The trip took quite some time. Shadington was situated on the other side of the Everfree forest from Canterlot and the unpredictable weather eliminated the possibility of air-travel while land transports, such as trains and carriages, were forced to take a long road around the broad wilderness.
The train arrived in Balefast right before noon and Blackwing had had just enough time to get from the train station to the harbor. The city was situated by the estuary of the river Nagan and Shadington was a small inland port upriver. The only transport was a steamboat that plied from Balefast to Shadington twice a week and if missed, would cause a terrible delay for any traveler heading to Shadington. Luckily, Blackwing managed to reach the boat just before it departed.
As the steamboat plodded up the river, Blackwing observed, as mile after mile passed, the landscape was becoming less and less civilized. The river waters were calm and the sky was heavily clouded all the time, but not a single drop of rain had fallen. There were only a couple stops along the river, in small villages. The ship’s crew would unload some supplies for the local stores, passengers got off, but nopony boarded. After the last stop before Shadington, the scenery got utterly savage, just forests and meadows by the river. A land of perfect refuge for a rogue wizard, one would think.
It had long been dark by the time the steamboat reached its destination. Blackwing was the only passenger left at the Shadington stop. He trotted down the gangway with saddlebags and a cape on his back. Blackwing left the docks and started walking the empty streets of the town. It appeared that almost everypony in town was asleep (as they should be by this hour). The only exception being a small pub near the port; a sign with its name, “Rainbow’s End,” hung above the entrance, but the appearance of the building and the sounds coming out of it were some of the last things one would associate with rainbows.
Somepony here has to know where I can rent a room for the night.
Blackwing headed towards the entrance, but before he could reach it, the door was thrown open by the flying body of a chubby earth pony with a moustache. He had a black eye and some bruises all over his body. He landed before the shocked pegasus, and while he tried to get up, another figure showed up in the door. It was another earth pony, bigger than any other stallion Blackwing had ever seen. He was brown-coated, with an orange mane and tail. He looked furious, with clenched teeth and eyes escaping their orbits.
“RUN WHILE YOU CAN!” He roared at the pony with a moustache, who got up in a hurry and limped away as fast as he could towards the docks.
Blackwing stared at the large pony, terrified. He had seen many muscular ponies in the palace guard and he wasn’t small himself, but this guy was like a mountain composed of muscles and wrath.
“What are you lookin’ at?!” The huge stallion yelled at Blackwing, looking at him with those crazy eyes.
“Nothing!” Blackwing was ready to run for his life, but the big earth pony just turned around and walked back into the bar. He hesitated for a few seconds and finally peeked through the open door.
“Call the authorities if you have to Full Glass, I’m ready to take the responsibility for my actions.” The big pony approached the barkeeper.
“Nah,” Full Glass said as he polished a glass. He was an almost completely bald unicorn with sideburns and a pale blue, nearly grey coat. He didn’t seem moved by the scene at all, he wasn’t even looking at the giant in front of him. “The guy had it comin’.”
“Damn sure, he did!” The big earth pony, still shaking with anger, said as he sat by the bar. “No matter what, nopony insults me sister!”
“Alright, enough Tank. I feel for ya, but calm down,” The barkeeper said slowly, his gaze on the dirty glass he was hustling with. “You’re scaring the customers.”
The stallion shrugged but didn’t say another word and just returned to his drink in silence. Blackwing slowly entered the pub and quietly closed the door behind him. He still wanted to ask the barkeeper a few questions, especially about accommodations, but that could wait for a moment. He sat at a table situated in a shady corner, as far as possible from the one called ‘Tank’.
Maybe he’ll leave...
Blackwing ordered a glass of cider and waited patiently. Unfortunately, after half an hour, nothing changed and he began to gather all his courage to approach the bar. But after a quarter more, the ‘Tank’ finally moved. He stood up, and started walking towards the shady corner.
Not good.
Blackwing's eyes darted about the room, looking for escape routes, but the big earth pony blocked the way to the only exit. He was clearly heading towards Blackwing’s table and nowhere else.
That’s it - I’m fried.
The Tank stopped by the table.
“Sup.”
“Hi there.”
“Hope you wouldn’t mind if I bought ya a drink, huh?” Tank asked a bit timidly. Blackwing stared at him blankly for a second.
“Sure, why not?”
