//------------------------------//
// Chapter 5 
// Story: Frost from Fire 
// by The Calm and the Quiet 
//------------------------------//

	It certainly wasn’t the first crime scene Ghostwriter had been to, but it had the smallest body.
Slipstream was on the floor on her belly, legs outstretched. Her wings were flat out on the ground next to her, as if she were trying to take flight when they got her. The wound was a deep stab on her chest, right in the heart. Blood from them formed a puddle beneath her. She was facing the window, one hoof reaching.
The expression on her face was half-lidded joy, like she were seeing the sun for the first time.
Ghost shivered as he watched the Guard go about their business, drawing sketches of the body, taking statements from witnesses, investigating Slipstream’s small, dark room. The window was open, the draft sharp. It cut into his coat and to his skin, claws of ice down his spine.
Valiant was trying to help where he could, talking to the captains about the arrival of General Arbiter. Sir Cypress was staring at the room like he wasn’t seeing it, his eyes unfocused.
Tyto was in the corner sitting on a crate, his head in his paws. He’d been the first to arrive, to force open the door, so it was he that Ghost had to talk to first.
Ghost sighed. It was time to work.
When he approached, Tyto looked up. His eyes were red. Wiping a claw beneath them both, he said, “What do you want? My statement?”
“Yes.” Ghost was surprised he’d caught on so quickly.
Tyto sniffed. “Can’t I have a moment? She’s dead.”
“She’s been dead since around midnight, Galdr said. A few hours after we’d left.”
Tyto winced. “Thanks for reminding me. Want to twist it in a little more? I should have been here. I should never have left her when she was that upset. And now she’s dead.” He looked past Ghost’s shoulder. A unicorn was lifting a sheet over Slipstream, covering her up. The body looked very small. Tyto took in a shuddering breath.
Ghost’s quill and parchment were out. “Tyto.”
“Fine. Fine.” He took in a more stable breath, holding it for a second, then blew it out. It was hot, like just those few seconds close to his fiery belly had heated it. “Do I need to cover yesterday when you were there?”
“No. Start with this morning.”
“All right.” Tyto nodded. He wrapped his arms around his knees, curling his tail close. “I awoke with the Guard. I heard murmurs of an incident. Somepony smelled blood in the upstairs hall.”
The quill danced. “Go on.”
“I had suspicions that it was Slipstream after her odd behavior. I flew up the elevator shaft until I got to her room. I forced it open and found her d…dead. In a pool of blood.”
“You forced the door? It was still locked?”
“Yes.”
More scratching on the parchment. “And the window?”
“Closed. But I found feathers in it.”
Ahh. Ghost looked up. “You didn’t say that earlier.”
Tyto glared. “You told me to start with this morning.”
“Where are the feathers?”
“I gave most of them to the Guard. But I still have one.” He uncurled his paw. Ghost leaned in.
It was a pegasine feather, light green and fringed at the base with fluff, banded in a deeper hue. The tip was jet-black.
Ghost took it with magic and brought it closer. “We’ll have to match it to the pegasi here.”
“They already did. No match.” He bared his teeth, rows and rows of sharp fangs. “They came from outside.”
Ghost stopped writing. He put his quill and parchment back, thinking. The wound on Slipstream looked very similarly to that that had killed Lord Frosthoof. Deep, thin, no serration. A clean cut straight to the heart. Professional.
Can they be the same? His concerns that they were Nightmare Moon’s influence somehow intensified. Either the evil princess was back or somepony had gone about murdering ponies from all over Equestria. Umbertown and Canterlot and now here, the Sky Barracks of the Heart.
What seemed odd was that his two suspicions had crossed now. Eglantine’s friend, the only lead they had, was dead now, killed by the same means as the mystery murders of Canterlot. What did it mean?
Ghost felt like he was getting too close to something dangerous, something more deadly than writing about nobles and soldiers and foreign lands.
The proceedings at the crime scene were almost up now. Ghost left the room and headed back to the elevator. He almost didn’t notice Sir Cypress slide into the elevator with him, silent as ever.
From outside, he thought, as the young pegasus brought them down. Then let’s see what’s outside, shall we?
Slipstream’s window faced the Heart. Now it was open to flood out the smell of blood, but it had been closed when Tyto had discovered her. The tenth floor looked like a speck from all the way down here.
Ghost looked at the ground. No hoofprints. Nothing but the scrabbling marks of a squirrel or some other small creature.
