//------------------------------//
// A Glimmer of Hope 
// Story: On the Rocks 
// by iisaw 
//------------------------------//


Chapter Three
A Glimmer of Hope

In which the philosophy
of planting a dozen seeds to raise one sprout
is given a piratical bent.

July 9th, 1013
On the Heights and in the Night Market
Stone Town, Zanzebra


I found that I had somehow given in to all of Fluttershy's demands and Nebula would be getting a complete refit and glamor make-over. It was a good thing I had hefty letters of credit through the more reputable eastern banking houses, but I worried that I might have to turn to actual piracy before the year was out just to keep my ship aloft.

Actual gold leaf on the big stars forward of Nebula's steering fins? How had I ever agreed to that? Yet there was my signature on the work order. I was fairly sure it wasn't a forgery.

"Pardon me, darling," came Rarity's voice from behind me as I stood on the mooring tower gantry, staring up at my glittering ship in disbelief.

I didn't even turn around. "No, I am not ordering a case of artisanal brass polish!"

There was a pause, and then Rarity positively cooed at me. "Is there such a product? Ooh, Twilight, darling! You must—"

"No, no!" I insisted, turning to face her. "There is no such thing! I was being sarcastic, and we couldn't afford it even if it was real!  We will barely be able to pay our port fees by the time we're finished here!"

"Well, if you'd let us keep just a teensy bit of the treasure we recover from those horrid pirates, we could easily—"

I just glared at her.

"Oh, well, I can see you're in a mood, and I won't bother you any further! But we simply must talk about a few absolutely necessary accoutrements as soon as you feel calmer!" She swept past me and trotted down the stairs to the base of the tower.

I went into my cabin and fumed. A bit; I had to admit that Nebula looked glorious. 

After lunch, Rarity came back aboard and Mr. Fairlead informed her that I wanted to see her in my cabin. She came in with a cautious expression on her face. "Twilight, dear, I hope you aren't—"

"Which one?" I interrupted her.

"Pardon?"

Which outfit?" I clarified pointing to my bunk where I had laid out my best sets of clothing. "I'm having dinner with Zenobia and her family tonight. I got a note saying some of the Councillors and other important ponies will be there as well, and I want to make a good impression."

"Oh!" Rarity's expression brightened considerably, and she stepped over to the bed, her horn shimmering to life. "Not this tacky old thing, that's for certain!" she said, floating my indigo and platinum evening coat and accessories back into the wardrobe.

I had bought the outfit only a few months ago on her advice. The lace alone had cost me over 300 silver riyals. I bit my tongue and waited patiently.

"Not the gardecorps… too fussy," she muttered to herself.  "Red and gold, I think. To match Nebula's new stars."

"My ship won't be going along," I pointed out.

"No," Rarity agreed, holding up my oxblood greatcoat and turning it around to examine it more closely. "But everyone knows about the new gold stars. They're the talk of the town, and ponies will have them in mind when you meet them."

It made a kind of sense. "But isn't that coat a bit rough for a fancy dinner?" I asked.

"That's the point, darling!" Rarity couldn't quite keep a note of exasperation out of her voice. "It is rough and practical, but also beautiful. Just the thing for a pirate in polite company!"

"Privateer," I corrected her. I had the Letters of Marque from three different Zebrican nations to prove it.

She went on without acknowledging the facts of the matter. "If you try to dress-up, as they say, you will only look like you're trying to climb above your station. If you dress appropriately, but richly, the nobles will see you as a mare who has become an utter success in her field!" She paused and looked over at me. "You do have a large gold hoop earring, don't you?"

"Arrr," I replied.

Rarity sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'll switch out these brass buttons for gold, and add that gold collar I picked up in Marelawi. That and a ruby pendant and a dozen or so golden hoofrings should do it. My ensemble will be much less flashy, but still stunning, I assure you."

"Huh?" I blinked. "You're coming along?"

"Of course, darling! This—" She waved a hoof at my floating jewelry. "—will be impressive, but I will be your most impressive accessory!" She thought for a minute and then added, "And I should have a word with dear Khaatarrekket. She should be suitably attired as well."

