//------------------------------// // 6 - City of Blinding Lights // Story: The Other Side of the Horizon // by Rambling Writer //------------------------------// Twilight’s party got back in the air as soon as they finished lunch. True to Livingstone’s word, the impundulu had come as soon as Livingstone had blown its whistle. Its beak was a bit bloodstained; Twilight decided to not ask questions. They spent most of their time flying over more and more grasslands, but now, the silence was less tense, more relaxed. Twilight didn’t feel anxious when she looked up at Livingstone, and Livingstone occasionally yelled back questions to Twilight about her time away and pretty much anything else that crossed her mind. “What kind of princess is Luna like?” “How’d you become a princess and where can I get some of that?” “How’d you know Zecora?” “You were once Celestia’s personal pupil?” “The Crystal What came back?” “The Sonic Rainboom is actually a thing?” “We really didn’t need to split up with your friends at all, did we?” It was a nice change of pace, to say the least. But the flying was still fairly monotonous, and while the grasslands were pretty, they didn’t change a lot. They flew, and the sun slowly crept across the sky, and the aches in Twilight’s wings slowly grew more and more pronounced. It was maybe an hour before sundown when Livingstone had them touch down again — not for dinner, just for a quick rest. Twilight didn’t complain in the least. “A bit slower than I thought we’d be going, yes,” she said, “but that’s what getting up early is for. We should reach Kulikulu before dark. If you look over there, you can see it now.” She pointed. They’d settled on a high crest of hills, forming one side of a valley that stretched off in both directions. Shortish mountains with easy, shallow gradients made up the other, and Livingstone was pointing at a large, dark splotch about three-quarters of the way up one of the slope, several skinny streams flowing away from it. The valley was crisscrossed by a river running the length of the valley thin paths connecting what Twilight guessed were small villages. However, it puzzled Twilight that Livingstone had said they “should” reach Kulikulu before dark, as if it wasn’t a guarantee. The valley didn’t look particularly large across; they ought to get to Kulikulu before dark easily. Maybe it’d look bigger further up. “I’m going to up to get a better look,” she said to Livingstone, and was in the air in a second. She climbed and climbed until she was at what she thought was a decent height. Twilight frowned at the valley. From up here, it still didn’t look all that big… But from here, something seemed off. Something she couldn’t put her hoof on. She pulled out the spyglass and began looking over the valley. For some reason, the focus was being finicky and didn’t adjust right. Twilight panned over the valley, trying to find something specific to look at and compare its size to. But she couldn’t fi- There. There was a family of zebras on the shore of the river. Two adults on the shore, a few foals playing in the water. That could work. Twilight began panning across the river to get a better idea of how wide it was. She kept panning. And panning. And panning. Twilight whipped the spyglass away. From her position in the sky, the river wasn’t that wide. But it was still taking forever for her to get across it in the spyglass. Maybe… Twilight shook her head and looked through the spyglass again. Now that she knew where the family was, it was trivial to find them again. But, again, it took much too long to get across the river. Hmm. She went back to the family and started zooming out, trying to see both the whole river and the family. She kept zooming out. And out. And out. By the time she saw both sides of the shore, the zebras were mere specks. It was hard for Twilight to even tell those dots were zebras; the river looked like a smaller version of itself at this distance. And then it hit her: her scale was still wonky from the grasslands. It wasn’t a small valley, it was a massive one, much larger than any she’d seen in Equestria; she’d essentially been seeing it as a miniature of itself. The river was over a quarter-mile wide. The thin paths weren’t paths, they were broad, well-maintained concourses capable of carrying large amounts of traffic. The tiny villages they connected weren’t villages, they were decent-sized towns. The mountains weren’t shortish, they were towering giants. Like the grasslands, everything was just big on a scale rarely seen in Equestria. And if the valley was that big, then the “small” splotch that was Kulikulu… Twilight moved the spyglass to Kulikulu. From