//------------------------------// // Chapter 13: The Dead Mare // Story: To Serve In Hell // by CoffeeMinion //------------------------------// Rarity kept a furtive watch on the streets through holes in the tarp covering the cart-bed. At least, she did so when she could spare attention away from Bon Bon, whose fluttering eyes and labored breathing made Rarity wonder if the poor mare would survive to their destination. More than once, Rarity had to jostle her back awake, or even go to the distasteful extent of using a small spark of magic to focus Bon Bon’s attention on a new, sharp, but ultimately superficial source of pain. Her heart leapt as the cart turned onto a street she recognized. “It won’t be long now, dear. You’ve been so strong; please hold out for just another few moments.” Bon Bon only nodded. Rarity looked back out through the hole, and watched as cart passed through a familiar set of tall wooden gates and into a compound surrounded by high stone walls. The cart stopped a few moments later, and she threw the tarp aside. A trio of solid-looking stallions drew back in surprise amidst their approach to the cart. “Lady Rarity?!” they exclaimed. “Gentlecolts,” Rarity said, trying to put on an affectation of grace despite her circumstances. She addressed each stallion in turn: “Would you be so good as to run over and close the gates right away? Then would you please summon Lord Rich’s doctors? And would you let him know I’m here? Quickly; this mare is wounded!” The three cast wide-eyed looks at Rarity, Bon Bon, and finally each other, before they galloped off to their assigned tasks. Rarity looked down at Bon Bon, and cursed herself for letting the mare lose consciousness. “Come on, darling.” She shook Bon Bon slowly, then faster, as the fear of losing her reasserted itself. But after a moment she pressed an ear to Bon Bon’s barrel, and tears of something just short of happiness sprang to her eyes at the sound of the mare’s ragged breathing. There was a commotion from nearby, and Rarity soon found herself squinting against a harsh intrusion of torches into the moonlight. A dozen or so ponies came galloping toward her from the nearby “manor house,” which was in truth a long, oversized, multi-level warehouse of red brick, some of which had been converted to living space. At the center of the group of ponies was a brown-coated stallion with concerned-looking blue eyes whom she knew very well indeed. “Lord Filthy Rich,” Rarity said, rising unsteadily. “I must apologize for coming to you in this singularly wretched state, but as you can see…” She gestured to Bon Bon. Filthy’s eyes went wide. He froze that way for a few heartbeats, mouth hanging half-open, as ponies rushed around him to either help secure the gates or to start examining Bon Bon. “You there,” shouted one of the ponies looking into the cart. “Run immediately and start setting up the surgery! Time is of the essence! You others, fetch a litter! Quickly now!” Rarity turned back to Bon Bon and gingerly touched the mare’s less-burned forehoof. “You did it, darling. There’s nothing to fear anymore. Lord Rich’s doctors and ponies of herbcraft are truly the finest that money can buy.” Bon Bon’s eyes flicked open for an instant, but she said nothing. Filthy continued to stare at Bon Bon with a peculiar expression. Despite the lack of privacy borne of ponies busying themselves all around, curiosity got the best of Rarity: “Filthy dear, do you know Ms. Bon Bon?” “I… no,” he said, blinking. “I’m sorry, this is just…” He shook himself. “It’s Rich, please, dear. No, this is all just quite a lot to take in. Both your sudden arrival, and…” He gestured toward Bon Bon. “I understand, and I hate to impose.” She raised a hoof toward him, and he offered one of his own to help her step down from the cart. “No, no, it’s no trouble, I assure you. Here, let’s—” They stepped aside as two ponies galloped back with a litter and moved it into place by the cart. Those ponies then climbed up beside Bon Bon and began to work their hooves underneath her. Bon Bon made a series of pained but indistinct vocalizations as the attending stallions loaded her onto the litter and set off carrying her into the house. A strong pair of forelegs pulled Rarity close, and she let herself nuzzle into the warmth of Filthy’s barrel. “My goodness,” he said, pulling away just slightly. “Dear, is this blood on your cloak?” Rarity’s cheeks flushed, and she half-gasped, half-laughed in response. “W… why yes, it must have come from… poor Bon Bon.” She threw the cloak off with her magic. A moment later, Rarity felt Filthy pull her back into his embrace. The warmth and pressure of his coat on her face was heavenly. “I’m so dreadfully sorry