//------------------------------// // Twixt Twists And 'Tween Tongue-Twisters // Story: Team Quantum // by Impossible Numbers //------------------------------// Twilight sipped her tea, but only after surreptitiously levitating the hairs off the surface. The cosiness of the orange and brown room, the predominance of fur, and the warm tones of Mister Pyre were leaving her cold. “And, of course,” said Mister Pyre, helping himself to cookies from the stuffed wallaby, “before I became Curator of the Museum, I was a Mage of the, aha, ‘Life Force’ School of Thought. Can you imagine?” Twilight’s cheeks filled with the effort of not retching. She’d refused cookies; something about the accusing way the cookie jar stared at her put her off. “‘Life Force’ Mage. Everyone seems to think a crystal pony has no future but as a Mage of some kind. There’s too much clinging onto the past, if you ask me. Anyway.” He threw the cookie into his mouth, and the chocolate chips sparkled as he chewed. A gulp. A smile. “‘Life Force’ is such a primitive concept. Of course, I was a different stallion when I came out of university. Ah, but then I saw the darkness…” Yet the smile was so wide that Twilight frowned and said, “Um, I think you said that incorrectly. I believe the usual saying is ‘I saw the light’?” “Not the light, no. The darkness, in the universe.” This was not a phrase to which crinkly-eyed smiling could be applied, and yet Pyre was doing a splendid job. “Um…” Twilight glanced hopefully at Ember, but the dragon was no help: slouching against the far wall and too busy looking utterly bored. “For instance,” continued Pyre, as Twilight politely put her mug of tea down on the wolverine, “look at your profile.” Stiff with self-consciousness, Twilight’s wide gaze darted from stuffed animal to stuffed animal. “No no no, don’t worry.” Pyre laughed. “I told you this was an old collection. We don’t do taxidermy anymore, but we do try and put the old exhibits to good use. Only these ones were on the way out, so I thought I’d try a bit of creative furniture. They’ll be out within a week, I expect.” All the same, Twilight sat so her limbs were drawn as close to her as possible. She had a childish desire to become thin enough to disappear. His badger creaking, Pyre leaned forwards and squinted. “Yes. The manestyle is very reminiscent… It is natural, isn’t it?” “Uh, yes. Yes, it is.” “Ah, the traditional Twilightian profile. Colour scheme more reminiscent of the Night family… Oh my, yes. Inheritance is an odd thing, isn’t it?” Twilight’s jaw tightened. “Mister Pyre, I’m not here for an examination. I apologise for seeming curt, but the reason I’m here is because of your applicant, Miss Fluttershy.” “Ah, yes. Fluttershy is another good example. Mixture of parental features, and yet possessing a beauty all of her own. Oh my, yes. Her father was Butterfly, her mother was Shutterfly, and I’m given to understand her paternal grandmother was also a Fluttershy. Full name was Flutterby Fluttershy. Rather endearing, I think. Yes, marvellous how the pedigree runs in the family. The same wispy mane designs and timid disposition. Unusual traits for a pegasus, but some breeds do retain the equine skittishness more than the avian boldness.” This is going too far. “Mister Pyre!” “Yes? What? Sorry. I do ramble sometimes.” OK. Don’t get distracted. Now I’ve got his undivided attention. Here goes… Here goes… “I’m not entirely certain – that is to say, I have nothing against the applicant – er, I mean, Fluttershy – Miss Fluttershy – I’m sure she’s a fine worker and, and, um, I mean no disrespect nor intend any –” “Splendid! Glad to hear she’s turning out so well!” Pyre bulldozed through the conversation and clapped his hooves together. “Ember, do be a dear and gather up the tea things. Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Twilight; I thought you’d finished your tea.” “I had,” said Twilight sternly. She’d known some ponies could be scatterbrained with age, but Mister Pyre seemed capable of scattering his brains to the four winds. Ember swept her claws over the wolverine. After the clatter of tea things and a whoosh, the white door swung shut and there was no sign that the tea had ever been. “You’ve got a prize in that young Fluttershy, my dear Miss Twilight.” Pyre raised his hoof to add in a whisper, as though sharing secrets with his favourite niece, “Fluttershy has a gift.” “I see.” “Nope. You listen. She can communicate with animals on a whole other level. Yes, you may give me that look; I didn’t believe it either, but one day we were having problems with the local starlings outside our