Hot air wafted around the room, propelled by a small and ancient-looking oscillating fan. At the tables in the back, the same regulars had once again commenced a card game, slowly sipping their cider or juice as they passed around greasy, old cards. Mrs. Trotsworth was slowly polishing glasses, seeing no need to hurry but seeing plenty reason not to leave the bar. In the center of the room, an old stallion was asleep in his chair, leaning back and snoring softly.
Once again, Daring Do found herself sitting in the Get Out Inn- -except this time not at the bar, as was customary for her. Instead, she sat at a table in the back. The same one, in fact, where she had first met Dulcimer two months earlier. She had a glass of back courant juice set in front of her, but she was not drinking it. Rather, she was just tilting it, watching the inky fluid slowly swirl around the edge of the glass.
Sitting across from her where two ponies. One she knew. That one was Absence. She was stronger now than she had been when Rainbow Dash had freed her, but her condition had otherwise not improved. She was still sickly and pale, and though her eyes were her own they were empty and seemed to stare at a point far beyond the horizon. Her mane, which had once been white, now had streaks of silver running through it. She was thin, but well cared for. A ticking, gold-colored robotic limb had replaced the one that she had lost. It was partially covered by her clothing, but Daring Do still knew that it was there.
The other pony was one that she did not know. Her face was obscured by a hood that mostly covered her face, leaving only the lower part of her jaw visible. Her coat was teal, and she was smiling. Although she did not wear full armor, Daring Do saw the vestiges of the tradition. A distinct uniform that still held golden metal plates in various places, plates that were no doubt practical but more likely meant to represent the full armor that her distant ancestors had once wore.
On her shoulder, she wore the insignia of a thistle. Except that this one was not red. Instead, it was the proper shape and color: a green plant with a violet blossom over an argent background. Beneath it stood a crest, one that looked almost identical to Carillon or Dulcimer’s, save for the fact that it featured a lyre at its center.
None of them spoke. They simply sat in the lazy warmth of Southern Equestria. Daring Do wondered if they would actually have to speak. She did not want to- -but was aware that this conversation would be coming eventually.
“Do you have a name?” she finally asked.
“I do,” said the Questlord. Daring Do shivered. It was Carillon’s voice, although the pony it came out of was definitely not her. “But you don’t need to know it.”
“Fine. You already know mine.”
“Of course.”
Absence looked at Daring Do, and then looked away. She had been sent ahead, as a kind of vanguard. It was the kind of mission she had been trained for, but it had not been a matter of combat or infiltration. She had come to tell Daring Do of the coming meeting, and to prepare. In the time since, she had been living in the Get Out Inn- -but mostly staying in her room, silently waiting.
Whatever had happened to her, it had taken a deep toll on her.
“You know,” said the Questlord, “I do have to ask. How is Rainbow Dash doing these days? Iocane poisoning, it’s normally invariably…lethal.”
“She’s doing fine,” said Daring Do. She stopped swirling her juice. “She has friends in high places. She’s recovering.”
“Yes, yes,” said the Questlord, still smiling from beneath her hood. “I assumed as much. But there is something interesting about that, isn’t there?”
“Oh?”
“Twilight Sparkle was the one performing the spell. With Starlight Glimmer performing the majority of the real work, of course. You may not be aware, but Twilight Sparkle is rather prolific when it comes to publishing research articles. I’ve read all of them.”
“Of course you have.”
“And the newest one of them was quite interesting. A cure for iocane poisoning at long last.” She leaned forward. “Except, the funny thing is that the spell was oddly familiar. Parts of its construction used methods that I KNOW Sparkle would have no access too. OUR methods, in fact.”
“Is that so?” Daring Do finally sipped her juice. It was warm and tasted sour. “Well, I’m not exactly a wizard, am I? I don’t know how the spell works. I’m just glad it did.”
“So you don’t know anything about it? About, perhaps, a certain anonymous donor of a specific novel text- -”
Daring Do slammed her glass down, causing juice to fly out. The droplets were suddenly trapped in orange magic, and slowly returned to the glass. That answered one question, but only partly.
“Look,” she said. “If you want to ask me a question, ask it. You’re here, aren’t you? Or are you just that bored?”
