//------------------------------// // Forty // Story: Under The Northern Lights // by CoastalSarv //------------------------------// “We need to find the pegasus who was struck with the shrinking powder,” said Twilight, her eyes scanning their surroundings. Their guards had said they were free to move within the camp, but she wasn’t sure they weren’t being followed. “Wouldn’t he be by the ship?” said Spike, riding on Twilight’s back. “I only see reindeer around here...” Since she couldn’t see anydeer watching them, Twilight quickly trotted over the camp towards the Crimson Kraken. “Hello there, young jack,” she said to a donkey crewmember who stood by the gangway deeply engaged in the important chore of chewing tobacco. “Not that young,” said the jack and spit. “Whadda ya want, miss?” “Well, when you unloaded earlier, somebody was hurt in a magical accident,” Twilight said. “Do you know where I can find him?” “Whydya wanna know that?” said the jack, scowling. “He ain’t no freakshow exhibit!” “I...” Twilight hesitated. “I admit I’m interested in his condition, but that also means I might be able to cure it.” “Huh,” spit the jack. “Fancy that. Well, he’s got nothing to lose. Lad’s at Tunnan. His friends thought he needed to drown his sorrows.” “‘Tunnan’?” Twilight asked. “The Barrel,” the jack explained. “A tavern. The tavern.” “I know Poatsi,” said Twilight, irritated. “And I guessed he wasn’t drowning his sorrows in a hardware store. But where is it?” “Oh. Well, see the largest house up the hill?” said the jack and pointed a hoof. “Yes?” said Twilight and turned around. “Well, that ain’t it,” said the jack. “But there’s a house behind it ya can’t see from here, and that’s the spot.” “Okey, thanks a lot,” said Twilight. “Spike, give the gentlejack some coin.” Spike leaned forward to dig out a purse from the saddlebags. “No money!” said the jack and actually took a step backwards. “I don’t want any!” “Why not?” said Twilight. “If ya can help my friend Hailstone, that’s plenty o’ payment,” he said. “An’ if you’re up to some bad manure, I don’t want your money on me.” “Okay,” said Twilight. “Fair enough.” Then, after a pause: “What’s your name?” “Seeing as how I’m dealin’ with ya, I’m Chancellor Puddin’head,” the donkey said and spit out the last of his tobacco. “Goodbye then, Chancellor Puddinghead,” said Twilight with a wry smile. “Bye,” he said, taking out his tobacco pouch for a new wad and pointedly refusing to look at Twilight. She began to walk away, towards the big house that wasn’t Tunnan. “Um, Twilight,” Spike whispered, “I don’t think that’s really his name. I think he meant he’s crazy to talk to you...” “I know, Spike,” said Twilight. “I’m just humoring him. The important thing’s that we know where that pegasus is and that his name’s Hailstone.” It was getting dark now, and the weather didn’t make it any lighter. “Too bad about the clouds,” said Spike. “Otherwise, you could’ve taken your measurements from the stars now.” Twilight snorted with frustration. “Don’t remind me!” she sighed. “Though there might be another way, but it’s a last resort.” “And what’s that?” said Spike. “Luna and Celestia can find you after you have sent a letter with your fire,” she said. “You know, like when you were out hiking?” “Yeah?” said Spike. “Well, I don’t want them to land in the middle of the camp, but if I teleported the two of us as far as I could a couple of times, travelling only sort of blind, then you can send a letter and call for Luna’s help,” Twilight explained. “I wouldn’t want to be waiting for her close to the camp. Unless she brings a sizable part of the army it would be a good idea for them to get in a fight. Even Luna can be harmed by one of the cannons or Mr. Motelele’s magic. We won’t get the exact coordinates for the camp, but they will be close enough.” “You mean every time I send a letter, they can tell where I am?” said Spike. “Yes,” said Twilight. “Ahto let me send one for you, remember?” said Spike. “As long as Luna can remember where it came from, she can already tell where the camp is on the map. We just need to remind her of that.” “Why... you’re right!” said Twilight. “Can we leave now?” said Spike. “We can leave whenever we want,” said Twilight with a smug grin. “We might as well get a clear picture of the camp and the army and its