Cypress’s hooves came into view. “Pegasus,” he said.
“I know.” Ghost took a deep breath, looking ahead. “They came from the Everfree.”
In the early morning light, it didn’t look ominous. It looked ancient. Roots had begun to reclaim the Barracks. They climbed up the corner of the building like claws, all the way up to the eighth floor. From within the forest came the sound of waking things, of hunters, of things that climbed and things that flew.
Cypress followed his gaze, a grim look on his face. “Hard to fly.”
“Doesn’t mean they can’t. Strikers fly in there all the time. That’s their job.”
“Not a Striker.”
“I know that,” Ghost said sourly. “But who? That’s what I want to know.”
Sir Cypress, characteristically, did not answer.
Ghost moved on. He trotted a few lengths into the forest itself, stopping in the spare space between two massive trees. Sir Cypress couldn’t fit properly—he waited behind, watching with vigilant eyes as Ghost poked around, reaching out with his magic for any trace of life.
He craned back his neck. Above the sky was still gray with dawn. But there was space between the branches. A channel. Just as there were pathways on the ground through the Everfree, there were some in the sky. The forest must be veined with them, Ghost thought.
“Sir Cypress,” he said.
Branches snapped as the knight shoved his way forward. His green shoulders were streaked with sap, his armor pasted with leaves. He paused by Ghost’s side, his breath clouds of white in the early morning air.
Ghost tipped his head, still studying the sky. “Answer me this,” he said. “How do you catch something that doesn’t touch the ground?”
Cypress chewed his words for a moment, jaw working. A look of speculation came into his eyes that Ghost liked. Calculation. “A net.”
As it turned out, the Sky Barracks did not lack for rope. The Guard procured enough to lash a fleet of ships to the docks of Canterlot. What they did lack for were unicorns, so Ghost had to make do with Galdr and Orion, the two Solar Guard. The most difficult part of the whole operation was getting Valiant to focus.
Ghost watched as he fumed and stomped, his horn beginning to spark. “They came into the Barracks,” he spat. “Into a military establishment. Right past the Guard.”
“Yes, we know.” Ghost tugged at a tricky bit of rope. Lifting it, he seared the frayed end with his magic, sealing it back into one piece: blackened, but no longer tattered.
The net was going along swimmingly. Captain Stratos had his pegasi grab the ends and take flight, pulling the sections tightly together. There needed to be space between the ropes to trick the pegasus invader into flying straight ahead, but not enough that he could escape.
But if he was smart enough to avoid the Guard, he’s smart enough to avoid a net. It’s almost sophomoric to catch a pony this way. This is how you catch problematic rabbits in cabbage fields. Ghost nodded to Stratos and his pegasi flew off again, tugging the ropes taut.
Valiant wouldn’t be calmed. He snorted, glowering at the hooves, the rope, anypony who dared come close. “We need to scout into the forest and attack,” he said. “I’ll ask General Arbiter. Surely he’ll let me go. I’m a Cadet Athame.”
“Which means little,” Tyto said. He had a spool of rope in his lap and was undoing the knots with his quick, nimble claws.
Valiant looked taken aback. “Only the best war unicorns are chosen to be Athames.”
“Knight Athames,” Tyto corrected. He stopped his work and looked up. There was a dullness in his eyes that hadn’t disappeared since he found Slipstream. “You’re not there yet, Valiant.”
“I’m close! I’m one tier away!”
“So you’re the bottom of the top. Congratulations.” Tyto returned to his work, leaving Valiant fuming more than ever. Behind him, Sir Cypress smiled his small smile, returning his gaze to the forest.
It didn’t matter. A fanfare leapt up above the sound of working ponies, and General Arbiter made his appearance.
He was a white unicorn with a black-and-white mane. His cutie mark was a black chess-piece. A king, Ghost noted. How interesting. Around him came his company of Solar Guard, most of them earthpony soldiers, though one war unicorn was with them, a brown with a black mane and a sour expression.
Arbiter came to a stop. “I wish to speak to whoever’s in charge.”
Captain Stratos looked around for a moment, like he was waiting for somepony else to speak up. “I suppose I am.”
Arbiter looked at him. “And you are?”
“Captain Stratos, sir. Of the Air Strikers, Sun Gate Division.”
“Hmm.” Arbiter looked neither impressed nor disappointed. “I’ve been told there was a murder. I’d like to investigate. Dame Starra? If you wouldn’t mind going on ahead.”
