Canterlot: jewel of Equestria, city on a hill. They said the castle could look out and see half the kingdom on a clear night. City of bronze rooftops, granite promenades, and cascading waterfalls.
Well, that was how the tourists saw it. The upper city could seem that way, if you could afford to live there. But most ponies can’t. Instead of gated gardens and sparkling towers, most of us live in the lower city, where the shadows of fancy castles and mansions are always in view.
I took a moment to stare at the upper tier, right as a huge bank of clouds came in from the west. The whole city seemed to vanish into the fog, stained orange by the brand-new streetlights.
“I said, you want another?” barked a voice from behind me, grinding on my ears like gravel rolling down a hill.
I was sitting at a back corner of Swill’s bar, the Drowned Mare. I tipped my hat to the old griffon, shaking my head. “Sorry, Swill. Working tonight.”
He grunted, shuffling off without another word. The old man and I had an understanding, ever since I’d helped him rescue the deed to this place and saved it from foreclosure. Weren’t a lot of bits to go around in the old city, but that rarely mattered. Favors counted for more anyway.
The pony I was waiting for stumbled in about ten minutes later, looking like he’d already been to a few bars trying to find me. Or searching for the bottom of as many bottles as he could.
“I need… swill, Swill,” he said, raising a shaking hoof.
The griffon looked up from behind the bar. It wasn’t exactly a busy night—wasn’t a weekend—but the regulars were all here. His good eye darkened, fixing on Empty Chalice. “I cut you off yesterday, Chalice. Get out.”
“Wait!” He didn’t wait. By the time Empty Chalice had noticed me, he’d been thrown out of the bar by an indignant Swill. I darted after him into the darkened streets, before he could fall off a balcony and ruin all my hard work.
“Hey, Chalice!” I slipped up behind him, though I kept my distance. Empty Chalice was the sort of pony who spent their evenings in bars, then sobered up in the morning at a salt lick somewhere else. “You come through for me, or what?”
He stopped, eyes half-glazed. “I… yeah, Midnight. I got it,” He fumbled in his saddlebags for a second, coming up with a stained bit of paper. I caught it with a batlike wing before it could blow away. “Directions. Don’t really seem like the kind of place… for a mare like you.” He swayed for a few more seconds. “But if you go, you should get me some. That would be… would be good.”
“Sorry, Empty Chalice.” I was already turning to go. “Take care of yourself.”
“You shouldn’t go,” he called after me, voice already fading. “Supply Chain’s got guards. Roughest ponies you ever saw. I don’t think they’ll hesitate to hit a mare.”
“Then it’s a good thing I can hit back.” I left him outside Swill’s. I didn’t have to search out a working streetlight to read the map I’d bought—one of the advantages of being a bat was that I could always count of my eyes, even in the middle of the night. Even when there was no light at all I had my ways of getting around, though that wouldn’t do much good for reading.
The stained paper pointed me to my target—a storage building located under a shady resale shop near the wharf. Apparently that was where Supply Chain had set up—and where my target was hiding.
I tucked the map away into my trenchcoat, setting off towards the wharf as quick as I could. There was no mistaking the bright red light, coming on and off all night. Airships were always coming in, bringing crates of expensive things for the ponies in the upper city. Every few minutes another horn would blare, signaling another ship waiting for a tug.
How deep are you hiding, Fleur, I thought as I walked, turning over the investigation so far. I didn’t how she’d gotten into this mess—only that half of Equestria seemed to be looking for her.
“You aren’t the only investigator I’ve hired,” Mr. Noumenon had said, a week ago. “You aren’t even the best.” The unicorn stallion had seemed disgusted by my back-corner office. He wasn’t the only one—it was barely larger than a closet, one of the cheapest rooms that could be rented in Equestria. Of course, he didn’t know this wasn’t my whole life. Nopony did.
“I think you’ll be surprised,” I had told him, grinning across my desk. “When I bring Fleur back to you first.”
He only laughed, tossing my retainer across the desk at me like it might bite him. But it was more than I’d ever had for a case—enough to rent a better room.
Maybe this is it. My big break. It wasn’t impossible. Ponies could turn their hobbies into careers. This job could be my ticket out of the Archives for good.
There was an unusually large crowd of ponies on the dock tonight, huddled together in small groups against the thickening fog. I took to the air, gliding high enough above them that most of them wouldn’t be able to see me. A few seemed like they might be lookouts. I didn’t intend to let them spot me.
Down a crooked alley that smelled like rotting fish, and I finally found the place Empty Chalice had described. There was no writing on the door, just the carved image of an overflowing drinking horn. The same one I’d found at the last place. Please Luna, let them still be here.
I wasn’t the only one hunting Supply Chain, not by a long shot. The Royal Guard were trying to track them down. They weren’t doing a good job—Supply Chain was always just one step ahead. But I could move faster than the guard. I didn’t need a warrant, I didn’t need royal approval. A little lockpicking, a little elbow grease… and I could get in just about anywhere.
Not that lockpicking would help me now. The door was unlocked.