The pony smiled. She looked up at Daring Do from under her hood. Daring Do saw the glint of orange irises, and for a moment was sure that this pony really was Carillon. She quickly dismissed the thought, though. Although they looked almost identical, she knew- -if only by instinct- -that this pony was vastly younger. Perhaps even younger than she was.
“Fine. Carillon Heartstrings is an extremely dangerous pony. She is brilliant but not stable. If we could find her, recover her- -”
“Imprison her, you mean.”
The smile faded from the Questlord’s face. “She is a threat to herself, to Equestria, and to our organization. Don’t forget that she is a criminal. If you know anything- -”
“Well, I don’t. So you’re out of luck there.” That was true. Carillon had vanished almost as soon as they had left her castle. Daring Do had no idea where she had gone, or what she was doing, although she had a feeling that it would not be nearly as dangerous as this Questlord expected. She had almost destroyed Equestria once, and, unlike some ponies that Daring Do had met in her long career, Carillon seemed like the kind of pony able to learn after a single mistake.
“I ask because it seems that we have a number of problems right now. The kind that I have to worry about cleaning up. Don’t forget, we don’t even exist.”
“But you’re wearing your crest and flag without a care in the world.”
“Because I know what I’m doing.”
“I can’t help you with Carillon.”
“Then maybe you can help me with her leader.”
“Dulcimer.”
“The lich. The product of an extremely evil spell. One that was outlawed long before he was even born.”
“And?”
“And? We never recovered his phylactery.”
“Do I need to submit a report or something? Absence was there. She saw. The vandrare destroyed it.”
Absence looked at Daring Do, gave a weak smile, and then turned away.
“The ponies present do not corroborate that. We need it.”
“For what?” snapped Daring Do. “To destroy it? Or maybe you forgot how to make them and want to remember how.”
The unicorn stared at her. “Maybe both.”
“I can’t let you have it.”
“Daring Do. You need to understand. A phylactery is not a petty little thing. It is evil, and dangerous. It isn’t a trophy you can keep on your mantle.”
She was bluffing. That was, in fact, exactly where Daring Do had placed it- -or more specifically, on A.K. Yearling’s mantle, over her fireplace. It was alive- -in the sense that a crystal containing an artificial soul could be- -but still weak. It might recover in time, but Daring Do was sure that it would not be safe for it to belong to anypony but her until the end. Dulcimer had not been evil, at least not in her mind. He did not deserve the fate that the mainstream Questlords were planning for him.
“I can’t help you.”
The unicorn just shrugged. For a moment, Daring Do could not tell if she was acting or if she did not actually care in the slightest.
“You certainly do like causing problems. No wonder he liked you.”
“From where I’m sitting, it looks like I saved Equestria.”
“Only after helping to nearly destroy it. Now we have a fugitive, a missing phylactery…and a unicorn in Singapone who just showed up at charity gala wearing a fully operational technetium dial on her shoulder.”
“A deal is a deal.”
“Even if it makes a situation that we need to mediate.” The unicorn sighed. “You’re not being very helpful at all.”
“Neither are you.” Daring Do leaned back. “You’re asking all these questions, but not answering mine.”
“Our operations are classified.”
“Says the pony wearing the Ancient Sign right on her shirt.”
The Questlord laughed softly. “Touché. Fine. If it will help, go ahead. Ask. I’ll answer what I can.”
“The clones,” she said.
“They aren’t clones. They are synthetic ponies.”
“I don’t care what you call them. What happens to them?”
The unicorn looked up at her, their eyes meeting. “We are integrating them into the mainstream Questlords. They will be distributed throughout Equestria. They will be able to live close to normal lives.”
“As your soldiers,” growled Daring Do. “You’re not going to set them free, are you?”
“That is not possible.”
“They aren’t property! They’re ponies!”
“Ponies with metal bones and cybernetic implants. Pegasi who bleed silver blood like unicorns. Tell me, Daring Do. If we just sent them out into the world, how long would it be until one goes to a hospital? A doctor? A pony who realizes that something is very, very different about them?” She sighed. “Then it’s another mess we need to clean up.”
