He Who Speaks for the Sun

"As a diplomat of Equestria, it's important to remember that your decisions will affect others! It might feel good in the moment to cut off trade because somepony called you a mean name, but think about just how much it will hurt the rest of the country you're serving! Remember, you're the voice of Celestia and Luna to the world!"
—The Precocious Princeling's Guide to Diplomatic Relations

Chapter 9: Kings and Successions

“I get that you’re stressing over a big decision,” Trixie said as she and Blueblood walked the moonlit streets of Saddle Arabia. They had turned off a major thoroughfare and were now entering the coolness of a shady park. “But it's late. A mare needs her beauty rest after all.”

“I can’t think if I’m sitting still.” Blueblood huffed as he went on, trudging like a pony condemned. “Nopony is stopping you from returning to the palace without me.”

“And risk getting lost without my translator? I’d think you want me dead sometimes.” She rolled her eyes and sped up to match his pace.

The moon had risen and the stars came out to play. The street lamps were lit and the world became one of long shadows and long thoughts.

“He played us.” Blueblood tangled a hoof in his mane, repeating the sentiment for the fifth time tonight. “All this time I assumed I had an advantage, and he saw right through me.”

“So you’ve said.”

“He knew exactly what buttons to push.” This one he was repeating for the fourth time. “He had me right where he wanted me and he knew it. All this time I was playing right into his hooves.”

“You’ve said that too.”

“Celestia was wrong about me.”

“You really are just playing your greatest hits tonight, aren’t you?” Trixie said as she trotted alongside him.

“What else do you want me to say?” Blueblood shrugged despondently. “We were beaten before we even started to play.”

“Okay, now you’re just being dramatic.” Trixie stopped him and gripped his shoulder hard. “Get a grip, sad sack. We’re not beaten.”

“But—”

Trixie cut him off, pressing a hoof over his mouth to shut him up. “Celestia help me, if you keep moping I’m going to slap you.”

He didn’t reply, but clearly swallowed the words on his tongue.

“It’s not over until a new Caliph is sitting on the throne. Until then, we’re still very much in this.” Trixie pulled her hoof away from his mouth. “So let's start with the most pressing question. Do you want to be Caliph?”

“I don’t know.” Blueblood wavered. “There’s no way to be worse than Sandalwood is right now. I could do real good here, Briar. Chicory would be free, the riots would stop, and I could fix the sagging economy. To rule is what I’ve been training for since I was a colt.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“But I’d be doing it backed by Fairweather. He would want to be the power behind my reign. If he can put me on the throne, what’s stopping him from putting somepony else there if he doesn’t like my style? That gives him a lot more sway than I’d be comfortable with.”

“Plus, you’ve both failed to consider the fact that the Caliph has a kid,” Trixie said plainly. “Cedar is next in line, even if he is just a child. So really, Fairweather would be the power behind you, who was the power behind Cedar.”

“Poor kid.” Blueblood exhaled a sigh. “No colt should be thrown into politics so early.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Very much so.”

“So if you don’t want to take the position, where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Fairweather likely has other irons in the fire. Alabaster was one of them. I’m another. I just know that when Alabaster rejected his deal—”

“—He turned up dead.” Trixie finished for him. “Yeah, that’s troubling.”

“Fairweather asked us to meet him in a couple of days for a tour of his factory.” Blueblood tried to brush off the thought that he was in the crosshairs of a murderer. “I’m guessing he’ll want an answer then.”

“Then we have time to think about it.” Trixie gently shouldered him as they came to a fork in the road, and Blueblood began to march towards the palace. “But you’re tired. I’m tired. We can come up with a solution in the morning.”

Blueblood could only nod silently. The morning would clear things up.

*****

When they arrived back at the palace, Blueblood shoved open the door to their room and expected to see Chicory. What he didn’t expect was to see Aster standing in the middle of his room looking like a statue.

“Ah, my prince. Welcome back.” The horse bowed as Blueblood entered. “I was concerned when I arrived and didn’t find you.”