defenses and so on. If Ahto doesn’t give us those guides soon, we’ll just use the trick I described and run for it.” Then she became solemn. “This won’t be an easy fight, like we imagined,” she mused. “We have nowhere near this many hooves. They are almost all actual soldiers, but we mostly have militia forces.” Spike didn’t say anything. He just shuddered a bit. Tunnan was built in two levels, one above and one below ground. The lower floor was a beer cellar, but also had tables, chairs and a bartender. The ground floor held a kitchen built around an iron stove and a second, smaller bar set in the middle of the room. It was surrounded with tables, none of which looked the same except a few made out of the same gigantic logs as the house itself. There were four small rooms in the back. Twilight saw a pegasus enter one of them with a giggling vaja at her side, and noted they were probably being used for more than sleeping off hangovers. The tavern was full of people drinking, eating, talking, drinking, smoking, playing knucklebones, drinking, working on getting somedeer to the rooms in the back and drinking. Most were reindeer, but there were some other breeds that must be from the pirate ship. In a pony inn, even a rough house of ill repute like this, there would have been music and dancing and probably song, but the reindeer seemed to replace that with more drinking instead. One of the pirates, another pegasus, was trying to get an old jukebox in a corner to work, with no results. He was wearing a poofy pink winter jacket and red bandana, clashing wildly with his green coat, but pirates probably didn’t care much about fashion. Rarity would have to be strapped to her fainting coach if she was here. Many glasses of liquor were halted halfway to lips when Twilight passed the drinkers. Eyes followed her as she walked up to the pegasus struggling with the jukebox and swearing loudly. She reached into the machine, feeling its many mechanical parts and few thaumaturgic circuits with her magic, pulling a few pistons, shaking the rows of old-fashioned vinyl records. The machine sputtered and started playing a rock tune that Twilight recognized as usually blaring from the huge kitschy stereo set owned by Rarity’s parents. The pegasus jumped back, bumped into Twilight, and swirled around to face a grinning unicorn. “Whoah!” he said. “What the hay do you want?!” “You’re welcome, fixing the machine for you was no problem,” said Twilight. “Besides, this place was a bit gloomy without music, dont’cha think?” He stood a while to catch his breath, looking Twilight up and down. “You’re that sorceress,” he said, “the royal agent. What do ya want from me?” Twilight sighed theatrically. “What I want to do they won’t let me, since Princess Celestia has abolished hanging pirates without judgement and examination,” she said and grinned very widely at him. He shrank back a bit, his eyes widening, and Spike noted with some worry that he was very interested in his cutlass which hang at his side. “So I’ve to settle for curing magical ailments,” she said. “Do you know where I can find a pegasus named Hailstone?” “Hailstone’s my bro’,” said the pegasus. “What do ya want with him?” “I believe I can help him with his wing,” said Twilight. “I saw the accident, and I got the impression your ship’s mage wasn’t interested in helping.” The pegasus’ face first flashed red with anger and then turned pale with fear, until he collected himself. “No, he wasn’t,” he said. “Why’re you interested?” Twilight sighed. “Y’know I can get the reindeer not understanding it, but how come you can’t realise how a mare can just help somepony out of the kindness of her heart?” said Twilight. “Y’know, good old Equestrian values? Like Celestia, frosted cupcakes and the right to burst into song spontaneously?” The pegasus laughed. “Yeah, sure,” he said. Then, deadly serious: “What do ya want?” It was worth a try, Twilight thought. “If I can undo the damage, I’ll know how to cause it,” she said, shrugging. “Where’s Hailstone?” The pegasus pirate sighed and rubbed his nose. “We, er, bought him some does and a bottle of hooch, and the tavernkeeper gave us a room for free out of pity,” he said. “It’s the one in the north corner. I don’t know if it’s working, but he hasn’t come out for several hours. I hope that