waved the letter at the Postmaster. "Please, I'd like to make the next carrier if I may."
"Canterlot you say? It's not one of those Dear Princess Celestia letters, is it?" Clementine cringed inside, but maintained her sangfroid . "The central office gets thousands of... oh! The baronial seal! Well then, of course miss! Let me get up on the roof and get the smudge pot going; the inbound carrier should still be coming up the coast before she makes her turn after Baltimare. And don't worry about the bits, I'll just send the bill to Mr. Glass."
She swallowed. "That isn't necessary. Mr. Glass... well, I'll just say I'm going to pay in bits now, if that's alright."
The griffin stopped his turn midway and slowly faced her. "So... some library intrigue is it? Baroness doesn't want the butler to know? She thinking about replacing him?"
"Oh goodness, nothing like that!" Her eyes widened in shock. "It's just a matter of... some discretion?" She shrugged, smiling.
"Well, that isn't the usual arrangement, but there's no regulation against it. Still, good luck to the Baroness with keeping secrets from her butler. Glass is a sharp one." The griffin took the proffered bits and dropped them into a slot behind the counter, clinking as they hit the bottom of some metal container. He then took a scrap of paper, wrote out a receipt to Lady Rubymane for twelve bits with a quill that looked a lot like one of his own pinfeathers, and gave it to Clementine.
"Thank you." She breathed a sigh of relief and placed the receipt in the pocket of her frock.
"Let me go up and get the pot going. You can watch the proceedings from outside if you like." The postmaster turned and went into the sorting room, closing the door behind him, while Clementine and Barley Barrel went outside, crossed the street and looked up at the platform.
She could see that a line of black smoke had started to issue from the top of the platform while Gravelgrit flew above it, fanning something with his wings. In a few moments, the smoke started to truly billow, a thick black roil rising and streaming north with the wind. There were two posts at either end of the western side of the platform and she saw the griffin place a heavy cloth bag on the one on northern end. Then Gravelgrit came swooping down to them. "May be a while, depends on... oh, she must have a tailwind, look to the south!"
They looked southward and realized that some of the clouds seemed to be moving. In fact, they were breaking up into streaks, and there seemed to be a long thin cloud streaming towards them. In a few moments, she could make out a small dot that seemed to be diving right at them, leaving behind a streak of white vapor. As the dot lost altitude it grew, becoming a streak of orange, blue and violet. She heard a loud sound like a breathy whistle, and then, in the last second, when the streak flashed past her eyes and flew across the level of the platform, she could make out a pegasus with an orange coat and a violet mane and tail, wearing goggles and a blue vest with what might have been a gold badge. The messenger appeared to be carrying two satchels similar to the one on the post at the end of the platform.
The speeding pegasus never even slowed down; she was suddenly rising with breathtaking speed off to the northwest, the black smoke from the smudgepot sucked into vortexes spiraling in her wake as the whistling sound deepened in pitch to more of a roar that diminished as the she climbed to the clouds. Clementine felt light headed and suddenly realized she had forgotten to breathe. She gasped as Gravelgrit chucked. "Quite a sight, isn't it miss?"
"Yes, it certainly is! I thought for sure she'd crash! But did she take the message?" She pointed her hoof at the platform where a bag hung on one of the posts.
"Sure did; that's the inbound post. The outbound post is empty, see?" The griffin waggled a wing at the north end of the tower. "Of course, that's only the inbound post in the morning. In the afternoon, the outbound carrier picks up from the north post and drops off on the south post, at least when there's a message."
"So there's mail?"
"Probably not. It's probably empty. Don't get much from Baltimare. Don't get much from Canterlot either, except for official notices and such. The occasional parcel. She'll be carrying two bags, one with the inbound mail and one with mail for local drop off. If there's no dropoff, it will be empty. She'll switch letters and parcels between the bags when she's gliding up there, so the next stop will get either get its allotted mail or an empty bag. I'll just go up and make sure."
With a few wingstrokes he flew up, then picked up the bag, looked into it and moved to the post on the north side, then he flew back down. "Nope, nothing. Well miss, I hope you were impressed by the efficient functioning of the Royal Mail's Pegasus Express. Will there be anything else?"
"That was most impressive, actually." It really was! "But you never do know when a real postal inspector might show up, and I wouldn't want you to lose your job, Postmaster Gravelgrit. Will you take care of the notice board and the emblem?"
The griffin looked thoughtful for a moment. "You're right. I haven't been inspected since the rains and flood washed away the old board and emblem... was it four years ago? So I'm really overdue. I'll have to send a request for replacements. It's not putting them up that's the bother, it's all the paperwork. But I better get to it. Thank you miss, I wish you a good day." He smiled and nodded, then turn to Barley Barrel and frowned. "You too, I suppose."
"Many bureaucratizin' enjoyfications to you and your paperywork there, Gravelguts!" The griffin harrumphed, then winked at Clementine before turning, stomping into the office and slamming the door shut.
She gave Barley Barrel a knowing look, to which he responded by crossing his eyes, making her giggle again. Nopony has ever made me laugh so! "You're just terrible!" she said, smiling.
"Indeed, young miss; a rogue, charlatan and palaverer of the first water. Now what are we going to do with that pastern of yours?"
"Well, I needed to see Callie Flour about something anyway, could you help me to her cottage?"
"That's assuming she's in. She may be out gathering her herbs, eye of newt, wart of toad and whatnot. Just stay here for a moment, I'll be right back." With that, he bounded off and fairly leapt into a bush. There was a moment of bustle and activity beneath the branches and leaves, and suddenly he leapt out, dressed in the most outlandish costume she could have ever imagined; every color that ever was and should never have been next to its neighbor rioted in a diamond pattern on a form fitting bodysuit, a bright scarlet cape on his shoulders. A hat in the shape of two curling black and white horns crowned his head and he had a domino mask over his eyes.
"Buon giorno, signorina!" He swept his cape and made a courtly leg at her. "Allow me to come to your rescue! As you can see by my cart, I am..." He swept his foreleg in a grand gesture, then turned, and seeing no cart, smiled at her as she stared in amazement and confusion. "Uno momento, por favor, bella signorina." He dove back into the bush and, after more moving and shaking, popped out, harnessed to a tall four-wheel cart that was painted in bright vertical stripes of every primary color and read "Giacolto di Naponi" in gilt letters along the side. It was especially strange because the cart was considerably larger than the bush from whence it had emerged. "I am Giacolto!"
She blinked silently, her brain valiantly trying to process what she had just seen. "This is the exact opposite of not attracting attention," she said numbly.
"Indeed! I am Giacolto, from the lovely and distant country of Naponi, on the tip of the Bitalian Poninsula!" He drew the cart, which sported a hundred bells that rang with every step, around to her side. "Please, to allow me, signorina!" There was a seat at the front of the cart, and he helped her step up to it. She sat, stunned and uncomprehending. "Now, to Signora Flour's!"
"How is this even possible? Is it magic? Is this an enchanted cart? Are you some kind of sorcerer?"
He stopped, then dropped the traces of the cart, and whirled around, his cape continuing after he stopped, to wrap around his face. Stunned though she was, Clementine burst out laughing as he comically untangled himself, then smiled and bowed. "Signorina, you have the privilege of seeing before you, the incomparable Giacolto, party pony to the courts of Bitaly, come now for the first time to Equestria!" He bowed deeply and applause seemed to come from nowhere, roses being thrown from some invisible audience just outside of the limits of her peripheral vision. He bent over to pick one up and rolled into a somersault, suddenly before her, placing a whole bouquet in her hooves. He tumbled back and yelped, turning to reveal a rose stuck to his hindquarters with a thorn. She howled with laughter as he chased his tail around in a whirl of insane colors, and when the dust settled, he was posing on the ground with the rose in his mouth, grinning saucily at her.
She was just barely able to find her voice. "Party pony? What's a party pony?"
Giacolto stood, eyes wide in astonishment, the rose falling to the ground. "What's a party pony? What's a party pony?!"
The world seemed to go dark for a second, but Clementine was beyond being startled by anything at the moment. A beam of light shone from somewhere above her, illuminating the ground as an invisible drum rolled. The light searched this way and that before coming to a stop on Giacolto, who was now dressed in a ridiculous purple and green sequined outfit, wearing clown makeup and sporting a bowler and cane. He beamed at her as polka music started up from nowhere and everywhere, and then burst into song, dancing in time:
♪A party pony is an entertainer!
A party pony sings a lot and dances,
Clementine found herself lost in the moment, grinning from ear to ear, forgetting her confusion and just enjoying the insanity of it all. She started clapping her hooves together in time with the music.
♪Now if you want tragic, or drama you need, then I'm afraid he's not the colt for you,
A party pony is good distraction,
A party pony is a friend forever,
The music finished with a flourish and he bowed to his invisible audience that roared applause while she clapped and cheered. Then the stage, or field, or whatever it was went dark and in an instant, Giacolto was back in the traces and pulling the cart towards Callie Flour's cottage as through nothing unusual had happened.
"That was... amazing! Wonderful! Completely impossible!"
"Nothing is impossible," Giacolto scolded mildly over his shoulder. "Merely highly improbable."
"I have no idea what's happening right now!" She shook her head in utter befuddlement.
"That, my little one, is the beginning of wisdom. Or so I hope."
"What kind of party is a Labor party or a Tory party?"
"I have no idea, actually. Sometimes I just need to make a rhyme work. Ah, here we are." He stopped, unhitched himself, and went into Callie's cottage. There was a shriek and a smashing sound like a pot breaking. He popped his head out of the door and he grinned, a lump showing on his head, his eyes crossed and stars incongruously swirling in a cerebral orbit. "We're in luck, she's in!" A broom descended on his head and he ran out, pursued by a furious Callie.
"And stay out, ya thing!" She drew her broom back for another blow, then paused, looking up at Clementine. "Oh, 'ello there love! Don't tell me this madpony 'as ya under 'is spell!"
"Oh, he's bewitched me, I'm afraid, but stay your broom, good Callie. He's rendering aid, for I have sprained my hooflebone coming to see you." She extended the injured leg and Callie set aside the broom to look closely.
"Aye lass, you've sprained your pastern right and true. Best get some liniment on it and bandage it up tight, then you stay off it for a week, understand?" Callie gave her a look that brooked no arguments, then whirled on Giacolto, who somehow seemed to have recovered from the earlier assault. "And you, ye party pony, keep yer hooves off'n me pies, understand?"
"Pies? You have... I mean, I don't even like pie. Much. Where are they, though, so I can... avoid them?" He ducked another swing from the broom and leapt up to sit next to Clementine, sticking his tongue out at the grumpy mare, who grunted and went back inside.
"So... this is your first time in Equestria, hmm?" Clementine raised her eyebrows and gave him a lopsided smile.
He shrugged. "It makes for a better presentation that way."
"Is everything you say utter rubbish?"
"Oh no!" He looked serious for a moment, even in his getup. "Not the important parts. But the rest, well, that's show business."
"Hmm..." Clementine wasn't convinced but then Callie came out with some linen and a bottle of something that smelled awful but took much of the sting away from her leg when it was applied. Callie then wrapped the linen tight and while it hurt at first, the throbbing subsided and she almost felt like she could put weight on it.
"Thank you so much, Mrs. Flour. May I pay you for these?"
Callie paused for a moment, then nodded. "Last time you was hit by a villain, but this time it's yer own fault, so yeah, a bit or two would be a fair price."
Clementine took out three bits. "Do you think I could buy one of your pies as well?"
Callie pursed her lip. "Will ya be feeding him with it?"
"Well, yes. He is doing me a great kindness. And I can hear his stomach rumbling from here; it's rather distracting."
Callie nodded, took the bits, left Clementine the bottle of liniment, and popped into the kitchen. Giacolto leaned in and whispered, "Not a bit to spare, eh?"
She raised her nose and turned from him, archly replying, "One never knows when one might need to buy pie." Giacolto stopped to consider this, then nodded.
Callie returned with a warm squash and onion pie. Clementine inhaled deeply. "Oh, this smells heavenly!"
"Me secret recipe. It'd break me 'eart if yon scoundrel gobbled it all up and you didn't get to eat any of it, so 'ere, 'ave a piece." She took a knife and cut the pie, giving a slice of it to Clementine on an baked clay plate.
"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't eat the whole thing, would he?" Callie gave her a look, then she turned to Giacolto, who looked around, avoiding her eyes while mumbling something about his metabolism.
She was a bit hungry after her morning adventures, so she dug in and found the pie to be delicious. She could feel the party pony's eyes on the savory dish, so she just giggled and gave him the rest. It was gone in thirty seconds, not even a crumb left in the pan that he handed back to her. "Thank you, that was absolutely splendid."
Clementine stared at him, slightly appalled, then gave pan and plate to Callie, who was grinning. "'E used 'is table marners that time! 'E must value your 'igh opinion of 'im." The maid swung her head back to young stallion, who shrugged and grinned sheepishly.
"Oh! I'm sorry Mrs. Flour, I almost forgot why I came! Do you know of any herbs that could help improve a pony's appetite?"
"You lookin' to fatten yerself up child? Enjoy yer skinniness whilst ye can!" She slapped her own well-padded flank with a laugh.
"No, it's for... Thistlewhistle. She thinks a certain stallion she likes prefers mares to have a bit more meat on them."
Callie cocked an eyebrow at Clementine as Giacolto surreptitiously paid close attention to the conversation. "Hmm. Very well, I 'ave a nice extract of dandelion root she can add to 'er food; it'd go well in a soup or broth. Did she give ya some coin fer it?"
"Yes, how much would it be?"
"Two more bits dearie, I'll go fetch it." She disappeared and after a few moments, sounds of rummaging could be heard, followed by an "Aha!" Callie emerged with a large clay jar and placed it next to Clementine on the seat, smiling and thanking her for the coin. "You 'ave a good day, young miss. And don't trust that party pony as far as I can throw 'im! Not that 'e means ta be a bad sort or nothin', but strange things just happen around 'is kind!"
Clementine waved to Callie, then turned to look at Giacolto, who sighed and lifted the reigns, saying "Giyup!" The cart lurched forward as he turned to look at Clementine. "She's right in a way. Strange things do happen around party ponies. We're not quite sure what causes it, but the Party Pony Effect defies rational analysis."
"Well, whatever the Party Pony Effect is, I think it's a lot of fun, more fun than I ever had before. Will you take me back to the manor now? I have to get back to work. Lady Rubymane needs me."
"On that hoof?" He rolled his eyes. "Didn't you hear what Callie said? That's a week's lying in bed being waited on right there."
"I'm afraid that won't be an option. I'll take it as easy as I can, but... well, it's a long story." The cart wheels creaked and she leaned over to put her head on his shoulder. "You've been so kind to me, and I have to say, I've never heard a song like that one before."
"Neither have I! I think I would perform better if I rehearsed, but the Party Pony Effect appears to be pretty situational. I never know quite what's going to happen. But it doesn't often express itself so, ah, expressively."
He patted her head and she smiled and closed her eyes as the wagon swayed gently. Then she opened them in surprise. "Giacolto? Aren't you supposed to be pulling the cart?"
Callie Flour stopped, and so did the cart. She looked around, gave a look to Giacolto that would have burned the mane off any lesser pony, then dropped the traces. "This! This be the nonsense I'm talkin' about! Celestia protect us all from party ponies!" She stormed off, muttering about madness and purloined pies.
"Like I said, I never know quite what's going to happen." He jumped down, stood in the traces and started pulling his polychrome cart up the road to the manor house. It was a slower trip than her gallop down, and took more than half an hour. The sun was high in the sky, and Clementine felt her skin moistening in the heat. Giacolto seemed unaffected, even pulling her and the cart. Perhaps to a Bitalian pony, this weather would be considered cool.
The manor became visible and they approached the earth pony gate guard at the wall of the gardens. He looked at Giacolto askance, then at Clementine. "It's alright, Guardcolt Bold Shield. He's helping me."
She raised her hoof and his face changed from skepticism to concern. "Are you alright, hon? Is it serious?"
"Just a sprain, Boldy. This is Giacolto, party pony to the courts of Bitalia!" He bowed with a flourish.
"Will her Ladyship permit revels?" There was a tone of hope in his voice.
She shook her head. "I doubt it. He's just helping me return from the village. I hurt myself galloping on the road and he was kind enough to let me ride in his cart."
Bold Shield nodded his thanks to Giacolto and waved them through. They entered the gardens and wound through walls of climbing roses and trellises dripping with wisteria and jasmine. The smell was very relaxing, and she with the gentle rocking of the wagon and a full belly, she almost drifted off. Then the windows of the library were visible.
"Giacolto, could you go around to the back entrance? I shouldn't be going in through the front door."
He turned to look at her as he walked. "Understood. I was not always this handsome, refined specimen you see before you. I started out as third apprentice clown in a fourth rate traveling circus. I'll have to tell you about when I got my big break, I was-"
He was interrupted by bright flash of light. Standing before him was a tall figure Clementine couldn't quite make out in the afterimage of the teleport. Lady Rubymane! Giacolto made a deep bow to the figure, and Clementine stayed very still, trying not to be seen.
The figure spoke. "Court Jester! Is this your idea of low key?!"
Her vision cleared and she saw a tall, elegant figure with a long neck, snow white coat, wearing a gold pectoral, crown and shoes, all with sapphire stones, her horn long and exquisitely spiraled, mane and tail blowing in a non-existent breeze, translucent and glowing in the colors of the northern lights. Princess Celestia!
Author's Note
Giacolto is pronounced /'jacəltō/ with a soft J, and the emphasis on the first syllable. The inspiration for the name, and to some extent the character, is Giacomo, the court jester/spy/assassin who's place was taken by Danny Kaye's character, Hubert Hawkins, in the ridiculous and hilarious movie, The Court Jester. If you haven't seen it, you must. https://66.media.tumblr.com/19da92e74d53ebd98b29a691c52b35d7/tumblr_oqfqgt9II11uveqwco3_250.gif
Giacolto rose before his princess. "Apologies, your highness, but circumstances changed. One of the staff, a filly, was injured fetching some sort of herbal remedy for somepony in the manor and she was in need of a lift. So I needed to get my cart, and, well..." He shrugged. "Party pony."
"You can't party pony your way out of this, Giacolto! We'll have a talk later." She looked up at the cart. "Where is this filly anyway? Did she run off? I hope I didn't frighten her away!" Celestia was looking directly at Clementine, who appeared to be petrified.
"Ah, ah, um... your highness? She's right there." Giacolto waved his hoof at the cart.
Celestia turned to him. "This is NOT the time for one of your jests! Or songs, or pranks or any of that nonsense!" Giacolto was startled, looking between his sovereign and the terrified maid. "I received a letter that a carrier on the Pegasus Express noted bore Lady Rubymane's seal. She dropped her other mail off at her next stop and came straight to Canterlot and gave it to Chief Postmaster Gullfeather Goosedown, who brought it straight to the throneroom. I was hoping it was Rubymane announcing her extremely extended period of mourning had ended, but instead it was a DPC from one of her maids."
The party pony's eyebrows shot up and he glanced back at Clementine who was still frozen in place.
"LOOKETH NOT AT THY CART, THOU BOGLE, AND LISTEN!" The Royal Canterlot Voice, used at close range, was both acoustically unpleasant and a strong magical compulsion. The stallion immediately complied, giving her his full attention, a grimace on his face. "AS WE WERE SAYING... *ahem* as I was saying before you rudely looked away, it was just a few lines, so I read it all before I realized who it was from. Some maid named Clementine, which is also a bit of a mystery, but I digress."
She started pacing as she was speaking, obviously rather agitated. "She claimed that her lady was refusing to eat, that she wanted to be left alone to die, and wanted my advice. As you can imagine, when I found out that one of my oldest living friends is trying to commit slow, painful suicide, I dropped everything and came here. I didn't wait for the chariot; they'll be along in a few hours. I used a teleport chain instead."
Giacolto tried making some noises but Celestia's Voice had rendered him incapable of doing anything but listening. He couldn't even turn his eye from her. "I teleported to her Library as soon as I was in range and found her barricaded inside with furniture! I have no idea how the servants were getting food into her, but there was a tray with some dishes, one of which had been dumped on the floor. She was sitting at her window, just crying. She looks positively skeletal, Giacolto." Celestia's voice had gotten softer as emotion took hold. "This maid, whoever she is, was right to contact me. There is black magic at play here."