Daring Do was about to stand up and quite possibly throw her juice into the pony’s face, intending to produce a substantial stain. Absence, though, stopped her.
“It is true,” she said. “Daring Do, please understand. Many of them do not have the capacity to exist on their own, not without help and time to adjust. And all of us are still loyal to the Questlords, even if our Order is no more.”
“But you should have the choice.”
“As she said. We will live close to normal lives, under their guidance.”
“And,” added the Questlord, “their children, or perhaps grandchildren, will be close enough to normal ponies to be able to fully integrate into normal society. It will just take time. They are patient, and you need to be too.”
“What choice do I have?” asked Daring Do, throwing up her hooves. Trotsworth, who had been staring at her, went back to polishing.
“None, really,” said the Questlord. “But don’t misunderstand me. We are truly grateful. You did, after all, save us all. All of Equestria owes you a debt.”
Daring Do sighed. “I don’t do it for their thanks or payment,” she said.
“Nevertheless, we are willing to pay you.”
“Then you don’t know me very well, do you? I have more money than I could spend even if I had a unicorn’s lifespan. I don’t want your money.”
“We did not intend to offer you any. We have something else you might like more.”
Daring Do stared at her. She could not contain her curiosity. “What?”
The Questlord smiled. She was clearly planning something and bad at hiding it. “I have been authorized to use an age-spell, should conditions permit. We are willing to give you back twenty, even thirty years of youth.”
“A spell?”
The Questlord nodded. “It doesn’t have side effects. It’s not unlike the one that Carillon uses to prolong her life. You would get another thirty years. If you want it.” She paused. “And if you are willing to help us.”
“For Carillon? Or for the phylactery?” Daring Do knew nothing about Carillon, but she did feel a temptation to offer the phylactery in exchange for more time. She never would have, of course, but she still felt the temptation.
“Neither. Neither are expressly critical, at least not at this moment. Maybe not even in your lifetime. What is critical is that we manage Carillon’s daughters.” The way she said the last word had unusual emphasis, as if the word tasted bad to her. “As of right now, we have acquired all save for two. One is apparently working with Caballeron, and we cannot seem to find him.”
“Have you tried Andalusia?”
“Yes. And his hideout there is abandoned.”
“Then maybe on a tropical island. Probably with a naked changeling in his lap.” She sighed. That image made her feel strange. She wondered if she could be happy for Caballeron. She hoped she still could. “He’ll be back. The thing is, he’s not going to be very friendly. He never really is, but after what you did to him.”
“We did nothing. He was dealing with a rogue faction. One that you took down. Which is another reason for us to be indebted to you. You did in a couple weeks what we couldn’t do in two thousand years.”
“It’s not like it’s easy.”
“No. No, I’m sure it wasn’t. But here’s my point. The other Pegasus, the one we’re still looking for. She wasn’t allied with Caballeron. She was allied with YOU.”
Absence stared at Daring Do, or perhaps past her. “She means White.”
“No,” said Daring Do.
Absence seemed confused. “She does, that is who- -”
“Not that. I mean I don’t know anything about White. Just like Carillon. For all I know, the two are together. She is her mother after all.”
“No,” said Absence, distantly. “No she is not.”
“And I think that’s a lie anyway,” said the Questlord. “I think you still have her. I don’t know where. You’re treating her as a ward, or maybe as a butler, but you’re hiding her from us. But maybe that’s just a theory. Maybe you’re just securing her until we can put her in a proper situation.” The smile fell form the Questlord’s face. “Realizing, of course, as smart as you are, that your extra thirty years hinges on you giving us what we want.”
Daring Do leaned forward. She looked directly into the Questlord’s eyes. “I don’t know anything.”
The Questlord glared at her, and then suddenly smiled. The smile looked almost relieved. At first Daring Do thought that it had been a bluff from the start, but then the Questlord reached beneath her cloak and removed a small box. She put it on the table and pushed it to the center of the table.
“I’m glad,” she said. “Here. This is a gift. Not from the Questlords. From me, personally.”
Daring Do looked at the box, and then at the Questlord. Her suspicion was apparently quite apparent, and the Questlord laughed.
“Go on,” she said. “ Open it. It’s not like it’s going to hurt you. I wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Daring Do. Nevertheless, she opened the box.
