Rarity stared at the sky again. Just like in Corona, the moon slowly traveled across the sky, from one horizon to the other. Then, when it got to one horizon, it traveled back the way it came. In Corona, the day divided into morning, meridiem, and lowsun. Westward and eastward referred to which direction the sun was going, and ponies traditionally took sleeptime on eastward days. One segment of the week was made up of two days, and seven segments together made a week.
It all made sense, all felt organized and clear. This nightplace had ruined Rarity’s internal clock. Almost every Coronan owned a sundial. They were as much for decoration and status as anything, since one learned to tell the general time based on position and direction of the sun. She felt awkward asking Dash for the time every few minutes, waiting for Dash to pull out that ugly digital clock…
Rarity shook her head.
“Are you ok?” Dash asked.
“I suppose I am not.” They had been walking for a long time. Long enough for scattered trees to become a forest, and for the wide road to narrow into a street barely large enough for a cart.
Rarity sighed. “I suppose there is no point in ignoring it any longer. I must apologize to you for my behavior last sleeptime.”
Dash simply shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. And I mean that.”
Rarity searched for an appropriate response, and nothing came to mind.
The path wound through the forest for a long time. Chirps and hisses and other sounds from the forest’s foreign fauna wafted across the pathway.
The path widened slowly again. The trees remained thick and the animals remained loud, but they started to creep away from the road, leaving grass and room to breathe on either side. A cart could have comfortably run into a ditch, now, instead of scraping against branches and leaves.
Finally, they reached an opening in the forest. A city stretched out before them, medium-sized, but still ringed on every side by the forest. Every building possessed a squat, low profile, a rustic architectural style dripping with folksy charm. Rarity noticed a castle poking above the branches in the distance. An elaborately carved sign had been nailed into a tree next to the path: “Moonville.”
Rainbow Dash clapped her hooves. “Finally. Moonville means we’re only one city over. I thought the Everfree would never end.” Rainbow turned to Rarity. “If you want to find an inn, go ahead. I think this is the first place we’ve stopped at with more than one choice.”
“And where exactly are you going?”
“I’ve got a tiny errand to run.”
Rarity narrowed her eyes. “Is it perhaps related to a certain alcoholic beverage?”
Dash shrugged. “It’s a small business deal. You can’t expect me to go to the Nightscape and not pick some up.”
“Specialist, you are on assignment!” Rarity glanced around, lowered her voice.
Rainbow Dash smiled. “If you’re concerned for your safety, milady, I can give you a whistle.”
“This is dereliction of duty,” Rarity whispered, as loudly as possible.
“It’ll only take a minute.” Rainbow Dash started walking. “Besides, a little sightseeing might be good for ya.”
Rarity had been raised in a household free of cursing, swears, and off-color language. “A proper lady doesn’t have any need for vulgarities,” her mother had always told her. So she scuttled after Dash, and in lieu of any cussing, she made a self-satisfied mental note to dock Dash’s pay.
Dash’s destination turned out to be a wide, low building near the outskirts of town, on the border between Moonville and Everfree Forest.
Rainbow Dash stepped through the glass double doors, and a sign inside declared “Welcome to MCC!”
“Moonville Community College,” Dash replied to Rarity’s tilted ear.
Rarity opened her mouth, to ask questions along the lines of “why in the world are you purchasing fungale at a college?” and “that must be illegal, are you stupid or just reckless?” But a pair of students turned the corner, and Rarity clamped her mouth shut.
She followed Dash on a winding path through the hallways. Like most schools, everything looked outdated and due for replacement, but well-kempt. Rarity could hear occasional laughter or snippets of lectures from the classrooms they passed. A few students and staff roamed the hallways. No one paid her any attention.
They arrived at a wooden door, with a piece of notebook paper taped to the front: “Professor Applejack, Head of Botany and Floral Research Dept.”
Rainbow Dash knocked loudly.
“Yes, yes, what is it?” A bat-earth-pony poked her head out the door. She had the usual tufted ears and slit pupils of nightscape ponies, and her orange coat possessed the same muted, grayish palette typical of bat ponies.
Her eyes widened. “Rainbow Dash? So, they did not court martial you after all.”
“Not yet. Mind if we come in?”
“Of course, of course, please step inside, my dears.”
The office looked typical of most academic offices; slightly too small, slightly too full, cozy, outdated. Books and scattered plant specimens lined shelves all around the room, and a window peeked out above the desk, letting moonlight flood in.
“My my, Rainbow Dash. I would not have expected a ruffian such as yourself to have such a sophisticated traveling companion.”
“Ruffian, eh? I’m not the one selling illegal—”
“Ill-mannered, crass ruffian, I might add,” Applejack said. She turned to Rarity. “It is quite rude to not introduce one’s friends, you know.”
“Oh, uh, right.” Rainbow Dash gestured at Rarity. “Lady Rarity, MP. Let me introduce AJ, professor and gray market liquor dealer.”