Giacolto was trying desperately to squirm, but couldn't manage. The princess continued, to her captive audience, "I was able to speak with Ruby, but she was quite adamant that she was done with this world, and what is really odd is that she has no idea who this Clementine is. There's a spell here, a memory spell of some kind, and it's locked her mind. The thing that is really strange is it almost looks like she's the one who cast it. This is my Ruby-booby, there must be some mistake!" Tears that had been brimming on her lower eyelids broke free and spilled down her cheeks as she sobbed, embracing the paralyzed jester. She held him for a moment, then backed away. "Aren't you going to hug me back, or say something? Oh. Sorry." She closed her eyes and the compulsion faded. "Now is not the time for merriment, my friend."
"Your highness, I am being serious. Giacolto giuramento! That maid, Clementine, is sitting right there on the seat of my cart, terrified out of her wits. You really can't see her?"
Celestia frowned, then her mouth opened. "There is somepony there! But it's really hard to make her out!"
"Hard to make her out? She's a pure white unicorn filly with a gold mane and tail, wearing a cream colored traveling frock. It's high noon."
Celestia squinted. "Come here, child, I promise I won't bite. You are in no trouble. You did right, though in the future you should be careful not to misuse the seal of a noble pony on letters sent through the Royal Mail. Do you have any idea what the penalty is?"
Clementine climbed down the side of the cart and slowly walked towards the Princess, limping only slightly; the bandage had helped stabilize her pastern and the liniment had numbed the pain. Don't speak first, answer any questions. She made a shaky curtsy, looked down and said, "Y-your highness, T-Title 8, Chapter 72, S-subchapter 1288, Part 1, Subpart k: The misrepresentation of p-personal mail using official s-seals shall result in a punishment not to exceed 5 years imprisonment and a fine of five thousand bits."
"Really?" Celestia blinked. "That seems rather harsh!" She squinted at Clementine, her head moving around, then seemed to lose focus. She looked at Giacolto in surprise. "What are you doing here? Is that your idea of low key, Court Jester?"
Giacolto's jaw dropped as he stared at Celestia in amazement.
"I take it you're surprised to see me too. I must say it's somewhat of a relief not to hear a stream of endless nonsense coming from that mouth for once, but I'm glad you're here anyway. There's a serious situation with my friend, Rubymane. One of her maids wrote a letter to..."
"Wrote a letter to you," interrupted Giacolto, "wherein she claimed that her lady was trying to refuse to eat, that she wanted to be left alone to die, and asking for your advice. When you found out that one of your friends was trying to commit suicide, you immediately came here using a teleport chain instead of your chariot."
Now it was Celestia's turn to stare, slackjawed, at her jester. "How... how could you possibly know that?"
"Because you told me that yourself, your highness, not two minutes ago."
"I... I did?" She blinked. "This isn't one of your tricks, is it?"
"Highness, is there a unicorn to your left, kneeling in front of you?"
She turned and searched for a moment. "Oh! How odd! Yes, a gray filly with a kind of brown...ish? Mane. Where did you come from, child?"
Clementine started to reply but Giacolto interrupted her. "Highness! Cloud Eight Protocol!" Celestia gasped and vanished in a flash of light.
Clementine turned to the party pony, confused and dazed from the afterimages. "What? Why did you-"
Giacolto was moving very quickly, circling. He reached behind his back and pulled out what appeared to be a cream pie. "I'm sorry, but I don't know who or what you are, and I can't take any chances with the Princess!" Suddenly, the pie was sailing straight at her, so she instinctively closed her eyes. It splattered her right in the face, covering her horn, mane and the front of her body in thick, sticky white filling.
"HEY!" She wiped her eyes clear to glare at Giacolto, but her was no longer there. She whirled, but it was too late; he was already behind her, pulling a hood down over her eyes and lifting her like a sack of struggling potatoes. She screamed, but it was muffled. Why is he doing this? I trusted him! I'm such a foal!
She could knew she was being carried somewhere and in a few seconds felt the hard boards of the wagon under her side. She kicked out but he was much stronger and easily tied her with some rope he must have had stowed. Then he lifted the hood quickly. "You OK?"
She was so angry she wanted to spit in his eye. She saw that she had been put in the back of the cart, where the was apparently a small door. There were sacks, boxes and barrels back there along with a variety of cloth, poles, and other odds and ends. She looked into his eyes, his green, beautiful, treacherous eyes that were pretending to show concern. "You said you weren't like them. You're just like them." Rage smouldered in her heart.
He looked stricken, but said nothing, just tugged down the hood and cinched it under her chin. She screamed and squirmed and cried and then she heard the door close. The wagon started to roll; it felt like it was going uphill, away from the village and the manor, towards the market town. You wanted to see Stablesboro, well here's your chance.
She was so angry, she screamed uselessly into the hood until her throat hurt. I'm being foalnapped again! The rational part of her brain reminded her that she wasn't being dragged into a filthy den in the woods by two thugs, she was being foalnapped properly by a gentlepony with a cart that smells of baked goods, who works for Princess Celestia and isn't that interesting, but her emotions were having none of it. Then she felt no fear at all. She was watching a covered wagon rolling along a road, being pulled by an earth pony, a silvery moon lighting the scene, stars blazing on a cloudless night.
The pony looked around as he pulled his wagon, determination on his face. He was a handsome sort of stallion, a bit on the small side perhaps, but well proportioned with a glossy, healthy deep red coat, wearing a tan vest. Green eyes looked around the landscape over distant mountains, rugged hills, and thick pine forests that spread out in a broad valley. He stopped, looked up at the moon, scratched his head, and then reached into his thick, sandy mane, pulling a folded map from out somewhere in its depths. He squinted at the map in the luminescence, looked around once more, and exclaimed, "I know I should have taken that left turn at Appleloosa!"
He sighed and started pulling forward again. For miles and miles he slogged up the track, muttering about country roads. A dark form passed overheard and he looked up. Dragon!
Deathworm hovered twenty feet above him, a menacing silhouette, the mighty coils of his night-black body almost reaching the ground. "Ah, good, I've been looking for you." The bass voice rumbled and rebounded from the hills around them. "I'll take that cart, if you please, and your cargo."
The stallion's shock and horror turned to anger. "You'll take her over my dead body, dragon!"
The dragon shrugged. "I suppose that is an acceptable arrangement." His jaws opened and he started to bend towards the hapless pony when out of nowhere a dun mare with long tawny mane dropped from the sky, landing on his head and driving him into the ground.
"OW! Them scales a yours are harder than Chineighs calculus, ya overgrown ophidian!" The gray-brown mare rolled off the head of the groaning dragon and stood up, then reached down to help the dragon raise his head, which he cradled in two great claws.
"Hollyhock? What are you doing here? This is Chapter 19! Oh, my head... and wait a second, calculus? Ophidian!? That doesn't seem quite right coming from you, does it?"
"No, no, no, you refugee from Medusa's bouffant, this here is Chapter 14 and I just fell in that there trap door in the castle. Wait. Where'd that castle go? Why's it nighttime?" She looked around, confused. "And what's a bouffant?"
"It doesn't matter, I suppose, we just need to get that unicorn away from that fellow with the cart."
"What unicorn?"
"You know, the one who's always watching us, who laughs at our jokes, gets excited during our fight scenes, gets scared when one of us is in danger... you know, her!"
"Oh." Hollyhock scratched her head. "Ya'll realize she ain't s'posed ta actually be in the story with us, don't ya?"
"Indeed, that's the issue I'm trying to resolve. That earth pony has her in the cart." Deathworm indicated the location with his claw.
"What earth pony, and what cart?" Deathworm's jaw dropped as he turned to look at the empty road.
"I am going to eat that pony!" Deathworm started moving forward on his claws, with Hollyhock running to keep up.
"Ah thought you was a-done eatin' ponies back in Chapter 3!" she called.
"Maybe it's cheat day!" he growled back at her.
Meanwhile, the red stallion raced with his cart back where he had come from, galloping down the track while bangs and bumps came from the inside of his covered cart. "Sorry! My bad!" he cried out as he hit a particularly deep pothole. He wasn't quite sure where he was running but he hoped he would know it when he saw it.
He came to a sudden stop. Before him on the road was an alicorn princess with a coat of purest alabaster, had it not been spattered with mud, a fabulous crown of white gold decorated with garnet and obsidian sitting lopsided upon a mane like shimmering samite, golden and silver hairs which would have been flowing and sparkling in the moonlit breeze, had they not been dripping with sweat. Eyes of beaten copper glared at him as she leaned forward in the traces of her own cart, at the back of which was a black metal cage, a white unicorn stallion in a rather foppish outfit, slumped within.
"Out of my way, peasant!" She stopped herself, blinked, then sighed, and looked at him more mildly. "My apologies, goodcolt, but I am about on my last nerve here. There wouldn't happen to be an active volcano about, would there?"
The earth pony made a sketchy bow. "No, your highness, but there is a dragon after me."
A small smile appeared on the alicorn's face. "That might do!" Then her face fell as Deathworm and Hollyhock rounded the corner. "Not you! This is Chapter 30! The rescue isn't until Chapter 32!" She unhitched herself from her cart as the earth pony stallion did the same with his, grimly preparing to fight to the end.
"I am going to EAT that stallion!" The dragon galloped towards the hapless cartpony until the princess interposed herself, raising a hoof.
"You know, if you're going to go off your diet and have a yen for stallion..." she motioned towards the cage.
The dragon stopped his charge and sat back on his haunches, tilting his head at her. "But I kind of like him. Besides, he's supposed to be in the story. This pony is not. And he's taken HER prisoner." The dragon paused for a moment. "And I say, Everheart, that seems rather uncharacteristically bloodthirsty of you."
"You have no idea what the last fifty pages have been like. And HER who?"
"The unicorn who has been observing us and reacting to our characters and the events of the story." Hollyhock held a hoof to her mouth, suddenly embarrassed, her cheeks reddening.
The alicorn's eyes widened. "Hollyhock, sweetheart, have you been studying?" She dimpled. "You don't have to change, darling. I think you're perfect. I don't care what they'll say at court about your accent; I'll banish the lot of them."
Deathworm and Hollyhock stared at Everheart in utter shock. "Forsooth, your highness? What sayest thou? Erm... say what now?" The dragon just looked from one to the other and back again.
"Don't you remember, honey, Chapter 27? The walk on that road in the moonlight on a warm summer evening, we accidentally brushed our flanks against one another, the awkward blushing silence between us..." Everheart slowly walked to the astonished Hollyhock, and reached up to stroke her mane with her hoof. "I told you about the awful curse I was under, forced by my father's political ambitions to marry a stallion I did not love, bound to him with powerful enchantments, and then we..." the dirty, sweaty alicorn leaned forward, her breath hot on the earth mare's cheek, when Hollyhock backed up, startled, and tripped over her hooves, collapsing on the ground.
"Your highness, I'm still on Chapter 14, and I'm not certain that this is at all appropriate for the Young Reader's Section."
"I think it's pretty hot, actually," commented Deathworm to the earth pony stallion, who nodded in quiet agreement.
"Can't you see what's happening? We're losing the plot!" The voice came from the cage where the bedraggled Prince Silverhoof was standing on shaky legs.
"How are you even conscious?" The princess didn't even begin to hide her disappointment.
Silverhoof waved his hoof at the sky. "Look! Look what's happening!" The others all looked up.
A band of starlit sky appeared to be peeling away, revealing a cloudy gray nothingness that both drew and repelled the eye. They all gasped, but the earth stallion shouted, "The interface!"
"Yes!" Silverhoof cried out. "The Bindings are coming undone!"
"The interface?" Hollyhock held onto Princess Everheart in fear, feeling oddly comforted in her embrace.
"It's the space between realities, my love! And how does an earth pony know about it?" She looked at the carter with an accusatory glare.
"Party pony!" He looked down from the terrifying sight in the sky to the prince in his cage, who seemed to have at least some idea what was happening. "What do we do?"
"You have to get her out of here! What did you do to her?"
"I... uh... well, I had a good reason!" the party pony stammered.
"WHAT! DID! YOU! DO!?" A loud wind had whipped up and was blowing dust everywhere as the sky started to come apart. A distant mountain range shuddered as it began to crumble.
"I foalnapped her! She's in the cart!"
"What else!? Did you drug her? Hit her on the head?"
"No! I wouldn't! I just, well, tied her up with a bag over her head!" He blushed. "I know that doesn't exactly sound good, but..."
"WHAT KIND OF BAG?" The bars on the cage flew apart and the Prince broke free, running to the party pony.
"A nullcloth bag! She's a unicorn, and I had to neutralize her; what else could I use?"
The prince shook his hoof in the party pony's face. "That's torn it! She's not ready yet! She still needs to be protected! You," the prince poked the earth pony in the chest, "must protect her now! Our time in this place is over!"
"I don't understand!" The earth pony was just barely beginning to piece things together.
"Get her out of the cart!" The unicorn shoved him to get him moving.
The earth stallion ran to the cart and pulled open the door while the rest of the characters looked around them as reality itself came unhinged. He reached in and dragged the tied form from inside. He thought it was strange that she seemed heavier and bigger than before, but quickly undid her bindings and stood her up. Somehow, her frock had burst at the seams, perhaps torn by her struggles to free herself from her bindings. Even the bandage on her leg was shredded, though he noted she appeared uninjured as well.
"The hood! Take the hood off, you foal!"
The stallion untied the cinch of the hood and pulled it off her head. Then he stared.
The world was coming apart all around him, mountains were falling, trees being ripped up into the air by tornadoes, the oceans boiling, and none of it mattered. Nothing mattered in this astounding moment. His world collapsed into a single dimension as he beheld the young mare before him, terrified by the sudden chaos and noise, confused, and impossibly lovely.
Her mane whipped in the wind like a waterfall made of gold filigree. Every line of her snow white face was exquisite, from her delicate nostrils to her supple, arched neck, to the small, alert, well pointed ears with a perfect hint of pink pinnae. Her eyes were a startling ultramarine, a deeper, richer blue than any he'd ever se...
He was smacked from the side by Prince Silverhoof and reality came roaring back. "You have to break the spell and get her out of here before everything comes apart of you'll both be caught in the interface!" Her wavy auriferous mane blew almost straight in the howling gale, the tatters of her yellow frock carried off into the nothingness by an exceptional gust.
"How?" A strip of land near them heaved up and disintegrated, causing Clementine to scream in sheer terror. His heart was pounding in his ears. I am Giacolto, and we are in Clementine's mind!
"Her horn coffle, the ring, it's made of annamannatite! Take it off! And tell her... tell Clémence, that her papa and her mama loved her very much!"
The earth pony turned his head to look at Silverhoof, who appeared to be coming apart a bit himself as the wind whipped him about, and nodded solemnly. He saw the black metal ring that encircled her long, symmetrically spiraled ivory horn. He stuffed the anti-magic bag into a pocket in his vest and reached up with both hooves to lift the ring from her horn. She stiffened as the coffle was removed, and her horn glowed with golden power as she looked up at him.
Still, the roaring, shrinking world around them fell apart. Giacolto turned to Silverhoof, seeing now that there were strips of interface showing through his flesh, a sad smile on his face. "We're still here!" Giacolto shouted over the hurricane.
"She can't let us go!" Hollyhock shouted back. Clémence was looking at Silverhoof, Deathworm, Hollyhock and Everheart as oblivion closed in on them, her eyes bright with tears. "We're just characters in a story, darlin'! Ya'll have ta let us go or you'll be smithereened with us!"
She shook her head in despair. "No! I love all of you!"
"We aren't real!" Everheart's crown slowly shattered and her mane and tail dissolved into metallic fragments that faded into the gray wind.
"You're real to me!" Clementine's voice was full of heartache and grief.
"You! Party pony!" Deathworm boomed. "Give her something else to think about! Something real!" His scales shredded in a long line around the sinuous coils of his body.
Giacolto turned his back on the madness and looked into eyes that seemed to be made of liquid lapis. He moved closer to her, his heart racing, impending doom, desperate hope and his sudden, exhilarating infatuation combining to create an intimacy he never dreamt of. She stopped looking at the others and locked her eyes in response to his ardent gaze. They were already close, so when he leaned forward, their lips met. Her eyes widened, then closed along with his. Softly at first, lightly, but then with urgency as the maelstrom closed in on them, their senses intermingled in unabashed oneness, an almost innocent lust. He took her in a desperate embrace and crushed her to him, convinced that this was the end, that in this last moment, this was his one chance to embrace love, that if she was to be taken by oblivion, he would go with her, and be with her in that long, final instant, somehow completed.
She responded hungrily, years of repressed sexuality suddenly released at the same time as her physical and magical development, the age spell having been peeled away by her confinement in the anti-magic bag along with the other enchantments woven about her. Her tongue quested for his as her hooves dug into his back with sudden passion. Heat flushed in her face as she gasped, astonishing new sensations shocking her body, and she pulled back, short of breath, cheeks bright red, her astonishing blue eyes open, almost swallowing him whole and drowning him in their liquid depths.
His desire, his need, his absolute devotion were hers as he regarded her in the quiet forest glade, dappled sunlight filtering to glint on the metallic fairy gold of her luxurious mane and phenomenal tail. His eyes traced all the graceful lines of her lithe, lissom, shuddering, nude body, returning to her elegant, inexpressibly perfect face, her mouth half open, her head tilted down causing her eyes to tilt up, allowing a small amount of white to show under her singular irises. He experienced a need he never imagined was possible as he stepped forward to close the gap that had opened, to once again establish their eternal embrace before he lost her and everything else, not that anything else mattered.
She stepped back in response,the soft sound made by her hoof landing in the moist grass being the only noise he heard. She was still flushed, but wasn't looking at him anymore. She was looking around at a green forest glen, feeling the warmth of a summer afternoon sun scattering through the treetops around them, and in a moment so did he. The world wasn't coming to an end, they were not going to be torn into shreds of nothingness in the space between realities, birds were chirping and that he would have a lifetime to be head over hooves in love with this amazing mare. "Clémence! You did it! We made it back!"
"Clémence? Who? Where... what happened?" She looked like she was trying her hardest to remember something, her brow wrinkling with concentration, then her striking blue eyes snapped on him, widening in shock and realization. "You foalnapped me!"
"Um, well, uh, yes but..."
"What else did you do? What was all that, a spell? Some kind of potion? Were you kissing me!?" Her delightful face was flushed but now it was with anger, all intimacy and warmth chased away by a raging fire of indignation blossoming in her heart.
"Darling, I'm so-" He felt a sudden urge to grovel.
"DON'T YOU 'DARLING' ME! I feel so weird right now! Did you put your tongue in my mouth, you pervert?! I'm just a filly!" Disgust filled her, not just at his actions, but at her own foolishness for trusting this... stallion!
"Um, uh, well no, you're really n-"
"You were going to ravish me, weren't you!?"
It was Giacolto's turn to flush angrily now. He had just saved her life, after all. Well, maybe after putting her in peril, but still, one must put one's hoof down when somepony is just being unfair, even if you are hopelessly besotted. "In my opinion, it seemed like it was going to be a rather MUTUAL ravishment!"
She blinked in shock, outrage and hurt all but blinding her. "HOW DARE YOU!" She lowered her head and golden fire exploded off her horn, striking Giacolto straight in the chest. He was hurled back thirty feet into the woods, small trees snapping as his tumbling body crashed through them until he struck a thick bole and dropped to the ground. He groaned, then was still.
Clementine was stunned. She gazed up at her horn, no longer a gray inert, stubby thing, but a spiraled white lance, blazing like the sun. Her mane fluttered in a light breeze and she caught it with her white, delicate hoof, mouth agape. She craned her neck around and looked at her body, no longer that of an awkward mouse of a filly, but of a slender, well formed, silken coated, and quite nude white mare just past adolescence, the sort one might see painted on the cover of a particularly fanciful romantic novel, with her mane and tail artfully covering at least some of her torso for modesty's sake.