what she could see, it was bigger than Canterlot. Maybe not as large as Manehattan, but considering the size of Manehattan, that wasn’t saying a whole lot. It ran up the mountain slope like a sheet, easily hugging the ground. The “streams” coming from it were actually large, rushing rivers. At the very top, on a small peak of its own, sat some kind of fortress, probably Inkosi’s palace. It looked almost as large as Canterlot Castle, but given all the screwy scaling Twilight had just dealt with, she wasn’t completely trusting her eyes. Well. That was something. Twilight dropped back to the ground and stared at the valley with her new perspective. Even from here, it was just… Wow. Livingstone smirked. “Saw it, did you?” For a moment, Twilight couldn’t say anything. Finally, she said, “It’s big.” “No. Really?” Livingstone laughed. “That, my friend, is Bonde Kubwa, the Great Valley. Runs up and down Zebrabwe for miles and miles, yes. It holds a significant portion of Zebrabwe’s population, thanks to the Mtiririko — that’s the river — flowing through it. When I first saw it, my reaction was much the same as yours.” “I can imagine,” said Twilight. “It’s… big.” Spike coughed. “You already said that, Twi.” “Well, do you have any other word to describe it?” said Twilight, gesturing out over Bonde Kubwa. “I mean, look at it.” Spike took a deep breath. “Synonyms for big don’t count.” Spike slowly released his breath. “So, yes,” said Livingstone. “In a few minutes, we’ll make the last leg of the trip and get you situated in the palace. You won’t have an actual embassy, unfortunately, but you should have a very nice suite as a temporary measure. Inkosi doesn’t do things by halves, no.” As they approached Kulikulu and the sun began to set, lights came on in Kulikulu. Lots and lots of lights. It was like Manehattan: every building was brightly illuminated. The zebras weren’t shy about their lights, either, with the occasional spotlight panning through the sky to show the way to this or that establishment. And it wasn’t even fully dark yet. The buildings were kind of strangely placed: they were seven or eight stories high or thereabouts once you got past the outskirts, grew to skyscrapers as you went further inward, then dropped down to four stories at the most past those. Twilight guessed Kulikulu was expanding, with the lowest buildings being the oldest. “Stay close to me!” Livingstone hollered over her shoulder as they approached the fortress. “And I mean close. With iimpundulu commonly available for flight, the guards of Kulikulu don’t like unauthorized fliers entering their airspace. Stray too far from me, and… Well, let’s just say bad things will happen, yes. Your guards, too.” “Got it!” yelled Twilight. No sooner were the words out of her mouth then three black shapes rose up from the palace and streaked towards them. Soon, the group was being circled by three zebra guards, each riding an impundulu, each impundulu with lightning crackling between its talons. A guard yelled something in Zebran at Livingstone, who quickly replied. Twilight managed to gather that the guard said something like, “State your business.”, while Livingstone’s words were whipped away. But the guard must’ve been satisfied, for he gestured for them to follow. He and the other two formed an arrowhead, with Twilight’s group following along in a hodgepodge. They were all heading for the fortress. This close, it was definitely a fortress. Outdated, maybe, but there it remained, completely made of very big, very solid, very beige stones. The small peak it was on wasn’t that much larger than the surrounding area, but it was enough to complicate things for any ground-based attackers. A fast-moving river came at it from the back, split to provide a natural moat for the fortress, and connected together again on the other side before flowing through Kulikulu itself. The only ground route across that Twilight could see was a drawbridge, currently down, spanning the river. Just as Twilight was asking herself about aerial invaders, they crossed the outer wall, and Twilight spotted gigantic mounted crossbows lining the ramparts, each one manned by a zebra. “They sure do have a lot of weapons, don’t they?” Spike muttered. “Of course they do,” said Twilight. “This is the home of their king. They’d want to protect her.” “Yeah, but even Celestia doesn’t have this much.” “Celestia’s powerful enough to move the sun on her own. She doesn’t need that much. A lot of her guards are just for show. Inkosi doesn’t have that advantage. I think.” The group crossed the walls without incident and landed in a courtyard near an impundulu cage, much larger than the one in Bandari Mji. It