The Ice District immediately made me feel at home.
It wasn't quite like Icereach, far more metal and far less concrete. My boots echoed on the floor in a way they never could in the hallways of the bunker, but the claustrophobia was the same, the boxy rectangular tunnels with exposed support beams and ventilation equipment and cables tied hastily to the ceiling or else stuffed under a grate in a crawlspace next to a wall. It held a uniformly unfinished feel, as if it had been constructed in a hurry with a strict list of priorities and functionality and no one had been allowed to finish beyond the basics, even if it would have been easy.
The floor was anything but consistent, sometimes metal plates and other times grates and occasionally even pipes with flattened tops so they were easier to walk on. The aesthetic was cohesively chaotic, full of blue metal with tinges of gray and standard caution stripes employed liberally as trim. Where a fancy mansion might use paintings to adorn the walls, this place had wiring access panels, ventilation fans and screens displaying real-time data graphs that were all labeled with code names only a trained engineer could make use of.
Whoever had commissioned this place clearly had impeccable taste. Or, at least, the same taste I had brought myself up to feel most comfortable around.
We weren't quite alone in the tunnels, passing mostly working ponies who had toolboxes and were tinkering with this and that. I wondered if they were maintaining the status quo, like in Icereach, or if this place was still actively under development. That was one area where I wouldn't mind if the Ice District broke from the precedent of my home.
"It should be right around here," Gerardo muttered, counting off doors that had to belong to residences. I gave the party a quick once-over; the air conditioning was clearly doing Corsica a lot of good. Slipstream, on the other hoof, was getting toward the bottom of her comfort zone.
Ansel, myself and Gerardo were perfectly fine.
"Ah, here we are!" The griffon turned to a door, raised a talon, and precisely punched a doorbell.
Several seconds passed, and I heard a loud scrabbling of hooves inside the door. Then it opened.
An earth pony mare was waiting for us, perhaps a year or two my junior, but with a chubby, foalish face that forced me to double-check my estimate. Her yellow-and-pink mane reminded me of a poisonous frog, and she wore a black hoodie with 'gamer' stenciled on the side. She roamed us with her eyes in a way that suggested she had never heard that staring was rude, and her tongue poked out in a curious blep.
"Hello there," Gerardo began, bowing respectfully. "We are-"
The mare's eyes widened as if she was noticing Gerardo for the first time. "Mooooooooom!" she suddenly called, turning and scrambling away into the house, leaving the door open behind her. "There's a griffon at the dooooor!"
As she turned away, my heart momentarily froze: her special talent was a snowflake.
Knock it off, I told myself, quickly shaking myself out of it and forcing thoughts of Ludwig-Corsica from my mind. That was probably a really common talent, especially in a place called the Ice District. I knew several ponies with similar ones in Icereach already. Besides, her eyes were completely normal, and not even blue. Apparently, I'd still have to watch myself to make sure my history with Ludwig and Aldebaran didn't give me paranoia or panic attacks, even though I was doing much better than previously.
Then a new mare arrived at the door, the gamer filly lurking curiously behind her with her tongue poking out again. Her mother was a unicorn, yellow, with a shark-like face and an impressively massive raspberry-red mane with blue-raspberry highlights. For a moment, I squinted. These were mother and daughter? The elder barely looked more than thirty...
And then I realized that it was Gerardo and Slipstream's turn to be frozen.
"Well well," she greeted, watching Gerardo like a hawk. "I never expected you to pay me a visit, Mister Extraordinaire. Long time no see..." She frowned, reading his face. "You didn't show up here on purpose, did you."
Gerardo regained the ability to speak. "Well, I suppose this explains why Graygarden and Elise changed the subject whenever I tried to get your name."
The yellow mare sighed. "Go figure. And here I thought you were finally ready to ask for my help on your world-crawling quest. Glad to see you shacked up, by the way. I was rooting for you from the very beginning." She turned her focus to the three of us. "Waitaminute. Corsica?"
"Hey, mare I've met in passing a few times." Corsica replied.
The yellow mare blinked, and then and then slowly regarded Gerardo with an expression that suggested she had every right to laugh.
