Scale Model was fairly certain that she’d had more stressful days than this one, but with the possible exception of the day of her civil service test, she couldn’t think of any of them. Usually, her job as a reptile communication specialist boiled down to explaining to confused snakes that they could only eat rodents from the forest, even though the ones that lived with ponies looked more delicious. Today, though, the earth pony had been charged with getting through to a ravenous beast that seemed more appropriate to old mare’s tales than reality.
Unsurprisingly, housing an animal that hadn’t been seen in the wild since for more than a thousand years was a fairly complicated matter, especially when that animal had already shown a proclivity to violence. Fortunately, it seemed that the ancient tales of the beast’s ravening hunger were somewhat exaggerated, as several dozen cans of cat food seemed to be enough to satiate it, at least temporarily. Still, the Vanhoover Police Department’s animal control unit didn’t seem to be particularly thrilled to keep the cipactli in its custody, even with Celestia’s assurances that their additional expenses would be reimbursed by the Treasury.
There were several reasons for this. Most obviously, at least from Scale’s point of view, the cipactli’s dialect was wildly different from that of other reptiles in the area—so much so that it may as well have been a completely separate language from standard Reptilian. This might have made sense if the cipactli was from some long-extinct species, but the fact that this creature was clearly alive raised all sorts of questions. It should have picked up something from the other creatures in the deep forest, even if that something was as simple as basic warnings.
Of course, it could have been completely feral, but that theory had its own problems. When it wasn’t hungry, the cipactli seemed to be not merely calm, but almost civilized, as if it understood that the reptile specialist was trying to communicate with it. Indeed, as the day wore on, Scale wondered if the creature’s lapses back into its ravenous state had been brought on by its frustration at being unable to make itself understood.
Celestia turned all of this information over in her mind as she listened to Scale vent her own frustrations. She had requested the princess’ assistance after all of her own ideas had come up empty, figuring that Celestia might have better luck communicating with a creature that hadn't been seen for centuries.
“Well, I shall do what I can,” Celestia replied as Scale finally reached the end of her rant, “but bear in mind that my grasp of Old Reptilian was imperfect back when it was standard Reptilian, and it’s had centuries to rust away.”
“It’s better than nothing,” Scale replied.
However, soon after Celestia followed her into the holding pen, a glaring flaw in the plan emerged: the last time the cipactli had encountered the big white horse, the big white horse had blasted it in the face with shiny stuff from her pointy end. As such, its initial reaction was to back into a corner and start growling apprehensively.
Celestia didn’t say anything initially; she simply stood in the center of the enclosure, offering one of her famously warm smiles, albeit a closed-lipped one. After all, many predators interpreted dental displays as signals of aggression, and Celestia needed this beast to stay calm.
After a minute or so of silence interrupted occasionally with a few seconds of growling, the cipactli visibly relaxed. Apparently, it had concluded that the big white horse wasn’t going to attack right away, though it still eyed Celestia warily.
Celestia took a few moments to retrieve the scraps of Old Equestrian still floating in her memory before addressing the creature. Scale didn't understand most of it, but Celestia’s tone sounded very dignified and respectful. The cipactli, however, merely resumed its confused and frustrated expression, eventually interrupting the princess with an irritated roar.
“Well, that didn’t go as I’d hoped,” Celestia remarked after she’d finished using her wingspan to cow the cipactli.
“How were you hoping it would go?” Scale asked, still eyeing the creature on the opposite corner of the pen.
“I had hoped that speaking the old tongue would provide enough familiarity to allow pony magic to work as it normally does when communicating with other animals, but then again, we have no reason to assume the cipactli has had any meaningful experience with ponies past or present. If that’s the case, perhaps our attempts at verbal communication are actually interfering with our magic.”
“Actually, I’ve already tried a nonverbal approach,” Scale said. “That only provoked the worst reaction yet. But I’m not an alicorn, so maybe if you tried...”
Celestia shook her head and rubbed a hoof against her chin as she mulled over this information. “I doubt that a mere increase in raw magical ability will solve this problem.” She continued to think silently for a few moments before she spoke again. “Treating this creature like a normal animal is getting us nowhere. Perhaps a different approach is needed.” She turned her attention back to the cipactli. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” she said, as if speaking to another ungulate.