Applejack glowered at Rainbow Dash. She then turned and curtsied to Rarity, her waistcoat scrunching with the motion. “A pleasure, milady.”
Rarity returned the curtsy. “Likewise, a pleasure.” She made some mental notes about Applejack. The accent had a few hitches and affectations in it. A country belle’s accent, but not as natural as it seemed. The curtsy had been performed accurately, but not quite as fluidly as it could have been. And of course, all this fell into the context of Applejack’s two sources of income.
“I have a few more papers to grade, but we can take care of your presumable business transaction at my home afterwards.” Applejack gestured to the door. “Feel free to have a look around the campus while you’re waiting.”
A significant wait later, Applejack led Rarity and Rainbow to her home on the outskirts of town. A large farm with an aging plantation house in the center.
“Forgive me again for the wait, my dears. It is finals season, and I have a lot of papers left to grade. Best to get as many as possible out of the way, so the stack is smaller for tomorrow.” Applejack trotted up the well-worn path. On either side of them, fields stretched for several acres, cotton plants wafting in the moonlit breeze. Earth ponies trotted in between the lanes, carrying bulky equipment that Rarity did not recognize.
Rarity lacked extensive knowledge of agriculture. The mechanics seemed the same as Coronan farming. Most plants had to be meticulously maintained and cared for in order to grow at night. Even in Corona, not everyone had the time or ability to cast shadows or adjust temperature in order to make plants grow.
Finally, they arrived at the house. Rarity headed for the door, but Applejack waved her away. “No, no, my dear. Our destination is around the back.”
Another trek later, Rarity found herself in front of an aging, but well-maintained barn. Applejack swung the door open, and Rarity nearly vomited. The smell oozing out of the place reminded her of a particular time that Sweetie Belle and her friends had jimmied open her liquor cabinet, and the sticky aftermath thereof. It also reminded her of those potatoes she had forgotten to throw out. Or perhaps it reminded her of one of Opal’s less pleasant expulsions onto her couch. It had the same quality as fine wine: the longer she stood there, the more layers revealed themselves to her.
Applejack and Rainbow Dash both took a deep whiff of the odor. “Ah yes, coming along nicely,” Applejack murmured.
“Bracing,” Rainbow Dash agreed.
Applejack reached into a coat pocket, pulled out a finely embroidered handkerchief. “Here you are, dear. I will concede it takes some getting used to.”
Rarity took the handkerchief, held it delicately up to her nose, and followed Applejack and Rainbow inside.
There were ponies in here too, mixing and adjusting and checking on things. Barrels sat everywhere, stacked and sideways and in the middle of being filled. Rarity thought she imagined a green haze filling the air, or a green glow poking out of some of the barrels, but surely such a notion…
“Now, before we go any further, there is the delicate matter of payment.”
“Oh, yeah, about that. This time I actually do want delivery. Everypony threw a hissy fit about me carrying it over the border myself last time.”
Applejack nodded. “I did warn you about that.”
Dash shrugged. “Whatever. What’s it gonna run me?”
“Let’s say, forty.”
“Thirty.”
Applejack chuckled at that. “This isn’t a negotiation, shug. But since you’re a repeat customer, I’ll do it for thirty-eight.”
“Done.” Rainbow Dash reached into a zippered pocket, and pulled out a hooful of gold squares. Rarity noted a few words and a string of numbers stamped on each one before AJ took them.
It made sense, of a sort. Rainbow Dash lacked the connections to get crescents, and Coronan pounds must be useless in the Nightscape.
Applejack pulled out a loupe from a pocket, looked at a few of the ingots. “Excellent.” She waved a hoof around the room. “Feel free to pick it out yourself, they should all be clearly labelled.”
At last they emerged from the barn, and the smell of untainted air came as a surprise to Rarity. How long did we spend in there, that I adjusted to such a disgusting odor?
Applejack smiled. “In honor of our continued business transactions, and you not being court-martialed yet, I insist you spend the cycle here. And of course, we’ll have to sample some fungale before you leave.”
Rarity had not lowered the handkerchief from her nose. From another noble, such an invitation would be the pinnacle of familiarity. To decline such an invitation would be social suicide. But despite Applejack’s professorship, family business, and accent, Rarity still could not place her position in the social ladder. And did she owe such a courtesy to a Nightscapist? Did Applejack owe it to her? Did the Nightscape have the same delicate social rules as the Empire?
I’ve done it again.
Rainbow Dash turned to Rarity, raised an eyebrow.
Rarity curtsied. “We would be delighted. Such a show of hospitality from somepony we barely know is quite a mark of trust.”
Applejack smiled. “Excellent! Follow me to the house, and I shall have your rooms prepared.” She pulled a pocketwatch out of her waistcoat. “And impeccable timing at that. It is almost time for lunch.”