If there was one thing Sunset Shimmer prided herself on, it was her knowing how to pick ‘em. In this case, knowing how to pick the right mansion for a bit of late-night thieving.
Crouching low on the rooftop, she counted under her breath. So far, she’d disabled the tripwire spells, the alarm for the tripwire spells, and the alarm that went off in the event of the alarm for the tripwire spells being disabled. Now she was waiting for the sapper charm to spread through the eaves.
“Five,” she breathed. “Four… three… two… one…”
Only her sensitive ears heard the sizzle. Every enchanted sensor around the building had just been extinguished. Not that there’d been many to find. She skewed her lips doubtfully.
From behind came several loud pants. Her partner-in-crime was more used to shouting than to sneaking.
“Don’t you think…?” The panting broke through before the voice strained on. “Don’t you think this… skulduggery… is just the teensiest bit unnecessary?”
“Lord Blueblood won’t miss yet another ‘shiny’ from his collection.” Sunset eased the window open. Not even any decent locks: obviously, His Lordship was as arrogant about his magical protection as he was about his mane-style. “You were the one who said the thing was going to waste.”
“Burglary wasn’t what I had in mind.”
Sunset suppressed a sigh. I suppose I can’t really blame you. A showpony likes the spotlight, not the shadows. But you did promise. You complained a lot, true, but you did promise. And here you are.
“But Trix, isn’t it worth a little risk?” Sunset tested the window with one hoof. The pane swung inwards on oiled hinges. “How do you think I’d feel if I hoarded this all to myself, without you knowing? Besides, isn’t there something romantic about it all? The moonlit thief, the master of the secret arts, and all that?”
“Oh, I see. So that’s why you ask the street magician for help with burgling.”
“You’re an open-minded mare. I thought you’d understand.” Besides, I need someone who knows how to arrange a smokescreen in a hurry. And who’s good with locks.
“Well… yes, but I see things differently when I’m trying not to slip into the road. Here's the smokescreen powder. Just be quick, will you?”
“Aren’t I always?” Sunset threw her a wide grin and slid cat-like through the gap.
Pity. Trixie would’ve loved to get a look around this place. Creepy old timber floor, menacing family portraits, the real red carpet: a magician could set up a hall of mystery in here. And… oh dear.
Sunset peered through the doorways as she went past. Disappointment lit up under her glowing horn: one room with an organ; one with a swarm of silverware and golden clocks and bronze statuettes smothering the ebony dresser; and one containing a baroque four-poster bed. Snores issued from this last one.
Hardly any spells at all inside the Blueblood estate. She tutted.
Nevertheless, the thrill burned through her, dimmer than usual but painful as ever. She’d used spells that even Trixie's stage props – Sorry Trix, she thought guiltily – could have equalled, and here she was where no amount of stern-faced teachers or uptight classmates could get at her! Horror sparked within, but it merely gave the fire a delightful tinge of surprise. Even the imaginary newspapers of tomorrow made her grin all the more widely. She’d know something the rest of the city wouldn’t.
Sunset peered into the next room, and there it was. She held her breath.
A guest bedroom, occupied by a four-poster bed slightly less baroque in design than the last one. Shelves up to the ceiling; collections of thimbles and neat little sepia-tone photographs in ornamental frames. Yet against this unassuming background – unassuming by Blueblood’s standards, at any rate – was the pulse.
The magical pulse was a heartbeat drumming along her sensitive horn. She felt her own heart beat in unison. Ba-dum… Ba-dum… Ba-dum…
Gotcha.
Planting each hoof down as if testing for concealed mines, Sunset eased across the room. In the dark, she shut her eyes – sight would only distract her other senses – and let the beat speak to her. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.
There!
Her eyes opened. Right next to the ghostly veil of the bed. She sniffed at the dusty air, which tickled her nose.
Oh, please… You can’t be this stupid, Blueblood…
Sunset reached under and felt the knock of a glass case. Both hooves guided the case across and away from the spot, and when she groped again, the beats ran up her leg. Badumbadumbadum!
Sunset didn’t look at her prize. She didn’t need to. As soon as she slipped it under the folds of her cloak, magic shivered like a cat snuggling up to her chest.
I still got the old touch, she thought proudly.
Once more, she slid into the shadows, glad that this time she hadn’t accidentally woken anyone up.
I suppose you think you’re clever, said the voice, stealing artefacts from rich ponies. Makes you feel better about yourself, does it?
Thief. Liar. Corruptor.
Yet the sun shone all the more brightly on Sunset’s face as on the stained glass windows and the rising shelves, and she merely had to beam to quieten that irritating little nag in her head. Besides, that nagging voice was a mere echo here.