The beast let out another dissonant roar, yet it somehow seemed to be a bit less confused, at least to Scale’s ears.
“What about gestures?” Celestia continued. “Do you know what it means when a pony moves its head up and down?”
The cipactli blinked a few times, as if it was recalling a piece of information that should have been obvious hours ago. This time, it didn’t roar, but instead nodded its head.
Celestia smiled. “Now, we’re getting somewhere.”
———————
“You have to understand, the noise really was suspicious.” Monitor had spent most of the morning trying to justify his decision to leave his post the previous day, even though Celestia had accepted his explanation at face value. It seemed that Monitor was the kind of pony who couldn’t tolerate the idea of somepony else questioning his competence, and A.K.’s repeated declarations of apathy on the matter were apparently insufficient. As a result, the previously taciturn guard had transformed into a bit of a chatterbox, and A.K. was beginning to tire of his distractions.
Of course, it might have been possible to ignore Monitor entirely, except that A.K. still needed their assistance. Her first instinct once the cipactli had been detained had been to return to the site and continue searching for clues, but by then, the Vanhoover Police Department had officers swarming all over the place—after all, the intruders had committed assault when they had tried to gain access to the workshop, which meant it was a crime scene. It seemed, however, that being accompanied by members of Celestia’s personal guard did wonders for cutting through red tape. More to the point, Monitor had seen the cipactli up close, and A.K. liked the idea of working with somepony who had a real sense of the situation’s gravity. That said, at the moment, she was far more interested in the would-be thieves who’d knocked out his brother.
“Look,” she said, turning her attention back to the conversation, “I’m not blaming you for leaving your brother behind to check out a noise in the forest. Celestia obviously thinks you were doing your job well, and I’m not about to second guess her. What I’m trying to figure out is whether those burglars knew that there would be a noise that could lure a guard away, or if they were just being opportunistic.”
“What difference does it make?” Ironside asked. As a guard, he was used to boring tasks, but he had little patience for boring conversations, especially when he was expected to take part in them.
A.K. groaned. She hated having to explain the seemingly obvious; she always seemed to sound condescending when she tried. “If there was coordination with the cipactli, that means they may have had some way to communicate with it.”
Ironside snorted derisively before answering, “If they did communicate with it, they must have been really quiet, because I didn’t hear a thing before they snuck up behind me.”
A.K. wrinkled her muzzle in confusion. “I’m sorry, but I don’t quite understand why you’re using a sarcastic tone of voice. After all, nonverbal communication is a thing that exists.”
“It’s not sarcasm; it’s just plain old irritation. I don’t see why this has anything to do with why we came back here. You said you wanted to try to find whatever it was they were after, right? Well, I don’t see how pestering my brother about that overgrown lizard is going to do anything other than making him feel guilty for doing his job and checking out threats to the princess’ wellbeing.”
“Thanks, bro,” Monitor said quietly.
A.K. sighed. “Look, I’m not a professional investigator or anything like that, but if detective work is anything like archeology, any means of getting in the heads of the ponies you’re trying to understand makes things easier. I’m convinced that those two wouldn’t have shown up here unless they had a good reason to think that they’d find something worthwhile, and if they were somehow in cahoots with the cipactli, well, that would support my theory, wouldn’t it?”
“I guess...” Ironside said, “but why not leave it to the actual detectives?”
“Because they’re used to dealing with modern ponies, and whatever those thieves were after would have been left here by ancient ones, and since several civilizations in this general area are known for using secret passages to conceal valuables, somepony like me is better qualified to do the actual searching.”
“And the VPD actually bought that line of reasoning?”
“Nope,” A.K. said, “but I’m working with Princess Celestia, and name-dropping her is a great way to cut through layers of red tape. I’ve even got documentation that allows me to get around any interference.” She pulled a small card out of one of her shirt pockets and presented it to the pair. “See?”
Monitor scratched his head as he looked over the details. “I thought you said your name wasn’t actually Daring Do.”
A.K. sighed and rolled her eyes. “It isn’t, but I’m pretty sure they’re just being passive-aggressive about a civilian sticking her muzzle into official business. Anyway, since I’ve gone to all this trouble, we might as well pick up where Celestia and I left off.”
