On the Rocksby iisawChaptersShore LeavePlaying GamesA Glimmer of HopeShore LeaveChapter One Shore Leave In which it is seen that a strange place can become familiar and comforting even in the midst of a larger adventure. July 7th, 1013 Onboard the airship Nebula Stone Town, Zanzebra off the coast of Zebrica We slowly worked our way up the bay to the old mooring field east of the main docks, flying two sets of signal flags—one requesting pratique, and the other announcing that we had limited ability to maneuver. The crew of the tower we were headed for signaled back, and Fluttershy changed course, making a slight adjustment to Nebula's stuttering number three engine. I blew into the speaking tube to the mooring gear station and Applejack answered. "I'm here, Twilight. Ready to go!" "Good. Look sharp, AJ. Number three might cut out on us at any time, and if it does and we miss the first attempt, we're going to have to try again with only one engine." "If'n I don't lasso that post on the first throw, I'll buy the whole crew a round of cider... and that includes the prisoners!" I couldn't help smiling. AJ was as good as her word (of course) and we were securely moored to the tower within minutes. It wasn't much later that a little customs craft came along side and hailed us. "Ahoy, Nebula!" came a familiar voice. "Permission to come aboard?" "Zenobia, is that you?" I called out in the Zwahinny patois that was the common language of most of the trading ports of East Zebrica. "Get your beautiful striped butt over here!" The crew ran out a gang plank to the approaching balloon's basket, and Zenobia, wearing the golden collar that marked her as a senior customs officer, trotted across to Nebula's deck and gave me a warm, welcoming hug. "Captain Blackmane,[1] what in the name of the Blistering Wind have you done to your ship?" she asked as we broke off the hug and stepped back. [1] As I couldn't travel the world in a beat-up old merchant airship, fighting off pirates and "securing" dangerous magical items as Her Serene Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria without causing… trouble, I and my friends had acquired aliases and disguises under which we were fairly well-known in… certain circles. "We had a little run-in with some griffin corsairs crossing the Roan Sea," I explained, and waved a hoof at the patchwork repairs made to our envelope, hull, engines, and… well, everything, really. "She'll be as good as new after a decent refit." I couldn't help glancing back at the quarterdeck where Fluttershy was giving me a death-glare and stroking the forward rail in exactly the same way she would to comfort a sick animal in her care. I cleared my throat nervously and turned back to Zenobia. "Speaking of which, we managed to recover some cargo chests from the wreckage of the corsair ships that have the Grand Council's seal on them. Shall I have them delivered to the Guild Hall?" Zenobia had known me long enough to be unsurprised by almost anything having to do with Nebula and her crew. How a single old-style merchant ship had fought off multiple corsairs was something she pretended disinterest in. Trade goods, however, were the lifeblood of the island and taken very seriously indeed. "Ah! The Council will be pleased, I am certain," she said. "I will have wagons sent to collect the cargo; no need to trouble your crew further, I think." She turned and looked out over the larboard rail, as if in thought, then casually touched her collar of office with a forehoof. "And would there be any other cargo I should know of? Officially—" she dropped her hoof from her collar "—or otherwise?" I lit my horn and lifted off the main hatch cover and set it aside, revealing several heaps of neatly stacked sacks on the crew deck. "Officially, we're importing two tons of Anubian millet and a half ton of Tanzebrian coffee beans. Unofficially…" I then moved the deck grating that separated the crew quarters from the cargo hold propper. "There are a few passengers." Zenobia struggled heroically to retain her calm and professional demeanor. "And these—passengers. They are bound claw, paw, wing, and beak, because…?" "Turbulence," I replied. "Lotta turbulence coming in." I pointed to the mirror-flat waters of Hihwini Bay to the south. "Didn't want them to get hurt trying to move around with Nebula's deck bucking like a tse-tse bit gnu." "Ah." Zen rolled her eyes at me. "A sensible precaution. It is mere coincidence that they are all griffins, many having corsair markings on their beaks, of course." "Oh? I didn't notice that." Zenobia sighed and played along. She knew very well the arrangement I had with the Grand Council of Zanzebra, even though she couldn't fathom the mindset behind it. "Wagon rides can be rough, not so? For their safety, we should leave them securely protected until they reach their destination, yes?" "A wise precaution," I agreed, and passed over Nebula's papers. Zen stamped them and made an entry into the official log, then had me sign some of her own paperwork. All neatly done, with as close to an approximation of the truth as circumstances allowed. "Will you be in port long?" she asked after stowing away her forms in a pouch slung over one shoulder. "A week at least," I told her. "More, if we decide to do serious repairs instead of just patching her up for a run across the ocean and full refit at Canterlot." Fluttershy, who was hugging and patting the mizzenmast by then and still glaring in my direction, said, loud enough to be heard on the main deck, "Don't you worry, Nebby! I don't care what that mean old mare says. I'll take care of you!" Zenobia's mouth twitched as she tried not to laugh. "Then you must dine with me at my home! The evening after next would be convenient, perhaps?" "That would be lovely, thank you!" = = = The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as everypony worked quickly and efficiently to get our cargo unloaded. I met with a chandlery agent and arranged to get Nebula's provisions and supplies replenished, then granted shore leave to the first watch. Rainbow Dash returned in less than two hours, trying to act nonchalant while asking if I could modify her disguise spell. I didn't sigh. I didn't even ask what she'd done. There was no point, really; Rainbow's little misadventures went by like ripples on the ocean. I simply fixed her with a flat and unamused look, summoned an amulet from my cabin, and floated it over to her. "Take Halter Hitch with you and try to stay out of trouble, okay?" Even though I was obviously saddling her with an earth pony minder, Dash grinned at me. "Thanks, Twilight! You're a pal!" "I'm also the captain who is going to be too busy to bail you out until tomorrow if you get thrown into jail, unanielewa?" She snapped me a sarcastic salute and said, "Understood, Captain Ma'am!" I didn't even roll my eyes. I just waved a sloppy salute back at her and watched her trot off toward more entertaining trouble. Maybe I'm getting too used to things out here, I thought. I had grand plans for a final strike to break the pirate fleets of the Eastern Seas, but would a month or so for a visit home and full repairs for my ship interfere that much? I went back to my paperwork until the next, inevitable distraction. = = = I don't usually buy food from the hawkers that swarm airship docks, but a little balloon dinghy caught my eye, or rather my nose. One of the young zebra mares aboard was actually using a large palm frond to fan the steam from her cookpot in Nebula's direction. "Is that mchuzi wa samaki?" I asked, already beginning to salivate. "Indeed, captain," she replied, grinning. "My sister and I make the best on the island!" I knew I was lost. I called out to the crew, asking which of them wanted some food, and I ended up ferrying a long line of bowls to and from the little balloon. We all tucked into the savory coconut curry and rice with gusto. Once the impromptu meal was over, I sat down with Fluttershy and went over the necessary repairs to Nebula. Her definition of "necessary" differed significantly from my own, of course. "Repainting the envelope design after it's repanneled isn't worth the cost," I tried to explain to her. Her devastating reply was, "Sometimes it's important that a mare feels pretty, Twilight!' There have been times when Fluttershy's insistence on treating Nebula as a living, breathing creature produced unexpected and frankly uncanny results, but an insistence that she—Nebula, I mean—had some emotional investment in her looks was too much for me to swallow. At least until Rarity put her oar in. "She's right, dear," Rarity said as she came up from below with a half-dozen empty satchels floating behind her. To nopony's surprise, it seemed she was going to spend her evening's liberty shopping at the Grand Market. "Appearance is critically important, you know." "Oh come on! You don't expect me to believe that Nebula actually cares what—" Rarity arched an eyebrow at me. "What dear Nebula does or does not care about I will leave up to Fluttershy to determine," she said loftily. "But I can tell you for certain that going back on the hunt with only the mere basics taken care of will advertise to our… shall we say, competitors? Yes, it will positively shout to them and the rest of the world that we can't afford to keep up our adventures. That we are being ground down, and if they can only hold on for a little while longer, we shall be utterly exhausted and ineffectual!" "Huh. Well, I can understand that, but—" "Why, we should improve upon Nebula's colors and brightwork!" Rarity continued, caught up in her vision of aeronautical majesty. "I wouldn't be surprised if seeing us adorned with ten thousand bits worth of fabulous new artistry didn't make those ruffians immediately surrender in abject despair!" Even Fluttershy was looking dubious by then, but I understood, and moreover found myself agreeing with Rarity's basic premise. "Alright," I said, surprising them both. "Sketch out some designs for me. Start with something that would cost us two thousand and work up from there." Rarity blinked at me in shock. I waved a hoof in the direction of the city. "You can go shopping first." = = = = Author's Note Thanks to Daedalus Aegle for casting an eye over this, and particular thanks to Jordanis, who not only did a superb editing job, but gave me a wonderful place-name horse-pun... in Swahili! Playing GamesChapter Two Playing Games In which it is demonstrated that all history is not dry and dull and some treasures can be unexpected. July 8th, 1013 In The Jaws, and onboard Nebula Stone Town, Zanzebra There are always dozens of things to be done aboard even when there aren't any repairs to be made, so I didn't go ashore until the next afternoon. Khaatarrekket and I made good use of the time, making what repairs we could on our own. Despite her usual disguise being a zebra mare, Ket could quick-change into a nondescript unicorn for magical tinkering. She was definitely better at fine detail work than I was. At the end of the forenoon watch, Ket and I went ashore. She normally would have stood the afternoon watch, but I wanted her with me on my first little errand. An antiquities dealer had written me about some curious cuneighiform tablets that had come into her possession, and I wanted good, strong sunlight to examine them by. The letter had been in a strange script and a dialect of Saddle Arabian that I was unfamiliar with, but Ket knew fairly well. She was a changeling of many surprising talents. She was also a darned good fighter, and as I had acquired a reputation as both a collector of oddities and an implacable foe of the eastern pirates, a setup for an ambush was not outside the realm of possibility. The house of the antiquities dealer was in the densest part of the old city, down narrow streets barely wide enough for Ket and I to walk side by side. Most foreigners would have been accosted by every merchant and tea shop keeper along the way, but as I wore an eyepatch[1] and had two heavy shortswords strapped to my barrel, and moreover was walking with a zebra friend at my side chattering away in Zwahinny, we found our way to the house fairly quickly. [1] There was nothing wrong with my eye. There are several good uses for eyepatches that have nothing to do with injured eyes, and on that day, I'd chosen one because it matched my greatcoat and made me look "extra stylish, but of questionable morals." Yes, Rarity was involved in the decision. I gave the bell-pull mounted next to the intricately carved wooden gate a firm tug and waited, casually