Five months passed. Twilight allowed herself to be swept under the tow of her endless work once again, keeping her eye out for signs of King Sombra, and always finding none. Her reasons to believe he was alive had all faded and gone, one by one. Canterlot sensed no further shockwaves of crystal magic of any kind. Sombra’s horn, safe in its box, had stopped moving. And she’d even met the ghost of Discord’s mother. Lovely lady.
Twilight still visited the crystal fortress outside of Appleloosa. It was unoccupied now; ever since the trail went cold in Neighagra Falls she’d begun searching the place regularly, scouring it from its foundation to the highest gable, and always finding nothing. And when spring came it started to melt like a castle made of snow, to slouch and bow and dissolve under the hard Appleloosan rains. The door didn’t work anymore. You had to teleport to get inside, and sometimes she still did just that, to search for whatever it was she missed.
She’d considered calling a census for all of Equestria just to find out where Clyde had gone, try to make things right. But that felt a little too… nanny-state. She’d always maintained that ponies should have the right to disappear from time to time. Sometimes it was what they needed.
But, one day in April, a note appeared on the door to the fortress. Twilight’s heart gave a jump when she saw it, and she almost tore it in half taking it off the door. It read:
If you’re looking for ol’ Troubleshoes Clyde, you’ll be happy to know he’s moved on to the following address:
And underneath that, a Neighagra Falls address.
…And underneath that, written in scratchy, violent writing:
Unless you’re a solicitor, in which case he DIED.
Twilight grit her teeth and snorted like a bull. She crumpled the note in her magic with enough force to collapse it into a black hole.
Twilight approached the small two-story detached home as quiet as a mouse that was trembling with rage. Then she saw him coming over the far side of the roof: Troubleshoes Clyde, wearing his small hat and a belt full of tools. Twilight ducked behind the wall like an assassin and listened, thinking, Troubleshoes on a roof? That can only lead to…
“Whoa-ooaaahh!”
Crash.
From the sound, Twilight could tell he’d landed in the sharpest trees in the garden. Because of course he had.
She was about to come around the corner to help when she heard the screen door open, and she froze.
“Clyde! Are you alright?”
Twilight both recognized and didn’t recognize the new voice. And she noticed, too, that they had referred to Troubleshoes as “Clyde” instead of “Troubleshoes” like she’d been doing. She closed her eyes and listened.
“I think so,” Clyde groaned. “Yowch!”
“I told you I can do the roof.”
“I reckon you’re still in recovery.”
“Do I look like I’m in recovery?”
“Can’t be too careful. Another month or so, I reckon.”
The new voice sighed deeply.
“I’ll get the winch.”
The front door clanged against its frame, and Twilight peered around the corner. Clyde was suspended in the branches about a foot off the ground, picking twigs out of his forelegs with his teeth. His hat was hung on a branch high above him. When he met her eyes, his whole body flinched.
“Hi there,” Twilight said. “Long time no see, Clyde.”
Clyde swallowed. “Hullo.”
“Need some help?”
Clyde cast a quick glance at the front door. “Surely,” he muttered.
With a quick spell, Clyde was out of the bushes, turned right-side up, plucked clean of twigs, and set back on his hooves. Twilight placed his hat on his head and straightened it out.
“Much obliged,” said Clyde.
“Don’t mention it.”
The other stallion’s voice boomed from inside the walls of the house.
“Where’s the winch again?! Is it upstairs?!”
Clyde looked at Twilight with wide, terrified eyes.
“What was the last place we had to fish you out of?!”
Twilight smiled. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
Clyde swallowed again. “Reckon that’d be the most polite course of action.” He turned to go inside, and Twilight followed carefully behind, scanned the kitchen that they entered. She found no traps, only pictures everywhere. Landscapes, trees and waterfalls, close-up shots of small animals; they were on the counter, the wall, every piece of furniture inside. Clyde featured a lot. Including in one she recognized on a table next to the front door. The one of Clyde and his mother.
Clyde hung his hat on a rack, and called out, “Summer!”
The movement upstairs stopped abruptly.
Summer, noted Twilight.
“Reckon you’d better come on down!” Clyde went on. “We, ah… have a guest.”
The sound of hoofsteps came back, but slower. Quieter. ‘Summer’ was on the tips of his hooves.
A black-on-grey earth pony stallion stood crouched at the top of the stairs, hiding unsuccessfully behind the banister. He had blood red eyes. It took Twilight a moment to release herself from his stare and take in the rest of his features, such as the black mane coiffed with a sinister swoop. And the wrinkles in his face from a lifetime of laughing evilly.
But then he straightened up over the railing, and he looked different. He had a kind smile, a trimmed strip of beard along his chin. He wore a prim and disarming plaid shirt of purple and black. And he was fit. Certainly more fit than a certain evil king she once knew.
“Princess Twilight Sparkle,” said Summer. “My, what a pleasant surprise,” and his voice sounded both surprised and pleasant.
