“I’m sorry, but if this Moon Dancer is so important, why aren’t you interrogating her yourself?” asked Rarity. She inhaled sharply as the inquisitor slipped into a grey sweater reminiscent of Sweetie Belle’s attempts at knitting. It couldn’t have been, of course, because it was Nocturnal Equestrian and had a normal number of sleeves. “Are you sure you want to wear that, dear?”
“If I want to masquerade as her? Of course, I do,” responded Inquisitor Sparkle. She tied her mane into a top knot. “Hence the hair dye.”
Inquisitor Sparkle’s lavender coat was now a fetching cream colour with a fiery ginger mane that was halfway between pure red and auburn. She’d left a stripe of purple in her mane and tail, and was, at that moment, in the process of attaching some very bushy fake eyebrows to her face. The top knot ruined the look somewhat, but Rarity’s words of protest had fallen on deaf ears.
“Besides,” added the inquisitor, “she’s not going to say a thing. We know her type; she’s the sort who would—actually, never mind.” She shook her head, with a faint smile on her lips. “Just know that I’m going to be taking her place.”
“Do you really think you’d get away with impersonating her just by dying your hair?” asked Rarity.
“See for yourself.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Rarity. She took the photo from the inquisitor’s magical grasp; it depicted a cream mare wearing the exact same grey sweater, and glasses with the chunkiest black frames she’d ever seen. “Is she some relation of yours? The similarity is remarkable!” She plumped her curls, as she levitated the picture back.
“If she is, she’s a distant relation,” responded Inquisitor Sparkle.
A knock on the door was followed by the now familiar voice of Lictor Thunderlane.
“Yes,” responded Inquisitor Sparkle, “I’m decent; come in!”
Lictor Thunderlane walked into the room, confidently at first, but upon seeing both Fluttershy and Rarity, he hesitated. His ears swivelled round nervously, as if a faint noise had startled him. “Uh, Inquisitor—”
“What’s the damage?” asked Inquisitor Sparkle.
“Should Frau Rarity and Fluttershy be here for this?” asked the lictor, with curt glances towards the mares in question. “I mean—”
Inquisitor Sparkle sighed. “Look, just do it,” she said sternly. “If I’m to achieve verisimilitude, I need you to do it now.”
“I’m sorry, Frau Inquisitor,” apologised Thunderlane with an obeisant bow of his head, his eyes squeezed tight. He inhaled sharply, before he whirled round and struck the inquisitor in the face with his wing, the force of which threw mare’s head back.
“Lictor!” cried out Fluttershy in horror. She rushed to the inquisitor’s side. “What is wrong with you?” The stare she gave him would have turned a cockatrice to stone.
“It’s alright,” said Inquisitor Sparkle as she weakly waved Fluttershy away from her. “I asked him to do this.”
“But, darling, whatever for?”
Inquisitor Sparkle smiled deviously. “Moon Dancer’s patrons are watching this place,” she responded, as she dabbed at a small trickle of blood that ran from her nose. “If I’m to pass off as her, I must sustain the same injuries as she does.” She winced in pain and hissed through clenched teeth. “Have you confirmed anything from her?”
“No, ma’am,” responded Lictor Thunderlane quickly with a shake of his head, “she’s as silent as we expected. Dark Moon and Star Hunter want to get an oneirologist in to—oh shoot!”
“What; what’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry, Frau Inquisitor, b-but I hit you too hard,” he apologised. “She didn’t bleed like you did.”
“Then go back and hit her again!” shouted Inquisitor Sparkle. She winced suddenly from pain. “The injuries must match,” she said more quietly.
“Sorry, Frau Inquisitor.”
“Oh, and tell them they can’t have an oneirologist!” Inquistor Sparkle shouted after Thunderlane.
As Rarity watched the lictor rush out, she couldn’t help but wonder whether all this was really that necessary. “I understand the need to be disguised, but isn’t this taking things a bit too far?” she asked. “I’m very good at makeup. I could make it appear as if—!”