There was too much happening all at the same time. Too many changes. Her sense of self was in tatters as her mind adjusted not merely to the removal of spells that had been blocking and even altering her memories, but to actual physical growth and reorganization, and the establishment of the brain mass specific to unicorns that permitted mental power to be channeled through her newly awoken horn. I can cast magic! Wonder and delight started to grow in her.
And it stopped, crashing down into horror and fear that clutched at her heart like a griffin's claw. "Giacolto! What have I done?!" She dashed to the tree he had struck and looked down at him, lying unmoving on his side, his eyes closed, a thin line of smoke rising from his charred particolor costume. "Giacolto? Giacolto!" She shook him, his sandy mane spreading limply over the ground out of his ridiculous hat as her hooves rolled him on his back. She pulled away the domino mask and looked at his face, peaceful, still. "Oh no, oh Giacolto, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" She bent to cradle his head and cried in despair, holding it to her chest. I've killed another pony! Another pony?
The spell that Rubymane cast on her had been dispelled as well, and out of the chaos of images, she pulled the faces of the cruel Shivershanks and the brutal Plowneck, of the strange dream in which they fought with Prince Silverhoof and she took his sword and coldly stabbed them. But it wasn't really her, it was just a character in the story. But however it happened, she had wanted that character to kill those characters, and the real ponies were stone dead on the floor of their hut when she came back to the real world. She remembered Lady Rubymane swearing they wouldn't steal her childhood as her eyes glowed green, black streams of magic pouring from her horn to reach into her mind and alter her memories.
The black magic Princess Celestia was talking about! It was Lady Rubymane's! She cast it to protect me from myself! Oh no! How many lives have I ruined? Dreadful realization filled her with shame and grief. I'm a monster!
Her tears fell on the stallion, the kind, gentle clown who only kissed her to take her away from that mad whirlwind of destruction the story spell had become. Who only foalnapped her because he was protecting his princess from a monster. She bent, and kissed his lips gently. "My darling, I am so sorry." She sniffed and wiped the tears away, images and memories still fragmented, her self shattered as she backed away from the party pony, her head low, her throat tight. Looking down, she saw her reflection in a puddle. A noble unicorn looked up at her, the epitome of classical beauty. She stamped her foot in the puddle angrily, spattering herself with mud. Monster!
She looked around, tearful and thoughtful. I must be gone before I ruin any more lives, before I kill anypony else! But I can't run naked on the road like some foal. She went to Giacolto's wagon and looked in the bags, trunks, various boxes and sacks, rooting around for several minutes until she found a dark cloak, then tied it on. She didn't trust her magic, so she used her hooves. I'd probably set the wagon on fire if I tried telekinesis. She also found a set of saddlebags and quite a surprising amount of food. I shall have to eat at some point, I suppose. Another minute of searching revealed a small purse with about 40 bits in it, and she took it with no small degree of guilt. I shall need coin for ferries. Here I am, looting my victim's belongings. An auspicious start to my new career.
She found a curious case as well. When she opened it, the top had a mirror on the inside. Shelves unfolded, revealing pigments, brushes, oils, pencils and dyes, and in the bottom were fake noses and wigs and a bottle of spirit gum. His makeup kit! She took this and made some room in one of the saddlebags, placing it inside. It seemed a bit odd that all that food and the makeup kit managed to fit inside such small bags, but she didn't give it much thought. She threw the bags across her back and cinched under her firm belly, finally draping the cloak over them, then trotted over to look at Giacolto one last time. There was a rosebush to her left, and she plucked one of the roses from it, placing it on his chest between his hooves as a small token of reverence.
"I could have loved you, Giacolto. You made me laugh harder than anypony ever. And that kiss... I don't even know how to describe it. And look what I've done to you." Her voice was bitter. "I'm not fit company for anypony. I'm a murderess, a destroyer. A monster. So I'll go where the monsters go, and be with my own kind." And with that she slowly turned and walked west, the atlas of Equestria in her mind. Keep the Camelhump Mountains on your right until you get to the Neighagra River, then between Rambling Rock Ridge and the legendary haunted ruins. Right into the heart of Everfree.
The setting sun was painting the library a delicate shade of pink as dusk settled on the manor. Princess Celestia and Lady Rubymane sat drinking tea, eating cake, and having a rather heartfelt discussion. The madness of despair and grief had left Rubymane quite suddenly three hours ago, and she was making up for her earlier hunger strike with gusto, matching the princess cake for cake, that being no mean feat.
"So let me get this straight, Booby. This is the second time you cast black magic. The first time, you cast it on yourself to forget your own grief, and naturally that worked so well you figured you could do the same for Clementine to help her forget about killing those two thugs in the woods?"
"I know! I know, it was amazingly stupid. But I was still under the effects of the first spell. Which of course is still my fault so it's no excuse. Not everypony can be perfect and wise and rational as you, Moo-Moo." The old unicorn frowned and savagely took out her frustration on the cake suspended in front of her, washing it down with another sip of tea. "When you dispelled them... I'm so ashamed of myself."
I didn't dispell them, and I don't know who did. "Well, it's not all your fault. Ten years? I should have checked up on you long before this." Celestia sipped, hiding a small smile behind the teacup as she remembered her escapades as Cowlestia the Udderly Magnificent, after a magical prank backfired seventy years ago. Not every detail of her life made it into the Royal Annals, and a good thing too!
"You have been a little busy with the fallout from the Prench Revolution, dealing with les émigrés, trying to keep us safe from the Directorate, spies, blockades, raids, conspiracies, assassination attempts..."
"Well, no good excuses for either of us, then. All is forgiven?" Celestia raised her cup, surrounded by a pale golden nimbus.
Rubymane raised her cup in response, the red glow mixing with the gold. "All is forgotten." She went to sip and stopped, her eyes widening. "Maybe we should amend that particular toast."
Celestia choked on her tea, then put it down, using her magic to pick up a napkin and blotting up some spilled tea. "Mind your carpets, dear."
"Where is Clementine anyway? I really need to apologize to that filly. To think she's been taking care of me all these months while I'm moaning and groaning and throwing dishes!" Rubymane shook her head. "That child has a real brain under her poll and sweet as a sugarlump too! That spell on her though... it's so powerful! That's another reason I'm glad you're here, Moo-Moo, I need you to find out what's going on there. It's a powerful glamour, obviously cast by an archmage, or perhaps several of them. And I doubt it's Equestrian. Seems rather odd that it only works on unicorns as well." Rubymane reached for a pastry.
"And alicorns. She's... she's fine, Booby. I have my best pony looking after her. He's taking her to a safehouse in the market town where she can be examined in a nullmagic environment before we remove the spell."
Rubyman raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think you should remove it? I barely know what it does; I certainly don't know why it does it. There may be a very good reason for it. I got the impression it was purely protective in nature. Don't you need more time for research? And why take her up to Saddleboro? She may have a had a few accidental side effects like that kitchen fire, but that filly's harmless and good natured."
Celestia looked out the window, worry showing on her face. "I really should have heard from him by now, Ruby. He has a Vox Procul and I was expecting him to send me the all clear an hour ago." She fidgeted with a small amulet that hung down from her crown near her ear.
Rubymane glowered. "If something has happened to her..."
Celestia frowned back. "She was carrying a powerful spell of unknown origin that would have let her walk right up to me, unseen! It's not just for my protection; it's for the realm. What happens to the celestial order without me? Do you really want to see the unicorn wars starting up again, Ruby? Do you want crop failures and droughts and all the other horrors?"
Rubymane's glare softened. "I know. I know. I just can't believe there's any evil in that child! All she wants to do is learn all there is to learn and be kind while she's doing it." She looked away, closing her eyes, a tear rolling down one cheek. "She reminds me so much of Softmane at her age, now that I let myself think about it."
"Well, Giacolto is my best agent. Sometimes he solves problems using unorthodox methods. He's not always on time, but things always seem to work out. And there's usually a party involved. I'm probably just worrying about nothing."
The library door, which had been cleared of its barricade, burst open, and Giacolto walked in, looking like the last survivor of a desperate battle. "Your highness, we have a problem."
Part 2, Chapter 8: The Maid of Everfree
While there are many tales regarding fabulous, and often quite dangerous creatures living in the Everfree Forest, the extent to which these creatures' existence has been verified according to reliable sources is rather limited. Everfree is itself magical and appears to be almost intelligently hostile to ponykind, making scientific inquiry into its flora and fauna hazardous at best.
The failed, and probably ill-advised, Royal Society expedition of AC 356, only netted samples of a few dozen plants, six small creatures such as jackalopes and star spiders, and one manticoress, examples all of which were known to natural philosophers at the time, at the cost of the expedition leader Baron Bluewine, two eminent scholars of the Society and six bearers.
The survivors, most bearing wounds both physical and psychic, told mane-raising stories of ambushes by animated plants, nighttime raids of their supplies by diminutive but savage bideps with glowing eyes and short stabbing spears, and strange mists that turned mid-day to night and led the explorers into deep swamps, chasms and the lair of an unlikely creature they described as a flying six-armed bear with a stinger.
What stuck in the minds of the members of the expedition who made it back, more than any one creature, was this feeling of being constantly under observation. The deeper they explored into the trackless, dense woods, the more oppressive it was; all agreed that there was a malign consciousness within the heart of the forest, inimical to ponies. Of course, this could just be the fevered imaginations of the survivors of a long-range expedition into what is well known to be a dangerous wilderness filled with carnivores, pests and rough terrain.
It must be said though, that the stories written by Sugarlump Surehoof during her stay in the Canterlot Asylum are considered some of the most terrifying psychological horror novels ever written in the Ponish language. If novels they truly are.
Excerpt from
Giacolto collapsed after delivering his brief and unenlightening message. Celestia caught him with her magic before he hit the ground, her eyes wide with alarm and worry. Lady Rubymane set down her tea and sat upright in her chair. "Who is he and what in Equestria happened to him?"
"My jester, and I don't know." Her control slipped and he fell hard on the floor with a groan. "Oh dear! I'm sorry!" She stood and crossed the floor, scanning him, her eyes narrowing in frustration. "He looks like he was hit with a fifth or even sixth degree power bolt, but I can't read... wait a second!"
"If he was hit in the chest with sixth degree power, he wouldn't just be dead, he'd be disassembled, party pony or not." Rubymane tried to rise, sighed and sat back down. "I'm sorry, I'm not going to be of any use for a while. Celestia, he's the one who had Clementine, isn't he? What has become of my poor mai- what is that?"
Celestia pulled a black cloth object from within the folds of the jester's smoldering costume. There was a distinct smell of ozone and burned cream pie. She carried it to the desk, holding it away from herself. "The anti-magic bag." Rubymane involuntarily scooted away from it. "It must have absorbed most of the energy from the bolt. He only got hit by the deflected portion of the bolt."
"So... he must have removed the anti-magic bag from Clementine's head at some point before he got hit by a power bolt that an adept or magister class mage might use to drive away a great drake or to knock down part of a castle wall." Rubymane tapped one hoof on the table in thought. "Two possibilities I can see. One, he removed it from her head to allow her to run to save herself from whatever attacked him on the road." She sat quietly, chewing her lower lip.
Celestia turned to look at her. "Two: Giacolto removed the bag from her head, and she attacked him." Her mouth cut a grim line as she returned to look at the supine jester. "He's lost consciousness. He has a nasty concussion, several broken ribs, and he appears to have first-to-second degree burns on his chest and forelegs." Her magic washed up and down his body. "Dozens of scratches and bruises. His breathing is strong though; none of the ribs appear to have pierced his lungs."
"You can't seriously think a filly did that to a full grown earth pony." Rubymane sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was Celestia. "In any case, she's magically crippled; she never lifted so much as a straight pin that I saw!"
"But the glamour... you believe it wasn't just her appearance that was altered; her gift was also suppressed. You said that when you spoke about the kitchen fire. Her head was in an antimagic bag for... well. perhaps for an hour, depending on how far Giacolto had gone down the road." She whipped her tail in agitation. "Rubymane, I don't have enough information to make the best decision, but I have enough to make what I think is a good decision. If you don't mind, I'll need to commandeer the library and the dining room. And your staff." She opened the door as Rubymane nodded acquiescence. "I need Captain Steelfeather, and get me the butler!"
"Yes, your highness!" One thick-necked earth pony guard stayed at the library door, while another ran out the main hall through the front door. Within a minute, Steelfeather, Captain of the Guard, was standing at attention before his princess.
"Yes, your highness?" His gold chased armor was lighter weight than that of the earth ponies, and his light blue coloration would have served as effective aerial camouflage without it.
"We are searching for a unicorn filly. Her name is Clementine. It is possible that she will be gray, with brownish hair, or she may be white with yellow hair; descriptions are varied. She may have started anywhere between here and Stablesboro, and we don't know her destination, or if she even has one. She may be alone, or she may be accompanied. Somepony, or something, very powerful is in the game here." She indicated the injured Giacolto. "Whether she is accompanied or not, she is to be treated with extreme caution. She is NOT to be harmed, but if it appears she requires a rescue from imminent danger, that is authorized." She glanced at Rubymane, who nodded with the barest ghost of a smile.
Steelfeather looked down at the jester, appalled. "Your highness is a suggesting a filly may have done... this?"
"I don't know. It is imperative that she be found, unharmed, rescued if necessary, covertly tracked if possible, and that I be informed before any further actions are taken. You have your orders, Captain."
He saluted sharply with a wing. "Yes ma'am. I recommend that all but two of the First Flight be committed to this search. One will stay here and provide air cover for you; I'll send the Top Wing up to Canterlot for reinforcements. Five of us may not be sufficient. I'd like to bring in second and third squadrons. We can have them here right at sunset."
That would leave Canterlot defended only by fourth squadron, the Thundercrackers, but she did say this was imperative. There would still be three squads each of unicorns and earth ponies on the walls. Still, she worried that the second and third may not be fully prepared to fly out on such short notice. "Captain, what's the point of bringing the Cloudbreakers and the Skysplitters down here before daybreak?"
"A filly may use a light spell to travel at night, if she doesn't just go to ground. That's an easier spell than night vision, ma'am. It'd be easier to spot her at night that it would be in daylight, if she does that."
She nodded. "Indeed it would be. Good thinking, Captain. Do as you see fit. And remember, first sign of her, come get me, even if it's the middle of the night." He sketched a bow, lifted himself with a single flap of his wings, turned quickly and sped out.
Before the door could close, Mr. Glass appeared, slightly winded from running in response to the summons. He entered the room and bowed very correctly. "Your highness, how may I serve you?" His voice was a slightly gravely, pleasant baritone, but his stress showed through even so.
"Ruby, do mind?" Celestia turned and smiled at her friend, but her stress was also apparent.
"Glass, it would please me no end if you gave Princess Celestia the same excellent service that you have always given me."
"Of course my lady, I am honored." He bowed again, somewhat less stiffly this time. That's a loyal butler, worried what Ruby would think about me summoning him, thought Celestia.
"I know this is going to wreak havoc on the household, but we need a sick room to be set up, and the dining room is the only room large enough. Place four beds to in there; one for the Lady Rubymane, one for my jester here-" Glass glanced down and started to see Giacolto, "-one for my doctor, for she will have to sleep sometime I suppose, and something for me to sleep on as well; some pillows on the floor would do; there are few beds large enough for me. And I require a space cleared in the library large enough for my guards to manage their... mission. Six chairs, this desk," she indicated the large desk that Rubymane was sitting at, "and a large horizontal board on a stand of some sort, if you could arrange that. Perhaps the village carpenter could knock something together."
Mr. Glass was focused on the princess' instructions, not on her floating mane the color of the northern lights. She could see he was categorizing her instructions and gave him a second to complete that mental task before moving on. "In addition, the kitchen will have to start preparing food for a force of thirty guard ponies in addition to the rest of the household." He couldn't stop himself from wincing at that. "I know I'm asking for a great deal. The royal purse is open; get what you must. Victuals, nothing too fancy mind you, I'm not here for feasting; and extra staff. Set up a second kitchen outside under tents if you have to. Get the wheels in motion, please, then come and see me."
Glass bowed. "Your highness." He stood, then turned slightly to face Rubymane. "My lady, " he said, inclining his head, then turned and moved quickly from the library, closing the door behind him, and calling out to the staff.
Celestia knelt next to Giacolto, stroking his brow with her wing. "You have a good butler here, Booby."
"Don't go getting any ideas, Moo-moo," growled Rubymane in return. Celestia allowed herself a small smile as she monitored her patient.
"I don't think I could entice him. I know love when I see it." Rubymane's eyebrows shot up, eliciting a chuckle from the princess. "No, not that kind of love. He's fiercely devoted to you, though."
"Damned if I know why. I've been a noble, if not royal, pain in the flank these past ten years. But I'm sure he'll have some good years left when it's my time to move on, so please feel free to keep him in mind. If he can weather my tantrums, he can probably survive yours."
"It's good that you're being practical again, Booby. But isn't that a little harsh to young Goldbolt? Won't he need a butler?"
"Glass would be wasted on him. Frankly, the pot girl would be wasted on him. If it doesn't involve gambling and alcohol, it's of no interest to that one."
"You forget, Booby, I remember you when you were twenty." Celestia raised one eyebrow and tilted her head.
"Be that as it may, I wasn't an heiress then, with responsibilities."
"No, you were just the valedictorian of the Royal Academy and the most beautiful bachelorette in Canterlot. And always getting me into trouble."
"Me getting you into trouble?" Rubymane feigned shock.
"The first time Springheart saw you, you were doing a keg stand in the palace ballroom."
"I don't remember it that way!"
"You wouldn't, given your state at the time. I've never seen anypony struck down by heartache like he was. You wouldn't give him the time of day, remember?"
"I was just blowing off steam before my sabbatical. I didn't need any complications; I was going away for a whole year."
"He spent that year pining for you. He went to sea to forget you, you know."
Rubymane nodded, her eyes starting to water. "I know, I know. And somehow, miraculously, he was first mate on the ship that picked me up in Griffonstone to come ho-" She stopped short, looked thoughtful, then stared at Celestia, her mouth opened and her eyes wide.
Celestia pursed her lips and looked away. "Just a... fortunate coincidence. Those things happen you know." She cleared her throat as Rubymane glaresmiled at her. "Aaaanway. Goldbolt is young. He may well grow into his responsibilities. Perhaps owning this magnificent library would put him into more of a scholastic state of mind." She gestured at the books that surrounded them.
"Bah! He'd keep the erotica and sell the rest! I'm leaving the library to Clementine. She'll use them properly. And I'll be covering her entry into the Academy when she's thirteen."
"Really? She's made that much of an impression on you? And you have erotica?" Celestia turned to look at the bookshelves with the appearance of increased scrutiny.
"Yes, yes, and a couple of novels in the foreign section, purely for the purposes of cultural research." Rubymane appeared to be interested in the ceiling tiles for some reason.
"Of course." Celestia cleared her throat once more and took on a more serious tone. "Ruby, I promise you that when we find Clementine, and we find out who she really is and what's happened to her, I'll deliver her to the Academy myself. We certainly can't have untrained adepts roaming the countryside frying hapless jesters, foalnappers or not."
"Not right away, I hope! I would still want to be her teacher, at least for a few years. And besides, she's not old enough."
"If she has this much power, Ruby, she's a threat to herself and everypony in a mile radius. Could you contain and bleed power from a panicked adept in the throes of a thaumaturgic feedback loop? Even in your prime?"
Ruby sighed. "No. But we don't know she did that." She gestured at the unfortunate Giacolto. "She could have been taken by a powerful unicorn."
"Why?" Celestia's brow furrowed.
"Why did she have that glamour on her? To hide her from somepony, I'm thinking."
"And would that somepony have suddenly noticed her after all these years, tucked inside a cart with a nullcloth bag over her head?"
Rubymane chewed her lower lip. "Anything could have happened," she said, stubbornly.
"Yes, I'm keeping an open mind. If she's still without power when we find her, of course she can stay here until she's of age, and you can tutor her and dote on her to your heart's content. But if she's a newly awakened mage..."
"No, no. I'm sorry. I'm being selfish again, wanting to keep her here in the backwoods with me, when all the knowledge of Canterlot could be at her beck and call. I'll have her enrolled in the prep school so she can be properly prepared when she's of age."
Celestia smiled warmly. "You'll visit her. You could take a house in the city and spend the season!" Celestia half looked like she wanted to prance in anticipation.
