“Mail call!”
Pixelbright's ears turned up and she smiled, looking up from her workbench. The door to the workshop opened as a green unicorn pushed partway through, holding an envelope floating before him. “Letter for one Picture E. Bright," he said pronouncing her full name in an officious tone, "astounding genius and...” he frowned, inspecting the letter closely, “...most beautiful unicorn in Orangeblossom Valley.”
“Oh, dad...” Pixelbright set down the tools she'd been levitating and took the letter from her father, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks.”
Her father looked past her to inspect the workshop. “How's it going?”
“Oh, okay,” Pixelbright said, shouldering him gently out the door and into the open air, the letter floating beside her. She closed the door gently but firmly on his former workshop. “There's a lot of fundamental problems to tackle, but I'm really getting good results from the experiments.” She looked back at the workshop, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“Ah...I know that look,” her father grinned. “You were right, weren't you?”
“Yep!” The orange unicorn smiled. “The grating will work. I've got a little patch that shows a bit of the dispersion I was talking about. The colors aren't clear, but I think it may be because they're clustering.”
“Did you try duplicating raindrops?”
“Well, yes, and the idea is sound, but I really want to follow this through all the way before looking at other possibilities.”
“That's why you're the future famous inventor and I'm the stallion who gave his daughter his old tinkering hut! I always had to chase after the latest idea.”
Pixelbright stopped to look back at the workshop—her workshop, now. It was her father, mane and tail. From the little windmill at the top to the brass plating around the base; from the row of smokestacks at one end, each a different design, to the banks of solar crystals in the converted woodshed at the other, it showed the undeniable urge to tinker that sometimes drove her mother and his would-be benefactors to distraction.
But it showed other things about her father too: there was a little garden, lovingly tended and with at least something in bloom year round; there was an orange tree shading the workshop from which hung a swing he'd built for her; there was the door into which he'd cut a smaller, lower door just for her, and there was the round window of stained glass which showed not his cutie mark but her mother's intricate white snowflake. “I guess so,” she allowed, with a smile. “Thanks again, Dad.”
She finally looked at the letter herself. “Oh! It's a response from the weather engineers at...” she frowned a little, looking more closely. There was a moment of incomprehension, then she broke into a grin. “In Cloudsdale! The headsmare herself!” She bounced on her hooves a little. “No wonder it took so long to get a response. I thought maybe it got lost or the answer was no or...” she took a deep breath and steadied herself. “Well, I'd better read this right away and pen a response,” she continued, in a somewhat more level tone. “The headsmare of the Cloudsdale weather factory!” She looked up at her father, who nodded, smiling, and then trotted quickly into the house.
The Bright family house also showed her father's eclectic methodology, strongly tempered by the organizing influence of her mother. A fat tower that bulged slightly outward in the middle, made of stone and covered in stucco, it was white, with a bright rainbow swirl along the outside which had been added by a much younger Pixelbright. Rooms projected out from the base of the tower, like buttresses supporting it, and it was topped with a red tile roof. The windows were round, many of them stained glass, and the doors were arch-topped. From one side, a separate tower rose up. Her mother called it her “thinking room”, her father called it “the nummerery”, but as Pixelbright could never pronounce that she called it “the other tower.” Her mother, Lovelylace, was up there now, wrestling with some mathematical leviathan sent to her by one of her many friends, probably staring out the window before turning to furiously write out the next step of a problem or proof.
It made Pixelbright smile to think of it. Her mother corresponded with some of the greatest thinkers in Equestria and even beyond, and now she herself would be doing the same! Oh sure, she'd long had pen-pals who liked to think and tinker and work on problems together, but receiving a letter from the foremare of Equestria's central weather factory was something else entirely!
In her own room, she got out her writing supplies, then opened the letter with her magic, noting with delight the pegasus seal on the envelope. It shimmered with what looked like actual rainbow added to the wax, and she lifted it as gently from the envelope as she could, setting it neatly on a shelf to be properly displayed later. Her heart was beating so fast, it sounded like someone galloping up and down the stairs, and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and counting to ten before reading.
Ms. Picture Bright,
Good day to you! My name is Sunmane. I am the managing director of operations here at the Cloudsdale Weather Factory, and I am writing in regard to your letter of last month to Ms. Spectra Shine, manager of the cloud distillery at New Saddle. I must thank you for granting me the rare pleasure of a personal visit from Ms. Shine! Your insightful questions regarding how rainbows are processed and what this might reveal about the origin of the beautiful colors of the world so captivated her interest that she felt compelled to share them with me.
Ms. Shine, who, as you are clearly aware from your letter, is one of the leading scholars of atmospheric precipitation and related phenomenon, also felt it necessary to check the original source material here at Cloudsdale to ensure she had the absolutely correct responses to your enquiries. The subject is one of her greatest loves, and it gave me great pleasure to see the enthusiasm with which she has gone about collecting the information. Her answers will be arriving shortly, and I've no doubt a pony of your curiosity will be pleased by the volumes of reference material, notes, annotations, and original research she is collecting to send you!
I also was quite impressed with your letter. It is not often that we in the weather business receive questions which challenge our minds and start us thinking in new ways about the subject which is so dear to our hearts. By way of thanks, I would like to extend an open invitation to you to visit the central rainbow refinery here in Cloudsdale. I would be more than pleased to give you a personal tour and I know my staff would also be delighted to answer any further questions you may have. Please feel free to write me at any time should you wish to arrange your visit, or if you have any questions about weather operations whatsoever.
You have a rare gift for enquiry and a keen eye. I encourage you to cherish and nurture these gifts, and I look forward to seeing what magic of your own you will bring to Equestria.
Good winds and gentle rains,
Dr. Sunmane, PhD.
Pixelbright sat down heavily. Ms. Shine had liked her letter! Liked it so much she was not only going to answer her questions, but was collecting information on the subject to send her. Not only was Pixelbright going to get answers to the questions she'd asked, she was going to get enough material to be able to answer the thousand other questions those answers would raise! Original research! She read it again. Original!
And...and...Dr. Sunmane, the Dr. Sunmane, foremare of Cloudsdale Weather Factory, had thought her questions...insightful! A personal tour! Questions for the staff! It was almost too much for her. She had to calm down, contain herself. It was...it was...
It was too much! The orange unicorn burst from her room, shouting in glee, and hopped down the spiraling stairs at a dangerous speed. Her mother poked her head out of the door that led to the other tower. “Picture?” The powder-blue unicorn asked, gentle concern in her voice.
Pixelbright stopped, turning around. She jumped up and down a little with excitement. “Oh, mom, it's great, you know how I wrote to the cloud distillery up in New Saddle and asked them about rainbow refinery because Spectra Shine who works there is an expert on raindrops and I thought she might know about rainbows because dad suggested I try to duplicate the effects of raindrops to see how color worked and....” she took a deep breath. Her mother was smiling indulgently at her. She realized she was babbling. “Well, it was in line with the experiments I was running at the time. As it happens, Ms. Shine is a friend of Dr. Sunmane, who is the foremare of the Cloudsdale Weather Factory, and she shared my questions with the Doctor—who invited me to Cloudsdale for a personal tour! And Ms. Shine is going to send me original research about my questions!” Her voice rose into a delighted squeal despite her best efforts.
“That's wonderful, darling,” Lovelylace said with a smile.
She looked down at Mr. Bright, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs, and the two of them shared a grin. “I knew it!” He said, proudly. “That's my girl!”
“Oh! I have to tell Peppermint!” She looked back at her dad, feeling her body trembling with energy. It felt like she was a pegasus with wings made of pure excitement attached to her heart, threatening to lift her right off the stairs and send her shooting out of the house at any moment. Her father nodded slightly, and she took off, barely noticing that she was running until she was well down the road to town.
She slowed to a trot, though it was harder to keep the huge grin from stretching her muzzle. She was acting like a foal, but it really was exciting. The sun streamed down, bright and warm as usual for Orangeblossom Valley, and a cool breeze came in from the ocean beyond the town. Birds sang in the orange and almond trees along the road, a pair of playful greenjays following her as she moved along. Everything seemed to be in harmony with her feelings, so what harm in enjoying herself? Even the creak of the windmills echoing down from the hills sounded cheerful.
At the crossroads, she turned north toward one particular windmill, pausing to curtsy to the guardpony in his shack, who bowed back.