is good.” Twilight hesitated. If the pony was trying to ease his pain with... companionship, maybe walking in on him would be awkward. On the other hoof, it had been hours, the other pirate said. He had to be... done by now. On the third hoof... “Spike, get me a cup of coffee from the bar,” said Twilight, checking that there was no coffee pot on or thermos visible in the bar. “And something sweet, if they have it. Get something for yourself as well. No milk or vodka in the coffee.” “Sure,” said Spike nervously as he hopped off and went over to the bar. Good, she thought. Maybe I can get any working vajas out of the way before the minor sees them working. Twilight knocked at the door. “Who there?” said a distinctly cervine voice. “Help for his wing,” said Twilight. The door opened a little. A doe with makeup that would have fit a pony better looked out, her lips clenching an unlit cigarette. When she saw Twilight she first stared at the unicorn uncomprehending. Then understanding dawned and her face contorted with fear. “Please... please no harm me,” she whined, stepping back. Twilight groaned and facehoofed. “Harm?” she said in Poatsi. “I’m just here to help your... customer with his ailment, if possible. I wish you no harm.” “Oh,” said the doe. “He’s pretty bad. He’s been drinking and... well, crying like a foal.” Her face showed a mix of disgust and pity. “He hasn’t touched any of us,” she explained as she let Twilight enter the room, which held a bed and a barrel used as a table. “Except well, hugging. He needed hugging. And puking up vodka.” A rusty metal bucket that stunk to high heaven was on the floor together with three empty liquor bottles and a couple of brown, squat bottles that must have contained beer. A dirty towel and a wooden pitcher sat on the barrel. The room stunk not only of vomit but also of alcohol, tobacco and sweat, and had a faint tinge of something else. Tears? Twilight wondered. No, you cannot smell tears. “Has he taken some medication?” said Twilight and went up to the blue pegasus lying on the unkempt bed. Another doe was lying hugging him from behind, her left front leg avoiding the grotesquely shrunken wing. He was breathing raggedly, his eyes shut. “He claimed he’s in pain... so the boss brewed up some willow bark mush...” said the doe who had let Twilight in. “Did it work?” said Twilight and bent down over the pegasus. That’s what smells, she thought. “...no,” said the doe. “Don’t... don’t hurt him,” said the other doe. Her face looked horrid, and not because of her cheap makeup. Sorrow and fear had ate at it. Twilight wondered what could make her care that much about a... customer. Twilight’s feelings must have shown, for the doe said: “He’s... he’s so pitiful.” Twilight focused her magic on the wing. The pegasus cried out, and the doe tried to calm him, attempting to talk soothing in broken Equestrian, then resorting to singing a lullaby in Poatsi with her hoarse voice. “Spatial dimensions are broken, that’s why it’s warped,” Twilight thought out loud. “It is constantly striving to regain normal size, stretching and moving. That’s why he’s in pain.” “What can you do, miss?” said the other doe anxiously. Twilight grimaced as she tried to dissolve the magic. “No use,” she muttered. “Its effects are maintained by persistent traces of the powder used. Unless they are all clean away, which would need some kind of miniature industrial vacuum cleaner, the only cures are a long wait or the counteragent.” She rose. “Hailstone!” she said. “Hailstone, can you hear me?” The pegasus looked up and barely noticed her presence through a mist of pain and drunkenness, but he nodded. “I’m going to get the antidote to cure your wing,” she said. “Don’t fret, we’ll end your pain soon.” She nodded to the does who gave weak fake smiles as they looked at Hailstone. “Puh-please kill me!” he whimpered. “Don’t listen to him,” said Twilight and made as to leave the room. “Not if he says that.” “Here’s your coffee, Twilight!” said Spike who had just entered. “Phew, this place stinks!” “Seriously, don’t,” Twilight said and took the coffee mug, which said WORLD’S BEST SIRE! in Equestrian. “Please clean him up and the room as well. Spike, give the ladies some money for working overtime with the poor guy.” “It’s okay, miss, we do cleaning here as