//------------------------------// // Mercury Poisoning // Story: Metal Celestia // by Impossible Numbers //------------------------------// “It’ll never work,” moaned Slate as she paced back and forth. “It’ll never work. She’s mad. She’s genuinely, utterly mad.” “It will work!” snapped Clover. “Trust me. It has to. And she most certainly is not mad.” Still, as she sat on the hard chairs inside Chancellor Puddinghead’s stone cottage, she felt her own stomach knot and twist. All she could do was clench her jaw against it. Smart Cookie grunted through the quill in her mouth. From behind the main desk, the Secretary of the Earth Pony Tribe scribbled form after form, shifting them aside one after another with a hoof. For a moment, she dropped the rattling feather into the inkwell. “Ah know it ain’t easy, Clover,” she said in as steady a voice as she could manage. “It’s just that sometimes you gotta think of the big picture. She’s right there, at least.” Clover’s whole face sagged with the sigh. “Oh, Cookie! Not you too!” “It’s pragmatism, is what it is. Tain’t easy to accept when your closest friends show… uh… the less bright sides of themselves. It’s just part of livin’. Ah should know. Ah’ve worked under Puddinghead for years, and sometimes Ah still wonder why she ain’t been thrown out of office yet.” Slate reared up to the desk surface, forcing Cookie to drag the inkwell away. “Yes! Yes! Why hasn’t she been thrown out of office yet? You don’t intend to tell me that fruitcake actually gets any votes, do you?” “Now, just you hold your horses, lippy –” Clover ignored the raised accents and turned back to the porthole window. Candles burned along the walls, but beyond the glass was pure darkness. No stars twinkled tonight. The pegasi had scheduled a stratus cover. Inside her head, the words of the Dirtville town crier echoed off her skull. She’d always come down to the earth pony town and listened to his shouts across the plaza. Earth ponies had the biggest families, the closest ties, and the worst habits for gossip anywhere in Equestria. The town crier often knew about distant wars and local births and deaths faster than the unicorn scribes did. Hear ye! Hear ye! Between the imaginary clatter of his bell and the murmuring from the crowd, his voice dragged down her ears. Duchess Celestia strikes defensive division down! Madness grips unicorn’s finest! Reward for any news on white warrior’s whereabouts! “She let them,” Clover whispered to her folded hooves. “How could she let them?” Oh, she knew the reason well enough. The unicorn traitors had seen Clover and Celestia resist, and not even she had known how to modify their memories. Not that she wanted to. The ethical concerns alone kept her stomach churning and boiling. Slate herself had seen the carnage. It would have been the King’s finest regiment against two rogues, and so far Clover’s tip-off was unknown. After all, mages broke the rules all the time. Prophecies, visions, unnatural senses… Clover was no problem. She winced. Clover was no problem at all to a king, not when Star Swirl was several hundred miles away and barely weeks into a months-long journey. Slate had several alibis. Besides, hardly any unicorns would venture into Dirtville, union or no union. The King knows we’re coming. Celestia has to stay out of sight, and she knows it. I hope I don’t live to regret this. Finally, the door swung back, and Chancellor Puddinghead bounced in on her tail. At once, Slate and Cookie fell silent, the former moving off the desk, the latter plucking her quill from the inkwell. “Morning, afternoon, evening, and night!” A final hop threw Puddinghead onto all four hooves before them. “A little birdie told me there’s political-type trouble a-brewing in snob castle. Am I right or am I right?” Clover stood to attention and bowed low enough to sniff the boards. “Your Chancellorship.” “Pfft, puh-lease, Clovey.” Puddinghead waved a hoof irritably, scattering glitter. “We’re not unicorns. Gad, we’d better not be. Well, she is” – she pointed to Slate, who glanced about in panic – “and obviously you are. No offence, natch. The point is, no kowtowrowmowblowsnowthrowdrowbowknowflowbro-crowing. You got all that? We’re all friends here, right?” Her smile frosting over, Clover begged Cookie through her eyes, and merely got a shrug in reply. “This is important news. You may have heard about Duchess Celestia’s recent disappearance.” “What, you mean all that ‘Duchess is Deserter’ stuff the town crier kept shouting about outside my office all day so I couldn’t concentrate, the swine?” Clover nodded. “That’s right, Your Chancellorship.” “Nope. Never heard about it.” Despite Clover’s narrowing eyes, she saw not a peep or a tic or a telltale flicker of a smirk on Puddinghead’s face. After a while of being stared at, Puddinghead cocked her head. “You zonin’ out there, Clovey?” “No, it’s just… Never mind. The point is that Celestia isn’t a deserter. The King tried