"Thank you, yes, I'm aware, the irony is killing me. Moving on." The griffon pointedly cleared his throat. "I do believe we have the incorrect address, however, so we'll be taking our leave-"
"Wait, what?" I cut in, feeling like a train was running past inches from my face. "What's ironic about that? That's like the third time you've referenced escorting someone to Ironridge. And where are we going?"
The yellow mare's horn started to glow, and for a moment I lost track of her, though it clearly wasn't teleportation. She reappeared out in the hallway beside us. "If he hasn't told you, the last time deposed Ironridge royalty paid him to escort some young strangers to this city, it started a war," she said casually, curtsying. "And yours truly was dragged along for the ride. Jamjars, at your service. Are you sure you wouldn't care to come in? I'm a good enough hostess to schmooze the top of the top. I'm sure I can make it worth your while."
"Quite sure, thank you," Gerardo replied, bowing again and trying to back away. "At the moment, I think we need to excuse ourselves for a team huddle..."
Jamjars watched in disappointment as Gerardo ushered us with his wings, speeding us away.
"What's that all about?" Ansel pressed the moment we were around a corner, digging in his heels. "You know her?"
"Yes, you could say that," Gerardo lamented.
"She's... very capable?" Slipstream offered.
"Also the most slippery, devious and dangerous mare in the entire city," Gerardo whispered, lowering his voice. "I can't fathom what those two were thinking, shipping you out here for her to play host to. They know who she is. They also know I'm not making a round trip..."
I felt myself growing cold. "That bad? What did she do? What's wrong with her?"
"You might be overstating it," Slipstream countered. "She was just-"
"You remember what she did," Gerardo said, leaving that at that.
The fur along my spine crawled.
"Well," Corsica declared, "I've seen her before, and my hooves are tired, so that's good enough for me. Is this bad enough that we're not gonna stay there? And if so, what are you going to do about it? I need a plan before I pass out, here."
Gerardo sighed. "Admittedly, that was rather low on my list of things to prepare contingencies for, though I suppose we can make one. I was trusting that Elise's judgement on this matter and ability to conduct a background check would be sufficient. And Graygarden's, for that matter."
"Gerardo," Slipstream said softly, "you haven't seen her properly in decades. Maybe Elise's judgement is sound and Jamjars has changed?"
"Can we slow down, here?" I asked, stretching my wings and praying that they would stop trying to stoke my paranoia. "What's bad about her? The last thing I need is something vague to be afraid of."
"Yeah. Deep breaths, buddy," Corsica told the griffon. "What Hallie said. What's her deal?"
Gerardo's headcrest drooped. "Right," he said. "Jamjars. We... knew her, quite a while back. And the biggest reason you three would want to avoid her is that she's an avid seeker of trouble. If your goal is to avoid another situation like what happened with Aldebaran, I have a hunch this is the wrong place to be."
"That's all well and good," Ansel said from the side, sitting with his hooves folded. "Except for one glaring problem."
We all looked at him.
"Think back to Aldebaran," he said, tapping a wall. "They had us fooled well and good, but still made one major mistake: losing our trust. Anyone playing at a scheme like that needs to keep us cooperating of our own free will. Now, I know nothing about this Jamjars mare, but I do know Icereach's leaders have both vouched for her. Yes, not the best argument given what happened last time, but still: the only ones vouching against her are you. See where I'm going with this?"
Gerardo swallowed, catching on quickly.
"See," Ansel went on, "I've got a hunch you're going to hem and haw for a while and eventually make out like you've got some friends in the city we could stay with, and it would be a grand old favor and everything. And it's entirely possible you're right, and we'd be wise to abandon our plans and go with you. The only problem is that if I were evil and looking to willingly abduct a group of ponies, this is exactly how I'd do it."
Gerardo bowed his head. "I can't fault your logic, or your caution. You're very alert for things like these. However, now that you've put yourself in a situation where you don't know which way is down, what will you do?"
Ansel nodded over his shoulder. "Well, my vote says we go hear this mare out. If her problem is a disregard for danger, I imagine that would be readily apparent from a good talk. And if we wind up agreeing with you, I'll be more than happy to talk contingency plans then."