The mill, like many others, was located atop one of the many hills that ran alongside Orangeblosom Valley. Steady winds from the sea kept it going year round, and it was creaking and rumbling pleasantly as it worked. Pixelbright arrived just as a small, dun-colored earth pony stallion with a long, wild red mane emerged, straining at an overloaded cart full of flour from the mill. Pixelbright waited until he took a break, the stallion panting and sweating heavily. “Hi, Soul Patch.”
“Oh, hey, Pixelbright,” he panted. The red fur on his chin that was the source of his moniker gave a devilish, almost mischievous cast to his easy grin. Despite his short stature, his voice was a deep, pleasant rumble. “Here to see Peppermint?”
“Yeah, I have some great news about our project!” She struggled with the urge to either run past Soul Patch into the mill or hug him out of sheer bubbling joy. “Um, how are you?”
Soul Patch blinked his heavy-lidded eyes slowly, and his smile widened just a little. “Heated in the forge of labor and shaped by the hammer of repetition. Your beaming smile is just the quench I need to complete the process. Thank you.”
Pixelbright giggled. She couldn't help it. Soul Patch was not the best worker, but for some reason Ms. Tea kept him around, and Pixelbright was glad. His occasional bolt-from-the-blue comments never failed to make her smile.
“Good to hear it,” she said, and then looked past him, at the open door of the mill. “Umm...”
“Oh, you have need to pass?” The stallion asked in his mellow basso. “Allow me to draw aside the obstacle which impedes your progress, my fair young lady.” He set to, pulling at the cart, which began to slowly, slowly inch aside. When there was just enough room, Pixelbright thanked him and the stallion gratefully took another rest as she went by.
As usual, Ms. Tea and her daughter Peppermint were working inside the mill, amid the rumble of the stones and the glinting drift of flour. Ms. Tea was supervising a small group of earth ponies who were unloading a cart of grain. Ms. Tea, a unicorn of dusty rose coat and violet mane, was using her magic to sort the sacks into separate piles, while talking to the workers, the words lost in the rumble of the mill. She saw Pixelbright and waved, saying something which was drowned out, and Pixelbright waved back.
Peppermint was in her usual spot off to one side of the main activity. The mint-green unicorn was using her magic to work with several sets of tools at once, performing simultaneous repairs on a number of parts for the Tea family mill and those of several neighbors. The air around her shimmered with magic that kept the flour drifting around clear of her work area.
Pixelbright waited out of sight behind her friend, who hated having her concentration broken when she was in the middle of a job—or several jobs, as the case usually was. Standing close, Pixelbright could hear her friend singing something in time with her work, probably writing a new melody. Peppermint's white mane bounced back and forth in time with the song, its pink stripes catching the sun. Pixelbright had always been a little jealous of her friend's mane, which was not only beautiful but seemed to hold intricate braids so easily. She reached up, touching her own deep strawberry mane in its simple cut, and sighed a little.
Peppermint's ear turned back toward her, and after a few moments she set the tools down, using her magic to pick one part to inspect it, carefully turning it end over end, then side-to-side. She did a bit of touch-up work with a chisel, then floated it over into a pair of saddlebags nearby. “Okay.” She turned to look at Pixelbright. “What's going on?”
In answer, and because she knew the other unicorn would want to see it anyway, Pixelbright floated the letter over. Peppermint took it with her magic, studied it carefully, then unfolded it, turning away again to read. When she was done, Peppermint used her magic to fold the letter back up and floated it over the Pixelbright again. She looked at Pixelbright seriously for a moment. “Wow.”
“Yeah. Wow.”
Peppermint picked up the bags she'd put the parts into. “Well, I've got to deliver these to the Harts.” The Harts had a great big mill-and-loom complex down near the mouth of the river, a long walk from here.
Pixelbright stepped forward, picking up a plainer set of extra saddlebags from nearby, and levitated some of the load into them. “I'll come with you.”
“Thanks.” They headed out into the bright sunlight, leaving behind the grinding rumble of the mill for the birdsong and blossom-scented breeze of the valley. A little ways down the road, Peppermint spoke. “So obviously you're going to Cloudsdale. Did your folks say it was okay?”
“Not as such, but--”
“Well, I don't think it's going to be a problem. Your parents love your work.”
Pixelbright missed the subtle emphasis. “Oh, you're right,” she said, almost in relief. “You should come too! We're working on this together, after all.”
Peppermint was silent for a moment. “Do you know how they'll manage it? I mean, you're a unicorn.”
“I guess there's magic?”
“Well, they can't use a balloon. How would you get into the factories? You want to look at everything up close.”
“You're right. We should talk to my dad about it. He's done research into all kinds of crazy magic. If he doesn't know, he'll know someone who will. But they wouldn't invite us if there wasn't a way, right? I'm sure Dr. Sunmane hosts important earth ponies and unicorns all the time.” And now us! Her heart started racing again at the thought. “I can't believe we get to go. Oh, I know you're going to love seeing the condensation chambers up close. Oh, and what about your linkages? And that system you developed for sorting by weight? They'll love those.”
“I don't know. I'm sure they have pegasi who can come up with things like that, or better.”
“But nopony as good at as my Peppermint!” Pixelbright playfully bumped the other unicorn, who grunted uncertainly, but bumped back twice as hard.
They walked on, discussing possibilities for the Cloudsdale tour, which led naturally into how things were done there and then into Peppermints many recent ideas, most of them for new devices she had already developed working models of. Soon they could see the Hart complex, and Peppermint remembered the question she'd meant to ask back at the mill. “So how did the strainer work?”
“Okay, I guess. The early results show the idea is right. But it's not separating out the colors the way I really want.”
“Think it has to be finer?”
“Exactly. There's no way I can do it by hoof. I have to use magic, and it's going to take forever even then. Plus I want to try different sizes so I can make a proper record of the effects, just to see if it is the size of the grating that's doing it, and maybe get some idea how. Then I'd like to try different patterns, too, to see if I the colors always separate the same way or if it's possible to mix them, because I want to see what the different mixes do.”
“Hmm.” Peppermint nodded, thinking.
“Hey Peppermint! Pixelbright!” The shout came from the right, in the large grove of fruit trees the Harts kept on their land. Trotting out onto the bridge that marked the edge of the Hart's property was Ace, the Hart's son. His white coat sparkled with sweat, his red-and-black mane was tousled, and he carried a full basket of fruit and nuts on either flank. He trotted out to meet the two younger mares. “How you fillies doing? Great day, huh?”
“Hey there, Ace,” Peppermint replied. “It's not bad, I guess. I see you're working the orchard?”
“Every day for the last two weeks. Winter's going to be longer than usual this year, so I've been out here from dusk to dawn, then spending the night making preserves.” He yawned for effect.
Peppermint stepped closer, peering into the baskets full of apples, orange, almonds, and others. “That's a lot of work for one stallion. Did you get in trouble again?”
Ace, turning his head to watch her, only smiled slyly in reply. “Well, it's not so bad, thanks to the bucking shoes somepony made me last fall.” He lifted one hind leg proudly, showing the boot-like shoes, weighted and padded to add extra force to a kick and absorb the shock. Peppermint immediately bent to inspect her work.
“I knew these joins would hold, but it looks like the part around the cannon is wearing out faster than I thought. Of course, I guess with you, I shouldn't be surprised.” She tightened several straps with her magic, and then looked back up at Ace. “If you ever get free, I want to make some improvements to these. I think they need some support around the fetlock joint, and I can tighten up a few seams just to be sure. I could refresh the weatherproofing as well.”
“Alright. I'll see you when I get out.” Ace looked toward the complex and muttered, “If they ever let me out. Thanks again.”
“Sure,” Peppermint said, hurriedly. “See you then.” She trotted off to join Pixelbright, who was waiting for her at the end of the bridge.
The two said nothing for a little while on the road. Behind them, they heard Ace start laying into the trees again, powerful thuds echoing through the orchard. Peppermint turned her head to look back in the stallions direction, and Pixelbright grinned mischievously. She opened her mouth to say something.
“Quiet you,” Peppermint said, without even looking over. Pixelbright complied, but the smug smile stayed on her face until they reached the loom building.
“Peppermint! And Pixelbright.” Mr. Hart paused in his work, as did most of the other ponies working in the shop. The offered friendly smiles or tosses of the head before returning to their weaving. The white stallion stopped what he was doing and met them at the huge open doors of the barn-like building. “Always a pleasure. Here, let me...”