This chamber had once been the Main Academy Library, but in spite of the books still nestled on the high shelves, desks and scorch marks were taking over. Tables and chairs piled up along the sides, leaving the floor in the centre clear. It was that kind of lesson, and she could barely stop herself dancing on the spot with anticipation.
Two others stood near her. Between them, they formed a triangle a leap wide. On her left, her fellow student might have been a carving from a sulphur block. The mare had tamed her mass of a mane by forcing it into a tight bun that actually pulled at the skin on her face. Her expression could have been drawn by slide rules.
Sunset ignored her. This was all about the mare on her right.
And on her right, Celestia nodded to her.
Sunset wore no cloak, no mane accessories, not even any horseshoes. She found it helped. Magic was not to be tamed, but freed. And Celestia was watching her.
Within her head, she pushed the magic out of the depths and sculpted the words of the incantation. Poetry sang itself to life, as graceful as a salmon leaping upstream, as swift as a falcon’s dive, as wild as a wolf pack chasing the scent and fighting the snow and all united in pursuit of a rich feast. She saw them all. Then she saw the colours condense around them, become a rainbow that encircled the images which now faded away, and finally the seven hues shot up and she opened her eyes to see –
In the centre of the triangle, the rainbow glowed from floor to ceiling. Motes of red, yellow, blue, and violet drifted like dust in a sunbeam.
To her left, her fellow student was unmoved. To her right, Celestia bowed her head once: an imperial nod. An actual imperial nod!
“A very impressive achievement, Miss Shimmer.” Thus spoke the voice of music, or rather the voice that music secretly wished it could be. “You’ve even mastered the subtle fade from one hue to another. Perhaps the world of art is missing its next great genius.”
“Oh, well,” Sunset began before she gave way to giggles. Part of her burned with the blushing so hot she could feel it on her cheeks, but Celestia could make even a silly giggle feel welcome.
“Hm,” hummed her fellow student; Sunset tugged herself back down to reality. “Advanced heptachromatic photokinesis with a complete, continuous plane. Opthalmos’ Technique, I think, though the cylindrical arrangement suggests… the Column of All-Hazes?”
“Well remembered, Moondancer!” Celestia’s broad smile closed her eyes for a moment. “Your encyclopaedic knowledge never ceases to amaze me.”
A flicker of jealousy rose in Sunset’s chest at that smile. Hastily, she stamped it down. Already, that nagging voice echoed as though coming towards her from within a dark cave.
Don’t be petty, Sunset, it murmured. For once, she agreed with it. Pettiness wasn’t going to solve her problems.
Like a robot, Moondancer nodded to them both; Sunset could almost hear the gears clunk and whirr with the effort. “Good demonstration. How long did you have to practise for?”
“Oh, a few days. I didn’t keep track,” Sunset lied.
In fact, using the artefact she’d stolen last night, the rubbed-in magic had let her master the spell within minutes. Even if she hadn’t roped the things in on the quiet, though, she had no intention of giving Moondancer any hints.
There was something… bristly about Moondancer. Every time they met, Sunset had the impression she’d done something unspeakably offensive in the mare’s eyes, but that Moondancer was far too professional to actually mention it.
When Sunset returned her gaze – all too readily – to Celestia, she blinked in surprise. For a mere second, she swore her tutor had narrowed her eyes and raised a sceptical brow, so imperceptibly that it could have been a flicker behind the rainbow.
No. Celestia can make rainbows dance and sunshine sing, but she can’t read minds. That’s just an urban legend. No one can read minds. It would be like moving the sun with magic.
Perhaps she’s read the morning papers, though.
Whatever had just happened, Celestia was now all serene smiles again. A flicker of gold along her horn made the rainbow column flare like lightning, and then Sunset’s work was gone with her fears.
She and Celestia turned to Moondancer, whose face was tighter than usual. For once, Sunset felt a rare urge to pat the mare on the shoulder.
Not that you deserve to pat anyone, said the nagging voice, but Sunset glared until it vanished.
“And now,” said Celestia kindly, “I’d like to see your demonstration please, Moondancer.”
After the lesson. Always after the lesson. It was getting harder to find time anymore.
Sunset didn’t want – couldn’t afford – anyone seeing her. She lurked in the shadows of the corridor until Moondancer had closed the double doors behind her, and then she tensed her ears until the hoofsteps on stone died away.
The lesson was over. The rest of the world was away. Sunset’s heart floated to the sky and sank to the floor all at once. She hesitated before she knocked on the double doors.
Knock… knock… knock… Each one had to be dragged out of her.
“Enter,” said Celestia from within.
Sunset swallowed and pushed her way through. The doors closed behind her.