windows. Making such a ruckus they were, and disturbing our work. Oh, you should have seen the girl! Strode outside like she was going to comfort a lost child, then she cocked an ear – like this – and clicked her tongue – like this, TOK – and every bird in the plaza went silent. We heard the traffic in the distance. Then as one, the flock flew up into the sky. After a few more squawks, she had them dancing over the rooftops.” “A few more squawks?” “From Fluttershy. It was uncanny. To hear her, you’d think she’d been raised by starlings. Then, once she’d sent them on their way, she went back inside and carried on cataloguing her fossil rabbit collection like it was nothing. No, I thought that day, I thought, a mare like that should not be stuck in a museum. Sad to see her go, of course – never made many friends, the poor thing – but I predict she’ll have a much brighter future among your exciting team.” Never made many friends, the poor thing. Never made many friends. Twilight swallowed and didn’t hear the next question. “Sorry?” she said. “I was miles away.” “Don’t worry. In my old age, I get like that too.” Pyre shuffled on his… yes, seat, it was best to think of it as his seat and to ignore the eyes staring out of it – and gave her a creased, worried look. “She is getting on well, isn’t she?” Sometimes, Twilight reflected with a sinking heart, I have a very nasty mind. “I’m, uh, sorry to hear that, Mister Pyre. I do, as it happens, have one or two concerns… about… Miss… Fluttershy.” No obvious reaction. “Concerns?” “Nothing personal, I assure you,” Twilight lied. “Only, I’m not entirely convinced she’s the pony we’re looking for.” “Oh dear.” Surprisingly, Pyre didn’t seem put out. If anything, his muscles drooped under the relief. “Well, it was only to be expected. You are a Twilightian, naturally.” “I don’t see how that’s relevant to –” “Twilightians always check and double-check. In extreme cases, they have been known to triple-check. Discreetly, though, to their credit. Truth be told, I’m honoured, not offended. Of course, you’ve seen her qualifications?” “Her qualifications are… fine.” Which was underselling it. She’d read the file. When it came to biology and the life sciences, Fluttershy was a polymath. “Oh, worry not about the rest. Fluttershy is an oddball, but a worthy acquisition. Of course, I also knew your parents. They were the same; oddballs, true, but with great powers.” Twilight started speaking before her own ears tripped her brain, and the syllables stumbled out of her mouth helplessly. “My parents?” she managed. “Yes, when you’ve lived as long as I have, you get to know a surprisingly large number of notables.” Oh dear. “Notables? No, I think you’ve got the wrong mare. My parents have lived all their lives in the country. Unless you’ve visited our village, I doubt you’d have even met them.” Now Pyre’s smile had a glint in it, above and beyond what was expected of a crystal pony. “Oh my, is that so? After all, I did know a couple called Twilight Velvet and Night Light some years ago. Avid travellers, I remember them being, and famous freelance security personnel. Heroes,” Pyre translated. Sensing a trick, Twilight narrowed her eyes. “How did you know their names?” Pyre waved a hoof cheerfully. “Bah. Of course, I could have misremembered. Perhaps these two were some other ponies coincidentally called –” “Why, what did they do?” Alarm rushed through Twilight. He has to be wrong. This must be a mistake. Grinning, Pyre clapped his hooves together. “Ember? The Eighty-Two Volume, if you please?” Ember shoved the door aside, scowled at them both, and offered a vast tome. Merely opening the pages scattered dust. Or it must be a joke. Some kind of practical joke, or a test, or maybe even a trick. “Recognize them?” Pyre waved again, and Ember held up the book for Twilight to examine. There they were. Both of them. The same fringe on her mother, so straight it could have been cut by a steel ruler. Dark blue mane of her father, and general darker coat tending to bluish gray. Her blue eyes, his amber ones… Her teary smile… His proud one… “I had those taken when I met them twenty years ago.” Someone was speaking, and Twilight remembered; she was still in Pyre’s room, drinking in the photographs of three ponies, two of them Mom and Dad, right there, with the city skyline right behind them. “I’m frankly surprised you don’t know about this.” Her parents, smiling, waving at the camera, cheerfully indulging in something they couldn’t possibly have indulged in… No, that simply cannot be right. The evidence isn’t strong enough. Twilight’s spell pushed the book