Once again, things were out of my hooves, but I found that I didn't mind all that much. When we were bathed, made-up, dressed, and accessorized half to death, we made quite a sight, I had to admit. Ket was a bit of a surprise, though.

"Bodyguard," Rarity explained to me.

"Okay," I admitted, waving a hoof at Ket's new huge male body. "She's.... uh… he's very impressive, but… you and me, Rarity? The last thing we two need is a bodyguard! Aside from magic, I'm wearing my shortswords for Celestia's sake, and if you don't have a half-dozen blades hidden under that dress, I'll eat my eyepatch! The last time some nit-wits tried to rob us—"

"Yes, yes, but it's all about image, Twilight!" she said. "Necessary or not, to be without a fearsome-looking attendant in the evening is tres déclassé!"

Trust Rarity to know the finer points of upper-class etiquette on Zanzebra.

Zenobia lived in a nice little compound about halfway up the old basalt mountain that rises behind the city. We took a carriage up from Gold Market street because Rarity nearly fainted when I suggested we walk. I suppose she was right, because it seemed like half the upper city was arriving in front of the house, and they had brought so many servants with them that the poor ponies had to stand outside the wall in the street. 

A young zebra standing at the gate spotted us and rushed out to escort us (minus Ket, who went to join the crowd of professional bruisers) into the house. Zenobia and her mother greeted us warmly, but as Zen hugged me she whispered quickly into my ear, "I'm sorry about this! I will make it up to you!" 

Evidently things had gotten out of hoof on her end as well.

I already knew a couple of the Counselors, and they made much of the acquaintance, introducing me to the rest as if they were my closest friends. I was initially miffed that everypony seemed to be ignoring Rarity, but then I realized that nopony was introducing their companions. Rarity hadn't been joking about being an accessory.

I bore it stoically; the Canterlot nobility weren't much better. But I was disappointed. I had expected a cozy family get-together, not a full-blown soirée! But I was on full display and I made the best of it. I don't know if I have much natural talent as a storyteller, but all I had to do was channel my inner Rainbow Dash, and recount some of the exaggerated tales I'd heard her spin on Nebula's deck. It seemed to satisfy almost everypony.

There wasn't enough space for all the guests in the dining room, so tables were set up in the garden under silk canopies and surrounded by colored lanterns. I'm fairly sure Zenobia had to borrow cushions and other furniture from her neighbors. Dinner was… well, I'm not sure exactly what it was. Excellent, of course, but I was so engrossed in conversation I can't exactly remember the dishes I ate. There was music, too. Lovely, exotic melodies that were almost completely drowned out by the chatter. 

After dinner, I got a very nice surprise indeed. The chief Councilor and the president of the Merchant's Guild announced that the Guild treasury was going to cover half of Nebula's refit costs, now and at any time we put into Stone Town thereafter. I was stunned at this sudden, incredible generosity, but as Zenobia explained to me afterwards, it was mostly canny self-interest on the Guild's part. 

The eastern pirates had learned to be terrified of Nebula and her crew.[1] News that we were anywhere near Zanzebra would guarantee that the trade routes to and from the city would remain untouched by all but the most clueless or desperate. Our presence saved the great merchant houses of the island millions in lost ships and cargo. They could well afford to coat Nebula's entire envelope with gold leaf. It was no wonder I was suddenly so popular.

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[1] Lately, we had had to resort to disguising the ship and planting false rumors of our planned course in order to catch any of them.
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The party began to break up around midnight. I promised Zenobia that we would sneak a quiet, cozy meal together on the down-low, later in the week. I made an attempt to apologize to Ket and Rarity for having left them out of the activity while we waited for our carriage, but Rarity would have none of it. 

"Oh, pish-posh darling! While you and all the sharp stripes were hob-nobbing at the high table, I was awash in a positively delicious whirlpool of gossip! I have the dirt on every high family on the island now!" She did a gleeful little dance on her hoof tips and squealed in delight.

Well, we all have our hobbies, I suppose.

Ket was likewise unperturbed, but for slightly different reasons. "Being upstanding citizens, you lot couldn't drink or gamble. I won a few hundred shillings at dice, and am pleasantly tipsy."