He took the saddlebags from Peppermint and handed them to his son, Sawbuck, who was clearly filling in for his older brother as chief assistant and looking a bit harried by the task. The colt trotted off, straining to hold the bags full of parts which his solidly-built father had lifted so easily.
“Thank you very much, and please pass my thanks on your mother as well. You always do top-quality work, and we'd be in a sore saddle without you.” Peppermint nodded, and he turned his attention to Pixelbright. “Pixel! We don't see you here often enough. Maiorana and I were talking just last night about how nice it would be to have you and your parents over for dinner before the Summer Sun Celebration like we did last year. Would you be interested?”
“I'll ask my parents, Mr. Hart. Thank you.”
The earth pony laughed, tossing his red mane, which was shot through with a pair of broad gold stripes in exactly the place his oldest son had black. “I keep telling you, Mr. Hart is my father! Please, I insist that you call me Jack.”
The orange unicorn blushed a little at having forgotten, again. She smiled sheepishly. “Okay, Jack.”
“Much better,” Jack said, and looked over as his next-oldest returned. “Now, Peppermint, Ace told me you had an idea about using stream power for looms?” He spoke with his mouth full, signing off on a list Sawbuck was holding up for him.
“That's right. I've been working on some new linkages, and I think they're at the point where they need to be tested.”
“That's just what Ace said you'd say. He—no, Sawbuck, stay here for just a moment—he asked if we could give you something to help with the project. He made a pretty convincing argument.” He looked toward the distant orchards with a small smile. “If you've got the time to spare, I can show you and you can tell me if you're interested.”
“That'd be great, thank you.” Peppermint answered, curtsying slightly.
They went through the loom building, Jack stopping once to check on a bolt of fabric one of the new workers was producing, eying it closely and giving an affirmative nod and a compliment to the yellow filly. They reached the back, where, beyond a heavy wooden door and down a set of stone steps, they entered a cool, dark stone room braced with heavy timbers. At a word from Jack, Sawbuck went to open a door at the far end, revealing a broad ramp leading up out of a storm cellar lined with shelves full of preserves and corners full of old, disused equipment. Jack went to one of these, a large upright piece covered with a tarp. “Voila!” He said, and pulled the tarp aside with a dramatic flourish. A cloud of dust filled the air, causing everyone to cough and sneeze.
When it settled, Peppermint's eyes went wide. “Is that...” she asked.
Jack chuckled. “Sure is.” Jack chuckled, looking at the loom fondly. “The very first loom I ever worked on. Repaired and replaced everything in here at least once myself.” He smiled, remembering. “Ace heard about your idea, and thought of this immediately.”
“You mean...I can have it?”
“Well, it's not getting much use down here! I've kept it for sentimental reasons. But I'd be happy to see it out in the sun again, getting a new lease on life. And...” He looked at the loom, cocking his head as if listening to somepony speaking softly. “And I think it'd be happier working again.”
“Oh, Mr--” she paused as Pixelbright cleared her throat quietly. “Jack, thank you!” Peppermint trotted forward, looking the loom over excitedly. “Oh, this is perfect! I really can't thank you enough.”
“Don't thank me, thank Ace. He's the one who thought of it. Which reminds me. Sawbuck, go fetch my idiot eldest and tell him I've got some heavy moving for him to do.”
On the road back to town, Pixelbright and Peppermint walked on either side of Ace as the young stallion pulled a cart with the the loom lashed down in it. He was breathing hard, and his face was set in concentration, but he pulled steadily despite his work in the orchard. He looked over at Pixelbright. “Dad...ask...about the Summer Sun Celebration?”
“He said he and your mom wanted all of us to come down again like last year. It was a lot of fun. They'll be happy to accept.”
“Good. My little sisters would...kill me if...I didn't make sure you came.” He looked over at Peppermint Tea, smiling through the strain of pulling the heavy cart up the slight grade. “You...should come too...Peppermint.”
“Well, I don't know, there's a lot of work I have to catch up on at the mill, and we usually--”
“Oh, please?” Pixelbright broke in. “I really could use a hand with Candy Cane and Swan, and I know they'd love you, too.”
“Well...”
“Please, Peppermint? Last year I was so tired I almost missed the sunrise; those two had me running all over the place, and I really want to be able to appreciate the sunrise this year. Plus if you came we could have four ponies, and two teams means a lot more games.”
“Okay, okay. I'll talk to my mom about it.”
Ace, who had been looking back and forth between the two young mares as they conversed, heads lowered to see each other on either side of him, smiled. “Thanks,” he said, looking ahead.
“You're welcome.” Pixelbright and Peppermint answered in unison. Peppermint looked at her friend in confusion, but the other unicorn was already looking away, up at the Tea family mill.
“Oh, sorry,” Peppermint said. “That's a bit of a climb. Pixel, maybe we can take this to your workshop?”
“No, Ace can do it, right Ace?”
The stallion looked at the tall, steep hill approaching, and and the spiraling road that wound around and up to the windmill at its peak. He set his shoulders and pulled a bit faster, leaning into the harness. “Easy.”
“See, Peppermint? And we can walk behind and help keep things steady.”
Peppermint narrowed her eyes in concentration, frowning a little as she considered the situation. “Okay,” she allowed, her tone serious. “But if you need to stop, let us know.” Ace just snorted.
The two unicorn mares fell back behind the earth stallion. Their horns glowed, and a mixed aura of green and orange swirls appeared around the loom as they stabilized it and took a little of the weight. Pixelbright looked over at her friend, then up at the stallion, then back at her friend, significantly. The green unicorn ignored her, looking straight ahead, pretending to be lost in thought. Pixelbright cleared her throat, and tried again. This time Peppermint looked over briefly, and followed her gaze to the wagon and the stallion pulling it. She looked back at Pixelbright, flicked her ears and tail, and raised her nose, putting more magic into holding and lifting the loom and forcing Pixelbright to keep up or risk and imbalance.
She had to concentrate all the way up the hill, and by the time they reached the summit she and Peppermint were almost as tired as Ace looked. He shrugged out of the harness and stood tall. “See? No problem.” His flanks were heaving, and it was clear he was struggling not to pant.
“Thanks, Ace.” Pixelbright said, hanging her head for a moment as she recovered.
“Hmm? Oh. Yes. Thanks a lot, Ace,” Peppermint added after a moment. Ace smiled broadly at her, and Peppermint looked away. “I'll get you some refreshments and some help to unload the loom.”
The last timbers floated into place as the sun kissed the ocean, sending gold-red rays through the entire valley, making the hills glow and causing the mill to cast a blue-black shadow over where the Pixelbright and Peppermint were working.
The two unicorns surveyed their work together, and with help from a few ponies working at the mill, they had put together a small structure in the lee of the mill. It was only partially enclosed, but the overhanging roof and walls on either side would be enough combined with the shelter provided by the mill itself. Resting in the center of it was the loom, which Peppermint was regarding adoringly.
Pixelbright had spent much of the afternoon while they were working together trying to catch her friend's eye so she could shoot her a smirk or a waggled eyebrow, but Peppermint had stolidly refused to take the bait, seemingly focused completely on putting the structure together or completely unaware of her friend's significant looks. The closest Pixelbright had come to being able to tease the other unicorn was when Peppermint had grumbled something about not knowing why they had brought the thing up here instead of down to Pixelbright's workshop. Before Pixelbright could finish drawing in breath, Peppermint had muttered “quiet, you”, and gone into the mill to fetch the tools she was likely to need.
“I'll have to get some fireflies so I can work at night,” Peppermint said, coming up and pushing on the support beams with a forehoof.
“Oh, I can get you one of the solar crystals from the workshop,” Pixelbright replied. “It'll catch enough light during the day to give a good glow most of the evening. I'll bring up the wire and everything else tomorrow.” She levitated the list Peppermint had insisted on making, just to show that she still had it and knew what was needed. To Peppermint, lists were very important—for other ponies. The green unicorn herself tended to improvise as she moved along in projects, but seldom had trouble recalling her exact steps or repeating what she had done. She never seemed quite able to trust anypony else to have the same prodigious powers of memory, or any powers of memory at all, it sometimes seemed.
“Peppermint, thank you very much for—oh!” Ms. Tea, coming around the side of the mill, stopped in her tracks. She eyed the new structure and its contents as if it might slouch into collapse and pull her great stone mill down the hill with it. “You've built a...thing.” She moved up to inspect the loom, her nose wrinkling up slightly. “What is this?”