“No, the Flim Flam Brothers wouldn’t believe I’m Moon Dancer if I walk out of here unscathed,” replied Inquisitor Sparkle. “And it has to be real. These are veteran con artists we’re talking about. They’ll know if I fake it.”
“You shouldn’t even be hitting your suspects in the first place,” said Rarity in the same tone of voice she reserved for Sweetie Belle, something she really didn’t want to use on grown ponies. “This isn’t Sombra’s Crystal Empire.”
Inquisitor Sparkle scoffed at that remark. “You think the Flim Flam Brothers are any better?” she asked. “They’re criminals.”
“And how are they criminals?” asked Rarity. “You still haven’t explained who they are.”
“They’re smugglers,” responded Inquisitor Sparkle, as she levitated a pair of saddlebags onto her back. “They specialise in food and drink, but they occasionally smuggle in foreign books and films.” She smiled wildly, then winced in pain, as her smile stretched bruised muscle. “You remember the ash in Night Glider’s dream?”
Yes, Rarity remembered the ash. “In reality, whatever had been burnt wouldn’t have been reduced to such fine particles,” she pointed out. “Some larger pieces should have remained.” She also remembered the giant apple slices, and the seemingly never ending vase.
“Night Glider obviously though it was worthwhile to pack it away, so it must be related to something she thought was important or precious,” explained the inquisitor.
Given Party Favor’s part of the dream, Rarity would have thought it was artefacts, but what monster would burn antiquities, and what kind would burn in the first place? “Scrolls, perhaps?” she suggested.
Inquisitor Sparkle shook her head. “The only archaeological dig in the region is on your side of the border,” she said. “By the train station, right? I hear Doctor A.K. Yearling herself is working on it.”
There was another knock from the door. Thunderlane walked back in with a sheepish look on his face.
“Huh, you’re finished already?”
“I’m sorry, Frau Inquisitor,” apologised Thunderlane, “but I hit her too hard this time; she lost a tooth.”
Inquisitor Sparkle sighed as she lowered her head in defeat. “Fine, but make sure you get it right this time,” she said.
Rarity did not envy the inquisitor, but couldn’t feel sorry for her. Perhaps this was karma, the universe paying Inquisitor Sparkle back, although she’d admittedly never seen karma react so swiftly before. She felt sorrier for poor Lictor Thunderlane, who didn’t seem to be enjoying hitting two mares in succession, and her heart all but bled for Moon Dancer.
Fluttershy called out against this, but her words fell on deaf ears as Lictor Thunderlane struck the inquisitor again.
“There has to be a better way,” protested Rarity.
“I agree,” said Fluttershy. “You can’t do this to yourself.”
“Everything’ll be fine,” said Inquisitor Sparkle through clenched teeth. “So long as Lictor Thunderlane keeps things in check,” she added meaningfully. “Which tooth is it?”
Rarity nearly fainted at what happened next. This was not something she expected to see, especially not self-inflicted. A shame there didn’t seem to be a suitable couch for her to faint on at all. She guessed she’d just have to tough it out. Hopefully, the hotel’s spa would still be open when she got back. It was a shame she couldn’t invite Moon Dancer; goodness knows that mare deserved it.
Fluttershy was by Inquisitor Sparkle’s side with a bottle of antiseptic.
Thunderlane apologised profusely—a string of statements that blurred into one another—before the inquisitor dismissed him with an aggressive wave of her hoof. He literally flew out the room to leave the three of them alone.
“Now, where was I?” wondered Inquisitor Sparkle aloud, her words muffled by a wad of cotton in her mouth. “Oh yes! We have reason to believe the ash in Night Glider’s dream was contraband literature. Party Favor’s part of the dream suggests he was acting out something from this particular proscribed paperback.”
“Are you suggesting Caramel was smuggling contraband over the border?” protested Rarity. She knew her neighbour. “He would never do such a thing! Furthermore, how could he? Ponies crossing the border legally are searched thoroughly.”
“Don’t know,” responded the inquisitor with a shake of her head, “but we’ll manage to get to the bottom of this if we follow the trail.”
“And who am I to be disguised as?”