“Did you need something, Aster?” Blueblood instinctively scanned the room. Nothing appeared out of place. Everything was where he had left it before the Sobriquet.

“Just a moment of your time to talk.” The liaison smiled broadly and gestured for the door. “Come, walk with me.”

“It’s been a long night, Aster.” Blueblood yawned. “Can it wait until morning?”

“It cannot.” His voice took on the same hardness it did when he spoke for the Caliph. “My prince, come with me.”

Blueblood glanced to Trixie, who flashed a worried frown. It seemed she was being cut out of all the political talks. But he sucked in a deep breath and steeled himself despite his exhaustion.

“Alright. Briar, I’ll be back soon.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved a hoof nonchalantly, despite her concern. “I’ll be asleep when you get back.”

“Sleep well.”

Blueblood closed the door behind him and fell into line beside Aster. His liaison held himself with a potent air, the aura of a horse protected by legality and procedure. “My prince, I’ve been concerned about you recently.”

“Understandably so,” Blueblood replied as they passed through the gallery of the diplomatic wing. “My predecessor was murdered, and then the Caliph survives an assassination attempt. Things are moving too fast to track these days.” He paused and took a breath. “Speaking of, how is he?”

“The Caliph, whose bravery is unmatched, is recovering nicely.” If Aster was lying, he didn’t betray it in his expression. “But your actions have not been helping during what ought to be a time of rest for him.”

“I’m sorry, but my work never rests.” The prince shrugged.

“My prince,” Aster stopped dead in his tracks. He stood close enough to Blueblood that it was an invasion of his personal space—stepping inside his guard yet again. “I’m afraid you fail to understand what I’m saying.”

“To be fair, I’m still not sure what this is about.”

“Did you think no one would notice that Equestria cut trade with Saddle Arabia by more than thirty percent overnight?” Aster’s stillness cracked for a split second as he produced a sheaf of papers from his jacket. He flipped open his dossier and pressed his hoof to the first line. “For cultural reasons which have recently come to light.” Aster snorted. “And what ’cultural reason’ would that be?”

Blueblood swallowed hard and pushed the papers out of his face. “The ‘cultural reason’ that you deem so insignificant is the Caliph’s personal slave, Aster! That wasn’t disclosed to me when I started my tenure here, and it's frankly disgraceful that my predecessor didn’t mention it!”

“A slave by right of justice.” Aster’s eyes were dark and flinty. “Does Equestria not have prisons? Does she not have criminals of her own?”

“We don’t make them slaves!”

“You lock them away. We put them to work. The outcome is the same.” The horse shrugged his shoulders. “Our nations need not see eye to eye on every issue.”

“The issue you’re talking about is slavery.” Blueblood’s voice was a low snarl. “That’s not something I negotiate on.”

“My prince,” Aster sighed, rolling his eyes. “Do you not understand what you’re doing? Our Caliph is fighting for his life. Cutting trade at a time like this is putting more stress on him during his time of need.” His tone dripped concern like honey. “It is not your job to judge my people. Nor is it our job to judge yours. We are here to foster harmony, are we not?”

Blueblood was silent. He was beginning to loathe the taste of the word harmony.

“We’re here to build bridges together. From your culture to mine, and my culture to yours.” Aster smiled. Blueblood could feel the force it took for him to turn up the corners of his mouth. “And we cannot do that while we’re wasting our time judging each other. So let's leave this argument behind us. Write home. Tell your Sun Queen to resume trade as usual. Let us move forward into a golden age of love, cooperation, and harmony together.”

Blueblood heard Sandalwood’s voice echo through those last words. He inhaled slowly. “And if I don’t?”

“My prince,” Aster swallowed and held his gaze. “I feel you don’t understand me. I am your liaison, yes, but I am also a servant of the Caliph. There are many doors in this city which you cannot open.” The corner of his mouth twitched. That ghost of a grin was too genuine to ignore. “And there are just as many that can be closed to you.”

