Luna is a Harsh Mistress

by Starscribe


Chapter 33: Secret Luxury

Silver Star should’ve been able to tell the story of Moonrise in exhaustive detail. This immortal visitor from the past would see the folly in hiding, return to the princess, and mention his name in gratitude. He’d finally get his color, finally get the chance to study and excel as he knew he could.

Unfortunately for Magpie, his knowledge of history consisted of “the things he’d overheard.” 

“That’s when Lord Commander Steel Wing expanded the army in preparation for invasion,” he explained proudly, about an hour after he’d begun. At least now it wasn’t all guesses and hearsay. Plenty of ponies had been alive for Steel Wing. “That meant the colors changed. Anypony with military skills got darker, and the ones who couldn’t fight well got lighter.

“When Regent Rockshanks took over, he just… I don’t really understand exactly, but… before him, there were two members of the council left. He took their colors for himself, and that’s when he became the regent. I don’t… really remember it too well, but…” 

Magpie might be a pretty good thief, but she was also a good listener. Every time he looked up, she was feet away, watching him intently. It was hard to think of a pony only half his height as an ancient, powerful killing machine, instead of another piece of street-trash. The mares had better prospects than the stallions, but… from what he’d heard, there were plenty who chose that life who took a long walk on a cold night. So there was nothing of envy there.

“There was somewhere… inside, before the Regent. A building somewhere. My father would… read to me, late into the night.”

He paused for the indignance, waiting for the shouts and swears other street-trash might give him. A White who could read? Clearly absurd!

But Magpie nodded. “Shouldn’t you be with him now, instead of sneaking around in the freezing cold?”

He looked away. “Rockshanks has been all about… cleaning up Moonrise. Anypony who isn’t part of the invasion force in one way or another…” He shook his head. “Well, it used to be there were lots of creatures who lived outside everything. I think I’m the… descendant of one of the scholars and merchants who traveled with the princess, long ago.”

Magpie reached over, settling a hoof on his shoulder. She didn’t say anything about the obvious change of subject. She was even polite enough not to mention that he was crying. “Hey, kid. I’m sure you are. The magic you did getting down here, that’s buckin’ impressive. And stars above only know how you’re not frozen right now in that jacket.”

She turned away, squeaking in frustration. “Sounds like things really caught on fire since I left. Back then, there was this pony, Aminon… sounds kinda like Rockshanks is like him. He wanted to force everypony in Moonrise to swear to Nightmare, so the city wouldn’t need air or food or water to survive.”

Then she twitched, glancing back at the oven. “Hold on a minute, kid. If this Regent is having everypony march around and pretend like they’re ever going back to Equestria, how the buck is this place still alive? Are you like… one of the last survivors?”

He shook his head. “My dad said there was… there used to be enough heat for everypony. All the vents worked, not just the ones in the Skytower and a few shelters. Everypony got enough food. But there isn’t as much to go around anymore.”

Her expression grew darker. “I see what you’re saying. He’s running the place into the ground.” Then she flopped back onto the couch, reclining comfortably there. She covered up the broken remnant of her wing, obviously self-conscious. “Well, good thing it’s not my home. I wouldn’t stand for that for a second.”

“Yeah?” He wiped the last of his tears with the back of a leg, rising from the stolen couch. “What would you do? Steal the Regent away? One of the generals would just take his place. That’s why they have a chain of command.”

She groaned. “You know I’m an assassin, right?” She raised her good wing. “Wait, before you ask. No, I’m not going to kill him for you. I’m basically the worst Voidseeker there ever was. You know what it’s like when you’re losing a war, and you get so desperate for recruits that you’ll take almost anypony?”

He only stared, uncomprehending. 

“Well, that’s me. Magpie. I never really got the hang of the murdering thing, but I’m… pretty much the sneakiest bat there was.” She gestured all around the cavern. “As you can see. Nopony would’ve ever found me down here, if it wasn’t for some weird unicorn who didn’t get cold.”

“Could you steal spellbooks?” he asked. He wasn’t sure where the question even came from—but he’d asked, and he couldn’t take it back.

But instead of being horrified at his audacity, she only rolled her eyes. “Can I steal… books? As in, the things small enough to carry in a satchel? The bundles of paper that can’t move or get away from me? Gee, I wonder. Not sure if a master thief could manage that.”

He advanced on her, no longer caring about how close he got to that horribly injured wing. “Could you steal one for me? I don’t even really care which one. But we don’t get any books out here, and… figuring everything out on my own is really hard.”

She tilted her head slightly to one side. “Just ‘a book’? Nothing in particular you’re looking for? You’re looking at the only bat on this damn moon who can read runes, kid. Have to read ‘em to steal ‘em, that’s what they say.”

“I want to know how to do the air-shell,” he said. “There’s not a bucking chance I’ll ever get my hooves on a real one. But the magic… my dad said that used to be the only way. If I knew the shell, I could go wherever I wanted. Maybe even… borrow some old clothes, and walk to the Dustmine. Nopony’s going to question a unicorn that powerful.”