about showing up unannounced, unpresentable, and bringing untold trouble to your doorstep,” she said into his shoulder. “My home is yours, anytime. Besides… apart from the blood, this isn’t the most disheveled that I’ve seen you.” She gave him a strained smile. “You’re too sweet. But I fear we should discuss what brought me.” He turned and looked toward the tall brick wall on the edges of his “estate.” “Would you care to walk and talk? It’s a lovely evening.” “It feels as though I’ve walked through half the Lower City already tonight, but I suppose at least the company is better this time.” Before they could set off, though, they heard the great front door to Lord Rich’s estate creak open again. They turned to see a pale pink filly standing there. Her eyes were pointed vaguely in their direction, but through their dry and bloodshot aspect they seemed haunted, unfocused... Rarity might say “empty,” if she were feeling anything less than charitable. Though a quick glance at the mass of scar tissue and sunken metal atop the filly’s head reminded her that charity was the least she could offer to somepony who had lost so much. Filthy glanced at Rarity before turning a smile on the filly. “Now Diamond, dear, what have we discussed about going out of the house without supervision?” Diamond Tiara’s eyes snapped in the direction of Filthy, and their unblinking gaze remained a fixed thousand-yard stare. “A dead mare came into the house,” she said, her tone completely flat. Filthy and Rarity exchanged glances, and Filthy chuckled as he took a step toward Diamond. “Now, dear, that poor mare isn’t dead, and hopefully the doctors can help keep her that way. Though she has been injured dreadfully, which Lady Rarity and I were just going to discuss…” Diamond’s eyes snapped in Rarity’s direction. The stare made the hair on the back of her neck stiffen, and a chill ran through her body. “You’ve seen her, too.” Filthy gave Rarity an expression that told her she didn’t have to answer. But Rarity did anyway: “No, dear; as your father said, she isn’t dead.” Diamond cocked her head to the side. The motion was cold, mechanical, and looked painful, but Diamond’s expression remained vacant. “I was wrong. You haven’t seen her yet. But you will.” From behind Diamond stepped a flustered-looking pale yellow stallion whose greying mane was cropped short and easily outdone by his long, bushy moustache. “Sincere apologies, Lord Rich!” He smiled. “It’s all right, Kibitz; she bolts on everypony from time to time.” Kibitz bowed, then shooed Diamond back into the house and closed the door behind them. Rarity swallowed, then looked at Filthy. “I’m sorry she hasn’t improved.” He sighed. “Kibitz has been wonderful at finding ponies to work with her, but progress is slow. Truthfully… I’m just glad I have her back, no matter what her recovery might look like.” Rarity took a deep breath. “I suppose we’re fortunate anytime a pony is sent back from Tartarus,” she said. The recollection of Zecora being hurled in, and of Scootaloo being returned, played through her mind again. For a moment, she let herself pause and wonder how Dash was getting along with the filly. Filthy gave her a sad smile, but said nothing, merely gesturing back toward the wall. They fell in next to each other silently. Rarity’s gut roiled with desire to talk about the circumstances that led her to his doorstep, but she held her tongue for the sake of respecting Filthy’s struggles with Diamond Tiara, whose namesake had—quite horrifically—become one with her during her time in Tartarus. For several minutes they simply walked next to each other down the gravel path along the perimeter. As they passed a spot where guards were visible on the wall above, Filthy took another deep breath. “That mare. Where did you find her?” Rarity looked at him with hesitation. Opening up with the truth would remove a dreadful weight from her chest, but Filthy had long since leaned toward the Resistance, whereas Rarity had only met Bon Bon while acting on behalf of Sassy. “I fear… I may have stumbled into something far more dangerous and uncertain than even what we usually face.” “Good heavens,” he said, chuckling. “Just how bad is it, then?” Rarity sighed, resigning herself to the realm of half-truths. “The Overseer is here in Canterlot with me. She had asked me to… bring her some sweets. A demeaning errand, to be sure; but sometimes it’s best to humor the irascible old thing and let her feel that she’s in charge. Unfortunately, it seems some misadventure befell poor Bon Bon and her shop before I arrived. But once there… well. I hate the sight of ponies dying right before me.” Filthy nodded and raised a hoof toward her mane. “So then your visit