keeping an eye on the few creatures in the small square where the house stood. Within a minute a small hatch in the gate slid aside and a small, dark eye peered out at us. The hatch immediately closed again and we heard the clank of a heavy bolt being pulled open. The gate swung open and a rather large water buffalo motioned us inside. "Welcome, Captain Blackmane. My mistress hoped you would favor her with a visit," he said in Equuish, with a heavy Anubian accent. I didn't ask how he had recognized me; I was dressed so as to be eminently recognizable. He walked us through the tiny front garden and into the house, leading us up a few flights of stairs just barely wide enough for his shoulders. He even had to tilt his head to one side so his horns wouldn’t gouge the walls. We exited onto a rooftop terrace, which was a typical feature of local townhouses, and were seated on comfortable cushions under a silk awning. The buffalo told us that his mistress would be up very shortly, and squeezed back down the stairs. I gazed out toward the ocean in the distance, enjoying the light seabreeze after the close and stuffy warren of streets below. My greatcoat helped to hide my wings—along with a plethora of useful items—but it could be unpleasantly warm despite the cooling spells woven into the lining. "Ah! Captain Blackmane," came a pleasant voice from the stairs. "And…?" I turned to find a lavender pegasus mare, heavily adorned with Tanzebrian-style gold jewelry stepping onto the terrace. "This is Zashira, my third mate," I said, gesturing to Khaatarrekket, and using her zebra alias. "I am Trade Wind. You are welcome in my house, and it is a great pleasure to meet you both." Contrary to my expectations, she spoke perfect, unaccented Equuish. She turned to Ket and added, "Karibu nyumbani kwangu." in similarly flawless Zwahinny Zebrish. Her cutie mark was a treasure chest filled with scrolls. Interesting. Trade Wind sent for tea and refreshments, and we went through the typical exchange of compliments and polite talk that was the Zanzebrian version of a hoofbump. Nothing of importance could possibly be discussed until the current state of everypony's family, health, and business had been exchanged and commented on over tea, with appropriate good wishes for the future ladled on. As eager as I was to get a look at the tablets, I didn't feel any time pressure, and was truly interested in this unusual pony. "After your letter, you are very different from what I was expecting," I admitted to her. "Ah, yes," she said, dropping her eyes to the cup of iced mint tea she was holding between her wingtips, and blushing ever so slightly. "Forgive me for that, but there are usually only two types of creatures who are interested in ancient writings, and I wished to determine which sort you were." A year before, I would have grinned and blurted out, "Scholar or treasure-hunter?" But my voyages had given me a better understanding of the eastern culture, and she knew what she meant as well as I. I smoothed over her embarrassment by saying, "I quite enjoyed puzzling through the Arabian moon-runes, actually." "Indeed?" She cocked her head and gave me an evaluating look. "May I say without meaning any disregard that you, Captain, are not at all what I expected, either?" This time I did give her a grin. "Reputation is more important than gold on this coast." "Both of which you seem to have in great supply," she observed, Her smile had taken on a bit of an edge. Another test? I thought, and took a chance with a tangential approach to rudeness. "More than seems believable?" "Oh, I would never dream of doubting the famous captain of the Nebula!" she quickly replied. Saying, "the Nebula" had been a bit of a misstep[2], and I wasn't sure if it had been intentional or not, but I forced myself not to react or reply. Ket dispelled the slight tension by way of an eager interruption. "I confess I am excited to see the tablets you described to us, mistress Trade Wind!' "Oh, then let me fetch them for you!" Trade Wind said and leaped to her hooves. She quickly nipped down the stairs and out of sight. Evidently, though she trusted delicate cups and plates to her water buffalo assistant, ancient artifacts were a different matter. [2] Aeronauts and sailors do not refer to their craft prefixed by the definite article, any more than an average pony would ordinarily call me the Twilight. Our hostess soon returned with a large rosewood box and set it down on the low table between us. She opened the box, lifted out one of the velvet-wrapped shapes within, unwrapped the cloth from around a baked clay tablet, and set it down in front of me. I peered at the tiny triangular marks impressed in its surface and then looked up at my hostess. "This is a list of warehouse goods. Very old, yes, but hardly uncommon." Her mouth dropped open and then snapped shut. "Yes," I said, softly, "this rough and piratical-looking mare can read ancient Sumareian." "I… I must apologize! I seemed to have given you the wrong tablet! I am afraid I am only familiar with the later phonetic script just before it was supplanted by Ponycian." "An understandable mistake," I assured her as she put away the first tablet and unwrapped another. I had passed the canny mare's test, and I was liking her better by the moment. "Yes, this is the correct one," she said, turning the little clay brick over to reveal its reverse side. "You see? There is some sort of map here on the back." I studied the roughly incised lines for a few moments. Something about them was familiar. Then I turned the tablet over and began slowly working through the symbols and letters. It was in early Asshireian, which is primarily ideographic, but also uses phonetic characters. Sometimes ideographic characters are used to suggest phonemes. Yes, the written language is much like notes written in class by young ponies in a hurry to communicate. "Y R U L8? ☘♡ is going 2 t dance w/★♫! U O me ฿2." is a simple analogy. To make matters worse, because there was almost no standardization back in the ancient world, each region had its own wildly different idiosyncrasies. "The scholars I asked to look over this piece suggested that it may concern a tomb filled with traps," Trade Wind told me in an effort to be helpful. "The instructions seem to be how to correctly perform rituals to bypass the dangers." I considered that for a moment. What I had been able to read so far suggested something not quite in line with that hypothesis. I made a non-commital noise and continued decoding the text. Ket and Trade Wind left me to it, moving away from the table to the terrace railing and chatting away in Zwahinny. It was only a few more minutes before I interrupted their gossiping with a burst of uproarious laughter. Both ponies trotted over, looking at me expectantly. I set the tablet down with the diagram side upward. "I thought I recognised this!" I said, gleefully. "Trade Wind, this isn't a treasure map, it's a treasure itself! The best kind of treasure: knowledge!" Before she could ask, I told her the secret. "In the Royal Canterlot Museum there is an ancient artifact, recovered from a tomb in the ruins of the ancient Anubian city of Cur. It's an oddly shaped game board including pieces and dice. There are many others, recovered from digs all across the region; it must have been very popular. Of course nopony had any idea how it should be played… until now!" I pointed triumphantly to the little tablet. "These are… game rules?" The disappointment in her voice was quite evident. I had to look down away from her face when I nodded in order to prevent another bout of laughter that might offend her. "Well, it's a letter proposing changes in the rules... mostly to make it better for gambling as far as I can tell. But it briefly goes over the basics, and that's much more than anypony's had until now." "I… see. So, now you have the knowledge, but the tablet itself is worthwhile as a provenance, surely?" "Oh yes, I don't think that makes it much less valuable," I admitted. "But perhaps you will feel it only right to lower your price a bit if I take the other tablets along with it?" We whiled away the rest of the afternoon haggling pleasantly over more tea and delicacies. Trade Wind was shocked when I pulled a big bag of Saddle Arabian golden dinars out of my coat when we finally arrived at a mutually satisfactory price. "You carried such a sum through the Jaws?"[3] [3] In the heart of the old city is an intersection of five twisting streets that meet in a small, irregular plaza. It is decorated with several pairs of impressively-sized shark jaws hung on the surrounding buildings. To put it simply, it seems to be a concentration point for the most unsavory elements of Stone Town's population. Trade Wind's house was only a little ways north of the intersection and well within the neighborhood that had become known as the "Jaws." I smiled softly at her. "Trade Wind, may I presume to call you my friend?" She nodded, still wide-eyed. "Then, my friend, I assure you that no part of my reputation is exaggerated in the least." = = = Back aboard Nebula, I spent the early evening writing letters and making copies of the tablet's text and diagram, as well as my translation. I had Spike send a copy to the Curator of Antiquities at the Royal Canterlot Museum via Celestia, and bundled up the rest for more mundane delivery by mail packet. The tablet itself, along with the others in the rosewood box, I carefully tucked away in a secret compartment in my cabin. Pinkie Pie popped in to ask if I was dining aboard. In port, we went to Hoof, Wing, and Horn watches[4] to give the crew more time off, so at the change between the dog watches, most of the crew would be ashore, returning already fed, or preparing to spend an evening in town. Not many would be staying aboard for dinner, no matter how good the cooking was, and Pinkie was getting a headcount so we wouldn't waste supplies by making a lot more food than would be eaten. [4] The crew was not assigned watches by tribe, of course. The names just reflected the separation of the crew into three watches rather than two, and provided convenient labels for each. On some larger vessels, they are called Mizzen, Main, and Fore after the masts, or are given arbitrary colors as designators. It turned out that only Fluttershy, AJ, Pinkie, and I would be at dinner, so AJ made individual veggie pot pies while Pinkie whipped up a batch of cookies for dessert. We sat at a table on the crew deck with the main hatch cover off for ventilation. After we had eaten, we stayed at the table and chatted about this and that until Pinkie suggested playing a game of Pin the Cutlass to the Pirate. "Wait!" I said, teleporting a piece of paper and a quill from my cabin. "I have an idea for another game we could play!" Pinkie's smile froze and her brow began to wrinkle. "Is it a word game? Or something involving math? 