Magpie was silent for a long moment, looking him over. “What’s in it for me?”

Her accent might be strange, but maybe she knew the language of the streets after all. It was almost amazing to Silver he’d made it this far. Sharing two meals worth of food was already a small miracle.

This is the day that everything changes for you, Silver.

“I could, uh…” His mind spun, and he could practically see the bat getting bored with him. More disappointed by the second the longer he waited. What could he do worthy of the exchange? Only one thing came to mind. “Fix your wing!” he finally blurted.

That got her attention. Magpie snapped alert, facing him directly now. “You serious?” There was no hesitation, no sensation of magic. Just a little puff of shadow, and suddenly she was looming over him. “If you lie to me kid, I’ll cut those fries out of your gut and put them back on the stove. See if I don’t.”

“I’m serious!” he said. “B-but I… I’m not talking about magically regrowing things. I’m… I don’t really get medical magic. But we could make something! The First Commander was a cripple, but he got his legs back thanks to a machine. My job would be way easier. With a thief to steal all the parts… how hard could it be?”

Magpie spun away from him again, muttering to herself. She spoke so quickly that he couldn’t tell the words apart very well. The tone of it was obvious, even if what she said was less so. But just as quickly as she’d started, she reappeared in front of him, sticking a hoof towards him. She was so tiny and adorable, squished without seeming deformed. Had ponies really looked like that once? “Swear to me, kid. Swear before the Nightmare older than the stars that you’ll make me a wing if I help you.”

What did he have to lose? The ancient monster could murder me and leave me for dead. 

The hoof hung in the air in front of him for a moment, somehow unaffected by the electric lantern. There was magic here, maybe evil magic. He probably shouldn’t.

Silver met her hoof. “I swear.” 

The darkness around her hoof puffed away like smoke. He expected to feel something terrible—bounds lashing down against his soul, or strange mind control. But there was nothing at all.

Magpie squeaked in frustration, shaking her hoof out and stomping angrily. “Okay, so… maybe I don’t remember how to make dream-oaths anymore. Guess it’s an old-fashioned promise. Do what you say, or I’ll…” She waved her hoof vaguely, leaving a trail of darkness behind it. “I dunno. What’s the worst way to die you can imagine? I’ll do that. And I’ll make it take, like… days or whatever.”

He fought back a laugh. Between her vague threat and diminutive frame, it was hard to take anything she said seriously. He managed this time. The promise of a spellbook of his own was too strong to resist. “Sounds fair. You steal spellbooks, and I’ll make you a fake wing.”

How hard could it be?


For the rest of that night, Silver read.

Even for him it probably wouldn’t have been that hard to steal a few spellbooks. If he was willing to put up with some ancient, crumbling books that might’ve found their way into the single yellow library. Without heating, that place was probably an abandoned, icy waste until the day returned.

But Magpie didn’t bring him ancient crumbling wrecks, she returned with fine embossed covers, and pages still warm from the shelves they’d been borrowed from. Probably she’d stolen them from the Arcanium itself. If he got caught doing that, he’d be out on the surface before he could blink. But Magpie was a Black—at least in theory. Only the princess herself could punish her.

I wonder what would happen if she told the Regent to step down. He’s Green, and she’s Black. Would he have to do it?

He didn’t waste any time asking, there were far more important things to do. He had a week to read as much as he wanted.

“That’s as many as you get,” Magpie said, as the first hints of warmth finally began to drift down through the little crack. “If I borrow any more, they’re going to start putting up spells to stop me. They wouldn’t catch me, but they’d make my life more difficult. Books for the weird unicorn aren’t worth that kind of risk.”

“Not sure why you’re worried,” he said, snapping a cover closed. “They aren’t going to do anything to you. Only the princess has authority over a Black.”

She laughed. “Yeah, because we’ve been so loyal to the princess for the last few centuries. I’m sure she’ll welcome me with open wings. ‘Let’s just look the other way and forget about the part where you almost murdered my pet lord commander, you can come back. Have some gold and prostitutes!’” She stuck out her tongue. “Please. This is Nightmare Moon we’re talking about. Vindictive, ruthless, cruel.”

“I…” He winced. It hurt to hear such criticism of the one pony he considered above petty weakness. The princess was supposed to be the perfect ruler. She didn’t want her ponies to suffer the way Rockshanks made them. He was just full of guile, blinding her to the truth. That was why no ordinary ponies could ever get an audience with her. If she discovered his deception, then he’d be killed, and Moonrise would be saved. 

“You would know better than me,” he said instead. “I assume you actually know her. I’ve never met, obviously. Seeing as… I’m nobody.”

“Not so sure about that one either, kid.” She hopped onto the chair beside him, then onto the table. It was the only way for her to be taller than he was, even if it looked silly. “I can tell you how many unicorns could do books like this back in Equestria. It was a small number. And teleporting around—that’s deep magic. Most kids who play with that stuff end up as a red smear, and their little siblings learn to be smarter. But you do it like it’s nothing.”