What it contained was at first quite morbid, at least until Daring Do realized what it contained. Inside were a pair of items that she had at first taken for disembodied eyeballs. Only after a moment of staring at them- -and of them staring back- -did she realize that although they were eyes, they were not organic. Instead, they were artificial- -but far more advanced than the ones that White had used before, or the one she currently had. They looked exactly like a pair of red pony eyes, with the irises made of some kind of perfectly cut garnet. For a moment, Daring Do was reminded of Dulcimer’s eyes and how confining they had looked.
“Why are you giving me this?” she asked.
“It’s not for you, really.” The unicorn sighed. “Because the pony they’re for is a friend to a pony who is very special to me. That pony gave her a gift of great significance to her, one that means more than I think either of them even realize. So I’m giving this gift to her. Not as a Questlord, but as me. As a friend.”
Daring Do looked at Absence, who nodded. Then she closed the box and took it. Her impression of the Questlord had softened greatly.
“Look,” said the unicorn, “I understand you’re apprehensive. I get it. Honestly I am too. We almost messed up. And we’re doing our best, but it’s not going to be perfect. Sometimes I wish we could be like them, you know? Able to move freely. To not have to hide in the shadows, pulling puppet strings and hoping everything goes the way we want it to.”
“You will. Some day.”
“When the stars are open to us, maybe.” The Questlord sighed. “I guess I wish I could be like you. But I can’t. I have to do what I have to do.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t. Because it’s never been like that for you. You’re free. I’m not. Not completely. But I’m okay with that.” Her eyes met Daring Do’s. “So if the Questlords won’t thank you, let me do it. Not just for Equestria, but for me. For ending my family’s curse. I don’t hear it calling anymore. It’s finally all over.”
Daring Do was not sure she understood, but she understood enough. “Your welcome,” she said. She sighed herself. “I don’t get thanked very often.”
“You should, for all you do.”
“Maybe someday.”
“Perhaps.”
The two of them paused for a moment, and then Daring Do asked the final question on her mind. “What about you, Absence?”
Absence’s eyes suddenly flicked to her. Daring Do shivered. She was not staring absently, but was quite fully alert. She was staring AT something, something no other pony could see.
“What about me?”
“She will come with me,” said the Questlord. “We intend to study her in great detail.”
Daring Do’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You’re trying to rebuild it.”
“There is nothing to rebuild. The Hand of Doom was destroyed.”
“Daring Do,” said Absence. “It is okay. I…something inside me.” She paused. “Something is broken. It left things here. In me.”
“Which is why I suddenly don’t trust them a lot less than I already did.”
“She needs help,” said the unicorn.
“I do,” said Absence. “I need help from somepony who understands how to fix me. And to…to make sure it never comes back.
Daring Do stared at her. “Is this really what you want?”
“My choice is my choice. No pony will make it for me.” She paused. “When you see Rainbow Dash, tell her thank you, from me. And that I will see her again. As soon as I can.”
Daring Do nodded, and slowly turned her head toward the unicorn. “Take care of her. You know what will happen if you don’t.”
“Of course. I actually know Rainbow Dash personally, and I would rather run afoul of the knighthood than her. You have nothing to worry about.”
Absence stood up. She moved shakily, and did not seem to have fully learned how to balance on her robotic limb. “I am ready to go. And you are clearly nearly done here. Just let me go retrieve my things from my room.”
“Of course,” said the Questlord. “Take your time. I will have the teleportation sequence prepared for when you get back.”
Absence nodded, and left them.
The door shut behind her. The mechanism inside it clicked, and Absence did not bother to check it. It no longer mattered.
The room was small but pleasant, and she understood why Daring Do liked the place. The floor was wood and smooth, worn from years of use but not splintery. The walls were clean and painted a pleasant, cool blue, and the ceiling rose up at an angle. There was a bed- -the first bed she had ever slept in- -and a small dresser. A dresser meant to contain clothing.
Except that she was wearing all the clothing she had brought. The dressers were empty. Absence had no possessions, as she had no reason nor opportunity to acquire them. No possessions, that is, apart from a black attaché case that sat next to her bed.