'Cause I dunno…" "Nope!" I replied cheerfully, while sketching out an irregular grid on the paper and drawing in symbols in the appropriate squares. "It's a game that was played long ago in this part of the world." Pinkie's expression changed to something more… avaricious, but AJ was still unconvinced. "So, this here game is some sorta history thing?" "Historical yes, but it's really a simple board game," I said, and winked in a few little bits of wood from the carpenter's stores that I could use to make counters and dice. "I can explain the rules in two or three minutes, and we will be the first ponies to play it in almost two thousand years!" It only took one game to convince them. It turned out that the Royal Game of Cur [5] was not only a bit of history and an interesting window into the past. It was also a lot of fun. A beginner had enough of a chance of winning to keep them interested, but it was obvious that an advanced player, who had worked out the strategies and probabilities, would win more games in the long run. The special squares gave enough of a boost that come-from-behind wins were not uncommon. [5] That isn't the game's original name, of course. To this day, nopony knows what it was actually called. The name we know it by now was decided upon because the first board was discovered in a royal tomb in the city of Cur. It was quite late when most of us got too sleepy to play. It was very clear by then why the game had been so popular that it had been played in one form or another for almost three thousand years. Fairlead and some others of the crew had joined us, and Half Hitch was already forming plans to make up a few proper sets of the game. All in all it had been a pretty perfect day. = = = Author's Note Again, my heartfelt thanks to Jordanis for superb editing! He is amazing at de-clunkifying my more contorted prose! The Royal Game of ~~Cur~~ Ur[1] is an actual thing, as is the tablet I describe in the story: And it is a very fun game to play! You can play an online version here: https://gameofuronline.com/ [1] Also known as The Game of Twenty Squares. Through my own research, I believe that it may have been called Telannu, as the gift of an alabastar game set with pieces of gold and silver were mentioned in the Amarna letters (EA22, IV, lines 7-9) using that word, which appears nowhere else in the lexicon. As it was a gift to the Egyptian Pharoh (Circa 1300 BCE), it cannot be a Sennet or Hounds and Jackals set, as it would have been called by those names. This, of course, is not proof, but as the game was the most wide-spread and popular of the Bronze age world, I think it is very likely. I strongly disagree with the incredibly timid judgement of the editors of The Chicago Assyrian Dictionary who tentatively define the word as "stone object." Remember, when an archaeologist uses the word "object," it means, "I have no idea what this thing is, or what it was used for." A Glimmer of HopeChapter Three A Glimmer of Hope In which the philosophy of planting a dozen seeds to raise one sprout is given a piratical bent. July 9th, 1013 On the Heights and in the Night Market Stone Town, Zanzebra I found that I had somehow given in to all of Fluttershy's demands and Nebula would be getting a complete refit and glamor make-over. It was a good thing I had hefty letters of credit through the more reputable eastern banking houses, but I worried that I might have to turn to actual piracy before the year was out just to keep my ship aloft. Actual gold leaf on the big stars forward of Nebula's steering fins? How had I ever agreed to that? Yet there was my signature on the work order. I was fairly sure it wasn't a forgery. "Pardon me, darling," came Rarity's voice from behind me as I stood on the mooring tower gantry, staring up at my glittering ship in disbelief. I didn't even turn around. "No, I am not ordering a case of artisanal brass polish!" There was a pause, and then Rarity positively cooed at me. "Is there such a product? Ooh, Twilight, darling! You must—" "No, no!" I insisted, turning to face her. "There is no such thing! I was being sarcastic, and we couldn't afford it even if it was real! We will barely be able to pay our port fees by the time we're finished here!" "Well, if you'd let us keep just a teensy bit of the treasure we recover from those horrid pirates, we could easily—" I just glared at her. "Oh, well, I can see you're in a mood, and I won't bother you any further! But we simply must talk about a few absolutely necessary accoutrements as soon as you feel calmer!" She swept past me and trotted down the stairs to the base of the tower. I went into my cabin and fumed. A bit; I had to admit that Nebula looked glorious. After lunch, Rarity came back aboard and Mr. Fairlead informed her that I wanted to see her in my cabin. She came in with a cautious expression on her face. "Twilight, dear, I hope you aren't—" "Which one?" I interrupted her. "Pardon?" Which outfit?" I clarified pointing to my bunk where I had laid out my best sets of clothing. "I'm having dinner with Zenobia and her family tonight. I got a note saying some of the Councillors and other important ponies will be there as well, and I want to make a good impression." "Oh!" Rarity's expression brightened considerably, and she stepped over to the bed, her horn shimmering to life. "Not this tacky old thing, that's for certain!" she said, floating my indigo and platinum evening coat and accessories back into the wardrobe. I had bought the outfit only a few months ago on her advice. The lace alone had cost me over 300 silver riyals. I bit my tongue and waited patiently. "Not the gardecorps… too fussy," she muttered to herself. "Red and gold, I think. To match Nebula's new stars." "My ship won't be going along," I pointed out. "No," Rarity agreed, holding up my oxblood greatcoat and turning it around to examine it more closely. "But everyone knows about the new gold stars. They're the talk of the town, and ponies will have them in mind when you meet them." It made a kind of sense. "But isn't that coat a bit rough for a fancy dinner?" I asked. "That's the point, darling!" Rarity couldn't quite keep a note of exasperation out of her voice. "It is rough and practical, but also beautiful. Just the thing for a pirate in polite company!" "Privateer," I corrected her. I had the Letters of Marque from three different Zebrican nations to prove it. She went on without acknowledging the facts of the matter. "If you try to dress-up, as they say, you will only look like you're trying to climb above your station. If you dress appropriately, but richly, the nobles will see you as a mare who has become an utter success in her field!" She paused and looked over at me. "You do have a large gold hoop earring, don't you?" "Arrr," I replied. Rarity sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'll switch out these brass buttons for gold, and add that gold collar I picked up in Marelawi. That and a ruby pendant and a dozen or so golden hoofrings should do it. My ensemble will be much less flashy, but still stunning, I assure you." "Huh?" I blinked. "You're coming along?" "Of course, darling! This—" She waved a hoof at my floating jewelry. "—will be impressive, but I will be your most impressive accessory!" She thought for a minute and then added, "And I should have a word with dear Khaatarrekket. She should be suitably attired as well." Once again, things were out of my hooves, but I found that I didn't mind all that much. When we were bathed, made-up, dressed, and accessorized half to death, we made quite a sight, I had to admit. Ket was a bit of a surprise, though. "Bodyguard," Rarity explained to me. "Okay," I admitted, waving a hoof at Ket's new huge male body. "She's.... uh… he's very impressive, but… you and me, Rarity? The last thing we two need is a bodyguard! Aside from magic, I'm wearing my shortswords for Celestia's sake, and if you don't have a half-dozen blades hidden under that dress, I'll eat my eyepatch! The last time some nit-wits tried to rob us—" "Yes, yes, but it's all about image, Twilight!" she said. "Necessary or not, to be without a fearsome-looking attendant in the evening is tres déclassé!" Trust Rarity to know the finer points of upper-class etiquette on Zanzebra. Zenobia lived in a nice little compound about halfway up the old basalt mountain that rises behind the city. We took a carriage up from Gold Market street because Rarity nearly fainted when I suggested we walk. I suppose she was right, because it seemed like half the upper city was arriving in front of the house, and they had brought so many servants with them that the poor ponies had to stand outside the wall in the street. A young zebra standing at the gate spotted us and rushed out to escort us (minus Ket, who went to join the crowd of professional bruisers) into the house. Zenobia and her mother greeted us warmly, but as Zen hugged me she whispered quickly into my ear, "I'm sorry about this! I will make it up to you!" Evidently things had gotten out of hoof on her end as well. I already knew a couple of the Counselors, and they made much of the acquaintance, introducing me to the rest as if they were my closest friends. I was initially miffed that everypony seemed to be ignoring Rarity, but then I realized that nopony was introducing their companions. Rarity hadn't been joking about being an accessory. I bore it stoically; the Canterlot nobility weren't much better. But I was disappointed. I had expected a cozy family get-together, not a full-blown soirée! But I was on full display and I made the best of it. I don't know if I have much natural talent as a storyteller, but all I had to do was channel my inner Rainbow Dash, and recount some of the exaggerated tales I'd heard her spin on Nebula's deck. It seemed to satisfy almost everypony. There wasn't enough space for all the guests in the dining room, so tables were set up in the garden under silk canopies and surrounded by colored lanterns. I'm fairly sure Zenobia had to borrow cushions and other furniture from her neighbors. Dinner was… well, I'm not sure exactly what it was. Excellent, of course, but I was so engrossed in conversation I can't exactly remember the dishes I ate. There was music, too. Lovely, exotic melodies that were almost completely drowned out by the chatter. After dinner, I got a very nice surprise indeed. The chief Councilor and the president of the Merchant's Guild announced that the Guild treasury was going to cover half of Nebula's refit costs, now and at any time we put into Stone Town thereafter. I was stunned at this sudden, incredible generosity, but as Zenobia explained to me afterwards, it was mostly canny self-interest on the Guild's part. The eastern pirates had learned to be terrified of Nebula and her crew.[1] News that we were anywhere near Zanzebra would guarantee that the trade routes to and from the city would remain untouched by all but the most clueless or desperate. Our presence saved the great merchant houses of the island millions in lost ships and cargo. They could well afford to coat Nebula's entire envelope with gold leaf. It was no wonder I was suddenly so popular. [1] Lately, we had had to resort to disguising the ship and planting false rumors of our planned course in order to catch any of them. The party began to break up around midnight. I promised Zenobia that we would sneak a quiet, cozy meal together on the down-low, later in the week. I made an attempt to apologize to Ket and Rarity for having left them out of the activity while we waited for our carriage, but Rarity would have none of it. "Oh, pish-posh darling! While you and all the sharp stripes were hob-nobbing at the high table, I was awash in a positively delicious whirlpool of gossip! I have the dirt on every high family on the island now!" She did a gleeful little dance on her hoof tips and squealed in delight. Well, we all have our hobbies, I suppose. Ket was likewise unperturbed, but for slightly different reasons. "Being upstanding citizens, you lot couldn't drink or gamble. I won a few hundred shillings at dice, and am pleasantly tipsy." I chuckled. "It seems like a successful evening all around then." It was true. Everything had gone very well, but I felt… restless for some reason. I thought about it as the carriage worked its way down the switchbacks of the highland road. We had been successful beyond my wildest hopes, but Rawboned Mari was still out there somewhere. She was the worst of the eastern pirates, brutal, merciless, and worst of all, smart. In the last few months, I'd done my best to hunt her down, trap her, or trick her into revealing herself, all to no avail. I'd ruined the plans of her minions time and again, and nibbled at the edges of her fleet, but had never come close to the mare herself. Was I afraid that my success so far would hamper me in the future? Would capturing the Pirate Queen be the final victory I hoped for… even assuming I could pull it off? Or would dozens of replacements spring up in her wake? I suddenly realized that I was ruining a wonderful night by worrying about future events not yet determined, and I snorted in disgust at myself. I looked around and realized that we were only a few blocks from Mareajani Street. I tapped on the forward rail and called out, "Acha hapa!" Rarity and Ket gave me puzzled looks as the carriage slowed to a stop. "I'll see you back aboard," I told them, and hopped out onto the street. They had questions. Of course they did. But I trotted off into the night before Rarity could get beyond sputtering in surprise. I ducked into a narrow little alleyway and worked my way toward the Night Market. I caught the smells first. It was after midnight, but most ponies in the region ate very late; cafes and restaurants were open to nearly dawn. Scents of coffee, spices, hot oil, and even frying meat teased my nose. Then I heard the soft murmur of conversations in dozens of languages, echoing from the mudbrick walls like the sound of a distant sea. Finally the lane opened up and rich panoply of the market lay before me. During the day, the Mareajani Bazaar was a giant spice market. I had bought many hundredweights of cloves, nutmeg, anise, cinnamon, and suchlike there for trade cargos, and knew the place very well… at least in the daytime. After the sun was well down, and the spices were locked away in warehouses, the space became the Night Market. Little stalls and ad hoc cafes spilled out from under the big, open-sided building that was the official marketplace and covered most of the pavement of the surrounding streets. Twinkling lights of all kinds hung from the canopies, awnings, and even the trees lining the street. A good deal of what was sold from the little stalls were trinkets; little luxuries that couples out for a meal or a stroll might buy each other by impulse. Jugglers, fire-eaters, and musicians wandered through the crowd, performing for tossed coins. Despite the late hour, toys for small foals were not an uncommon item. Clothing and jewelry, fine dishes and silverware, all were to be had at the Night Market. On a previous visit, Rarity had discovered a stall that sold curious woodcarvings imported from the interior of Zebrica. Nebula's crew had nearly bought out the whole stock and many homes in Ponyville now contained interesting bits of inexplicable art, gifted to the families by one of their more unusual friends.