“Are you threatening me?” The prince raised an eyebrow.

“Call it a warding,” Aster said coldly. “You’ve enjoyed a lot of freedom in Sutaf, prince. You’ve left the palace without protection several times, have you not? Ventured as far as the Equestrian district, I’ve heard. But if our countries were to have some sort of impasse—”

“You are threatening me.”

“I’m simply saying that perhaps you would need to be protected.” The liaison shrugged with a self-satisfied grin.

“Protected in a way that would restrict my movement.”

“But protected nonetheless.”

“Protected in a way that would impede my duty to investigate the Caliph’s assassin.”

“The power is in your hooves, my prince.” Aster exhaled and disengaged from Blueblood’s guard, brushing his mane to one side. “I do not want to do this to you. My job is to ensure that you are integrated smoothly into our culture, but above that is my duty to the Caliph.” He put a hoof on Blueblood’s shoulder, patting it gently. Condecension shone in his eyes. “The Duke has come to ponies with plans before, Indigo. His designs are not wise, and I counsel you to ignore them.”

Blueblood said nothing. Aster knew too much already. Any word out of his mouth would just confirm their truth.

“Know this, my prince. Saddle Arabia is to be ruled by horses. The Caliph will reign until his death and I will ensure his son succeeds him, by any means necessary. Am I clear?” Aster lowered his eyes. He exhaled harshly when he received no reply. “Write the letter tonight.”

“I’ll consider it.” Blueblood brushed his hoof away. “Right now, I really need to rest.”

“Goodnight, my prince. Sleep well.”

*****

Trixie found that her nerves made it impossible for her to sleep. She had laid in bed and flip-flopped from one end to the other before giving up. Even though she had just criticized Blueblood for his restlessness, Trixie declined to follow her own advice. Kicking the blankets off, she decided that burning off some energy would do her good. What better way than to practice a bit of magic?

Moving to the center of the kitchen, Trixie checked to make sure she wasn’t standing near anything flammable and ignited her horn. She pressed her eyes shut and tried to picture the gardens below. She could see it all in her mind's eye—the pond where the koi swam in lazy rings, the willow trees sharing the water, the soft tufts of grass under her hooves. She felt it in the very marrow of her being. Exhaling slowly, Trixie cast her spell and blinked out of reality.

When she opened her eyes, she was not in the garden. In fact, she wasn’t even close. Trixie stood in the Kitchen surrounded by jackals in smudgy smocks who stared at her in shock.

“Whoops! Sorry!” She flashed a smile and slung the spell again.

This time, she found herself not in the garden, but in the bedroom of a diplomat from the Buffalo Tribes. He yelped and staggered backward, his huge bulk nearly crushing his dresser to splinters.

“Sorry! Third time’s the charm!”

Before the buffalo could question what she meant, Trixie vanished again.

At last, she could smell the fresh fragrance of the gardens. She wasn’t anywhere near the koi pond she had been aiming for, instead landing face first in a flowerbed and crushing countless lilacs under her body. Rising and spitting petals, Trixie congratulated herself on a job well done. Three times to get vaguely where she was going was a good record for her! And this time she hadn't set her coat on fire! Though she still smelled like smoke. Bounding out of the flowerbeds, Trixie decided to take a moonlit stroll.

She passed through a statue garden full of abstract designs, under arches of greenery, and through a grove of olive trees. The gardens were all but deserted at this time of night. Trixie saw only one groundskeeper, an ill tempered old camel who muttered to himself as he dug out space for new saplings. It felt oddly peaceful, considering how close the country was to a crisis. Trixie supposed she was standing in the calm before the storm. But at least the calm was beautiful.

After some time wandering, Trixie found herself approaching the koi pond she had actually been aiming for. The air was tangy with the aroma of lemon trees as Trixie brushed aside a screen of willow branches and took a seat on a bench. Stretching her back and yawning, Trixie almost felt she could sleep right here. Everything felt cool and lovely and quiet for a change.