well,” said one of the does and smiled. “I mean, and waitressing...” As Twilight hastily drank her coffee, Spike gave the waitresses (among other things) some bits. Then Twilight let Spike mount up and they headed out the door. “Where’re we going?” said Spike. “To talk with Mr Motelele,” said Twilight. “It’s either him or collecting that counteragent from the reindeer, and I assume they need it for their work. He has to have a dose handy among his other powders and potions.” “It didn’t seem like he wanted to help before,” said Spike. “I hope I can reason with him, bribe him, pay him or threaten him to help,” Twilight said. “I need to talk to him anyway and learn more about him.” “How’re we gonna find him?” said Spike. “He’s a giant Spike,” said Twilight and rolled her eyes. “He can’t even get inside any of the buildings here. I’m sure we can find him.” It turned out Motelele was up at the border of the camp where the forest began. It was on a small sod shelf above the beach beneath it, between large firs. He had made a large fire and set up a brazier. He was boiling something in a pot on the first, and mixing something in a crucible on the other. Tendrils of his gray mist-like magic moved from his head far above the blazing fires down to the vessels below. Only his eyes were visible as glowing spots on a shadowy shape that rose like a misshapen tree above them. “Mr Motelele,” said Twilight, “am I glad to see you! We have some much to talk about!” She smiled up at him, even if she wasn’t sure if he could even see her. “Why would I want to talk to you, unicorn?” he said, his head bending a small bit downwards, acknowledging her presence. “Well, as a fellow mage, I assumed you would be curious in general, willing to learn and experience new things, especially magic,” said Twilight. “I know all I evah need,” he grunted. “Why should I let you steal my secrets?” “I beg your pardon, I see no need for this... aggression,” said Twilight. “I merely thought a disputation would be mutually beneficial, and you can hardly know all magic there is in the world...” “Well, you were wrong!” he barked and bent down even further. “I’ve got great powah, the greatest in the world!” “Surely you must realize cooperation gives you greater results in the end?” Twilight said. “The sum is greater than its parts, after all.” “‘Tis weakness to depend on others,” he said. “And only a fool shares his powah, and I’m no fool!” Twilight’s eyes narrowed, an action wasted on the irate giraffe. “Is that so?” she said. “Not only does that hardly fit with my personal experiences in the field, you are clearly cooperating with others now, in an alliance with the rest of the crew on the Crimson Kraken.” “Hah!” he said. “They cannot tell me what to do!” “Oh,” said Twilight and pointed to the boiling, smoking pot. “Your work, Mr Motelele, says otherwise.” She moved closer to it and the giraffe shifted his feet as if nervous. “You are making a dye here out of rhobe roots, cheap wine and... is that ...butter?” she said sniffing the pot. “Nevermind, a red dye that keeps for a long time, usually used for wool and, incidentally, is very flammable, you’d better be careful about that. What could that be for, you’re not a clothier?” She stepped around the pot and closer to the giraffe and he turned a bit to keep his eyes on her. “Well, of course it is for the captain’s dye job, an unnecessary affectation since everyone knows she is Sudden Gale anyway,” said Twilight. “That can’t be for your sake, or even for the sake of the ship. The captain made you do that. In any case, the mere fact that you aren’t the captain shows that you’re not commanding the ship, you are part of the crew. Cooperating.” “I... got well paid for that,” the giraffe growled. “I doubt that,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Anyway, since you’re selling the results of your art even while refusing to speak about it, I came here with business for you.” “And what would that be?” the giraffe said. “I want to buy a dose of the counteragent for your shrinking powder,” she said. “How much?” “I’m not selling,” he said. “Why?” said Twilight. “First, the ingredients to the shrinking powdeh ah raeh, so I cannot get new ones heh,” he said, “and the without the counter agent it’s much less useful. Second, because I don’t like you!” “One