[2] I kept an eye out for the stall while I wandered… out of nostalgia, I suppose, but they almost all changed locations each night, and I had other places to be. [2] There was a very blatant fertility symbol proudly displayed on the wall of Mrs. Cake's parlor. Fortunately, nopony ever realized what it represented because it was strongly stylized and Pinkie Pie had hung it upside down. And now that I come to comment on it, I'm not sure if that was an accident or not. One of the stalls that didn't move every night was a little place tucked between two irregular buildings across the street from the main market hall. It was a space that had been created by roofing over an alley and building a wall at either end. If it wasn't the most narrow restaurant in the world, I would be very surprised. During the day it only sold snacks to go, passing them out over the bottom half of the double doorway that occupied most of the front wall, but at night it spewed forth an amazing amount of low tables and cushions, as well as canopies, pole lanterns, and even a few potted palms. The space in front of the tiny restaurant was transformed into a charming sidewalk (and roadway) cafe. Even better, the proprietors were giraffes from Tanzebria, and utterly unencumbered by any devout attitudes towards alcohol. They sold the best palm wine in the city. I was pleased that they recognized me and I spent a few minutes chatting with them before ordering and selecting a table. A young zebra couple were seated at the one I wanted, but a hoofful of gold and a chance to brag that they'd had a quick drink with the Captain Blackmane convinced them to let me have it. I sat down with my back to the brown and white bricks of the wall next to a conveniently placed potted palm. The plant screened me from most of the market, while allowing me to see fairly well out through its fronds. I settled in, uncorked my jug of wine, and began the attempt to derail my inexplicable melancholy.[3] [3] I want to state for the record that I am not much of a drinker, and do not enjoy being drunk at all. That night's adventure was purely because I know from hard-won experience that there are only a few things that can kick me hard enough in the brain to get it out of a senseless rut. Since an ancient artifact oozing with dark magic wasn't readily available, cheap alcohol had to suffice. It was the change in the sound of the crowd that alerted me. The smooth rumble stuttered and quieted ever so slightly, but it was enough to make my ears prick up, even after working my way through half of the jug. I pulled down on one of the palm's fronds and peered out at the street. There was a disheveled griffin walking along the ragged edge of the market stalls with a nearly empty burlap sack slung across her back. Her expression was neutral and nonthreatening, but the way she carried herself and the jagged carving on her beak advertised her as an "ugly customer." Everycreature got out of her way as soon as they spotted her. "You look like you need a drink," some idiot called out to her. She wasn't certain who had spoken at first, and as I was half hidden behind the palm, I had to lean out and wave to show her it had been me. She froze when she recognized me. The last time she had seen me, I was lifting her trussed-up carcass out of Nebula's hold and tossing it into a cargo wagon. "C'mon!" I encouraged her, waving the jug. "Grab another mug at the door over there! Tartarus, grab another jug! This one's half empty." It took her several long moments to get moving, but then she strode over to the cafe's doorway. I floated over enough coins to pay for another jug of wine and set them down on the little shelf built onto the top of the bottom half of the door. The griffin brought over the jug and another mug and put them down on the table, but she didn't sit down immediately. "What are you doing?" she asked. It was a fair question. It was a good question. Since I didn’t have an answer, I chose to ignore it, and I waved a hoof to vaguely encompass both her and the cushion across from me. "Sit down, tall-stuff. You need an excuse to drink?" She shrugged and sat down. I poured. We drank. "Flaming flight feathers!" the griffin cursed. "This stuff tastes like weasel snot!" "Yup," I agreed. "And it's the expensive stuff!" I refilled our mugs. "But it'll do the job." The griffin looked around again, no doubt trying to spot any of my shipmates. "What are you doing?" she asked again. "I'm drinking with an ex-pirate," I explained patiently. "I could kill you," she said. This griffin was a straight-forward sort of gal. I liked her. "Yeah... no," I said, smiling. "And even if you somehow managed it… what then?" She glared at me. I noticed that the lower edge of her upper beak had been filed into a series of points so that it sort of looked like fangs. Kind of cool, actually. "I should be dead already," she grumbled, taking another swig of the palm wine. I nodded. "Yeah, most places execute pirates as soon as they catch them. Did you know that in Equestria they turn them into stone? I dunno if that's worse, but it's reversible… mostly. Sometimes, relatives that want revenge will sneak out behind the hedge maze at night with sledgehammers and… oh sorry. Touchy subject?" The griffin buried her beak in her mug and then held it out for a refill. "Why aren't I dead?" "Didn't they explain that to you when they let you go?" "They told me the rules, but that ain't the reason." Smart bird. I waved my mug in the general direction of the Heights. "The rules are theirs, the reason is mine." I likewise indicated myself with a gesture, slopping a little bit of wine on my greatcoat. "I believe that everycreature deserves a second chance, and I made an agreement with the Council: I turn over the pirates I catch and they give them that chance." "You can't be that stupid," she said flatly. "Right again," I agreed. She squinted at me and then took another drink. "No, I mean… a second chance? Sure, anybird would take an easy out from getting chopped, but what then?" "Well… there are a lot of jobs on this island. Plenty of lugging boxes around at the ports and warehouses. You can fly, so you could spot for the fishing fleet, or you could ship out again." "Yeah, right!" She looked like she wanted to spit, but I supposed that's hard to do for a beaked person. I shrugged. "Better than getting your gizzard exteriorized." She swallowed and she hadn't even taken a pull from her mug. "And how many pirates make use of that second chance?" "Maybe one in a hundred," I admitted. "Most go back to robbing or stealing, and as soon as they do… thwickt! No third chances." She stared at me wide-eyed and I realized I had drawn one of my short blades and thunked its edge into the table by way of demonstration. "Oops. Sorry about that," I said, attempting a sheepish smile that may have come across a lot more sharkish than I intended, judging by the way her pupils suddenly shrank. I levered the blade out of the wood and slid it back into its sheath. She held her mug in both claws and lowered her head, staring into the thick liquid. "So why do it? Pirates are pirates. We go back to the old ways eventually, so why bother dancing around it?" I filled my mug again and held out the jug. The griffin shook her head. "Because that one in a hundred is worth the effort expended on all the rest. Pirates aren't all the same and this is the only easy way I've found to find the gems hidden in the manticore dung." She finally drank. "You think I'll make it? Maybe ship out with some nice fat merchant captain who could stomach a face like this?" She savagely jabbed a primary feather at her scarred beak. "I have no idea," I admitted. "But the point is, you could. And it's up to you." I thought for a moment. "You want a job? It'd be rougher than loafing around on some merchant vessel." "I ain't afraid of rough." I nodded. "Bodyguard work," I told her. "It's mostly intimidation, but you never know when things will go south. Your looks would be an asset in that profession. The 'quality' hereabouts are big on being seen with flashy muscle." "Huh. I might not mind that." "Alright, then." I floated twenty or thirty coins out of my coat and set them down in front of her. "There's a guesthouse around the corner, half a block down on the left. It's nothing fancy, but it's clean. This should cover a week or so. I'll put the word out and I should have something for you in a couple of days." She stared at the coins like they were red hot. "You're kidding." "I'm drunk. Take advantage of me." She shrugged, swung the sack off her back, and scooped the coins into it. "You're really going to let me flit off with your money? What if I just disappear?" It was my turn to shrug. "I don't really care. I only care if you betray my trust by hurting some innocent." "And if I do?" I drained my mug, set it down on the table in front of her, and lit my horn. "You'll never make it to the execution block." The glass suddenly glowed brightly and slumped down into a puddle on the table. The heat of it blackened the wood and made little flames shoot out from underneath. Neither of us bothered to fan the smoke out of the way. Her gaze lifted from the molten glass to my eyes, and she seemed to be searching my face for a very long moment while her tongue worried at one of the carved false-fangs on her beak. Finally, she looked down at the table again as she stood with what I imagined was all the delicacy she possessed. She hesitated and then held out her right claw curled into a fist. "Name's Grish." I gave her a hoofbump and she turned and vanished into the night. I shook both bottles; they were empty. Time to get back to my ship. I turned and patted the ceramic pot that held the little palm tree beside me. "Thanks for the backup, Ket!" There was a flash of magical green fire and my third mate stood next to me. "How in Tartarus did you know it was me?" she demanded. "The little gaps along the edge of the fronds? On these palms, they're rounded; yours were pointed. Plus, you still kinda smell of that gongo you were drinking outside of Zenobia's place. Y'know you shouldn't drink so much on shore leave right?" "With all due respect, Captain…" she trailed off and stared over my shoulder. I turned to see that we were the focus of quite a large audience. I did a rough estimate and determined that the crowd was composed of approximately 63% eyeballs. "Time to go?" I whispered out of the side of my mouth to Ket. "Oh yeah," she replied. I wasn't sufficiently unwise to attempt teleportation in my condition so we galloped for the nearest alleyway where I could shuck my coat off my wings, and then we flew back to Nebula. Didn't hit a single mooring tower on the way. Rarity was waiting for us when we landed. I ignored her stink-eye and held out my coat. "You can get palm wine stains out, right?" She took the coat from me without a word and went below. That night, I slept like a pegasus foal wrapped in summer clouds. = = = Author's Note I'd almost forgotten how much fun it is to write Pirate Twilight making friends through the implication of horrific violence! Nebula, moored above Stone Town: Once again, I need to thank Jordanis for the heroic job he did of editing, and by "editing" I mean not only the technical stuff, but also suggesting phrases and sometimes whole passages that replaced my plodding prose with near-poetry!