Outside of her lessons, no matter how much her chest burned at her own outrageous liberty, she could gaze upon Celestia. Upon those limbs that stood boldly against the earth and the dust. Upon an equine figure that curved and slid like the strokes of a painter’s brush. Upon a mane that ebbed and flowed through a sheer divine power, such as that found in oceans and hurricanes. Upon a powerful jawline, a commanding stare, yet all in the service of a smile that had spoken of aeons and knew things she – mumbling, servile mortal that she was – could never think even in her most inspired dreams.
No matter how many times she’d seen Celestia already, and no matter how often Celestia insisted, Sunset still looked away. She always looked away. Not that her tutor would mind in the slightest, but Sunset could never present herself as someone who’d stare. She had to be better than that.
“Uh,” she said. “Celestia? I… have a confession to make…”
No! Don’t say that! she thought.
Too late, the nagging voice woke up and sniffed. Ha! You won’t go through with it. You don’t even deserve the dignity of a confession. If you hadn’t committed the crime in the first place –
Regardless of the nagging voice, Sunset forced the words to come. Celestia was a God. One of the Pantheon. And a friend, at least. Perhaps more, if she was willing…
Overhead, Celestia hummed; Sunset heard her step closer. “Plagued by demons again, Sunset?”
“Not… literally.” She found it hard to tell with Celestia sometimes; Gods seemingly did everything in the world.
The divine sigh warmed her fringe with its sweet breath. Sunset didn’t dare move.
“But never mind that,” she said brightly, and she dared to meet Celestia’s gaze again. “I can’t rely on you to solve all my problems, now can I?”
“Indeed,” said Celestia. It could have been curt. It could have been simply matter-of-fact.
“Don’t let me spoil the mood. Today’s another beautiful, sunny day. Why don’t we enjoy the flower gardens, or read some ancient chronicles? Or we could watch the ponies in the street? I never get tired of the view from Imperial Towers.”
Celestia’s mane continued to undulate, and not for the first time, Sunset found herself shuffling where she stood. She hated moments like this. Sometimes, Celestia gave the impression that she was treating conversation like a game of chess.
Finally, she spoke: “Sunset Shimmer. My devoted Sunset Shimmer. More than once, I’ve compared you to the brightest and liveliest of mythical flames” – her lips slid with relish over the words – “the Everlasting Hearth of Life. And that’s no mean comparison, I assure you. Yet sometimes, I wonder if the comparison is too apt. Flames change direction all the time. What enchants one moment can hurt in another.”
Sunset kept a blank face. “That’s from the Pyrotheriad, isn’t it? Book Twelve, lines… uh, two hundred and something.”
Celestia chuckled. “Come now, Sunset. You’re not Moondancer. But… perhaps one last lesson can’t hurt.”
“Oh, Your Godliness, no. I-I couldn’t –”
“Gods traditionally grant protections to their followers, do they not? Heaven knows you’ve earned one. Between your… fantastic progress in the art of magic-craft” – Sunset grinned apologetically – “and our many years together, I rather think it’s overdue. Besides, this last lesson may help you when you most need it. Come.”
And that was it, really. Radiant as she was, generous as she was, Celestia was still a God. When a God said “Come”, a mortal darn well came. Sunset followed her back to the centre of the room.
“You’re too kind, Your Godliness.” Sunset’s legs itched to flee, yet terrified curiosity leaned her forwards, almost salivating.
“Now,” said Celestia, turning to face her; at once both ponies stiffened. “Most magic is nothing to be afraid of. Normally, any spell we cast is a manifestation of nature’s power. Think of it as divinity, open to anyone who’s open of mind.”
Sunset nodded. During her youth, she’d wrinkled her brow over this, but now it was obvious. Nature, divinity, magic: all facets of the same jewel.
Celestia’s commanding gaze sharpened; her powerful jawline jutted like a shield. “What I’m about to show you involves another kind of force. The other kind. Do not ask.”
One raised hoof silenced Sunset.
“S-Sorry,” she mumbled, feeling like a foal.
“No need for apologies. Curiosity is not a crime. All the same, I have no intention of delving deeply into those particular waters. This lesson will merely be enough to save you, should you become vulnerable. No more, no less.”
Sunset frowned. “I don’t understand. What’s this got to do with being changeable?”
“I told you. Fire can brighten and warm the world, or it can consume it utterly. Now,” continued Celestia, and she spread her limbs as though to brace against an incoming tidal wave, “show me your stance. This may well save your life. No God can offer a greater gift than that.”
Oh, great. More teaching. This wasn’t what I’d have expected, if you’d asked me six years ago… Yet she said nothing.
Once more, Sunset swore she saw a flicker around those magenta eyes. Except this time, the God’s face was in pain.