"No, no. Given the last ten years of neglect, I must have made a proper hash of the demesne. I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life putting into a decent state so that Goldbolt can wreck it again all on his own." She shuddered. "I am really not looking forward to opening the ledgers."
Celestia pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I've been considering building a proper highway from Canterlot to Baltimare. The Neighagra River, as you know, has unpassable rapids in several places. Not being able to ship bulk goods between Baltimare and Canterlot has seriously curtailed the development of the town, and that magnificent harbor. I need ships, Ruby. The Directorate is building ships. I need shipyards in Baltimare, and Baltimare needs commerce to attract all the craftsponies needed."
"And you're mentioning this now because?"
"Because Giacolto was here to scout out the route. The road between Saddleboro and Fetlock will be part of the project. He was also here to see how you were doing."
Rubymane frowned pensively. "That will bring many tradesponies through here. Businesses will start up. Prices will increase, ponies will leave their farms for better job opportunities. A whole way of life is going to change."
"Yes, but if living four lifetimes has proven anything to me, it's that change is inevitable. I will have to buy the right of way from you, Ruby. You'll be able to hire a proper estate manager. In fact, I know a pony who would be perfect and I can put her at your disposal. It will be better for everypony and you'll have time to visit Canterlot."
Rubymane was quiet for a moment. "It's very generous of you, Celestia, but that's taxpayer money. Ponies haven't been working their flanks off to earn me a comfortable retirement. And I haven't earned it myself this past decade, have I?"
There was a knock at the door. "Just a moment!" Celestia spoke in a low voice. "It's a strategic necessity and I insist. It's truly nothing I wouldn't offer to any other noble who's land happened to bestride the best route from the capital to Baltimare. And that's the end of it." She raised her voice again. "Come in!"
Mr. Glass entered, the guard closing the door behind him. He bowed. "Your highness."
"How go the preparations, Glass?"
"We've cleared the dining room out, and the kitchen is in an uproar. Her Ladyship's bed has been moved down and we have additional suitable furniture for you, ma'am, though I fear it may be a bit snug, begging your pardon."
Celestia smiled. "I'm sure it will be sufficient."
His voice dropped. "Master Galeheart and Mistress Surehoof's beds, ma'am, rotated and placed side by side. For the wings, ma'am."
"She's much better now, Glass. You won't have the trot on eggshells around her any more." His face started to light up, but he smothered it behind a mask of professionalism. "However, if you do have any eggshells, you may wish to save them for Dr. Starflare."
Mr. Glass nodded, "I will take that under advisement, ma'am. Is she bringing an assistant to help with the nursing?"
"No, and I would be obliged if you could find a pony who could serve in that capacity, perhaps the village wisemare?"
"I will send for Callie Flour right away ma'am."
"Thank you Glass, you are all that was advertised. Is there anything else?"
"One thing ma'am. One of our maids is not accounted for. A unicorn filly named Clementine. She had gone down to the village to speak to the wisemare about her Ladyship's diet, and I was expecting her back before luncheon. Is it possible she was detained by your highness' guards?" There was somewhat more than professional concern in the question.
"Glass, I will have to trust to your discretion."
"Of course, ma'am." His brows beetled slightly, but otherwise seemed unperturbed.
"Clementine is the reason for all this hubbub. She's gone missing, and the last pony to see her was Giacolto here."
"Has she been hurt!? Ma'am?" Dismay was not very well concealed behind his eyes.
"Not to my knowledge, Glass. I am doing all in my power to find her. But I shall need to know all about her that you know."
The butler blinked, then nodded glumly, "Of course, ma'am."
"Get Giacolto to bed, and Lady Rubymane as well, then finish with your preparations, get a good night's sleep and come see me tomorrow. I typically get up at dawn, if you weren't aware." She smiled and Glass's lip slightly quirked. "Is there anypony else here she is close to?"
"Cookie has been like a mother to that filly, ma'am."
"Bring her with you then. But first, be so good as to help Giacolto out of his costume, and carefully please. I'll keep him suspended."
Glass bent to his task and started unbuttoning the ruined particolor outfit. "What's this?"
Celestia quirked an eyebrow to see the exquisite red rose that Glass held up to her, which had been tucked into the costume. "It's lovely. Remarkable that it hasn't been crushed." She took it and placed it on the desk beside the bag while Glass quickly and carefully stripped the jester, then expertly folded and presented the costume to Celestia, who indicated it too should be placed on the desk.
Rubymane looked at the rose with interest, then Giacolto. "Good looking stallion, when he's not dressed like a clown." Then she looked at the rose again.
"I'll put him to bed, you do the same with your Lady, Glass. It's time you get some proper rest."
After the patients had been ensconced in their beds, Glass went to the kitchen and Celestia returned to the library. She picked up the costume, sensing the raw magic that still permeated the fabric, along with the stink of carbonized particolored silk. Adept or magister class talent. Untrained, ungoverned, and at the beck and call of an exceptionally intelligent filly who might be experiencing a psychotic break. She tsked quietly. Celestia, you could have made an excuse to come earlier, even last year. Perhaps an inspection of the repairs after the flood damage, though of course the spring floods were bad that year all across the southeast. A visit would have shown you the taint, the emptiness that leads to despair in some ponies and madness in others when they resort to the dark arts.
Her horn glowed and a drawer in the desk opened, revealing a pile of scraps of fabric and fragments of printed pages. The only reason she knew it was The Silly Prince is because Rubymane recognized the color of what was left of the bindings. It must have virtually exploded inside the drawer where they found it with the rest of Clementine's more scholarly books. Perhaps one of the Sensitives could examine it and try to make out if there was a magical signature on it, but Celestia could not sense anything. Rubymane said she thought it might have had something to do with what happened to Giacolto, given the strange deaths that had befallen the two rogues in their hideout in the woods earlier that year. She closed the drawer in frustration on the mystery.
Who ARE you? WHERE are you?
Somepony knocked at the door, three sharp raps. "Yes?"
The door opened and one of the earth pony guards entered and bowed his head. "Your highness, Dr. Starflare has-" a violet unicorn with a silvery mane done up in a tight Prench braid pushed past him, "-arrived."
"I was in surgery, Celestia. Dr. Sawhorse had to close for me. That stallion's scar is going to be somewhat more noticeable than it might have been when he heals up. I hope this isn't an ingrown pinfeather or something." The pretty, though severe looking doctor levitated a black bag behind her and placed it on the floor, taking a seat without being asked. She turned her head to the guard and glared at him as he retreated out the door, closing it behind him.
"Doctor, when was the last time I was personally in need of your services?"
"Never, but hope springs eternal, your highness." Gray eyes looked cooly at Celestia over round red-rimmed glasses. "Where is my patient?"
"Patients. Lady Rubymane is suffering from malnutrition and dehydration related to long-term depression, and Giacolto was struck by a powerful energy bolt and rather seriously injured."
Starflare stood immediately at the mention of Giacolto's name. "What has that idiot done noo? How bad is it?" She bit her lip.
Celestia had never seen Starflare flustered, or for that matter more than even mildly emotional. The Van Hooverian had been setting up her practice in Canterlot when Celestia grabbed her for the post of Royal Physician. Celestia never got sick and was extremely hard to injure, and had only appointed a Royal Physician because several of her noble advisers were insisting she needed to get one, while not so subtly attempting to advance their relatives. So she got a physician to silence them, but one wholly unconnected to court in order to vex them. The fact that Starflare served as an eternal fountain of sass and sarcasm was just a bonus.
"You and Giacolto?" Celestia raised both eyebrows. Almost five hundred years old and these ponies can still surprise me!
"It was just a couple of weeks last year! He made me laugh, and nopony does that. Of course, he's impossible and it would never have worked oot, but please, Celestia, where is he?"
"They're both in the dining room across the hall."
The doctor nodded and opened the door, her medical bag in her wake. She swept past the cringing guard, who closed the door behind her after glancing awkwardly at Celestia. That's not cowardice, merely self-preservation.
She returned to the desk and picked up the rose in her hoof. There was something about it. She looked closely at it and noticed there were no thorns. Not that they had been removed, but there was no sign that they had ever been there. Then she looked at the stem. It had not been cut; the bottom of it was sealed and rounded off. Well now.
She scanned it and saw that the rose was alive. It was circulating nutrients and fluids, and carrying off wastes, apparently from the end of the stem. It must still be sympathetically joined to the rose bush. I've never seen this. It's a new spell. She went to put the rose back, then paused, and left the library, making sure to smile encouragingly at the guardspony. She crossed the hall to the Dining Room, and entered. Four beds had been set up; Rubymane was sat up in one, with pillows allowing her to sit up. Her eyes were closed and she was snoring gently.
On the other end of the large room, Giacolto lay flat on his back on a smaller bed, probably one of the servants'. Dr. Starflare was scanning him magically, and had produced a clipboard. She was taking notes and appeared to be in an almost perfect state of concentration. I could probably yell in her ear and she wouldn't notice right now. She's got vinegar in her blood, but a house could drop on her when she was with a patient and she wouldn't flinch.
Celestia placed the rose on Giacolto's pillow. Starflare didn't notice. She knows she has two patients; she won't neglect Ruby, but Giacolto has injuries that must be tended to. Better leave her to her work.
Celestia noticed it was starting to get dark when the Top Wing of First Flight burst in the front door of the manor. Chief Master Sergeant Sugar Breeze, the senior NCO of Celestia's Air Corps, landed, removed her helmet, snapped to attention and saluted with a wing. She looked like she was all set to belt out at top volume, but noticed the beds and patients, and spoke in a soft tone. "Your highness, second and third squadrons are reporting to Captain Steelfeather as ordered." She was lathered after her six hour, nearly non-stop flight, latherin protein foam dripping from under her armor and helmet.
"Good job, Top. You look beat. Why don't you go check your eyelids for holes?"
"Saw some nice, soft looking clouds on the way in, ma'am. Thank you." Celestia nodded dismissal and the sergeant winged her way outside.
She looked at the doubled beds and found herself yawning as well. It's not the Royal Suite, but it'll do nicely. She concentrated and the last of the sun's rays sped across the western sky as the moon arose in the east. Then she yawned in earnest. That always takes the most out of me. The sun is so much easier. She walked to the bed, used her magic to arrange the blankets and pillows, then lay down on her side. The last thing she saw before closing her eyes was Starflare, her intense concentration unbroken.
She awoke in the middle of the night, with a thought in her mind. What if the pony that Clementine was being hidden from is ME? She tossed and turned for nearly an hour before drifting off again.
The false dawn woke her, as always. The sun was ready to rise, the moon ready to set. A brief moment's concentration and the moon set as the sun started its daily transit. And she was fully, immediately awake, though not as refreshed as she may have been.
She looked over at Rubymane and saw that the doctor had hooked her up to a medical apparatus last night. It appeared to be a glass bottle hanging from a pole, containing a clear solution that dripped regularly onto an iron plate. The glyphs and sigils of symbolic magic were inscribed onto the plate. Symbology was not Celestia's speciality, but she figured it must represent Rubymane, and iron was associated with blood magic. As each drop of fluid hit the plate, it vanished in a small flash of power.
The Baroness had much better color now, and her cheeks were fuller. She was sleeping, so Celestia decided to leave her be. She turned to look at Giacolto, and saw that he now had bandages wrapped around his midsection and that the burned hair from his coat had been removed. The burned skin was covered in a clear salve. A bandage bound his head, as well. He was asleep, but it didn't seem to be the restful sort; he had not yet regained consciousness.
She looked at the final occupant of the room. Dr. Starflare was sprawled on her bed, fully dressed, snoring. She had clearly worked all night and exhausted herself. It also seemed, Celestia noted, that her bed had been moved rather closer to Giacolto's. Those two? Seriously?
She glanced back at the rose, still thriving. A new spell. If this was Clementine's spell, either she already knows magic she learned outside of Equestria from before the glamour, or... she's a wildmage . The princess frowned, not certain which possibility she prefered. Perhaps it was a third party. But in any case, why the rose?
She left the room and crossed the hall to the library, her guards snapping to attention. She shushed them and they nodded, opening the door. The desk and chairs had been arranged, and somepony had found a large piece of plywood for her map board. It was resting on the windowseat for the moment, presumably until the carpenter could be engaged. No word means no news.
There was a knock. "Yes?"
One guard poked his head in. "You asked to see the butler and cook, your highness?"
"Yes. Please send them both in." Were this a criminal investigation, she wouldn't be interviewing two suspects at the same time, but according to Ruby, her two most important servants were also her two longest-serving, and predated Clementine's arrival by more than a decade. She smiled graciously as they were led in, attempting to put them at ease. The guard waved them in, then backed out of the library, softly closing the door behind him.
Cookie was practically knock-kneed, shrinking back from her sovereign even as she dipped in an ungainly curtsy. Glass she knew by now, of course, and he was more relaxed, but still quite formal as he bowed.
She nodded in return. "Be at ease, goodponies. I am aware of your long and faithful service to my good friend, Baroness Rubymane, and I am grateful. I have to reason to think that you may be able to assist our guards in locating Miss Clementine. Please understand that I wish only to find her and to help her."
Cookie swallowed a lump of fear, then Glass spoke up. "How may we assist you, ma'am?"
"Why don't we all have a seat? Some tea perhaps?"
"I shall fetch it straight away, ma'am." With royalty in the house, the best tea service was always on standby, kept hot and periodically dumped and refreshed by the kitchen staff.
"That shant be necessary, Glass." She concentrated and the tea service, trolley and all, flashed into existence at the side of the desk.
"Would you allow me the honor, ma'am?" Mr. Glass bowed while Cookie caught her breath. Celestia nodded and Glass expertly poured a cup of steaming hot tea with his hooves, giving her the one lump of sugar he no doubt knew was her preference through whatever murky back-channels he had with Palace staff back at Canterlot.
"Glass, I truly do appreciate your adherence to protocol, but I grant you my permission to use magic in my presence. We're not at court right now; this is an informal interview. And please, pour tea for Cookie and yourself." Mr. Glass smiled broadly, knowing the compliment that was being paid not just to himself, but to his Lady, even though she was convalescing in the dining room. His horn glowed and two more cups were filled in short order.
"Sit, sit! Relax!" Celestia used magic to pull up three chairs in a circle and she sat in the largest, with Cookie and Mr. Glass giving each other slightly abashed glances before sitting gingerly, as though worried what the other might think.
"Cookie, would there happen to be something under that silver dome that might break the fast of the royal stomach?" Celestia's eyes rested on the covered serving tray.
"Oh!" Cookie stood up. "Yes ma'arm! Indeed ma'arm!" She picked up the tray, removed the cover, and the smell of warm scones filled the room. "Raspberry, blueberry, and ma'arm, if I moight, suggest the cranberry-pecan?"
"With rosemary!?" Celestia's nostrils involuntarily flared.
"I don't know no other way to make 'em, ma'arm." Cookie was all smiles as Celestia's horn glowed and the savory scone was swept off the tray to a plate suspended in front of the princess. Butter was liberally applied and Celestia motioned for them to have the other two scones while she munched on hers, smacking in a rather less than royal manner.
"I'm sorry Cookie, but the palace is going to have to requisition this recipe." Celestia, through force of will, did not gobble the whole thing, but instead waited politely for the servants to catch up, so they could drink tea and speak of important matters. "Well then," she said, sipping her tea, "let us talk about our little friend. Cookie, I understand that you found her a bit more than seven years ago?"
"Yes ma'arm. It was in late spring."
"Tell me what you found." Celestia concentrated closely, trying to visualize as the cook spoke.
"Well ma'arm, it was a black coach, overturned in a ditch on the side of the road about a mile out of Saddleboro. I was on me way back from market with me own cart for produce and all, and I unhitched and went over to see if there were anypony hurt. And I found that little blue-eyed mite, all alone, in a rut under the coach, crying for her mama."
"And there was nopony else about you say? Any blood, any signs of violence? Was the foal hurt?"
"No ma'arm, nothing, and little Clementine weren't hurt, just scared and all alone, her and her blanket."
Celestia's eyebrows rose. "Blanket? You wouldn't still happen to have it?"
"Yes ma'arm! I've kept it for when she grows up and find her special somepony and has a foal of 'er own. Thought she might want it."
"Cookie, you treasure, would you mind fetching it back here for me? Please? I'll keep your tea warm." Celestia's horn glowed gently.
"Right away ma'arm!" Cookie rose, curtsied ponderously, then left the room at her best speed. Glass regarded his monarch cautiously over the rim of his teacup.
"Glass, I sense that you might have some observations you would like to share."
"Ma'am, if you will permit me." Celestia nodded. "When Clementine was brought here, I was aware Cookie had a fosterling, but I could never recall seeing the child. It wasn't until a strange fire in the kitchen this winter that I was made particularly aware of her presence. Clementine put the fire out, and I knew that Lady Rubymane would wish to meet her, to thank her, for this action."
"Remarkable for a child of... eight? Nine, perhaps?"
"Yes, ma'am. It was the strangest thing, though in hindsight now it makes sense of course. I told her ladyship about it but then I was surprised to see her when she did show up. I thought I must have had more pressing matters and this meeting had just slipped my mind. Her Ladyship appointed her to the position of 'Maid of the Library,' if you will. And then I forgot all about her again!"
Celestia nodded, sipping her tea and finishing the scone, blotting up every last scrumptious crumb with well-practiced magic. "Do go on, Glass."
"Ma'am, it wasn't until after the awful events down in town that I even noticed her again. And then, it was only because she was under my desk, tying a loop of her hair to my leg!" He rolled up his sleeve to show the golden braid, causing Celestia to blink.
"THAT'S what her hair looks like? May I?" Glass unwrapped it and gave it to her immediately. Celestia lifted the locks with magic, turning them in the sunlight that streamed through the windows of the library. " And here I thought she looked like a wet dishrag. Remarkable. Lovely. She'd be the toast of Canterlot with a mane like that. So... sympathetic resonance allowed you to focus on her?"
"I'm not very strong on theory, ma'am, but I think so."
"May I keep it?"
"Of course ma'am. Do you think it may help you find her?" He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a second loop. "This is the hair that Lady Rubymane took from her. Would you like it as well?"
"You care for her, don't you Glass?"
"Very much, ma'am. She's a good girl. She cares deeply for her ladyship, and she's sharp."
"A sample of her mane can only help to find her. Here, you take this one back; it's her gift to you, after all. I'll take the one Lady Rubymane wore." Glass nodded and exchanged locks of hair with her, refastening it on his foreleg, while Celestia moved the other lock to the desk with the rest of the evidence.
"Any other observations?"
"Ma'am, I did speak with her only two nights ago. We discussed this glamour, and I mentioned that I thought she had a very mature disposition for somepony of her age. And I asked her how she had learned to read. She did not remember."
At that, Celestia's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"
Glass swallowed sharply as the royal interest fell upon him with greater focus. "Ma'am, I think that among the glamour and the protective spell that saved her in the woods from those brigands, she may also be under an age spell. She may be older that she appears to be. Or, appeared to be."
Celestia shot up. "We've been assuming she's eight or nine! She could be twice that age or more!" Celestia's heart beat faster as the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place. "The search radius... she could be twenty miles outside the search circle by now! GUARDS!"
The Canterlot Voice rebounded around the room, staggering Glass. The room was instantly crowded with four burly royal guardsponies, eyeing the butler suspiciously. "No, no, he's fine. Tell Captain Steelfeather we may be... we are! We are looking for a mare, not a filly, with a white coat, blue eyes and a mane that's..." she lifted the circlet of hair," like spun gold, like this! Bring it to him and show him, then bring it back. And tell him to throw the search circle out another thirty miles, she could be halfway to Manehattan by now."
The guards stared at her dumbfounded, but one sergeant rallied quickly, grabbing the lock of hair from her magical grasp. "Immediately, your highness!" They swept out of the room, closing the door behind them. One figure remained behind; Giacolto stood on slightly shaky legs.
"Giacolto! Thank the stars!" Celestia crossed the room and tenderly enfolded him in her wings. "If I knew I could shout you out of your bed, I would have done it yesterday!"
He smiled weakly, then tottered. She caught him with her magic, then brought a chair. "You are going straight back to bed. Glass, would you be kind enough to fetch the doctor? And my apologies for your suit jacket."
