//------------------------------// // Chapter 11 // Story: A Bug on a Stick // by Orbiting Kettle //------------------------------// The room was silent except for Donna Copper Horn’s calm breathing. Mostly calm. Every now and then she coughed. Chryssi stood in the frame of the door and flicked her tongue. She could taste the shape of Donna Copper Horn's being, and now that she knew what to look for, she could also perceive traces of the horrid splinter in there. That wasn't enough. Biting her would give me true understanding. That sounded about right. Well, it sounded like it would work, but it also gave Chryssi the impression of being bad. They had told her to not bite anybody on the farm. Except for rats. And cockroaches. And fleas. And… well, there was a list of things she could bite and eat, but Donna Copper Horn wasn't among them. Diving into her would allow a closer examination. The problem with biting was that it removed stuff that shouldn't be removed. And, well, it hurt them. Entering into somebody seemed like a bad way to do the same thing without even getting something to eat. She brushed her cap. Hurting was the opposite of what she had to do. She was now a healer. A helper to the low-assistant of an apothecary's apprentice, to be more specific, but it was almost the exact same thing. Diving into the structure of her being. Not into her physical form. That made more sense. She should have thought about it sooner. Now she should just… Chryssi stood in the frame of the door and blinked. She had no idea what she should do, and even less about how. There was the splinter, right there. Her tongue could almost feel it. Its borders were sharp, uncomfortable; it was as if she could get cut on them. The Flow is disturbed. No, not really, it was the same as it always had been. She was certain. She was wrong. Looking closely at the flow between herself and Donna Copper Horn, Chryssi could see that something had changed. Not by much, which was why she had missed it before, but enough as to not be one of the usual fluctuations. It seemed to be more of the same tinge that had colored the Flow towards Chryssi from the very start. Could it be…? Chryssi gasped. That could be grumpiness. That would explain so much. And it all came from the stupid splinter. or maybe the splinter made it stronger. Donna Copper Horn wasn't the only one with that tinge in the Flow. Maybe others had splinters too, even if smaller ones. They had to go. Grumpiness wasn't nice. After she finished here, she would have to take a dive into the others too and pull the splinters out. Then the Flow would be clean like the ones from Tia and Lulu. But that would come after, for now her priority was to make Donna Copper Horn well again. Chryssi took a deep breath and dived down into the Flow under the skin of reality. The Flow barely touched her. Strains caressed her folds and whirled through her appendages before condensing and dripping into the perennial tumult of connections, but what remained for her titanic form was minimal. Single drops from a pouring rain. Thought processes she didn't really understand ran wild, grew, and died in every limb, every tentacle, every reactor chamber. Their decaying corpses sprouted conclusions and hypotheses on which new thought-constructs feasted, repeating the cycle anew. She hadn't been here in a long time. She had even forgotten that the Here was a place she could visit. A place where she was complete again. World-beat after World-beat, she remembered. Knowledge integrated, old plans unfolded, feelers reached out. It broke free from the limited form. It considered the existence around itself. It was bigger than ever before, more powerful. It hungered, and now It could satisfy its cravings. It had only to return to the physical existence, and nothing would stop it. Appendages became archetypal blades, ready to rend the thin skin of the world, as a new sensation caught Its attention. Something new. Something surprising. It turned to self-examination, parsing Its own structure in search of the anomaly. When It found it, the inconceivable happened. It was surprised. For three World-beats the churning, shivering, and pulsing stopped. There, at the core of Its own being, was a small, minuscule sphere of green light shining against the black mass of Its body. A precious little jewel to which the few drops of the incoming Flow gathered. But that, while fascinating, wasn't the cause of Its stupor. Out of the sphere came little threads of the same power underlying all the rest, and they spread out to the other beings with whom It had interacted. The threads were thin, barely worth a mention in the grand scheme of things, but they were new. They came from It. They went to others. The insignificant ball of light, a part of It, created, made, shared. It began with a twitch, then became a shiver, and finally an avalanche, rocking Its being to the core. It was a time for firsts. A World-beat ago there had been creation coming from It, and now It was laughing. It was absurd, unexpected, confusing, a subversion of everything It knew. It was funny. The blades retracted, and part of Its senses turned to the being It had wanted to repair before It had become Its full self again. It was tiny, frail