“Full Glass! Get us two pints of cider, would ya?” The big pony shouted at the bar and sat by Blackwing’s table. “Name’s Tankard, or Tank, for short.”
“Blackwing.” The pegasus presented himself, still shocked. Tankard appeared completely different, from before. His eyes were back to normal and Blackwing could notice that the irises were honey-colored. Tankard's voice was deep and resonating, but also calm and somewhat warm. His cutie mark reflected his name quite literally – a wooden tankard with rich foam on top. It wouldn’t have surprised Blackwing if Tank had earned it in this very local.
“Listen... I wanted to apologize for yelling at you. I was really angry at that other guy. But you probably noticed that.” Tankard smiled faintly at him.
“Yeah.” Blackwing chuckled slightly as Full Glass brought them their drinks.
“Thanks, that’s the last glass and I’m goin’ home, promise,” Tank addressed the barkeeper.
“Yeah, whatever.” Full Glass shrugged and headed towards the bar.
“Where was I?” Tank took a big sip of cider. “The tool had too many drinks and had gotten rowdy. He began taunting me, but I ignored him for about an hour or so. Then he started to say bad things about me little sis’, Coldie. That was too much.” He looked down at the table. “Just got over me head, that’s all. I apologize.”
“It’s ok,” Blackwing said. He felt sorry for the big guy.
“Really? We’re cool?” Tankard brightened up.
“We’re cool.” Blackwing gave him smile to match his words.
“Grand!” Tankard shouted as a wide grin crossed his face. “’Cuz you know, you look like a newcomer. We don’t get many guests in Shadington, just travellin’ merchants from Balefast once in a while. I wouldn’t forgive meself if I scared you off; you seem to be pure nice lad. Say, what dragged you to this Celaystia-forsaken place anyhow?”
“I’m here on a research visit from the Royal University of Canterlot.” The academic work was the usual cover Blackwing used; he even had some legitimate papers to prove his membership in the Royal Academy of Science and Culture.
“Whoa!” Tankard seemed really impressed. “We’ve never had anypony from the capital travellin’ round these parts, can tell you that. And what are you researchin'?”
“The history of the area,” Blackwing explained.
“Well, the town sure is old...” Tank rubbed a hoof against his forehead. “I’d like to help ya somehow, but I dunno much ‘bout Shadington’s history to tell you the truth.”
Blackwing hesitated for a second. “Hey, if you wanna help, there’s one thing–”
“Yes?”
“Well, I’ll be staying at least a few days in Shadington and I need a place to stay. Could you point me in a direction of an inn or something like that?” Blackwing asked, hopeful that Tank could point him in the right direction. “It’s already late and I don’t want to spend the rest of the night wandering around the town in a search of a room for rent.”
“As I told ya before, we don’t get many visitors ‘round here,” Tankard answered with a concerned expression on his face. “We don’t have no inn or anythin’... hey I got an idea!” He suddenly brightened up and smiled. “You could stay at our place! We’ve got an empty room – you’re ok with camp-beds right? I’ll take one out of the basement for you.”
“Wow, that’s really nice of you,” Blackwing said, perplexed at the situation, “but I don’t want to impose.”
“Ah, come on. It’s not like you have much of a choice,” Tank said excitedly. “Let us show you that we’ve got some hospitality in Shadington.”
Tank was right, he didn’t have any other options. He smiled at the big earth pony.
“Thanks. That’s very kind of you.”
-----
Tankard’s place wasn’t very far and soon they reached their destination. It was a small, two-storey house, built of grey granite blocks; its facade sparsely covered with ivy.
Cider made the big earth pony very talkative and they were (or rather he was) chatting all the way from “Rainbow’s End”.
“...And you’ll meet Coldie. She’s a fine young mare, I tell ya – but hey, don’t try anything!” he said as he stopped to give Blackwing a warning look. “Where was I? Ah, and she loves guests and makes class pies and mighty cider... Aye, here we are.” Tank started digging through his vest’s pockets, as the two approached the door. “Aw golly! I forgot me keys.”
He sighed and knocked shyly on the door. Nothing happened, so he tried once more, a bit louder.
“Who’s makin’ such an awful racket?! TANKARD IS THAT YOU?!” They heard an annoyed yell from inside. “For Celayshtia’s sake! If ya forgot yer keys again, I shwear, I’ll kick the hay outta ya!”
Tankard gulped loudly, while the pony behind the door hustled with the door lock.