The brown unicorn blinked. Then she bent her head. “Yes, my lord.” She disappeared into the Barracks with a clank of plate armor. Two Solar Guard went with her, including Galdr. He already had his head bent to hers, going over the details.
Valiant sucked in a breath. Hissing in Ghost’s ear, he said, “That’s Dame Starra, Knight Athame of the Royal Court of the Sun. She’s a legend. They say she blasted an entire pack of timberwolves to splinters when she was only sixteen. The Princess knighted her right then and there. Celestia’s hooves, I wish I had been there to see it.”
“Sounds like something,” Ghost said. Knight Athames had always been Valiant’s solitary point of interest. As foals, he’d never shut up about it. In their games Valiant would be Sir Stormbreaker, the only unicorn who had outlasted the siege of the dragon Kolarrus. After some choosiness, he’d let Ghost be Sir Vermilion, a unicorn knighted for his tactics in taking back the more savage parts of the Everfree. Valiant had meant it as a smaller step, something to better illuminate his own greatness, a statuette at the feet of a mighty tower. But Vermilion had used his brain to win. He wasn’t big or powerful. He wasn’t a seven-pointer like Stormbreaker. But he’d still won. He’d still reached the same heights as a stallion three times his size.  
Starra returned. After some meeting between herself and Arbiter, the two came over. Arbiter trod right over the net, pulling the knots loose.
Ghost felt a prickle of annoyance. “Watch your step.”
Arbiter started. “Watch your tongue,” he said. “Don’t you know who I am?”
“General Arbiter, Commander of the Reconstruction of the Castle of the Two Sisters, formerly one of the Great Five Generals of the Royal Court of the Sun, and a member of the Princess’s inner circle.”
A panicked look crossed Valiant’s face. He was mouthing something frantically. My lord. My lord. My lord.
Ghost traced the shape and realized his mistake. Some ponies are so touchy about niceties. “My lord.”
Outrage clouded his face. “Formerly? I was allowed leave for this objective as a personal favor, to finish a project for Princess Celestia herself.”
Ghost sighed. He set down his ropes. “Shall I offer my congratulations? You have them. Now please move off the net. I’m trying to finish it.”
Arbiter swung his head around to Stratos. “You’re going to let your soldier speak to me this way?”
“He’s not my soldier,” Stratos said, looking like he very much wanted to sink into the floor.
“Then I demand to see his superior officer. I want him court-martialed!’
It must be difficult to hear a voice of dissent when all you’re used to is mindless, pampering braying. From Ghost’s investigations in the Tower, he knew General Arbiter had come to power from a lord for a father, not his tactics in battle. Tyto’s words came back to him: More ponies could do away with this idea of position by birth instead of battle. In the old days, captains were up-jumped recruits from nowhere towns. Now they’re all bluebloods.
“You’ll be disappointed to find that I’m unenlisted,” Ghost said. “If you must know, I’m a Scribe. So you can file my court-martial to Quickquill of the Tower. She can add it to the pile.”
Arbiter laughed once. It wasn’t a humorous sound. “A Scribe. Wonderful. And what does Canterlot think of these murders?”
“I don’t know about Canterlot. I’m making my own investigation.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’ll see when it comes out in the papers. If you read the papers. My lord.” If you can read at all, you old mule.
Arbiter wavered. It looked like he wanted to say something more, but the thinly-veiled insult was obvious even to a complete dunderhead. “Captain Stratos, I am taking over this investigation. I want all evidence you’ve collected as well as a complete list of all ponies who were in this area. We will conduct our interrogations as the facts add up.”
“Of course, my lord.” Stratos kept his smile up as Arbiter entered the Barracks, but it faded the instant he turned back. “Cadet Valiant, control your brother. I’ve been lenient, but I can only be so patient. General Arbiter is a very powerful pony. He has powerful friends. And a powerful temper. He can bring the hammer down on the Sky Barracks from any slight he wishes.”
“I don’t wish any ill-will towards the Barracks. You’ve been helpful to us. We owe you.”
Stratos looked like he was chewing something. “Then keep your mouths shut and finish your forsaken nets.” He spread his wings and flew into the Barracks. The rest of his pegasi followed suit.
As soon as he was gone, Valiant gave Ghost a sour look. “That was my chance to impress Arbiter. How am I supposed to become Knight Athame now?”
“My guess would be to show him your bragging skills. Surely that’s worth a knighthood.” When Valiant didn’t even give him a sympathy smile, Ghost sighed. “What do you want me to say?”