away. “My parents told me they’d lived in the country all their lives. If they were heroes, I’m sure they’d have mentioned it.” Rather sharply, she added, “It’s not something you’d forget.” “Oh dear.” Pyre nodded to Ember, who sullenly traipsed back into the adjoining room. “So your mother, Twilight Velvet, never mentioned that she once owned a baby dragon called Ember. Our very own Ember, in fact?” “What? No. Because it never happened!” “Really? Then I imagine she never told you about the War of Tirek? The struggle to rescue the kidnapped ponies? The attempted assassination of Princess Celestia? And Twilight Velvet’s part in the invention of the Heart of Gold Seven-Barrelled Laser-Guided Megaturret Rainbow Cannon?” Twilight seized on this. “Of course not! There’s no such thing.” Bitterly, Pyre added, “Yes, well, the prototype fell apart after the first use, and she destroyed the blueprints. A hero to the fullest. A lot of it happened abroad. Many ponies these days don’t care what happens overseas.” Less bitterly, he continued, “Twilight Velvet was hardly the first to prove herself a capable hero. Her – Your – ancestry contains many heroes, in fact. Ember?” Growling, Ember pushed her way back into the room, carrying another book and knocking the bear wardrobe on her way past. “You do know I’m ironing in there, right?” “Ohohoho, don’t I know it? I can smell the steam.” Another pair of pages opened before Twilight. Even her inner secretary fell silent. No matter what was being shown to her, the evidence must be at fault. Except this ran so strongly against the grain of her character that she gritted her teeth against the splinters flying off. Family trees floated before her. “I told you,” said Pyre happily, “I am fascinated by hereditary, both from seed to seed and from brain to brain. One pony survives, another dies, and what gets passed on is the secret of survival. Your Twilightian lineage ran against Nature’s strictest breeding program. Not a nice one, either.” Twilight saw her name over and over, merging as they went up and up the pages. Twilight Sparkle. Twilight Velvet. Twilight Candle. Twilit Robe. Twilit Crown. Twilit Lake. Two-Lights Gander. Two-Lights Seeker. Two-Lights Union. Twixt-Day. Twixt-Night. Twixt-Evenlight… “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” said Pyre from a long way away. Finally, Twilight looked around the pages to that infuriating smile. “There must be some mistake. My parents wouldn’t keep this a secret.” “Yes, I don’t understand it either. After all, we’ve all heard of your phenomenal power and skill.” “That’s not what I meant!” “My dear Miss Twilight Sparkle, don’t be so modest.” Pyre chuckled. “You should – indeed, could – no more deny the inheritance of those powers and skills than you should – or could – deny the inheritance of hooves or herbivory.” “Take the book away,” said Twilight. Then she remembered herself and met Ember’s scowl. This dragon knew my mother? No. I don’t believe that story. “Please?” she added. Snapping the book shut, Ember turned. “Anything else, Master?” she said as though longing to bite him. “Yes. Do you remember a mare… I believe her name was Twilight Velvet?” Tics and spasms flashed across Ember’s face. None of them were slow enough to tell what emotion it had been, but Twilight had seen them nonetheless. “I do,” said Ember. Her voice was careful. “But that was a long time ago.” “Good. That’s good.” The scowl returned. “Anything else, Master?” “No, I think that’ll suffice for now. Thank you, Ember.” “Wait!” Twilight called, but the dragon was already closing the white door behind her. Instead, she rounded on Pyre. “I did not inherit anything! I got here by my own talents. Which I learned. I wasn’t given an unfair advantage.” Pyre sighed, and for once the ages weighed heavily upon his skin. “Inheritance of another sort, Miss Twilight Sparkle. If it was not via your seed, then it was via your brain. There is no shame in accepting this.” “I know what you’re referring to.” Twilight’s veins rushed with lava. Her breath seemed as heavy and heated as smoke. “The idea that culture changes like Nature does over time. And I have to tell you that the theory is not credible. What you learn isn’t just spread. It’s… it’s reasoned, it’s developed, it’s, it’s… Look, even if I did have talent, I didn’t coast on it. Ponies aren’t like dogs or pigeons. No one breeds us. We make choices. We… we plan ahead.” “Ah,” said Pyre, nodding cheerfully. “I see. And yet, I’m not entirely sure you believe that, Miss Twilight Sparkle. Not alone in your practice, are you? There is no future in denying it. Lots of ponies