“Hi sis’,” he said with a nervous smile when she opened the door. A yellow-coated mare with a short, dark-red mane and tail, Coldie was about the half size of her brother. She was wearing a nightgown, her mane was ruffled, and her angry expression reminded Blackwing of Tankard when he'd seen him the first time. However, it changed when she noticed that her brother wasn’t alone.
“And who is that, if I might ask?” she asked as she pulled her nightgown closer to her body, a blush flowing across her face. That and the change in her speaking pattern appeared most amusing for Blackwing.
“Um hello. I’m Blackwing and–” Blackwing thought it would be polite to present himself, but Tankard interrupted him.
“He’ll be our guest! Hope ya don’t mind?” He grinned at his sister.
“And I’m Cold Pint, nice to meet you,” she addressed Blackwing. “Please, come in. Both of you...” she added as she threw a scowl at her brother.
They entered a big dining room which was dark, save for a few faintly glowing pieces of coal in the fireplace. Cold Pint lit some candles on a big chandelier to provide more light.
“Blackwing is from Canterlot! He came to Shadington just this evening and–”
“Did you ask your guest if he's had anything to eat Tank?” Coldie asked her brother who shook his head. “You should be ashamed, it’s an awfully long way from Canterlot and he must be starving. There's some broccoli soup if you want it.”
“Thank you, but I’m not hungry,” Blackwing replied. He had enough dry food rations with him to survive for a week as well as sandwiches that his mother had made him for the trip. “Besides, I don’t want to impose myself too much and it’s already very late.”
“Ok then... you can sleep in the loft. Upstairs, door to the left,” Coldie informed him as she tried to suppress a big yawn. “Tank will bring you a folded bed and some bedding. Goodnight.”
“Thank you and goodnight.” As Blackwing walked upstairs, he heard part of the whispered conversation that continued between the siblings.
“What are you thinking Tank?! Bringin’ guests home at such an ungodly hour?”
“T’was already late when he walked into the pub. First I was kinda rude to him and then I tried to make up for it...”
Blackwing entered the loft. It was large, but rather empty; just filled with some boxes, crates, and dust. The loft's windows where wide, just perfect for a pegasus to fly in and out and they overlooked the backyard and the edge of the Everfree forest just beyond that. He put down his saddlebags by the door which apparently woke up Cameron, who slowly crawled out. The chameleon yawned, stretched his legs, and then took a look around. He wasn’t impressed by his surroundings, to say the least, and gave Blackwing a disappointed look.
“Well don’t get too excited,” Blackwing grumbled to his pet.
Soon, they heard a rumble on the stairs and a few seconds later Tank entered the room with a camp-bed, some blankets, and a pillow. Cameron disappeared at the noise, adapting to the floor pattern, but Tank probably wouldn’t have spotted him anyways in the dark loft.
“Here’s somethin’ for yer shakedown,” Tankard said as he placed everything on the floor. “We’re gettin’ up early, but you can sleep in all ya want. The travel must’ve been tirin’. G’night sham.”
“Good night.”
-----
“So you’re saying that prophetic dreams exist?”
“Yes.”
“But... How is that possible? Dreams are created by our minds, our imagination. They cannot show us future events we do not anticipate.”
“There are powers in this universe that are beyond our comprehension. One such force has especially left its mark throughout the history of ponykind. It is usually referred to as ‘destiny’.”
-----
Blackwing heard a thunderous roar and turned around to find himself face to faces with a Cerberus. Its middle head was a lot bigger than the other two and it was trying to reach him with its jaws, but luckily for him, the other two heads attacked it. The monster was fighting itself and Blackwing just stared at it, frozen in shock. As he watched the terrifying display, he heard the voice of a mare behind him.
“Come, quickly!”
He turned in the direction of the voice and saw a shadowy, translucent figure as she ran through an open door leading to some room which, he could’ve sworn, wasn’t there a few seconds before. A quick gaze back to the Cerberus showed that its middle head was winning the struggle against the other two, so Blackwing decided to follow after the shadowy mare.
He ran through the door, but there was nopony inside. He found himself inside an empty, hexagonal room. The only things in there were five big, brass levers placed on five of the walls and a huge hexagonal chandelier lightning up the room. Blackwing gazed back out the door; the monster outside still fought amongst itself, but it was also slowly getting closer to the door. He pulled one of the levers and heard a noise outside. When he turned around Blackwing noticed that a massive brass grate appeared to the left of the monster. He pulled another lever and another grate materialized behind the Cerberus.