Nopony said anything. For the first time since she’d come in, Twilight noticed a clock ticking loudly on the wall, above a picture of Clyde and Summer together.
Summer cleared his throat and came down the rest of the stairs, squared his shoulders and raised a hoof to Twilight.
Twilight shook the hoof and nodded politely. “Nice to meet you,” she said.
“Yes.” Summer laughed awkwardly. “Nice to… meet you too.”
Twilight noted the stallion’s every movement, from his gait, to the weight of his step, to his smile at Clyde. She noticed him make a point of picking up a chair and moving it beside Clyde so that they could both face him from the other side of the table. Visibly, Clyde relaxed when Summer was near. His mouth twitched in a smile at a casual pat on the shoulder.
“How’d you meet?” Twilight asked.
“Oh, here in Neighagra,” Summer answered. “I was traveling for work, see. Er… I’m a photographer. And, well, I was doing a piece for the rodeo here, and that’s where we met, and… I just thought there was something about that clown! And I, heh…”
Twilight winced. It sounded rehearsed, yet he was still blowing it.
“Well, we hit it off well,” he finished lamely.
“Real well,” Clyde agreed.
Twilight nodded. “I was looking for you at your old place. Saw the note.” She glanced at Summer. “And the addendum.”
Summer laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. Clyde stared hard at him, and Twilight could easily read the look. I told you that was a bad idea.
“Right, Summer said, clearing his throat. “Well, I had to drag Clyde back to his old home to say hello to his old friends in Appleloosa. Introduce me to them.”
Twilight smiled. “Must have been a shock to some of them.”
They both chuckled.
“Yes,” Summer said. “What did Braeburn say again?”
Summer and Clyde looked at each other and said in unison: “So, is he your pardner? Or is he your… partner.”
They laughed and shook their heads. Even Twilight smiled. She could feel the tension lifting off of them. But within her, it was only growing heavier.
“So I never found that fugitive,” she said.
The laughing stopped.
“Oh?” said Clyde. “Maybe… he wasn’t returned after all.”
“I suppose not,” Twilight agreed. But then she hummed in disagreement and tapped the table. “Except, no, he must have returned. Because of the way his horn reacted.”
The clock ticked loudly in the background.
“Perhaps it’s broken,” said Summer. “Just a false alarm.”
“Could be,” echoed Twilight with a smile. “But, you know, that doesn’t make any sense. Because why else would it… Hey, I have an idea.”
She looked gravely at Clyde’s partner.
“Do you want to see it?”
Before either could respond, Twilight reached with her magic across the river, across the plains, through the snowy mountains to the Crystal Empire’s vault, and she beckoned the horn from its safe box. After a loud burst of magic, it was on the table.
Summer and Clyde both recoiled. Summer’s mouth fell open. Twilight could almost see it watering.
“It does the strangest thing when it gets close to its master,” she said.
The horn started to vibrate. Then rock. Then wobble. It rotated itself, and then began to roll towards Summer.
“Yep,” said Twilight with a heavy sigh. “Just like… that.”
Twilight shook her head, and she felt a tremendous sadness washing over her for Troubleshoes Clyde once again.
“I’m sorry, Clyde,” she said. “I really am.” She closed her eyes and readied a spell.
The rocking stopped. Twilight’s eyes sprang open. The horn was still, fallen over like a blood-red banana. It went dull and brownish. There was no sound in the room but for the ticking clock, and the pregnant hum of Twilight’s spell.
She relaxed. So did the other two. She picked up the horn and stared at it. It might as well have been a rock.
“Like I said,” Summer muttered. “Broken.”
Twilight opened her mouth, then closed it without speaking.
“Why did it stop?” she whispered. The stallions didn’t answer, and that was just as well, because the real question she wanted to ask was locked deep inside her.
What did I miss?
And then she saw it.
Clyde was holding Summer’s hoof.
Twilight followed the press of their hooves, up their forelegs, to their shoulders, then suddenly she was looking into Clyde’s kind green eyes.
He wanted her to leave.
“Well,” she said, and she spirited the horn back to its box. “This has been lovely, you two. I’m sorry I can’t stay.”
“Sure,” said Clyde. “Reckon you’re a busy gal.”
“Yeah. Heavy lies the crown and all that.”
“I can only imagine,” answered Summer.
Twilight found that amusing.
At once, and awkwardly, the three of them stood up. On the table, Summer and Clyde’s hooves were still entwined.
“Nice of you to visit,” said Summer. “Come back any time.”
And though he said that, Twilight could read something different in the room. The two stallions were eager for her to leave, but restraining themselves from physically pushing her out the door.
“That’ll be tough,” she said. “I still have to find that fugitive, after all. But when I do, I’ll be sure to come back and update you. How’s that sound?”
“In that case, Twilight Sparkle.” And Summer laughed an easy, relieved laugh. “Goodbye forever.”