Dear Trixie,
I have been able to recover the copied spellbook that I gave you originally; it was sitting in our rail station’s lost and found, thankfully intact. Having had a chance to read it, I can see now what, precisely, you meant by poor translations and mislabeling. I am fluent in Zebra, but I admit to having been in something of a rush to get underway to Hauptstadt der Greifen when I sent it along to you, and so I did not have time to do any but the most cursory of reviews.
Rest assured that Regal Tome, Vast Volumes, and Glitter Scrolls will not soon be working in the royal library, or indeed in Canterlot, again, though on that note I believe that we must have a discussion in the near future concerning the proper response to dealing with one’s problems, regardless of one’s emotional commitment to them –
“I think that our response was entirely proper,” Trixie said.
“Hang on, let me finish…” Lyra insisted.
– however, I find myself incapable of becoming truly angry with you at the moment, given the personal appeal and testimony I have received from Miss Heartstrings concerning your conduct and efforts to see her show through, no matter the cost to yourself. If somepony had described this situation to me as soon as three months ago, I would have not believed them. Your decision to remain in Ponyville was clearly for the best, and I believe you are becoming a better pony because of it.
Now, as to Miss Heartstrings’ inquiries as to what she turned into. The zebra word, binadamu, defies translation into Equestrian – much as how we would have a difficult time properly translating ‘bear’ into their tongue beyond simply describing the creature. Based on your description and rough sketch, however, I would posit that Miss Heartstrings was transformed not into a bear as she believed –
“I didn’t think I was a bear, I just figured I might as well be a bear as long as we didn’t have anything else to call me,” Lyra objected.
“Bears have tails, and fur, and muzzles,” Trixie pointed out. “And are taller.”
“Not all of them.
“Most of them.”
– but rather a simian, specifically some form of hominan, although what specific species, I am uncertain based on your description. Unfortunately I can’t say much more than that – they were never very common even in Zebrica, and to be completely honest I had thought them to have died out some time ago. Evidently the zebras retain some knowledge of their existence, however – perhaps there are pockets of the species yet existent in the Zebrica? Certainly there are cryptozoologists who will be delighted to hear that news and will be eager to journey there, provided that relations with the zebra nations can be normalized.
In any event, Trixie, I think I will leave the examination of zebra magic in different hooves. After your experience last week, I think you have earned a reprieve.
Your Princess and Teacher,
– Luna
“Hominan,” Lyra said, wrapping her tongue around the word. “Hominan. Weird.”
“From what Luna wrote, I think it’s just describing the creatures in general, but then there are specific sub-groups,” Trixie said. “Like with ponies, or deer.”
It had been a week since Lyra’s Worst Day Ever, as it was now officially titled in her mind, even if objectively she knew that there was at least one day in her life that was worse: the most recent Longest Night, when Corona had returned and kidnapped, among other ponies, Bon Bon. That day was kind of just terrible for the whole world, though, whereas a week ago had been specifically bad for her above everypony else.
The two of them were sitting in Trixie’s kitchen; or rather, Lyra was sitting, while Trixie was arranging a magic circle in the floor, albeit one much smaller than the ones she had constructed for Lyra. Sitting in the center of the magic circle was a rooster – the former hen of Fluttershy’s that Trixie had stolen, specifically. It was in a magical slumber once again. Fluttershy had raised no objections to the rooster’s theft, at least none that Trixie had heard from either Ditzy Doo or Rainbow Dash (the latter, most certainly, would have broken through Trixie’s once-again-repaired front window if she had known what Trixie had done), but after spending a week with the thing before considering herself brave enough to try another zebra spell, she was more than eager to get rid of the violent, smelly, ravenous bird. She simply supposed that it would only be proper to return him (soon to be her) in the same state and gender that she had acquired the once and future hen in.
“So,” Trixie asked, as she finished setting up the magic circle and looked to Lyra. “Have you been reaping the rewards of last week? Does the Majestic and Lovely Lyra Heartstrings have ponies knocking down her door offering her jobs?”
“No,” Lyra said, “but just plain Lyra has a few shows scheduled.”
Trixie grimaced. “‘Just plain Lyra.’ Really? Where’s the stage presence? The memorability? The pomp?”
Lyra frowned. “My music is supposed to be able to speak for itself.”
“Sure. It’s great. Really, it is. But a little showmareship never hurt anypony. Play yourself up! Your music is basically a product that you’re trying to sell, and as any salespony will tell you, you need to advertise it well!”
Lyra frowned as she tried to piece through what she’d just heard. “So…” she said, “I should…dress like you.”
“Non!” Trixie objected, rearing up on her hind legs and throwing her front legs wide. “You should dress like the Majestic and Lovely Lyra Heartstrings!” Her horn glowed, and a few small, quiet illusory fireworks were set off.
Lyra raised an eyebrow. “Yeah…but I’m not doing this, I didn’t decide to become a musician, for the money.”
Trixie dropped to all four legs again, rolling her eyes as she turned back to the rooster. “Tell me about it…I can’t believe you’re not getting paid for that show…”
Lyra opened her mouth to argue the point, but then thought better of it. Trixie just seemed incapable of wrapping her mind around the idea that Lyra made plenty of money – actually she was fairly certain that by the end of the year, she’d have made more money from shows and concerts and even just informal gigs, then Trixie made from her stipend as a Representative of the Night Court. For some reason, though, she felt it would probably be a good idea to just bite the bit and not tell Trixie that, and instead let Trixie continue under her delusion that Lyra was in need of financial assistance, or at least marketing assistance.
“Okay,” Trixie said. “Now then, watch in awe as I turn this rooster back into a hen! See, that’s how you’re supposed to…” Trixie turned around to look at Lyra, but then noticed that Lyra wasn’t behind her anymore. Instead, Lyra was outside, in Trixie’s back garden, looking in but having put the glass-and-wooden door between herself and the zebra spell.
“Carry on,” Lyra insisted from the other side of the door.
Trixie sighed. This was going to put a damper on her plans to have Lyra help her with her magic show for the Eventime…