She entered the workshop and found the room where she and Celestia had initially confronted the pair of burglars. Once the guards were satisfied that nopony was hiding in the shadows with another unpleasant surprise, A.K. began to systematically search the room, pressing her ear against every surface she could find as she tapped it with her hooves.
“So, uh, are you listening for hollow noises?” Ironside asked.
“More or less,” A.K. confirmed as she slid along the ground, “though that doesn’t always work if a passage has been particularly well hidden. Still, it doesn’t take a lot of effort, so it’s a good place to start.”
“You want some help?” Monitor asked.
“I appreciate the offer, but I know what to listen for in the first place,” A.K. said. A few moments later, it occurred to her that her nonchalant tone might have sounded a bit patronizing. “I mean, if you’ve got experience looking for hidden passages, I’ll take it,” she said, raising her head and making eye contact. “I don’t actually know if that’s the sort of thing you guys normally deal with.”
The two brothers looked at each other as they tried to figure out how to respond. “Uh, well, we do deal with secret passages pretty regularly back at the palace...” Ironside started.
“...but we kind of already know where all of them are,” Monitor finished. “At least, we’re pretty sure we know. Most of them were created so guards could quickly change shifts without being disruptive.”
“Right,” A.K. said as she returned to her investigation. After a several minutes of crawling along the floor and sliding against the walls, she finally stood up and brushed the dust off the side of her face. “Hmm... it must be hidden really well. I haven’t picked up on anything.”
“Uh, what about the ceiling?” Monitor asked. “You haven’t checked that yet.”
“This is an earth pony civilization we’re talking about,” A.K. answered. “Putting a secret passage in the ceiling would be awkward and inconvenient, because nopony would even be able to get up there without leaving a ladder out in the open.”
Ironside didn’t quite follow this reasoning. “Wouldn’t that make it the ideal place for a secret passage, though? I mean, you could pull the ladder up behind you when you were using it, and you’d be able to tell if somepony had been there if it wasn’t in its usual spot.”
A.K. opened her mouth to deliver a retort, but nothing came out of her mouth as she realized that the guards actually had a point. So, instead of arguing, she fluttered up to the ceiling and started tapping again. Seconds later, a loose slab of rock crashed to the floor.
“Okay...” A.K. said uncertainly, “it looks like whatever was holding that in place has deteriorated over time. Are you two okay?”
“We’re fine, aside from the fact that we’re going to have to spend at least an hour filling out paperwork to explain what just happened,” Ironside answered. “Is there a ladder or something up there that we can use?”
“Nothing I can see, though I’m going to need some more light to be sure.”
One spell later, A.K. was fluttering back up to the passage with a lit torch in one of her hooves. “No ladder,” she said. “Not that I’m surprised—even if there was something up here at some point, if it was made of wood, it might have rotted away over the centuries.”
“Maybe we should head outside to find something sturdy. I’m sure the police officers have something we can use,” Ironside said.
“Oh, come on, I don’t need a foalsitter,” A.K. called back. “I can handle myself just fine.”
“Have it your way,” Ironside said. “We’ll be here if you need anything.”
“Got it.” With that, A.K. directed her attention to the passage. It seemed rather cramped at first, like a long, low tunnel rather than a hallway, not much wider than two ponies standing abreast. However, this actually made sense, since the architecture of the building didn’t seem to allow much room for a corridor in the first place. Slowly and methodically, the pegasus moved forward, making sure that each stone slab beneath her hooves could support her weight before each step. The passage didn’t seem particularly long—the end wall was plainly visible in the flicker of her torch—but there were few places more dangerous than an old, abandoned building, where the comforting illusion of structural integrity could literally collapse on top of you in seconds if you weren’t careful.
When she finally reached the opposite end, A.K. was mildly nonplussed for a few moments, as it seemed that this passage hadn’t gone anywhere—or perhaps, it had never been a passage at all, and it was simply an unusually small chamber. She was about to give up when she remembered that she had entered through the “floor” of the corridor, and there was no reason to think that she couldn’t exit the same way. After a few minutes of searching, A.K. found the release on a stone latch that had, fortunately, held up to history much better than its counterpart at the other end of the passageway. The stone floor panel slid away, revealing a darkened chamber at the back of the building.
