“Hellooooooo?” Bitterroot hollered into the town hall. “Tallbush? Anypony?”
As typical, the darkened building gave no response.
“I swear,” Code muttered, adjusting her glasses, “I’ve never seen somepony so hard to get a hold of. It’s like he’s avoiding me.”
“Just you? Not us?” Bitterroot asked.
“You and Amanita run into him from time to time. I haven’t seen him since we left the train on the first day.”
“Hnng.”
“Maybe he’s at the mine,” Code said with a sigh. “Come on. If you want.”
“What the hay. Lead on.”
At least with the mine, you knew exactly where it was: where Midwich Valley was getting zippered up. As Bitterroot and Code crunched southward, following the river, Bitterroot looked up. The sky was clear and the sun was just about ready to poke its rim over the edge. She’d savor the moment. And who knew how big of an impact it had on the ponies who’d been living here their whole lives?
But as the valley narrowed, what little light bounced down from the cliffs was snuffed out and the temperature dropped. Bitterroot shivered slightly. And with the entrance to the mine lying in the deepest black of the darkest part of the valley, that got her thinking. “Code? Sorry if this is obvious to you, but… could mining have soured the ley line?”
“No,” Code said promptly. “At least, not this one. It’s…” She paused for a moment to massage her temples. “Mining is almost purely physical and so rarely causes any sort of damage to ley lines. When it does, it’s not this fast. And it’s always accompanied by some kind of catastrophe that closes the mine down.”
“…Have you… seen that a lot?”
“Not personally, thankfully. But it pops up from time to time in records. Ley sanitation is very well-documented.”
They passed the coal breaker and Midwinter’s house, following a set of cart rails, eventually coming to the mine’s entrance. There was nopony there, but Bitterroot could hear faint sounds of work coming from the uphill tunnel that led inside. She headed into the mine-
-only to immediately get yanked back out on her tail. “Don’t,” Code snapped with a voice that made Bitterroot want to sit down and never move again. “Mines can be some of the most dangerous places in Equestria. If you waltz in without knowing what you’re doing, you could bring all it down on a lot of ponies. There’s a reason we’re asking Tallbush’s permission first.”
“Yes’m,” Bitterroot said reflexively. Part of her suspected Code was exaggerating. But that was a voice in which exaggeration sounded reasonable.
“Stay.” Code turned to the mine and hollered, “OI! Anypony in there? I’d like to talk to somepony!”
The words bounced down the tunnel like a ball down a pipe, the echoes back growing fainter and fainter. Code took a bite of dirt and settled onto her haunches to wait, staring at the shaft.
After a moment, Bitterroot broke the silence. “So what’ll you do if no one comes out?”
“Be enraged,” Code said casually. “Yell again. Bemoan my lack of authority. Lose some self-control. Hopefully not stomp about impotently.”
“Was that last one a problem?”
“When I was younger, it was.”
But a creaking sound prevented Bitterroot from learning more; a set of a few mine carts loaded with coal came rolling out from the tunnel, a small earth pony hanging off the front with a hoof on the brake lever. Smeared with coal dust, she was hard to make out in the combined darkness of the valley and the mine, except for when Bitterroot could see the whites of her eyes and the glare of her helmet’s lamp. As the carts rattled past them, the mare yanked hard on the brake, bringing the array to a halt. “Ye rang?” she asked in a voice that sounded awfully young for this sort of work. And up close, she looked rather skinny in her overalls.
“We’re looking for Tallbush,” Code said. (The mare’s ears flicked upwards.) “We were hoping we could get permission to enter the mine so-”
“I dinnae ken where he is,” the mare said quickly. “An’ he ain’t gonna let ye intae the mine.”
Code grunted and kneaded her forehead. “I’d like to hear it from him. Do you-”
“He- ain’t gonna let ye intae the mine,” the mare said. “No use a-lookin’ fer him.” She released the brake and the carts started rolling away.
Before Bitterroot could respond, Code had hooked a hoof around the rim of the last cart. The train jolted to a halt, the mare nearly slipping off, as Code seemingly exerted no more effort than flipping a pancake to hold how many hundreds of pounds of coal back. “In my experience,” she said, “assuming you know what someone else has to say can only lead to disappointment. I might as well assume Tallbush will simply let us into the mine because we’re working on royal business. But I’d rather know. So I’d very much appreciate it if you could tell me where Tallbush is.”