project what they want onto society. But we both know…” Pyre whispered. “We both know ponies are really quite short-sighted and chaotic and muddled. Culture isn’t planned, or if it is, it rarely goes according to plan. Like Nature, it wanders freely. Or you could say it’s guided by an invisible hoof.” “I think we’re done here,” said Twilight. She glanced around the dead room for a clock, though she hardly needed one. Her mind throbbed with the knowledge of time flying onwards, leaving her own schedule behind – Shoot! That’s exactly what she’s been saying! Groaning, Pyre lifted himself out of his… seat. “I can have Ember escort you out.” “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.” Twilight hastened to her hooves. She knew her cheeks were burning with the embarrassment. “Trouble? Of course not! I haven’t had a discussion this stimulating in years. Guess it’s the Mage in me.” Aloud, he shouted, “Ember! You’re seeing our guest out! Do come! I’m sure Miss Twilight Sparkle would be honoured to have your company! For now, you may speak freely to her.” “As you wish,” muttered Ember, and Twilight felt her presence like an electric charge surging up from behind. “It’s your ironing.” “Ah, pish-posh. Clothes,” said Pyre dismissively. Before Twilight could hurry out, however, Pyre gripped her shoulder and shook her gently. “Whatever the case, I assure you Miss Fluttershy is a worthwhile acquisition.” “Acquisition?” said Twilight, struggling free. Her mind screamed out to be washed clean of the last few minutes. She had a horrible feeling it was going to tarnish her concentration for the rest of the day. “Do not waste her gifts. And do not waste yours either. I understand we’re not friends, but do think about what I’ve told you. It will help you, and I’m sure you’re destined for great things –” “Thank you for the tea, Mister Pyre. I must be on my way.” Twilight threw out the words. Thus divested of all the politeness she’d got left, she forced the door open and strode out. The steps gaped below Twilight like the teeth of a grand jawbone. The further down she went, the more the shadows and gloom engulfed her. Alongside her, claws clicked on the marble. Ember glared dead ahead, clearly resenting every second wasted in Twilight’s world. Mom and Dad would never hide anything from me. Why on earth should I believe one crazy pony who’s getting old? He’s an unreliable source of data. Ignoring her rational and reasonable thoughts, her skin tingled with sweat and nerves. Something about the idea was so preposterous that her own body dared it to be true. After all, both of her parents had never done anything more magical than bog-standard telekinesis spells. Yet that logically only proved that they’d never done it, not that they couldn’t. “So,” she said, hoping to sidle up to the issue via cunningly polite small talk, “you… work for Mister Pyre, huh? In this museum? That sounds like it could be interesting.” Not looking down at all, Ember said, “You’re wasting your breath. I do the housework because he says so. Doesn’t matter what I think.” “That’s awful,” Twilight said, and then chided herself for it. The words had slipped out with no regard for tactics or long-term strategy. “Yes, it is.” Ember’s tone betrayed nothing. “Not that a pony would understand.” “I do! Lots of ponies I knew back home treated other ponies like that. My parents knew Lord Blueblood could be –” “Did other ponies treat you like that?” No. I treated other ponies like that. I know I was wrong to do so, but they just got in the way all the time! I had to study. I didn’t realize I was hurting anyone’s feelings. If I could go back and change things, I would. “Well?” said Ember. She didn’t even sound impatient; her voice was low, sinking, and tired of this nonsense. “No,” Twilight admitted. “But no one has the right to treat you as a thing.” They turned the corner continuing down the staircase. Her voice rising with interest, Ember added, “You don’t have a dragon of your own, do you?” Not trusting herself to speak, Twilight shook her head instead. Ember glanced down and snorted. “I can smell the guilt coming off you,” said Ember. “What gives? You’re one of the strongest unicorns I’ve ever met. I can sense it. Yet you act like you have to bow down to everyone else all the time. Took you ages to lose your cool with my master.” “I thought dragons couldn’t speak their minds.” Twilight hoped that conversational gambit worked. “Pyre’s kinda relaxed, as masters go.” Their feet clicked on the last step. Either side of them, the corridor stretched away, carrying their voices and whispering back. “Doesn’t