“Not nothing,” he corrected. “There are… there’s something waiting. I feel like eventually it’s going to get a good look at me… come and kill me. All those eyes, so full of hatred.”

“Could be the Nightmare you’re seeing,” Magpie said absently. “It’s… not very nice. Anything that doesn’t submit to it is an enemy. But it hates Moonrise, ever since Iron Quill turned it down and wouldn’t make everypony into its children. It probably would’ve destroyed Moonrise already, except it’s afraid of losing the princess. It has to be clever… subtle.”

“You’re just telling me that,” he said flatly. “I might not have gone to school, but… everybody knows the Voidseekers walk with Nightmare. Isn’t that what gives you your immortality? Your… teleportation powers? Your dreamwalking?”

“Yeah,” she answered, sliding back off the table and looking awkwardly away from him. “I’m pretty sure, anyway. I think it just stopped caring about me once I busted my wing. I haven’t felt it trying to force me… at all, since you got here.” She held out her hideously broken wing, right down to the little scraps of rotten flesh hanging from it. “Now, how’s about fixing this? Where’s the magic of that?”

He slid the book back into the stack. “It’ll have to wait until next night. It’s lunar morning. I have to show up at my work shift, or… or I’ll be marked as a deserter. I’ll never get rations ever again.”

He made his way to the center of the apartment, directly under the crack. That’s when Magpie appeared in front of him, pushing him back with a hoof. “How about buck that, kid. You’re not going to dig a bucking hole with power and smarts like yours. You sit right back down and start building. We made a promise.”

“And I plan on keeping it.” Despite her size, he was the one to retreat. Not just from that horrible-looking wing, but the strength he knew she had. She was a Voidseeker—stronger than an earth pony, with the confidence of a manticore. “But if I don’t show up to work, I won’t get to eat. I’m not magic like you—if I don’t eat, I die. If I don’t breathe, I die. If I don’t drink… you get the idea.”

“So what?” She vanished from beside him in a little puff of shadow, appearing on the far side of the room. Beside the strange metal box she almost never opened. Now she did, revealing a lit interior and shelves of… vegetables?

He turned, mouth hanging open. Cabbage, apples, carrots, even a bucking orange. Somehow they looked fresh, or nearly fresh, even if the air wafting out from inside actually seemed warmer than the cavern right now. “I took this stuff because it felt… sentimental. But I don’t have to eat. What do they give you… march-wraps?”

“Gruel,” he corrected. “Watery wheat… crap. I think it’s exactly the right amount to stop us from starving.”

“Yeah, buck that.” She leaned in, biting the apple and tossing it to him. He caught it in his magic, holding it close and inspecting the strange skin. He’d had a slice of one of these, long ago. But a whole thing, just for him?

In that moment, it no longer mattered what might happen when the job was over. Buck that life. I’m never going back. He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. It was crisp and amazingly sweet, enough that his eyes started to water. Or maybe that was tears.

“You’ve convinced me,” he said. “But it’s gonna be tricky coming and going from this place… for me, anyway. I can just about make it down and up through the crack. If somepony catches me in that building, they’ll throw me in the stocks for breaking and entering.”

“Well that’s bucking stupid.” She snapped her strange cold-shelf closed, and the light from inside went out again. “Who do I have to kill to make that stop?”

The Regent. He banished that thought before it could fester. No anger was worse than the impotent, helpless kind. He could change his life, that was a good goal. Changing the whole world was too far. “Nopony,” he said instead. “But I don’t have a pin. Ranks, err… everypony needs them. They’re necklaces with a bit of colored metal. Everypony but whites get them. Which is why I don’t, uh… I don’t have one.”

“Can you sketch it for me?” she asked. “I’ll find one, and you can use the communal bathroom up there instead of stinking up my place. No offense or anything, but I’m not that excited to relive being alive. Some things are better off in the past.”

“Sure.” He made his way over to the table, where he’d been sketching out a few spells using what he’d learned. He took the scrap pencil and a piece of paper, and recreated the necklace. Not his best work, but it was mostly for speed. Finally he offered it to her. “Don’t take it from anypony wearing one,” he said. “Yellows aren’t much better off than whites. If you take it from one of them, you might as well kill them too, because they’ll die. Better to take it from storage, in the Skytower. I don’t know where they’re kept.”

“Neither do I,” she said, taking the drawing and tucking it under her one good wing. “But I’m going to find out.”

It took her less than an hour to return, and smack the little necklace onto the book he was reading. “There,” Magpie said. “One stupid rank pin, complete with not being stolen from a pony. Storage room for these wasn’t that safe. Not a single intrusion spell on the inside, and they leave the lights off. You could’ve given me something harder to do.”

Silver touched the edge of the necklace with a hoof, feeling the little yellow triangle on the end. The key to an assigned seat in a shelter, instead of jostling for floor. The key to a slice of bread and vegetables on holidays.

Also an execution, if anyone who knew him ever saw him wearing this. But Moonrise was a bigger city than ever. He could re-invent himself. 

“Now, more important things,” she went on. “Time for my buckin’ wing.”