Too quiet.

Something heavy and ancient blanketed the garden. The rhythmic whorl of the koi in the pond ceased suddenly as they dove deeper into the depths. Trixie felt her coat stand on end as the smell of lightning mingled with the citrus. The wind changed abruptly—switching its course from east to west in the span of seconds. Leaves whirled around her hooves in invisible eddies as the footprints of something unfathomable approached her. It smelled like a temple. Trixie’s nostrils twitched at the odor of incense and woodsmoke and dark, holy blood. The waters of the pond roiled in anticipation. The grasses knelt low to a higher power.

Trixie knew she ought to run.

She didn’t.

Fingers came to rest upon her shoulder. Another hand gripped her hoof like a handshake. A weight pressed against her body in an embrace that was somewhere between loving and threatening.

“How long will you deny me?” The voice was a hot, dry whisper. The voice of someone crying out in thirst in a desert.

“What are you?” Trixie replied, her own words sounding hoarse and uncertain. “What do you want?”

“I am River-That-Cuts-The-Canyon.” The hands which held Trixie seemed to melt away. “Will you not give your name?”

“No.” Trixie squirmed away. She tried to prepare a defensive spell, but how could she defend against something she couldn’t see? “I know how those stories end. I’m not stupid.”

“As sure as the sun rises, you will give up your name.”

“What makes you so sure?” Trixie glanced from right to left, trying to find something she could latch on to as real.

“You will need me in the days to come. You will have no choice but to embrace me. Though you may not always feel me, I am always here. Call my name, and I will come.”

“You’re lying.”

And just like that, the fog lifted. Trixie felt weightless as the heaviness of the djinn’s presence vanished. She clung to the trunk of the willow tree, panting for air. Her back and forehead were slick with sweat. Trixie had to get out of there. She thrust aside the curtain of willow leaves and dashed off into the nearby lemon grove. She stumbled over the fallen fruit and pressed her back to one of the trees, sliding into a sitting position as she fought to catch her breath.

A lemon fell from the branches and bounced off her head. Trixie ignored it.

Then another dropped into her lap.

And at last, a third landed square on her horn and impaled itself there. Lemon juice squirted down onto her cheeks and made her yelp. A high, childish squeak of laughter resounded from the upper branches, and Trixie threw her gaze high.

“Hi, Miss Briar!” Cedar clung to a branch with both hooves. He levitated a lemon with his magic and hurled it down at her. “Catch!”

Trixie caught the flung fruit and breathed a sigh of relief. “Cedar, what are you doing up there? And what are you doing out this late?!”

“You sound like my nanny.” He stuck out his tongue and blew raspberries.

Trixie blew one back as she pried the lemon off her horn. “Well, unlike your nanny, Briar isn’t going to turn you in to the palace guards.”

The emir hopped down from the tree and landed with a thump. He brushed leaves out of his mane and smiled up at Trixie. “So, whatcha’ doin’?”

“Just taking a walk.” She plucked a few twigs he had missed out of his hair. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.” Cedar huffed and set his mouth. “The nurses wouldn’t let me in to see my dad tonight. I wanted to show him the new spell I was working on, but they said he’s sleeping.” The little horse sniffed and wiped his nose. “He’s been sleeping for three days now. Or at least he seems to be every time I ask the nurses. Maybe he'll be better tomorrow?”

Trixie bit her tongue. She couldn’t break the news that his father wasn’t going to get well. Thinking quickly, she changed the subject. “Well, why don’t you show it to me? So long as you’re not going to set the garden on fire!”

“Promise I won’t!” Cedar crossed a hoof over his heart. “I’ve been practicing!”

Cedar stood and squared his shoulders, set his eyes, and took a deep breath. Trixie took a step back, then took two more just in case. The golden band around Cedar’s foreleg glowed deep amber as a small flame began to dance on the tip of his hoof.