Pixelbright looked at her friend, who was already backing away from the scene, her head lowered a little. “It's a loom, Ms. Tea,” she put in. Without realizing it, she started moving slowly left, placing herself between Peppermint and her mother. “Peppermint is working on some ideas that the Harts are very interested in.” There was no response from the rose-colored unicorn, who was now in the open shed, looking closely at the tools sitting on their workbench. “Um...it could be very good for business.”
In truth Pixelbright had no idea what Peppermint had in mind. Her friend had been tight-lipped about whatever ideas she had from the loom. But when the green unicorn was not forthcoming, it usually meant she was brewing a particularly impressive. Her silences had always ended with the unveiling of something brilliant, like her set of levers, buckets and gears that could sort objects by weight, size, and even shape. She hadn't said anything about that at all until it was ready. Whatever was going to happen with this mill would be a doozy, so it could be good for business...and it Jack and Ace had talked a lot about the loom, so they were no doubt interested...so that part was true too.
Ms. Tea gave Pixelbright the same flat look the orange unicorn often received from Peppermint. Pixelbright swallowed. “Well,” she said, looking up at the roof as if searching out flaws she expected to find, “Just make sure it doesn't interfere with your work, okay, honey?” She looked over at her daughter, who was still hanging her head, and received a faint nod. “Good. Then I'll see you inside for dinner. I don't know what Soul Patch has cooked up tonight, but it smells lovely.” She gave the loom a last suspicious once-over, and then headed out.
A long moment passed, and then Peppermint said, very quietly, “...this is my work...” She brushed past Pixelbright and began using her magic to carefully rearrange the tools, which had not been disturbed in the slightest. “Okay, Pixel,” she said finally. “This is going to have to be on the back burner for a couple of days. I have a lot to do around here, and I know my mom's going to send me out for a lot of maintenance work. Come back in maybe a week and we can talk some more then, okay?”
Pixelbright never knew what to say when her friend was like this. She just didn't understand the tension between Peppermint and her mother. So she nodded, said, “Okay,” and came forward to give the other unicorn a gentle nuzzle. “I'll see you next week.”
She left, looking back once to see Peppermint still standing there, staring at the loom in the deepening purple dark.
It was late at night in the workshop, almost a week later. Pixelbright had brought in one of the solar crystals from outside, and its slowly shifting white rays illuminated the organized chaos more than well enough for work. There was a place for everything, but there were so many things that there wasn't much place. Hundreds of items, from mundane worktools to esoteric art supplies and custom-fabricated pieces of equipment for various experiments stood in neatly arranged rows on shelves, or were hung in fixed regiments on the walls, or were packed tightly in their own individual containers.
Currently, the unicorn was working with a set of crystal spheres her father had created as part of one of his own projects years ago. She arranged them carefully in a set of wooden cradles on a table, the paper surface of which was marked with extensive notes for each one. Horn glowing, she opened a filing case nearby, sorting through various papers inside before levitating one out to look at. It was written in an exotic hand, with great loops and flourishes. She scanned it over quickly for the measurements she was looking for.
...agree with you completely that the colors of the world are inherent to the light from Celestia's sun and not as some would have an inherent property of vision...my own experiments as you know have been heretofore conducted with triangular prisms with which I have achieved good results...very interested to discover whether the solar crystals you describe would produce the same results or whether there is a transformative influence from the storage method or the crystals themselves...would be deeply indebted to you if you would be so kind as to utilize your own artificed raindrop crystals and provide a brief description of the results...have included below a list of measurements, placements, and et cetera which you may have to adjust as I have performed the calculations mentally based on your descriptions and which may not be entirely accurate...Your loving friend and humble servant, Fig.
Pixelbright had to smile at this. Fig constantly belittled his ability with numbers, but she had never been able to find an error in his calculations, which he seemed to perform on the fly and often included, with a dash-offed look, in margins of letters or napkins and, once, scrawled across a page from what seemed to have been a romance novel. Still, they were always good, even if she sometimes had to squint a bit to make out the formulae, or run them by her mother to decipher how to work the equations.
These, however, were as clear as his work ever was, and she read his requested parameters aloud, checking her own equipment and making sure everything was arranged properly. After a few minor corrections, she was ready.
Using her magic, she brought the solar crystal down. Its shifting rays caused the colored lights cast by her spheres to shift and dance, and as always she stopped to admire them. Despite ponies' ability to manufacture rainbows, color itself, the source of so much splendor and magic, was a total mystery. She wanted to know the why of color. She didn't know what exactly, but she was certain the answer contained the key to something wonderful for all ponykind.
When textbooks had failed to answer her questions, she'd turned asked her mother and father if any of their contacts in the universities and industry of Equestria, or among their scholarly friends might have answers. They'd encouraged her to write her own letters. She'd been nervous, going over the letters again and again, correcting and re-writing until she felt each one was perfect, and then delaying sending them off out of fear of being ignored or even laughed at. The responses she'd received had been very helpful. Most ponies had some idea of the accepted theory, and gave their own summaries, which helped illuminate the total lack understanding on the subject. More useful, though, were recommendations on who else to write to, or where to send further inquiries. Gradually she'd built a small network of other ponies, mostly her age, who were asking similar questions or pursuing experiments that could be useful to her.
As her own could be useful to them. She'd started her own experiments, based first on her father's suggestion to try to duplicate the effects of raindrops using the crystal spheres he still had in his workshop, but rapidly branching out. As she accumulated more equipment and made more frequent, detailed experiments and observations, she had used her father's workshop more and more, until he had eventually turned it over to her completely.
She lifted the solar crystal and placed it in a box Peppermint had made for her. The box completely sealed in the light except for a round opening on one end. A series of levers allowed her to change the size of the opening, so she could direct a beam of light of whatever size she wanted. It had been invaluable, and Fig had had a duplicate made, using mirrors to bring natural light in from the outside and making his experiments with prisms much more precise. She worked with it now, setting it to the angles and widths Fig has asked for, checking the results as it moved through one or more spheres, watching where the colors overlapped especially and describing the effects very carefully. Fig had shown that the colors produced by sending light through a prism stayed the same when they went through another one. He was sure that this meant the colors were in the light itself, and that they could be separated out. His professors and other experts remained convinced that color was either a property of sight or was somehow produced by the prism, and so Fig relentlessly cataloged experiments showing what happened with the light from prisms interacted with each other.
So far, it looked like sunlight stored by the solar crystals was producing the same colors, which were interacting the same ways, as light directly from the sun. Pixelbright smiled. She was always happy to see the self-doubting pony's ideas work out, but she knew these results would just trigger another flurry of letters from Fig to her and other people in their little circle, asking for other information or making requests for further validation.
Pixelbright finished the experiment, then set everything aside and began setting up for a second run. Early frustrations had taught her the value of repeatable results, and her mother had always stressed the importance of checking and double-checking when it came to numbers. Even her father, who leapt from project to project and idea to idea, often before the last one was completed or seemed fully explored, had always taught her to “measure twice, cut once”. When it came to her father it was definitely a case of “do as I say and not as I do”, but she had learned the lesson regardless, in part because he served as such a good object lesson.
The second run went just as well as the first, but by the time she reached the bottom of the columns of figures she found herself yawning and having to read the same line two or three times before realizing whether they matched or not. She looked up at the heavy shade covering the workshop's round window and hoped it wasn't light outside already. She tended to lose track of time in the workshop, and her parents didn't like her staying up all night too often.
She unfastened the curtain with her magic and drew just a bit of it aside, relieved to see blackness outside. Then the blackness opened a pair of golden eyes as her cat, Midnight, peered into the window. He mewed plaintively, and she smiled. “Okay, okay. I'm coming.” The cat often came to collect her when he felt it was time for bed. He mewed again in response, and his gold eyes watched carefully as she put each item back in its place.
Outside, Midnight jumped down from the window and poured himself around her legs, purring loudly. He was a sleek cat, dark as his namesake, with luminous golden eyes. She bent down to nuzzle him, and he leaned into the motion, then sprang away to wait at a point halfway down the path to the house, looking back to make sure she knew she was expected to follow. She smiled, rolling her eyes, and walked up to him, waiting to as he wound himself around her legs again and then sprung up the path to put his paws on the door handle and look back at her, again, touching the door handle demonstratively.