She picked it up. It was large and heavy, but even though Absence had grown thin, the lines of metal that still persisted inside her muscles made her far stronger than she looked. She hefted the case easily and with great care, moving it over to the small oak desk that stood beneath an open window.
She already knew what was in the case. She had known for three days, almost since she had arrived. The case had been there, waiting for her, and there had been a small note attached to it. The note was bound to the handle by red thread, and contained a simple sentence scrawled in perfect Crystallic in scarlet ink:
“The deliver is made, as was requested. With thanks. From both of us.”
Absence laid the case flat and opened it. She examined the contents- -not for the first time- - and immediately went to work. She knew exactly what to do, because she knew what needed to be done and understood how to do it.
The first thing she did was eject the leg that the Questlords had given her. She appreciated the gesture but knew that it was of no use to her, and perhaps a detriment. Nothing they gave could be trusted, unless it was a gift from a knight directly. Otherwise, the gift in question was simply a generic tool, a means toward an end.
Absence set to work replacing it. She removed the new arm from the case, where it had been surrounded by foam. It was thicker and heavier, made from a darker metal and plated with armor. She integrated it into the place where the other leg had been, and winced as she felt it linking to her body. That was painful, and it would always be.
A pony with a whole nervous system might have passed out. Or not; Absence had no frame of reference. What she knew was that the pain passed quickly, and she flexed the new limb, feeling the heavy clockwork within ticking away.
The limb had been intended for a taller pony, but it quickly reset its size for Absence’s height. It felt better than the other one, more natural. Perhaps because it had once belonged to another pony and served her well.
The box contained three items. Absence removed the second. It was much smaller than the arm, and fit easily onto her hoof. It was a perfect circle, and about two centimeters thick. Inside it were a number of gears made of much finer clockwork than was in her new limb; gears that were made of a rare white metal, and that surrounded a single deep-blue star sapphire.
The dial was limited. Flock had been forced to build it quickly. While the others had been preparing for their siege of the Questlord castle and the final confrontation with the Hand of Doom, this was what Flock had been building. It consisted of mostly of salvaged parts from the damaged, nonfunctional dials that he had collected from various owners throughout history. The rest was a combination of pieces taken from the dying Exmoori equipment and the things that the Questlords had left behind in their haste.
Absence stared at the dial, and understood. With so few gears, there was not much it could do, but it could do enough. She gently turned the clockwork within it, setting the positions with respect to the white cross in the center of the stone. When she was done, the dial began to tick, counting down. She then lifted it and inserted it into a slot in the shoulder of her mechanical right limb. The clasps around the slot closed, and the dial integrated with the robotic systems beneath.
A few seconds passed before Absence turned her attention to the final item in the case. It was one that she was hesitant to touch, but she did so nonetheless, picking it up with the greatest possible care. This particular object was larger than the dial, and spherical. It hummed weakly with magic, but only a very simple spell. Nothing within it was especially dangerous. The spell was simply for protection- -and warmth.
The spear opened in the middle. Absence gently found the seam with her hoof and pulled apart the two halves of the top. Inside was a soft matrix of foam-like material integrated into a number of simple heaters and sensors- -and imbedded in the exact center, in a hole that had been precisely cut for it, was a single mottled crow’s egg.
Absence stared at the egg for a long moment, and then looked up and out the window. Outside, there was desert; the city of Somnabula should have been visible in the distance, with a beautiful oasis nearby. Absence saw none of those things, though. Although it was day, she saw no sun. Only fog, a strange mist obscured the things behind it.
Or nearly did. The shape was there, just behind it. She saw it out there, watching her as she watched it: a looming black obelisk, a thing that stood distant, waiting- -but growing closer every day. She could see its shadow, the shape it cast on the mist- -and as she looked closer, she could see the glint of silver writing slowly forming over its surface. Words that must never be read, that must never be comprehended- -and yet that Absence was so close to being able to understand.
Before the dial could close and activate the teleportation bridge to the far side, to the other phase of reality with the castle that she would soon inhabit, Absence spoke. She did not once take her eyes off the Monolith, for fear that it would grow closer if she looked away.
“Please, master,” she said. “Please hurry.”