Grasping the torch firmly with her teeth, A.K. flew down from the passage and landed firmly on the ground before looking around. This certainly seemed like some sort of storage area; piles of unfinished glyphs seemed to be everywhere in the room. Most of them appeared to be blanks—which came as no surprise, as these were precisely what the burglars had come here to find in the first place—but at least one pile seemed to contain finished glyphs, all of which depicted earth ponies. This also seemed reasonable enough; whatever these objects were actually used for, earth pony glyphs would probably be in high demand in an earth pony civilization. That said, there was still something about these earth pony glyphs that didn’t look quite right.
Or course, none of this speculation answered the most obvious question of why these glyphs needed to be protected by a secret room, but A.K. dismissed the subject for the time being. After all, she was looking at the remnants of an ancient culture, and she had no idea what the significance of these glyphs were in the first place. Just because she couldn’t think of a good reason for all the security at the moment didn’t mean such a reason didn’t exist.
As she set the torch into an empty sconce on the wall, the archeologist spotted an odd-looking device in the room’s back corner. It was a stone object approximately the size of a nightstand with a rectangular depression set into its top and an image on the side that seemed to depict a creature with the head of a pony and the body of some sort of feline predator. It didn’t take A.K. very long to realize that it was the perfect size to accommodate the various glyphs surrounding her. Almost without thinking, she grabbed the nearest tile and set it into the depression.
Almost immediately, the pictogram on the stone device glowed red and a harsh, dissonant chord blared out. A.K. whipped the glyph out of the device as fast as possible—so fast that she lost her grip and sent it flying into a wall, where it crashed into dozens of stone shards.
“Are you okay?” Ironside’s muffled voice rang out.
“I’m fine,” A.K. called back. “I just found something that did something unexpected, that’s all.”
“Monitor’s gone to look for a ladder so we can join you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
“Well, he’s too busy looking for a ladder outside to actually hear you say that, so we might as well help you when he gets back.”
A.K. rolled her eyes, but she decided that there was no point in being snarky. “You guys still have that glyph from the museum, right?”
“Yeah...”
“Good. Bring it back here.”
By the time the two guards had scrambled their way to the back room, A.K. had tested several more glyphs. As she’d expected, the blanks made the same noise as the first glyph had, but to her surprise, the earth pony glyphs also struck that dissonant tone, though the glow from the image on the side of the device seemed to be more orangish than red.
“What is this place?” Monitor ask as he finished descending the ladder.
“Most likely a storage area,” A.K. replied, “and to answer your next question, I don’t know why anypony would hide a simple storage area, but I suspect that this device might be what’s truly valuable here. Well, that, or they were just trying to muffle the noise.”
“What is it?” Ironside asked as he peered over her shoulder.
“Some sort of tester, I think. I’m inclined to think it’s magical in nature, though I’ve never heard of earth pony magic being able to produce sounds and glowing colors like this does.” She dropped in a glyph to demonstrate.
After taking a few seconds to rub his ears from the strident blast, Monitor noted, “We have an uncle who makes magical devices that can do that sort of thing, but it involves unicorn magic that’s only a few centuries old at most. If that is earth pony magic, it’s really different from the kind they use nowadays.”
“Unification meant they could focus on the kind they were best at,” A.K. remarked. “Anyway, I’m fairly certain that this device is supposed to show whether a glyph is actually functional, but to be sure, I’ll need to try one that is known to be finished.”
Ironside shrugged and reached into his pack. “Makes as much sense as anything else,” he said, pulling out the glyph from the museum’s collection.
A.K. took the tablet from him and dropped it in the device. She assumed it would produce a dissonant buzz to indicate that the tester was in use. Instead, a sweet, harmonious chord like the sound of a choir filled the room as the pictogram glowed a soft yellow.
“What does that mean?” Ironside asked.
“I have no idea,” A.K. admitted. She pulled the glyph from the tester and stared at it in silence for a few seconds. “It’s definitely an earth pony, just like all the other earth pony glyphs in here, but this is the first one that caused that reaction.”