In this way she was led through the entire house, Midnight checking her progress watchfully, until the cat had successfully placed her in bed and marched around over the covers proudly, before settling down himself at her side, purring away.
Tucked under the covers, Pixelbright turned to look at the rainbow-wax seal from Dr. Sunmane's letter. She lit the room a little, and the proud pegasus pressed into the wax shimmered in the light of her horn. Light and color again. Her heart started to beat quickly again, and she found herself rehearsing explanations of her research and findings and running through conversations with the doctor, Spectra Shine, and other pegasi.
Pegasi! She looked around, finding the feather she kept in a little display case on one of the shelves, and brought it across the room to stand upright next to the seal. Later, she thought, she'd have to put some of her wire grating up there too. Maybe have have them all together in a shadow box, as a reminder. The feather was what had started the quest she was on now.
She'd known that rainbows had to to with rain, sun, and clouds. That was obvious. And Pegasi could make them by arranging the right elements in the right positions. She'd seen that much herself. And reliable sources, including pegasi she'd talked to, told her that some pegasi, with the right talents and training, could herd rainbows, kicking them into shape or pulling them around with their teeth, even collecting the individual colors by flying through the arcs. But no one had been able to explain how these things were done. Either they hadn't thought about it, or, as one pegasus said, “you'd have to have wings to understand.”
That had intrigued her. Maybe it was something about pegasi themselves that let them do these things? And what was the obvious difference between pegasi and other ponies? Wings of course! She still felt a little chagrined that it had taken her as long as it had to start on that line of thought. It seemed so obvious now. She'd spent a long time poring over anatomy books, questioning the local pegasi, and examining the wings of those willing to indulge her. She'd learned a lot about their mechanics, and Peppermint had even built a little model pegasus that could flap clumsily for a short distance. But it was idle thought that had unlocked the gate to the path she was on now.
One day she had been sitting in the workshop, pondering her next step. She'd picked up a pegasus feather, one given to her by Goldenrush, a pegasus who had been especially helpful and even provided a number of sketches of wing anatomy and flight action. She'd been turning it this way and that, and then held it up to look at the sun through it, her mind starting to drift, when she'd noticed something. As she turned the feather, she saw glimmers of color. It wasn't on the wing—she'd seen that before—but between the small strands that Peppermint thought allowed the wing to catch and shape the air while still staying very light. She'd turned the feather back and forth, and the colors she saw changed. They'd changed! And it hadn't been the feather, not the surface or the colors of the feather, but the structure of it, separating light into color!
She'd been electrified. To find something else, anything else, that could change the color of light and reproduce a rainbow—she'd rushed into the workshop, tripping over a startled Midnight and nearly knocking her father off the stairs—to try to duplicate the effect with something else.
Eventually she'd come to the conclusion that it was the thinness of the feather's strands and the way they were oriented that allowed it to somehow strain light and produce tiny sunbursts and rainbows of color. Could it be pegasus magic? Or could anything do it if the structure was right? Her experiments with crystal spheres and natural drops of water from different sources had convinced her that materials didn't hold the magic to the process, or if they did it was all the same magic. And if ponies could build crystals that acted like raindrops, couldn't something that acted like feathers also be built?
Months of painstaking trial and error had led to the construction of her first light-strainer, which, while still incomplete, showed her that structures like this could be built, and that light could be strained by a fine grating, different colors coming through it in different directions. Her results were far from rainbows, but she was sure this was because the wire grate she' made wasn't anywhere near as fine as the parts of a pegasus feather. It was the process of building a finer grating that her father had interrupted that morning almost a week ago, when the letter from Dr. Sunmane had come.
And now, she and Peppermint Tea, who had worked so hard on the mystery of color together, would get to go to Cloudsdale to see how the biggest and best rainbows in Equestria were made! Tomorrow was the end of the week Peppermint had asked her to wait before coming by again, and she couldn't wait. She spent a long time staring at the feather and the rainbow seal, thinking of everything she and her friend would do together, of the letters they'd write to Fig and Huggings and the others in their circle, and of tours and secrets of the Cloudsdale Weather Factory. Without her realizing, her musings turned into dreams, and the orange unicorn slept soundly, smiling.
The morning was cool, but warming fast. The rising sun poured light into the valley, kissing the dew that had formed on the grass and trees, causing everything to shine silver tinged with every color of the rainbow. A breeze flowed through Pixelbright's mane and tickled her coat, bringing with it the scent of the forest in the hills above the valley, where a bit of fog still lingered, slowly retreating.
Pixel's mother had been up, working on a problem she and a friend at Canterlot University were trying to solve together. They'd eaten a light breakfast together and then, as her father stumbled yawning downstairs, Pixelbright had packed a light lunch along with the supplies Peppermint needed and headed out, explaining that she might be gone all day working with her friend.
Now she was on the road into town, watching the birds soar overhead and the distant preparations as the millers started their day. It was a big market day, part of the festivities leading up to the Summer Sun Celebration, and a lot of ponies were out already. She called out to farmponies she knew, and near the crossroads stepped off the road to let a wagon caravan from New Saddle pass by. When the way was clear, she saw a familiar white stallion with a red-and-black mane. He was wearing saddlebags marked with a red heart, and chatting with the crossroads guard. She headed over to join him, and he saw her, meeting her partway.
“Good morning, Pixelbright. You're looking very nice today.” Pixelbright blushed a little and flipped her strawberry mane, which she'd put a set of rainbow beads into today.
“Thank you, Ace,” she said with a little curtsy. “You're looking...” she almost said 'as handsome as ever' but decided that as true as it was, the incorrigible stallion didn't need any encouragement, at least from her. “...at liberty today. Your parents let you out?”
“Well, sort of.” He looked back over his shoulder and whistled loudly. A little white pony with a dramatically striped red-and-white mane and fetlocks in the same colors separated herself from a group of other young fillies and walked over.
“Candy Cane, good morning,” Pixelbright said. “Out with your big brother?”
“I'm keeping an eye on him,” the little filly said, fixing her much older brother with a serious stare. “Mom and Dad said he's not allowed out by himself for another week.”
“Well, I'm glad somepony's keeping him under control.”
“Somepony has to be responsible around here, and there's no school because it's market day. Everyone else is in town at our stall. He's only allowed out because he's going to get his shoes repaired...but I know he really just wants to see his girlfriend.”
“Candy Cane!” Ace hissed, as Pixelbright stifled a laugh. “What did I say about that?”
His little sister ignored him. “So here I am. What about you, Pixelbright?”
“I'm going to see Ace's—um, Peppermint Tea, too. She's working on a project and I'm bringing her supplies she needs.” The three of them started walking again, heading toward the hills and the Tea family mill.
“Do you know how it's going?” Ace asked.
“I think she's just starting it. She had a lot of work her mother wanted her to do.”
“Work first, then play,” Candy Cane chimed in, nodding seriously. Ace sighed heavily, his ears drooping.
“What did you do, anyway?” Pixelbright asked.
“He snuck off with his friends instead of doing work again.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Ace admitted. “I forgot it was time to balance the books and I was out all night. I came in to find my Dad doing the work and my Mom waiting for me.”
“Boy, were they mad.” Candy Cane said. “I've never heard Mom yell so loud.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “She even said some bad words.”
“Yeah, pretty much.” Ace muttered.
“So now I have to watch him instead of going to the market with the rest of my friends.” The little filly looked back down the road toward the town.
“I'm really sorry about that part, Candy Cane.” Pixelbright looked at Ace, whose ears were flat in shame. He was looking at his little sister with undisguised regret.
Candy Cane looked up at him haughtily, opening her mouth to say something...but then looked at his face and seemed to change her mind.
“I know, big brother,” she said, and she reared up to kiss him delicately on the cheek. She looked at Pixelbright and whispered, “I think he's learned his lesson.” The orange unicorn nodded in agreement.
The mill was buzzing with market-day activity. Ms. Tea was overseeing, and directed them to where they could find Peppermint. She also recruited a very willing Candy Cane as the official taste-tester for the baked goods she would be using to showcase the mill's flours, and told Ace to take his time making sure everything was properly fit and done well. “We can handle the trip to market on our own,” Ms. Tea said, indicating the workers helping her. “You and Peppermint take as long as you need.” Ace thanked her awkwardly and the two went around to the back of the mill.