"The tea will come out, ma'am. I'll return with the doctor at once."
After the butler left, Giacolto looked up at his princess, his face grim. "Your highness, I have failed you."
"Don't be ridiculous. You accidentally foalnapped a magister unicorn for me; it's a miracle you're in one piece, much less alive." Celestia ran her hoof through his mane in a motherly fashion. "I'm so happy you're back with us, you silly pony."
"The Silly Prince!"
"Yes, you are a prince among... wait. The book? What of it!?" Celestia was suddenly all business.
"We were in it! I was taking her to the safehouse in Saddleboro and suddenly I was a character in some adventure story being chased by a dragon, an earth pony... I really should read that book. Is there a copy in the library?"
Celestia raised an eyebrow, then opened the drawer, pulling the exploded mess of a book out of it.
"Ah."
"You're not surprised?" Celestia raised an eyebrow.
"Not at all. That spell started coming apart when I put the bag over her head. All the spells did."
"Including her age spell?"
Now Giacolto raised an eyebrow. "How did you figure that out?"
"I'm an alicorn. We have our ways. Now shush, the doctor will be here." She returned the remains of the book to the drawer.
"But where is she? Please?" His voice broke.
"I have half the Royal Guard out there looking for her now." Celestia soothed him with a wingtip as his eyes rolled in sheer agitation.
"No, your highness. I have to find her. I have to find her now!"
"No, your highness? I haven't heard that one in about four hundred years." She gave him her best motherly stare, but it bounced off.
"I'm in love with her. I need to find her, to protect her. My Clémence. I need to keep her safe, your highness. She's not ready to protect herself, and she's in great danger." His voice was weaker but he still started straight at her with an earnestness that she'd only seen a few times, even in her long life.
"She nearly put a hole in your wide enough to drive a cart through, and you think she can't protect herself? And you barely know her. How do you go from putting a bag over her head and throwing her into a cart to being in love in under three hours?" She was genuinely puzzled. While she understood romantic love on a theoretical level, and took particular pleasure in matchmaking among her friends, in practice, romance had always eluded her. Of course, the prospect of watching my lovers grow old and die while I stay young forever doesn't help me relate. Clémence?!
Giacolto thought of that final moment of annihilating fury when the two of them were alone at the last instants of a universe, however fictional, sharing perfect, infinite oneness. "I guess you had to be there, princess. Please, she's in danger. Somepony... something... wants her." Then his strength gave out and he sagged in her cradling wings.
Mr. Glass returned with the doctor. "Now, now what are you doing out of bed, eh?" The violet unicorn ran a quick scan down his ribs, her silvery mane spilling messily where it had come unbraided in the night. "Didn't rip open a lung, at least. Mr. Glass, could you help us oot?"
The butler supported one side of the fainting party pony while Starflare took the other. She looked at Celestia and scowled. "You have to give him time to rest up, Princess! No more parties for a week! And no jackanapes neither!"
Mr. Glass stared in shock as Celestia bowed her head. "Sorry doctor, I promise not to play with him again for at least a week." Celestia smiled as Mr. Glass and Dr. Starflare helped their patient out the door. Before the door could close, Cookie entered, holding a parcel wrapped in paper.
She looked about, concerned. "I'm sorry, your highness, did I miss all the excitement?"
"Cookie, my sincerest apologies, but I fear I allowed your tea to grow cold. Mr. Glass proved most informative and I feel we are closer than ever to locating Clém...Clementine. Tell me something though. You said she was crying for her mama? Do you mean she was just a small child, crying, and you assumed it was for her mother?"
"Oh, no your... ma'am. She was crying mama, mama. Actually, it was ma-ma , ma-ma. " Cookie put the emphasis on the second syllable. "Sounded a bit off but she was all choked up."
Celestia nodded quietly. "Thank you Cookie. May I have the blanket?"
The cook give it over with a smile. "Such a lovely shade of blue, this blanket. Please find her safe, ma'am. I love 'er something terrible."
As Celestia held the parcel, a feeling of dread clawed at her heart. "Thank you Cookie. It has been a great pleasure, and please, I would have you come to Canterlot and show my cooks how to make those scones. When you can be spared from your duties here. It was wonderful." She fought hard to keep a smile on her face while her heart pounded in her chest. Please please please please just go!
Cookie smiled and curtsied, "Ma'am I'm ever so thankful to have met you. And if you need anything, just ring!" She slowly made her way out of the library and closed the door behind her.
Celestia's smile cracked like a porcelain vase dropped onto a marble floor. The package glowed and the paper was whipped off, revealing the royal blue baby blanket, with the white crescent moon in one darkened corner.
Oh sister, what are you up to now?
Clementine bent and sipped from the stream, then rinshed the dust and mud from her hooves. Dawn was nearly on her, and she knew it was time to get under cover. Celestia's pegasus patrols were flying search patterns in the distance, light from the over the horizon glinting off their armor. For a short time, she could see them, while they couldn't see her, but when the sun was up, her movement through the forest could catch the eye. Even if the cloak concealed her bright white coat and golden hair, she knew from reading excerpts from letters sent home from the Dragon Wars in "Historia Coram Reginae," that the movement of vegetation and the flight of startled birds could easily give her away. She thought of her books, of all those books in the library, and sighed.
She saw a likely bush and walked towards it, checking for animal dens, ant hills and wasp's nests in the dim light. She knew she could make a bright light easily with her horn simply by allowing her magic to flow into it, but she also knew she might as well light a signal fire for her pursuers. She frowned and brushed brambles and leaves from the cloak with her forehooves. Lady Rubymane had mentioned a Nightvision spell, but there had been no discussion as to how it would work. And as always, when she considered magic, her thoughts went to— No! She pushed the intrusive thought back down.
With one final glance up to the dark blue sky above, her eye caught sight of the full moon on the horizon, between two forested hills to the west. She smiled at it. The moonlight had been all that allowed her to travel at all, last night, and she felt grateful. On impulse, she whispered, "Thank you," then awkwardly removed the saddlebags, placing them as a pillow as she set out the dark cloak upon the soft humus and decaying leaves that lined the floor of the forest. She laid herself down on her ersatz bed, realizing for the first time just how sore she was from walking a dozen miles at night in a body that was, after all, less than a day old. She tried to keep her eyes open as she watched the moon set, but found she could not.
She was in blackness. There was no sensation of drifting off, no sensation of anything, not even that of floating, just oblivion, yet she found herself thinking, Am I dreaming?
"Of course thou dost dream!" The voice was a powerful, rich contralto, one made for singing opera or making important pronouncements in archaic court ponish. "Thou wert exhausted, and fellest straight into delta sleep. Doubtless, thou wilt be stiff come the morrow, but for now, thou art ours! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"
There was a manic edge to the ringing laughter that would have frightened Clementine yesterday, but given the day's events, she found herself beyond caring. She was launching herself into the Everfree after all, but still, she was curious. "And you are?"
"Thy benefactor, of course! Didst thou not thank us before thou did close thine eyes and entered our realm? Most courteous, we must say. Few think to thank us for our aid, these accursed days."
"You are the moon?"
"We are the night!" The statement reverberated powerfully in the nothingness around her. "We merely resideth upon the moon, for the nonce," the voice continued, sounding somewhat chagrined.
Clementine thought about her readings in history, and there was only one creature she knew of who lived on the moon. Ah, the royal we. "Princess Luna?"
"Sayest thou not that name! 'Tis the name of a coward, and a weakling! 'Tis not worthy of our ears! Our name is Nightmare Moon!" The voice was angry, snarling. The darkness in front of Clementine started to swirl, to become patchy, as a form materialized in front of her. It was difficult to see at first, seeming more like a shape that drank in light when none was available, almost a perfect blackness compared to the nothingness in the background. Then a pair of glowing turquoise almond-shaped eyes opened, and in the dim light they cast, she could see a pony nearly as tall as Princess Celestia, though black as pitch, her head protected by a midnight blue, open-faced helm, and wearing a pectoral of the same material, upon which shone a platinum crescent.
The apparition's pupils were slitted like that of a snake, and she grinned evilly, her long, pointed tongue licking over razor teeth that had no right to be in the mouth of an equine. A tall, nobly proportioned black horn spiraled gracefully from her forehead, and her mane and tail flowed as though in a gentle breeze, much like Princess Celestia's, except that instead of colorful auroras, it seemed that they held stars, glowing blue nebulae, and the cold emptiness of deep space.
Out of reflex, Clementine curtsied and bowed her head.
The turquoise eyes widened, and the creature took a step back, her hoof going to her mouth in shock. "By the black stars! Ah, that is, arise."
Clementine looked up and slowly stood. This is the oddest dream I've ever had.
Nightmare Moon cleared her throat, seemingly uncertain. "It has been many centuries since we have been rendered the honor of courtesy from an Equestrian. Dost thou not fear us? Art thou not terrified of our horrible countenance? Dost thou not see us as monstrous?"
"If your highness will forgive me, outward appearance does not a monster make." Clementine bowed her head again.
"Ah, child, we have haunted the dreams of ponies for generations! Delighted in their fear! T'is that not sufficiently monstrous for thee?" Nightmare Moon grinned as she leaned toward Clementine, leering.
"Once again, your highness, forgive me if that doesn't seem so terrible. Unless you've frightened ponies to death, that is."
Nightmare Moon's face fell. "What? No! We would not!" Her voice was shocked. "T'was ever only our wish, to be appreciated for our work, and to be beloved of our subjects as our sister is." She frowned, looking down at her hooves. "We perform a service, even as we are, helping ponies deal with unresolved issues in their dreams, though our methods be now harsher than they once were." She narrowed her eyes, and seemed to shimmer, the helmet vanishing, her fangs appearing to retract until they were almost equine. The shape of her head was elegant, and her high, pointed ears were alert. Her voice softened as she spoke. "Thou hast done us a kindness, both with thy courtesy and thy willingness to engage in a conversation without screaming in terror. Such opportunities are rare these days, and thy speech alarms us with its earnest seriousness. Tell us what troubles thee; perhaps we can be of aid. We shall be quiet for a while. And focus." The bat-winged alicorn frowned in concentration. "We can focus. Now, speak!"
"I thank your highness, but unless you can restore life to the dead, I don't know what you can do to help me." Nightmare Moon's eyes narrowed but she said nothing. "I have slain three ponies and caused a fourth to cast black magic. T'is that not sufficiently monstrous for thee?" Clementine smiled weakly.
Nightmare Moon blinked twice. "We detect no malice in thy mind, only anguish. We have been in the dreams of murderers afore now, and they have been most unpleasant. Selfish, cruel, and vain are such ponies, or maddened with fury. They blame everypony else for what they have done, when thinketh they about it. Thou, however, appearth to blame thyself alone. Perhaps we could guide thee in thy dreams, to aid thee in dealing with thy guilt. But neighcromancy," the exiled princess shuddered, "is anethema. Even a creature such as us, in the depths of our rage, could never countenance such."
"Neighcromancy?" Clementine looked at Nighmare Moon with a mixture of hope and desperation. "What is that?"
"Magic for communicating with and, in theory, reviving the dead. But it never works out well." Black brows frowned above turquoise eyes. "There are some doors that should never be opened, and that is the blackest, most dangerous portal, for there are things besides the merely dead that lurk behind it. Things that even the deepest pits of Tartarus would bar." She closed her eyes and turned her head. "Cold, hungry things. Put it out of thy mind. Now, thinkest thou back to thy trauma. Let it rise around thee, the setting, the ponies involved, all of it."
Suddenly, Clementine was back in The Silly Prince, within the lair of the bandits as they battled Prince Silverhoof. Calmly and efficiently, she took his rapier from where it had fallen, and dispatched Plowneck, followed by Shivershanks.
Plowneck turned his head and rolled over, the pool of blood below him spreading. "We didn't deserve this."
Through his one unruined eye, Shivershanks stared blankly at the roof of their hut. "We were just messing with you. We weren't really going to hurt you."
Silverhoof started in horror at the bloody rapier. "You're a murderess! I think I'm going to be sick!" Then he vomited thick blood that splattered her white forequarters as she looked on, impassively.
She found herself in the forest outside, Lady Rubymane standing in front of her. "I must protect you from yourself!" The lady's eyes and horn glowed a blackish green, and the blood seemed to wash off Clementine's coat, but in doing so it splashed all over Rubymane's horn, flowing down into her eyes, which now glowed red. The elderly noblemare screamed in pain and rage and vanished, leaving her alone, surrounded by the villagers.
Sourhops and Callie scowled at her. "Now look at what you've done!" they both cried.
The world whirled around her, and she was back in The Silly Prince, as the universe shredded itself. Silverhoof, Hollyhock, Deathworm and Everheart surrounded her, as Giacolto removed the horn coffle. He looked deeply into her eyes as the others dissolved, then kissed her deeply. She responded with enthusiasm, and then they were alone in the forest glade.
Clementine backed away and glared at him. "Why did you kiss me, Giacolto?"
He smiled, his eyes shining. "Because I love you." Then she lowered her horn and blasted a hole through his chest.
She stood, looking down at her victim as smoke rose from the cavity where his heart had been. He was still smiling as he said, "Clémence, your papa and mama loved you very much." Then his eyes closed as he too dissolved.
She was alone, the Interface all around her, the nothingness of primal chaos the only thing in existence, except for Nightmare Moon, who stared at her in shock and horror. "Clémence?"
"I suppose, your highness. All I remember from before is being Clementine, but Clementine was a scrawny, plain, clumsy filly, and magically crippled. Not the toothsome, magical murderess you now see before you." She flipped her mane, wishing that she could catch the ethereal wind that caused Nightmare Moon's mane and tail to wave. To her surprise, her hair also started to flow in the spectral breeze, and she grinned at the dream princess. "Ha! Maybe I'm a secret alicorn princess as well!"
"Things have gone wrong for you, Clémence, but not that wrong." Nightmare Moon appeared to recover from her shock. "That is a curse we would wish on nopony. This is your dream, and you have a strong will, so you can direct events within it, to a certain extent. We take it the visions we have seen thus far were allegorical?"
Clémence shrugged. "Not really. My victims didn't talk to me after I killed them, and some of the details are off, but that's basically what I did." Giacolto appeared before her once more, lying on a bed of red roses, his eyes open to the sky. "Your highness, did you ever love anypony? I mean, a stallion?"
The alicorn princess closed her eyes and nodded, sighing.
"Did you kill him?" Clémence's voice was very small as she gently ran a hoof along the cool cheek of the party pony.
"I watched him die." Nightmare Moon's voice was roughened with emotion, and she seemed to forget to refer to herself in the plural. "I watched him grow old, while I stayed young. In the end, he didn't recognize me. I haven't spoken his name in over four hundred years, but I still think about him every night."
A unicorn stallion of truly heroic proportions strode out of the darkness, coal black with startling white markings and piercing blue eyes. He wore a cape of royal blue, a glittering rapier at his side, and when he stopped, he bowed before the princess. Nightmare Moon seemed to shrink somewhat, to brighten, and suddenly in that moment she was Luna, her coat a midnight blue, her wings feathered, and her mane and tail now shining with galaxies and comets. Her soft, gentle eyes were bright with unshed tears.
Clémence had never imagined such a beautiful couple could exist, and she felt her heart skip a beat.
The stallion rose with grace and ease, and swept towards Luna, capturing her in an embrace, and a deep, passionate kiss. The princess shuddered, and then he blew away like he was made of smoke, leaving her standing alone. She moaned wretchedly, as the tears spilled down her cheeks, then lay down with her head in her forehooves, sobbing.
Clémence took a step towards Luna, but stopped as the princess shook her head and stood. Luna turned to look at her, a small, sad smile on her face.
"We cannot ourselves dream. We are the magister of dreams for all ponykind, but the release of dreamtime is denied us. T'would be dangerous if we allowed our subconscious free reign. Our darkling dream could escape into the real world, and that would have dreadful consequences for reality. But thou hast allowed us to reside within thy thoughts without fear, without hatred, and gave us our own space within them. We did not know we would ever see him again, as we once did, when we dared to dream. Before our madness. We are in your debt."
Luna twisted her neck and looked at herself, her wings, her cutie mark, and continued smiling. She turned to face Clémence once more, her eyes still glittering with moisture. "It is important to grieve, young one. We should remember our ghosts, and honor them, and greet them when we see them in our dreams, but we cannot allow them to hold places in our lives that should be taken by the living. So let us meet your Giacolto. Let us see why you loved him."
Images now seemed to whirl around her, of Barley Barrel, and Giacolto in his ridiculous outfits, and finally of him holding her in the clearing, gazing into her eyes with pure devotion, the sweet taste of him in her mouth. His silly songs and hijinks made her giggle, and Luna guffawed as he ran around being chased by Callie Flower. For a few wonderful moments, she felt the ease of their rapport as they bantered back and forth, making each other smile, paying one other backhanded compliments on the quiet road back to the manor. She recalled the strangely erotic sensation of being foalnapped by a handsome spy, then the confusion as she felt the spells that had bound her unravelling inside the anti-magic bag.
She experienced that final, roaring moment inside The Silly Prince, when he kissed her so deeply and passionately, as though both their lives depended upon it, and her repressed sexuality came roaring to life. The red hot need she didn't recognize except now in retrospect shocked her, and she blushed, seeing that her memories were now lurching towards fantasy, as he pushed her down in the quiet glade, and she surrendered herself willingly, with the greatest delight.
She glanced at Luna. "That last bit didn't actually happen, your highness."
"A pity. T'is the best part." Luna smirked. "Ah, what our sister doesn't know about life." Her face fell. "Curses. We should not have given her thought. We must leave thee for now, but we shall visit thee again. Thou hast interesting dreams that we would see more of, and thy mind is a comfortable respite for us." Luna started to grow and darken, and in a moment, Nightmare Moon stood before her, her fangs and eyes shining. "But it could not be so for long. We leave thee with one royal command. Cry for thy love. Properly. Feel thy loss, not thy guilt. Dwell upon it for a while. Let it change thee. Thou wilt be the better for it."
Clémence's eyes flew open. She lay under the bush in shade from the noonday sun, listening to the chirps of birds and the whispers of a breeze in the treetops. She thought back to her extraordinary dream, and imagined Giacolto here with her, the warmth of his body next to her, muttering some nonsense in her ear, or perhaps singing some ridiculous song for her entertainment, and she smiled. Then she went cold. That will never happen. We will never laugh together. We will never make love under the light of the moon. I will never bear his foals. Because he's dead.
She couldn't breathe. Her throat had closed up as though some invisible pony was choking her. She couldn't inhale through her nose either, as it had started to suddenly run. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she managed a shuddering gasp. She wasn't thinking about anything, just experiencing physical and psychic pain as terrible, grinding shakes came in waves. Her eyes burned, and felt like they were swollen and caked with salt from all the tears she shed. She coughed and sputtered, groaned and beat her hooves against the ground, then put up her head and wailed in despair.
Part of her wanted to stop. Stupid! Somepony will be able to hear this blubbering! It was a filly's infatuation! But it didn't matter, the emotions were too raw and right now she didn't care if a patrol found her or a Manticore did. She buried her face under her forelegs and screamed into the cloak that served as a blanket. His cloak. She screamed again in anguish, wanting the forest to just swallow her up and consume her, then she took a deep breath though the cloak as she crushed her face to it. His scent.
That thought seemed to calm her, or perhaps it was just that she was already exhausted, and the crying jag had taken her last reserves of energy. She lay there and wept, sobbing quietly for a few more minutes, before sleep claimed her again. Just as she lost consciousness she thought she heard a voice say, "Well done."
Celestia steepled her hooves in thought below her chin as she looked at the map. The officers had taken it down from the stand and laid it flat on the table, to be better able to show current positions of patrol elements. Each squadron of six pegasi was divided into three sections of two ponies each, so nine markers were being periodically pushed around in the numerous sectors that the Captain Steelfeather had designated. The sectors in open terrain were much larger than those within the surrounding woods, as they were easier to search and could be scanned from higher altitude.