was mostly empty, barring a few zebras attending the iimpundulu and some guards. As the iimpundulu were coaxed into the cage, the guard that had led them in told them, via Livingstone, to wait there. He went in, but the other two guards stayed behind, chatting between themselves. At first, anyway. For the first time since coming to Zebrabwe, Twilight really, truly felt like she was being stared at. The guards who’d escorted them in, the guards who’d already been in the courtyard, the iimpundulu attendants, all of them were staring at her and her group. Bandari Mji, at least, had been used to Livingstone, while the zebras here were not. And not everyone here was even equine. She glanced at Spike, who was staring at the ground and fidgeting a lot. He looked around at the zebras staring at them — at him especially — then looked up at Twilight. She patted his head. “Don’t worry, Spike,” she whispered. “You’ll get used to it. And they’ll get used to you.” “I hope so,” he muttered. One of the attendants took a few steps towards them. Stormwalker thrust her head at him, snarling with her ears back, and flared her wings. The attendant yelped and took a few steps away from them. “Whoa, hey,” Twilight said, stepping in front of Stormwalker, “you need to cool it, okay?” “Your Highness, I-” “Yes. I know you’re supposed to protect me. But you’re overreacting to absolutely everything. If somebody so much as sneezed next to me, you’d probably suplex them on the off chance they were directing an airborne poison at me.” Stormwalker was impassive. “I’m just trying to protect you.” “But you’re not helping my image, here,” said Twilight. “This is the first time in history that Inkosi has met an official from Equestria, and how do you think it’ll look if one of my bodyguards goes around looking like she’ll kill anyone who looks at me sideways? You’re just going to get me in trouble.” “She’s got a point,” Cumulus said to Stormwalker. “I get that my livelihood is important to you,” Twilight continued. “But if you keep assuming that anyone who could kill me is going to try, you’re going against the whole reason my livelihood is important.” Stormwalker narrowed her eyes slightly. But she didn’t say anything. “And no offense to your abilities, but you do remember what me being a princess means, right? I can handle one or two zebras. It looks like Cumulus knows. Are you just trying to force yourself into situations so you seem important?” That must’ve hit a nerve. Stormwalker folded her ears back and pawed at the ground. She opened her mouth, like she was going to go into a colossal tirade, then snapped her jaw tight shut and turned away from Twilight, glaring at a stone in the wall. …She was. She didn’t like her role being largely ceremonial, did she? Great. Someone else for Twilight to add to her remarkably specific list of “Ponies I Unintentionally Antagonized”. Considering this was supposedly a diplomatic mission, she really hoped it wouldn’t become a list of “Ponies and Zebras I Unintentionally Antagonized”. “Sorry,” Twilight said quietly, “but can you try to tone it down a little? Please?” Stormwalker whipped her gaze back to Twilight. She didn’t say anything, but maybe, maybe, her gaze softened, just a little. Then she went right back to challenging the wall to a staring contest. Twilight sighed and stretched her wings. “Livingstone, apologize to the zebra and tell him Stormwalker’s having some issues, would you please?” Stormwalker herself didn’t react. Livingstone looked between Twilight and Stormwalker, then said, “If you say so.” She started talking to the zebra. From what Twilight could tell, it was pretty much what she’d said, except with maybe a touch more… color. The zebra laughed a nervous laugh that was covering up his anxiety. She said something to Livingstone, who passed on, “He says he deserved it. I don’t think I need to tell you he’s trying to keep himself out of trouble.” Twilight threw a Look at Stormwalker. See what you’re doing? “He was fine,” she said to Livingstone. “My guard just overreacted.” Livingstone relayed this to the zebra, but before the zebra could respond, the guard who’d led them into the palace returned. He said something, which Livingstone translated as finding them a place to stay, and gestured for them to follow. Inside, the fortress felt just as solid as it did outside, but it was considerably less monochrome. Countless tapestries, in all sorts of bright colors, lined the walls. They were absolutely everywhere, as if having more than two feet of bare wall was a sin (which, considering the drabness of the walls themselves, might actually be the case). The floors and ceilings alike were tiled