to get rid of her.” Slate beamed with pride. “The key word being ‘tried’, of course.” Puddinghead slammed hoof onto hoof like a fist. “I knew he was up to no good! All that going around, being nice and jolly and signing fancy-pants peace treaties at everypony. Well I say, once a scheming, uptight unicorn, always a scheming, uptight unicorn present-company-excepted. Well, Clover, any friend of Cookie’s is a friend of mine. Just say the word, we’ll have his digestive tract for that thing you use to hold up your stockings, what’s it called?” I’m with Slate: how exactly did she get elected? “Garters?” said Clover. Tapping her desk, Smart Cookie coughed and leaned forwards. “Chancellor, we ain’t startin’ a war. That’s exactly what he wants us to do. He ain’t so keen on this union thing, whatever he pretends to say otherwise. It’s ‘cause of his stupid separate districts thing that we can’t even mix housin’ up without him goin’ on about preservin’ our identities and our tribal heritage.” “Such as it is,” muttered Slate, who blinked when she realized she’d said it too loudly. “Come again, you puffed-up popinjay?” “Nothing! Nothing!” “And Celestia’s merely the latest target.” Clover tried to burn her gaze through Puddinghead’s own, through several layers of delusions and fantasies, to will her to understand. “He’ll try again. Unless we can expose his secrets to everyone.” Puddinghead saluted, knocking her plum pudding hat across one ear. “Gladly! You can count on us!” “Hold on a sec, Chancellor.” Cookie rubbed her chin. “Clover, why don’t you and Platinum jus’ tell everyone what’s going on? Tell all the ponies what you know? We believe you anyway, an’ the Commander would want to dig around to find more clues if he thought the King was after him.” Clover didn’t meet her eye. Beside her, she could feel Slate shaking the floorboards as she began pacing again. No! We can’t! We’ve already got splinter groups all over the place. The leaders need to show unity! If the King loses everyone’s confidence, then it could upset the union entirely. It’d only take one tribe’s fall before the rest collapsed into suspicion and hatred again. After all, everyone thinks I invented the Fires of Friendship. Me, the unicorn and the mage! I can’t betray the monarchy. Even helping Celestia, I was technically following royal orders. And I’m close friends with the princess… And should the King go down, and it turns out Platinum had been helping him… I can’t. I can’t tell the truth. No one else would understand. There has to be another way. “It’s complicated,” she murmured to the boards. “I have a plan, but it’ll need all the help we can get…” Clover the Clever raised her leg to the sheer oak, and hesitated. Closing her eyes, she rapped her hoof against the wood until a voice called, “Come in!” “Ah, Clover,” said Platinum when she entered. “Excellent timing, my darling! Would you give me your honest opinion? Most of my retinue just say how lovely I look regardless – which is perfectly true – but I wouldn’t mind a less rose-tinted valuation, if you catch my meaning.” Every stained glass unicorn stared down at them both before the torch brackets of the corridor were slammed out of sight. Around them, the expanses of carpet and tapestry begged to be filled; ghostly fillies ran about the floor, one white with a miniature dress on, the other deep purple and with her tiny hood down. They were haunted by the echoes of childish laughter. No! This isn’t the time for reminiscing! By the time Clover had crossed the vast shadows of the boudoir, she’d steeled her face. No point waiting any longer. I have to know. Opposite her five reflections, Platinum patted white powder onto her face. Only she seemed to know why; her face was so naturally pale that Clover could never tell the difference. “You look…” she began, and then stiffened her jaw. “Actually, you look no different. Why are you wearing that stuff?” Platinum sighed and continued patting her cheeks. “I will not be drawn into another luxury-versus-necessities debate with you, Clover. I really will not. Why don’t you give up on this silly subterfuge nonsense and come spend time with me? So long as you don’t crease my towels, I’d love your company at the Seven Hot Springs Heaven Site. Father already made sure I had an entire spring all to myself.” She coughed out some of the white cloud. “Please?” she added as an afterthought. How can you possibly be thinking of a bath at a time like this? Frowning, Clover shook her head. “Oh, pooh-pooh to your ‘sense of duty’ silliness.” The pad landed in its case. “You should join me, Clover. If you go up against my father, he’ll take away everything. You can’t have that! I know those library books of yours aren’t much, but even I can tell they mean the world to you. I’d hate to see him take that away from you!” “He can try,” growled Clover. “Please, Clover! Come to your senses! That boorish duchess is poisoning your mind with her sneaking around