I chuckled. "It seems like a successful evening all around then." It was true. Everything had gone very well, but I felt… restless for some reason.

I thought about it as the carriage worked its way down the switchbacks of the highland road. We had been successful beyond my wildest hopes, but Rawboned Mari was still out there somewhere. She was the worst of the eastern pirates, brutal, merciless, and worst of all, smart. In the last few months, I'd done my best to hunt her down, trap her, or trick her into revealing herself, all to no avail. I'd ruined the plans of her minions time and again, and nibbled at the edges of her fleet, but had never come close to the mare herself.

Was I afraid that my success so far would hamper me in the future? Would capturing the Pirate Queen be the final victory I hoped for… even assuming I could pull it off? Or would dozens of replacements spring up in her wake?

I suddenly realized that I was ruining a wonderful night by worrying about future events not yet determined, and I snorted in disgust at myself. I looked around and realized that we were only a few blocks from Mareajani Street. I tapped on the forward rail and called out, "Acha hapa!"

Rarity and Ket gave me puzzled looks as the carriage slowed to a stop. "I'll see you back aboard," I told them, and hopped out onto the street.

They had questions. Of course they did. But I trotted off into the night before Rarity could get beyond sputtering in surprise. I ducked into a narrow little alleyway and worked my way toward the Night Market. 

I caught the smells first. It was after midnight, but most ponies in the region ate very late; cafes and restaurants were open to nearly dawn. Scents of coffee, spices, hot oil, and even frying meat teased my nose. Then I heard the soft murmur of conversations in dozens of languages, echoing from the mudbrick walls like the sound of a distant sea. Finally the lane opened up and rich panoply of the market lay before me.

During the day, the Mareajani Bazaar was a giant spice market. I had bought many hundredweights of cloves, nutmeg, anise, cinnamon, and suchlike there for trade cargos, and knew the place very well… at least in the daytime. After the sun was well down, and the spices were locked away in warehouses, the space became the Night Market. 

Little stalls and ad hoc cafes spilled out from under the big, open-sided building that was the official marketplace and covered most of the pavement of the surrounding streets. Twinkling lights of all kinds hung from the canopies, awnings, and even the trees lining the street. A good deal of what was sold from the little stalls were trinkets; little luxuries that couples out for a meal or a stroll might buy each other by impulse. Jugglers, fire-eaters, and musicians wandered through the crowd, performing for tossed coins. Despite the late hour, toys for small foals were not an uncommon item. Clothing and jewelry, fine dishes and silverware, all were to be had at the Night Market.

On a previous visit, Rarity had discovered a stall that sold curious woodcarvings imported from the interior of Zebrica. Nebula's crew had nearly bought out the whole stock and many homes in Ponyville now contained interesting bits of inexplicable art, gifted to the families by one of their more unusual friends.[2] I kept an eye out for the stall while I wandered… out of nostalgia, I suppose, but they almost all changed locations each night, and I had other places to be.

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[2] There was a very blatant fertility symbol proudly displayed on the wall of Mrs. Cake's parlor. Fortunately, nopony ever realized what it represented because it was strongly stylized and Pinkie Pie had hung it upside down. And now that I come to comment on it, I'm not sure if that was an accident or not.
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One of the stalls that didn't move every night was a little place tucked between two irregular buildings across the street from the main market hall. It was a space that had been created by roofing over an alley and building a wall at either end. If it wasn't the most narrow restaurant in the world, I would be very surprised. During the day it only sold snacks to go, passing them out over the bottom half of the double doorway that occupied most of the front wall, but at night it spewed forth an amazing amount of low tables and cushions, as well as canopies, pole lanterns, and even a few potted palms. The space in front of the tiny restaurant was transformed into a charming sidewalk (and roadway) cafe.

Even better, the proprietors were giraffes from Tanzebria, and utterly unencumbered by any devout attitudes towards alcohol. They sold the best palm wine in the city. I was pleased that they recognized me and I spent a few minutes chatting with them before ordering and selecting a table. A young zebra couple were seated at the one I wanted, but a hoofful of gold and a chance to brag that they'd had a quick drink with the Captain Blackmane convinced them to let me have it. 