"After we get showers?" Corsica asked hopefully.
Gerardo hesitated, then sighed. "Alright. My time is at a premium now that I'm in this city, but I can't see a better way myself. Halcyon?"
"Yeah." I nodded. Jamjars... came off maybe a little strong from the few seconds I had seen her, and I decided I wanted a better look for myself too, while Gerardo was still around just in case he was right. Really, though, was it too much to ask to have someone to trust right out of the gate?
Maybe it was. After all, it was hard to name a pony I trusted more than myself.
"Right," Gerardo said, straightening up, Slipstream looking relieved beside him. "In that case, we have no time to lose."
Jamjars' door was closed when we returned, and this time Corsica knocked. Once again, it was answered by the filly in the hoodie.
She smiled when she saw us. "Hiya! Name's Kitty. Momma thought you'd be back!"
"Hi?" I greeted back, trying to figure how I felt about a pony wearing a hoodie in a city with a climate like this. Not that I was one to speak, dressed up head to tail...
Kitty just stared at us as if there was no reason to say anything else, a happy smile on her face. Slowly, her tongue started poking out again. I was starting to wonder if this was her default pose.
"...Might we come in?" Ansel asked.
"Yup!" Kitty replied, standing obliviously in our way.
I hesitated, entirely unsure how to handle this filly. Foals weren't common in Icereach, and I was starting to suspect Kitty was way younger than she looked...
Fortunately, Jamjars soon stepped back into view, moving more like a dancer than a bustling soccer mom. I watched her gaze, focusing much more on myself, Corsica and Ansel instead of Gerardo and Slipstream this time. "Well, hello," she said, curtsying again. "Care to come in? Good hospitality has no expiration date."
I focused, trying to read her now that I wasn't distracted by Gerardo's reaction. Jamjars was... deliberate. Well-groomed, carefully presented and hard to read, but I got the faint impression she was saying two things at once when she spoke. Odds were, it was some sub-context message to annoy Gerardo. I could tell there was a tense history between them, but at least those traits didn't scream recklessness like the griffon had said. If anything, they were closer to Leitmotif... whom I had been completely taken by before she betrayed us. I would have to keep my eyes open.
"You bet we would," Corsica answered, once again carrying her own saddlebags and making a show of looking not as tired as she was.
"Then please." Jamjars gently nudged Kitty out of the way. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
We stepped inside, Gerardo and Slipstream bringing up the rear. Jamjars' house had a small foyer which adjoined several hallways and a decorated living room. At her instruction, we dumped our bags near the door. The living room had a fluffy carpet I was uncertain she wanted my boots on, but otherwise looked surprisingly reasonable next to the dainty monstrosity I remembered in Corsica and Graygarden's apartment. Hadn't Corsica told me it was done up that way for her? Jamjars' own house was neat and pretty, not cloyingly cute.
I wasn't sure how to interpret that, but at least it meant if we stayed here, we wouldn't have to put up with a hideous sense of decorative taste.
"Don't worry about making a mess," Jamjars urged, skimming off through the living room. "I'm the first pony you can complain to about what it's like living on an airship all the time."
"Thanks," Corsica answered, "but can I use your shower?"
"Left hall, second door on the left. Kitty?"
Kitty looked up from intently sniffing Ansel's suitcase, beaming at being called on. "Bathroom's this way, lady!" she chirped, prancing down the hallway.
"What's her story?" Ansel asked, following me into the living room. "Seems a little..."
"Loopy?" Jamjars answered, using her telekinesis to arrange glasses and plates on a low-set glass table. "Don't fall for it, she's smarter than she looks."
I wasn't watching them. I had just realized there was a window.
It wasn't a window to the outdoors, though, which was probably why I had missed it at first. The landscape beyond was dark and dimly lit, a metal cavern much like the ones the train had run through on its climb up the district. In fact, I could see train tracks far, far below, with one winding along them right now.
Jamjars' apartment was on a wall, or perhaps an overhang, looking out into one of the giant expanses inside the Ice District. The ceiling was a solid plate, as was the floor, far below. The two were connected by hundreds or even thousands of intricate steel support columns, the reaches of the cavern stretching out into the dusky distance. And I had a perfect view, looking out into that field of emptiness and metal.