“‘Sorry,’ maybe? You embarrassed me!”
“Why would you want to impress such an awful pony?” Ghost looked up at him. “He doesn’t have any influence over knighting anypony. He’s just a general. If you need to impress somepony, you need to aim for Celestia.”
“Princess Celestia,” Valiant corrected sharply. “And how would you imagine I go about that? We’re out in the middle of the Everfree!”
“On a mission you suggested I take.” Frustrated, Ghost dropped the ropes. “What do you expect me to do, Valiant? I’m doing the best I can. I’m doing the job you wanted me to. A favor to you. Why do you care how I go about it?”
“I expect you to respect authority. I know that’s not your strong suit.” Valiant closed his eyes and sighed. “I don’t want to fight, Ghost. I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m tired and annoyed and sad. A young pony is dead. I don’t know what to do. I know you. I know how you are. And I know I can’t change you—Goddess knows I’ve tried—so I just have to deal with you. But you have to shape up. If you can’t speak politely to these ponies, then don’t say anything. All right? Can you do that for me?”
Ghost glared at the ground. “I’m not a foal. I’m not your little brother anymore, you know.”
“I know you’re not a foal.” He smiled. “But you’ll always be my little brother.” He hooked a hoof around Ghost’s shoulders. “Now let’s catch a pegasus.”



The net was completed and hung just before sunset. Ghost stared up at it from the ground. It was hard to see it, dark as the sky was. Captain Stratos had made sure his pegasi tied it tight at the edges and loose in the middle. Anything that hit it would be snared up tighter than a rabbit. Ghost had rigged it with an alert spell. Anything that got tangled up would light up his horn. He’d know immediately.
Now all they had to do was wait.
To pass the time, Ghost had brought out his old chess set. He and Valiant had played too many games to count on this same board. The pieces were all worn down past the paint. On some, you could see the wood beneath, dark and hard.
There was no telling if the pegasus would even come back so soon. Murderers returned to the scene of the crime, that was true. But was this a true murderer? Or was it Nightmare Moon?
The silver mare. Ghost twirled a rook listlessly, only half his mind on the game. My only clue. Slipstream’s final fear.
Nightmare Moon was not silver. She was black with a blue ethereal mane. That much he knew from tapestries and all the old records, kept from ponies now either old or dead. Past Scribes. It seemed that that hypothesis was, for now, out the window.
The green feather. A silver mare would not have green feathers. Pegasi feathers match their coats. The rook snapped upright. So perhaps we might yet catch ourselves a killer. But who is the silver mare?
“Are you going to move or not?” Valiant’s voice broke into Ghost’s concentration like a firework.
Ghost blinked. Valiant was staring at him. On his left, so was Sir Cypress, who was watching the game with interest. Tyto lay with his back facing them in his own bunk, nothing more than a shadow.
“Uh, yes. Sorry.” He put the rook on the board, next to Valiant’s king. “Check.”
Valiant’s brows furrowed. He stared at the board like he was trying to read in the dark, his eyes squinted.
He slid his blue magic around the king and moved it to the right.
“You can’t. It’s still in check.”
“Where?”
“There. With my knight.”
“Fine,” Valiant said, getting frustrated. He moved the king back.
“You have to move it out of the path of the rook. Rooks go in straight lines.”
“I know how rooks go,” he snapped. He moved the king back at an angle: the only available option.
And the one Ghost had been waiting for. He slid a bishop up, pinning the king between it and another knight. “Checkmate.”
“Huh? No, what about—” Valiant’s frown increased as he realized he couldn’t win. With a grunt of irritation, he flipped the board, sending the pieces scattering. He put his chin on his hoof. “Who cares. It’s just a stupid game.”
Ghost had been prepared: as soon as Valiant had made to move, he’d reached out with his magic. Every piece now soaked in his pale green magic, he pulled them back in, arranging them back in the box.
He snapped the box shut and stored it in his pocket dimension. “That’s about four hundred to zero.”
“Hey, four hundred to one. Remember that time you overextended your magic and had the flu for like two weeks? I won then.”
“You probably cheated and I couldn’t tell on account of my splitting headache and my slipping into unconsciousness several times during the match.”
Valiant sat back and folded his forehooves across his chest. “Excuses, excuses. You just don’t like to lose.”
Ghost gave him a look. “I wonder who that sounds like.”