I sat down with my back to the brown and white bricks of the wall next to a conveniently placed potted palm. The plant screened me from most of the market, while allowing me to see fairly well out through its fronds. I settled in, uncorked my jug of wine, and began the attempt to derail my inexplicable melancholy.[3] 

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[3]  I want to state for the record that I am not much of a drinker, and do not enjoy being drunk at all. That night's adventure was purely because I know from hard-won experience that there are only a few things that can kick me hard enough in the brain to get it out of a senseless rut. Since an ancient artifact oozing with dark magic wasn't readily available, cheap alcohol had to suffice.
-----------------------

It was the change in the sound of the crowd that alerted me. The smooth rumble stuttered and quieted ever so slightly, but it was enough to make my ears prick up, even after working my way through half of the jug.

I pulled down on one of the palm's fronds and peered out at the street. There was a disheveled griffin walking along the ragged edge of the market stalls with a nearly empty burlap sack slung across her back. Her expression was neutral and nonthreatening, but the way she carried herself and the jagged carving on her beak advertised her as an "ugly customer." Everycreature got out of her way as soon as they spotted her.

"You look like you need a drink," some idiot called out to her. She wasn't certain who had spoken at first, and as I was half hidden behind the palm, I had to lean out and wave to show her it had been me.

She froze when she recognized me. The last time she had seen me, I was lifting her trussed-up carcass out of Nebula's hold and tossing it into a cargo wagon.

"C'mon!" I encouraged her, waving the jug. "Grab another mug at the door over there! Tartarus, grab another jug! This one's half empty."

It took her several long moments to get moving, but then she strode over to the cafe's doorway. I floated over enough coins to pay for another jug of wine and set them down on the little shelf built onto the top of the bottom half of the door.

The griffin brought over the jug and another mug and put them down on the table, but she didn't sit down immediately.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

It was a fair question. It was a good question. Since I didn’t have an answer, I chose to ignore it, and I waved a hoof to vaguely encompass both her and the cushion across from me. "Sit down, tall-stuff. You need an excuse to drink?"

She shrugged and sat down.

I poured.

We drank.

"Flaming flight feathers!" the griffin cursed. "This stuff tastes like weasel snot!"

"Yup," I agreed. "And it's the expensive stuff!" I refilled our mugs. "But it'll do the job."

The griffin looked around again, no doubt trying to spot any of my shipmates. "What are you doing?" she asked again.

"I'm drinking with an ex-pirate," I explained patiently.

"I could kill you," she said. This griffin was a straight-forward sort of gal. I liked her.

"Yeah... no," I said, smiling. "And even if you somehow managed it… what then?"

She glared at me. I noticed that the lower edge of her upper beak had been filed into a series of points so that it sort of looked like fangs. Kind of cool, actually.

"I should be dead already," she grumbled, taking another swig of the palm wine.

I nodded. "Yeah, most places execute pirates as soon as they catch them. Did you know that in Equestria they turn them into stone? I dunno if that's worse, but it's reversible… mostly. Sometimes, relatives that want revenge will sneak out behind the hedge maze at night with sledgehammers and… oh sorry. Touchy subject?"

The griffin buried her beak in her mug and then held it out for a refill. "Why aren't I dead?"

"Didn't they explain that to you when they let you go?"

"They told me the rules, but that ain't the reason."

Smart bird. I waved my mug in the general direction of the Heights. "The rules are theirs, the reason is mine." I likewise indicated myself with a gesture, slopping a little bit of wine on my greatcoat. "I believe that everycreature deserves a second chance, and I made an agreement with the Council: I turn over the pirates I catch and they give them that chance."

"You can't be that stupid," she said flatly.

"Right again," I agreed.

She squinted at me and then took another drink. "No, I mean… a second chance? Sure, anybird would take an easy out from getting chopped, but what then?"

"Well… there are a lot of jobs on this island. Plenty of lugging boxes around at the ports and warehouses. You can fly, so you could spot for the fishing fleet, or you could ship out again."