of your fellow crewmembers are suffering the torments of Tartarus because of your powder,” said Twilight. “Have you now mercy on the poor pegasus?” “Mercy is foh the weak,” said the giraffe. “He sails the ship with you!” said Twilight. “He’s your companion!” “He’s only himself to blame,” said the giraffe. “I owe him nothing!” Twilight sighed. “There is no reasoning with you, is there?” she said. “No, theh isn’t,” said the giraffe. “I’m right, is all.” Twilight looked a long time at the giant sorcerer and scowled at him. “You are weak, don’t you know that, Mr Motelele?” she finally said. “Weak?” he roared. “I can END you!” “No, you can’t,” said Twilight. “And yes, you are weak, and in danger. Do you want help with that?” “I’m mighty in both flesh and spirit!” he roared again. “I need no one! You least of all!” “Yet you have made yourself weak!” said Twilight. “Look at you! Why would I need your paltry secrets, they are easily discerned from observing you.” She walked a bit again in a semi-circle and again the giraffe turned slowly following her. “Like your name,” said Twilight. “‘Motelele’ means something like ‘long and gangly’ in Nuuban. No giraffe names their child something like that. It would be like naming a pegasus ‘Wings’. Now, pirates often give up their names since they are wanted criminals, but I don’t think that’s it, since you are such a proud giraffe. I think you’re afraid of telling people your name because of that old superstition that it gives them power over you!” Motelele backed off a bit. “Now, modern zebra magic dismisses that notion for most form of magics not involving spirits,” Twilight said. “It won’t affect most spells I know, for instance, neither those powders you carry around. So, needless superstition.” Twilight’s horn lit up and a ray of light shone upon his pouch-covered chest. “However, what you have there’s not mere superstition,” she said as the ray played over a poppet in the form of a giraffe attached to his chest with thin iron chains. “That’s a special fetish to attract malicious magic away from the target. Any hostile magic will affect that poppet instead. I’m pretty certain it will stop most forms of magic, including the effects of something like zebra artificiery. I can feel its power. Real clever! Requires hard work.” She smiled up at him and let the ray sweep over his face. “Too bad it’s used wrong,” she said. “Don’t you understand you’re not supposed to keep those on your body? And why do you need it on board ship? There are no other mages there to murder you.” She continued to circle him. “And oh yes, you’re afraid of murder,” she said. “Since you’re such a massive jerk who’re unable to cooperate with your crewmates, who just, oh, happen to be violent criminals, you’re constantly afraid, which makes you jumpy, uncertain and weak!” She pointed at him. “Look at him, Spike!” she said. “It’s clearly visible in the way he walks and on his face that he’s stopped sleeping. How long has it been, Mr Tall And Gangly? Four months, five? Wonder how I know it? You stink of it!” She sniffed the air theatrically. “Not even your breath, ‘cause that’s too far away, but you’re sweating stimulants,” she said. “Do you know how much this lack of real sleep and those hyper-caffeine potions you’re swilling slows down your reasoning, your reaction speed... your magical power? I bet you’re operating at sixty to seventy percent, tops. At hundred you might’ve beaten me. Now, you’ve no chance.” “I’ve got my talisman!” the giraffe mumbled. “Puh-lease!” said Twilight. “I’ve just learned about it and have already devised three ways to counteract it. You know how? Because I’m adapting and learning. You know how? By cooperating with other mages. That, among other things, taught me to avoid superstition for proven magics, how to actually utilize talismans, and the harmful side effects of constant potion use.” She completed the circle and he followed, back where he began. “And would you look at that trampling around?” she said. “Why do you have to face me all the time? Can’t you defend yourself otherwise? I don’t need to look at my target, and you don’t win much by sidestepping anyway, you’re just making yourself uncoordinated.” Motelele stopped and stood still, but was still nervous as Twilight completed a full circle once more walking