The mare’s eyes and ears were twitching as she looked Code up and down, like she was thinking quickly. Her tail flicked. Puff after puff of breath wafted from her mouth. But she wasn’t shaking.
“One of you two is wrong about Tallbush will say,” Bitterroot piped up. “Don’t you want to prove that it’s her?”
Smirking, Code twitched in a suppressed snort. The mare looked at Bitterroot like she’d forgotten she was there (she probably had). Then the mare said, in a steady voice, “I dinnae ken where His Grace be. Mebbe he’s in the breaker.” She pointed to the hulking building down by the railyard, a dull gray mass.
“Thank you.” Code released the carts; they trundled down the tracks towards the very building the mare had pointed out.
Bitterroot looked back over her shoulder at the mouth of the mine yawning before her. Was the mare just trying to keep them safe? Or something else? The latter, almost definitely. What, though… That was always the hard part. Too bad she wasn’t in a position where she could poke. Strangers drifting into town could poke easily. Strangers drifting into town as part of a government team could… not. “Going to the breaker, then, Code?”
No response. Code was sitting down, rubbing at her temples again, muttering something as she examined the mine entrance.
Bitterroot cleared her throat. “Hey. Code?”
Code blinked. “Hmm? Oh. I’m sorry, I…” She looked at the entrance to the mine, her ears down. “It’s in there,” she growled. “I can feel it.”
“In your gut or in your hooves?”
“Yes.” Code stood up and flicked her snow from her hooves. “Unfortunately, my gut is also telling me that this is going to be a wild goose chase. It’s a shame some wild geese need to be chased.”
The pair turned around and started walking back down the slope they’d just come up. The concept of traipsing back and forth over familiar ground looking for somepony who always seemed to have just left was familiar to Bitterroot, but it was also the worst part of bounty hunting. Ugh. Hay, at least when her quarry took off into the wilderness, she had some pretty sights to see.
“Wait.” Code suddenly turned aside, walking towards Midwinter’s house. “We might as well get as many viewpoints as possible. I’d hate for the one pony I didn’t ask be the one who knows where he is.”
Fuligin probably didn’t know, but framed like that, Bitterroot didn’t want to make that assumption, either. She trotted after Code.
Code knocked on the door and had barely set her hoof back on the ground when Fuligin cracked open the door just enough to stick his head out. “Hidy, Bitterroot,” he said, “and, uh…” His eyes flicked up and down Code’s body.
“Restricted Code,” she replied. “I-”
“This ain’t gonna be long, is it? I…” Fuligin looked over his shoulder for a second. “I’m mighty busy at the moment.”
“No, it won’t,” Code said, frowning. Her leg twitched as she pawed slightly at the ground. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Tallbush is, would you?”
“Nay, sorry,” Fuligin said. (Bitterroot found herself wondering if his response was too fast, but quickly decided it wasn’t.) “I ain’t seen him taeday an’ couldnae say where he is.” Another over-the-shoulder glance. “Lissen, I, I’m busy, and Midwinter needs my help. Ye really oughta be a-goin’, ye ain’t goin’ tae find him here.”
The muscles in Code’s legs tightened and her ears went straight up. For an instant, Bitterroot thought she was going to claim some sort of authority and push her way in. But the instant passed and Code slackened imperceptibly. “Very well,” she said with a sigh. “Thanks anyway.”
Fuligin nodded and nudged the door an inch closer to shut. “Will ye be needin’ arythin’ else?”
“I don’t believe-”
Gears engaged in Bitterroot’s head and she stepped forward. “Actually, uh, just one more thing. Pyrita was in the mine a few nights ago-”
Fuligin promptly went still.
Statue still.
Bitterroot had seen shock before, but this was something else. It was like Fuligin had been petrified. About a second before she started wondering if he was still breathing, he coughed. “Uh, w-who?” he asked, his voice hitched up a notch.
“Pyrita,” said Bitterroot. She quickly started scanning Fuligin, watching for any more blatant tells. What did he know? “You know, Arrastra’s sister?”
“Right,” Fuligin said in a way that didn’t match his body language. “I ken her. What happened?”
Wait, he didn’t know? “A few mornings ago, Pyrita was found at the entrance to the mine. Maybe she was sleepwalking or something. I was wondering if you’d seen her go up.”