“You’re not,” was the response. “I’m to go alone. If you were to follow me, you’d be like a donkey amongst the sheep.”
The Diurnal Equestrians used the same expression to refer to odd things out, so Rarity knew exactly what Inquisitor Sparkle meant. “I’ll have you know I’m an actor par excellence!” she protested. She flipped her mane back with a light toss of her head. “I’m often called upon whenever the police and Marechaussee require somepony to go under cover. Why, I bet I could rival the movie stars of Fort Leaf!” She received a blank look from the inquisitor. “You know, Diurnal Equestria’s Hollywood?”
Inquisitor Sparkle sighed heavily, her eyes rolled upwards. “No, you’re not coming with!” she shouted. “The Oberinquisitor was very clear on this.” She smiled suddenly. “But I do need potential backup and you’ll be with them.”
There was a knock. “Inquisitor?”
“Thunderlane, come in!” exclaimed Inquisitor Sparkle. She smiled. “Finished?”
“I’m sorry, Frau Inquisitor,” apologised Thunderlane nervously. His eyes kept darting to the steaming cup he carried in one wing. “I’m really sorry, but Dark Moon and Star Hunter got a bit carried away.” He averted his gaze as he whispered something.
“Sorry, what was that?” snapped Inquisitor Sparkle.
“They threw some hot coffee on her,” blurted out Thunderlane. “I’m sorry!” he quickly added. “I’m so sorry, I really don’t want to do this, but—!”
“That would stain horribly!” exclaimed Rarity, or at least, she thought it would. She’d been drinking acorn coffee since she’d arrived—a US-led trade embargo meant Nocturnal Equestria couldn’t get the real thing—and she had no idea how badly it stained compared to real coffee.
The inquisitor’s right eye, the one that wasn’t horribly bruised, twitched uncontrollably. “What was he doing drinking during an interrogation?” she exclaimed irritably. “He’s not supposed to have hot drinks in there.”
“I’m sorry, Frau Inquisitor. I’m really sorry. I tried to stop them, I really did, but—”
“Just get it over with.”
It was quick. Inquisitor Sparkle visibly stifled her scream and her entire body shook as if it echoed within her. “N-now go b-back and stop the interrogation before you b-bozos break her legs,” she stuttered as she continued to shake, “and don’t forget to bring me the transcript.”
* * *
Twilight passed the transcript back to Thunderlane after she was satisfied that she had memorised it in its entirety. “Keep my tooth safe for me,” she told him. “I want to reattach it,” she said, as she gave a meaningful look to Moon Dancer, who was now a purple-coated mare who could have easily passed off as her if one didn’t look too closely.
“Yes, Frau Inquisitor,” responded Thunderlane with a nod of his head. “I’ll do my best.” He smiled gently.
“And don’t forget to be very specific in the commands you give Moon Dancer,” Twilight added as she gestured with a flick of her horn to the very stationary and very quiet Moon Dancer. “Don’t let her out of your sight, and be careful who she speaks to.” There was nothing else to do. She couldn’t afford to take Moon Dancer anywhere without the Flim Flam Gang knowing. It was best just to let a mind-controlled Moon Dancer be the best Twilight Sparkle she could be, not that she’d fool anyone. “I’m trusting you on this.”
“Inquisitor, I feel I must protest,” said Rarity, much to Twilight’s surprise; what did the Diurnal Equestrian want now? “Did you really need to inflict those injuries on her when you could have just compelled her to confess?”
“Oh, that. Compulsion spells don’t work that way,” responded Twilight. “You have to word your questions very specifically and even then, they still backfire.” She knew because she’d tried it on her own big brother; she had had no other choice, he’d refused to tell her where he’d hidden Smarty Pants! In retrospect, she should have phrased her question better. ‘What have you done to Smarty Pants?’ had given her a long, detailed, disturbing list of everything Shining had ever done to her favourite doll. She still hadn’t forgiven him over it. Granted, no one had forced her to euthanize Smarty Pants, but it was kinder that way.
“Inquisitor, Inquisitor?”