“I saw one of the magi in University Square do this!” Cedar grinned as he made the fire slowly spiral upward and taper into a thin wire of brilliant orange. “Here! Hold one of the lemons for me!”

Trixie winced. She didn’t like where this was going. “You’re sure you’ve got it under control?”

“I’m sure! I’ve done it fifty times now!”

Trixie levitated a fruit with her magic, keeping it well away from her body as a precaution.

The Emir suddenly slashed with his fiery whip, cracking it loudly as he sliced through the lemon as smoothly as if it were butter. Trixie had to admit she was impressed. She would have been even more impressed if the whip didn’t burst into sputtering flame the second it hit the dirt. Trixie leapt back as the fire narrowly avoided scorching her coat. Cedar stumbled backward and landed on his rump, shielding his face with his hooves as he rolled in the dust.

Thinking quickly, Trixie tapped her magical reserves and countered the blaze with a minor frost spell. The story she usually used to cool off soup that scalded her tongue. Frigid icicles formed on the brim of her hat as crackling ice hit the flames and left only a damp, splotch of blackened mud. She clutched a hoof to her chest and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Was it uh,” Trixie brushed the chill from her hat. “Was it supposed to do that?”

“No.” Cedar coughed as he fanned away smoke. “I don’t get it! It worked so well a few days ago but now it just explodes!”

He stomped to a flat rock and sat on the edge, huffing and crossing his arms. Trixie worked her mouth as she came to stand alongside him, unsure of what to say.

“My tutor says that I shouldn’t be doing magic while Dad is sick.” He sniffed and stared at the ground. “She says that when my mind isn’t in the right place my magic is gonna be unstable.”

“I’m… Not exactly familiar with how Sarabic magic works.” Trixie admitted sheepishly. “Is it usually so... unstable when you get upset?”

The Emir shrugged. “Magic is in the memories. That’s what all my tutors tell me. You ponies have horns for magic, but we need something to focus on. My dad always had a little game piece in his sleeve to channel his magic. He told me that when he was my age, he got really good at board games, and kept the winning piece from the best match he ever played. So anytime he would cast a spell, he thought about that game.”

“And you use your armband, right?” Trixie said, reaching out to prod it.

“Yeah. At least until I find a stronger memory.” He nodded.

Trixie’s mind started to work. “Here, let’s try that spell again.”

She took him by the hoof and gently led him back to the center of the lemon grove. Still pouting, Cedar let his band glow and recreated the long, quivering lash of flame. He held it in the air and watched it intently, unable to take his eyes off of it.

“Okay, doing great!” Trixie said as she took another few steps away. “Now, what memory are you focusing on?”

“Huh?”

“You said ‘magic is in the memories’ right? So, what memory is on your mind?”

“I uh,” Cedar blushed sheepishly. “I was thinking about my armband. I got for my birthday last year.”

“Who gave it to you?”

“My dad.” There was a pause as Cedar as the connection formed. “You think that’s why—”

“If the memory becomes bittersweet, so does the magic.” Trixie grinned ear to ear. “Well, I assume so anyway. I only just learned about it two minutes ago.”

“But it makes sense, right?” Cedar’s magic flickered slightly. “Okay, lemme try thinking of a different memory.”

He pursed his lips and closed his eyes. A small smile graced his lips as he nodded. “Alright. I’ve got one. This time, nothing can make it bad.”

“Okay.” Trixie sucked in a breath and lifted an unburned lemon from the grass. “I’ve got the lemon. Let’s try it again.”

Cedar breathed in, breathed out, and swung the magic in a swift arc. Fire sliced through the lemon and filled the air with the scent of scorched fruit. This time, however, the whip didn’t shatter against the dirt. It swung back, and Cedar lashed it again. Then again. And again. By the time the lemon touched the ground, it had been neatly chopped into quarters that steamed and sizzled. The fire went out with a faint hiss as Cedar whooped and leapt into the air. He screamed out loud, galloped in a wide circle, then threw himself at Trixie. She caught him and stumbled back, crushing him in a tight hug before setting him down.