However, a few seconds later the first lever started to slowly return to its former position and one of the grates slowly moved down. The monster roared louder and Blackwing started pulling the levers quickly, running from one to another as the grates appeared respectively to the left, right, behind and above the Cerberus, creating a massive cage.
However, as he approached the last lever to complete the cage, the chandelier suddenly broke free from the ceiling and fell down to the floor right in front of him and immediately caught fire. He hesitated for a second and jumped through the flames to reach the lever. Before he could touch the handle, he woke up.
Blackwing took a look around the room as he scratched the winged crescent moon (his cutie mark) on his flank. The sun poured in through the window which showed a beautiful, sunny morning in Shadington. Cam scratched his back and yawned as he lay on the windowsill.
Blackwing rubbed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath. He still remembered the dream; exceptionally accurately, every little detail.
Oh no. Not this...
He knew all too well what that was, the symptoms were obvious. A prophetic dream. A ‘touch’ of destiny. He'd read and heard a lot about such dreams and visions, especially from Luna, the mistress of the dream realm herself. And according to the princess, even she had no control over these kinds of dreams.
When your daily job was finding arcane artifacts, visiting forgotten ruins and reading ancient tomes, such things are bound to happen sooner or later. He knew that, but still had foolishly hoped that maybe – just maybe – it wouldn't happen to him.
Because history shows that when a destiny ‘touches’ somepony like that, among other things, it usually means one thing.
Trouble.
With a deep sigh, he reached for his saddlebags and grabbed a quill, an inkwell, and a rolled piece of parchment wrapped with a dark blue ribbon.
-----
It was nearly noon and Cold Pint bustled around the kitchen. Not that she had to – her brother wouldn’t be back from work for several hours – she just enjoyed it. The night before she’d been slightly upset with Tankard for bringing a guest that late, but after a good night sleep her mood had completely changed. Now the young mare was baking a cake to celebrate a visit of an important pony from Canterlot.
She heard steps on the stairs and soon the pegasus stallion entered the kitchen.
“Oh, hello there. Did you sleep well?” Coldie asked as she smiled at him. “I’ll make you some oatmeal.”
This time, her mane and tail were neatly combed; a hair band on her head and a ribbon on her tail matched the color of her pale blue eyes. Also, in the daylight and without the nightgown, Blackwing could see that her cutie mark was a refrigerator.
“Uh... thank you...” he stuttered. “I mean, I slept well, thank you. And please, I don’t want to impose any more than I did. I’ll be leaving in a minute...”
“Oh dear, you know I can’t allow that.” Coldie gave him a wink.
“What?”
“First off, my brother would be angry at me for letting you go like that. Second, I already baked a cake for us three. You just have to try it, it’s my special recipe!” She smiled as she placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of him.
“But... it’s not fair for me to just stay here. I know it doesn’t sound well, but how can I repay you?” And there was more to it than that. If Blackwing was really bound to get in trouble, he didn’t want it to affect other ponies.
“Oh, you could tell me about Canterlot!” Coldie said with a wide grin and a spark shining in her eyes. “I always wanted to go there. The palace, the royalty, and that great ball hosted every year...”
“The Grand Galloping Gala?”
“Yes!” Coldie squeaked. “You must tell me all about it! I mean, if you’ll have the time that is.” She gave Blackwing a sheepish smile.
“Well... ok then,” Blackwing agreed as he took a spoonful of oatmeal. As he felt the sudden warmth in his belly caused by the hot meal and the welcoming attitude of – now – both his hosts, he made a decision. It wouldn't hurt if he stayed for a few days.
-----
It turned out that there was no library in Shadington; the only comparable source of information were the archives held in the town hall. Blackwing wanted to head there right after the late breakfast. Cold Pint had stated that the town hall was situated close to the town market, where she was going to go anyways to pick up some things for dinner. So the two of them grabbed their saddlebags and departed together. As they walked, Blackwing noticed that the weather had changed drastically since he had eaten his breakfast. It was warm, but no longer sunny. Clouds covered all of the sky.
“Strange, I could have sworn that less than an hour ago it was the sunniest of days...” Blackwing stated.
“Oh, that happens a lot here,” Coldie answered.
“But... how?”