matter, though. With you and him and that Flutter-what’s-her-face, you ponies are all weird. I mean, look at your clothes. Your dressmakers have to run themselves ragged because you’re always changing your minds. First, it’s long skirts, then it’s puffy sleeves, then it’s suits.” “Dragons don’t wear clothes?” “Why would we? Scales are good enough.” “Well, I think our pony coats are good enough.” “For every occasion? Honestly, the idea’s crooked when you think about it. Special clothes for dances and balls and things? I’ve been around for centuries, and they’ve all looked stupid. It doesn’t do anything but fill the pockets of money-grubbing dressmakers. Yet you all fall for it.” Twilight bit her lip, if only because she half-agreed herself. Narrowing her eyes, Ember leaned down. “Are you sucking up to me?” “No,” said Twilight. “You reek like you wanna say yes to everything I say. For the record: that’s not a nice smell.” “I just don’t understand why you work for Mister Pyre at all,” said Twilight, and some of the heat flared along each word. “If you think it’s beneath you, why do it?” “Wow, you really don’t have a clue, do you? Magical obligation? Ownership trumps our desires? Physically impossible to disobey? The Mages go on about it all the time.” “They shouldn’t. It’s wrong to take away someone’s free will.” “Tough. It happens. What’s the big deal?” “Don’t tell me you like it!” Ember shrugged, which was worse than anything. If only she’d crack, admit she hated it, told Twilight was she was supposed to hear… “And now you smell of anger. That’s better.” “Will you please stop smelling my feelings? It’s kinda distracting.” Cool air settled on her flanks. The corridor whispered her words mockingly. “Let me guess,” said Ember as though she were disappointed by the obviousness of it all. “You’re one of those equal-opportunities types.” Unsure whether answering would help or not, Twilight fell silent. Probably she was giving off the smell of answers anyway. “Look,” said Ember. “We’re not the same. We’re in a museum full of things that aren’t the same.” “That same museum,” Twilight said, unable to hold her peace, “shows that we have common ancestors!” “So what? That was a long time ago. Anyway, don’t tell me you suddenly believe all that stuff Pyre was telling you. When it’s ‘magically’ convenient to you.” Twilight gaped as though she’d been slapped. “Ponies,” muttered Ember under her breath. Aloud, she said, “Things change. Slowly, bit by bit, but they change. Little differences get bigger. So everything’s different, bit by bit. How magical it is, how smart it is, how powerful it is, yadda yadda yadda. Look, the point is, sooner or later, you go from a small reptile thingy to… I dunno, a whale, or a crocodile, or whatever. You think we’re the same, you’re kidding yourself.” “But…” “Look, it’s dumb. Sweet, but dumb. Give up your little crusade for all dragonkind and smell the rose quartz. Or roses. That’s how it goes. Now come on. I’m supposed to be showing you the way out.” Ember’s claws tapped on the marble. Soon, Twilight’s hooves clopped after her. More archways and vaulted ceilings passed by. As the corridor continued, they entered the Hall of Sea Dragons. What at first resembled deep paintings on the walls were really framed slabs of limestone, encasing whole skeletons of long necks, bony flippers, and bulging ribcages. Some were small enough to have basked on Twilight’s saddle. Others were massive; one impressive skeleton had a skull that could have housed a curled-up pony and asked for seconds. All the same, and yet all so different. Fish lizards. Crocodiles with flippers. Massive-headed sea serpents. Creatures that could have escaped from mysterious lakes. I give up. I can’t put this off any longer. “You knew my mother? Is that true?” Ember did not look back; she admired – or at least looked up at – the larger sea dragon skeletons as they passed. “Yes, and yes. Why?” “How do I know this isn’t just a lie – sorry, a story – you were ordered to tell?” “Someone’s in denial,” said Ember; even the closest her voice came to happiness skulked in its efforts not to be caught doing anything so lame. “If it bothers you that much, why don’t you ask her?” “I’m asking you.” “Why bother? You don’t know this isn’t a lie-sorry-a-story I’m spinning out, remember?” Twilight peered through to an exhibition chamber. Lots of spindly insects and bulbous crabs featured prominently before she passed. Sighing, Ember said, “She wasn’t bad, as masters go. Hardly a master, to be honest. Half the time, she acted like she was the one who had to do all the work for me. I told you ponies are