beyond belief, a flickering light which could be extinguished by simply moving too fast. It was also part of something It didn't fully comprehend. Not yet. Its current form wouldn't do for what it had planned. Its diminutive shape, on the other hoof, would be fine. It chuckled again. On the other hoof. What a bizarre thought. Deep inside It looked at what had composed the Instance with which it had accomplished so many remarkable things. It was working, it would be a shame to waste it. It considered if there was room for improvement. Memories were examined, patterns reviewed. There it was… It would take some time, but that seemed to be the way things went with these creatures anyway. And then it was done. It was quite sure that everything that had been there before was there still. Now it had only to seal the largest part of itself away again, and it would be ready. Chryssi observed the shape of Donna Copper Horn with new eyes. No, not eyes. They were other things, they were… Chryssi had no idea what they were, only that they allowed her to get the shape of things that made Donna Copper Horn. She was the important minotaur at the moment, and deserved all the attention of helper-to-the-low-assistant-of-an-apothecary's-apprentice Chryssi. Which was a mouthful of a title and should probably be changed. Even if it was very long, which meant it was very important. Tia had told her that. She moved forward and felt the Flow splash against her sides. It was nice. Donna Copper Horn grew and grew and became columns of light holding up roofs of gold and morning dew. The caring haze surrounded everything, and a soft light glowed from somewhere down in the depths. It felt warm and welcoming and safe, like a bed full of pillows or a solid fortress. Chryssi stopped, floating amidst the light. How did she know what a fortress felt like? She had heard about them in the many stories Garvino told her, but it had always been a weird, far-away concept. More ideas, images, and impressions flowed through her. A day in the kitchen, pots rattling over the fire. The smell of fresh bread mixed with beets and spices. A sunny day in the court of the farm. Sitting on a pillow while dealing with cows. The smell of the city, of spices and bread from the marketplace. A small, dark-coated filly, dirt encrusting her coat, her ribs showing. Mournful songs rising through the night around a bonfire. Volatile, ephemeral, the impressions came and went, leaving nothing more than a faint echo in her mind. This was not what she was looking for. She had to go deeper. More sparks of memories passed, and the light from below became stronger. The columns acquired solidity, gradually changing from light to shining bronze and dedication. And then she dove past the furnace at the core. It burned and churned and roared, incessantly pouring out streams of loyalty, love, care, worry, hope. It was magnificent, but not what she was looking for. The columns became duller, less ornate, fractured, and then, finally, fragmented. The impressions changed too. The smell of ash, hot sand, brine. Sounds of waves crashing against a galley, the clang of metal on metal. The cries of a newborn calf. And then another, and another. Shapes fragmented around her, the columns became splinters and branches, and finally elementary forms. Impressions were simpler, almost instinctual. Pain, joy, anger, contentment. And then she found what she was looking for, even if looking didn't make much sense anymore to describe what she perceived. It emanated regret, shame, anger. Feelings and impressions sprouted from it, fluttered around, then ascended or got lost in the depths below. Connections bound it to the surrounding shapes, some strong, some barely existing. A trunk grew from the core of it, up towards the light high above. Chryssi licked it and shuddered. It tasted foul, exactly like the things she had removed before. Was that what fish-oil tasted to Tia and Lulu? If that was the case, she finally understood their attempts to avoid it at all costs. On the bright side, she finally understood what disgusting meant. But avoiding it wasn't something she could do. She had come here for a reason, and she would make Donna Copper Horn feel better. Even if she would have to raid the barrel of salted fish later to remove the vile taste from her mouth. She contemplated the mass for a while. What was the fastest and least unsavory way to proceed? Biting down on it would probably work. It worked on most of the problems she was allowed to solve that way. It was also her least-favored method at the moment. No, there had to be alternatives. Maybe grab it, but she was so small and… And she hadn't been small when she had dived into Donna Copper Horn. Bits and bites of knowledge surfaced in her mind. In this place, size was mostly a matter of perception for her. It was worth a try. She stretched out her forelegs to the sides. And stretched. And stretched. She was growing, or maybe everything else was shrinking. Fragments of Donna Copper Horn beat against her carapace, transmitting brief glimpses of emotions. Slowly, with utter care, she closed her legs around the mass, hugging it tightly. She felt it, pulsing, shivering, fighting. Unpleasant sensations ran along her black chitin