Valiant rolled his eyes. “What’s next? Cards? Cy, why don’t you play with us? What about you, Tyto?”
Tyto didn’t move. “No thanks,” he said, voice muffled.
Valiant shrugged. “More fun for us and less for you. Deal out, Ghost. I’ll teach you how to really lose at games.”
After what felt like twenty rounds of cards, the group started to fall asleep. Valiant was the first, dozing off at the table, a card pasted to the side of his face. His soft snores filled the room.
Ghost held on, waiting for that flare on his horn to tell him something was in the net. He blinked his sticky eyes, the suits and numbers all blending together.
Cypress looked at his cards. “Fives.”
Ghost flipped two fives over to him. “Jacks?”
He shook his head.
Ghost yawned, reshuffling his cards. This was taking so long. If only it would be over so they could move onto the next step. He hated stagnating like this.
It was Cypress’s turn but he didn’t speak up. He was still staring at his cards, his mouth working.
Ghost had half-given up on playing cards when the knight finally spoke. “What do you think?”
Ghost blinked his eyes back open. “Of what?”
He nodded to the window. It was dark outside. The moon had a shadow across it, a good sized slice of the face missing. The Mare in the Moon had no tip to her horn.
Ghost set down his cards with a sigh. “It’s a mess. I’d have preferred if our only lead hadn’t upped and died on us.” Before Cypress even had time to rebuke him, Ghost realized what he’d said. “I didn’t mean that. I meant that it would be better if Slipstream were still—”
Across the room, he saw Tyto’s shoulder tense. They weren’t the only ones awake.
Cypress sighed. “She was young. Too young.”
Ghost nodded, a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe it was from lack of sleep. Maybe it was something else. “We’ll do what we can. If this doesn’t lead anywhere, then I don’t know what we’ll do.” He ran a hoof through his mane, propping it up against his horn. It was warm from holding the alert spell for so many hours. “Maybe go back to Canterlot. Try to figure it out there. There’s got to be more to these kidnappings. It’s too much of a stretch to think they’re not related to the murders.”
He went over it in his head. Juniper Shine and Slipstream came from the same place and both were murdered. Eglantine was stolen from there, too. Maybe she’s been murdered too and we just haven’t found the body. He closed his eyes. Flour Dust was from Canterlot. So was Periwinkle. But they had nothing to do with each other. Flour Dust was just a baker. Periwinkle was a soldier. Apples and oranges.
It was infuriating. No case had ever stumped him so much. The Mystery in Maneco was one of his trickier investigations and he’d solved even that. If he could find out who had stolen the Lord of Maneco’s precious diamond crown, couldn’t he figure out who had killed four innocents and	 stolen more foals?
Foals. Ghost’s eyes blinked open. He stood and went to his bunk, teetering on sleepy legs.
“Ghost?” Valiant lifted his head. “What’s wrong?”
From within his satchel, he pulled the notes Bluebell had sent him.
Valiant had come up next to him, rubbing one eye. “What’s that? The missing foals list?”
Ghost didn’t answer. He was scanning down the list.
Two fillies. Myrtle and Maize. A unicorn and an earthpony, both from Canterlot.
“Sir Cypress,” he said, setting down the page. “You said you knew Periwinkle.”
“I did.”
Ghost closed his eyes slowly. How did I not see? How could I have missed this? “Did she ever mention her family?”
Cypress was silent. Ghost turned around and saw that his eyes were narrowed in thought. Behind him, Tyto had sat up on his bunk, his mouth open. A step ahead of Cypress. Just as he had been last night.
“Yes,” he said softly. “Myrtle. Her daughter.”
It took a second for Ghost to fish out his letter dish. He wrote a short note on a scrap of paper: Who are Maize’s parents?
He set it in the dish and it vanished it a flash of purple fire. A few seconds later he got his answer, in Bluebell’s tidy, industrial script.
“Her parents are Flour and Pepper Dust. Both deceased. Why?”
Ghost let the letter fall to the ground, where Valiant snatched it up.
“They’re related.” He looked at Ghost over the top of the note, his face ashen. “The murders, the kidnappings. Goddess, they’re the same.”
They all looked at each other for a moment. It was as if the ground had shifted from beneath them, leaving them on unstable territory. Ghost felt the tension in the air and shivered.
Slowly, Tyto set his feet on the ground, sinking his claws into the mattress. “I think we’re looking at something more sinister than a serial killer,” he said quietly.
Ghost’s horn lit up.