The weather outside was cool and a bit overcast. A rainstorm was rolling in from the lowlands, and as the Canterlot weather team was perennially understaffed, the city would simply have to bear it. Minuette sat on a bench, head bowed, her mane rustling in the breeze. She heard hooves coming towards her. “Hey,”
It took her a moment to place the voice. “Oh. Hi, Starlight.”
“Um, can I sit down?”
Minuette scooched down the bench obligingly, and she felt the other mare settle down beside her. “I just wanted to say I’m--”
“I’m sorry.”
“...Sorry?”
“That I freaked out,” Minuette elaborated. “And ran away instead of showing you around the building.”
“Oh.” Starlight thought about this. “Well, I’m sorry we all made you freak out.”
“It’s alright,” Minuette said miserably.
“Minuette. It clearly is not. Does this happen often?”
“I--” she huffed. “Often enough that I don’t have many pals in the biology department. Or the chemistry department. Sweet Luna, the puns… Anyway, I just get uncomfortable talking about… that. Especially in public.”
Starlight repressed the urge to say, “Well, I’d guessed that.” That would be unhelpful. “Alright,” she said instead. “Do you want to talk about why you don't want to talk about it?”
Minuette hesitated, then shook her head. “It's kind of personal. I wouldn't be comfortable about sharing.”
Starlight frowned. This was not the reaction that she had hoped for. She told herself that Minuette had just met her. She told herself that good friendships took time to mature. She reminded herself that casting a spell to force Minuette to spill all of her darkest secrets would be a Very Bad Idea. Bad Starlight. Bad.
“Okay,” Starlight said instead. “Well, are you alright now?”
The blue mare hesitated, then nodded. “Let’s move on to the next part of the tour, alright?” Starlight said.
“Good idea.”
Both mares on the bench jumped. “Lyra! How long were you there?”
Lyra shrugged. “Only a couple seconds. But like I said, good plan, Starlight. This is clearly a mare in need of some lemon squares, and I know just where to get some…”
Minuette perked up at that. “Oh! We’re going to the library? Yes, please!”
“Your library has lemon squares?” Starlight asked.
“Well, not the library so much as the librarian. But Cross Reference is usually pretty good about sharing their secret sweets stash, especially if somepony’s been crying.”
“I haven’t been crying, actually,” Minuette pointed out.
Lyra frowned. “Hm. Well, try to bang your hoof on the way there, then. I don’t intend to miss out on lemon squares just because you can’t cry on command.”
“Are we making ponies cry?” Lemon Hearts asked, trotting up. “Can I help? I’ve been doing research into that. There’s this experiment to make babies associate a certain word with toys being taken away, and we’re trying to see if saying that word in their presence when they’ve gotten older still has the same effect.”
Silence fell. “And ponies say my hatred of psychology is irrational,” Lyra said.
***
Sunburst trotted through the main campus of the CMA. It was a gorgeous place. Classical styles of architecture merged with new materials, with brick-built turrets and steel doric columns butting up against marble plinths and enormous towers. It was completely erratic and disconnected, but somehow it seemed to work. Aside from the architecture, tall, willowy trees stood proud on islands of grass. Cute little squirrels and rabbits raced around the quad, apparently fearless of any larger mammal they happened to encounter. One had even run up Sunburst’s leg and perched on his head until he’d passed close enough to a tree for it to leap off.
In all senses, especially the literal, it was a magical place. There was only one small problem. Sunburst had no idea where he was. He was reasonably sure he had passed the biology building a little ways back. If not, he had no idea why it was under attack from a giant, glowing lizard. Unfortunately, he didn’t know where the biology building was relative to Dun Hall, so it made no practical difference. And as he heard the campus clock chime off in the distance, he was reminded painfully of the fact that he was due to give his talk on the emotional properties of crystal in forty minutes. He thought briefly that he might be able to navigate using the clock tower as a guide, but then remembered that the CMA’s famous clock tower was invisible and constantly teleporting, so that was out.
He considered asking a passing pony for assistance. He considered simply crawling into a hole and weeping with anxiety at the prospect of talking to a total stranger. But no. He had to be strong. Their highnesses, Princess Cadence and Prince Shining Armor, had personally asked him to be their emissary. They’d also each kissed him on the cheek, and the Prince had asked if he wanted to join his Ogres and Oubliettes campaign. So there was that to contend with as well. He couldn’t let his sovereign rulers who also apparently thought his goatee was ‘adorable’ and that his awkward babbling was ‘endearing’ and-- anyway, he couldn’t let them down!