Four pairs of unicorns and earth ponies from the other detachments searched the roads and made inquiries of passersby, leaving only the absolute minimum of four body guards for the royal pony, two of whom were now updating the map with sector search times, while the other two stood guard outside the library door. I'd raise the hue and cry, but that would alert every Directorate spy on the continent, and hundreds of militia running and flying around would result in injuries, damage to property, and if they were to encounter the fugitive maid, they might hurt her. Or provoke her into hurting them, more likely.
As the search radius expanded, it became that much harder to control the patrolling units; communication delays were becoming a serious issue. It had gotten so that the westernmost elements had taken to patrolling with one pegasus and using the other to run messages back and forth from the manor. Vox Proculi were hard to come by, and unfortunately, Giacolto's had been broken when Clementine's – no, Clémence's – magister class bolt of power sent him flying through the woods. One vox by itself was useless, and she had neither the time, equipment, or painstaking temperament to either repair the broken one or make a new one. I shall have to invest in a new manufactory at Canterlot and employ some artisans. For that matter, I'd better offer a number of scholarships for the Magical Artificer program at the Royal Academy to get some more artisans in the pipeline. The new fleet will require many voces if it is to protect us from Prance.
She looked up as a pretty cream-colored pegasus with a flowing blonde mane who was wearing a blue jumpsuit entered the library, goggles pushed up on her forehead. She placed a dispatch case on the desk and curtsied, as a civilian would to her princess, not a salute from a soldier to her commander. Celestia nodded and smiled, taking the dispatch case up with her magic. Someday, I'll have to come up with a better way to deliver messages. As fast as she is, she's got a two hour, high altitude flight back to Canterlot. The princess removed a half dozen scrolls from the case and placed a single scroll containing the day's notes for her councilors back in the case.
"What's your name?" Celestia was eye to eye with the messenger, even though she was sitting. "i don't remember meeting you before."
The pegasus' blue eyes widened and she smiled broadly. "Marigold Merryweather, your highness." The Pegasus Express courier curtsied again, even though it wasn't required by protocol.
Celestia smiled back. "Marigold, would you mind waiting while I go through these to see if anything needs an immediate reply? Why not sit with me for a while and have a cup of tea?" Her voice lowered. "I love my soldiers, but I could use a little civilian company for a while."
Celestia used her magic to pull up a chair across the desk from her while levitating a teapot and pouring out a cup. Marigold, open-mouthed with shock, sank into the chair. "Your highness, my parents are never going to believe me when I tell them about this."
"Probably not. Do you like cake? I like cake. I'm the princess, so when I want cake, I get it." Her magic picked up and rang a bell. "I even have a special cake bell." Marigold spit her tea back into her cup trying to stifle a laugh.
A moment later, Gooseberry entered, bearing an engraved silver tray in one hoof, an assortment of tarts and small cakes artfully arranged upon it. She curtsied, then held the tray out to Celestia.
"Thank you, Gooseberry, dear. You can just leave the tray."
The maid nodded and placed the tray at the edge of the desk.
Celestia frowned. "Are you judging me?"
Gooseberry's eyes bulged. "No, your highness!" Marigold stopped drinking in mid-sip, horrified.
"It's no use lying. I can hear your thoughts, you know." Celestia's mane seemed to wave more vigorously that usual.
Gooseberry was shaking. "Your highness! I'm sorry! But three platters of cake before lunch? Seriously?"
Celestia's eyes widened, and time seemed to stand still. Then she started laughing. "Oh goodness, I'm not a mind reader! But you should have seen your face!" Celestia's laugh echoed in the room as Gooseberry collapsed with relief, and Marigold chortled along. The officers looked up from the map and grinned at each other, seeing their princess getting another one.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Celestia sputtered between giggles. "That was cruel, I know, but you wouldn't believe the things I have to do to get ponies to tell me what they really think!" She attempted to look contrite. "Please, you're right, I should not eat all this cake by myself, so do me a favor and join us." A third chair was carried to the desk and the wheezing Goosberry plopped down in it.
"Your highness, I thought you were going to to turn me into a frog right then and there!" The maid was fanning herself as her purple coat flushed plum.
"Oh piffle, I haven't turned anypony into a frog in years. Toads are far more fashionable these days!" All three laughed as Celestia divided the cakes up, levitating one piece each to the three at the table and two more pieces to the map table. The officers nodded their thanks to their sovereign and got back to work, munching and washing the snacks down with black coffee. Then she served the surprised maid a cup of tea.
"Your highness, pardon my asking, but do you often pour tea for the staff?" Gooseberry nibbled delicately on one of Cookie's lemon tarts.
"I'm almost six hundred years old. I'm entitled to a few eccentricities." Celestia took a chunk out of a slice of velvet cake with cream cheese frosting and licked her lips. "If my life was nothing but ceremony, governance, and being waited on, I'd go quite mad." She smiled warmly. "So, I'm going to take a few minutes to enjoy your company, and yours," she nodded to Marigold, "before digging into these dispatches." She took a swig of tea and washed down her mouthful. "Tell us about yourself, Gooseberry."
"Me? Your highness?" Celestia nodded, encouragingly. "Oh, well, there's nothing special about me. I grew up on a farm and when I was old enough, my mother brought me to the manor and I was taken into Lady Rubymane's service. That was about six years ago, I guess, your highness."
"Do you ever miss the farm? Your family?" Celestia leaned back in her chair, relaxing.
"Well, my family, yes. My da died two years ago, your highness. He was trying to get our cow out of the pasture when the rains hit and they were both swept away." A cloud passed over her garnet eyes as Celestia leaned forward and put a hoof out to pat hers. "Thank you, your highness. But I don't miss working on the farm, certainly not. Inside work suits me much better. And with the bits I've been able to put aside, I was able to get my ma, I mean, my mother, another cow, and help pay for the repairs."
"I'd say you're wrong, Gooseberry. There is something special about you. You're thrifty, generous and a dutiful daughter." The maid blushed and looked down. "And modest. And you don't speak like a farm girl, if you don't mind me saying so."
"Thank you, your highness. My mother insisted that I learn to speak Ponish correctly. She said with my coloring and markings," she indicated the white diamond on her face, "and with proper diction, I'd stand out from the other earth pony fillies seeking service. So my parents paid for lessons." Her voice lowered. "It's so hard competing with unicorns for inside work, your highness. I suppose that unicorn nobles prefer the company of their own kind, even as servants, same as most folks."
"You're the only earth pony who works upstairs, aren't you?" Celestia sipped her tea thoughtfully.
"Yes, your highness. The others work in the kitchen or the gardens."
"One day, when Equestrians look at one another, they won't see unicorns, or pegasi, or earth ponies. They'll just see ponies." Celestia smiled at Gooseberry. "Do you believe that?"
"I'll say yes, your highness, but only because I know you can't read my mind." Gooseberry gave a lopsided grin as both Celestia and Marigold laughed.
"What about your cutie mark?"
Gooseberry looked sheepish. "It's kind of silly, your highness."
"Let's see it." Celestia cocked an eyebrow and leaned over the side of the desk, so the maid shrugged and lifted the side of her uniform.
"A violin! Could you get your instrument? I'd love to hear you play!"
Gooseberry dropped her hem, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry, your highness. I had to sell my fiddle to help pay for the repairs and the cow."
"Of course. Very commendable that you would give up your pastime to help your family." Celestia sighed. "Very well. Thank you Gooseberry, but I fear we've been neglecting Marigold. Miss Merryweather? Let's hear your story."
"No drama here, your highness. I just like to fly. Both my parents like to fly. My brothers both like to fly." She shrugged her wings. "Flying cutie marks all around, everypony is still alive. We aren't brainiacs like the unicorns, and I guess we don't have that thrifty earth pony work ethic either." She smiled and gave Gooseberry a sidelong glance. "Sorry about your father; that must have been awful." Gooseberry nodded, then glanced at Celestia.
"Oh come on. You have to give us more than that! Must I make it a royal command?" Celestia cocked an eyebrow.
"Well — I like to eat cake too, your highness!" She shoved the rest of her tart into her mouth and made a show of slowly chewing.
Celestia's eyes narrowed.
Marigold swallowed and blushed. "I, uh, well —," she leaned forward and whispered, "If your highness must know, I'm kind of a nymphomaniac."
Celestia's eyes bulged slightly and she reddened. Gooseberry was nonplussed. "A what?"
"You see those two soldiers over there, Goosey?" Marigold whispered as she gestured. "At this moment, I want to jump up on that map table and show them what's for dinner, if you know what I mean." The maid still look puzzled. "I'm horny. Really, really horny. All the time."
"Oh." Gooseberry nodded and smiled as her confusion was dispelled. "So in other words, you're a pegasus."
"Well, yeah, but a lot more than the usual. Pegasi, unicorns, earth ponies, stallions, mares —" Marigold blinked. "Hey, after our royal interview, we could —" she paused, then glanced at Celestia slyly, "— or maybe —"
Celestia cleared the throat. "Thank you, no. You girls do what you want, but I'm old enough to be your great great great great I lost count grandmother."
"With respect, your highness, you're still smoking hot." Marigold gave her a seductive smile, slowly undid the top button of her jumpsuit, then turned to Gooseberry. "Don't you think so?"
The maid rolled her eyes. "Princess Celestia is glorious and beautiful, of course, but mares aren't my thing, sorry." The pegasus' smile fell into a disappointed moue.
Celestia pounced on the opening, her voice sounding a bit strangled. "Oh! So you have a special stallion?"
It was Gooseberry's turn to look disappointed. "l thought I did, your highness, but he prefers Thistlewhistle." Jealousy all but dripped from her voice. "She's the undercook. I guess it's true what they say; the way to a stallion's heart is through his stomach."
Marigold gave the officers at the map table another glance. "Hearts and stomachs aren't the organs I'm interested in. What do they say is the way to their—"
"I mean, she's orange! Orange? Really?" The outraged Gooseberry used her hoof to gesture at her rich purple coat and her fine white markings.
"Maybe she has a great personality?" Celestia found herself genuinely amused and relieved by the turn of the conversation.
"She's annoying, she has a shrill voice, she speaks— well, I know this sounds snobbish, your highness, and probably ridiculous coming from me, but she's common. She's not good enough for him." She looked away from the table and sniffled. "But he wants her, and not me. And that's that." She sighed. "I'm being foalish, aren't I? I'm no better than she is just because I was taught to speak properly. Deep down, I'm still a farmgirl feeding slop to the pigs."
Celestia was silent, intent on seeing this moment of introspection unfold. Gooseberry looked up, her eyes glittering with moisture. "Have you ever been in love, your highness?"
The princess shook her head. "No, I haven't. And before you ask, Marigold," she glanced over at the pegasus, "I'm not a virgin either." She turned back to Gooseberry. "I truly love all of Equestria, and it hurts me deeply when my friends pass on to the next life. That happens so often." Her voice was haunted. "Were I in love with one pony, I could be happy with him, or her I suppose, for a few decades. But what then? We could not grow old together. And what if we had foals? Would they be alicorns? If not, would I not watch them also grow old and die, as I stayed young?" She shook her head. "It would be unbearable."
She noticed that her companions both looked stricken, and smiled to lighten the mood. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to give you the impression that I am unhappy or dissatisfied with my lot. At this point of my life, I tend think of all ponies as my children. And Marigold, that's sort of why— "
"Oh." The pegasus paled. "Ick. Sorry, your highness." Gooseberry sipped her tea and nibbled at another cake, trying not to smile.
"You can make it up to me. Just give me a few minutes, both of you, to look at these letters and see if there's anything else I need to add to my little to-do list for my ministers." She unrolled her reply scroll and made a few notes with a quill, her horn glowing. "Now let's see— "
Celestia unrolled each scroll and quickly read them, sometimes making notes, sometimes just rolling them up again and placing them back on the table, and one time, taking the scroll and placing it in a desk drawer, then locking it. Then she rolled up the reply scroll, her horn glowed, and a gold seal in the shape of the sun appeared on it. "There we are, all done. Marigold, I need you to fly back to Canterlot as fast as you can, drop this with Lord Boldgaskin. Then," she scribbled another note, sealed it, and wrote on the outside, passing it to the messenger, "take this note to this address, then take the parcel they give you, and return here with it immediately. While you're out, I'll make some discreet inquiries, but I'm pretty sure Captain Stronglance, the earth pony over there, will have some time to himself in about four or five hours. He could use a little morale boost, I shouldn't doubt."
Marigold grinned. "And what about his friend, your highness? A unicorn who knows what he's doing with telekinesis..."
"Starbloom? He — his horn curls right to left. And anyway, I still need somepony here to push the tokens around the map."
"Oh well, can't have it all, your highness. I'll be back as fast as my lustful little wings can carry me." She curtsied, grinned at Stronglance who had his oblivious back to her, then left, carrying the dispatch bag and whistling the tune of a well-known dirty song about earth pony stamina.
Celestia watched her go, shaking her head. Gooseberry stood up and started to collect the dishes. "Thank you, my dear. When you've brought those down to the kitchen, would you come back? I'd like to continue our conversation. Just without the awkward sex."
The maid smiled and curtsied. "I'll be back as fast as my prudish pony legs can carry me, your highness."
Celestia chuckled as Gooseberry left, then opened the drawer and looked at the last scroll, glancing to make sure her guard captains were still busy at the map. So, a new class of ship for the Prench navy. These must cost a few bits. Very broad of beam, two decks, three masts. A frégate, they call it. She squinted at the drawing. What are those along the side? Little square windows? Maybe emplacements for mageshield runes? I'll get the symbology mages on it, but it looks like they're closer together than they would need to be for that. And what is that big box in the rear of the lower deck for?
She sighed and rolled up the scroll, placing her seal on it, then putting it back under lock and key. I need to get on with this fleet build up, I need the road to Baltimare, I need a proper shipyard, and I need to figure out what those little windows are. Prance killed her king, and they've killed hundreds of noble stallions, mares, even little fillies and colts. She shook her head silently, thinking of the toll of the guillotine.
I understood why they had their revolution. It seemed honorable at first; the Prench aristocrats exploited and abused their earth pony and pegasus peasants in ways I never would have countenanced here. Crushing taxation, corruption, arbitrary justice, absolute rule, and the brutal suppression of all dissent; a nightmare. I understand why they rose up. I even understand why they killed Louis. But whole families, whole lines wiped out? Unicorns who were reformers, artists, musicians, writers, not even landed gentry, just merchants and scholars, some of them. And it's getting even worse. The latest reports included executions of enemies of the state who were pegasi and earth ponies, as well as unicorns.
There was a knock at the door, so Celestia used her magic to open it. Gooseberry entered with a coffee tray, which she held while curtsying to Celestia, then placed it on a small table next to the map. The officers nodded their thanks as she returned to the princess.
"That was thoughtful, Gooseberry." Celestia smiled. "Now, sit back down and let's talk a bit more."
"Thank you, your highness." The maid started to sit, then stopped herself, picked up the teapot, and poured Celestia another cup. Then she glanced up, Celestia nodded, and she poured for herself. Then she sat.
"Your highness?" Celestia nodded again. Gooseberry cleared her throat. "I suppose you want to ask me about Clementine."
Celestia rocked her head back. "How — who told you that?"
"Oh, nopony your highness. It's just that you are all obviously searching for something, and that something is moving, so it's probably a pony, and the only pony I know of who I haven't seen for a few days is Clementine. I may not be able to read, but I know what a map is for."
Celestia was silent, reappraising Gooseberry. The maid continued, "Is she somepony important, your highness? Because she certainly looks like she's from a noble house, and she definitely didn't learn to read or to speak like she does below stairs. And now, here you are, speaking with one of the other maids. Your highness."
They sipped their tea in quiet for a moment, then Celestia spoke. "Some farm girl you are, using deductive reasoning to reveal state secrets."
"I'm a loyal subject, your highness. I won't tell anypony." Gooseberry's voice quavered slightly, but she didn't lose her nerve.
"Gentlecolts, I need to ask you to leave the room for a bit." The two guards officers looked at each other, then the princess, and nodded, stepping out of the room without saying a word. The door glowed behind them as Celestia sealed it.
"We'll see. This is serious. I'm going to cast a spell on you, and you won't be able to withhold the truth from me, but it requires your consent. If you refuse to consent, or I find that you have lied to me, I'll have you arrested." Celestia regarded her coolly. "Do I have your consent?"
Gooseberry nodded nervously, and Celestia's horn glowed again, and a golden nimbus surrounded Gooseberry's head. "Oh! That feels odd!"
"What is your name?"
"Gooseberry, your highness."
"Who are your parents?"
"My father was Flail Thresher and my mother is Ligonberry, your highness."
"Are you an agent of any foreign power?" Celestia gazed into Gooseberry's garnet eyes.
"No, your highness!" Gooseberry's eyes widened in alarm, and Celestia smiled.
"Right. That was the really important one. I'm glad it's out of the way. Who is your employer?"
"Lady Rubymane, your highness."
"Is she your only employer?"
"Yes, your highness."
"Do you love Equestria?"
"Yes your highness. My father fought in the war and that's how he raised me."
"Do you resent unicorns?"
"Yes, your highness." Gooseberry looked startled and put her hoof to the mouth.
Celestia laughed. "It's understandable. Do you resent Lady Rubymane?"
"No your highness. She's kind and she cares for all her tenants, when she's well."
Celestia nodded. "When she was younger, she and her husband were among the best examples of dutiful nobility in the realm. And now that she's recovering from her illness, she will be so again. Have you ever committed a crime?"
Gooseberry blushed bright red under her coat. "Yes, your highness. I stole some of Lady Rubymane's jewelry to help pay for the repairs to the farm!" Tears sprung to her eyes. "I sold two brooches she never wore to a travelling peddler for thirty bits!"
Celestia pursed her lips. "Any other crimes?"
"No, your highness. What will you do with me?" Gooseberry trembled in her chair.
"You'll have to tell Lady Rubymane what you did."
"She'll fire me. But I deserve it, don't I, your highness?"
"Given that you told me under a truth spell that your motivation was to help your family recover from a tragedy, I think she'll be understanding. Probably more hurt that you didn't just ask her directly for help, than angry over the theft." Celestia sighed. "But you're not going to be working for her. You're working for the Royal Intelligence Service from now on. The work could be dangerous, but it's important. And I'll see to it that your mother is properly taken care of."
"You want me to be a spy, your highness?" Gooseberry's jaw was hanging open.
"You're intelligent and observant, willing to take risks, not above a bit of dishonesty in a good cause, and you're a patriot. You need to be trained. You'll learn to read, you'll learn some craft, and then you'll be helping us break Prench spyrings. Sound more interesting than being a maid?" Celestia cocked her head expectantly.
"If I said no, would you send me to jail?"
"No, but I will wipe your memory of this conversation. And I won't mention the brooches, but I hope you would, someday. But I need you to take a loyalty oath under the truth spell, and it won't last much longer, so what's it going to be?"
"I'll do it, your highness." Gooseberry nodded, swallowing hard.
"Do you swear to serve Equestria loyally, to keep and protect our secrets, and to follow the orders of your superiors to the best of your ability?"
"I do." As Gooseberry spoke, the golden nimbus about her head flashed and vanished. "Wow! Er, your highness."
Celestia grinned. "Thank you for volunteering." The seal on the door split open, and the officers came back into the room. Celestia closed the door behind them. "She's been indoctrinated, gentlecolts. Say hello to Agent Gooseberry. Now, tell us what you know about Clementine."
"Yes your highness. She's a small, pretty white unicorn with a lovely gold mane and tail. She was found six years ago by the cook and until recently was the scullion. She's magically crippled, but smart, she can read, and she speaks Ponish properly, unlike the rest of the kitchen staff. She put out a fire in the kitchen, the lady took a liking to her when she met her, and she promoted her to upstairs maid. They had me train her at first, and I was a bit mean to her because I'm sort of resentful of the unicorn staff, no offense."
Captain Starbloom shrugged, and she continued. "That was about six months ago. About three months ago, Lady Rubymane experienced some trauma, and I'm pretty sure only Clementine was able to get close enough to her to take care of her. I don't know how, maybe the lady just tolerated her better than the rest of us. I haven't seen her since yesterday morning. I've always known something was up with that pony, but I couldn't put my hoof on it. It really seemed strange that only Mr. Glass paid her any mind. You'd think with her being so pretty, the other maids would either love her or hate her, especially since she was the Lady's favorite and had just come up from the kitchen. But they never seemed to even notice her."