My heart stirred, and my breath misted the window. I loved it.
"Aren't you, like..." Ansel and Jamjars' conversation continued in the background. "A little young for someone as old as her?"
"If it helps you sleep at night, she's adopted," Jamjars said with the tone of someone who had been asked that far too many times.
"I have to admit, I'm surprised as well," Gerardo mentioned, standing near the doorway. "I never thought of you much as the nurturing type."
"Times change, Mister Extraordinaire," Jamjars lectured. "So do ponies. Don't be surprised by what you've been ignoring for twenty years."
Ansel raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you two have a pretty healthy grudge with each other."
"Actually, they're the ones I'm still on the same side as," Jamjars primly replied, flicking her bushy tail at Gerardo and Slipstream. "Merely annoyed that they've insisted we work separately for the last..." She squinted, sizing Ansel up. "Probably your entire life."
"Work separately?" My ears twitched. "You mean you're both trying to do the same thing?"
Gerardo suddenly looked apprehensive. Jamjars gave him an evil look.
"You know," Ansel pointed out, "as clear as it is that there's something between you two, we didn't come here because we weren't interested in seeing who had the right of it. And you say you don't have a grudge, but I'm trying not to feel like you're the one who would do something drastic, here."
Jamjars sighed daintily. "Oh, apologies. We've just got a long history. But, as the prospect of me discussing it clearly makes him oh so nervous, I suppose my lips are sealed."
There it is, I thought. She couldn't resist taking snipes at him when the opportunity presented itself. Maybe Gerardo was right, and this mare really did have a lack of self-control around danger. I didn't want to abandon Elise and Graygarden's plan, and Ansel had a point that this would be an easy way to kidnap us in good faith... and he didn't even know Gerardo had told me we might not be able to go back to Icereach. But if the griffon was right, I really didn't like the situation that would put us in.
Jamjars brought out snacks, but the room's charged atmosphere remained the same. I could tell Ansel was thinking along the same lines as I was: whatever we picked, we'd be making a leap of faith. Maybe Jamjars only had issues with this one griffon, and staying with her would be completely fine otherwise - I noticed she seemed much more friendly toward Slipstream. But walking out on her, whether it was a trap or not, would leave us completely and totally isolated from home.
I felt my conscience retreat into myself, as if I could hide from the problem and put off having to make another decision with no right answer. But I had claimed to be ready for this. I came out here with the hope I would get a redo, could finish unraveling the mystery of Aldebaran and would prove to myself that this time, I wouldn't fold under pressure.
Well, the pressure, whether real or imaginary, was here.
Minutes wore on, with Jamjars consistently unable to avoid menacing Gerardo, yet being genuinely polite and pleasant to everyone else. There was more small talk than I cared to parse, my brain instead searching incessantly for a third solution that refused to present itself. Jamjars knew why we were here, all this had apparently been put on the table with her as a possibility long ago. And yet she constantly oscillated between trying to be as hospitable to us as possible and getting on Gerardo's nerves.
Corsica finished her shower. Whether we stayed or left, but especially if we left, I decided I needed one too.
While Jamjars' house was substantially more tasteful than the decorations in Corsica's Icereach apartment, her bathroom was every bit as well-stocked. Instead of a shower, I drew a bubble bath, soaking and floating and relishing the opportunity, for the first time in two weeks, to take off my boots. Wearing them all day was one thing, but not even removing them at night for days on end... My outfit needed some quality cleaning and maintenance. That was one pro to staying here, at least for a while. If I was somehow to make it on my own in Ironridge, it would be much easier if I had a safe base and the tools to do what I needed with my appearance.
Of course, if I stayed here, ideally I wouldn't need it.
Water submerged my ears, drowning out any hope of hearing the conversation outside. Instead, I got the pleasing thrum of distant machines, an invisible wave that covered my body, isolating my fears and turning them into objects that I could hold. What was I so afraid of? Gerardo was afraid of Jamjars, and I suspected the real reason was because she could tell us things he didn't want us to know. Things about what he did, about the Writs of Harmonic Sanction, about the goddess he was gathering them for...
