The desk jockey had thrown her out before she could even ask for a refund. The only upside was that they had shoved a paper into her hooves as they forced her back onto the street. “Touchy subject much?” Swift groused. She looked down at what she found to be the day’s newspaper and began walking deeper into the city.

I suppose there isn’t much question about what happened to them around here, Swift thought to herself after reading the title of the front page. Another Family Torched by the Blackflame Butcher - Fourth in Two Months! There was a helpful notice directing her deeper into its papery folds if she wanted more information than just a sensationalized headline.

She tucked the paper beneath her wing and picked up her pace. She’d have plenty of time to do some light bedtime reading once she had a place to stay the night — someplace slightly safer than an alley in a city apparently housing a fire-happy murderer.

Luckily for her, Swift didn’t have to go much further into the ringed districts of the city to find another inn. This time, she avoided mentioning who she was looking for before she got her room key and locked herself into the relative safety of her small room.

It was a small space, not much larger than her room back in Thestralia, with a small bed of clouds tucked against the far wall for a bed and a much more solid desk beside it. Swift ran a hoof over the desk and pressed down slightly before nodding to herself. Moments later she laid her case on the table and flopped onto the cloud bed to start informing herself about the local situation.

***

Gust fidgeted at his desk in the Westerly Inn. Business had been incredibly slow over the last few months. Now that the rates for the trains had been up for a while as well, he hadn’t seen many ponies who needed an inn to stay in. When boss finds out what happened last night I’m going to be fired, and if that mare presses charges for me stiffing her refund he’s not going to stick up for me! “I’ll be paying out of hoof for all of it! I don’t have that kind of money! I need to find her!”

He rushed out onto the street and looked both ways before darting off in the direction he’d seen the mare go the night before. He twitched at the slightest sounds in the early morning light, anypony would, he rationalized.

As the shadows shortened he only felt more exposed, as if he were stepping into a chimera’s den, but there was nowhere for him to hide in the wide streets and empty space between buildings. He wasn’t doing anything illegal or that could suggest he had any knowledge of anything to do with the case on everypony’s minds. If anything, his nervous behavior was far more suspicious than he thought it was, or so the guardsponies that apprehended him believed.

***

Swift was sat at a small table in a tea shop and brooded. She didn’t sulk, because sulking was for people who’d given up on improving their situation, and she hadn’t quite given up yet. She’d only mostly given up.

She’d been asking ponies from almost noon to dusk about the whereabouts of the missing agent’s house to little avail. All she had been able to find was which quarter of the city the street was supposed to be in and nopony had bothered to be more specific about where it was before bolting off.

Swift frowned down into her now cold tea while she mulled over her options for moving forward. She’d exhausted essentially all of the asocial options available to her well before she’d ordered some tea at The Pond, and most of the social ones too, if she was being honest with herself. Whoever the killer was had apparently made it known that ponies connected to the agent and his family were next on the hit list. Which was inconvenient for her in a multitude of ways — mainly that nopony wanted anything to do with either her or the guard and that there was now more than likely a target on her back.

“Hmm. Maybe I can use that,” swift said to herself.

“Use what?” Asked an elderly-sounding pony from behind her. She’d had her scanners turned off or down to the levels of the average pony, content that the wouldn’t be assaulted in a brightly lit square with numerous witnesses. She now came to assess that that was a poor decision and one that should not be repeated anytime soon.

“A drink.”

“You’ve had a drink. For quite a while too I might add.”

“It doesn’t taste that good. Barely worth the coppers.”

“It can’t be that bad, surely.” He said as he slipped into the seat across from her. “A sip, if I may?”

“I won’t stop you.”

“That’s not a yes.” He said, in a mildly disapproving tone.

“Yes, then. You may drink the remains of my tea.”

He moved his hoof across the table and peered down into her cup. “Nevermind. You’ve the right of it. The black tea here isn’t nearly as good as their other offerings.” Swift watched as he drank the liquid anyway before he looked back at her. “So why’d you choose it?”

“The tea? Is it supposed to be common knowledge?”

“I’ve been all over Equestria in my life and not once have I found a shop that sells good black tea. But it’s a well-worn joke here that the Pond intentionally gets the worst product available.” He glanced down at the cup and then back to her. “You’re not from around here, but you look like you can handle yourself.”

Swift didn’t like what her newest acquaintance was saying nor how he was saying it. He’d pegged her as an outsider just by her drink. What was worse was that he was clearly building up to something more important based on his latter statement. Silence was Swift’s answer to the stallion’s statement.

“I’ve heard you’re looking for whistles’ house. 273 Snowflake Lane. I can give you directions.” He whispered.

The offer was everything she wanted. Despite what she would lead him to believe even just poking around for a couple of minutes would give her enough for a detailed report — probably. The only issue was the highly suspicious nature of the offer. Sure, he’d leaned in and whispered, but that was nothing compared to what he knew he was offering.

Ever since she had made it to Cloudsdale she had made it clear to everypony around her that she was very interested in

Was the old stallion in front of her the arsonist? Probably not, she reasoned, but she’d been wrong before. “And in return?”