“Mostly because of the Everfree forest. The town’s almost inside it. It surrounds Shadington on three sides,” she explained. “Its weather affects ours and the weather ponies have a hard time fighting it.”
As they kept walking, Blackwing noticed that most of the buildings were old; made from stone blocks and bricks that bore traces of erosion, often enough houses were covered with ivy. On the other hoof, newer, technological additions and mechanic installations were visible on every corner. An automatic pump installed on a well, a big steam crane next to a gate of some warehouse, a mechanized bellows in the blacksmith’s workshop.
“For a small town like this, Shadington seems very... modernized,” Blackwing said, more to himself than his companion.
“Oh, yes, we have lots of machines here. Maybe even more than in Balefast.” Coldie turned to him, grinning. “Of course you probably have a lot more sophisticated technology in Canterlot,” she added as she looked at him.
“I’m not so sure,” he answered, again more to himself than her. Blackwing suspiciously eyed some big steam vehicle that stood in a yard they passed. “Has it always been like this? Machines everywhere?”
“More or less,” Coldie said with a shrug. “Some are old, some are newer. Many of them were designed by the engineer.”
“The engineer?” That caused him to raise an eyebrow. “Care to explain?”
“He moved to Shadington when I was just a foal, so I’m not always sure which are his machines and which were just repaired or modernized by him. Elders say that he’s a blessing to Shadington.” Coldie stopped for a fraction of a second, as if she suddenly recalled something. “Oh, we keep calling him ‘the engineer’, but actually he’s been Shadington’s mayor for a few years now.”
“Really now?” Blackwing muttered. The name sounded somewhat familiar to him.
“Yeah. Mayor Steamhorn.”
“Steam... horn?” Blackwing stammered, dumbfounded at the development.
“Yes. Is something wrong?” Coldie asked anxiously.
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.
“Errrm... no,” Blackwing said as he quickly regained his composure.
Maybe it’s just a coincidence, a part of his mind hoped.
Yeah, right, the other part quickly retorted.
“Ok, we’re here! This is the town market.” Coldie pointed a hoof in the direction of a few tiny stands on a square. “And over there is the town hall.” An old, tall, white building towered over the town square. “I’ll buy a few things and head back home. Don’t be late for the dinner.” Coldie grinned at Blackwing and trotted off.
Blackwing eyed the big white building and took a deep breath. In theory, nothing could go wrong. Even if the mayor was some descendant of that crazy mage, what harm could it cause? Actually, in that case, he could end up as a great source of information.
He knew he shouldn’t feel worried. Yet there was still something that nagged at the edge of his mind about the whole thing.
He entered a big hall with stone floor and gazed about. There were some pictures of the local landscapes hanging on the walls, some benches for potential applicants, and a reception desk. A tall, green-coated unicorn mare stood next to the desk as she argued with the receptionist. Soon the unicorn turned around and she stormed out of the building, throwing around furious glances. As she passed by him, she seemed to stop for a fraction of a second, but then moved along.
Something about her felt familiar, but Blackwing couldn’t place it and he didn’t have the time to reflect on it. He approached the reception desk and presented himself.
“Hello, my name is Crescent Blackwing. I’m a historic researcher from the Royal University of Canterlot.”
The receptionist, a middle-aged mare with a tired expression stared at him blankly for a second, as she processed information.
“Oh, hello. We don’t get too many visitors from the capital in these parts. How can I help you?” The receptionist gave Blackwing a smile that said what a nice change from the quarrelsome unicorn.
“I’m here to research the history of this town. Could I...” Blackwing hesitated for a second, “... talk with the mayor about that?”
“Oh, certainly.” The receptionist answered as she looked down at some notes she had on her desk. “But not today. The mayor is currently away on business.”
“Away?”
“He took the boat to Balefast this morning. He has an important meeting with the Balefast city council. He should be back on Monday night.” It was Friday. Blackwing sighed.
“Ok. But you have town archives here, right? Could I look for something there?” Maybe it would be even better to browse some historical sources first and talk with ‘Steamhorn’ later, more prepared.
“I’m sorry sir, but the mayor ordered that the archives are to be off limits for everypony except town hall employees and himself.” Blackwing blinked at her, a little stunned. The receptionist continued in the same indifferent manner. “The archives consist of often historic and valuable texts. Some are in extremely poor condition. If you wish to access the archives, you’re gonna need the mayor’s written permission.”