and writing those garbled messages –” “It’s called a secret code, Your Highness.” “Father will catch her at it. She’s doomed, Clover. And I have absolutely no intention of watching my personal mage get dragged to the chopping block. There’s a limit to what you can get away with, and he’s already looking for an excuse to blame you along with that ruffian you call a duchess.” Clover bit down so hard her gums screamed in pain. “Celestia happens to be my friend. I won’t abandon her.” “But you’ll abandon me, the princess friend. Doesn’t that count for something?” Platinum summoned the eyelash curlers and closed one eye for the tricky operation. “Besides,” she said to the mirror, “her plan is pure pegasine piffle. Anyone would think she wants a war between the tribes.” The twitch of the lips. The way she avoided any more eye contact. The slight spit in her voice. “You’re worried he’ll find out,” whispered Clover. “Aren’t you?” “Me? Of course not! Father has been kindness itself to me. He runs the country so I don’t have to, and now he’s teaching me what to do in case he has to pass it on. How can he possibly be wrong?” I can tell you’re bluffing. It’s in the slight shake of your hooves. I can always tell, Platinum. “The pegasus commander certainly likes him,” muttered Clover. “Doesn’t that tell you what you need to know?” She’d attended rallies for the commander – mostly made up of pegasi, she couldn’t help noticing – when he’d deigned to lower his cloud platforms to street level. Overhead, the underside of the cloud city hovered like a threatening glacier poised to crush them all. To this blinding backdrop, he’d spoken loudly and at length. About gratitude between tribes. About pride in one’s own army. About the natural dignity of the pegasi and the unicorns. About the work ethic of the earth ponies. Most of all, he’d spoken about the drive to greatness, though no one had been clear what he’d had in mind. Obviously not the centuries of warfare, surely. Pegasi had moved on since then… She’d heard the crowd chattering about him afterwards. No one had dared heckle him or shout criticisms. Pegasi didn’t bother with secret framed accidents; rumour had it that he personally had arrested over a thousand earth pony protesters. The armoured guards always surrounded him during public speeches. Lastly, he spoke a lot about the need for the spirit of competition. Clover was not a complicated political thinker, and she still remembered the heat and the light from the Fires of Friendship. Perhaps she was missing something about the current context, but she was utterly certain the spirit of competition hadn’t been prominent at that time. Platinum patted her cheeks again and snorted a sneeze. Suspicion gripped Clover’s brow. “Is that…” She levitated the pad out of Platinum’s grip. One checking spell was enough, a bar of purple light cruising over the contours and pits of the pad. “This powder has mercury in it.” “Quicksilver,” said Platinum, scowling away from her. “We’ve discussed this before, Your Highness.” Clover’s mind settled in for another round. Sheer practice had worn her down to the kind of patience only resignation could provide. “Mercury is dangerous. You shouldn’t be using it.” “The pegasi use it all the time. Pansy uses it in that ointment stuff she takes. So if you don’t mind, a princess can hardly be excluded just because her friend happens to believe, for some reason, that it can turn you nutty.” Her magic made a bid for the pad, but Clover raised it several yards out of reach. “Your Highness, please. It’s my duty to protect you.” Shoot! That came out wrong! “Oh, oh! Oh! So it’s your duty, is it? Well, don’t feel obliged to spend any time around me, my dear dutiful Clover! Excuse me if we happen to know a little more about that ‘original matter’ philosophy than you do!” Clover struggled not to pound her own face. “Mercury isn’t the original matter! It can’t be! Celestia and I did the experiments with snow and acid. Thirty-nine degrees below freezing point of water, it hardens into a workable metal. Just because it’s usually liquid, doesn’t mean it’s magical!” “Harrumph!” Platinum swivelled on her cushion, making it squeak in a most unseemly way. Her nose turned up to the air. The ghosts of old squabbles haunted them now. Clover cast a glance across the dark room, to the glowing arch where the moonlight passed through a stained glass image of King Thule the Ultimate. Ghostly fillies shouted at each other, cracking their voices while a ripped book lay between them. No. Don’t think of her like that. She’s not like that. Not really. “I’m just trying to keep you safe,” she said as calmly as she could manage. Platinum said no more. Recognizing the signs, Clover slunk over to the portal, ignoring the phantom crying. She always cried a lot. I never meant to hurt her. I couldn’t control my magic. Sometimes, she could be so crazy. Never mind that now. Focus on Celestia’s plan. Trust in the