Fuligin blinked twice, did nothing for a moment, then shook his head. His ears were quivering. “Beggin’ yer pardon, but nay, I didnae see her. I, I ain’t seen her in a long time.”
Uh-huh. Sure. “Alright,” Bitterroot said with a shrug. “Thanks, anyway.”
“Mmhmm.” Fuligin nudged the door a little more closed. “They really belong tae do more tae keep mares that age outta the mines.” And then the door was shut, the conversation over.
Bitterroot looked to Code, who clicked her tongue and nodded down the path. Bitterroot managed to keep quiet until they were back in the sunlight, when she hissed to Code, “He didn’t know.”
“About Pyrita? No, he didn’t,” Code whispered back. “Or so he claims.”
“Did you see the way he reacted? He was surprised when I just mentioned her name. He doesn’t know at all.”
“Hmm. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean much.”
“In a town this small?”
“Yes. It’s entirely possible he simply doesn’t get out much and didn’t hear the news.”
“…Do you really believe that?”
“No. But unless it’s relevant to the ley line, it’s best to leave well enough alone. You know how towns like this can get when Canterlot pokes its muzzle in.”
She did, unfortunately. Poke Tratonmane too hard and it’d clam up, possibly denying any further information about the ley line along the way. Bitterroot was a bounty hunter; she wanted to follow threads, but unless any given thread had a clear price tag attached, following it was pointless in the context of her job. (Her curious part tried to point out that she wasn’t on the job at the moment. Her rational part shut it down with a reminder that Amanita, Code, and Charcoal were, and she didn’t want to hinder them.)
There was a steady rumble coming from the coal breaker when they arrived. It was a surprisingly tall building, looming over Bitterroot and Code in a way not unlike the cliffs of Midwich, sprawling up and down the slope like a cat. When Code nudged open a door, a cacophony of work smacked Bitterroot in the face: rumbling conveyor belts, rushing water, rocks shattering in crushers, debris tumbling down metal shafts, the occasional pony yelling at another. When she peeked in, she was confronted with a confusing maze of machinery, conveyors, and pipes twisting about, making it nearly impossible to get light everywhere. Contrary to what Bitterroot had expected, the air was surprisingly clean.
Somehow, Code managed to get the attention of a nearby pony, and they headed outside to talk without the din of coal breaking. At Code’s query on Tallbush, the worker shook his head. “Nay, he ain’t here,” he said. “Ye’d best check the mine.” He pointed.
“He’s not in the mine,” Code said tightly. “That was the second place we checked.”
“Then he’s prolly in the town ha-”
“The town hall was the first place we checked.” Code’s teeth weren’t clenched, technically.
“Have ye checked the forest?” the worker asked quickly. “Tallbush likes tae be certain his ponies are healthful, ’specially the lumberjacks.” He pointed northwards with the force of an arrow from a bow.
“No, we haven’t checked there yet,” Code said. Her voice was more resigned than relieved, mirroring Bitterroot’s own feelings. “Thank you.” The worker nodded and ducked back inside the breaker.
Away they went, north to the forest. Bitterroot was wondering how many times she’d walk over all of Midwich’s streets looking for Tallbuhs when Code sighed. “You know…” She grinned at Bitterroot with a sort of tired exasperation. “I’m a colonel. I miss being able to send out a dozen ponies to find whoever I’m looking for. Having to track down ponies myself was something I got promoted out of.”
“Wimp,” Bitterroot said, smirking. “It happens to me all the time.”
“And that’s why we pay bounty hunters.”
When Amanita had stopped by the Watering Cave, Cabin had said that Charcoal was busy while Bitterroot and Code were up at the mine. Amanita wouldn’t want to be disturbed in the middle of her work, so she left without disturbing Charcoal, whatever she was doing. South to the mine it was. Hopefully she wouldn’t need to go traipsing across all of Midwich to find Code and Bitterroot.
She did not, running into them at the trainyard cliff near the shadow of one of the towers. Bitterroot was looking at her funny, while Code was looking impotent-against-insubordination pouty. It was an excessively rare expression, given how little she experienced insubordination in the first place. “Amanita,” Code said, nodding.
“I’m pretty sure the ley line’s source is in the mine,” Amanita said first thing. Code straightened up and Amanita continued, “I took all the readings and this is the direction the pendulums were swinging in.” She pulled out the map and spread it out before them.