with all sorts of geometric designs, each one subtly different from the next. The tiles themselves ranged from simple colored rocks to elaborately painted stones to, very rarely, inlaid gems. Complex, tasteful light fixtures with bright bulbs hung from the ceiling. The halls themselves, however, were surprisingly empty, with only a few zebras here and there, who all gave them an easy berth. At Twilight’s request, Livingstone asked the guard about it. “He says most people don’t come here, at least, not at the moment, no. These are the diplomatic apartments, and there’s not much at the moment. Just us and-” She stopped talking and her face lit up. With a little bit of a spring in her step, she turned back to the guard and started a fast conversation with him, too fast for Twilight to hope to follow. Twilight gave up and went back to admiring the ceilings. When Livingstone wanted to tell her, she would. As they passed under one of the lightbulbs, Twilight paused for half an instant to look up at it. It felt strange; Equestria had lightbulbs, too — often even in the same design as this one — but they weren’t commonly used, with the far simpler light gems preferred. Of course, with zebras lacking magic, they’d prefer electric lights. But given the amount lights she’d seen outside, the amount of electricity needed would be staggering. Where did they get all the power? And they definitely weren’t lacking for it, not with lights planted on every flat surface outside. Suddenly the guard stopped and pointed them into a doorway (opened, Twilight noticed, with the same pedal-thing that had previously stymied her). Through Livingstone, she said, “These apartments will qualify as your embassy during your stay here. I hope they prove to be satisfactory.” A quick look-over showed that the “apartments” had more space than a good-sized house, and they had absolutely everything Twilight’s group could want, plus a little more. There was a kitchen, a dining room, enough beds for their whole group plus Applejack and Zecora when they arrived plus some more, a study, a sort of cross between a living room and a conference room, and, best of all, a fully-stocked library. It was surprisingly homey, when all was said and done. And it had a library. “Yes,” Twilight said serenely to the guard, feeling like she was walking on sunshine, “this will do juuuust fine.” Upon hearing Livingstone’s translation, the guard bowed slightly and left. Livingstone was talking almost immediately, her voice fast and bright. “Now, listen, there’s, I got a really good thing that might work. Uh, uh, wait here, Twilight, please? Thanks, yes.” She bolted out of the room in a flash. “What’s her deal?” Spike asked. “No idea,” said Twilight. “But I know what my deal is!” Stormwalker cleared her throat. “As for me, Your Highness, my deal is not knowing the layout of this place well enough just yet. Cumulus and I are going to examine this place more thoroughly. Just so you know.” “Yes, yes,” Twilight said, waving them away, “that’s fine.” She immediately made for the library and pulled out the first book she could get her hooves on. She opened it up and began examining the mass of magnificent arranged, beautifully typeset gibberish. Rrrrrrright. All the books were written in Zebran. Which had a vastly different orthography from Equestrian. Which she couldn’t read. Which was torture. Twilight moaned and planted her face in the book. “Need to learn how to read Zebran?” Spike asked. “Yeff.” “Better hope Livingstone’s a good teacher.” “Eeyup.” Twilight sighed and replaced the book, staring up forlornly at the shelves. Stormwalker and Cumulus re-entered the library. “Good news,” Stormwalker said. “The only means of access to these rooms for someone without wings is through the front door.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “You really think someone’s going to try to assassinate me already?” “There’s supposedly a law forbidding travel outside of Zebrabwe. It’s unlikely, but I wouldn’t entirely discount it.” That was… unpleasantly reasonable. It was the reason Livingstone had spent six years here, after all. Whatever the cause, it was suddenly easy for Twilight to imagine that some group wanted her dead, or at least incapacitated. She’d have to- The door burst open and Livingstone, grinning from ear to ear, slid into the room. “JACKPOT!” she bellowed. “Tw-” Stormwalker dive-tackled Livingstone across the room, and Cumulus quickly joined the pile. After a few moments of wrestling, the two guards froze. “Oh,” Stormwalker said. “It’s you.” She and Cumulus stepped off of Livingstone. “Goodness!” said Twilight. She was at Livingstone’s side in an instant. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? I can-” But Livingstone waved her off. “Fine,” she groaned. “Sore, but fine.” She rolled over and slowly got to her feet. “Son of a gelding, that hurt,” she muttered. “Sorry,” said Cumulus. “Reflexes.” Stormwalker shrugged. “Also reflexes.” She glanced briefly at Twilight, shuffled her hooves, then went back to Livingstone. “Sorry.” Livingstone groaned. “Any chance you two can turn off those reflexes?” she muttered. “Nope. You jump through a door yelling, I automatically think of you as a threat. I did what I was trained to do. You get into that sort of situation, thinking only slows you down.” “You body-slammed me into the wall!” yelled Livingstone. “Call me crazy, yes, but I don’t want to share a suite with ponies who do… who do that!” “Then maybe,” Stormwalker said, “you shouldn’t burst through doors at high speeds towards my charge while screaming like a maniac. I tend to associate those with attackers.” Her voice was so completely, utterly level that it was impossible to tell if she was being snide or serious. Or snidely serious. Livingstone opened her mouth, then rolled her eyes and turned away from Stormwalker with a wave. “Aaannnyyywwwaaayyy,” she said to Twilight through gritted teeth, “I’ve found a friend here; the guard mentioned it offhand while we were walking. I didn’t think she’d actually be here, she’s not from Zebrabwe, but…” She grinned. “This’ll make my job a lot easier, let me tell you, yes.” Not from Zebrabwe? That was a new one for Twilight. She hadn’t known there were other countries over here besides Zebrabwe. But, oh well. You learn something new every day. “You’ve found another translator?” That was… awfully convenient. “Even better,” said Livingstone. Somehow, her grin grew wider. “Much much much better.” She yelled something out the door, and in walked… …a bicorn. That was actually the best way to put it: bicorn. Rather than the one horn of a unicorn, she (Twilight assumed they were a she) had two, one in the same place as unicorn’s and another, smaller one perched right on the middle of her nose. Unlike a unicorn’s horn, they were both a bit crooked and loopy, not nice and straight. As for the bicorn herself, she was small, at least a foot shorter than Twilight at the shoulder. Her hooves — all four of them — were cloven like a buffalo’s or minotaur’s, and a lot of little hairs hung down from the fetlocks over them. Her tail wasn’t hairy like a pony’s, but fleshy, thin, and wiry, although there was a large tuft of hair at the end. Her coat was mainly a light brown, with a few white stripes on her legs. The bicorn stopped when she saw Twilight and squinted. She seemed particularly intrigued by Twilight’s wings, but made no attempt to touch them. She said something to Livingstone, who shook her head and replied. Twilight wasn’t sure, but it sounded like the bicorn spoke a different language than Zebran; a language Livingstone spoke as well. The bicorn huffed. She and Livingstone exchanged a few more words, then Livingstone turned to Twilight and said, “Don’t move.” Yeah. That was always a reassuring statement. Still, Livingstone hadn’t steered her wrong so far, so Twilight nodded and locked her legs. The bicorn took a few steps towards Twilight, then leveled her upper horn (which looked awfully pointy) at Twilight’s face. Twilight blinked a few times, bit her lip, and her wings twitched, but she still didn’t move. The bicorn’s horn sparked, and tiny beads of light showered her and Twilight. She looked back up at Twilight and said, in perfect, unaccented Equestrian and a distinctly female voice, “Can you understand me?” Twilight hesitantly nodded. “Yeah. Why?” The bicorn sighed with relief. “I was just worried I’d lost my touch. I’ve not used a translation spell in years.” Something didn’t quite click in Twilight’s head. She heard the words, but they didn’t exactly make sense. “Translation spell?” “Yyyyes. Translation spell.” The bicorn cocked her head. “Why? Is it not working? Did you hear something wrong just now?” Twilight shook her head. “No, it’s just… I’ve never heard of a working translation spell before! I’ve heard some of the theory, but they’re supposed to be incredibly complex. You need to account for syntax, morphology, declension, conjugation, and all that, and even then, you need to know both languages inside and out, so you might as well just be a translator so you can pick up on more nonverbal nuances.” “The… syntax…” The bicorn burst out laughing. “My good mare, it’s not the words that are important, it’s the ideas behind them! You don’t need to account for all the changes in language, just make sure the right ideas get through