Shore LeaveChapter One Shore Leave In which it is seen that a strange place can become familiar and comforting even in the midst of a larger adventure. July 7th, 1013 Onboard the airship Nebula Stone Town, Zanzebra off the coast of Zebrica We slowly worked our way up the bay to the old mooring field east of the main docks, flying two sets of signal flags—one requesting pratique, and the other announcing that we had limited ability to maneuver. The crew of the tower we were headed for signaled back, and Fluttershy changed course, making a slight adjustment to Nebula's stuttering number three engine. I blew into the speaking tube to the mooring gear station and Applejack answered. "I'm here, Twilight. Ready to go!" "Good. Look sharp, AJ. Number three might cut out on us at any time, and if it does and we miss the first attempt, we're going to have to try again with only one engine." "If'n I don't lasso that post on the first throw, I'll buy the whole crew a round of cider... and that includes the prisoners!" I couldn't help smiling. AJ was as good as her word (of course) and we were securely moored to the tower within minutes. It wasn't much later that a little customs craft came along side and hailed us. "Ahoy, Nebula!" came a familiar voice. "Permission to come aboard?" "Zenobia, is that you?" I called out in the Zwahinny patois that was the common language of most of the trading ports of East Zebrica. "Get your beautiful striped butt over here!" The crew ran out a gang plank to the approaching balloon's basket, and Zenobia, wearing the golden collar that marked her as a senior customs officer, trotted across to Nebula's deck and gave me a warm, welcoming hug. "Captain Blackmane,[1] what in the name of the Blistering Wind have you done to your ship?" she asked as we broke off the hug and stepped back. [1] As I couldn't travel the world in a beat-up old merchant airship, fighting off pirates and "securing" dangerous magical items as Her Serene Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria without causing… trouble, I and my friends had acquired aliases and disguises under which we were fairly well-known in… certain circles. "We had a little run-in with some griffin corsairs crossing the Roan Sea," I explained, and waved a hoof at the patchwork repairs made to our envelope, hull, engines, and… well, everything, really. "She'll be as good as new after a decent refit." I couldn't help glancing back at the quarterdeck where Fluttershy was giving me a death-glare and stroking the forward rail in exactly the same way she would to comfort a sick animal in her care. I cleared my throat nervously and turned back to Zenobia. "Speaking of which, we managed to recover some cargo chests from the wreckage of the corsair ships that have the Grand Council's seal on them. Shall I have them delivered to the Guild Hall?" Zenobia had known me long enough to be unsurprised by almost anything having to do with Nebula and her crew. How a single old-style merchant ship had fought off multiple corsairs was something she pretended disinterest in. Trade goods, however, were the lifeblood of the island and taken very seriously indeed. "Ah! The Council will be pleased, I am certain," she said. "I will have wagons sent to collect the cargo; no need to trouble your crew further, I think." She turned and looked out over the larboard rail, as if in thought, then casually touched her collar of office with a forehoof. "And would there be any other cargo I should know of? Officially—" she dropped her hoof from her collar "—or otherwise?" I lit my horn and lifted off the main hatch cover and set it aside, revealing several heaps of neatly stacked sacks on the crew deck. "Officially, we're importing two tons of Anubian millet and a half ton of Tanzebrian coffee beans. Unofficially…" I then moved the deck grating that separated the crew quarters from the cargo hold propper. "There are a few passengers." Zenobia struggled heroically to retain her calm and professional demeanor. "And these—passengers. They are bound claw, paw, wing, and beak, because…?" "Turbulence," I replied. "Lotta turbulence coming in." I pointed to the mirror-flat waters of Hihwini Bay to the south. "Didn't want them to get hurt trying to move around with Nebula's deck bucking like a tse-tse bit gnu." "Ah." Zen rolled her eyes at me. "A sensible precaution. It is mere coincidence that they are all griffins, many having corsair markings on their beaks, of course." "Oh? I didn't notice that." Zenobia sighed and played along. She knew very well the arrangement I had with the Grand Council of Zanzebra, even though she couldn't fathom the mindset behind it. "Wagon rides can be rough, not so? For their safety, we should leave them securely protected until they reach their destination, yes?" "A wise precaution," I agreed, and passed over Nebula's papers. Zen stamped them and made an entry into the official log, then had me sign some of her own paperwork. All neatly done, with as close to an approximation of the truth as circumstances allowed. "Will you be in port long?" she asked after stowing away her forms in a pouch slung over one shoulder. "A week at least," I told her. "More, if we decide to do serious repairs instead of just patching her up for a run across the ocean and full refit at Canterlot." Fluttershy, who was hugging and patting the mizzenmast by then and still glaring in my direction, said, loud enough to be heard on the main deck, "Don't you worry, Nebby! I don't care what that mean old mare says. I'll take care of you!" Zenobia's mouth twitched as she tried not to laugh. "Then you must dine with me at my home! The evening after next would be convenient, perhaps?" "That would be lovely, thank you!" = = = The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as everypony worked quickly and efficiently to get our cargo unloaded. I met with a chandlery agent and arranged to get Nebula's provisions and supplies replenished, then granted shore leave to the first watch. Rainbow Dash returned in less than two hours, trying to act nonchalant while asking if I could modify her disguise spell. I didn't sigh. I didn't even ask what she'd done. There was no point, really; Rainbow's little misadventures went by like ripples on the ocean. I simply fixed her with a flat and unamused look, summoned an amulet from my cabin, and floated it over to her. "Take Halter Hitch with you and try to stay out of trouble, okay?" Even though I was obviously saddling her with an earth pony minder, Dash grinned at me. "Thanks, Twilight! You're a pal!" "I'm also the captain who is going to be too busy to bail you out until tomorrow if you get thrown into jail, unanielewa?" She snapped me a sarcastic salute and said, "Understood, Captain Ma'am!" I didn't even roll my eyes. I just waved a sloppy salute back at her and watched her trot off toward more entertaining trouble. Maybe I'm getting too used to things out here, I thought. I had grand plans for a final strike to break the pirate fleets of the Eastern Seas, but would a month or so for a visit home and full repairs for my ship interfere that much? I went back to my paperwork until the next, inevitable distraction. = = = I don't usually buy food from the hawkers that swarm airship docks, but a little balloon dinghy caught my eye, or rather my nose. One of the young zebra mares aboard was actually using a large palm frond to fan the steam from her cookpot in Nebula's direction. "Is that mchuzi wa samaki?" I asked, already beginning to salivate. "Indeed, captain," she replied, grinning. "My sister and I make the best on the island!" I knew I was lost. I called out to the crew, asking which of them wanted some food, and I ended up ferrying a long line of bowls to and from the little balloon. We all tucked into the savory coconut curry and rice with gusto. Once the impromptu meal was over, I sat down with Fluttershy and went over the necessary repairs to Nebula. Her definition of "necessary" differed significantly from my own, of course. "Repainting the envelope design after it's repanneled isn't worth the cost," I tried to explain to her. Her devastating reply was, "Sometimes it's important that a mare feels pretty, Twilight!' There have been times when Fluttershy's insistence on treating Nebula as a living, breathing creature produced unexpected and frankly uncanny results, but an insistence that she—Nebula, I mean—had some emotional investment in her looks was too much for me to swallow. At least until Rarity put her oar in. "She's right, dear," Rarity said as she came up from below with a half-dozen empty satchels floating behind her. To nopony's surprise, it seemed she was going to spend her evening's liberty shopping at the Grand Market. "Appearance is critically important, you know." "Oh come on! You don't expect me to believe that Nebula actually cares what—" Rarity arched an eyebrow at me. "What dear Nebula does or does not care about I will leave up to Fluttershy to determine," she said loftily. "But I can tell you for certain that going back on the hunt with only the mere basics taken care of will advertise to our… shall we say, competitors? Yes, it will positively shout to them and the rest of the world that we can't afford to keep up our adventures. That we are being ground down, and if they can only hold on for a little while longer, we shall be utterly exhausted and ineffectual!" "Huh. Well, I can understand that, but—" "Why, we should improve upon Nebula's colors and brightwork!" Rarity continued, caught up in her vision of aeronautical majesty. "I wouldn't be surprised if seeing us adorned with ten thousand bits worth of fabulous new artistry didn't make those ruffians immediately surrender in abject despair!" Even Fluttershy was looking dubious by then, but I understood, and moreover found myself agreeing with Rarity's basic premise. "Alright," I said, surprising them both. "Sketch out some designs for me. Start with something that would cost us two thousand and work up from there." Rarity blinked at me in shock. I waved a hoof in the direction of the city. "You can go shopping first." = = = = Author's Note Thanks to Daedalus Aegle for casting an eye over this, and particular thanks to Jordanis, who not only did a superb editing job, but gave me a wonderful place-name horse-pun... in Swahili!
Playing GamesChapter Two Playing Games In which it is demonstrated that all history is not dry and dull and some treasures can be unexpected. July 8th, 1013 In The Jaws, and onboard Nebula Stone Town, Zanzebra There are always dozens of things to be done aboard even when there aren't any repairs to be made, so I didn't go ashore until the next afternoon. Khaatarrekket and I made good use of the time, making what repairs we could on our own. Despite her usual disguise being a zebra mare, Ket could quick-change into a nondescript unicorn for magical tinkering. She was definitely better at fine detail work than I was. At the end of the forenoon watch, Ket and I went ashore. She normally would have stood the afternoon watch, but I wanted her with me on my first little errand. An antiquities dealer had written me about some curious cuneighiform tablets that had come into her possession, and I wanted good, strong sunlight to examine them by. The letter had been in a strange script and a dialect of Saddle Arabian that I was unfamiliar with, but Ket knew fairly well. She was a changeling of many surprising talents. She was also a darned good fighter, and as I had acquired a reputation as both a collector of oddities and an implacable foe of the eastern pirates, a setup for an ambush was not outside the realm of possibility. The house of the antiquities dealer was in the densest part of the old city, down narrow streets barely wide enough for Ket and I to walk side by side. Most foreigners would have been accosted by every merchant and tea shop keeper along the way, but as I wore an eyepatch[1] and had two heavy shortswords strapped to my barrel, and moreover was walking with a zebra friend at my side chattering away in Zwahinny, we found our way to the house fairly quickly. [1] There was nothing wrong with my eye. There are several good uses for eyepatches that have nothing to do with injured eyes, and on that day, I'd chosen one because it matched my greatcoat and made me look "extra stylish, but of questionable morals." Yes, Rarity was involved in the decision. I gave the bell-pull mounted next to the intricately carved wooden gate a firm tug and waited, casually keeping an eye on the few