Twilight blinked. Everyone in the room—except Moon Dancer, of course—looked at her with concern. “Huh, oh, yes, I’m alright,” she replied.
“You’ve been kind of out of it for ten minutes.”
She laughed nervously at that; it was impossible for her to have spaced out for that long. Then again, it had been a very traumatic experience, which—no! She was not going to trot down memory lane again.
“A-are you sure you don’t want any help from my friends?” asked Fluttershy. “It wouldn’t be a bother.”
“I’m afraid the Flim Flam Brothers have cottoned on to your particular brand of espionage,” responded Twilight with a shake of her head. “It’s the first thing they’ll look for.” No, her plan was far more devious than that, something they would never expect.
Twilight inhaled deeply then exhaled deeply with an outward gesture of her foreleg. She wasn’t sure where she picked up this little habit, but it had always proved helpful in times of stress. Amusingly, she had heard the Crystal Empress liked to do the same thing.
“Well, here goes. Wish me luck.”
* * *
Every pony blindsighted her.
Twilight couldn’t really blame them. She had just walked out of an Inquisition constabulary with a cracked lip, a nasty bruise over her right eye, acorn coffee stains all over her sweater—which was admittedly more frayed than it had any right to be—and her mane a mess. If she was in their shoes, she’d do the exact same thing.
It was strange, though. She felt more alone amongst the ponies that blindsighted her, than she had ever felt whilst literally alone. All around her were ponies, but not a single friendly face. Even Concordia would not touch her, because she hadn’t discorded. She could collapse in the street and no one would help her.
“Good to see you’re out of there, Moon Dancer.”
A quick glance to her side revealed a pegasus mare with a turquoise coat and a blonde mane. She didn’t recognise this pony at all. Did Moon Dancer know her? She wasn’t sure. Certainly, none of the reports ever mentioned a turquoise pegasus mare before. That didn’t preclude them from knowing each other. What could she do; how should she react to this stranger?
“So, who told you where I’d be?” Twilight asked the mysterious mare. “Was it Twinkleshine?” She remembered reading that Twinkleshine had been there during the arrest.
The pegasus mare laughed. “Don’t be silly,” she protested and left it at that. She waited for a while until the crowd thinned out before she continued, “Good job by the way. That was pretty impressive what you did in there. The others were so worried you’d crack, but I knew you’d pulled through!”
“Thanks.”
A frown passed across the pony’s face. She shrugged off her saddlebags and fished out a navy blue modern-style caparison out of them. “Here, put this on,” she said. “You look like something the cat dragged in.”
Twilight took the cloak with her mouth. “Thank you,” she said, as she draped it over herself.
“You okay? How come you didn’t use your magic?”
“It hasn’t been quite right since the interrogation,” responded Twilight. “I’m sure it’ll get better.”
The pegasus pony nodded. “We’ll get a doctor to look at you,” she said, as she slipped her saddlebags back on. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get going.”
Twilight voiced a wordless agreement, before she fell into step beside her new companion. The two of them trotted through the streets, with only the sounds of their hooves accompanying them. Her steps were a bit louder than the nameless pegasus pony, presumably because of her alloy horseshoes, but it wasn’t that noticeable. Well, Twilight didn’t think it was until she started paying attention to it. She attempted to step lightly, which was surprisingly difficult to do whilst trying to keep pace with her as yet unnamed companion.
Their path took them through rush hour traffic. ‘Perhaps,’ Twilight thought, ‘the pegasus pony presumed potential pursuers, so she sought to stump the sinister spies by slinking through plazas packed with ponies.’ It certainly slowed down their progress, though not as much as it would have if the Diurnal Equestrians were awake. There were a few, early birds she was forced to blindsight quickly, but those heterotopic ponies weren’t much of a problem.
“Hang on a second, this isn’t the way to the Super Speedy Cider Speakeasy,” exclaimed Twilight.
“They’re not at the bar tonight.”
Nothing more was said. Nothing more was needed. Twilight noticed the way the crowds thinned out. Soon, they were amongst narrow terraced houses that soon gave way to abandoned buildings. These in turn gave way to abandoned warehouses, derelict ghosts of a once thriving economy.