“I did it! I did it! I did it!” Cedar couldn’t stand still. He jumped and kicked and spun, eyes wild and sparkling. “Thank you, Miss Briar!”

“It was nothing! A Great and Powerful Magus like myself can understand any magic in mere minutes of course.” She smirked, head held high. “But I’m glad I could help! Glad you found a new memory to power it!”

“Yeah! I just thought about a really old one!” The little horse bounded circles around her and skidded to a shaky stop. “I remember how my mom used to sing me lullabies before bed, and that worked!”

Trixie’s excitement wavered slightly. “Your mom?”

“I can’t wait to show my dad!” Cedar bounced excitedly, either ignoring the question or not hearing it. Trixie’s heart ached for the kid. She considered telling him—Breaking the news to try and soften the inevitable blow.

Thankfully she didn’t have to.

“Emir Cedar!” A stern looking black horse with a white snip on her muzzle approached from a nearby set of hedges. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Get back to your bedroom this instant!”

“Uh oh.” Cedar swallowed hard. “I’m in trouble.”

“You want me to take the heat?” Trixie offered in a hushed tone.

“Nah. I’ll be fine.” The Emir smiled up at her. “Goodnight, Miss Briar!”

“Goodnight, Cedar!”

The colt galloped off to greet his caretaker, who took him roughly by the hoof and nearly dragged him through the garden. Trixie waited until he had vanished around a bend in the trail before she lit up her horn. It was past her bedtime as well.

Her first attempt at teleporting back to her bedroom took her to the koi pond. Sure, as soon as she wasn’t trying to reach it, her magic took her there. Great.

Trixie tried again and found herself smack in the middle of the empty ballroom where the Ordainment Ball had been held. A lonesome horse was mopping the floor, glaring at her as she stood right on the wet floor he had just finished. He muttered a complaint in Sarabic before she blinked away. C’mon, the third time is the charm!

The third time she found herself back in the right wing of the palace, but in the library rather than her room. Huffing, she figured this was the best she was going to get. As she headed towards the exit, Trixie paused as she noticed a pair of books resting on a table. The first was a comic book for children, Amazing Heroes #1 The Prophet Arfaj! Evidently, River had adjusted to her reading level. The other book, however, lay open. Trixie’s horn glowed softly to illuminate the page.

The Prophet Arfaj and the Binding of the Djinn stared back at her. The book was a collection of pieces from the Modern Art Museum, and although the print didn’t convey the sheer sense of scale seeing it in person had, it inspired the same cold, eldritch dread in the back of her brain. Trixie sucked her teeth and tucked it under her foreleg.

A question rattled about in Trixie’s mind. Why put so much effort into teaching her the story of a Djinn losing? Arfaj had bound the Djinn and channeled their magic. Why dangle that tale in front of a pony they intended to possess?

Unless they wanted her to make the attempt.

River was setting her up to fail.

Fine. If that was the game they wanted to play, let them. They still needed her name, and she would never, ever give it up.

She passed Aster in the hallway, though he didn’t deign to regard her with so much as a glance. Trixie harrumphed as she approached the door to their room and shoved it open.

Blueblood sat on the edge of the bed, looking defeated. Trixie tossed the books down onto the table and flopped lazily into the center of the bed, her mane splayed out behind her like a halo.

“How did talking with Aster go?”

“Poorly.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Trixie puffed and blew a strand of her mane out of her face.

“Where were you?” Blueblood laid back slowly, ensuring that not a strand of his hair ended up out of place.

“Took a walk in the garden. Needed some fresh air.”

“Fair enough.”

They were silent for some time. Both too tired to speak yet too awake to sleep. Blueblood sighed.

“Have you thought about what happens if we fail?”

Trixie didn’t reply for a bit, letting the wheels in her mind turn. “We go back to Equestria, don’t we?”

“But what happens here?” Blueblood groaned. “Does Fairweather just take everything over? Does the country just dissolve into infighting?”