Code didn’t need five seconds of looking it over before she snorted. “Of course,” she muttered. Seeing the look on Amanita’s face, she added, “Not you. It’s… Feh.”
“Tallbush is the only one who can let us into the mine and we don’t know where he is,” said Bitterroot. “Everyone’s giving us different directions.”
“You’d think somepony responsible for a duchy would be easier to find when you want to talk about matters concerning that duchy,” Code growled.
Bitterroot began counting out her items by pawing at the ground. “We looked at the town hall, we looked at the mine, we looked at Midwinter’s house, we looked at the breaker, we’re going to look at the treeline-”
Breaker. That stirred something in Amanita’s head. The metaphysics of mining. She could work with that, maybe. But the mine itself would be a better place to start. If they could get in.
“-we really don’t know where he is,” Bitterroot finished.
“I wonder if I could pull rank to get us in,” Code muttered. “We know the line’s source is in the mine, we’re here to fix the line…” She snorted and shook her head. “But that’s the Elemental option when all else fails. Maybe, maybe we can find him. Amanita, you and I need to comb the town. Find out just where Tallbush is hiding.”
Bitterroot looked closely at Code, then said, “I can help. Just, you know, a basic search pattern.” She flicked a hoof through the air and made whistling noises. “I kinda have a history of looking for ponies.”
Amanita didn’t think much of it, but Code boggled. Code boggled. “What is up with you?” she asked. “You’re not getting paid for any of this.”
Bitterroot just shrugged. “I’ve gone on plenty of hunts where my quarry slipped away and I didn’t get the reward. I’m used to this.”
“Then, thanks. Do whatever you think is best.” Bitterroot saluted and took off. Code turned to Amanita. “How do you want to do this?”
Splitting up searching? How was she supposed to know that? Amanita floundered for a second, then said, “Uh… I’ll take the north half of town, you take the south half?”
Code nodded. “Sounds good. And if…” She squinted up at the sun. “If the sun hits the western cliffs before you find him, you can return to the inn. We still need to know what Charcoal learned.”
At least “sun hits western cliffs” was something she could work with and not a specific hour. “Okay,” Amanita replied. “I’ll… see you later, then.”
“See you later. Oh, and thanks for checking the geothaumometers. You also checked the reservoirs, right?”
“Of course.”
“Great. If we can get Tallbush to let us in, we may finally make some decent headway on this.”
But they’d gone hunting for Tallbush before. As Amanita walked north, she noted that that was a surprisingly big “if”.
After lunch, Bitterroot decided. She’d talk to Amanita after lunch. Within the hour after lunch, not any other sort of after lunch. She’d’ve done it right then, but Code was getting a Look on her face. A “this really really needs to be done NOW” look that wouldn’t brook any deviation from that getting done. Not that Bitterroot could blame her, faced with the hassle of hunting down somepony who ought to be readily available. (Still, part of the reason Bitterroot liked being a bounty hunter was the ability to be her own boss.) If all went according to plan, finding Tallbush quicker would let her talk to Amanita quicker. Which, naturally, meant she wouldn’t be the one to find Tallbush, but it was the principle of the thing.
Soaring through the air, Bitterroot started with a basic grid search pattern. Not something she did a lot, but only because it was an obvious search method and criminals on the run would be on the lookout for pegasi flying like that. But when you wanted the pony to notice you… Good thing the pattern was simple enough that Bitterroot could recall it in her sleep.
Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. It sure was lucky that she was doing this at around noon, with sunlight reaching the valley floor. But although she could pick out pony after pony in the streets, none of those was the pony she needed. It didn’t seem fair; bounties were trying to hide and often good at it — that was the whole reason she got paid when she brought them in — but Tallbush was a pony you were supposed to find and talk to, and… yeesh. Imagine if he acted like this with his actual citizens, disappearing into the aether whenever somepony had a question.
Back and forth and back and forth and suddenly she wasn’t above Tratonmane anymore; the buildings had given way to fields and open space that technically qualified as farmland. Seen in the full light of day, it was surprisingly expanse, even close to pleasant. Of course, the open space also provided less places to hide. Bitterroot began making long, quick swoops over the valley, scanning it for Tallbush. Farmers, lumberjacks, some foals playing in the fields… No sign of Tallbush. Hrrng.