creatures in the small square where the house stood. Within a minute a small hatch in the gate slid aside and a small, dark eye peered out at us. The hatch immediately closed again and we heard the clank of a heavy bolt being pulled open. The gate swung open and a rather large water buffalo motioned us inside. "Welcome, Captain Blackmane. My mistress hoped you would favor her with a visit," he said in Equuish, with a heavy Anubian accent. I didn't ask how he had recognized me; I was dressed so as to be eminently recognizable. He walked us through the tiny front garden and into the house, leading us up a few flights of stairs just barely wide enough for his shoulders. He even had to tilt his head to one side so his horns wouldn’t gouge the walls. We exited onto a rooftop terrace, which was a typical feature of local townhouses, and were seated on comfortable cushions under a silk awning. The buffalo told us that his mistress would be up very shortly, and squeezed back down the stairs. I gazed out toward the ocean in the distance, enjoying the light seabreeze after the close and stuffy warren of streets below. My greatcoat helped to hide my wings—along with a plethora of useful items—but it could be unpleasantly warm despite the cooling spells woven into the lining. "Ah! Captain Blackmane," came a pleasant voice from the stairs. "And…?" I turned to find a lavender pegasus mare, heavily adorned with Tanzebrian-style gold jewelry stepping onto the terrace. "This is Zashira, my third mate," I said, gesturing to Khaatarrekket, and using her zebra alias. "I am Trade Wind. You are welcome in my house, and it is a great pleasure to meet you both." Contrary to my expectations, she spoke perfect, unaccented Equuish. She turned to Ket and added, "Karibu nyumbani kwangu." in similarly flawless Zwahinny Zebrish. Her cutie mark was a treasure chest filled with scrolls. Interesting. Trade Wind sent for tea and refreshments, and we went through the typical exchange of compliments and polite talk that was the Zanzebrian version of a hoofbump. Nothing of importance could possibly be discussed until the current state of everypony's family, health, and business had been exchanged and commented on over tea, with appropriate good wishes for the future ladled on. As eager as I was to get a look at the tablets, I didn't feel any time pressure, and was truly interested in this unusual pony. "After your letter, you are very different from what I was expecting," I admitted to her. "Ah, yes," she said, dropping her eyes to the cup of iced mint tea she was holding between her wingtips, and blushing ever so slightly. "Forgive me for that, but there are usually only two types of creatures who are interested in ancient writings, and I wished to determine which sort you were." A year before, I would have grinned and blurted out, "Scholar or treasure-hunter?" But my voyages had given me a better understanding of the eastern culture, and she knew what she meant as well as I. I smoothed over her embarrassment by saying, "I quite enjoyed puzzling through the Arabian moon-runes, actually." "Indeed?" She cocked her head and gave me an evaluating look. "May I say without meaning any disregard that you, Captain, are not at all what I expected, either?" This time I did give her a grin. "Reputation is more important than gold on this coast." "Both of which you seem to have in great supply," she observed, Her smile had taken on a bit of an edge. Another test? I thought, and took a chance with a tangential approach to rudeness. "More than seems believable?" "Oh, I would never dream of doubting the famous captain of the Nebula!" she quickly replied. Saying, "the Nebula" had been a bit of a misstep[2], and I wasn't sure if it had been intentional or not, but I forced myself not to react or reply. Ket dispelled the slight tension by way of an eager interruption. "I confess I am excited to see the tablets you described to us, mistress Trade Wind!' "Oh, then let me fetch them for you!" Trade Wind said and leaped to her hooves. She quickly nipped down the stairs and out of sight. Evidently, though she trusted delicate cups and plates to her water buffalo assistant, ancient artifacts were a different matter. [2] Aeronauts and sailors do not refer to their craft prefixed by the definite article, any more than an average pony would ordinarily call me the Twilight. Our hostess soon returned with a large rosewood box and set it down on the low table between us. She opened the box, lifted out one of the velvet-wrapped shapes within, unwrapped the cloth from around a baked clay tablet, and set it down in front of me. I peered at the tiny triangular marks impressed in its surface and then looked up at my hostess. "This is a list of warehouse goods. Very old, yes, but hardly uncommon." Her mouth dropped open and then snapped shut. "Yes," I said, softly, "this rough and piratical-looking mare can read ancient Sumareian." "I… I must apologize! I seemed to have given you the wrong tablet! I am afraid I am only familiar with the later phonetic script just before it was supplanted by Ponycian." "An understandable mistake," I assured her as she put away the first tablet and unwrapped another. I had passed the canny mare's test, and I was liking her better by the moment. "Yes, this is the correct one," she said, turning the little clay brick over to reveal its reverse side. "You see? There is some sort of map here on the back." I studied the roughly incised lines for a few moments. Something about them was familiar. Then I turned the tablet over and began slowly working through the symbols and letters. It was in early Asshireian, which is primarily ideographic, but also uses phonetic characters. Sometimes ideographic characters are used to suggest phonemes. Yes, the written language is much like notes written in class by young ponies in a hurry to communicate. "Y R U L8? ☘♡ is going 2 t dance w/★♫! U O me ฿2." is a simple analogy. To make matters worse, because there was almost no standardization back in the ancient world, each region had its own wildly different idiosyncrasies. "The scholars I asked to look over this piece suggested that it may concern a tomb filled with traps," Trade Wind told me in an effort to be helpful. "The instructions seem to be how to correctly perform rituals to bypass the dangers." I considered that for a moment. What I had been able to read so far suggested something not quite in line with that hypothesis. I made a non-commital noise and continued decoding the text. Ket and Trade Wind left me to it, moving away from the table to the terrace railing and chatting away in Zwahinny. It was only a few more minutes before I interrupted their gossiping with a burst of uproarious laughter. Both ponies trotted over, looking at me expectantly. I set the tablet down with the diagram side upward. "I thought I recognised this!" I said, gleefully. "Trade Wind, this isn't a treasure map, it's a treasure itself! The best kind of treasure: knowledge!" Before she could ask, I told her the secret. "In the Royal Canterlot Museum there is an ancient artifact, recovered from a tomb in the ruins of the ancient Anubian city of Cur. It's an oddly shaped game board including pieces and dice. There are many others, recovered from digs all across the region; it must have been very popular. Of course nopony had any idea how it should be played… until now!" I pointed triumphantly to the little tablet. "These are… game rules?" The disappointment in her voice was quite evident. I had to look down away from her face when I nodded in order to prevent another bout of laughter that might offend her. "Well, it's a letter proposing changes in the rules... mostly to make it better for gambling as far as I can tell. But it briefly goes over the basics, and that's much more than anypony's had until now." "I… see. So, now you have the knowledge, but the tablet itself is worthwhile as a provenance, surely?" "Oh yes, I don't think that makes it much less valuable," I admitted. "But perhaps you will feel it only right to lower your price a bit if I take the other tablets along with it?" We whiled away the rest of the afternoon haggling pleasantly over more tea and delicacies. Trade Wind was shocked when I pulled a big bag of Saddle Arabian golden dinars out of my coat when we finally arrived at a mutually satisfactory price. "You carried such a sum through the Jaws?"[3] [3] In the heart of the old city is an intersection of five twisting streets that meet in a small, irregular plaza. It is decorated with several pairs of impressively-sized shark jaws hung on the surrounding buildings. To put it simply, it seems to be a concentration point for the most unsavory elements of Stone Town's population. Trade Wind's house was only a little ways north of the intersection and well within the neighborhood that had become known as the "Jaws." I smiled softly at her. "Trade Wind, may I presume to call you my friend?" She nodded, still wide-eyed. "Then, my friend, I assure you that no part of my reputation is exaggerated in the least." = = = Back aboard Nebula, I spent the early evening writing letters and making copies of the tablet's text and diagram, as well as my translation. I had Spike send a copy to the Curator of Antiquities at the Royal Canterlot Museum via Celestia, and bundled up the rest for more mundane delivery by mail packet. The tablet itself, along with the others in the rosewood box, I carefully tucked away in a secret compartment in my cabin. Pinkie Pie popped in to ask if I was dining aboard. In port, we went to Hoof, Wing, and Horn watches[4] to give the crew more time off, so at the change between the dog watches, most of the crew would be ashore, returning already fed, or preparing to spend an evening in town. Not many would be staying aboard for dinner, no matter how good the cooking was, and Pinkie was getting a headcount so we wouldn't waste supplies by making a lot more food than would be eaten. [4] The crew was not assigned watches by tribe, of course. The names just reflected the separation of the crew into three watches rather than two, and provided convenient labels for each. On some larger vessels, they are called Mizzen, Main, and Fore after the masts, or are given arbitrary colors as designators. It turned out that only Fluttershy, AJ, Pinkie, and I would be at dinner, so AJ made individual veggie pot pies while Pinkie whipped up a batch of cookies for dessert. We sat at a table on the crew deck with the main hatch cover off for ventilation. After we had eaten, we stayed at the table and chatted about this and that until Pinkie suggested playing a game of Pin the Cutlass to the Pirate. "Wait!" I said, teleporting a piece of paper and a quill from my cabin. "I have an idea for another game we could play!" Pinkie's smile froze and her brow began to wrinkle. "Is it a word game? Or something involving math? 'Cause I dunno…" "Nope!" I replied cheerfully, while sketching out an irregular grid on the paper and drawing in symbols in the appropriate squares. "It's a game that was played long ago in this part of the world." Pinkie's expression changed to something more… avaricious, but AJ was still unconvinced. "So, this here game is some sorta history thing?" "Historical yes, but it's really a simple board game," I said, and winked in a few little bits of wood from the carpenter's stores that I could use to make counters and dice. "I can explain the rules in two or three minutes, and we will be the first ponies to play it in almost two thousand years!" It only took one game to convince them. It turned out that the Royal Game of Cur [5] was not only a bit of history and an interesting window into the past. It was also a lot of fun. A beginner had enough of a chance of winning to keep them interested, but it was obvious that an advanced player, who had worked out the strategies and probabilities, would win more games in the long run. The special squares gave enough of a boost that come-from-behind wins were not uncommon. [5] That isn't the game's original name, of course. To this day, nopony knows what it was actually called. The name we know it by now was decided upon because the first board was discovered in a royal tomb in the city of Cur. It was quite late when most of us got too sleepy to play. It was very clear by then why the game had been so popular that it had been played in one form or another for almost three thousand years. Fairlead and some others of the crew had joined us, and Half Hitch was already forming plans to make up a few proper sets of the game. All in all it had been a pretty perfect day. = = = Author's Note Again, my heartfelt thanks to Jordanis for superb editing! He is amazing at de-clunkifying my more contorted prose! The Royal Game of ~~Cur~~ Ur[1] is an actual thing, as is the tablet I describe in the story: And it is a very fun game to play! You can play an online version here: https://gameofuronline.com/ [1] Also known as The Game of Twenty Squares. Through my own research, I believe that it may have been called Telannu, as the gift of an alabastar game set with pieces of gold and silver were mentioned in the Amarna letters (EA22, IV, lines 7-9) using that word, which appears nowhere else in the lexicon. As it was a gift to the Egyptian Pharoh (Circa 1300 BCE), it cannot be a Sennet or Hounds and Jackals set, as it would have been called by those names. This, of course, is not proof, but as the game was the most wide-spread and popular of the Bronze age world, I think it is very likely. I strongly disagree with the incredibly timid judgement of the editors of The Chicago Assyrian Dictionary who tentatively define the word as "stone object." Remember, when an archaeologist uses the word "object," it means, "I have no idea what this thing is, or what it was used for."
