Amphorae

by Dave Bryant


The princess and the runaway

The two girls who entered Rose’s tiny office had very little in common with her newest clients, other than the same faint air of alienness. Their strides, though diffident in this unfamiliar location and environment, were firm and unafraid. Rose stood and extended her artificial arm across her desk. “Your . . . Highness? Ms. Shimmer. Thank you so much for coming.”
Sunset Shimmer looked at Rose’s arm, letting her gaze travel up it to the older woman’s face. She smiled hesitantly at the welcoming expression she found there. Princess Twilight Sparkle, on the other hand, reached out without a pause to shake Rose’s hand. “Thank you, Captain Brass. ‘Highness’ is technically correct, but please, call me Twilight.”
“In that case, both of you should call me Rose. I only use ‘Captain’ to overawe my clients. In a lot of cases I need every edge I can get.”
Both her guests grimaced and nodded in understanding. Rose gestured hospitably to the venerable stacking chairs in front of her desk. “I’m sorry about the accommodations, but as I told the sirens, it’s a big system. There isn’t a lot of budget for frills, I’m afraid.”
“Please don’t apologize,” Twilight implored her. “I’m sure you’re doing the best you can with what you have, and I can’t imagine the resources are unlimited for everything that needs to be done. One thing I learned from the library and class sessions I audited at Canterlot High is how huge your world is compared to ours. A population of more than seven billion, divided into two hundred countries?” She shook her head. “I have no clear idea what our world’s total sapient population is—we haven’t started keeping records like that yet, and I’m not sure we could—but just going by your own world’s population a century and a half ago, that’s more than four times the people. It’s a miracle you all do so well.”
“Huh. I hadn’t considered it that way, to be honest,” Rose admitted. “Thank you for your understanding—and your insight—ah, Twilight. Please be seated, both of you.”
All three of them sat, Twilight without any apparent consciousness of royal protocol. Rose sighed and began. “I was hoping the two of you could give me more background on the sirens and the world they came from. I understand from your point of view we’re talking about medieval if not ancient history, but it’s more than I probably have, even with all the briefing material I was given. I also would like any advice or suggestions you may have, since not only do you all come from the same world, but you all are roughly of an age.”
“Um . . . before we start, ma’am, I’d really like to know how they’re doing,” Sunset asked. “Please. Vice-Principal Luna said they’d been disenrolled from Canterlot High, but she couldn’t or wouldn’t tell us anything else.”
Rose smiled, surprised and pleased by the question. It transfigured her scarred face, and both Twilight and Sunset found themselves smiling back. “I got them placed in a foster home. It was a bit of a rocky start, and I’m sure things won’t go completely smoothly in the future, but at least they’re off the street. There’s still a lot to be done, but that’s the most important single step. As for disenrollment: They’ll be home-schooled by their caretakers. I’m not allowed to give you any more information, and even telling you that much is arguably borderline.”
Sunset breathed out, relieved, and sat back. “I . . . can kind of relate to them. The difference is I had Princess Twi and the other girls to help me back up, and the sirens . . . don’t. And I think they wouldn’t have let us, even if they’d stayed.”
“I think you’re right,” Rose said seriously, woman to woman. “I can’t tell them you asked after them, but I want you to know I’m glad you did. I read about your background, at least some of it, and speaking from experience, I can say you’re doing a good job of building a new life.”
Sunset blushed and bit her lip; her hands fidgeted in her lap. Possibly to rescue her, Twilight spoke up. “One last question. Are you satisfied with the arrangements for reporting on their progress?”
“They’re pretty unusual,” Rose answered dryly, “but yes, I’ll be sending duplicate copies of my reports to you in your official capacity, via Sunset here. That’s highly irregular, needless to say, but given the constraints involved, it probably is the best we can do.” She turned to Sunset. “If you pass them along still sealed, and as promptly as the two of you can manage, that should satisfy the letter of our agreement.”
Sunset acknowledged with a resolute nod.
“Now. I thought we should start with a general history of what’s known about their lives and the circumstances surrounding them, then follow that up with your best knowledge of the events leading up to their banishment. Anything either of you can tell me could prove valuable, no matter how trivial it may seem. I learned that the hard way in the army.”