They found Peppermint looking out over the valley, watching the rising sun as the last of the mist retreated into the mountains. Ace joined her, while Pixel looked over at the shelter they had built for the mill, finding the partial walls now screened in with a simple wood lattice and drawings and plans lining the interior.
“Did you bring everything on the list?” Peppermint asked, first thing.
“Good morning. Yes I did.”
“Thanks.” The green unicorn sighed and took the bags with her magic, moving into the little workshop while levitating and sorting out the wire, cogs, specialized tools, solar crystal, and everything else. She walked slowly, and her mane was limp, unstyled. Ace and Pixelbright looked at each other with concern.
“Is everything okay?” Ace asked.
“Yeah, fine,” Peppermint replied, not looking back at them. She sorted the last of the tools and went over to one of her plans. “Okay, let's see the shoes.”
Ace fetched them out of the bags and set them down, stepping into them. Peppermint plodded over and began making slow, careful adjustment to the straps and closures with her magic, levitating up a notepad and quill at the same time, wordlessly writing items down.
Pixelbright was worried. Her friend was usually a little taciturn, but still energetic. This morning she looked withdrawn, defeated. Pixelbright wanted to help, but didn't know what to do or say. Peppermint hated being interrupted while she was working even during the best of times, and when the green unicorn decided not to talk about something there was usually nothing anypony could do to change her mind.
Ace watched Peppermint work, concern clear on his face. Birdsong drifted up from below, mixing with the sound of Ms. Tea and the workers getting ready for market. He seemed to steel himself, then leaned down to touch Peppermint briefly with his muzzle. "Really? You don't seem 'fine'." The green unicorn froze at his touch, saying nothing.
"We're your friends," Pixelbright said, and Ace looked over at her with what looked like relief.
"Yeah," he said, softly. "We're worried about you. Is it your mom?"
The glow around Peppermint's horn faded, and she stopped working on the shoes. “I'm just really tired,” she said, and there was an odd strain in her voice Pixelbright had never heard before. “Mom's been having me go all over town, making deliveries she normally has the hired hooves, do plus collecting miller's fees from everyone and doing all the repair work here. I've barely had time to think about what I want to do with the loom. It's like...” her voice caught. “It's like she's doing it on purpose, like she knows how important this project is to me and doesn't want me to be able to do it. I can't even think about my ideas or start making sketches without her seeing and coming up with something to interrupt me.”
Pixelbright couldn't imagine that was true, and she started to say so, but Ace spoke before she could put her thoughts in order. “I have an idea...”
It was near midnight. Market day festivities were still going on in the town far below, lit by lanterns and magic and a few solar lamps developed by Pixelbright's father. They could sometimes hear music and laughter drifting up from the little web of gold and silver light down in the valley, but more often they could hear the sea, or the sighing of wind through the Wild Hills and the strange cries it brought with it.
“Isn't this....a little dangerous?” Peppermint asked. Ace hadn't said anything about going up into the Wild Hills, only asking them to meet him at the lake near the base of the hills after the nighttime festivities were in full swing. Now it was clear they were heading deeper into them. Pixelbright stayed close to her friend, watching the narrow path very carefully.
“No, I do this all the time,” Ace said. The white stallion was walking along ahead of them, head high, relaxed and confident. “We're close to town. If you're in a group, nothing will bother you.” Something cried out in the darkness to their left, and they all jumped a little, though Ace tried to hide it. “Um...my friends and I found an old guardhouse or something up here, and they're already waiting for us. It's not very far.”
Behind them, they heard bells start ringing and stopped to look back. Little silver-blue lights were drifting up from the town as bells rang and ponies crashed pots and pans together. The lights, paper lanterns with an image of the moon, were sent up at midnight. Hanging under each would be a colored ribbon with a little bit of food or a few bits, attached in the hopes that the offering would appease Nightmare Moon and spare the celebrants the anger of the wicked princess of the night despite their late-night revelry in honor of the sun.
It was only a legend, an ancient custom no one really believed in anymore, but it still made Pixelbright shiver. She looked up at the full moon and the mare-like shadow there, which seemed to be watching the little town, and felt the night close in around her.
“Let's get moving,” Ace said, a bit hurriedly, and the two unicorn mares agreed.
As promised, it was not very far. Just over the next rise was a dip sheltered by ancient overhanging trees and tall rocks, some of which had been carved with designs barely discernible in the filtered moonlight. Resting on a flat area of rocky ground shaped like the hollow of a hoof was a sizable round building of stacked stone. Smoke wound up from a hole in the center of its dome-shaped roof, and the flickering glow of firelight made its way out through squarish windows and chinks in the stone walls.
They were met at the bottom by a young earth pony stallion about Ace's age whose dark coat and mane kept him hidden in the shadows until he came out with a grin. “Hey, Ace. These the ones you were talking about?” The pony looked the two of them over, then inclined his head respectfully. Pixelbright curtseyed, which made him smile, while Peppermint scrutinized the buildings and its surroundings.
“Sure are.”
“Okay. Wait here and I'll go tell everyone.”
The darkly colored pony disappeared through a flap of canvas that hung over the door, and a moment later they heard a cheer come up. Ponies started streaming out of the building, and quickly Pixelbright and Peppermint found themselves surrounded by pegasi and unicorns and earth ponies, all of them older colts or younger stallions greeting them with hoofshakes and brief hugs and enthusiastic hellos. Pixelbright struggled to keep up, and Peppermint resorted to simply trying to stay upright in the jostling, boisterous crowd.
They were half-ushered, half-carried into the building, where they found a huge open space, warmly lit by a roaring fire in a pit in the center of the room. There was some simple furniture about, fashioned from straight logs and pieces of found wood, fitted together with joints or lashes. One of these was a table on which sat two small barrels, and a dark red earth pony rushed over and filled two mismatched mugs for them. Pixelbright smelled summer cider, and took the cup, as did Peppermint, a bit more reservedly.
There was a loud banging which echoed through the room. Ace was standing near the fire, drumming his forehooves on the flat stone floor. A moment later the dark pony from earlier joined him, as did several others, and suddenly everypony was doing it. Just as Pixelbright was wondering if she should find a place to put her mug so she could join it, the drumming stopped. Everypony was looking at Ace. The white stallion looked around, seeming to meet each pony's eyes, and spoke. “Fillies and gentlecolts.” There was a bit of good-natured laughter at that, and a pegasus nearby gave Pixelbright a friendly bump. “Let's give a big Roundhouse welcome to Pixelbright and Peppermint Tea!”
The little crowd began drumming their forehooves again, settling into a rhythm to which they all chanted. “Round-house! Round-house! Round-house!” After a few moments it trailed off. Peppermint, Pixel saw, was looking around, eyes wide, as if she'd suddenly found herself surrounded by talking lobsters.
“Brothers,” Ace continued. “You have heard my petition and were gracious enough to allow me to bring these two here. I'd now like to make a formal request that these two mares, Pixelbright and Peppermint Tea, full members of the Roundhouse Fellowship, with all the rights, privileges, benefits...”
“...and duties!” Somepony shouted.
“Yes, and duties this involves.”
“What duties do you think he means?” Pixelbright whispered to her friend, who was still looking around in shock. The pegasus who had bumped her earlier leaned in to whisper, “cleaning and bringing food and drinks for the meetings. We all do it.”
Ace was continuing. “...all in favor?” There was a chorus of ayes. “All opposed?” Silence.
“So let it be noted! Cartwheels, note the results of the vote.”
The dark pony standing next to Ace brought out a piece of paper and quill. “So noted! No neighs, the ayes have it.”
“Then let it be done! Peppermint Tea, Pixelbright, you are hereby formally offered full membership in the Roundhouse Fellowship, where you will always be offered shelter, a helping hoof and an understanding ear. Do you accept?”
The crowd turned, almost as one, to stare at the two. It was Pixelbright's turn to stand, rooted to the ground and unable to speak. Finally Peppermint said, “I guess it can't hur--” only to be drowned out by a chorus of cheers. Several ponies lifted mugs, downing them in salute, and Pixelbright found herself doing the same, along with Peppermint, who drank her own mug steadily but finished the whole thing.
A grey unicorn produced a mandolin, and a yellow pegasus a pan flute. An earthpony turned over a pair of empty bowls, and music began, simple but heartfelt. The crowd formed itself into two ragged lines, shaking hooves with the two and welcoming them to the Fellowship.
“They really think this is quite a big deal,” whispered Pixelbright to her friend.