Midwich Forest crept in like a rattlesnake, suddenly there in a way that made Bitterroot hiss and backpedal as she could. The line between Tratonmane’s lands and the forest was as strong as it’d been in the dark, sharp enough to look more like the work of a reality-warping cartographer than anything natural. The trees didn’t look any more friendly in the daylight, either; it was like something was off about their color, but Bitterroot couldn’t say what.
“ ’Scuse me.”
Bitterroot pivoted around in the air. Whippletree was hovering not too far from her, a look of concern on his face. “Ye’re… feelin’ alright, right?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure,” said Bitterroot. She briefly looked down again. “I wasn’t going into Midwich. I was looking for Tallbush and lost track of where I was.”
“Right.” Whippletree coughed. “Well, beggin’ yer pardon, but ye’re a-makin’ me mighty nervous. Ye can disappear intae Midwich an’ leave narythin’ behind if’n y’ain’t careful.”
“I thought being above-”
“Ye ought tae be safe,” Whippletree admitted. “It’s jes’ me.” He looked off, down the valley. “Years ago, when I was a new stallion, one o’ my friends an’ me joined the militia. An’ us tyros, we were doin’ a sweep o’ the treeline.” His voice dropped a little and the breeze started taking the quieter parts away. “We made bad trash o’ procedure, split up tae cover more ground, an’… an’ a minute later, she was gone. Never found what taked her.”
Bitterroot shivered and angled her flapping to take her southward. Just a little. “Dang. I’m sorry.”
“It’s… It’s a terrible awful feelin’, kennin’ ye’re the last pony tae see someone alive. So jes’- Jes’ dinnae be a moldwarp, alright? Utilize yer brain matter an’ dinnae be sumphish.”
“…That means ‘don’t be stupid’, right?”
Whippletree cracked a grin for a second, then broke out in a deep laugh. “Ha! Aye, that’s what it means. Forgot our words ain’t yer words. But if’n ye can put all that taegether, ye ain’t the type tae be sumphish.”
“Could you make me less sumphish and tell me where Tallbush is?”
“Ach, sorry, but I dinnae ken where he is.” (Bitterroot clamped her jaw shut on a sigh.) “Arythin’ else?”
“No, thanks.”
“Alrighty. Stay safe.” Whippletree saluted and wheeled back towards Tratonmane with more grace than Bitterroot could ever hope for, particularly when he pivoted back to face her. “And, eh, I beg yer pardon fer that… firs’ night. Again.”
Bitterroot raised an eyebrow. “You’re still thinking about that?”
“It’s- I was a real tin-hoof an’… an’ I shouldnae have done it an’ I dinnae ken why I did it!” Whippletree protested. “What if-” Gulp. “What if somethin’s wrong wi’ me?” he asked quietly.
“Then something’s wrong with me, too, because I don’t care,” Bitterroot said. “Have you experienced anything like it before?”
One of Whippletree’s ears twitched. After a second, he shook his head.
“What about since?”
Headshake.
“Then don’t worry about it! One bad night, that’s all it was.”
“Mebbe,” Whippletree said doubtfully. “But, eh… thankee.” He gave a small smile, then flew off towards Tratonmane.
Whippletree’s denial of knowing where Tallbush was weighed on Bitterroot just as heavily as the first night had weighed on him. At what point did the repeated assertions of not knowing where your duke was turn suspicious? Bitterroot was suspecting both that she’d passed that point recently and that she was being a wee bit paranoid. But there was nothing she could do about it.
She rotated in the air again, looking back over Midwich Forest and the valley zooming northward. The trees blanketed the ground with a sea of gnarled, leafless branches swaying in the wind, almost monotone; without the cliffs hemming you in, it’d be easy to get lost. There weren’t even many landmarks, from what she could see: small rolling hills, some slight gaps where the river ran, a clearing at the bottom of one of the walls, a spot where the trees climbed further up than-
An unusually cold gust of air (cold even for Midwich) stabbed the inside of Bitterroot’s windpipe and she coughed. The rapid influx of cold air made it worse and Bitterroot quickly dropped down to the ground, in the empty space outside the forest. She banged her chest to get it out of her system. It was amazing, the way a sudden cough could mess with your flapping enough to potentially let you fall from the sky and kill you if you weren’t careful. Flying was dangerous.