"Yeah, right!" She looked like she wanted to spit, but I supposed that's hard to do for a beaked person.

I shrugged. "Better than getting your gizzard exteriorized."

She swallowed and she hadn't even taken a pull from her mug. "And how many pirates make use of that second chance?"

"Maybe one in a hundred," I admitted. "Most go back to robbing or stealing, and as soon as they do… thwickt! No third chances."

She stared at me wide-eyed and I realized I had drawn one of my short blades and thunked its edge into the table by way of demonstration. "Oops. Sorry about that," I said, attempting a sheepish smile that may have come across a lot more sharkish than I intended, judging by the way her pupils suddenly shrank. I levered the blade out of the wood and slid it back into its sheath.

She held her mug in both claws and lowered her head, staring into the thick liquid. "So why do it? Pirates are pirates. We go back to the old ways eventually, so why bother dancing around it?"

I filled my mug again and held out the jug. The griffin shook her head.

"Because that one in a hundred is worth the effort expended on all the rest. Pirates aren't all the same and this is the only easy way I've found to find the gems hidden in the manticore dung."

She finally drank. "You think I'll make it? Maybe ship out with some nice fat merchant captain who could stomach a face like this?" She savagely jabbed a primary feather at her scarred beak.

"I have no idea," I admitted. "But the point is, you could. And it's up to you." I thought for a moment. "You want a job? It'd be rougher than loafing around on some merchant vessel."

"I ain't afraid of rough."

I nodded. "Bodyguard work," I told her. "It's mostly intimidation, but you never know when things will go south. Your looks would be an asset in that profession. The 'quality' hereabouts are big on being seen with flashy muscle." 

"Huh. I might not mind that."

"Alright, then." I floated twenty or thirty coins out of my coat and set them down in front of her. "There's a guesthouse around the corner, half a block down on the left. It's nothing fancy, but it's clean. This should cover a week or so. I'll put the word out and I should have something for you in a couple of days."

She stared at the coins like they were red hot. "You're kidding."

"I'm drunk. Take advantage of me."

She shrugged, swung the sack off her back, and scooped the coins into it. "You're really going to let me flit off with your money? What if I just disappear?"

It was my turn to shrug. "I don't really care. I only care if you betray my trust by hurting some innocent."

"And if I do?"

I drained my mug, set it down on the table in front of her, and lit my horn. "You'll never make it to the execution block." The glass suddenly glowed brightly and slumped down into a puddle on the table. The heat of it blackened the wood and made little flames shoot out from underneath. Neither of us bothered to fan the smoke out of the way.

Her gaze lifted from the molten glass to my eyes, and she seemed to be searching my face for a very long moment while her tongue worried at one of the carved false-fangs on her beak. Finally, she looked down at the table again as she stood with what I imagined was all the delicacy she possessed. She hesitated and then held out her right claw curled into a fist. "Name's Grish."

I gave her a hoofbump and she turned and vanished into the night.

I shook both bottles; they were empty. Time to get back to my ship. I turned and patted the ceramic pot that held the little palm tree beside me. "Thanks for the backup, Ket!"

There was a flash of magical green fire and my third mate stood next to me. "How in Tartarus did you know it was me?" she demanded.

"The little gaps along the edge of the fronds? On these palms, they're rounded; yours were pointed. Plus, you still kinda smell of that gongo you were drinking outside of Zenobia's place. Y'know you shouldn't drink so much on shore leave right?"

"With all due respect, Captain…" she trailed off and stared over my shoulder. I turned to see that we were the focus of quite a large audience. I did a rough estimate and determined that the crowd was composed of approximately 63% eyeballs.

"Time to go?" I whispered out of the side of my mouth to Ket.

"Oh yeah," she replied.

I wasn't sufficiently unwise to attempt teleportation in my condition so we galloped for the nearest alleyway where I could shuck my coat off my wings, and then we flew back to Nebula. Didn't hit a single mooring tower on the way.

Rarity was waiting for us when we landed. I ignored her stink-eye and held out my coat. "You can get palm wine stains out, right?" She took the coat from me without a word and went below.

That night, I slept like a pegasus foal wrapped in summer clouds.


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