plan. As she passed through the closing gap of the door, she squeezed her eyelids together and focused. Clover stepped out of the boudoir surrounded by prickling chills. When she emerged into the corridor, she opened her eyes and raised a white hoof. The unicorn soldier checked herself over for any purple blotches. Some sparkles remained, but she stared at them until they faded to white and stopped shimmering. The purple hue of magic zipped up the last gaps. Sadly, there was nothing she could do about the magic itself. I hope no one looks too closely. Best not to use Impersonation Illusion at all, if I can help it. Nothing of the cloud city could be seen. She could only tell it was there at all because the stars stopped around an obvious dark patch, obscured as they were by the cumulostratus foundations. A whole county could have been ripped from another continent and placed in the sky to hang. To any outsiders, they were two unicorn guards. Thick as beech trunks, plated with lemon-hued armour, and staring as expressionlessly as moss-covered boulders, they didn’t dare move an inch. After all, the spell worked best if they didn’t move around too much. Three-dimensional complications would ensue. Clover glanced across to Celestia. She was staring up at the skies with a hungry twinkle in each eye. Or maybe they were just starlit reflections. It was impossible to say. Two stars winked out. Before Clover had noticed this much, they winked back into existence. Aha. A silhouette. Fluttering wings beat harder and harder. Both of the illusion guards lit up their horns, one with a purple glow, the other a yellow one. Two pegasi landed on the grass before them. “Commander.” Celestia saluted to the pair. “It’s Captain now,” snarled Hurricane, who shook down her brown plate armour as though trying to throw off a dress. “Stupid flimsy piece of garbage. And you don’t have to salute. You’re not military.” Yet Pansy saluted back. “Honoured to be of service, Clover, Celestia.” Celestia nodded, lowering her hoof. “We’ll have to be quick. The King will notice if his scheduled communiqués go missing.” Each tucked under the crook of each pegasus’ forelimb, the two scrolls caught the coloured edges of their unicorn glows. Two more rose up behind Clover and Celestia, levitating with purple and yellow sparkles. “Operation Special Delivery is a go,” whispered Pansy, accepting her scroll alongside the present one. “And I see you got the royal seal on them too. That’s a nice touch.” Hurricane grumbled under her breath, but slid the second scroll under her pit. “Remind me why we’re not just kicking the King’s butt right now? I hate this sneaking around stuff. It’s unicorn stuff, not the sort of stuff a proud pegasus should be getting up to.” Clover sighed. “Just fly to Dirtville. And whatever happens, don’t fight back. OK? OK, Commander Hurricane?” “Insubordination! Civilians can’t talk to a superior officer like that!” “How can it be insubordination if I’m a civilian? Make sure the sentries spot and intercept you, but don’t make it too obvious. Remember: you don’t know what these messages are, only that the Commander sent them specially.” Before Hurricane could grumble again, Pansy saluted once more and said, “Affirmative, ma’am! You can count on us. Let’s go, sir!” Hurricane coughed. “Excuse me. I happen to be your commanding officer, Pansy.” Grinning sheepishly, Pansy inclined her head towards the glowering pegasus. “Yessir! Awaiting your orders, sir!” There was a pause before Hurricane replied, “Um. Right. Let’s go, then, I guess.” Both unicorns dimmed their horns, and soon the flapping of wings and the wash of turbulence died away. Dark as it was, Clover could discern Celestia’s fake body shifting to the right, and hastily she rushed forwards and fiddled with the illusion. Even Celestia hadn’t managed to conjure her own. Following the dimming and relighting of the stars overhead, they kept an ear out for the flapping of wings and trod carefully across the hill’s rising slope. “You think this could work?” whispered Clover. “We’ll see,” was all Celestia would say. Chills bit into Clover’s limbs, but she forced herself not to care. This is treason, this is treason, oh my stars and moons this is treason. I never set out to commit treason. I can’t do this. Star Swirl would never believe it of me. What if he finds out? What if he already knows? It had taken hours of spying and crouching and trying not to scratch and fidget. Nevertheless, she’d seen through the gaps in the wardrobes and one garderobe – holding her breath inside that one – and over the noble mares’ shoulders to spy on their writing. Every time, the scroll or envelope received a stamp. The royal crest, shaped like a profile of a unicorn: its spear-like horn was obvious. Forging her own out of half a potato and stolen ink had been filly’s play. Especially since she could fake handwriting down to the i’s and t’s. “Halt!” cried a stallion. Up ahead, the