weird. You’re all over the place, too.” Another entrance came up; beyond, Twilight saw hulking, scaly models. Of course, before the mammals and the ponies, everyone knew there used to be an age of reptiles. Monstrous creatures that made even the strangest and grandest of hairy beasts today seem like embarrassing replacements. Some proposed that the age of reptiles never really ended, and with dragons hanging on to the present, Twilight felt they had a point. Dragons even did magic better than ponies; no pony had ever outgrown a mountain, or sprouted eight limbs. At least, until the Mages had put a stop to all that. So maybe dragons were on the way out too. Maybe ponies were finishing the work Nature had started a long time ago, when nearly all the reptiles’ triumphs had vanished from the world. Twilight shuddered at the thought. For once, she wished she had more power, not less. “They’re sooo amazing…” squeaked Sweetie Belle’s voice. “Wait.” Twilight stopped. She peered into the next chamber. Rich light filled this room, tinged blue to suggest an underwater world. Swimming through the air, distended mouths and blubbery walls strained against wires holding them aloft. Dolphins grinned among their grander giant cousins, flanked by porpoises. Underneath the life-size replicas and overshadowed by the blue information board, Sweetie Belle had tilted her head so far back that Twilight could see her muzzle and eyes on top. Ember’s breath surged near Twilight’s ear, making it twitch on instinct. “What?” said the dragon. And as Twilight watched the filly blink and cock her head to follow the humpback’s tail across, Twilight privately thanked the flighty attention span of young foals. If Sweetie Belle had carried on her search for Trixie, she wouldn’t have been around to make the point. “Aha,” said Twilight, and she gestured to the foal. “You see her?” “What about her?” Pride fought against honesty for Twilight’s mouth. “Sweetie Belle is a magical marvel. You know how I know that? Consider this: whenever she goes to school to learn magic, she never lives up to her full potential. But when she sneaks out to watch us at the dome, she can levitate things and summon things and practise our spells. And you know why she does that?” “Because truants have more fun?” said Ember, utterly confused. “No. It’s all down to contingency. Her environment. Who’s there and what motivates her. She suffers in one environment but thrives in another. Ha! What does that tell you!?” She wished she hadn’t delivered that last line so excitedly. Now that her words were echoing away, the noise was succumbing to whispers. In her mind, she added: Strictly speaking, there’s no cast-iron reason to think her schoolwork doesn’t have an effect. Not a subtle one. If only it had stopped Ember, left her gaping, or made her murmur thoughtfully how Twilight had a point. But no: Ember sniggered. Twilight’s rising pride glowed against the friction. “What’s so funny?” she said. Beneath the dolphin display, Sweetie Belle read aloud, “‘Dolphins use echolocation to find their way around. Can you make a noise like a dolphin in our special echo chamber?’ Okey dokey!” Ember pointed at Sweetie Belle, who was making strange “eee, eee” noises. “Look at her. I can sense her magic. She’s mediocre at best.” “Everyone has to start somewhere,” said Twilight desperately. “Really? So you were exactly the same back then?” This time, honesty won the battle, but it was a weak victory anyway. “No.” “No. And she’s got nothing like that Flutter-what’s-her-name has got, either. Sorry, Twilight Sparkle, but I’ll bet anything that pony’s ancestry holds no surprises.” Lower-tier magic unicorns, thought Twilight. I’ve met them. I know what that means. Sweetie Belle won’t be anything like me. She’s right. I’m kidding myself. “If it helps,” said Ember, “Pyre says her lineage will keep going. Something about the race not always going to the swift, or the powerful or the wise, either. It’s all about niches. Finding your place.” “And that’s it, is it?” spat Twilight. “You’re telling me I should just accept that?” Ember shrugged. “No one said it was nice.” Rage trembled through her. The very walls of the museum should have shattered trying to contain such a palpably monstrous truth. Princess Celestia herself ought to have descended in a vengeful blaze of light. Calmer voices in Twilight’s head reminded her that, a few hours ago, she’d wanted to send Sweetie Belle back to school. That was the law. The right thing to do. Education was “important”. But why, if it meant wiping out those days when Sweetie Belle cheered her own attempts at a laser