“I don’t know.” Trixie sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“Neither do I.” The prince rolled over, sitting up in bed and rubbing the back of his head. “But I have a feeling we’re going to have to start.”

He slowly drifted from the bed and crossed the room. Blueblood stood by the table and gently rapped a hoof on the book Aster had provided them. There had to be something they were missing. Some piece of the puzzle they had overlooked. He looked at the book once more and cracked it open. Maybe there was some insight he had passed over? He really didn't want to read the entire thing over again. The glue in the spine crackled softly as he flipped through the—

The glue.

“Briar,” Blueblood’s voice shook. It couldn’t have been this obvious. “When you got the guest lists for the parties, did you get the staff listings too?”

“Yeah, why?” Trixie rolled onto her side and raised an eyebrow.

Blueblood whispered something under his breath as he dug through their scattered papers to find it. Sure enough, the guest list also included the staff assignments for the night.

“We’ve been going about this all wrong.” Blueblood pinned the guest list to the wall and dragged out the red thread. “We got so focused on Fairweather and the Caliph that we didn’t even consider one of the palace staff as a traitor.”

He levitated a pencil from the table and circled a name on each of the staff listings. “Aster was on the staff for both events as a dinner coordinator. He would have had access to both Alabaster and the Caliph's wine goblets.”

Trixie’s eyes glinted like daggers in the dark as she sprang from the bed. Blueblood passed her the string and she raced across the room and pinned it to the cover of the book he had given her. “Aster is from a family of bookkeepers, and bound this book for us.”

“Which means,” The prince raced to her side, used his magic to tear open the spine, and extract several globules of hardened glue. “If this matches the adhesive that Marshmallow found in the Caliph’s goblet—”

“Then it would tie Aster to the assassination attempt!” Trixie clapped her hooves together. “But… Then what’s the motive?”

Blueblood had to pause at that. What would give the Caliph’s most loyal servant reason to murder him? He started to mentally replay their conversation and his eyes were opened.

“When I spoke to him tonight, he seemed aware of Fairweather’s plot.” Blueblood gestured with a hoof as he paced back and forth. “And he hinted that Fairweather had tried this before, back when Alabaster was the diplomat.”

Blueblood rummaged through his papers until he found Fairweather’s letter to Alabaster. Slapping it down on the table, he stuck a pin in it and connected the thread.

“Alabaster got cold hooves, it was too late. Aster had already made his move. Even he had to see that Sandalwood wasn’t going to last long. When we met him he was already sick with fever and barely able to walk. If he knew that Fairweather was already plotting against the Caliph—”

He stopped suddenly. His eyes went wide with realization.

“Briar, tonight he told me he would see the Caliph’s son on the throne, by any means necessary.”

“He wanted to speed things along.” Trixie’s eyes shared the glare of his. “Aster wanted to make sure that Fairweather didn’t get the chance.”

“At first he assumed killing Alabaster would be enough. Killing Fairweather's prospective Caliph should have been the end of things. And for four months, it was. But our arrival threw a wrench in his plans. Aster needed to make sure that his next move would stop Fairweather for good. He needed to ensure the power was transferred to Cedar before Fairweather’s plan went through. If he could get Cedar on the throne and assign a proper Sarab mentor, then he’d have outplayed Fairweather and ruined his chances of getting a pony as the power behind the throne.” Blueblood recalled something else Aster had mentioned. “Saddle Arabia is to be ruled by horses.”

“In the morning, we need to—” Trixie began, only for Blueblood to grab her by the hoof and drag her towards the door. “Hey! Blueblood! It’s two in the morning!”

“We need to get to Marshmallow now!” He said as he threw open the door and dragged her along. “I don’t care if I have to drag them to the lab myself! They need to test this adhesive immediately! This is it, Briar! This is the break in the case we’ve been waiting for!”

“Can we at least slow down a little?” Trixie yelped as he whipped her around a corner.

“No time! To the medical campus!”