granite tower lit up like a lantern. Unicorn guards ran along the great wall’s turrets and aimed beams of light up. Both pegasi covered their eyes. “Shut that light off, you horn-headed moron!” yelled Hurricane, and her next word cut itself off when Pansy shushed her. “Er, I mean… we have messages! So we’ll just be on our way, uh, good sir knight –” “No pegasi may enter or leave Dirtville territory without authorization. Please submit yourselves for inspection.” Clover crouched down. Beside her, Celestia breathed heavily. Both of them stared as the two pegasi drifted downwards. “Whereas unicorns, of course, have no problem,” muttered Celestia under her breath. Clover pretended not to hear her, but she thought, I guess even the generous King has his limits. At least these days, pegasi don’t get stopped for very long. “Your messages, please,” said the guard to the landing ponies. Hurricane and Pansy gave each other raised eyebrows. “But,” said Pansy, “the Commander said they’re confidential. We need to see the Chancellor directly. It’s very important, and we hope you understand.” “Here it comes,” whispered Celestia. Indeed, the unicorn guards began chattering to each other. It had probably been days since earth pony officials had gotten letters from the pegasus high command. The summits generally took care of everything, or so the King said. Both of them spotted the glow of the scrolls as they floated from pegasus to unicorn. Paper unfurled. Mumbling baritones followed the scroll down. Outrage flooded Clover’s mind. The arrogance of those… those… unicorns! They… I mean, we haven’t learned from last time! While one guard continued, another looked up. “You’ve read this?” he said calmly. “Why would we read it?” grumbled Hurricane with feeling. “Tampering with military communications is a court-martial offence. They don’t trust us grunts with a damn thing.” “Anyway, they’re sealed,” said Pansy. “We’d be caught out the moment we broke it. Can’t open them without getting a kick in the face, and I’m allergic to kicks in the face.” The guard spun round to other officers, snatching away the scroll before his colleague had finished reading. “Send this to the Lords and Ladies. The King needs to be notified right away.” “But sir,” piped up a newcomer. “What about –” “Let them go – no, they can come with us. The King should hear it from them directly. Hop to it.” Clover watched them canter along the wall, disappearing behind the teeth of the granite ramparts, carrying their glowing horns like torches. Under the slight orange crescent of the glare, Celestia allowed herself a small smile. “So far, so good,” she whispered. “Time to make sure the balance of fear is maintained. We’ll rendezvous with them outside the Dirtville main tower. We’ll make sure they deliver her Chancellorship’s ‘reply’.” “But –” Clover began. Briefly, two more scrolls flashed beside her. Then Celestia tucked them away and slid out of view. What about Pansy? Clover crawled backwards after her. And Hurricane? If they’re caught, it’ll be because of me. Hurricane alone has suffered enough this year. Just because she champs at the bit when danger threatens, doesn’t mean we should remove her harness. “Clover.” She bumped into Celestia. Sheer shock spun her round, and she found herself staring past the disintegrating white sparks of illusion magic. Two cold eyes gazed back down. Up until now, she’d never have believed it from Celestia. The mare had such soft, milky irises and such a lazy, half-lidded glance that even now she could hear the accompanying chuckle and see the small smile. Not like now. Now, she could only see what too many enemy soldiers must have seen. A stare with all the comfort and peace of a spiked blizzard. “Yes?” she whispered, “Your Grace?” Pain should have twitched across Celestia’s eyes. They merely chilled her further, still and silent as a mountain’s snowy peak. “Thank you,” said Celestia. “This would never have been possible without you by my side.” The voice was dead. Worse, Clover knew she’d killed it the moment she’d confessed Platinum’s name to her. Celestia had almost died a hundred times. They’d both dragged each other out of a pegasus scrum, or cast healing spells over the other’s wounds while hiding behind logs, listening out for the earth ponies that hunted among the tree trunks. Yet what else could she have done? Through the darkness, her gaze drifted to the scar on Celestia’s back leg. It had been the only time they’d gone up against a unicorn. Star Swirl’s first apprentice. A rogue. She’d learned too much, Star Swirl had said. That was partly why he also walked with a slight limp nowadays. They realized they were staring at each other. Clover looked down at the grass first. The illusion spell ran through her mind. When she looked up again, the unicorn guard had turned away and scampered down the hill. Clover hurried after the sparkles. Who ARE you? she thought. Oh Celestia, just who are you now?