your ears and the brain will do the rest for you.” “Hmm. That…” Twilight cocked her head and her face began to light up. “Yeah, actually, that could work. It’d take some doing, but once you got the basic framework down, you could do it. And it wouldn’t even matter which language was coming in! This is amazing! How did you do it?” She leaned in expectantly towards the bicorn, grinning her eyes wide. The bicorn didn’t seem too perturbed by her personal space being invaded. “It’s relatively simple. First, you need to separate the words from the thoughts. Everyone’s got their own technique, but I do it by-” Off to the side, Livingstone cleared her throat, “Beg your pardon,” she said, “but given that the two of you are ambassadors, is there any chance you could stop debating magic and start ambassading, yes?” “Oh! Yes,” said Twilight, blushing. She cleared her throat. “I am Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria.” “Pleased to meet you, Princess Twilight Sparkle.” Twilight’s name (but not her title) was said a bit more slowly, as if the bicorn was saying sounds foreign to her mouth. She placed a foreleg over her chest and bowed slightly. “I am Consul Uvivi Ukucwazimula of Wilayabada.” “Um…” Twilight grinned sheepishly. “That’s, um, uh, a, uh, a bit of a mouthful for me.” “Hmm. What about just Uvivi?” “That’s fine.” “Then call me Uvivi. Or Consul. Or Consul Uvivi. They’re all fine.” Spike coughed. “Hey, uh, Twilight?” “Yeah?” “Do you actually understand her? I’m just hearing gibberish.” “Abadic, actually,” said Uvivi, “and it’s ohmystars you’re a tiny kongamato!” “Um…” “It’s not gibberish, it’s Abadic,” Twilight said to Spike. To Uvivi, she said, “He’s actually a dragon. They’re a species in Equestria.” “Well, he looks like a tiny kongamato. He’s so c-” Spike crossed his arms. “Hey. Twilight? Can you ask her to do to me whatever she did to you? Because it’s weird sitting here and hearing you two talk to each other when you’re not even talking the same language.” “Right, right,” said Uvivi. “Give me a mi-” “Stop talking to me like I can understand you! I don’t speak Abadic or whatever it’s called!” “He’s cranky, isn’t he?” Uvivi said to Twilight. “Tell him to hold still.” “Spike, hold still for a second,” said Twilight. “And stop snapping like that, will you, please?” Spike rolled his eyes and went rigid. Uvivi’s horn sparked again, and she said, “Can you hear me now?” “Yes! Thank you,” said Spike. Uvivi glanced at Stormwalker and Cumulus. “And give me a moment while I get your guards, too. Might as well do the whole thing.” As Uvivi set to work, Twilight asked Livingstone, “I don’t mean any offense to her, but what is she?” “She’s an abada,” said Livingstone. “They’re further east from here, in Wilaya, yes. Wilaya has a decent relationship with Zebrabwe. And Uvivi is one of their ambassadors. Well, I guess she’s a consul, now.” “How do you know her?” “When I got into the Court for the first time, nineteen years ago — wow, was it really nineteen years ago? Sweet Celestia, I’m old — when I came into court for the first time, my Zebran was still rather lackluster, so Inkosi asked the abadas if they would be willing to help. Uvivi was there, she applied a translation spell, and…” Livingstone shrugged. “We became friends, eventually. Haven’t seen much of each other, but enough.” “Convenient for us, then.” “Even more than you think. See, the abadas just got here on their own mission, something to do with some abada coal company operating near Kulikulu, and Inkosi’s holding a dinner tomorrow before negotiations, yes, with a few members of Zebrabwe’s nobility who also happen to be in town.” Livingstone rubbed her hooves together. “So, if I’m lucky tomorrow, we’ll be able to get in there as well. The abadas will have precedence, naturally, but it’s a step forward.” “Really, really convenient.” “Yes, indeed,” said Uvivi, turning back to Twilight. “And if we’re going to get you into that dinner without having you thrown out for impropriety, we’re going to need to teach you certain things.” The bottom dropped out of Twilight’s stomach. She knew what was coming. It’d always been coming, but she never thought she’d have to cram it all into less than twenty-four hours. This was going to be terrible. “You don’t mean…” Uvivi grinned faux-nastily. “Yesssss,” she hissed, “we’re going to teach you and your not-kongamato friend protocol. For starters, if you’re going to look shocked like that, keep your mouth closed. It doesn’t matter how clean your teeth are, we don’t want to be staring at them during a conversation.” Twilight closed her mouth and swallowed. Of all the things she had to learn… This was going to be a long day.