Perhaps that meant I couldn't trust Jamjars with my own secrets, but that was nothing new. I hadn't been planning to, anyway. And it wasn't like I even could, when most of my secrets were ones the me behind my mask didn't even trust me with, herself.
I wondered what she would do in a situation like this.
If there were things Jamjars knew, maybe I wanted to know them too. The whole point of leaving Icereach was because I hated it when information was hidden, after all. I wished I could talk to her one on one. But, first, I needed to finish my soak.
Some time later, I dressed myself again, my head clear and refreshed. I had come to a conclusion: I wanted to stay here. Whatever I chose, the worst-case scenario was the same: we get used, manipulated, and potentially endangered, in which case I would trust in Mother's reassurances about my bracelet and fight far earlier than I had last time. But the best-case scenarios were uneven: living a more stable life with someone Elise vouched for who at least knew how to raise a child and secure a high-value property in an influential part of town beat out living on the couch of an anonymous friend of Gerardo's for the foreseeable future. Not only that, but in the event that things went south, I had a hunch it would be easier to run from plan A to plan B, rather than the other way around. And if we did go with Gerardo, we would constantly be in a position where we didn't know whether things were going south at all.
Time to see what everyone else was thinking.
I stepped back through the foyer to the living room. "Hey," I greeted, "What's going on?"
"I think we're about done," Corsica answered, sitting lazily on a couch. Gerardo looked anxious. Jamjars looked at ease. "Everyone's been frank. We'll be taking our chances with Gerardo's friends."
Oh.
"Well?" I glanced at Jamjars, waiting for her to make her case.
"Since you missed it, apparently I've been made out to be a troublemaker," Jamjars told me, as if everything was fine. "I'll admit, I do have my nose in a lot of things going on. But if you're interested in a cushy, cozy life, it's not a question of how good you are at avoiding trouble. It's a question of how good you are at getting out when trouble comes to call."
I stood there, waiting for her to go on.
"I suppose you could live like a peasant in the slums and never have any dreams or ambitions," Jamjars admitted, rolling her eyes. "But somehow I think that would cause you three to keel over and die of boredom. And before you start, him and his friends aren't the way to get there. Apparently, he's got so many eyes on his back he had you get off the train and walk twice just to throw anyone looking for him off his trail! But me?" Her eyes glittered. "I can teach you to thrive in this city. I have connections, and oh, they weren't easy to get. His way of dealing with problems is to fly away to another city. My way is to solve them."
I hesitated. "Gerardo?"
Gerardo just shrugged. We wanted to come here to see for ourselves, his gaze said. It was our call, whether we wanted what she had to offer.
"It's a compelling argument," Ansel said, "if we were planning on getting into trouble in the first place. Which we're not."
Were we? Because I sort of wanted a redo with Aldebaran. The Composer was still out here somewhere, right? Had I forgotten to talk to my friends about one of my reasons for wanting to come here, or had I done so and they just put it out of mind...?
"I... dunno," I told them, remembering that beautiful view out over the Ice District. "Jamjars, what if we wanted to stay here and, like, not get in trouble?"
Jamjars shrugged. "Who's stopping you? I only hear one griffon here advocating for you to run out and join an under-staffed rebel alliance who's forgotten who they're fighting for."
"That's not a very accurate characterization," Gerardo muttered.
"Jamjars," Slipstream said, "Valey and the others are my friends too, so please tone it down a little?"
Jamjars pointed a hoof at her. "You're on the right side of history. Don't be so quick to kiss up to the dividing line."
Slipstream shrank into her chair.
"Feels like a political land mine to me," Corsica muttered. "I'd just as soon stay clear of all this."
Jamjars sighed. "Well, I suppose not everyone can trust at first sight like Gerardo. A pity. If your minds are made up, then away with you. Just remember who knows how to get things done when your mistakes come to call... My door is always open for someone who will appreciate it."
Gerardo and Slipstream got up to leave. Corsica and Ansel got up to follow them. I hesitated, feeling very much like there was more yet to be said.
"Are you sure...?" I tried to catch Ansel's shoulder on his way past.