A familiar buzz rattled her eardrums: a… chainsaw? …Definitely a chainsaw. Huh. Following the sound led her to Crosscut’s lumberjack crew, further west than they’d been earlier, hacking away at trees. Or at least a portion of her crew; there seemed to be about half as many as there’d been before. Maybe they were working at a sawmill. Crosscut was the pony with the chainsaw, cutting thick branches off a fallen tree while the other lumberjacks worked on felling more.
As Bitterroot approached, Crosscut turned off the chainsaw. She pushed a set of protective goggles up onto her forehead and waved away the sawdust. “What dae ye need?” she asked.
“Well, I-” A fleck of dust flew into Bitterroot’s throat and her words were cut off by a coughing fit. “How,” she wheezed once she got her breathing back under control, “how do you get chainsaws out here?” She realized that was poorly phrased a second after she said it.
Fortunately, Crosscut didn’t seem to care. “Tallbush asks us if’n we need arythin’,” she said casually. “Vittles, gear, everwhat. Next time he licks it tae Waypoint, he sees if’n he can find what we want or somethin’ that fits. If he does, he buys it fer us an’ we pay him back.” Shrug. “Easy.”
Well. Easily-abused was Bitterroot’s first thought. Her second one, too. “And Tallbush is the one to tell you how much you owe?”
Crosscut’s eyes narrowed slightly. “His Grace ain’t the type tae stiff us, if’n that’s what ye’re askin’, flatlander,” she said. “Shows us the receipts an’ all.”
“Speaking of Tallbush,” Bitterroot said quickly, “you wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you? We’re trying to get into the mine so we can study the source of the ley line.”
“He ain’t gonna let you’uns in,” Crosscut said like she was explaining that water was wet. “Too dangerous.”
“I’d like to hear it from him,” Bitterroot replied.
Crosscut gave Bitterroot a Look, then looked up at the sun. After a moment, she said, “He’s usually out an’ about right now, cannae say where ye might find him, but he ought tae be at the hall in… an hour. Give or take.”
“You’re sure? Everypony says he’ll be at such-and-such, but he never is.”
“He’s ever at the town hall at that time,” Crosscut replied, a bit darkly. “Ever.” She pulled down her goggles and started the chainsaw up again.
To be fair, this was the first time Bitterroot had heard anything like “definitely” rather than “eh, maybe?”, so maybe it would actually be true this time. Maybe. “Thanks. I’ll let Code know.”
The saw came to a stop just above the bark. Crosscut turned to Bitterroot and said, “Ye dae that.” Then she pressed the saw to the log, sending up a scream of wood being shredded.
But maybe Bitterroot wouldn’t have to do that. There was time for another swing over Tratonmane. Maybe Tallbush would pop up. And maybe she’d win the lottery when she got back to Canterlot. Nevertheless, Bitterroot flared her wings and took to the sky again.
Amanita was many things. A skilled ponyfinder was not one of them.
Once she split from Bitterroot and Code, she was left traipsing up and down Tratonmane’s streets, looking for Tallbush. There weren’t many ponies around, even when she risked knocking on doors; everypony seemed to have gone to work. The few townsponies she met gave her brusque looks and brusquer responses. None of them claimed to know where Tallbush was.
“Look, this is urgent, we need-”
“An’ that ain’t goin’ tae change what I dinnae ken.”
Amanita began categorizing them: the ones who just grunted “no” at her, the ones who said the same thing with more words again, and the ones who really felt the need to rub in that they weren’t going to help her and were probably picking the right insult for her before the conversation ended and she walked away. She could’ve forgiven it all if one of them, just one, pointed her at Tallbush.
“C’mon, I can’t-”
“Ain’t my problem if’n he ain’t here. Scram, Canterlout.”
Amanita slipped into automatic as she gathered responses and began examining their colors in the noonlight. They still didn’t know who the thief from yesterday was. Not a single lick of info. At least she slept well. (Or was that a bad thing?) If she knew what a pony was going to respond a certain way, she might as well check their colors. And yet, pegasi whose wing colors didn’t match the rest of them were rare enough that she never ran into one, let alone one with the colors she was looking for.
“Are you sure you don’t-”
“Eeyup.”
And so, even though she was grid-patterning the town, Amanita’s search took less time than she expected. She soon reached the town square with the Great Ash for the second time that search. In the light, the Ash nearly looked beautiful even dead, with its branches twisting towards the sky in complex patterns. It would’ve been downright gorgeous if it still had leaves.