The interior of the room was low, even for a slum. The room was thick with the smell of disappointment and old dreams and lit only with a few tiny candles. Somepony had stacked a few rough boxes near the front, and that was apparently serving for the counter. There wasn’t much there—the boxes looked like they’d been used to hold merchandise. An identical-looking crate was on the other side, half empty.
There, standing behind the bar, was Supply Chain. He was tall, even taller than I was, with a hooked nose and too-dark eyes. To him, I was nopony. But not after tonight. When you’re rotting in jail Chain, you can remember my name.
Behind the counter were a series of low booths, also made of old crates. There wasn’t any padding, or any sign of amenities. From the smell, it seemed that many of these “customers” had been here most of the night.
“You,” called Chain, gesturing urgently. “You’re here for a little love, yeah? I know that look.”
“Sure,” I said. It wasn’t hard for me to act shy—avoiding his eyes, shuffling about, tucking my tail. It was what ponies like Supply Chain expected when they saw me. Almost made me invisible.
But he wasn’t invisible to me, nor was anything else in here. I took in all the details—the list across the table, folded leather folio with names printed in it. Bingo! Bet Chain was dumb enough to keep his supplier’s name written there. If not, I’d soon find out. But I would have to be careful—I could see several burly stallions waiting in the gloom, looking very much awake. They pretended to flop about in a stupor like the other ponies here, but I knew better. One of them was a bat, and only focus could make eyes go to slits like that. He’s staring at me.
“I got what you need,” Chain said, slapping the little glass bottle on the table. It looked like it’d probably held some kind of glue before, and hadn’t been washed out all the way. The fluid inside was like nothing I’d ever seen before, though I’d heard the stories. Bright gold one moment, but it changed to green whenever a hoof got close. When Chain pulled his hoof away, it went back to yellow. Like a few drops of sunshine, bottled and ready to drink. “Purer than anywhere else in the city. Purest you can get in Equestria. Just fifty for the bottle.”
Yikes. That kind of money and I’d be out of a retainer in no time. Makes sense. I’m not looking for some mare off the street. They all say Supply Chain is the best. “Here.” I lifted the little bag of bits with my retainer inside, making to open it. I fumbled at the last second, falling over the edge of the counter. Hopefully Chain didn’t notice the way my wing extended, slipping across to where the leather folio had been tossed. Bits bounced everywhere, spilling all over the counter, and I acted as embarrassed as I could. It wasn’t much of an act—I could feel eyes on me.
“Sorry, sorry! I just… I’ve never come to a place like this before.” That wasn’t the voice of Midnight Oil, PI. That was the voice of Midnight the associate librarian, Canterlot Archive. The way I probably sounded whenever an important pony came to get something out of the vault.
It worked. Chain probably thought he was clever, slipping away many of my bits as he helped gather them back up. There had been a hundred in there when I dumped it. There were barely fifty by the time we’d piled them back up. “I can see you need it,” Chain said, pulling out a second, half-empty bottle. “I’ll take all this, you can have both. You’ll feel better.”
I nodded, taking both bottles with the coordination of someone who looked like she might drop them in a moment. “Just… anywhere?”
“Anywhere.” Chain said, his voice laced with greed. Maybe he saw the flank of a pony from the upper city, who had bits to burn and didn’t particularly care how many she spent. I wondered how long it would be before he saw his ledger was missing.
Not much time. He wouldn’t get this far by keeping hay in his brains.
I slipped down into the aisles, keeping my stumbling act as best I could. I took my time in each one, as though searching for a private place. It wouldn’t have been hard—most of them were empty. But I didn’t really need a place. I was looking for a pony.
I found her near the back, in one of the few corners of the den with any cushions. She was dressed a little like me—except that her coat was stitched with gold and the hood she’d pulled over her head was studded with little gemstones. No, my employer hadn’t told me the name of the pony I was looking for. He hadn’t needed to.
I recognized the face of Fleur de Lis, Canterlot’s sweetheart, from the cover of every tabloid in town. “Golden Bliss Claims Another Victim” and “Two Weeks, Still Missing!” They were the kind of covers that moved magazines.
The mare looked like a wreck. There were empty bottles all around her, and her eyes were tinged slightly green. She’d had a lot of the stuff, maybe too much. I sure hope this works, Quicklime. He’d been going on guesswork for his antidote. I would bring him the smaller bottle, hopefully he could get me something better now.
“You brought more,” she said, reaching weakly with one hoof. I didn’t sit down right away, checking the aisle on both sides. There was a door not far away—a door that’d been barred and sealed pretty securely. But if he notices I’m trying to take away his best client, and his ledger while I’m at it…
“Yeah,” I agreed. She looked like she could barely see me—the Bliss was all over her. Eyes that couldn’t focused, a peaceful smile on her face. They said a few sips were all it took to feel the love of being wanted by the kindest ponies in Equestria. It was better than days out, better than warm mornings, better than sex. “Hey, Fleur. Can you teleport?”
“Sure,” she answered, grinning back at me. “For you, I’ll do anything. Sit down, take that jacket off. Share a glass. I bet those wings would look better out from under your coat.”