So, he would have to ask directions. He swallowed back his fear and glanced around for a likely pony to ask. Her? No… no, she looked busy. A stallion like that would never give him the time of day. Those two donkeys were having a conversation, he shouldn’t interrupt…
“Excuse me?”
“AHH!” Sunburst spun around. A rust-colored unicorn stallion with a chest-length grey beard recoiled from his shout. Sunburst felt ashamed immediately. “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, you just startled me,” he hastily apologized. “I hope I didn’t offend you at all.”
The stallion brushed himself off. “Not at all,” he said. “I only wanted to ask-- well, you looked a little lost.”
Sunburst let out a sigh of relief. “Yes, I am,” he agreed. “I’m a guest lecturer, and I’m due to speak on, well, that doesn’t matter right now.”
“No, go on,” the stallion said.
Sunburst gave a slight smile. “I’m talking about crystal, and how it can be used to store and amplify emotional ambiance. I’m something of an expert on the subject, I’ve been studying it in the Crystal Empire for about five years now.”
“Interesting,” said the stallion. “And where are you going to be giving this talk?”
“Dun Hall Auditorium. Could you tell me where that is from here?”
“No,” said the stallion. “But,” he added hastily as Sunburst’s face fell, “I’d be glad to show you.”
Sunburst smiled. “Thank you! That would be so helpful! Um, I’m Sunburst, by the way.”
The rust-colored stallion extended a hoof. “Neighsay. Nocan Neighsay.”
***
When Starlight stepped hoof into the library, her jaw popped open. “Dear Celestia,” she murmured, gazing around. “I didn’t think anypony could have more books than Twilight…”
That was just the tip of the iceberg. The shelves were packed tight with texts, scrolls, books, vellum sheets, clay tablets… if a medium could contain print information, chances were good that it was represented here. And she could see that the building stretched up for several floors, with a skylight illuminating the building with a warm, natural glow.
Of course, if one were to venture any distance into the stacks, the sunlight would cut out almost immediately, but it was the thought that counted. Anyway, there were more than enough magic-powered lamps to make up for the deficit, all of them flickering and guttering unpredictably and glowing in strange, indescribable colors never seen in nature, illuminating the inexplicably rattling chains that bound certain books to the shelves. It was quite a solid aesthetic for the library at a magic university to have, really.
“C’mon,” Lemon said, trotting across the atrium. “They should be at the reference desk.”
Starlight stumbled along afterwards, slightly dizzied at the sheer scale of the place, and drunk on the prospect of all that knowledge. What, she wondered, would this mysterious ‘they’ be like? A hooded figure, swathed in rune-covered bandages, only a single eye peering out through the shadows that clung to them? A great and powerful wix, all flowing cloak and bushy beard and fire-bright eyes? Perhaps they wouldn’t even be a pony-- instead, some sort of alien race, all extra dimensions and third eyes…
They came to the reference desk. Two ponies sat at tables nearby, ponies that Lyra had apparently arranged for them to meet, as they each closed their books and rose to their hooves as the party of ponies arrived. Starlight stuck out a hoof. “You must be the librarians with the lemon squares, right?”
The shorter of the two giggled. “Us? No. Though, given the amount of time Moondancer spends in here, she’s probably just as useful.”
The taller mare blushed slightly behind her thick, taped-together spectacles. “Well, I wouldn’t say that,” she muttered gruffly.
The shorter took Starlight’s hoof and shook it firmly. “I’m Twinkleshine, and this is Moondancer. She won’t shake your hoof because she doesn't like touching strangers, so I’ll do it for the both of us.”
“Oh. Um, alright, it’s nice to meet you both.” Starlight glanced up and down the old, oaken desk, covered in grimoires and inkpots and strange artefacts that-- okay, fine, she could guess what most of them were for. But still, they were really obscure. “Are the librarians here… invisible?”
“No,” Lyra sighed. “Shoot, I was sure it wasn’t time for their lunch break yet.”
“And so it isn’t!” somepony said from behind them.
Starlight turned around. An earth pony of indeterminate gender grinned back. Their glasses sat askew on their nose. Their red coat was shaggy and fluffy, and their violet mane was best described as flyaway. They wore a striped scarf that had clearly seen better days, looped loosely around the neck. Most importantly, they were carrying a tray of lemon squares on their back. “Hello,” they said warmly. “I’m Cross Reference, head researcher here.”
Starlight hesitated a moment, then stuck out her hoof. “Starlight Glimmer.”