Celestia smiled. "Those are excellent observations. What conclusions do you draw from them?"
The newly minted Agent Gooseberry shrugged. "I can't draw any conclusions, your highness. It doesn't make any sense to me. Maybe I don't have enough information or knowledge."
"Would you care to speculate?"
"It's almost like there's a weird magic spell on her."
Celestia reached out a hoof and booped Gooseberry on the nose. "Ding! You now have almost as much information as we did yesterday. Since then, your new boss, who I will introduce when he is up and around, foalnapped Clementine, stuck an anti-magic bag over her head and accidentally stripped off the spells that were on her. It turns out she's about your age, and is a very powerful spellcaster." Gooseberry's eyes widened in surprise. "So powerful that she almost killed my agent with a single bolt. He says she didn't mean to, that she was confused because of the spells that had been cast on her also affected her memory, but he appears to be hopelessly infatuated with her, so I can't trust him to be objective."
"How long has he been infatuated with her, exactly, your highness?" An expression of mild disgust creased Gooseberry's features.
"Just since the age spell was broken. Apparently they shared a very intense experience when the spells came off, and he had to kiss her to save both their lives. I'm not sure I understand all that, but he is a good pony, if a bit on the strange side." Celestia rolled her eyes. "You'll find out what I mean. I only met Clementine one time, briefly, and her appearance was masked by the glamour she was under. It didn't affect earth ponies, which is why you could see her true form. What do you think she would have looked like, all grown up?"
"I wouldn't leave her alone with Marigold Merryweather, your highness, that's for sure." Gooseberry smirked.
Celestia chuckled in response. "Objectively speaking, what sort of pony do you think Clementine is?"
"Like I said before, your highness, I was sort of mean to her when she first came upstairs, but once she had learned her duties and gotten settled into the library, I didn't see her much outside of mealtimes, and I don't think she bore a grudge. She's polite, works hard, and reads all the time, even when she's eating." Gooseberry looked down at the carpet. "I was kind of jealous about that, your highness. I wanted to ask her to teach me to read. I think she would have, but I really didn't have any time for lessons. I can't work as fast as the unicorn maids, so I have to work longer hours to keep up."
"So you think she has a kindly nature?"
"I think she did, but as you just told me, your highness, she's not the same pony she was."
"Very good. The situation is that we have an untrained, powerful unicorn mage of unknown origin loose somewhere in the realm. I suspect she's Prench, her real name is Clémence, and she's a noble refugee who was being hidden from the Directorate."
"Oh! That's what it was! Her diction was excellent, but every now and then, her pronunciation of a word was just off a bit. She's a foreigner though, so that explains it, your highness!"
Celestia nodded. "It's good to have that confirmation. I promised Lady Rubymane that I would find her and keep her safe." Celestia stood and Gooseberry stood with her. "You are not to mention any of this to anypony. If anypony asks what we were talking about, just say I told you I'm looking for an earth pony maid for the palace and you were being interviewed. That should make the unicorn maids incandescently jealous." Gooseberry grinned and nodded enthusiastically. "Go back to your regular duties. I'll summon you again this evening. We'll talk to Lady Rubymane about the brooches tomorrow."
Gooseberry's grin vanished and she nodded. "Yes, your highness. And thank you." She curtsied.
"You may be cursing me before long, but you're welcome. And thank you for loyalty. Now, shoo."
Gooseberry left the room and Celestia sat back down, opened the drawer, took out the scroll, and studied the ship sketches for a long time.
After supper, Gooseberry was summoned back to the library. Celestia presented her with a package. Within was a lovingly preserved James Colt violin, the bow strung with hairs from the master's own tail.
Four hoof fear Draw us near From the shadow we appear
Try to run So much fun You will never see the sun
Try to flee But you see You will not escape from we
Know your fright Gives us might As you scream into the night
Blood is sweet Red is meat Tender from the terror heat
Hastamodont chant
Clementine marveled as the stick rotated in her magic grasp. A faint golden glow showed in the daylight as she glanced up through the break in the forest canopy from the clearing she had happened upon. It had been two days since she had last seen a glint from pegasus armor or the flash of brightly colored wing, so she believed she might be safe traveling once more in the daylight. Since that strange dream, and the collapse of the emotional dam she had been using to hold back her grief, she began to feel once more.
The crushing sense of guilt and regret weighed upon her, and in some ways it was harder now that she allowed herself to feel again. She would find herself stopping in mid-step, breaking down, and crying after a momentary lapse of concentration allowed her to think of Giacolto. Then she would move on, knowing it would happen again, and accepting it. But when she wasn’t wallowing in misery, she allowed herself again to wonder at how much there was to learn in this world. And for her, now, it was a world of magic.
It’s like having another hoof. Just think about picking up something with magic, and it happens. She concentrated and the stick began to twirl slowly. Clementine grinned. Much more versatile than a hoof. But how strong am I? What can I lift?
A small river rock beckoned, so she allowed the stick to fall to the ground as she concentrated on it. It felt heavier to her somehow, more resistant to her thoughts, but it obeyed and rose to head height. How high can Iift it?
Her brow furrowed as she concentrated, then the stone seemed to shoot straight up into the air. Her eyes widened as it shrank into a tiny dot, then vanished. Uh oh. She felt herself lose her magic grip on the object, and started to cringe, looking up at the sky in fear. Slowly that fear gave way to curiosity as the stone failed to reappear, then she heard a whistling sound and cowered, covering her head. There was a loud crash to her left and a tree limb snapped, spraying splinters about forty yards away from her.
She stood, weak-kneed and heart pounding. In case I had forgotten, magic can be dangerous. Then she blinked as she looked over the damage; a branch at least six inches thick lay on the ground as a pine shivered and rocked back and forth above it. How high was that?
A smile curled up her mouth as she eyed a rather large boulder, one she imagined could only be carried by two strong earth pony stallions sharing the load. Her horn glowed and the stone glowed in response, but it would not budge. She could feel a strong attraction between it and the ground upon which it rested. It was too much for her.
Or is it? She thought about the space between the rock and the ground on which it lay, imagined her power in between that space, pushing down on the earth and lifting the stone upon its back. There was a groan and the stone shuddered, then rocked, and then slowly lifted out of the cavity in which it had lain for centuries, as ants, beetles, and less recognizable creatures scurried in the sudden sunlight.
She felt pressure on her skull in the area of her horn. It wasn’t exactly painful; it felt more like exertion and strain than injury. Enough for the first try, Clemmie. She visualized the stone slowly returning to its divot, and she felt relief from the pressure as it settled back into the earth.
She realized she was sweating and breathing hard after the exertion. Not just a mental exercise! Magic takes its toll on the body as well! She removed the cloak and lay upon it. Just a few minutes rest is all...
She had no recollection of dreaming this time, but she awoke to what felt like a gentle touch tickling her ear. Her eyes flew open and she saw the glade bathed in the silvery light of the waning gibbous moon. Then she felt the touch again, and sat up. Before her, sat a furry creature with a pointed pink nose, white face, beady black eyes and a long, naked tail, resembling nothing more than an oversized rat. It gestiliculated at her with stubby claws and chittered in apparent agitation.
She smiled, suddenly aware of how lonely she was and thankful for the companionship, no matter how rodential. “Well, hello! Was I sleeping upon your den? I’m sorry, let me get out of your way!”
The creature shook its head, then gestured urgently to the north. What? “You understood that?”
It nodded, then took off for the south, unmistakably gesturing for her to follow. I must be dreaming again, so what the heck? She grabbed her cloak, threw the saddlebags over her back, cinched them, then trotted behind the animal as it chittered at her.
She felt, rather than heard something behind her and looked over her shoulder. Green eyes, slitted, glowed in the darkness. Dozens, perhaps hundreds. A high pitched, guttural chanting in some bestial language fell upon her ears. It seemed to come from all around, and her she felt the cold stab of fear in her heart. Her eyes widened as a surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. I don’t want to die!
The waning moon did not aid as before, yet she realized as she swung her head back to see where she was going that she could see with much greater clarity than before. She felt the channeling of a small amount of magic from her mind, and she realized she was holding the irises of her eyes as open as they could be. She could feel what she knew from her readings on anatomy were the rods her retina growing as the cones shrank, and the blue-tinged darkness suddenly sharpened into high contrast white, black, and shades of gray. The Nightvision Spell! When did I learn this? I must be dreaming!
She looked over her shoulder once more. Pursuing her was a horde of tiny, hairy bipeds with oversized heads and broad mouths. When they opened their mouths to chant, she could see long, needle-like teeth, and they brandished small spears with tips that appeared to be of bone.
She redoubled her pace, running past the forest critter that had awoken her. Without thinking, she grabbed it with her magic and lifted it to her back, then broke into a desperate gallop up what she hoped was a deer path.
The mob following her whooped and stopped their chanting, as they too broke into a run that was surprisingly fast, given their short limbs. The forest animal grabbed her mane and held on as she dodged trees and ducked branches in her mad career. It chittered urgently and pulled at her as she charged up a rise towards what looked like a clearing. She broke out of the trees and stopped herself, gasping.
She was atop a cliff, a broad river below her, and no way down. No way up or down river. Only back into the forest. She turned and stared at the eyes that she could now see clearly. The bipeds slowed and started to stalk towards her, chanting again. She backed up to the cliff and felt dirt crumbling under her hooves. She looked to the sky for the moon; it was behind a cloud.
A small spear arced from the crowd, falling just short of her, sticking in the ground. A dozen spears followed, and three of them struck her, pinpricks in her flesh that stung and drew trickles of blood. Do you feel pain in a dream? Mindless terror filled threatening to overwhelm her as a hundred tiny arms drew back. Then she heard her own voice in her head. C’est fini, oui! Enough!
She looked down at a scene that seemed to be playing out in slow motion. The heroine and her brave opossum companion turned to face the horde of hastamodonts, the spear teeth of the forest. There was no escape, and the end was coming. What would become of them?
These are creatures of the night. The heroine creates a bright light with her horn, after dropping her own night vision spell, of course.
She found herself back in her own body, the course of her actions already underway as forest verge darkened and glowing eyes became visible once more. Then she squinted and lowered her horn, putting all of her magical power into it.
Twenty miles to the north, Private Swoopfeather was bored out of his skull, surveying the blackness below him for any glint of light that might give away the position of the fugitive they were pursuing, when dawn suddenly broke to the south. He nearly fell out of the sky in surprise, made a mental note of the location of the glare, then beat his wings towards the north and his commander.
The hastamodonts were wailing, cringing and covering their eyes, cowering back from the brilliant blaze that had erupted before them. The ground was strewn with discarded spears and fallen bipeds who could not see well enough to even flee, the utter light that flooded the landscape burning even through their closed eyelids. The opossum buried his face in her mane.
Clementine knew that her position must have been given away, but she didn’t have any subtler options. Still, her miniature tormentors appeared to be incapacitated, so she was able to put her mind to the second part of the problem; getting down the cliff to the river, then crossing it.
Well, the cat is out of the bag, so I may as well be quick about it. She lowered her horn, glowing with magical potential, and aimed it at the edge of the cliff, pointed down at roughly a thirty degree angle. She unleashed her power and struck the cliffside, blowing out dirt and rock and gouging a path into the cliff face in chunks, as her magic recharged and was discharged repeatedly. She stopped her progress occasionally to check on the little monsters, who had drawn themselves up into a miserable huddle. When she had dug a track down to the level of the river, she cleared enough headroom for herself by blasting at a more shallow angle, and finally reached down to the debris below her and lifted large stones, not as large as the one that had taxed her, but still substantial, and build a rough stair, pressing them deeply into the earth.
The opossum chittered angrily at the dazed hastamodonts, who groaned and tittered back in piping voices. It appeared that there had been a conversation going on while she was working. She turned and looked at the mass, some of whom were standing and blinking, trying to regain their vision. “Can they understand you, my little friend?”
The opossum nodded, then turned and shook a clawed fist at them.
“In that case, please tell them that if they follow me—” she paused, considering the threats she could make, thought of the pebble she hand launched, then continued “—I will throw them all the way to the moon.”
Beady, comprehending eyes stared steadily, then the opossum turned, chittered angrily once again, this time gesticulating towards the sky with his claw. The bipeds shrank back and turned, walking back into the forest, all except for one. He seemed a bit larger than the rest. He waited for the others to melt back into the verge, then took his spear in both small hands and snapped it over his knee, tossing it to the ground in front of her. Then he bowed from the waist, turned, and vanished with his fellows.
“I wonder what that was about—” she paused awkwardly. “Well, I can’t keep calling you little friend. I assume you have a name.”
The opossum nodded and chittered, “Rikikikikiki.”
“Rikiki?” The creature shrugged. That’s close enough. “Thank you, Rikiki. You saved my life. But why? How did you know I was in danger?”
Rikiki solemnly pointed to the sky. No, the moon.
“So it was not a dream. Not really. And you serve Pr— ah, Nightmare Moon?” Rikiki nodded, and her mouth went dry. “My life has gotten rather complicated recently. Well, would you like to accompany me?” He nodded.
She glanced at the woodline and saw no slitted eyes glaring at her, but who knows what dangers were behind her. And what of what lies before me? She glanced back at her small companion and smiled. “At least I won’t be alone.”
Private Swoopfeather flew as fast as he could until he almost headbutted into his section-leader, Corporal Cirrus Frost, as she burst out of a cloud in front of him. They put on the air brakes, leaning back and spreading their wings wide, and managed to avoid disaster.
“What in Tartarus was that!? Did you locate it?” Cirrus was not normally an excitable pony, but her eyes were wide with astonishment. “It must have lit up the sky clear to Canterlot!”
He did some quick math in his head. “South by south-west, about thirty miles, on the banks of the Delamare River, I think. It seemed to be coming from the forest. I figured I should come and report it before I investigated.”
She nodded. “Definitely. Did you hear anything? Like a big explosion?” She raised an eyebrow.
He shook his head. “I was pretty far away, but no, nothing except some birds who were upset about being woken up early. What should we do?”
“The captain said we were to report and observe and only interfere if it looked like the subject was in danger” She frowned for a moment. “We go together to report. If something happens to one of us on the way, the other must be able to get the information to the Princess. I have the feeling she will want to investigate this personally.”
“But what if the filly is in danger? I could go back and—”
Cirrus cut him off. “If she’s in danger from the thing that made that light, there’s nothing you or I or a whole wing of pegasi could do about it. And if she’s the thing that made the light, she’s not in danger. Got it?”
He sighed. “Yes, corporal.”
Cirrus swung back north and he followed. She smiled as she looked over her wing. “If we run into another section on the way, we can pass the information along to them, then come back and investigate, OK?”
He smiled back. “That would be great!” They put their heads down as they flew into a cloudbank.
Clementine looked down at the mighty Delamare; a quarter mile of deep, slow moving water separated her from the other side. She cast the nightvision spell and marveled as the far bank emerged into view, and beyond that, a few miles of flat grassland, until the tall pines of the Everfree rose up abruptly.
“Well, Rikiki, it looks like I won’t be able to look around for a ferry. I’m pretty sure somepony noticed my little light show.” The opossum chittered in agreement. “Being able to fly would be rather convenient right now, but I’ve never seen a unicorn fly or even heard one talking about it. But I can lift a rock that’s pretty heavy.”
She concentrated and her horn glowed golden once more. She lifted a flat rock from the shore and laid it down in front of her. “If I had time, I might be able to build a ford here, but I doubt I have time for any more engineering projects.”
Rikiki made motions with his arms and hands. “Swim? I have no idea how. I’ve never even tried.” He made a rowing motion. “And I don’t think I have time to build a boat or even a raft.” The opossum shrugged. “Yes, this is a poser, isn’t it?”
She grew quiet, frowning and looking around, then stopped frowning as she looked at the rock again. Her horn glowed and the rock rose a few inches, then she gingerly placed a hoof on it. She could feel it wobbling under her, so she tried to stabilize it by breaking her power up into four parts. I can do that? The rocking stopped as four power loci formed at the corners of the rock. Wow!
She stepped onto it and it took her weight. Ho ho! Look at me! But now what? She cast around for another stone large enough to stand on and carefully created another power locus under it. Then she pulled it to her and split the single lifting point into four while carefully maintaining the four she already had. Then she stepped. I can do this!
The second rock took her weight, shaking slightly as she transferred. Then she moved the first rock past her into position over the water. “Here we go, Rikiki!”
She stepped, and the stone supported her. Move, step, move, step, move, step, and she was twenty feet away from shore. Only about five hundred more steps to go. Concentrate, Clemmie!
Swoopfeather and Cirrus were about halfway back to the manor when they saw a flight of pegasi led by a large, white figure. “Your highness!” they both cried out.
“What happened? Was anypony hurt?” Celestia hovered in mid-air, concern written into her features as the six pegasi of the First Flight flew a mid-altitude security pattern.
Cirrus Frost bit her lip. “I decided to come find you before we investigated, ma’am. Private Swoopfeather saw the event from about twenty miles away and marked the location, but I felt we needed to travel together to ensure that information got to you.”
“Corporal Frost, right?” The non-com nodded. “A conservative call, but a good one. Blast, but I need more voces! ” She grimaced. “Alright Swoopfeather, tell me everything you saw.”
“Yes ma’am! A sudden golden light, bright as a sunrise, about an hour ago, about twenty miles dead south of designated sector seventy-three. On the banks of the near side of the Delamare, ma’am. No sound of an explosion or anything like that, but I was fairly far away.” He scratched his head with a hoof, thinking for more details. “It was steady for about a minute, then it faded, but by that time I was flying north.”
“Sergeant Frost, I’m borrowing Corporal Swoopfeather. I need you to find the Grass Tramplers and the Star Benders and mark that location on a map for them; they’re going to be on the Stablesboro Road. After you update them, come find us.”
“Yes ma’am!” She turned east and dove, picking up speed.
“Corporal Swoopfeather, lead on!”
“Yes ma’am!” He was grinning from ear to ear as he winged over and flew straight towards the spot, the moon illuminating the scene in silvery light as Celestia and her guards followed.
She was about halfway across when a salmon leapt up out of the water, landing on the stone she was about to step on, startling her. “Oh!” For a moment, she lost her focus, and the rock sank into the dark depths.
She looked down at the remaining flagstone she stood on, the cold, black water everywhere around her. “Well, this is a fine kettle of fish, isn’t it, Rikiki?” The opossum was silent, clinging to her mane and shivering. “Hey, we’ll be OK, I’ll think of something.”
She dimly spied a small tree growing out of the side of the bank. “Maybe I can pull that out of the ground and use that instead, hmm? I just need to be careful not to slide off.” Her horn glowed and the tree bent, but it stubbornly resisted being pulled, its roots running deep under the river.
“Oh come on!” She poured more magic in, but to no avail. The tree remained fixed in place. But for some reason, it seemed a little larger.
What? Oh! She pulled again and noticed that slowly but surely, her floating platform was moving closer to the shore. “See? Told you!” Rikiki chittered skeptically, but they managed to make their way to the other side with no further mishap.
Celestia and her escort spiraled down to the ground where Swoopfeather led them. She looked around at the verge of the forest and frowned, unease filling her. “We are close to Everfree here, so beware.”
“Your highness!” One of the guards came running up to her, holding a tiny spear. “Dozens of these, all over!”
“Hastamodonts! But there are no bodies? Is there any blood?”
“It’s too dark, ma’am!”
She shook her head. “I am behind my time. Give me a moment.” Celestia concentrated, and the moon set in the west as the first pink tones of dawn shone in the east. “I need this place searched thoroughly!”
The guards began to scour the scene of the battle, picking up the bone-tipped sticks. One cried out and ran to her, holding a spear out to her. The tip was red.
Celestia sighed. “So, she was attacked by those little brutes, they injured her, and she drove them back with a light spell. But where did she go?”
Two of the guards had flown up to pull security, and one of them dove down to her. “Over here, your highness!”
Celestia followed him to the cliff edge and looked down, astonished at the path that had been blasted down to the river’s edge.
“Right! Everypony get up and down the riverside; she may be in a cave or looking for a boat or something. I can’t imagine that she knows how to teleport or she wouldn’t have had to fight off the nastly little Hastamodonts.”
