On the third day, the demon said unto Starswirl: “Look upon this land, and see all that I can achieve. The very trees uproot and dance like ponies; the rocks[a] themselves flow like water and the rivers stand strong as boulders. I can even twist space and time themselves into loops. You have a great thirst for knowledge, stallion—I will allow you to study my chaos[b], freely, and learn from it all you wish, if you were only to bow to me.”
—Inlectatio 4:12-14
“I’m worried about Maria.”
Rabastan Whitetail took a moment to savour the last bite of his egg salad sandwich—though he’d had to add a little salt, the cooks had done a fantastic job once again. It was bursting with flavour, the crunch of the lettuce a perfect accent upon the soft, smooth egg mayonnaise (and was that onion he could taste? Another light, crunching note, but not too sharp.) And as much as he missed his wife’s cooking while he was away, he knew that in any real contest the Arcana chefs had her beaten.
It was only after he had swallowed that he turned and frowned at the professor to his right. “What’s bothering you?”
Professor Everfree sighed, glanced quickly over towards the darkened side of the room, and said, “She has a good heart, bless her, but I don’t think she always realises the implications of her helping. And as a neophyte, especially at her age, the very fact that she can help would be taken as an insult by some Houses…”
“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge other Houses by your own’s standards, Arthur.” Rabastan reached out for another sandwich with his hornglow, quickly raising a salt shaker and giving it a light sprinkling—Melody would never approve, which was another reason he preferred term time—before he dropped it on his plate. “Not every House is so quick to offense at a neophyte’s every action.”
“True.” Professor Everfree sighed, raising a chalice of water to his lips and gulping down a quick mouthful. “But that doesn’t mean that there are no such Houses. Sometimes, I think my House would take insult at one of its own.”
“That would hardly surprise me,” Rabastan muttered. House Everfree was well-known for being unusually intolerant of neophytes—their head, Invictus, had personally tried to block his appointment as deputy headmaster, and had been an outspoken critic of his job ever since. How that House had managed to give rise to a stallion such as Arthur was beyond him.
“Regardless,” Professor Everfree began, clearly acting as if he hadn’t heard Rabastan’s remark, “It’s a shame that she should have to learn to quash her charitable instincts. This world needs more mares like her, I think.”
“You mean people for whom ‘charity’ means more than dressing up and spending lavish amounts at some auction for the local foals’ home?”
Professor Everfree nodded, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Rabastan smiled.
“Relax, old friend,” he said. “You’re not the only one who’s worried about her—but we’re not the only ones looking out for her, you know.” He didn’t need to mention that he was worried about Maria for very different reasons. Besides, it would hardly do to tell the mare’s father that he was worried about her for doing too well academically, even if he suspected that her thirst for knowledge may be just as unintentionally insulting as her helpful nature.
“Timothy Sparkle is not the kind of stallion I’d want looking out for my daughter.” Rabastan chuckled at that—the lad was hardly an expert in social etiquette, even if he was fairly harmless.
“But they are friends,” Rabastan said, “and they are looking out for each other, in little ways. Besides, it could be worse. She could have made friends with a serving-mare.”
Professor Everfree almost spilled his drink—Rabastan felt that he had obviously said the wrong thing, since his colleague’s violent snort into his chalice was hardly appropriate public behaviour. The oration professor might have been a bit scatterbrained academically, but he was rarely one to shy away from proper conduct (in public, at least—Rabastan had seen what the stallion was like after a pint or two of hard cider.)
“Didn’t stop her from trying last night,” he muttered. Rabastan’s eyes went wide for a moment as he processed what he heard—no wonder Arthur was worried about the young mare. He sighed, shook his head, and turned back to his next sandwich, fresh and ready on his plate.
So long as she listens, and keeps our warnings in mind, he thought, I’m sure everything will be absolutely fine.
[a] in some translations, mountains.
[b] though the original text clearly reads magicās, it is the belief of many modern scholars that Discord’s powers were so vastly dissimilar to our own magic that it would be misleading to use the same word—some argue that to do so may even tempt modern unicorns into disastrous attempts to recreate the chaos of Discord.