Vacant windows with rusting frames stared soullessly at them, as they traversed a drab landscape, featureless save for spidery cracks and rashes of graffiti. The messages were rude, bordering on anti-authoritarian, but ironically legal in its use of colour; the vandals were rebellious enough to want to stick it to the Grosseding, but were meek as sheep when it came to Concordia. Petty as it was, the latter would have disappeared the vandals if they’d used any heterotopic colours.
The pegasus mare walked up to a building that looked in better condition than the others: someone had bolted clean sheet metal over the windows and installed a new door. She knocked on this firmly, then stepped back.
Twilight suddenly noticed a hatch in the door. It slid open to reveal a pair of eyes.
“Lang le-e-ebe die Nacht!” greeted the pony on the other side. “What can I do for you, ladies?”
“I’m here for the babysitting role,” announced the pegasus mare.
“How are you with foals? Do y’know… uh… the fireflies’ song?”
“Do I?” exclaimed the pegasus mare. “Moonshine, starlight, do fireflies make?” She laughed. “Sure, I do; I loved that when I was a filly!”
Twilight frowned. She also knew that nursery rhyme, and she was sure that wasn’t how it went. It should have started, “Moonlight, starlight, fireflies awake.” She inhaled sharply, as she forced herself to overcome her muscle memory; the last thing she wanted to do was act out the entire routine in public.
The door opened and an earth pony stepped out. He peered around them cautiously, his eyes covered slightly by the brown Stetson he wore over his long blond mane. It was outrageously long for a stallion—or at least, by Nocturnal Equestrian standards—as if being in the city wasn’t bad enough. An earth pony’s place in the Nachtkönigin’s Equestria was on a farm or a mine. Nocturnal Equestrian society took a very dim view on ponies who didn’t know their own place.
“It’s good to see—”
“Achoo!”
“Gesundheit!”
“Sorry,” apologised Twilight with a sheepish grin. At least she’d aimed the sneeze away from the stallion.
“Think nothing of it,” responded the earth pony with a friendly smile. “I’m just glad to see y’re back.” He stepped aside to let them through. “Well, don’t dawdle now. The twins are mighty anxious to see y’both. They’re on the warehouse floor somewhere.”
That didn’t help much. The warehouse was a hive of activity. Workers moved through the aisles, some driving machinery. There were a few humans there too, mostly East Asian and, judging from their clothing, naturalised. Twilight couldn’t be sure whether they were Chinese or North Korean. She’d be able to tell when they started speaking, but from afar, they looked pretty much like any other human she’d encountered on her rounds.
The two of them eventually found the brothers in an aisle that smelt of coffee, real coffee that is, not the dandelion root or acorn substitutes the Ministry of Food Control distributed. Twilight’s mouth watered. It had been a long time since she’d last had coffee; she’d long since finished the little stash she’d kept since Sombra’s overthrow. The US-led trade embargo meant none of this could have entered the Kingdom of Equestria legally; it must have been smuggled in across the southern border with Marehico, a name that humans constantly mispronounced as Mexicolt for some strange reason.
“Flim, Flam, lang lebe die Nacht!”
The younger unicorn turned around. He smiled, an expression that seemed too wide to be genuine. “Lang lebe,” he greeted with a nod of his head, as he trotted over. “It’s good to see you.” He gave Twilight a huge hug.
“Really good to see you,” agreed the older, moustachioed brother. “The way the Inquisition’s been acting, we were afraid you’d ended up in the incinerators.”
A frown passed momentarily across Twilight’s face. Were they insinuating that she was a different pony? It’s true that that was a possibility. There were families out there where loved ones were lictors in disguise; the original ponies had died a long time ago in Inquisition custody, their bodies incinerated covertly, and the ashes transported to the Labour Camps as fertiliser.
In the end, she decided not to voice that fear. However, she did have one other suspicion. “I suspect they knew you were watching,” Twilight said. “They were more interested in striking me than asking questions.”
Flim nodded silently. His lips were set into a grim line. “That sounds about right,” he agreed.