"You were in there for a while," Ansel whispered. "We'll catch you up later."
Yes, but if he had different evaluation criteria than me...
I was planning to stick my nose into trouble again. I came here fully intending it. Maybe not before I was ready, but I wanted answers. And Jamjars had said more or less what I wanted to hear.
Nevertheless, I followed along. Splitting up would feel horrible, after how much we had gone through to all want to leave Icereach together. I just hoped this wouldn't cost us too much. Giving up any tools we could use to manage our journey felt like a loss of agency, and whatever knowledge Jamjars had that Gerardo didn't want her telling...
We left the apartment, Jamjars watching from the living room. The door swung shut behind us. I had a distinct feeling we were making the wrong choice.
"So," Gerardo sighed, "I suppose we're winging it, then. There's a tavern in the lower south Day District called the Gates to the Underworld. The proprietor is a friend of a friend, and notably a sarosian."
I tried to interest myself in the conversation as we started walking. I hadn't realized how much my heart was set on this giant pile of metal.
"Sarosians, I mentioned, may not be the most populous race in Ironridge," Gerardo went on, "and so there's something of a... support group..."
Someone appeared at the other end of the hallway. And not just someone, but an entire posse.
The leader was a tall black unicorn in a silver dress, with long eyes and a sharp jaw and a horn studded with emerald jewelry. Behind her marched a line of guards in heavy plate armor and feather plume helmets, their steps crunching against the metal floor. I wondered if that was really the most practical way to armor oneself in a modern city, especially one so hot, but it certainly was imposing.
Gerardo not only froze, but took several steps back.
"Gerardo Guillaume," the black mare greeted, her voice clear and echoing and cold. "What a pleasure to see you back in this city. You should have sent greetings when you arrived!"
I strongly considered running. Something about this mare made me feel... odd, in a way I had never felt before. Icereach certainly didn't have anyone like her.
"You know this dame?" Ansel hissed, taking a defensive stance.
"We know each other well," the black mare said, answering for him. "Business partners, in fact. With multiple ongoing deals."
"There is a reason," Gerardo breathed, "why I said I couldn't look out for you indefinitely in Ironridge."
"And Slipstream, too." She gave Slipstream a cold smile. "Might I invite you back to the executive suite? Now does seem like a good time to continue our discussions."
"And you are?" Ansel asked, visibly shaken.
The black mare turned to us. "I am Lilith, head of Cold Karma's division of societal planning. And who are you?"
For a moment, my voice caught in my throat. And then, from behind us: "Oh, they're with me."
It was Jamjars.
Lilith gave the mare a sour look. "Family friends, here for a visit," Jamjars explained, not at all bothered by the mare's fierce composure. "By the way, do you mind having your guards keep it down? I'm not paying your corporation premium rent to hear their boots go clomping by."
"...You aren't paying any rent," Lilith told her slowly.
Jamjars winked. "And that's becaaause...?"
"...I see." Lilith backed off, her tone opting not to pick a fight. "Then I hope your visit goes smoothly."
"It's an extended visit," Jamjars told her with an innocent smile.
Lilith turned to leave, her guards parting and making an aisle for her to pass.
"Well, I... suppose that's the end of that," Gerardo managed, clearly flustered. "We'll try to find you and make sure you're alright after this is all cleared up. I wouldn't advise following us now, but remember who to go to if your path gets sticky."
"Yep!" Jamjars waved as he turned to follow Lilith. "Me..."
Ansel and Corsica shared a look.
"Feel free to leave, by the way," Jamjars mentioned to them, turning back toward her house as the guards executed a complex shuffle to turn around while maintaining their marching order. "But that's the kind of attention the ponies you'd be running toward currently have."
Wordlessly, Ansel and Corsica turned to follow her.
I stood for a moment longer, shell shocked, watching as Lilith and Gerardo vanished around a corner and the guards started to retreat. Jamjars' door stayed open behind me. One guard, however, stopped and turned to me, their visor down and the armor completely obscuring their body.
"Halcyon," the guard greeted with a small salute, speaking in the unmistakable voice of the Composer. "Welcome to my city."
And then they left, and I was alone.