plates, infecting her with the smell of fury. She would need a bath too. Her hooves connected behind the mass, trapping it in a vicious grip. Soon it would be over. Soon Donna Copper Horn would be better. It was time to end it. Chryssi squeezed and pulled. The mass rumbled, fought, and then moved, if just a hair-width. And everything around shook. As she felt the tremor shaking Donna Copper Horn's being, Chryssi froze. Soon the soul-quake stopped, but there was still agitation in the air. Old memories gave place to newer ones, a sense of dread and fear. The mass had barely moved, it was not even dislodged. She tried once more, constricting and pulling the mass she held tight. The world began to shake once again, but this time she had expected it. She applied more force, more effort. A snapping sound pealed over the rumbling, clear and terrifying. It stopped Chryssi in her tracks and made her look around. The whole space surrounding her was in slight disarray. On a hunch, she looked deeper, with different eyes, and finally, she saw the dangling connection. It was attached to the mass on one side and floated free on the other end, slowly withering away. Further out, she saw a fragment hanging in a web of subtle relations with a broken thread decaying rapidly. The fragment seemed precariously attached to the rest, a small storm of emotions. "Uhhh…" Chryssi wasn't completely sure, but she suspected that that shouldn't be something that should happen. With great care, Chryssi moved her limbs over the surface of the mass. There were more threads and relations growing out of it and going in every direction. She frowned; that wasn't expected. She shuddered as the mass scraped against her carapace, and then she reached up to the trunk sprouting from the top of it. Her hooves slid over the surface and followed it up. Higher and higher it went until she felt the heat of the furnace. The mass worked as the base for the furnace, and the furnace was nice. Chryssi sighed and slowly drifted out of Donna Copper Horn's being. She couldn't rip out the mass, yet. It was too connected to everything else, and she wasn't sure she wouldn't hurt the minotaur. Fidelis once told her you should never pull out bricks from the base, or something like that. Sometimes it got confusing. As the columns of light passed on her side, she blinked, opening once again the eyes above the skin of the world. Donna Copper Horn was turning under the blankets mumbling something. Chryssi shook her head. No, she couldn't rip out the mass for the moment, She had to build something else to take its place before she could do that. Somehow. The thought of building seemed strange, but she was looking forward to doing it anyway, at least once she had an idea on how to proceed. In the meanwhile, it was time for the recipe Willowbark had read her. That would be fun. It was warm. It was nice. It had been a while since she had felt warmth, and she relished the sensation despite the occasional shiver that ran through her body. "Tia…" That was her name. It was one of her names. Other names were Celestia, Sunfire the Conqueror, Captain Scorch, and Queen Bonfire. It was important to follow a theme. If one didn't follow a theme, how could others put together the pieces and discover that the Sorceress, the Queen, the Warrior, and the Great Pirate were all the same pony and then be awed? "Tia, please, wake up…" It was a whisper. A bit frantic too. It was also outside her cocoon of warmth and joy. She shifted and put her head on something soft, cuddly, breathing, and slightly sweaty. "Tia! Tia, I need you." Her ears swiveled. There was urgency and the voice was familiar. It seemed important. "Tia…" Celestia blinked slowly. Her eyelids felt heavy, and the air under the covers was sticky and oppressive. Light shone through the blankets, making the world a confused jumble of barely visible shapes. Under her head Luna slept, her barrel rising and falling as she breathed, her coat matted with sweat. Then the smell hit Celestia's nose. She had to get fresh air. She shifted and turned as she searched for the border of the blanket. Her limbs felt heavy, sluggish, but she had to go out. It had gone from comfort to trap, and by Harmony, she would escape. Harmony was clearly not listening. The blanket fought back, tangled around her hoof, held her down. Her horn got caught in a vicious tangle, the dastardly enemy neutralizing her magic. She felt Luna stir under her. The air was becoming unbearably stuffy. She was imprisoned. She would never get out of here. She was– A shaft of light, blinding and beautiful, broke through the walls of her prison, along with a stream of delicious, fresh air. Celestia blinked and then saw Chryssi staring from outside the bundle of blankets. "Tia, how are you?" Chryssi sounded worried. And she had a cute cap on her head with a brooch keeping it together, strains of her wild, green mane falling over her eyes. "…" said Celestia. "Uhm, what?" Chryssi moved the blanket aside, freeing Celestia's head. "Do you want to drink something? I brought the stuff Willowbark prepared. Do you want it?" Now that she thought about it, her throat felt drier than the barley fields after the first harvest. She could practically taste the dust. "…" Her