I might’ve been flattered, if Fleur hadn’t looked like such a wreck.
I slipped one of the empty bottles off the table, holding it under my jacket a second as I filled it from the vial I hid there. The fluid was blue instead of green as I passed it back, but Fleur didn’t notice. I sat down across from her—hopefully Supply Chain hadn’t seen. He won’t want me bothering his bank account.
Fleur drank without even looking at me. Just a few ounces. Moment of truth time.
I could see the antidote working. The strange color vanished from her eyes, which went violet. It wasn’t magic—she still looked gaunt, like she hadn’t slept in days. You didn’t need to sleep when you took Bliss.
“Celestia above.” She blinked, staring around at the den. “How long have I been here?”
“Nopony knows,” I answered. I could hear shouting from the other end of the room—Chain, sounding furious. Idiot noticed his ledger gone, I see. “But hey, you said you knew how to teleport. I don’t mean to rush you, but…” I pointed through the wall. “I already checked. It’s empty alley out there. Clear shot to the upper city if we gallop. Maybe… maybe I could get a free demonstration?”
Nothing like a little pressure to light the fire under a pony. Before I could blink, we were through the wall, listening to bewildered screams from Supply Chain’s den.
“Who are you?” asked Fleur, adjusting her hood. She could cover her face, but there was little she could do about that horn. Still, I’d been right about how empty it was back here. I could see streetlights from not far away, and I started galloping prompting her to run to follow. Flight would be better, but this was a unicorn.
“After,” I said, once we’d made it out of the twisting alleys. I could still hear Chain’s hired thugs shouting to one another—but they were new to this location. They didn’t know Canterlot half as well as I did. Soon enough we were on our way to one of the trolleys. I didn’t have any bits left—but Fleur did.
“Keep your head down,” I whispered, as we began rolling up the tracks towards the upper tier of Canterlot. “I’m Midnight. Midnight Oil. Let's get you home… before somepony from one of the tabloids notices you riding a train with a strange mare, eh?”
She laughed. “Y-yeah. Right.” I’d seen that look—that was a pony wrung out. I couldn’t really blame her.
“Here,” I said, before I could stop myself. I fished around in a pocket, and drew out the other vial of blue liquid. “Only other one I’ve got. Antidote to whatever poison is in that Bliss stuff. Figure you might need it.”
Fleur levitated it out of sight almost before I could blink. “Didn’t know there was an antidote.”
I shrugged. “I know ponies. Just… it can only get rid of what’s in your system when you drink it. If you go back to that place and have some more, you’ll be back where you were.”
“I know.” Fleur stared down at the railing, and for a second I worried she might be thinking of flinging herself off. The trolley had a twisting path of switchbacks to make it to the upper city—a swift glide for me might be the last tumble a unicorn would ever take.
But it wasn’t. Fleur sat back against the seat and didn’t say another word. Well, except to stick up for me when we reached the gated part of Canterlot where I’d been told to bring her. My employer had said the private security would see her and let me through—and they’d been right.
I couldn’t tell the mansions apart, but Fleur could, and she knew where to go. We entered behind a pair of stone Alicorns and a graceful fountain. “Thanks for getting me out, Midnight,” she said, hesitating at the base of a staircase. “I’m sure… I’m sure my husband will be down shortly.”
I shrugged. “I don’t think I was important enough for him to hire me,” I said, honestly. I already felt uncomfortable in here—the polished granite floor, the beautiful tapestries and servants waiting by the walls. I didn’t belong.
“You might be surprised about that,” said a pony from behind me. I turned, and saw my employer standing there—a tall stallion, his face hidden behind a newspaper. Just as it had been in my office. He folded it down now, and I got a clear look at him for the first time.
Fleur de Lis’s husband, Fancypants. I glanced up towards the stairs to thank Fleur, but she was already gone. I couldn’t really blame her. “I’d like to have a word about this before you leave with your payment, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Sure.” I glanced briefly towards the window. The first light of dawn was cresting the mountain. That meant I had two hours before I would be expected at the Archives. Enough time, if I was quick.
Fancypants removed another pouch of bits, this one much larger than the one I’d left behind. “I don’t know how you did it, but this is yours.” He tossed it to me.
I caught it with a wing, tucking it away in my oversized jacket. “I notice things other ponies don’t,” I said, grinning up at him. “And I understand bureaucracy. Most ponies who do my job don’t care about either of those—they think it’s all brawls on the docks and interrogations under bright lights.”
“Yes, I believe they do.” Fancypants was taking me through his gallery. The hallway had increasingly-impressive objects on display there. Intricate gold jewelry, paintings, sculpture. Each item here probably cost more than I would earn if my lifetime. Some ponies had all the luck.
Yet a second later he put out a hoof, stopping us. There was a display-case here, with glass thicker than my hoof and lined with metal supports. “How would you feel about another job, Midnight Oil? You found my wife. She was what mattered. But now that she’s back… there are some other things that matter too. Sensitive things—too sensitive for ponies to know. I can trust you to be discrete, can’t I?”
“Yeah.” I tipped my hat in the pony’s direction. “Something lost? I think I can manage that.”