Blackwing eyed the receptionist with the deep irritation of an insulted professional. “I’ve worked with some of the oldest manuscripts in the royal library of Canterlot. And they don’t allow just anypony to do that. Especially non-unicorns.” He talked slowly, trying not to let the mare get on his nerves. “I think that even your most precious papers will be safe in my presence.”
“I’m sorry,” the receptionist cut in in a way that suggested she wasn’t sorry at all. “But you’ll need permission, just like everypony else.”
Blackwing turned and grumbled something about bureaucratic nonsense as he left the building.
-----
It was a quiet afternoon in the Shadington marketplace. There weren’t many customers and the grocer was happy to see a regular patron – a young yellow mare.
“Good day Cold Pint!” The salespony greeted her.
“G’day to ya too,” Coldie answered with the usual polite smile.
“Happy to see you. What can I get ya today?” The Merchant was eager to make at least a few bits this afternoon before he closed his stand and called it a day.
“Oh I’m just here to get a few onions. We’ve run out, again.” She thought about something for a second. “Oh, and two packs of oat flakes. Anyways, what happened to everypony? This place looks deserted.”
“Yeah, I know,” the grocer said as he nodded sadly.
“It’s usually more crowded, especially on Fridays.”
“Personally, I blame the weather. Look at how cloudy and dark it is! The sky looks like it’s gonna start pouring any minute.”
“And I think I know who’s responsible for that.”
Cold Pint paid for her purchase, put everything in her saddlebags with her muzzle, and trotted away. She stopped under a small black cloud, floating a bit lower than the others, with a long black tail hanging from it.
“Memento. Memento! Mem! MEM!”
“You can stop getting excited over my name. I can hear you quite well,” a cold, emotionless voice answered from above.
“I’m not getting excited, I’m yelling at you,” Coldie explained in a mockingly polite way. “Because I’ve been under an impression that you’re napping during your work hours again.”
“I’m not napping. I’m enjoying this beautiful day,” Memento responded from above, without bothering to look down.
“It’s not beautiful, it’s horrid! Aren’t you supposed to clean such heavy rain clouds? You’re the weather pony for Celayshtia’s shake!” The conversation quickly crossed the boundaries of Coldie’s patience for Memento. She chuckled involuntarily at her friend’s accent, but probably luckily for her, Coldie didn’t notice that from below.
“Why?”
Coldie stared at the hanging tail blankly. “Why what?”
“What’s the point in clearing this sky?”
“It looks depressing and everypony thinks it’s gonna start raining cats and dogs any minute!” Cold Pint’s face, already orange because of her friend, was now slowly changing towards bright red.
“Depressing? Fits this place. This existence. Life is grey, depressing, and pointless. These clouds reflect it in a most perfect way,” Memento responded in the same emotionless manner.
“Well ya know, I couldn' care less ‘bout yer fancy philosophy! Now clear the sky so everypony can leave their homes and stop hiding from the rain that wun’ come!”
“What’s the point in leaving your house?” Memento pondered. “They might as well continue their pointless existence indoors–”
“MEMENTO MAURY!” A loud, high pitched yell got the weather pony back to her hooves in seconds. “Stop fooling around and finish your work! Or you’ll be late for the dinner AGAIN!” It was an elder pale pink pegasus mare, fluttering right next to Memento’s cloud.
“Yes mom,” The young, white weather pony with a cutie mark of a rain cloud responded through clenched teeth. “In a minute.” Thunderstruck at first, Memento returned to her usual emotionless face. She laid down on the cloud again, and again there was only a long black tail hanging from it. But the elder mare knew exactly what to do to get her up.
“The pancakes are not all that tasty when they’re cold, you know.“
Somewhere in the middle of that sentence Memento had taken off. Her mother landed next to Cold Pint and they watched the display together from the ground. Memento had dashed off with a kick that already disintegrated the cloud she had been lying on. Then she hit the thick, dark grey stratus layer above. She pierced it a dozen times, turning it into small black clouds instead of one thick stratus. Then she dashed through them, removing whole groups of small clouds together. After that, she finished off a few remaining nimbus and flew away at an incredible speed towards her home. It didn’t take more than maybe twenty seconds, and all that was left was an almost invisible, faint grey trail against the clear blue sky.
“Boy, oh boy, that filly sure does like pancakes.” Memento’s mum giggled merrily.