Rose took notes as Twilight, with occasional interjections from her equally well-educated friend, filled in as much as they could. It still wasn’t as complete as any of them might wish, but it did close a lot of gaps. Twilight’s enthusiastic account of the confrontation between the sirens and a certain wizard, however, caused Rose to start rubbing her forehead with her left hand. When the princess finally noticed the pained expression on Rose’s face, she trailed off uncertainly. “Uh . . . what’s wrong, Rose?”
The ex-captain sighed and lowered her hand. “I wondered if I’d read this part of the briefing papers right. The solution this mighty wizard . . . Starswirl . . . came up with was to drop-kick the sirens into another world, where they’d be someone else’s problem?”
“Well . . . um . . . when you put it that way . . .” Twilight looked crestfallen, like a child just informed the tooth fairy didn’t exist. Sunset bit her lip and looked as if she too was experiencing an unpleasant epiphany, though not to the same degree.
Rose hated having burst the girls’ bubble; she knew hero worship when she saw it. She sighed. “I’m sorry, Twilight. It’s always tough finding out one’s heroes have feet of clay.”
Twilight swallowed and plainly did not like the taste of it. “I knew he didn’t understand friendship as well as he could have, but I never really thought about what he did from that point of view. Celestia . . .”
“Princess Celestia didn’t talk about him a lot,” Sunset observed with some surprise. It was obvious she was reviewing memories in a new light. “I don’t think she ever really lied or even slanted the truth when she did, but—”
“But she also didn’t go into a lot of detail, did she?” Rose nodded. “She probably was as close to him as anyone was, if I’ve got everything straight, and who wants to speak ill of old friends? Especially when they’re no longer around.”
“I . . . think I need to talk to her about this. And Luna, too.” Twilight’s expression hardened with determination.
Rose raised her artificial hand. “Don’t be too rough on them, Twilight,” she admonished gently. “They probably have a lot of reasons, some good, some not so good. It’s hard enough for an ordinary person like me; I can’t imagine what it must be like to carry centuries of secrets—or memories—in one’s head.”
Twilight blinked at her. “You’re not ordinary, Rose,” she said with the same tone of shocked certainty she might use to reject the notion of the sun rising in the west.
A bittersweet smile lit Rose’s face. “Thank you, Twilight.”
“No, I mean it,” Twilight insisted. “I did my own research. I know things got bad after you retired, but here you are now, doing a difficult and dangerous job, and doing it well. You don’t get a lot of money, and you don’t get a lot of thanks, but you’ve never given up.”
Rose looked into the distance. “I almost did, a few times.”
“But you didn’t,” Sunset cut in. “That’s the important thing.” Her stare was urgent and her eyes started to glisten a little. “I was so scared when Princess Twi pulled me out of that crater and, and asked the girls to take care of me. I don’t think it ever crossed their minds to say no. Even when I was on the ragged edge, and the whole school except for them still didn’t trust me, they were there. They gave me meaning. And all those other kids out there, the ones in trouble, they give you meaning, don’t they?”
“Yes. Yes they do.” Rose looked back at Sunset, mouth firming. She slid open a drawer and pulled out a couple of business cards. “Here. Twilight, you should have this anyway. Sunset, if you ever need anything—and you might—call me. If I can’t do it, I’ll find someone who can. That’s a promise.”
Twilight beamed, vindicated, and Sunset looked touched.
Sunset’s phone abruptly played a lively tune, and both girls jumped. Sunset pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the display. “Um, Twi? It’s time.”
“Oh, right, we still have to meet with Coo—someone else today before I go back through the portal,” Twilight explained apologetically. “I’m sorry, Rose. Did you get everything you needed?”
Rose pretended not to notice the verbal slip; it wasn’t her business, whatever it was. “It sounds like I’ve got as much as I can, at least for now. If I have to, I’ll talk with Sunset, and I suppose she can get in touch with you about any questions she can’t answer. There is one other thing I’m curious about, though.”
“What is it?” Twilight cocked her head.
“When you came in, you shook my fake hand right away. Most people are bothered by the idea, and some won’t do it at all. Even those who will usually take a moment to work up the nerve. It’s a little test I use to get an impression of people when I first meet them.”
Twilight coughed and blushed. “Oh, that. I, um, I didn’t even think about it.”
Sunset snickered. “Gosh, I wonder why not?” She started ticking off points on her fingers. “Let’s see: You’ve faced full-grown dragons, monsters from Tartarus, evil usurpers, world-ending threats—”
Twilight’s blush heated. Only the horrified embarrassment in the glare she turned on Sunset made the latter desist.
Rose rubbed her lips with her left hand to hide the surprised smile. “I see. Well, that answers that. I shouldn’t keep you two any longer.”
With that, everyone stood, and Rose escorted them out, a courtesy she rarely extended. This time, though, she was glad to. She still thought “princess of friendship” was a pretty silly title, but maybe there was something to it.