The librarian smiled at her, then glanced at the others. “My, my, we’ve got a crowd today,” they said, appearing mildly amused. “Careful, ladies, or I might start thinking you’re here for my admittedly excellent baking rather than the grimoires and ancient and forbidden knowledge. Well, except you, Moondancer.”
The bespectacled mare looked up and smiled at them. “Got anything new for me today?” she asked.
They chuckled. “Nothing newer than two-hundred years old,” they replied, and both of them chuckled, as though sharing an old joke.
“So!” Lyra said brightly. “Can we have some lemon squares?”
Cross Reference chuckled. “Well, I believe it’ll be some time before the Head Librarian leaves her office,” they said with a wink. “We can get away with eating in the library just this once.”
Starlight looked around at the others. “Is there some joke I’m not getting?” she asked.
“The Head Librarian never leaves her office,” Minuette explained. “Never. Nopony has ever seen her. The only reason we know she exists is because of the notes she slips out from under her office door whenever she wants a change in policy, and the only reason we know she’s female is because she signs them Ms. Dllydfwxyyd.
Starlight took a moment, then laughed, shaking her head. “Wow. And you don’t know anything else about her?”
Silence fell. The gas lamps guttered out, and came flickering back on in an unnerving shade of brown, turning the play of light and shadow into sepia-toned film. Cross Reference opened their mouth wide, far wider than any pony’s mouth ever should.
The Head Librarian lives in an ebony wardrobe at the back of your cellar.
The Head Librarian’s birth was recorded in one of the earliest known cave paintings.
The Head Librarian speaks in guttural tones of the death of kings and card catalogs
The Head Librarian’s eyes are the death of stars, and her breath the leading cause of cancer in grizzly bears.
The Head Librarian will, on the last Monday of the world, as foretold in the Prophecy, rise up and devour half of the population of Canterlot, who will return the next day fine, but with a crippling fear of birds and a desire to invest more money in the dairy industry.
The Head Librarian is said to be wanted in seven dimensions, and unwanted in four more.
The Head Librarian is said to eat paperclips and the souls of those who never use bookmarks.
All we know for certain
Is that the Head Librarian’s Recommended Book this week is ‘Anne of Green Gables’.
The lights flared up in a blaze of octarine light, sending Starlight reeling. When she had finished blinking the spots and hideous visions out of her eyes, it was as though nothing had happened. Everypony stood in the same positions they had before the event, and not one of them appeared fazed. Cross Reference smiled at her. “Lemon square?” they suggested.
***
Dean Green Bean was brooding. They stared out over the campus, looking grim. “Somepony,” they said, “has been spilling secrets.”
Dr. Ruiz cleared her throat pointedly, and the Dean sighed. “Someone,” they rephrased, “has tipped the entire campus off to our plan for this evening, and I would like to know what we intend to do about it.”
Arithmetic Mean rubbed his chins thoughtfully. “We could check for any reservations there that were cancelled,” he suggested. “They’d’ve booked a private room for the exchange. Won’t go there now, will they?”
“Unless they’ve already thought of the fact that cancelling would look suspicious,” Dr. Ruiz disagreed. “We should look for anyone in a private room.”
“Hm,” said Dean Bean. “And what say you, Bursar?”
The Bursar looked up from where he was trying to balance the accounts on top of a pile of blocks. He gave a dazed smile. “How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail?” he asked.
“Well said that man,” Bean said briskly. “We must be careful not to be so sharp we cut ourselves, you know. It’s possible that the deal will go on as planned. These criminals might think that with as widespread as the rumor is, we will let our plans fall through. Then, they’ll go on and do the exchange, and laugh at us in effigy, pointing and giggling at dolls that bear our features! Hmph! I won’t stand for it!”
Arithmetic Mean frowned. “And if they do change the place or time of the meeting?”
“Well, if that’s so, Two-Chairs, we’ll be in a bar either way,” the Dean snapped. “It’s the only lead we have, and I don’t intend to let it slip away. Oh, to think of it. A bunch of greasy, morally bankrupt plagiarists standing around and snickering at representations of our faces. The worst sort of sympathetic magic. Unsympathetic magic. Oh, it makes my spit curdle just thinking on it…” they fell back into a brooding silence.
Dr. Ruiz rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m going to go grab lunch, if any of you want to join me.”
Arithmetic rose from his place on the couch with slow majesty and trotted out of the room with his colleague. Dean Bean stayed behind, brooding about a voodoo ballyhoo.