to Canterlot is strictly business, not pleasure?” Despite her apprehension, Rarity giggled a little. “I hate to disappoint you, darling.” “No, it’s quite alright. Though I imagine there may yet be some entertainment to be had from the nobility; with yourself and Lady Saddles in town, they’ll be positively over the moon from the potential intrigue.” “I promise that I would’ve let you know about our coming if there’d been time.” Rarity turned to glance back toward the house— Her breath caught. For there, in one of the windows on the upper floor, was a sight that chilled her blood and raised her hackles once again: dead eyes, standing out cold and white, against a shadowy but lifeless pink face, all framed by a dark, limpid mane. But the worst thing was the smile. It was that of a pony, and yet not; for Rarity had never seen a smile so wide in all her days, and she hoped very much that she should never see one so broad, and toothy, and preternaturally terrifying, ever again. “M… my Lord Rich…” Rarity stammered, raising a shaky hoof to point at it. He whipped around, following her gaze, and temporarily stepped in front of her, blocking her view. Rarity could hardly move, and indeed could hardly breathe. Something about those eyes had bored straight through her soul, and the feeling of coldness that permeated her would not leave. When Filthy bobbed back out of the way, Rarity saw that the figure was gone. The window seemed empty as a tomb. Filthy clutched her shoulders. “Rarity. Rarity, are you alright? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!” The mere memory of the eyes made Rarity’s blood run cold again. “I… it… it looked like… a mare. But like no mare I’ve ever seen…” Filthy looked back at the house. “One of my servants, perhaps?” “No,” Rarity said, quite emphatically. “No, I can’t imagine you would have a mare like that in your employ.” “Please, my dear… you must’ve been through an incredible shock, given what you’ve seen just now with the mare you brought to us. Why don’t we come back to the house, and—” Rarity shook her head. “N… no, I don’t think I could go back into your house now. I’m sorry, I… I just…” “May I hold you?” She shivered, but nodded, and he wrapped his forelegs around her. She sighed as she let his warmth unwind the knot of tension in her whole body. “Oh, Filthy,” she sobbed a moment later. “Perhaps you’re right, and I was just imagining things. I… I just need… oh, I don’t know what I need right now!” “Rich, dear. And it’s all right. I can’t imagine the pressure you must be under, working directly under the Mistress’ gaze at all times.” Rarity shook her head. Tears continued welling in her eyes. “No, you don’t understand.” She paused, took a deep breath, and pushed herself out of the hug. She stared into his warm, kind eyes, and studied the wrinkles at the corners of them. “You’ve always been so good to me, in spite of our… differences.” “You mean, our different loyalties?” She raised a hoof to his chin, tracing along his jawline. “The Overseer and I were sent to look for connections to the ponies who supply illegal foodstuffs.” His jaw tensed. “Yes, I’ve long been under the impression that the Overseer suspects me and my connections.” “I still don’t think the Mistress cares about smaller-scale operations. But I have to ask… have you, by chance, heard of anypony doing something grander? Something that could supply considerably more food, and much faster than anything seen before?” “My dear, in most matters, I’m glad to help you in any way that I can. But it can be difficult to be fully open with you sometimes, considering your… employer. Do you have specific questions?” “I suppose I’ve come into some details of a particularly large, new operation. Something that would require rather specialized skills to construct and maintain. I’m not even sure where it is, or if it has been built yet, or—” Filthy stepped away from her. “I’ve always known you might come to me someday with questions like these. I suppose there are a few things that I would’ve been willing to share. But this sounds bigger. ‘Grander,’ as you might say. I fear it might lead you to ask me questions with answers that’d jeopardize ponies I know.” He glanced back at her. “That is, assuming I know anything.” A fresh jolt of trepidation nipped at Rarity’s confidence. She feared pushing him too far, too quickly. “Of course, anything you say would be purely hypothetical. I assure you that my interest is not in leading ponies to death or incarceration. I…” She wracked her brains for any way make her position more persuasive, but found only visions of the ghoulish mare around each corner inside her mind. The cloaked stallion had mentioned being haunted by such