A Glimmer of HopeChapter Three A Glimmer of Hope In which the philosophy of planting a dozen seeds to raise one sprout is given a piratical bent. July 9th, 1013 On the Heights and in the Night Market Stone Town, Zanzebra I found that I had somehow given in to all of Fluttershy's demands and Nebula would be getting a complete refit and glamor make-over. It was a good thing I had hefty letters of credit through the more reputable eastern banking houses, but I worried that I might have to turn to actual piracy before the year was out just to keep my ship aloft. Actual gold leaf on the big stars forward of Nebula's steering fins? How had I ever agreed to that? Yet there was my signature on the work order. I was fairly sure it wasn't a forgery. "Pardon me, darling," came Rarity's voice from behind me as I stood on the mooring tower gantry, staring up at my glittering ship in disbelief. I didn't even turn around. "No, I am not ordering a case of artisanal brass polish!" There was a pause, and then Rarity positively cooed at me. "Is there such a product? Ooh, Twilight, darling! You must—" "No, no!" I insisted, turning to face her. "There is no such thing! I was being sarcastic, and we couldn't afford it even if it was real! We will barely be able to pay our port fees by the time we're finished here!" "Well, if you'd let us keep just a teensy bit of the treasure we recover from those horrid pirates, we could easily—" I just glared at her. "Oh, well, I can see you're in a mood, and I won't bother you any further! But we simply must talk about a few absolutely necessary accoutrements as soon as you feel calmer!" She swept past me and trotted down the stairs to the base of the tower. I went into my cabin and fumed. A bit; I had to admit that Nebula looked glorious. After lunch, Rarity came back aboard and Mr. Fairlead informed her that I wanted to see her in my cabin. She came in with a cautious expression on her face. "Twilight, dear, I hope you aren't—" "Which one?" I interrupted her. "Pardon?" Which outfit?" I clarified pointing to my bunk where I had laid out my best sets of clothing. "I'm having dinner with Zenobia and her family tonight. I got a note saying some of the Councillors and other important ponies will be there as well, and I want to make a good impression." "Oh!" Rarity's expression brightened considerably, and she stepped over to the bed, her horn shimmering to life. "Not this tacky old thing, that's for certain!" she said, floating my indigo and platinum evening coat and accessories back into the wardrobe. I had bought the outfit only a few months ago on her advice. The lace alone had cost me over 300 silver riyals. I bit my tongue and waited patiently. "Not the gardecorps… too fussy," she muttered to herself. "Red and gold, I think. To match Nebula's new stars." "My ship won't be going along," I pointed out. "No," Rarity agreed, holding up my oxblood greatcoat and turning it around to examine it more closely. "But everyone knows about the new gold stars. They're the talk of the town, and ponies will have them in mind when you meet them." It made a kind of sense. "But isn't that coat a bit rough for a fancy dinner?" I asked. "That's the point, darling!" Rarity couldn't quite keep a note of exasperation out of her voice. "It is rough and practical, but also beautiful. Just the thing for a pirate in polite company!" "Privateer," I corrected her. I had the Letters of Marque from three different Zebrican nations to prove it. She went on without acknowledging the facts of the matter. "If you try to dress-up, as they say, you will only look like you're trying to climb above your station. If you dress appropriately, but richly, the nobles will see you as a mare who has become an utter success in her field!" She paused and looked over at me. "You do have a large gold hoop earring, don't you?" "Arrr," I replied. Rarity sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'll switch out these brass buttons for gold, and add that gold collar I picked up in Marelawi. That and a ruby pendant and a dozen or so golden hoofrings should do it. My ensemble will be much less flashy, but still stunning, I assure you." "Huh?" I blinked. "You're coming along?" "Of course, darling! This—" She waved a hoof at my floating jewelry. "—will be impressive, but I will be your most impressive accessory!" She thought for a minute and then added, "And I should have a word with dear Khaatarrekket. She should be suitably attired as well." Once again, things were out of my hooves, but I found that I didn't mind all that much. When we were bathed, made-up, dressed, and accessorized half to death, we made quite a sight, I had to admit. Ket was a bit of a surprise, though. "Bodyguard," Rarity explained to me. "Okay," I admitted, waving a hoof at Ket's new huge male body. "She's.... uh… he's very impressive, but… you and me, Rarity? The last thing we two need is a bodyguard! Aside from magic, I'm wearing my shortswords for Celestia's sake, and if you don't have a half-dozen blades hidden under that dress, I'll eat my eyepatch! The last time some nit-wits tried to rob us—" "Yes, yes, but it's all about image, Twilight!" she said. "Necessary or not, to be without a fearsome-looking attendant in the evening is tres déclassé!" Trust Rarity to know the finer points of upper-class etiquette on Zanzebra. Zenobia lived in a nice little compound about halfway up the old basalt mountain that rises behind the city. We took a carriage up from Gold Market street because Rarity nearly fainted when I suggested we walk. I suppose she was right, because it seemed like half the upper city was arriving in front of the house, and they had brought so many servants with them that the poor ponies had to stand outside the wall in the street. A young zebra standing at the gate spotted us and rushed out to escort us (minus Ket, who went to join the crowd of professional bruisers) into the house. Zenobia and her mother greeted us warmly, but as Zen hugged me she whispered quickly into my ear, "I'm sorry about this! I will make it up to you!" Evidently things had gotten out of hoof on her end as well. I already knew a couple of the Counselors, and they made much of the acquaintance, introducing me to the rest as if they were my closest friends. I was initially miffed that everypony seemed to be ignoring Rarity, but then I realized that nopony was introducing their companions. Rarity hadn't been joking about being an accessory. I bore it stoically; the Canterlot nobility weren't much better. But I was disappointed. I had expected a cozy family get-together, not a full-blown soirée! But I was on full display and I made the best of it. I don't know if I have much natural talent as a storyteller, but all I had to do was channel my inner Rainbow Dash, and recount some of the exaggerated tales I'd heard her spin on Nebula's deck. It seemed to satisfy almost everypony. There wasn't enough space for all the guests in the dining room, so tables were set up in the garden under silk canopies and surrounded by colored lanterns. I'm fairly sure Zenobia had to borrow cushions and other furniture from her neighbors. Dinner was… well, I'm not sure exactly what it was. Excellent, of course, but I was so engrossed in conversation I can't exactly remember the dishes I ate. There was music, too. Lovely, exotic melodies that were almost completely drowned out by the chatter. After dinner, I got a very nice surprise indeed. The chief Councilor and the president of the Merchant's Guild announced that the Guild treasury was going to cover half of Nebula's refit costs, now and at any time we put into Stone Town thereafter. I was stunned at this sudden, incredible generosity, but as Zenobia explained to me afterwards, it was mostly canny self-interest on the Guild's part. The eastern pirates had learned to be terrified of Nebula and her crew.[1] News that we were anywhere near Zanzebra would guarantee that the trade routes to and from the city would remain untouched by all but the most clueless or desperate. Our presence saved the great merchant houses of the island millions in lost ships and cargo. They could well afford to coat Nebula's entire envelope with gold leaf. It was no wonder I was suddenly so popular. [1] Lately, we had had to resort to disguising the ship and planting false rumors of our planned course in order to catch any of them. The party began to break up around midnight. I promised Zenobia that we would sneak a quiet, cozy meal together on the down-low, later in the week. I made an attempt to apologize to Ket and Rarity for having left them out of the activity while we waited for our carriage, but Rarity would have none of it. "Oh, pish-posh darling! While you and all the sharp stripes were hob-nobbing at the high table, I was awash in a positively delicious whirlpool of gossip! I have the dirt on every high family on the island now!" She did a gleeful little dance on her hoof tips and squealed in delight. Well, we all have our hobbies, I suppose. Ket was likewise unperturbed, but for slightly different reasons. "Being upstanding citizens, you lot couldn't drink or gamble. I won a few hundred shillings at dice, and am pleasantly tipsy." I chuckled. "It seems like a successful evening all around then." It was true. Everything had gone very well, but I felt… restless for some reason. I thought about it as the carriage worked its way down the switchbacks of the highland road. We had been successful beyond my wildest hopes, but Rawboned Mari was still out there somewhere. She was the worst of the eastern pirates, brutal, merciless, and worst of all, smart. In the last few months, I'd done my best to hunt her down, trap her, or trick her into revealing herself, all to no avail. I'd ruined the plans of her minions time and again, and nibbled at the edges of her fleet, but had never come close to the mare herself. Was I afraid that my success so far would hamper me in the future? Would capturing the Pirate Queen be the final victory I hoped for… even assuming I could pull it off? Or would dozens of replacements spring up in her wake? I suddenly realized that I was ruining a wonderful night by worrying about future events not yet determined, and I snorted in disgust at myself. I looked around and realized that we were only a few blocks from Mareajani Street. I tapped on the forward rail and called out, "Acha hapa!" Rarity and Ket gave me puzzled looks as the carriage slowed to a stop. "I'll see you back aboard," I told them, and hopped out onto the street. They had questions. Of course they did. But I trotted off into the night before Rarity could get beyond sputtering in surprise. I ducked into a narrow little alleyway and worked my way toward the Night Market. I caught the smells first. It was after midnight, but most ponies in the region ate very late; cafes and restaurants were open to nearly dawn. Scents of coffee, spices, hot oil, and even frying meat teased my nose. Then I heard the soft murmur of conversations in dozens of languages, echoing from the mudbrick walls like the sound of a distant sea. Finally the lane opened up and rich panoply of the market lay before me. During the day, the Mareajani Bazaar was a giant spice market. I had bought many hundredweights of cloves, nutmeg, anise, cinnamon, and suchlike there for trade cargos, and knew the place very well… at least in the daytime. After the sun was well down, and the spices were locked away in warehouses, the space became the Night Market. Little stalls and ad hoc cafes spilled out from under the big, open-sided building that was the official marketplace and covered most of the pavement of the surrounding streets. Twinkling lights of all kinds hung from the canopies, awnings, and even the trees lining the street. A good deal of what was sold from the little stalls were trinkets; little luxuries that couples out for a meal or a stroll might buy each other by impulse. Jugglers, fire-eaters, and musicians wandered through the crowd, performing for tossed coins. Despite the late hour, toys for small foals were not an uncommon item. Clothing and jewelry, fine dishes and silverware, all were to be had at the Night Market. On a previous visit, Rarity had discovered a stall that sold curious woodcarvings imported from the interior of Zebrica. Nebula's crew had nearly bought out the whole stock and many homes in Ponyville now contained interesting bits of inexplicable art, gifted to the families by one of their more unusual friends.