spell? A spell Twilight had taught her, just to see if she could do it? “Eee! Eee!” Sweetie Belle cocked an ear in the echo chamber. Twilight rounded on Ember so fast the dragon actually drew her head up and away. “You’re wrong. There’s no reason Sweetie Belle can’t achieve great things if she sets her mind to it. Maybe I’d have to be there to help her, but so long as it could be done, then it should be.” “You’re crusading again.” Ember blinked down at her. “You’re totally crusading.” “Oh? Is that against the rules?” “Wow. Got a strong smell of shock on that one. Come on. Even you don’t believe what you’re saying.” “This museum is full of creatures that broke the rules. A few hundred years ago, we ‘proved’ that no animal could grow bigger than an elephant, and then we found the bones of dragons from long ago. They were stories and they were true! Dragons used to be just another lizard! Ponies used to be brown and looked like non-magical donkeys!” They both turned back to Sweetie Belle. “That’s just lineages and stuff,” said Ember. “No one animal changed.” “Everything had to start somewhere,” said Twilight. “And every animal did change. The smallest steps build up to the biggest leaps. You said it yourself.” Ember sighed. “You know what? You’re keeping me from my work. I’m done. Crazy ponies can find their own way out.” Twilight said nothing. She didn’t even watch; she just listened to the click of claws fading away. She wanted to blurt out her own thoughts and squeeze every emotion out of her chest. Anything to get rid of all this bile sliming around inside her. She stayed watching Sweetie Belle go “eee, eee”, this time with variations and even a few musical notes thrown in. Rarity might have taken most of the artistic talent, but Sweetie Belle had a voice stolen from angels. After a few minutes, Twilight’s inner secretary crept back in and nudged her, glancing at its watch meaningfully. Yet her inner foal pushed her forwards. She stumbled under the blue glow. “Sweetie Belle,” she said, holding her voice calmly. “I thought you were looking for Trixie?” “I thought she might be in here.” Sweetie Belle reared up onto a guard rail. Spread out before her were a series of furry creatures; they started off otter-like, and moved up through more crocodile-like forms to big and blobby and blubbery things with fins. “She’s probably gone outside.” Twilight rubbed the back of her neck. “Do you think she’s still mad at me?” “I dunno. You should have looked for her, though.” “Come on. Time to go.” Sweetie Belle’s front came down to the ground again. While Twilight turned and strode out, Sweetie Belle scampered ahead and around her, almost tripping over and over. “This place is awe-inspiring!” she was saying. “Did you know dolphins used to be these little things, and they weren’t very smart. There was this one called Indo-hee-uss…” “Indohyus,” corrected Twilight. “Indo-hy-uss.” She wasn’t really listening, but her ear always pounced on the minor details. “And then they got bigger and bigger and then they grew smarter and smarter over time, until we got dolphins!” “Uh huh.” “You think in time, ponies could end up like dolphins? I’d love to swim all over the place and play all day. I’d sing songs whenever I wanted. Sounds smart to me.” “Sounds very nice, Sweetie Belle.” They cleared the corridor and came out onto the main hall. Up ahead, the entrance glowed. “She sells seashells on the seashore,” said Sweetie Belle. “Interesting,” said Twilight. Halfway to the exit, Twilight’s brain caught up with her ears. “What?” she said. “Seeing if you were listening; I do that with Rarity to make sure,” said Sweetie Belle, and it was astonishing how much she swelled up with smugness. One little body shouldn’t be able to take in that much air. “Sorry,” said Twilight. “I’m kind of distracted.” “What with? Is it Trixie? Because you should be, you know. I think you hurt her feelings.” Twilight simply took it. To think: she’d only come over to ask about that new pegasus! Her mind was a maelstrom, her chest flooding, her mouth under a drought, and yet the inferno sent sparks and rolling heat her way, distant though it was. More things to deal with. They left the sanctuary of the past, and returned to the present, blinking under its blinding light. The noises of rumbling traffic and murmuring street crowds lived again. Twilight’s head went for twelve directions at once. “She sells seashells on the seashore?” muttered Twilight. “I picked it up in the bit with the sea dragons,” said Sweetie Belle, hopping down the steps. Twilight had no answer to that. She hadn’t even been ready for the question.