“I think it's a boy thing,” Peppermint whispered back.
Endless minutes later the congratulations and introductions were done, and Ace and the dark pony, Cartwheels, guided them gently away from the main portion of the crowd and over to where Ace stood. “Welcome to the Fellowship,” said Ace, beaming proudly.
“Sorry about all the fuss,” Cartwheels interjected.
“No, no,” Pixelbright said. She still felt a little stunned. She looked around the huge structure. She had no idea something like this was here, so close to town! She'd never even heard of it. And it looked like a lot of effort had been put into cleaning it up and even some repairs. “It's...nice.” Peppermint grunted something that might have been agreement.
“We've been meeting up here since we were foals,” Ace said. “Wheels here and I found it one winter, and we’ve brought the others in since then.”
“When we first found it, it was a real dump,” Cartwheels said. “Most of the other guys came in a few years ago when we decided to fix it up over the summer. We think it was an old guardhouse or something, maybe a barracks.”
“Anyway, when I heard about your problem,” Ace said, looking at Peppermint, “I thought of the Roundhouse right away. I come up here when I need to get away from my parents--”
“--or when you need to get your tail handed to you in wrestling.” Cartwheels cut in, and the much larger Ace hip-checked him. They both laughed. “Well, Ace thought this would be a perfect place for you to have a secret workshop,” Cartwheel finished. “A lot of the guys here come up here to get away from problems like that. The Roundhouse is a place where you can be yourself, get away from what others think you should do or be. A place where a pony can be himself—or, er, herself—and talk with ponies who understand what it's like not to be understood.”
“So when Wheels and I told the guys about our idea,” Ace picked up.
“--which was a good idea, for once,” Cartwheels cut in again, winking at Pixelbright. “Mark today on your calendar.”
“Ahem. Well, they were all for it.”
“Wait,” Peppermint said. She levitated her mug over to a nearby table. “So you're saying...this secret boys club...you want to let us use it as a place to do our work?”
Ace nodded. “Or even just relax when you need to get away from your mom. Or...talk to someone who understands you.” He cleared his throat, looking away for a moment, and Cartwheels stepped forward.
“See, if your mom thinks you dropped your project, she won't bother you about it. Then, you can come up here at night or whenever you get the chance, and you've got a great big space no one knows about to work on whatever you want!”
Pixelbright watched her friend carefully. The green unicorn didn't always like changes, even for the better, and seldom trusted others when they came up with plans. On the other hoof, she could take the biggest disasters and unexpected results in stride when it came to her own work. Peppermint was staring at Ace suspiciously, her eyes narrow. Finally she spoke.
“Really?”
Ace nodded. “Really.” Peppermint continued staring at him, and he looked at Pixelbright, who could only shrug, then down at Cartwheels, who smiled up at him and then trotted over to an area nearby, where something big was draped in canvas. He grabbed a rope attached to it in his teeth and pulled, causing the canvas to drop off a two-wheel cart containing the loom, heavily lashed down.
“Really,” Cartwheels said. He got up on his hind legs and reached into the cart, pulling out a heavy wooden toolbox with his mouth. Straining, he brought it over to Peppermint, who grabbed it with her magic and opened it up. The unfolding shelves revealed most of the tools and supplies from the shed she and Pixelbright had built to shelter her latest project.
Peppermint looked down, sorting everything out with her magic, creating a halo of tools and supplies that floated in a slow circle around her. She watched each one pass, then put them all back in the toolbox. Pixelbright could see she was shaking a little bit.
“Ace Hart,” she said frostily. The music stopped and several ponies turned to look at her. Her voice was quiet and deadly serious, cold as winter ice. “If I find out that this is some sort of silly colt's joke...” a light green glow appeared around her horn, and Ace started to glow the same color, lifting up off the ground. “...one of your ill-conceived attempts at practical humor...” Ace blinked, his hooves trying to find purchase as Peppermint lifted him further and further off the ground. “If this turns out to be a deception of any kind...they will speak of your fate for generations in hushed whispers, and shudder. Am I perfectly clear?”
Ace, now near the high ceiling, swallowed nervously. No one else spoke. There was only the crackling of the fire. “Perf...” he tried again. “Yes.”
Then he found himself on the ground, with Peppermint's forelimbs wrapped around him in a strangling hug.
Over the next several days, Peppermint worked at the Roundhouse every chance she had, aided and abetted by Pixelbright, who, though it made her a little uncomfortable, would sometimes say that her friend was spending the night at her house. Pixelbright's parents didn't mind late nights working on projects. They might not have been happy if they had known that the work was taking place in a restored ruin in the Wild Hills, but as they hadn’t asked, Pixelbright had been able to avoid the issue.
The Fellowship were true to their word, and Peppermint was ecstatic. Her tools were never so much as moved, and sometimes she would come in to find things cleaned or some of the supplies she needed replenished. In return, she and Pixelbright did plenty of cleaning, and Peppermint directed Pixelbright in how to perform a number of necessary repair and restoration tasks she'd spotted, usually while she was also performing her own work and asking questions about Pixelbright's needs.
They adjusted the loom to accept Peppermint's mysterious linkages, which she would say nothing about but which would clearly drive the action of the loom. They modified it to accept wire from standard threads and work with it as if it were cloth thread. They built and installed a treadmill to test the linkages, which worked fine. The Roundhouse gave her all the space she needed and more, and as the days went on and the project progressed, Pixelbright witnessed her friend opening up again; starting to talk while working, singing once more, braiding her mane, and even helping Pixelbright do the same, something that had never happened before.
That was Pixelbright was doing now. Rain was falling softly outside, a few drops making their way through the cover of the trees to land on the roof. The fire was burning low, mostly embers, and a gentle red light filled the Roundhouse. As usual, almost no one was here. The gathering of the Fellowship's dozen or so members had been called only to vote on Pixelbright's and Peppermint's membership and welcome them in. At the moment only Citrus Swirl and Cartwheels, the two ponies they saw most frequently, were here. Playing cards over by the fire. Citrus Swirl was blind, but played easily; he'd made cards with notches in the face and read them that way. Pixelbright was braiding her friend's pink and white mane, or at least trying to; it was harder than it looked. Peppermint was laying on the floor, using her magic to sketch out plans for a new component of the loom. She grunted in frustration and sent another plan to join the stack of discarded ideas.
“Ugh! There has to be a way to control this.” She sent everything flying away in a flurry, then grabbed it before it could land and put it all in a neat stack floating off to one side. She settled it and put her head on the floor. “I want you to be able to put different spacings into length of grating so you can compare results immediately, and I just can't figure out how to do that without adjusting the whole loom by hoof. That doesn't give you the gradual transitions, and it doesn't save any time.”
“I don't really have any experiments in mind that will need a smooth transition from one spacing to another,” Pixelbright said gently. “it's enough that we'll be able to make them quickly, and make different types. It takes almost no effort, or...it won't when you're done. It's more than enough, really. Don't worry about it.”
“But I have to,” Peppermint growled. “I know there's a way and I'm going to figure it out.”
“What if you--”
“Here you are!” Pixelbright jumped at the angry interjection. Citrus Swirl and Cartwheels scrambled to their feet, sending playing cards everywhere. Peppermint Tea just froze, squeezing her eyes shut. Standing half-in and half out of the doorway, her horn glowing angrily as she held the canvas flap aside and kept the rain off herself, was Ms. Tea. She looked around the room, her eyes narrowing when she saw the two young stallions. They gulped, and Citrus Swirl, as if sensing the venomous gaze, tried to hide the cards under his hooves. “Sneaking off to spend time with boys...” Her horn flared brighter and the flames flickered, causing the two young stallions to shrink back against the wall. Ms. Tea turned to look at her daughter, who was still laying on the floor, facing away, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her gaze turned on Pixelbright.
“And you...Picture Bright. I expected better from you,” Ms. Tea said, stepping fully into the building. Cabbage Green and Lovelylace would be so disappointed to see their daughter out gallivanting around the Wild Hills with a bunch of...” she stopped and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Citrus Swirl and
Cartwheels took the opportunity to escape, scrambling out the door as fast as they could. “Well. Both of you are coming with me this very instant.” A rose-red aura appeared around Peppermint as Ms. Tea hauled her daughter to her feet.