“Once you’re done you leave Cloudsdale by sunrise tomorrow.”

“That’s not much time.”

“You won’t need much, just a glance at it should be enough to give you everything you want.”

“Well, if you say so,” she lied — fully intending to stay as long as she pleased, “you’re the local expert.”

“Follow me, then.” He took off immediately and barely waited for her before making off toward the outer reaches of Cloudsdale. As she followed, she couldn't shake a mild undercurrent of guilt -- she was supposed to be starting fresh on a new, better, life and not recreating her old self with an Equestrian coat of paint.

The city was massive. Not quite on the scale of Manehattan, but close, it also grew far denser the closer to the center of the city one got. The stallion, who she hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, stopped suddenly in the air and turned back to her. Swift tensed for a fight but kept her preparations hidden while he talked.

“Alright. Here’s where I’m leaving you. If you follow this row of houses down two intersections and take a right, the place you’re looking for will be the third house on the right side of the road. It’s impossible to miss.” He said, pointing in the direction of the house with his hoof.

Swift kept track of him as she passed in front of his stationary form and noticed his eyes following her from within the craggy confines of his wrinkled face. As soon as she was past him, they quickly parted ways with him moving toward the city center and her to what she could only now describe as a hole and not a home.

There was still a mailbox outside and a front path leading from the street, but they no longer had anything to attach to. The entire scene was cordoned off with marking streamers that did little to hinder her from getting a closer look at what had happened to the home. The paint on the mailbox was faded and peeling from exposure without regular maintenance, and the color had dropped out of the paving clouds. Of what had once been a house, there was no trace.

She’d had photographs of the home from the outside and the only trace that it had ever been where she stood — besides the city infrastructure — was the perfect circle in the clouds where it should’ve been. No fluffiness existed along the edge, making the hole look closer to a marble carving than anything else. When she stepped in for a closer look she found the circle's edge cracked and crumbled under her weight. The part near her hoof smudged on in a thin white smear like chalk, or soot, she thought.

The paper had talked at length about the arsonist but not what they had been burning. Swift had suspected that it was just the ponies that were being burned because clouds couldn’t be burned. Evidently, though, whatever the arsonist was using for their attacks was quite capable of combusting with magically condensed clouds. Nothing she knew of was capable of such a feat, not anything Thestralia had produced and certainly nothing that they had caught wind of either.

If some nobod-pony, it’s always pony around here, has the skill and equipment to make something this dangerous, I should think they would’ve been found by now; unless the guards are incompetent. That’s always a possibility. She thought while gazing at what was more than likely the final resting place of the pony she was looking for.

***

In the time it took for dusk to become night proper Swift had searched around for anything more of substance for her report, yet she had not found more than extra samples of the burned clouds. She only retreated from the scene when she had noticed herself becoming drowsy and bleary.

Despite her time at the agent’s home, and now quite blatant connection, Swift wasn’t attacked. No matter how many dubious unwatched corridors she went down as a means to return to her hotel room there was not a sign of anypony following her. Nopony tried to drag her into the darkness, and by the time she slid the deadbolt on her door into place the world around her had lapsed into silence.

The thin walls of the inn’s rooms weren’t made to keep sound from permeating through them, yet still she heard nothing. She decided that her current privacy was enough to send out a preliminary report and got to writing.

Not a quarter hour later, Swift heard two sets of hooves moving up the hallway toward her. She paused and slowly hid her transmitter disguised as a typewriter behind her opened case on the desk while hoping whoever it was couldn’t hear her. Her report was in the middle of being sent via satellite connection, and she wouldn’t have another opportunity for another month if she shut it down now.

The hoofsteps moved down the corridor, slowing at each door before moving closer. Swift climbed into the bed and rested her head on the pillow covering her typewriter. 63%

“Room 112. This is the one,” Came a voice from the other side. Not a second later the door shuddered as a hoof knocked twice.

With fake grogginess, Swift got up and pulled the door wide open. They were guards, or they looked like guards anyway. “Miss Swift Wing? We need you to come with us. It’s for your protection,” said the second guard.

Swift sat down and rubbed her eyes with her hoof, the other still hidden behind the door and prepared to strike. “Why d’you want me, and where’d we be going?” She asked. 70%

“We want to bring you in because you’ve put yourself at risk of being targeted by the group attacking ponies with connections to the Whistles household. If you allow us, we’ll take you to the station for an interview.”

Group. If the guard found me, likely, they have too. I knew I was being visible before, but this level of exposure is untenable. “And when are we leaving?”

“Now. Preferably. The night is the safest time to move for all of us. Less chance they see you, and us two with you.” Said the first guard.

“Well,” she paused 83%, “if you give me a minute to pack my bags I’ll be right out,” Swift said before she closed the door.

“She changed tune pretty quickly. Think we’ll get anything out of her?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. She’s smarter than the last two though. She’s coming with us.”

Author's Note

Apologies that this is later than my more recent posts. I was out with family on a trip and away from my computers.

It's 1:01 AM where I am after final editing.
z z Z
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