[2] I kept an eye out for the stall while I wandered… out of nostalgia, I suppose, but they almost all changed locations each night, and I had other places to be. [2] There was a very blatant fertility symbol proudly displayed on the wall of Mrs. Cake's parlor. Fortunately, nopony ever realized what it represented because it was strongly stylized and Pinkie Pie had hung it upside down. And now that I come to comment on it, I'm not sure if that was an accident or not. One of the stalls that didn't move every night was a little place tucked between two irregular buildings across the street from the main market hall. It was a space that had been created by roofing over an alley and building a wall at either end. If it wasn't the most narrow restaurant in the world, I would be very surprised. During the day it only sold snacks to go, passing them out over the bottom half of the double doorway that occupied most of the front wall, but at night it spewed forth an amazing amount of low tables and cushions, as well as canopies, pole lanterns, and even a few potted palms. The space in front of the tiny restaurant was transformed into a charming sidewalk (and roadway) cafe. Even better, the proprietors were giraffes from Tanzebria, and utterly unencumbered by any devout attitudes towards alcohol. They sold the best palm wine in the city. I was pleased that they recognized me and I spent a few minutes chatting with them before ordering and selecting a table. A young zebra couple were seated at the one I wanted, but a hoofful of gold and a chance to brag that they'd had a quick drink with the Captain Blackmane convinced them to let me have it. I sat down with my back to the brown and white bricks of the wall next to a conveniently placed potted palm. The plant screened me from most of the market, while allowing me to see fairly well out through its fronds. I settled in, uncorked my jug of wine, and began the attempt to derail my inexplicable melancholy.[3] [3] I want to state for the record that I am not much of a drinker, and do not enjoy being drunk at all. That night's adventure was purely because I know from hard-won experience that there are only a few things that can kick me hard enough in the brain to get it out of a senseless rut. Since an ancient artifact oozing with dark magic wasn't readily available, cheap alcohol had to suffice. It was the change in the sound of the crowd that alerted me. The smooth rumble stuttered and quieted ever so slightly, but it was enough to make my ears prick up, even after working my way through half of the jug. I pulled down on one of the palm's fronds and peered out at the street. There was a disheveled griffin walking along the ragged edge of the market stalls with a nearly empty burlap sack slung across her back. Her expression was neutral and nonthreatening, but the way she carried herself and the jagged carving on her beak advertised her as an "ugly customer." Everycreature got out of her way as soon as they spotted her. "You look like you need a drink," some idiot called out to her. She wasn't certain who had spoken at first, and as I was half hidden behind the palm, I had to lean out and wave to show her it had been me. She froze when she recognized me. The last time she had seen me, I was lifting her trussed-up carcass out of Nebula's hold and tossing it into a cargo wagon. "C'mon!" I encouraged her, waving the jug. "Grab another mug at the door over there! Tartarus, grab another jug! This one's half empty." It took her several long moments to get moving, but then she strode over to the cafe's doorway. I floated over enough coins to pay for another jug of wine and set them down on the little shelf built onto the top of the bottom half of the door. The griffin brought over the jug and another mug and put them down on the table, but she didn't sit down immediately. "What are you doing?" she asked. It was a fair question. It was a good question. Since I didn’t have an answer, I chose to ignore it, and I waved a hoof to vaguely encompass both her and the cushion across from me. "Sit down, tall-stuff. You need an excuse to drink?" She shrugged and sat down. I poured. We drank. "Flaming flight feathers!" the griffin cursed. "This stuff tastes like weasel snot!" "Yup," I agreed. "And it's the expensive stuff!" I refilled our mugs. "But it'll do the job." The griffin looked around again, no doubt trying to spot any of my shipmates. "What are you doing?" she asked again. "I'm drinking with an ex-pirate," I explained patiently. "I could kill you," she said. This griffin was a straight-forward sort of gal. I liked her. "Yeah... no," I said, smiling. "And even if you somehow managed it… what then?" She glared at me. I noticed that the lower edge of her upper beak had been filed into a series of points so that it sort of looked like fangs. Kind of cool, actually. "I should be dead already," she grumbled, taking another swig of the palm wine. I nodded. "Yeah, most places execute pirates as soon as they catch them. Did you know that in Equestria they turn them into stone? I dunno if that's worse, but it's reversible… mostly. Sometimes, relatives that want revenge will sneak out behind the hedge maze at night with sledgehammers and… oh sorry. Touchy subject?" The griffin buried her beak in her mug and then held it out for a refill. "Why aren't I dead?" "Didn't they explain that to you when they let you go?" "They told me the rules, but that ain't the reason." Smart bird. I waved my mug in the general direction of the Heights. "The rules are theirs, the reason is mine." I likewise indicated myself with a gesture, slopping a little bit of wine on my greatcoat. "I believe that everycreature deserves a second chance, and I made an agreement with the Council: I turn over the pirates I catch and they give them that chance." "You can't be that stupid," she said flatly. "Right again," I agreed. She squinted at me and then took another drink. "No, I mean… a second chance? Sure, anybird would take an easy out from getting chopped, but what then?" "Well… there are a lot of jobs on this island. Plenty of lugging boxes around at the ports and warehouses. You can fly, so you could spot for the fishing fleet, or you could ship out again." "Yeah, right!" She looked like she wanted to spit, but I supposed that's hard to do for a beaked person. I shrugged. "Better than getting your gizzard exteriorized." She swallowed and she hadn't even taken a pull from her mug. "And how many pirates make use of that second chance?" "Maybe one in a hundred," I admitted. "Most go back to robbing or stealing, and as soon as they do… thwickt! No third chances." She stared at me wide-eyed and I realized I had drawn one of my short blades and thunked its edge into the table by way of demonstration. "Oops. Sorry about that," I said, attempting a sheepish smile that may have come across a lot more sharkish than I intended, judging by the way her pupils suddenly shrank. I levered the blade out of the wood and slid it back into its sheath. She held her mug in both claws and lowered her head, staring into the thick liquid. "So why do it? Pirates are pirates. We go back to the old ways eventually, so why bother dancing around it?" I filled my mug again and held out the jug. The griffin shook her head. "Because that one in a hundred is worth the effort expended on all the rest. Pirates aren't all the same and this is the only easy way I've found to find the gems hidden in the manticore dung." She finally drank. "You think I'll make it? Maybe ship out with some nice fat merchant captain who could stomach a face like this?" She savagely jabbed a primary feather at her scarred beak. "I have no idea," I admitted. "But the point is, you could. And it's up to you." I thought for a moment. "You want a job? It'd be rougher than loafing around on some merchant vessel." "I ain't afraid of rough." I nodded. "Bodyguard work," I told her. "It's mostly intimidation, but you never know when things will go south. Your looks would be an asset in that profession. The 'quality' hereabouts are big on being seen with flashy muscle." "Huh. I might not mind that." "Alright, then." I floated twenty or thirty coins out of my coat and set them down in front of her. "There's a guesthouse around the corner, half a block down on the left. It's nothing fancy, but it's clean. This should cover a week or so. I'll put the word out and I should have something for you in a couple of days." She stared at the coins like they were red hot. "You're kidding." "I'm drunk. Take advantage of me." She shrugged, swung the sack off her back, and scooped the coins into it. "You're really going to let me flit off with your money? What if I just disappear?" It was my turn to shrug. "I don't really care. I only care if you betray my trust by hurting some innocent." "And if I do?" I drained my mug, set it down on the table in front of her, and lit my horn. "You'll never make it to the execution block." The glass suddenly glowed brightly and slumped down into a puddle on the table. The heat of it blackened the wood and made little flames shoot out from underneath. Neither of us bothered to fan the smoke out of the way. Her gaze lifted from the molten glass to my eyes, and she seemed to be searching my face for a very long moment while her tongue worried at one of the carved false-fangs on her beak. Finally, she looked down at the table again as she stood with what I imagined was all the delicacy she possessed. She hesitated and then held out her right claw curled into a fist. "Name's Grish." I gave her a hoofbump and she turned and vanished into the night. I shook both bottles; they were empty. Time to get back to my ship. I turned and patted the ceramic pot that held the little palm tree beside me. "Thanks for the backup, Ket!" There was a flash of magical green fire and my third mate stood next to me. "How in Tartarus did you know it was me?" she demanded. "The little gaps along the edge of the fronds? On these palms, they're rounded; yours were pointed. Plus, you still kinda smell of that gongo you were drinking outside of Zenobia's place. Y'know you shouldn't drink so much on shore leave right?" "With all due respect, Captain…" she trailed off and stared over my shoulder. I turned to see that we were the focus of quite a large audience. I did a rough estimate and determined that the crowd was composed of approximately 63% eyeballs. "Time to go?" I whispered out of the side of my mouth to Ket. "Oh yeah," she replied. I wasn't sufficiently unwise to attempt teleportation in my condition so we galloped for the nearest alleyway where I could shuck my coat off my wings, and then we flew back to Nebula. Didn't hit a single mooring tower on the way. Rarity was waiting for us when we landed. I ignored her stink-eye and held out my coat. "You can get palm wine stains out, right?" She took the coat from me without a word and went below. That night, I slept like a pegasus foal wrapped in summer clouds. = = = Author's Note I'd almost forgotten how much fun it is to write Pirate Twilight making friends through the implication of horrific violence! Nebula, moored above Stone Town: Once again, I need to thank Jordanis for the heroic job he did of editing, and by "editing" I mean not only the technical stuff, but also suggesting phrases and sometimes whole passages that replaced my plodding prose with near-poetry!