Amanita shook her head and looked around the square. No ponies, but she was drawn to the town hall. Where Tallbush was supposed to be but never was. …Eh, she was already here. Worth a shot.
Tratonmane was bright for once, but with the windows boarded up, the town hall was still as black as a pit when she peeked in. The contrast changed the darkness, turning it to a physical thing she’d have to struggle through as it pushed in around her. It was certainly doing a fine job of keeping her out. Amanita swallowed and reached for her magic.
The second she lit her horn, the feeling flipped. Far from being too claustrophobic, too tight, the empty space and looming shadows now were ready to swallow her up, like there was something lurking in them. She took a few steps forward; her hooves were muffled by her furs, yet the sound still echoed in the artificial cavern. She swallowed again and yelled, “Hello?”
A multitude of voices echoed back, all of them and none of them belonging to her. This sort of place was meant to hold the entire town and her, an outsider, being there alone felt wrong. None of the voices belonged to Tallbush; Amanita waited a moment more, and when he didn’t turn up, decided it was okay if she just left. So she did.
What time was it? Amanita squinted up. The sun seemed to be just touching the western cliffs, but it was still shining full-bore down into Midwich; the contrast between it and the darkness of the town hall was astounding. But it seemed to be… 1-ish? (Seriously, why hadn’t she brought a watch?) Maybe a little later. Code had said she could stop now. She could go back to the Watering Cave, meet up with the rest of the team. And get lunch. Lunch was nice.
As she approached the Cave, Midwinter came sauntering out, whistling. Her coat shimmered mesmerizingly in the sunlight, her mane practically sparkled, and the gem in her necklace gleamed. Seeing Amanita, she approached and nodded back towards the Cave. “Your friend, Charcoal? She’s… a rather interesting mare.”
Amanita nodded. “She is.”
“I do wish I could get to know her better, truly,” Midwinter mused. “But you shall be gone from here in a few days. Ah, well.” She threw Amanita a sort of friendly salute. “Best of luck to all of you, and may you leave us well enough alone!” She immediately walked off, whistling again.
Amanita decided to take that as a friendly jibe. She took a step for the Cave, only to turn back. “Hey, uh, Midwinter?”
Midwinter stopped walking and looked over her shoulder with mild interest.
“Have you ever been in the mine?”
Midwinter blinked and her ears twitched forward. “Why?”
“I was just wondering if you’d seen anything weird in there. We might be going in to examine the ley line.”
Another blink, then Midwinter shook her head. “No. I have never seen such a thing.”
“Alright. Thanks, anyway.”
Assuming Midwinter was telling the truth.
Amanita stepped into the Cave’s common room. Even if the place hadn’t been empty except for Carnelian pouting in the darkest corner, Charcoal would’ve been obvious, sitting at a table in the middle of the room with what looked like a dozen sheets of parchment and paper before her, as well as a bottle of ink. She was deeply invested in one of the scrolls, carefully examining it as she treated the quill in her mouth like it was a tree and she was a beaver. As Amanita slid into the chair across from her, she waved without saying anything or looking away.
“That’s the plumbing stuff, right?” Amanita asked.
Charcoal’s only response was a nod and a look at the next line down.
“Good info?”
Charcoal moved the scroll aside so she could grin. “Hoo yeah. Very good info. Them being so angry at me wanting to take a look at it makes sense now.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. This actually is really good. Imagine-” Charcoal’s ears twitched and she looked around. The room was empty, but she lowered her voice anyway. “Imagine if someone walked up to you,” she whispered, “and asked if you really knew necromancy. And they even told you they didn’t know necromancy, but they weren’t so sure you did, either.”
Amanita had a sudden, intense vision of stabbing Princess Twilight to death, then resurrecting her, purely to spite some minor know-it-all noble. It was shockingly satisfying. “…Yeah. I can see that.”
“Sure, they could’ve been nicer about it, but I don’t blame them. The complicated stuff is the right sort of complicated. Like, right down here…” Charcoal shuffled towards the end of the scroll. “…they’re talking about waste and graywater treatment-”
Amanita’s stomach wobbled. Funny how she could deal with blood and guts just fine, but something as simple as poop made her queasy. “Is it really a good idea to talk about it now?”
Charcoal blinked and examined the scroll for a moment. “You’re right, bad idea,” she said. “Let’s wait for Code and Bitterroot so we can get lunch first.”
This was vengeance for the bear. Amanita was sure of it.