Pixelbright tried to say something, to defend her friend and explain what they were doing here, but the words wouldn't come. They'd been so careful—how had they been discovered? And what could she say that Ms. Tea would believe? The mare clearly had her mind made up about the situation. Maybe after she'd calmed down--
There was a flash of green light and a blast of wind swirled around the Roundhouse, whipping flames high and sending papers and tools scattering. Peppermint Tea's horn was glowing brightly, and a green aura had appeared around her, brightest at her feet, countering her mother's magic and holding herself to the ground. The older unicorn bent her head to the task and her horn glowed brighter, rose swirls plucking at her daughter's magic. “Young. Lady.” She said between gritted teeth. “You. Will come home this. Instant.” She was breathing hard, small sparks beginning to drip from her horn.
“No.” Peppermint's glow remained steady, brightening slowly, the aura around her widening and driving back the flickers of her mother's power.
“What did you say to me?”
“I said no.” Peppermint took a slow step forward, then another, the glow around her growing brighter. “You think I care about silly boys? You think I come up here to 'do some inventory'?” Ms. Tea gasped.
“I'm not like you, mother.” Peppermint picked up her plans and tools, the glow around each one pulsing rapidly, all of them forming an arc that framed the loom. It began to glow too, rocking as though it would lift off the ground. Green light danced over the walls and flashed through the air.
“Do you see that? That is what I've been doing up here. I've been creating, mother, making something new that everypony can benefit from. Helping my friend.” She slammed a forehoof down at this last word, her aura flaring brighter, and now the loom did lift from the ground, the green glow of Peppermint's magic brighter than the fire, filling the Roundhouse with its light. “Look at my cutiemark.” She turned sideways to show it, a caliper measuring a star, with a mallet in the foreground.
Ms. Tea dropped her own magic, the red light flickering out. “I am your mother,” the red unicorn panted. “I know what your--”
“Look at it!” Ms. Tea squealed as she was dragged across the, her head bent so she was inches away from the mark. “This is my heart, mother! My heart! My calling is to make things that help people and I am going to do it, however and whenever my heart tells me, AND IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT YOU CAN...” the green unicorn started to shake. “You can just...just...”
Everything dropped to the ground and the verdant light which had been blazing forth died away as tears started rolling down Peppermint's face. She wobbled, and Pixelbright shot forward, holding her friend up by leaning into her and looking over at Ms. Tea, who was staring at her daughter as if she had never seen her before. A gentle sunset glow appeared around her horn, and slowly wrapped about her daughter like a blanket. Pixelbright felt her friend's weight lifted partially from her, and a soft warmth coming from the magic. Ms. Tea nodded to Pixelbright and stepped around to nuzzle the tears on her daughter's face, then kiss her forehead. Peppermint tried to pull away, but the motion was half-hearted.
“Honey. Honey.” Ms. Tea said, gently. “Look at my cutiemark.” She turned slightly to show an image of the Tea family mill on her flank. “That mill is my life, just as it was my mother's, and her mother's, who built it. It's where I belong. That work is what makes my heart happy.”
Peppermint started to say something, but her mother silenced her with a nuzzle. “I see you going your own way and I just get so worried about what's going to happen to the mill I love so much,” she continued. “It makes me frightened, and when I get frightened...I say and do things I really shouldn't. And I get worried for you, too, worried that with all the different projects you take on you'll never find something to give you a sense of purpose, to make your way in the world. But this...”
She looked back at the heavily modified loom, gleaming and polished, with its neatly done mechanisms scarcely disturbed by the violent action of the last few moments, then at the lovingly maintained tools and the exquisitely detailed plans lying scattered about. She took in a deep breath and turned back to her daughter. “I see how much work you put into it, the time and care and effort, and....I'm not worried any more. You've found your own path and I should be proud.”
She bumped Peppermint's muzzle up, looking into her daughter's eyes. “I'm sorry. I love you and I want you to be happy. If this makes you happy, then I want you to do it, and to help in any way I can. Can you forgive me?”
With a sob, Peppermint threw her forelegs around her mother in a tight hug, crying uncontrollably. Ms. Tea's face was wet with tears, and Pixelbright reached up to her own face, finding that she was crying too.
“Well frankly I don't see why you didn't just use a music box arrangement from the beginning. Really, Peppermint, you're so clever with gears you should have had one of those as your cutiemark, but you always think you have to reinvent the wheel. There's nothing wrong with using a perfectly good solution if there's one available.”
The large wooden box floated, partially attached to the loom, held there by Pixelbright's orange magic and Ms. Tea's red. Numerous small gears floated in place near a cylinder with projecting stubs, a forest of little spring arms and yet more gears floating below that, held by Peppermint, who was concentrating as she carefully moved collections of them into place, assembling components into the proper arrangements, connecting them to one another, and then putting each array into its proper place. “Yes, mother,” she sighed.
“Really, she always has to take the hard way, that one,” Ms. Tea confided to Pixelbright, as if Peppermint were not less than a yard away. “But, those who forge their own trail find trials and rewards that...oh, something or other. Soul Patch said something clever like that the other day.” Ms Tea sighed, looking off for a moment, and Pixelbright struggled to lift the box up into the right position.
“Mother please!” Peppermint hissed, and Pixelbright couldn't help but giggle.
“Sorry, dear.”
At last everything was in place. The three stepped back to admire their work, which looked like a proud and ancient loom had merged with the largest and most well-made wooden music box in Equestria. A shaft went through the expanded shed and into the mill itself, where it was attached by an arrangement of gears and wheels to the main shaft there. “Ready?” Peppermint looked at Pixelbright, who nodded. She stepped forward and magicked spools of wire into position, then checked a card with her desired settings on it and flipped several levers on the loom. Mechanisms inside clicked firmly into place. She and Peppermint then walked around the machine, checking everything one more time. Peppermint looked worried, but Pixelbright just felt her heart pattering. She knew this would work.
“I guess this is it, isn't it?” Peppermint asked quietly, and Pixelbright nodded, smiling at her friend. “Okay, mom!”
“Okay!” Ms. Tea drew in a deep breath and bellowed, “Let 'er rip, boys!”
Inside the mill, a small team of workers, and a good-sized crowd of onlookers, waited. The team were at their assigned position, and on hearing Ms. Tea's command the lead stallion counted to three, then threw his lever, followed quickly by two others. The gears and wheels engaged, and the leader took a deep breath, pulling out a chock and setting the mill in motion. It began to turn, slowly. The onlookers stepped back. The millstones strained, then started rolling with a low rumble. The new assembly started turning, slowly. The rumble built. Shafts and gears began to turn faster.
Outside, the machine clicked and clunked, and the three unicorns held their held their breath. Then the spools began turning, the shuttles moving, and wire spooled out, slowly at first, then faster and faster, forming a fine mesh that looked like silver cloth.
“It's working!” Ms. Tea hissed, but Peppermint held up a hoof, forestalling her. She watched the progress carefully, then lit her horn and threw a switch, shutting the machine off. Parts spun down and clicks and clunks came from the settling machine. When it was silent, the green unicorn stepped forward. Horn glowing, she lifted a square frame from the loom, finely fashioned wood now scarred by the action of the mechanisms within and lined with countless tiny screws that held the wires in place. Silently, she floated it over to Pixelbright, who noticed that the crowd had now gathered around their shed and seemed to have doubled in size. “Pixelbright. Check it, please.” Peppermint's voice was a whisper.
Pixelbright swung open the door and stepped out into the full light. The gathered ponies made room for her, and she lifted the framed grating up, placing it squarely over the bright disk of the sun. A perfect rainbow blazed forth, lighting her face in all its colors, and a shout went up from the crowd. Just as she thought, the colors repeated on either end. The whole arrangement shifted as she tilted the grating this way and that. “It works,” she said. “It works!”
The crowd was cheered, then began breaking up into a general celebration. They didn't really know what they'd witnessed, or what was all that special about it, but everypony was happy and it was something new to see. Peppermint came up beside her and peered up at the colors. “Good,” she said. “That's the basics. Now we can get started on the real work.”
Pixelbright laughed, and floated the frame down onto a table back in the shed. “Now we can really start answering some questions. Thank you so much, Peppermint!” She hugged her friend tight.
The other unicorn responded with a light sort-of-hug that was more of a tap on the shoulder. “It really wasn't much,” she said. “Now, the modifications I've got in mind, those will be something.” Pixelbright laughed, and Peppermint gave a quiet giggle. “For starters...” The two of them headed down the hill, past ponies congratulating them, toward Pixelbright's workshop and the future.