slowly. He twisted his head backwards. “You’ve got all this potential and you’re wasting it when you need it the most,” said Twilight, “since the Captain obviously has it in for you. I could help you with this... in return for very little. Such as a certain counteragent. You still not interested?” “No!” said the giraffe, but his already sniffly voice had become a bit hoarser. He bent even lower down, spreading his legs, staring at her, sweat pouring down his face despite the cold wind. “Fine!” said Twilight. “I’ll solve this myself. But the offer still stands. You’re not lost... yet. Give me a call when you’re ready to talk business. Goodbye, Mr Motelele!” She more or less galloped away. “Whoah, Twilight!” said Spike, holding on for dear life. “Where’re we going? And did you really need to make that guy angry?” “We’re going to find that reindeer responsible for the crate that was also shrunk,” she said, grinding her teeth. “As for Mr. Motelele, he’s getting me angry, so he started it! He’s not just evil, worse, he’s stupid!” They wandered a bit among the kota huts, Twilight asking sharp questions in Poatsi. It was now very late, and reindeer were going to bed. Still, she was shown to the vaja who had taken care of it. She kept it in the hut she slept with other valuables, instead of in the large house up the hill which turned out to be the main warehouse. “These things are for sale to our... contacts down south,” she said. “I need the powder to restore it for selling, and I need the crate small so it can be transported on an ackja.” “I need the powder to stop a pony from suffering,” said Twilight. “While not of your kin, he’s an ally in a war you take seriously. Surely you must realise taking care of the wounded supercedes selling your plunder? This place is not poor.” “He deals with sorcerers, he has only himself to blame,” said the vaja and shrugged with a face that added, And he’s not of the same species or nationality as me, so I’m going to ignore that he is a thinking being. Twilight sighed very deeply. She pressed her hoof to her face and breathed even deeper. “Lady, I’m a representative of the Equestrian crown,” she began. “This - everything here, in this hut - was stolen from my countryponies. It’s not yours to sell.” She levitated the shrunk crate from the ground and the vaja gasped. “What...” she said. “In fact, you make me so sick I can’t stand to see this ill-gotten goods anymore!” Twilight said, and with a mere flick of her neck, the crate shot away as from a catapult and disappeared in the darkness far over the choppy frozen waters of the bay. “NO!” the vaja shouted, her eyes like dinner plates. “Now, give me the powder!” Twilight said. “A stallion is suffering, and you don’t need it anymore.” The other craters and sacks in the hut started to levitate. “But...” said the vaja. “I’m tired of selfishness and foolishness and excuses!” Twilight said, her eyes glowing purple. One of the sacks shot away and disappeared into the darkness. “Here it is! Here it is!” the vaja babbled and dug out the pouch from under another box, as if she had hid it so she wouldn’t have to see it. “Good!” said Twilight and dropped the merchandise down. “And if you have a complaint, take it up with the good Captain Coat. It’s her crewmember which got damaged because her ship’s mage is a cruel fool! She can repay you! Goodbye!” Twilight stomped out of the hut and galloped up to the tavern, a very worried Spike hanging onto her back. As Twilight distributed the counteragent widely spread using her telekinesis, the shrinking powder started to dissolve. Hailstone’s wing stretched and bent and grew and he screamed hoarsely in short horror before it took his normal shape. He collapsed into a faint, but his breath soon grew normal and steady and his face relaxed. Slowly, the tavern guests, reindeer and others, started to stomp in approval. “Just check on him so he doesn’t have some strange relapse,” Twilight said to the pegasus who had identified himself as Hailstone’s ‘bro’ and the does who had helped him. “We will,” said the pegasus. “Thanks, I guess.” “No big deal,” said Twilight. “I just had to shout inefficiently at rude people.” “What?” said the pegasus. “Nevermind,” said Twilight, “just reflecting.” “Can I get you something, ma’am?” said the tavernkeeper. “A