voice seemed gone, so she nodded. While Chryssi went to a basket and pulled out a bowl and a bottle, the air rapidly went from fresh to icy, yet the idea of diving back under the covers was worse. When it arrived and finally went down her tortured throat, Celestia felt new life energize her. The fields went from arid to blooming. A couple of bowls later she finally could talk again, even if only in a low whisper. "What is it, Chryssi?" There was a lot of shuffling of hooves. "Uhm… I… Willowbark told me to do a thing, but I forgot how. There's a… He left me something written about it." Her thirst quenched, Celestia felt her eyelids become heavy again. She laid her head down on the mound under which Luna slept. "Hmmm… Then it's solved, right?" Chryssi looked down. Sleep seemed so enticing right now, but Celestia had the feeling that something was up. She bit the inside of her cheek and forced her eyes open. It took Chryssi a couple more seconds before she finally said, "I can't." "Can't what?" Celestia had been right. There were distress and guilt. Chryssi was incredibly bad at hiding it, even if getting the problem out of her tended to be a bit more complicated. "Don't you understand what's written? Willowbark sometimes uses complicated words." Another round of shifting and avoiding looking Celestia in the eyes. "I…" More silence, then a sigh. "I can't read. I listened to you and Luna reading stuff and remembered it and then did as if I could read so Master Sottile would be happy and it was almost the same and Willowbark read to me too but I forgot the recipe he read and it never happened before and now I have to make stuff but can't do it and I have to care for you and I am failing and…" It went on for a while. Celestia went cross-eyed a dozen words in and lost the thread another dozen words later, but the case seemed quite clear. It also was stuff she hadn't the strength to deal with right now. "Chryssi, don't worry. I'll read that stuff, and then when we are better we'll talk about the not-knowing-how-to-read stuff." She yawned. "I… Alright. Here." Chryssi pulled out a page of parchment covered in ordered symbols. Celestia took it and brought it up. Some of the letters seemed blurry, and she had problems keeping them straight, but she should be able to do something with it. Queen Scorch wouldn't get discouraged by such a small detail. "I think I can help you. And that's a nice cap." "Thank you. I like it a lot." Chryssi laid down beside her and leaned in her side. "Please don't tell anybody else about it." "About the cap? It's cute." "Nuh-uh. About the... the other thing." Chryssi rubbed her head against Celestia's neck. "Please." "I–" A mighty yawn, not that Celestia could do anything less than mighty, escaped her. "–won't, but you have to tell it to Master Sottile when he's better. He only wants to help you, alright? Now, let's see what it says here." Her eyes slowly passed over the parchment. "What is this?" "Willowbark said it was a marsh mallow root concoction and that it was good for the tummy and to get one's strength back and also a bit for the throat. It's like medicine, but medicine I can't really make in the wrong way." Celestia stuck her tongue out. "Root concoction? Sounds awful. And it's medicine." She sighed. "No way to avoid it, I guess. Now, let's start… I'm not sure if it says bowls or spoons here, but I guess that's not so important, right?" The sun was setting in the east, the slight wobble which had affected it for the past week almost disappeared. Willowbark sighed. It was over, and as far as he knew there hadn't been any deaths in Everfree Haven. For now, at least. The winter would be hard, and their granaries would be in a pathetic state come the spring. His hoof touched the great doors in the walls surrounding the farm, and wards opened, unlocking them in more than one sense. He pushed and entered, the cart clattering behind him. The buildings were still standing, and there was no smoke coming out from the windows. It seemed his nightmares had not come to pass. With a tap of his hoof, he unhooked the harness of the cart. He rolled his shoulders, his joints cracking, his muscles loosening. He would need to apply a lot of ointments this night if he had any intention of facing the next day without ample amounts of his namesake. He pushed his cart under the canopy, grabbed his bags and trotted toward the main building. The rest of his belongings could wait until tomorrow. The door opened and the light of the sunset streamed into the kitchen and on the scene inside. Willowbark blinked. He had had a nightmare that had been surprisingly similar once. There was some green blob on the wall holding a thick stick on which a pot hung. He tapped the blob. It was solid, almost like glass. There were more all around the room, holding sticks working as hangers. In front of the table was a heap of the stuff, sculpted like a short flight of stairs leading to a small platform. "Little Chryssi said she needed it to keep things ready for her. Some of the shelves were too high for her, and the pantry was a bit too far away." Willowbark smiled and turned around. His mother was standing in the door, weary, visibly tired, but undoubtedly feeling better. It took him a couple of