visions… She shivered. “Filthy, surely you see that I wouldn't have come to you like this if I’d had a choice. Because you are right, there’s little I could say that would persuade you that I wasn’t part of some new crackdown. All I have to point at is the history we've shared, and what you know of me now, and whatever you might remember of the mare I was before the Longest Night fell.” “It’s Rich, dear. But yes, I do remember that mare.” Filthy’s smile brought deep creases around his twinkling eyes. “Very pretty. Very young. Definitely not the sort of mare a married stallion ought to go near. But smart as a whip, and determined to be the best Deputy Mayor Ponyville ever had.” Heat rose in Rarity’s cheeks as she returned the smile and batted her eyelashes at him. “Come now; flattery will get you everywhere.” Filthy breathed a long, heavy sigh, as her hoof traced down the center of his chest. He gave another chuckle. “Oh, very well; I suppose that I can do some looking, though it may take time.” Rarity glanced back at the house. “That’s quite all right. I’ve seen some things just now that leave me needing to take time and think anyway.” “Well then, should I have one of the guest rooms done up for you? It’s no trouble. Then even if you’re not… in the mood to spend time now, at least we can be close?” Rarity squeezed her eyes shut, seeking the void; but she found only recollections of that sepulchral vision in the darkness of her mind’s eye. “N… no,” she stammered. “I… I fear I must be getting on to the hotel. Sassy will be disappointed enough as it is to hear about her candy-making friend, and I’ve already had a hoofful of unexpected stops this evening. If I tarry much longer, she is liable to send ponies out looking for me, and the last thing I want is for your privacy to be invaded more than it already has been.” Filthy kept his jaw firm as he gave her a curt nod. “Of course, dear. Don’t worry, I’ll ensure the mare you brought us receives the best care possible. And if you truly wish to be on your way, I’ll have Kibitz bring my finest coach around so you don’t have to travel so humbly twice in one night.” “Though I appreciate the offer… is it safe to assume that you have more discreet transportation available? Perhaps to make it look as though nopony is being transported at all?” His brow knit, but he nodded slowly. “Of course, but why go to such lengths? Are you in some kind of danger?” “There are times when a lady must ask to be indulged,” she said, trying to keep her tone breezy. Filthy’s frown stayed fixed, but he turned and led them both back around the side of the house. “All right, dear, I know better than to push you. But do call again when you feel more up to talking.” “I will,” Rarity said, giving him a wan smile. “I promise, darling.” They parted company under the eaves of the cart park. Filthy spoke a few words to the workers as he went, leaving Rarity to watch a team of stallions begin readying a pair of low-slung carts that looked as if they could barely hold a single pony in their beds. Rarity startled at the sound of a throat clearing next to her. She turned and saw that the yellow-coated, mustachioed retainer—Kibitz—who had been shepherding Diamond Tiara earlier had evidently gotten a break from his charge. “Milady,” he said with a nod. “Good evening?” He worked his jaw soundlessly for a moment, causing his large moustache to bob up and down in the air. “Madam, at risk of imposing… these carts are meant to conceal a pony under them. They have their uses, of course, but they’re far from comfortable.” “I’m sure they are,” Rarity said, her voice catching just slightly. “But I believe their uses to be rather in line with my needs at the moment.” He harrumphed quietly, then turned and regarded the laborers. “I can understand your discretion in bringing that mare to us, of course. But I assure you, Lord Rich has taken pains to make his home a refuge from many kinds of danger.” “I would simply feel better if I keep moving,” Rarity said, still trying not to shiver at the recollection of the mare in the window. “And I would prefer to do so unobserved.” His face slid into a deep frown, though not seemingly one of anger; Rarity took the impression that it might instead be disappointment. “Very well, madam. Then before you go, I wanted to thank you personally for saving that mare’s life. Not many ponies would go out of their way to help somepony in such dire need these days.” Rarity inclined her head. “I suppose we must do what we can for the ponies around us, even when—” she trembled as Zecora’s dying words pushed their way to the forefront of her mind “—the path of good is difficult to see?” He nodded, and faint smile-lines stood out on his face.