sarsaparilla,” said Twilight. Then, after the requisite stares: “I just don’t feel decadent tonight, okay?” It would be wrong to call them festivities, but after some more amiable drinking of sodas and some late-night snacks, while tunes liked by Twilight’s parents generation played on the jukebox, Twilight and Spike returned to their assigned sleeping place. “If we’ve been followed, we gave them quite a workout,” Twilight mumbled as she approached Jarl Ahto’s hut. They were almost there when they met the jack from earlier in the evening. “Hello, Chancellor,” Twilight said, yawning. “What’re you doing here?” “Chewing ‘baccy,” he said, demonstrating. “Do you have to do that here?” said Twilight. “Well, I also have something for ya,” the jack said and fished out a kind of small clay pot with a glass stopper. “A powder grenade,” said Twilight critically. “Aw, you shouldn’t have.” “Well, you helped Hailstone, an’ I like him and owe him,” the jack said, chewing. “An’ he’s enough of a wuss that he doesn’t want to make the Captain angry. So he ain’t gonna give any substantial thanks, hence I’m doing it.” He fished out another grenade from his bags. “This is his, that’s mine,” he said and gave it to Twilight. “We were issued them if things go south with the barbarians.” “What do they do?” said Spike. “Muck up reindeer something fierce, but just make other people sneeze,” the jack said, shrugging. “At least that’s what the giraffe said. “ He spat. “I see,” said Twilight. “Keep ‘em close,” said the jack and made to leave. “Things might go south with the reindeer for you too, and I’m not planning on fighting berserk northern barbarians anyway.” “Thanks, Chancellor,” Twilight said. “You’re welcome,” said the jack and slunk off. “Well, ain’t this a daisy, to quote Applejack,” said Twilight. “I wonder if that old charlatan tells the truth when he claims he has a weapon that only works on one species. Given that the crew is that diverse... he’d need something that affects none of them, yet all reindeer.” “Maybe it makes your antlers fall off or something?” said Spike. “Whatever,” said Twilight. “I’m going to sleep.” The Jarl had already retired, his adjutant sleeping close as their beds suggested. Are they that close kin? Twilight thought. Maybe lovers, ancient pegasus style, fighting together? Or is Hakon just a very cuddly bodyguard? She sighed and crept down into her bed. It was unearthly comfortable given the circumstances. Well, reindeer had slept on the ground for centuries, and she was really tired...  “About time,” Crimson Coat said and inspected the pot of thick blood-red dye. “I was starting to lose my hue.” The giraffe didn’t comment, just watched her settle with the pot. “Was there anything else?” she said and looked up to the giraffe. “I met the unicorn today,” said Mr Motelele. “So?” said Crimson Coat and dabbed some dye on her wing to check the result. “The barbarian hasn’t sent heh away yet, noh has he killed heh, noh has he used her otherwise,” said Motelele. “She’s just been here a short time!” said Crimson Coat. “Give’im time. His witch has given her a clean record. Though the bastard asked a lot of stupid questions today, all holier-than-thou up to his antlers and all over me about it.” The giraffe laughed, a loud, eerie, hollow sound, interrupted by a mighty sneeze. “Bless you,” said the Captain. “I’ve found why I cannot note anything with my Sight, despite her magic powah,” he said. “I should see it, but I don’t.” “Because you’re losing your touch?” said the Captain, sneering. “She’s using a zebra grigri to rend her unnoticable to Sight,” he said. “Invisible. Undetectable. Those things were made to protect zebra from us giraffe.” The Captain looked up at the giraffe with open mouth. “They will make a reindeeh witch’s little powah useless,” he said. “The unicorn is hiding something, maybe hiding much.” The Captain grinned widely. The giraffe grinned back. “I think this knowledge should be shared with ouah ally,” he said. “Sometimes, Mr Motelele, you surprise me,” the Captian said. “First this,” and she prodded the pot of dye, “and now this,” and she gestured in general. “You’re almost worth your share of the loot.” “I endeavah to do my best, Cabtain,” the giraffe said, grinning wickedly. The usual thanks to my proofreaders, Wheelwright and LadyMoondancer