“MA’AM!” Celestia looked up at the freshly promoted Corporal Swoopfeather. “OVER THERE!” He waved his hoof to the south-west. She flew up and looked.
There was movement, a figure in a dark cloak, but with flashes of white showing underneath, galloping full-out across the grasslands towards the Everfree Forest.
“HOW? EVERYPONY, ACROSS NOW!” Celestia herself vanished in a flash of light, to reappear in the air a hundred yards closer to the forest. She repeated these short range teleports every second, speeding across the distance three times faster than her escorts could manage with their wings.
“NO! CLEMENTINE! DON’T!” It was useless, she was too far away, even with the Canterlot Voice. The cloaked pony vanished into the gloom of the forest.
She floated there, despairing, looking in disbelief at the spot where the filly who was like a child to her dearest friend, the mysterious Prench noblemare, the newly awakened mage of considerable puissance, had entered the deadliest place in all of Equestria. No pony who went there came out both alive and sane.
I can’t send them, and I can’t go myself. Tears filled the monarch’s eyes. What will I tell Ruby?
Her guards caught up with her. “Your highness, we can pursue!” Lieutenant Spurstorm spread his wings as he hovered.
“No! Standing Order One applies. Nopony goes into Everfree. Nopony. Am I understood?”
“Ma’am, she’s not that deep in, surely we can—”
“AM I UNDERSTOOD!?” The officer bowed his head under the assault of the Canterlot Voice. “I appreciate your valor, lieutenant, but I’m not throwing my guards’ lives away on a suicide mission.” And I can’t enter Everfree for at least another five hundred something years, or Very Bad Things will happen. She looked at the dark sentinel trees, and could feel the glares of the vengeful and jealous dryads that lived within their boles.
“May Harmony protect and watch over her.”
Clementine slowed down to a walk. There was no trotting in this overgrown, trackless wood. She resumed her night vision spell, which helped dispel the green gloom somewhat. “Are they following us?”
Rikiki chittered in the negative.
“Oh, good. Well then, here I am, I guess.” She looked about at the distorted, malformed, almost tortured looking trees. “Wow. Great plan, Clemmie. Now what?”
Rikiki jumped down from her back and scampered in front of her. He waved his arms and made a series of chirps and squeaks, then pointed south.
“Alright then.” She turned and walked in that direction as the opossum resumed his place on her back. She could feel eyes on her as she made her slow progress. This continued for several minutes, then her stomach grumbled at her.
“Do you think we could take a lunch break?”
The creature made a gurgling sound that she took as an enthusiastic affirmative, so she stopped, folded her cloak up, removed her saddlebags, and sat. A golden glow filled the gloom as she opened the bags and removed a scone and a canteen of water, first breaking a small piece of the honeyed wheat cake off for Rikiki and floating it over to him. He took it in both little paws and set about devouring it, as Clementine joined in, tearing a piece off the remainder and taking a large bite out of it. She sighed. “Nothing like a nice picnic in the Everfree Forest, is there, Rikiki?” He chittered and held out his paws for more.
She heard a rumbling and saw a shadow moving in the gloom. It was large, and quick. Something jumped out from the bushes and in the next moment there was a great beast before her, twice as tall and wide as a pony and three times as long, with a wild mane, great wings and the tail of a scorpion. Manticore!
Rikiki squeaked and jumped up into her mane as the creature roared in her face.
She didn’t even think as she shoved the remainder of scone into the open maw.
The manticore shut his mouth, blinked in astonishment, and started chewing. It only took a second to consume the sweet thing, but when he want to roar again, two more scones appeared floating before him. He backed up, licked his lips, and opened his mouth.
“I am happy to share, but you must be nice, understand?” The monster made a gesture towards his mouth with a paw as big as her head. “Very well. Now, behave.” One scone was floated between the dagger-like teeth, and then the other, and the manticore chewed, making what sounded like rather satisfied noises as he did so. He swallowed, then licked crumbs from his lips and paws. Then he yawned, and looking at Clementine, laid his head down on his paws and seemed to go immediately to sleep.
She quietly collected her belongings, slipped on the cloak, and tiptoed away to the south, Rikiki silently clinging to her mane. When she figured she was far enough away, she breathed a sigh of relief. “I can’t believe how big he was! The drawings in the book give you no idea!”
Several hours later, Celestia gently held Lady Rubymane as she rocked and cried her eyes out.
The cabin colt leaned out on the rail, his nostrils flaring as the wind freshened. Silently he turned to watch the Captain, a stout, drab earth pony with a jagged scar across his forehead, looked to the east over the same rail. He's gonna take in a reef, I bet!
The grizzled Sailing Master sidled up. "Wind's freshening, Captain. Shall we take in a reef?"
I knew it!
The Captain was silent, still looking eastward. "What do you see out there?"
"Squall line, Cap'n"
"Aye, but what else?"
The Sailing Master squinted, then raised his eyeglass, scanning the horizon. He gasped and turned to the Captain.
"A mountain of cloud to the south, just over the horizon. A big blow!"
"Aye, that it is."
"But them big blows come from the west, Captain! The wind comes up warm from the south!"
"Aye, but no ship we know of has ever been this far west before..."
from "Sea Spray and Cold Iron," by Springheart
Her Highness' Brig Aurora rolled in the gentle swell. At least a typhoon would clear up this pea soup the officer of the watch, Second Lieutenant Ambertail thought sourly as she ran her hoof across a shaggy mane stiff with salt, then jammed her bicorn hat down on her head. She blinked, trying not to yawn as she heard the bell strike six times. Another hour of this. I need some coffee!
She turned to order one of the sailors to fetch her a cup when a voice rang above the maintop. "Sail ho! On the port quarter!" Ambertail's neck whiplashed around and she ran the port rail on the a quarterdeck, the high deck at the rear of the ship, her eyes vainly trying to pierce the mist.
"What ship!?" she called out, to the pegasus flying watch above.
"Don't know m'arm!" A thick northern accent rolled down from above. "Celestia's tits! She's big!"
Coming from that quarter, she's probably Prench, out of Sainte-Marie-du-Mount. "Beat to quarters!" We're not at war, not officially, but the damned Directorate murders foals who are related to so-called enemies of the state. Better safe than sorry.
There was a roaring from belowdecks as ponies rolled out of their hammocks and galloped up the ladders to their action stations on deck. Captain Scuppernong walked up the portside quarterdeck ladder, really a stair from the main deck to the quarterdeck, to join Ambertail, peering into the murk. "What is it, Mistress Ambertail?" growled the old, grizzled unicorn, jamming his forelegs into his greatcoat, then brushing the crumbs of his breakfast from his ruffled shirt.
"Don't know, Captain, but air patrol reports a sail to our port quarter. A big bastard, probably Prench I should think." The captain nodded, then looked down to the quarterdeck where his other officers were assembling.
"Major Windshriek, I would be gratified if you could get the wing up and ascertain what we're dealing with here. And clear out some of this mist, if possible, if you would be so kind."
The roan pegasus mare bellowed, "Aye aye, Captain! Wing, aloft!" With that, she and a half dozen other scarlet-coated pegasi jumped off the deck and soared up through the open spaces between masts, sails and rigging.
"Mister Gray!" The first lieutenant appeared next to the Captain with a pop as he teleported the short distance. Show off , groused Ambertail to himself. "Be so kind as to clear for action. Second reef for the mains and topsails, keep the topgallants and royals in, please, but be ready to make full on my order."
"Aye aye, Captain!" The white stallion vanished with a flash and reappeared on the maindeck, bellowing for the sailing master and bosuns.
"Mistress Ambertail, thank you for beating to quarters, you were quite correct." The earth mare smiled slightly and nodded at the compliment. "I would appreciate it if you could have the works up portside and the archers standing by, and get the bomb crews aloft."
Ambertail snapped "Aye aye, Captain!" then galloped toward her section leaders who were standing at attention amidships. "Archers! Odd numbered sections, raise the port bulwarks! Even numbers, prepare braziers, buckets and barrels! Then ready bows and stand by! Marksponies to the crow's nest! Match ponies, get the bomb baskets aloft!"
Eighteen archers dashed to the main hold to form a line, and began passing sections of planking and dowels up, to be fitted into slots and holes behind the port railing, while another eighteen did the same with the forehold, bringing small bronze braziers, buckets with lines with which to fetch water, and barrels filled with arrows, wrapped with linen cloth, soaked in pitch. The water buckets were heaved into the sea, and drawn up to fill tubs that were built into the decking, while the braziers were filled with coals and the barrels of arrows were placed next to them, behind the growing wooden walls with ironbound holes that served as arrow loops. Six archers with longbows and quivers, the best shots from each section, climbed the foremast and mainmast towards the large iron-bound baskets at the top of the topgallant yards.
The second lieutenant frowned as she glanced down at the maindeck. One of her midshipponies, an unfortunately frog-green filly, was giving incorrect orders to her section, the third. "Mistress Lillypad, avast! The aftersidebulkwark won't lock down if you place the afterbroadbulkwark assembly in place first! Remember your drills!" Ambertail's voice held a hostile growl, though in her heart she felt for the little earth pony, who was only three months at sea and scarce more than a foal. Still, the sea ate the foalish for breakfast, and she'd not live to grow up if she was mollycoddled. "Another cock-up like that and you'll be kissing the Quartermaster's daughter!"
The threat of the ship's Master-at-Arms bending her over a barrel of hardtack and caning her, or worse, giving her the bimmy, caused the color to drain from the already humiliated filly's face, rendering her a miserable chartreuse. "Aye aye ma'am! Sorry ma'am!" she croaked, then paused to remember her bulwark evolutions, before continuing to give the correct orders needed to assemble the midship works in port configuration.
She glanced fore and aft and saw the other two works going up smoothly, pausing to check her watch. Five minutes... we'll be done in eight, perhaps nine because of Lillypad, but not bad. Not bad at all. She hid a small, satisfied smile, then cast her gaze aloft where baskets carrying small incendiary bombs were being winched to the topgallant stays. There, brave matchponies waited with burning slowmatches held in their mouths, ready to cut and light fuses and hand the bombs off to pegasi at the start of their bombing runs. With training and experience, a team could manage a bomb at 200 yards every two minutes. Assuming the fuse was cut properly. And the pegasus wasn't intercepted by a skylancer, or shot by enemy archers in a crow's nest. She shuddered, happy not to be a naval aviator, and not for the first time.
Major Windshriek, really a captain in the air service but given a courtesy promotion to major since there cannot be two captains on a ship, thumped down on the deck next to Scuppernong and saluted smartly. "Captain, she's a three master at least 20 yards longer than we are, making about eight knots southwest by south. There must be a dozen pegasi keeping the mist thick on the deck around her. All I could see were her royals, and they're the size of our topsails. I don't think we've been spotted but there's no way we'll thin that mist without risking a fight. It'll burn off in a few hours when the sun gets up."
Scuppernong sucked in air through his teeth, then took a pipe from his greatcoat and started to pack it with a certain nonchalance. "Very well. Mister Gray! Come about to southwest by south and reef out the topgallants!" Ambertail's ear twitched under her hat as it would do when she was worried; she was worried because the Captain was worried. If we were at war, running would be cowardice, but if we are not at war, a collision would be a disaster for the smaller ship, and last we heard, we were at peace.
Still, with topgallants out she'd be making better than eight knots in this light breeze, and the mist would burn off soon enough, despite the efforts of the Prench air corps, so they'd see what they needed to see while standing well off.
"Mistress Ambertail, I would be obliged if you would bank your coals and have your sections stand down, for the nonce, but keep the works up and gear on deck. And leave the marksponies aloft, poor fellows. Splatterhoof!" he cried out to his servant as the lieutenant acknowledged and started to implement her orders, "I would thank you to ready a dispatch." The small earth pony bowed his head and galloped for the Captain's cabin to gather the writing desk and a dispatch case. "Major, be good enough to pick your fastest flyer and have him or her report here smartly, then withdraw your patrol. No point in tipping our hoof." The aerialist bounded into the air and sped upward.
The Captain sighed, thinking about his orders, and the frégates he had been told were being built in Sainte-Marie-du-Mount. Observe, do not provoke, but be ready for treachery. He puffed his pipe grimly. Damn all Prench bastards! Splatterhoof arrived with the small writing desk and the Captain unlocked it and took a small book from it, to which he periodically referred as he scribbled numbers and letters onto a thick piece of paper. He folded it and handed it to his servant to seal with wax and a ribbon, then took put it into an oilskin, wrapped it again, and finally placed it into the case. He also took a few lead weights from the desk and placed them in, before closing the case with a small padlock. He gave it to the aerial rating who was standing at attention and nodded to him. "This is for the Admiralty. The mail vessel Greenway will be at station in the North Drake Channel, about 100 miles to the west. Top speed; they'll pass the message back to the Celestial Sea fleet and then the the Admiralty in Baltimare. Ask the Captain of the Greenway to be so kind as to send me two messengers, then you wait for the Admiralty's reply. It's four hours each way; you're an hour to the Greenway, so I'll expect you back in eight hours. All haste, good fellow, and be safe."
As the pegasus launched himself from the deck and vanished into the gloom in the west, Ambertail marveled at the efficiency of the messaging system. Dispatches from Baltimare to the Prench coast in four hours? It's amazing! The Greenway would provide their two standby messengers as the third went to the Celestial Sea Fleet, which would send four messengers to support two-way operations. We should be able to keep up a rate of one dispatch an hour for eight hours before these messengers are blown, then we should have fresh ones from the Admiralty.
A tense half hour passed with the officers gathered at the rail, cursing the mist and the Prench and their situation under their breath while the Captain requested that coffee and biscuit be brought up. A cry was heard and they were able to see a pegasus above them, dressed in a dark blue uniform with red facings. He or she turned and raced back to the mysterious and still misted ship to the north and a sigh was heard from the decks. "Belay that noise!" snarled Mr. Gray and the muttering subsided.
Within a few minutes, the figure returned and performed a circuit around the ship, periodically dipping the wings inboard. Requesting permission to land. So it's still peace then. Ambertail felt some of the tension leave her as Captain Scuppernong waved the Prenchie in to land on the quarterdeck. The pegasus did so, and she turned out to be a fit, attractive, long-limbed, cream-colored mare with a wavy brown mane, which went well with her revolutionary uniform.
She came to attention and bowed to the Captain. "Monsieur Le Capitiaine," she said in lightly accented Equestrian, "I am Lieutenant Crème Fraîche, of the ship of the République Le Magicienne, and I bear greetings and messages," her pronunciation with a soft g rendering it as "massages" to the private mirth of Ambertail, "from my Capitaine Henri du Gaspony." The Duke's son! Ambertail's eyebrows rose involuntarily. It looks like some members of the nobility have made their peace with the Republic! "He sends his regrette that he cannot receive you and your officers to luncheon, but his orders are to return to port upon making contact with the ship of Equestria."
"Captain Scuppernong, of Her Highness' Ship Aurora. These are my ship's officers, Lieutenant Gray and Lieutenant Ambertail, and our Wing Commander, Major Windshriek." The officers bowed in sequence and Crème Fraîche bowed in return.
"A pleasure most genuine it is, to make your acquaintances. A grand misfortune that I must return to Le Magicienne most immediate. Capitaine Scoopernoog? Pardonez my tongue, that is a 'ard one, eh?" The assembled officers chuckled goodnaturedly. "If you would be so kind, Monsieur, to read the message, I would bear your reply to mon Capitaine most rapidly."
Scuppernong nodded and broke the seal on the note, then unfolded the paper. He read through the flowery introductions, then his eyes widened and he lost some color. He cleared his throat and continued, nodding, then set his mouth in a grim line. "I take it you are not party to this missive, Lieutenant?"
"No, Monsieur Le Capitaine, I am not. I hope it is not the bad news." Her face fell and she swallowed a lump in her throat.
"Well, young lady, it is not the good news. Rest assured, I will see to it that this is delivered to those who need to know. And I thank your Captain for his kindness in sending you to us, and for his graciousness, but I cannot thank him for the contents of that message." Scuppernong frowned and looked at the his officers, his voice dropping. "Our ambassador, Lady Starglow, has been killed by a rioting mob in the streets of Mareis." There was a gasp. "As there is now no diplomatic route by which to convey this news, we must inform Her Highness immediately. Furthermore, the Assembly has voted to extend their sea control limit from three miles to twelve." More than a gasp, this brought angry mutters from the officers. "Major, I cannot wait for a messenger to return; be so kind as to take this yourself to the Celestial Fleet and give them your verbal report."
"Aye aye, Captain!" Windshriek bounded up and launched herself to the west, the mists curling in vortices behind her.
The Captain glared at Crème Fraîche, then softened a bit, seeing her pallor. "Lieutenant, you have acquitted yourself well, and nopony here finds fault with you or your captain."
"Merci, Monsieur, but the Ambassador? Quel outrage! I can only offer my condolence most sincere and most inadequate." Anger did indeed cloud her eyes.
Scuppernong exhaled slowly. "I knew Starglow. She was a fine mare. An excellent harpsichordist. Quite wonderful. I had the pleasure of dancing with her several times. Charming, intelligent. What a damned waste." He head bowed and he sniffed. "Her husband, Lord Higharbor, will be most distraught." He looked up and saw a tear glimmering in the eye of the Prench mare. "Your damned revolution keeps stacking up the bodies, doesn't it?"
She blinked, rather shocked by the open display of grief and bitterness, nothing at all like she had seen from the Equestrian gentry before. "It is a tragedy, Monsieur. But the revolution is just. Mon père was a racer for the Count of Mane. He lost a race that the Count bet ten thousand livre upon. The Count accuse him of taking the bribe. He was arrested, and they pull out all his pinfeather until he make the confession. Then they leave him in the prison to rot and starve and die." Her eyes now burned with the memory.
She looked Scuppernong in the eye. "We do not 'ave the kind and wise and mighty Princess who does not grow old; we 'ave the King and the nobles who are greedy and foolish and cruel, who grow up under the King and the nobles also greedy and foolish and cruel. They treat other ponies as the toys to play with and break and discard."
She raised her head up proudly. "I am a daughter of the Revolution, loyal and true. I know the Equestria, I know your nobles. Mon père send me to study there, and I meet some of them, and it is not the same. They look on me, they see a real pony. The Count of Mare would look on me and see only a toy pony for the bedchamber, if he notice me at all." Venom dripped from her words, then she blinked and gained control of herself.
"Lass, I'm sorry for your father, I am." Scuppernong nodded sadly.
"Thank you Monsieur, and I am the sorry very much for Lady Starglow. But think, 'oo would benefit the most from a war with you? The République? Or the Royalistes and Louis' fat cousine?"
The Captain's eyes could have been chiseled from flint. "That would be speculation, Mistress Fraîche. Now, hurry and catch your ship before she vanishes, and my compliments to Captain du Gaspony."
"Thank you Monsieur," she rose up with a flap of milky wings. "But I 'ave no fear of losing Le Magicienne." She smiled, her teeth a brilliant white. "She is quite large." She nodded to the other officers then tore off to the north in pursuit of her captain, who must have come about during the conversation and was now on a tack back to his harbor.
The officers stood in a semicircle, the captain in the middle. He turned to address Gray. "Maintain course and speed, if you please, Mister Gray. There's nothing to be gained now; the Prench will be on guard and they may be of a mind to enforce their twelve mile limit with ground-based airwings. We've been given fair warning and we'll wait for new orders." Gray nodded and muttered in the affirmative, out of sorts from the news.
He rotated to Ambertail. "Mistress Ambertail, you may stand down the works and all, and fetch the bomb baskets down, but leave the marksponies up, just in case."
"Aye aye, Captain!" She walked down the ladder and bellowed orders to her sections, as a red-coated pegasus landed next to Scuppernong.
"Captain! Sergeant Cliffdiver, reporting! I saw the Major flying away with a case and figgered you might need 'er second on deck."
"You figgered right, my good fellow. Kindly reform the wing with lances and fly a defense patrol, then report every fifteen minutes."
The sergeant stamped and saluted with a wing, "Aye aye, Captain!" then was aloft, a scarlet streak bellowing orders.
Captain Scuppernong leaned against the aft rail and looked into the mists. Speculation, indeed.