“Uh... well... yeah. I mean, that was kinda impressive,” Cold Pint said slowly, still stunned by the display, as her face returned to the usual color. “I knew she was skilled but...”
“Yeah, our little filly has become quite the flyer!”
“Right... well thanks anyway Mrs. Maury! It’s nice to see the sun again.”
“Anytime sweetie,” Mrs. Maury said as she smiled at Coldie. “Oh, speaking of time, I think I should be going. Those pancakes ain’t gonna make themselves!” She flew away after her daughter, a big grin still on her face.
Coldie stood there for a few seconds more, still amazed by the display of Memento’s flying skills and her always gleeful mom. The young mare felt surprised, not because she wasn’t aware of the pegasus’ abilities, she'd just forgotten about them. Besides many differences, Cold Pint and Memento Maury were the best of friends as fillies, but since they were kind of grown up, it had changed. It had had to, she told herself. Coldie had to take care of the house and Mem, she became the youngest weather pony in the history of Shadington. And she had changed; she had begun reading some fancy philosophic books and poetry.
“A fine gal she became, huh?” Coldie heard a familiar low voice behind her. “Ya said she was the first pegasus in yer class to fly, right sis?”
She stopped looking at the sky and sighed. “Yeah.” She quickly returned to here and now. “And what are you doing here?” she said as she gave Tankard a scrutinizing look.
“Just passing by on me way home. Finished work early today,” he explained indifferently. Then, something caught his attention. “Hey, look who’s comin’ our way.”
Coldie turned around to see the familiar grey pegasus with a dark purple mane walking towards them. As he passed by some stands, a green unicorn mare stumbled on some hole in the pavement and hit him in the side. She apologized and wandered off as Blackwing shrugged and trotted towards them.
“Hey there. Oh look, it’s sunny again. I suppose, I should get used to that right?” Both siblings nodded. “I wasn’t allowed in the archives. Need ‘the mayor’s written permission’.”
“He refused to give you one?” Coldie asked in slight disbelief.
“He wasn't there; had some meeting in Balefast.”
“Shame lad. And if he took the boat today–” Tank started.
“He won’t be back ‘till Monday night, I know. The steamboat plies from Balefast only twice a week.” Blackwing finished, slightly irritated. “Guess I’ll have to wait. Anyways, you don’t happen to know that unicorn, the one who walked into me?”
Coldie and Tank exchanged looks.
“Why?” Coldie asked a little anxiously. “Are you hurt?”
“No, my saddlebags took most of the blow.” He chuckled slightly. “She just... reminds me of somepony. I just don’t remember who... probably somepony from Canterlot.”
“Her name’s Crystal Vial. She’s a, uh... a herbalist roun’ere.” Blackwing scrutinized Tankard as the earth pony was saying this. Tank’s expression was somewhat uneasy. Coldie was also strangely serious and quiet as well.
“Is there something wrong with her? I mean... I saw her in the town hall earlier. She was going at it quite furiously with the receptionist. And you seem a bit unhappy to be talking about her.”
“It’s just that lotsa ponies don’t like her here,” Tank explained sternly.
“For any reason in particular?” Blackwing asked, raising an eyebrow with the question.
“Some say she puts awful things in her brews, like dead frogs, spiders, or bat wings.” There was just a slightest hint of fear in Tankard’s voice. “Others even go as far as to call her a witch.”
Blackwing suppressed a chuckle. Ah, the perks of visiting the province.
“And what do you two think of her?”
“I don’t know her,” Coldie started. She sounded a bit insecure in her thoughts. “But something stinks ‘round this whole herbalism business.”
“Yeah... you know, I’m not into that ‘natural medicine’ either. When I’m feelin’ gawk, I jus’ drink buckets o’tea or hot raspberry juice. Coldie cooks me her special soup also.” Tank gave his sister a loving smile which she bashfully returned. Blackwing still felt a bit odd at the sight of such an expression on the face of this giant. The same pony, who just last night seemed to be the last one the pegasus wanted to get to know better. “I go to bed early and the next day I’m good as new. But I know a few guys that buy her potions.”
“And?”
“They don’t complain, but ya know,” He continued, lowering his voice to a whisper,“She coulda put some spell on’em or somethin.”
Blackwing smiled mildly at his bulky, simpleton friend. Whether this Crystal Vial was a charlatan or just an unconventional medicine practitioner, this little town and its citizens seemed to gradually grow more interesting to him. And this was just after one afternoon.