“Uh, I don’t mean to be a smart aleck, but it’s not like the other earth pony glyphs in here,” Monitor said.
“What do you mean?”
“The earth ponies on these tiles are all blank flanks. That one has a cutie mark.”
———————
“Anyway, when we returned to town, I spent the rest of the afternoon filling out paperwork to have the device transported to the museum, so I haven’t really had the time process all of the information,” A.K. explained as she finished her salad.
“I see,” Celestia replied as she brought a napkin to her lips to wipe away any excess dressing. She and her colleague hadn’t really had an opportunity to reconvene until after sunset. “Well, if you’ll permit me to state the obvious, it seems that these glyphs have some magical purpose that requires them to have a certain level of detail to be effective—indeed, it seems that individual ponies may require bespoke glyphs.”
“Of course,” A.K. said, “but we still don’t know what that purpose is.” She let out a sigh before continuing. “So, how did things go on your end?”
“I don’t think I could exactly call my efforts to communicate with the creature a failure, though true understanding still eludes me.”
“How so?”
“Well, we seem to have determined conclusively that it is capable of understanding modern Equestrian.”
“But since you aren’t explaining what you’ve been able to learn from it, I assume there was a snag.”
“Indeed. For whatever reason, its comprehension seems to be... inconsistent, for lack of a better word. All my attempts at conversing with the cipactli end up following a similar pattern. I begin with a fairly standard introduction, it and shows interest in communicating, but when I try to ask specific questions about what it wants or needs, what comes out of its mouth sounds nothing like any dialect that I or the reptile specialist are aware of. We’ve tried simplifying our questions as much as possible, but nothing seems to work. The creature soon becomes frustrated and starts showing signs of violence. Once these feral episodes begin, it seems to lose the ability to comprehend Equestrian, and we need to feed it several dozen cans of cat food so it can calm down become lucid again.”
“Well, that sucks,” A.K. said. “Do you think it’s getting mad at you for not being able to understand it?”
“We thought so at first, but that doesn’t quite explain why it has made so many attempts to cooperate with us. Scale Model seems to think that it might have learned that this is an easy way to acquire food from ponies, but that explanation doesn’t sit right with me.” Celestia leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for a second, picturing the creature’s face. “It may sound odd, but I’m certain that there’s a spark of intelligence in that creature’s eyes. It doesn’t only show interest in having its own needs met; when I’ve tried telling it more about myself, it almost seems to show genuine curiosity—oh, I’m sorry.”
A.K. blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Your facial expression suddenly changed when I used that word. I didn’t mean to bring up any painful memories of your friend.”
“Huh? Oh. Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that’s what happened, it’s just... oh, never mind. It’s a silly idea.”
Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “You’d be surprised how often ‘silly’ ideas turn out to be the right ones. Don’t drop your line of thought until you’re certain it’s impossible.”
“Well, alright. You see, it just occurred to me that I’ve been assuming that the pictograph on that glyph tester is meant to represent a specific creature, or a concrete idea associated with that creature. However, while you were talking about the cipactli, I realized that the pictograph might actually be depicting a process rather than some sort of fixed entity. A sort of transition between pony and beast, if you will.”
Celestia nodded. “Go on.”
“From what you’ve described, the cipactli definitely understands modern Equestrian, which shouldn’t be possible if it’s had no contact with ponies until now. But you and that specialist seem to be assuming that it speaks some form of Reptilian, based solely on the fact that it is a reptile. And, well, I know this might sound like I’m stretching things a bit, but when you take that fact, and combine it with the possibility that the glyphs are used for some sort transformation, plus the fact that we know that someone out there has a cipactli glyph...”
“A.K., what are you trying to say?”
A.K. leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling as she rubbed her temples with her hooves. “I know that this is going to sound farfetched,” she finally replied as she leaned forward and made eye contact with Celestia again, “and I wouldn’t blame you if you shot it down as wishful thinking on my part—though I can’t imagine wishing something like this on my worst enemy—but...” She trailed off, still uncertain about whether she ought to finish her sentence.
Celestia, however, wouldn’t let her drop the subject. “But... what?”
A.K. let out a sigh. “I think that creature may actually be Curiosity.”