“You know how we like to put a positive spin on things,” said Flam, “but now—?”
“It’s hard to do that now,” said Flim.
Twilight looked to her companion. “I’ve been told,” she said, as she returned her gaze to the brothers, “you’re pulling back on operations.”
The twins looked at each other. Neither said a word. Their horns didn’t glow with magic, so it was clear they weren’t talking telepathically, or at least, not using a spell. Twilight liked to think she was close enough to her BBBFF to do that sort of thing, but she’d never been able to pull it off. Her brother’s mind had been closed to her, whereas he’d been able to read her like a book.
“It’s probably best…” said Flam.
“…if we continue this in our office.”
* * *
Their office occupied a mezzanine level. Its windows, covered in slat blinds, would have afforded the occupants a clear view of the warehouse floor space. A pair of desks had been pushed against each other. They were positioned such that their occupants would have faced one another with the large window to their side. Both were clean, not a single paper or file in sight. On each desk was a telephone that was either of Diurnal Equestrian design, or a Nocturnal Equestrian knock-off: it had a headset rather than a handset, plus a rotary dial that could easily be turned by hoof, wing or mouth. Twilight liked to think it was a Nocturnal Equestrian design, but there were limits to how much propaganda a pony could believe without being delusional.
Flam pulled open a drawer and plucked out a book. Its cover depicted a blue pegasus mare with a distinct rainbow mane, fleeing a bunch of ponies dressed in black overcoats. In the crux of one foreleg, she carried a sceptre and a pair of emeralds. The title read, ‘Daring Do and the Royal Jewels.’
Twilight smiled at the sight of it, though not for the reason the brothers supposed. “So, you did get it,” she said. She wondered whether the tracking spell she’d placed on it still worked.
“It was risky…”
“…but yes, we received it.”
“The series admittedly wasn’t quite the same after Daring Do and the Black Rod,” said Twilight. “I mean the fourth book was alright, but it wouldn’t exactly win any literary awards.” The Ring of Fire was admittedly a guilty pleasure of hers, but she didn’t want to admit it; not because Daring Do books were prescribed—which they were—but because it read like a twelve-year-old’s fanfic.
Flam shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“This is a Daring Do book…”
“…and it will sell,” finished Flam, as he stomped his hoof on the cover in emphasis. “Yearling’s books always sell.”
“Always!” agreed Flim.
Twilight bit her lip, as her gaze lingered on the book. “Did you manage to salvage any copies from… well, you know?” she asked.
“No,” responded Flam with a shake of his head. “Caramel did a very thorough job.”
“Which is both good and bad,” added Flim.
“Where is he now?” asked Twilight.
The twins did that thing again where they wordlessly looked at each other. Was information really being passed from one to the other? She would have loved to investigate. Oh, the experiments she could do! No, focus! She couldn’t afford to get side-tracked into such whimsy whilst on an undercover mission.
“We still don’t know where Inquisitor Sparkle took him,” said Flam.
“Sparkle?” echoed Twilight.
Flim raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Of course, Sparkle!” he cried. “Who else could have stolen him back like that?”
“Only she has the raw magical power to remove cutie marks like Starlight,” explained Flam, as he emphasised each word with a tap of his hoof against the desk. “And as the inquisitor that arrested her, she could have easily ripped the spell from Starlight’s mind.”
Twilight shook her head. “No, that doesn’t make sense!” she protested, perhaps a bit more animatedly than she intended. “What would she have to gain from arresting him in secret?”
“Why don’t you tell us, Inquisitor?” asked Flam with a smug smile.
“W-what?” spluttered Twilight. She looked to the two unicorns, then to the pegasus mare. “Y-you think that—you think I’m the—?” She laughed curtly. “Are you nuts? I’m Moon Dancer! What makes you think I’m an Inquisitor?”
“Your horseshoes for one,” replied the pegasus pony. “Moon Dancer would never buy anything that was sourced from the Labour Camps.”
Flam chuckled. “Also, you were right to think we had a pony on the inside,” he said.
“But you were wrong about which pony you could trust.”
Then everything went black.