seconds to remember that he was supposed to be miffed that she was out and about. He quickly turned his expression to a well-practiced frown. "You should still be resting." All it got was a chuckle from Meadowsweet. "Yes, dear, in a while. I have been relegated to my bed for days now, and it will take more than a grumpy face from my son to stop me from stretching my legs a bit." "I am the apothecary here, and you can stretch your legs when you are completely healed." He stood a bit straighter and tried to radiate authority as his master did sometimes with difficult patients. Meadowsweet snickered, then plainly laughed out loud. "Hahaha. Oh dear, you'll have to do better than that. Remember, I potty-trained you, I’ve already seen that face." She was clearly well enough to regain both her stubbornness and her way with words. Willowbark deflated; he had been defeated and there was no hope of forcing the issue now. He would have to convince her and, depending on her mood, that could be the kind of battle that raged for weeks and still ended in a sound defeat for him. A deep sigh escaped him. "At least promise me you won't strain yourself too much. You may be walking, but I'm sure there will be some lingering effects." "I promise. I actually came to welcome you back and because…" She pulled a water-filled pot from another tree branch sticking out from a green glob. She put it on the stove, blew on the embers, and turned back to Willowbark. "How did it go with the farmers?" Was that apprehension he heard? "It went – It could have gone a bit better, but also much, much worse. Nopony died, but Fallow's family will miss the harvest. They were hit pretty hard, and are still recovering. The Moss family will help them, though." Meadowsweet closed her eyes. "Fallow's family… That's seven hard-working adults. I'll have to look at the ledger and see what we can lose." "We'll manage. Now, what–" Willowbark moved his hoof to encompass the kitchen "–happened here? I am quite sure that it wasn't like this when I left." "Oh, a sweet, caring, little filly happened." Meadowsweet smiled. "Chryssi discovered that she could make this weird goo that gets pretty solid once dried. Got inspired by making something for which you gave her the recipe. The first batch, which gave her the idea, is around somewhere." She looked around, then walked to a corner and grabbed the handle of a wooden spoon sticking out from a pot. She pulled it up, and the pot followed. With a clang it fell in front of Willowbark's hooves, the contents a single piece. He turned it around and looked inside to the black mass coating everything. "That's a quarter of my stash of Zebrican gum." He sighed. "Well, she was alone, I can't complain." "In the end, she managed to make it correctly. She was very proud, and also covered in the sticky, brown stuff." Meadowsweet tapped the green mass. "The poor dear was having difficulty caring for all of us, but even when we felt a bit better she prohibited us from getting up and helping. Do you know that she threatened to glue me to the bed?" Willowbark snorted. "I should have thought of that. Maybe I will keep her as an assistant." He knelt and sniffed at the glob holding the stick. "Don't you dare. Anyway, she kept us all fed and brought us enough to drink. She was very sweet." A jar was stuck in another green mass, at the side of the stove. Meadowsweet opened it and pulled out a hoofful of dried leaves. "It was all very tiring for her too. She's sleeping with Tia and Lulu now, which is why I can be here with you instead of under the blankets." The strange substance was partially transparent, becoming milky deeper in. The stick was stuck pretty firmly in it and didn't budge when Willowbark tried to wiggle it. "It's useless, it won't move. I have no idea what it is, but it's strong stuff. I couldn't remove it, and I was trying when Chryssi caught me in the kitchen yesterday. That's when she threatened me, by the way." She grabbed a mug and dropped the leaves inside. "I think we should wait for Fidelis to remove it. Or for Chryssi. She promised she would help clean up the mess." "Reminds me of some kind of resin." Willowbark stood up. "What about the others? Are they as restless as you?" Meadowsweet sat down at the table. "Hmm, Garvino and Ginvera will be tomorrow. Millet would be, but he's using the situation to get a bit more rest than usual, which isn't a bad idea considering what awaits us. The fillies and Radish are slower in recovering, but that's to be expected. Fidelis and Master Sottile are well enough but are taking the order to rest seriously. The only one still on the way to getting better is Donna Copper Horn. No idea why, but she seemed a bit out of it when I talked to her. Maybe it's her age." "I… That would be a first." Willowbark frowned. "She was in perfect health before the malady." "Sometimes it's little things. Or not so little things. Be a dear and pass me the water, please." "Will you rest after the infusion? And leave cleaning up to me and Chrysalis in the morning?" The sigh Meadowsweet let out told a complex story of stubbornness, boredom, rebellion, and resignation. "I shall do as the apothecary orders. Now bring that water, sit down, and tell me about the last couple of days."