“…so, see,” said Amanita, “if each circle is for one tribe-”
“But it’s not like there’s an earth pony Twilight, a unicorn Twilight, and a pegasus Twilight all in one body,” protested Mason. “There’s just an alicorn Twilight.”
“You’re thinking too intelligently,” Amanita said, shaking her head. “They used black candles, for Celestia’s sake.”
Mason looked at the circles again. “I…” He tilted his head. “I guess that makes… the right sort of nonsense.” He blinked. “Oh! Oh, that’s what these chords are for. They’re trying to unify the circles. See, each one’s going from one of the tri-azimuths of one circle to the next one of another.”
“But… That’s not how…” Amanita gave the manacled pegasus a Look. “You know, Code was being generous to whoever made this. This is terrible.”
The pegasus, so forthcoming about the target of the ritual once they’d asked him, rolled his eyes. “I’m just a guard,” he mumbled.
Code walked out of one of the doors to the courtyard, disheveled but unhurt. Panting, she wiped some sweat from her muzzle and said, “The house is secure and the perps are being moved to the foyer.”
“Already?” asked Amanita.
“Many of them simply didn’t want to fight,” said Code, shrugging. “They knew when to fold ’em. Did you figure out what this mess is supposed to do?”
“Kill Princess Twilight,” said Mason.
Code blinked, took another look at the circles, then dropped onto her rump and hung her head in her hooves. “Idiots, idiots, idiots, idiots…” she groaned. “They’re just right enough to be more wrong than ever.” She got back up and prowled catlike around the setup, her eyes narrow and her tail swishing. Every few steps, she’d mutter something under her breath.
Eventually, Mason cleared his throat. “We’re… still trying to figure out how they got to this-”
“Have you read Plumbing Reality?” asked Code. “It’s a beginner’s guide to ritual magic. It’s acceptable if you’re starting out. But one of the projects they use kills ants. You’re supposed to set up a small magic circle, stick some honey inside, and watch as ants try to get to it only to die as they cross the circle. It’s meant to demonstrate that rituals work. BUT!” She waved a hoof at Amanita and Mason. “It’s very explicitly not scalable. You can’t make it bigger to kill cockroaches or mice.” She looked up and said flatly, “As best I can tell, Gloss tried to make it bigger. Among other things. This whole thing is some… ugly mishmash of ideas that really do work on their own, but don’t — can’t — fit together at all. They just- black-boxed every single thing, throwing in sigils and runes that seemed to work without any thought of why they worked.”
“Sounds like somepony who’d want to kill Princess Twilight,” said Mason.
“Maybe.” Code looked up, frowning. “You know, the RRU should be here by-”
Three pegasi in gilded armor swooped in above the courtyard. Two of them took up a holding pattern over the house, while the third spiralled down, coming to a remarkably graceful landing right in front of Code. He was a big, stocky stallion with a coat like a blackboard and seemingly more mustache than tail.
“Major Pain,” said Code, unperturbed.
“Colonel Code,” the pegasus said, saluting. “First-response pegasi are already securing the house. Or at least, they would be if your ponies hadn’t secured it already.” He grinned facetiously. “C’mon, how come you always have things in hoof before we can get here?”
“Because the day when we don’t,” said Code, “will be a Very Bad Day indeed.” She had the sort of voice where capital letters were Audible.
“Heh. Ain’t that the truth. Curse you, logic.” Pain gave a nod of familiarity to Mason, then glanced at Amanita. “It’s P-A-N-E, by the way,” he said. “Dual Pane.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Major Dual Pane of Canterlot’s Rapid Response Unit. Yes, I’m eagerly awaiting a promotion.”
“I am so sorry,” said Amanita.
Pane snorted. “Thanks for not making the obvious joke, at least.”
“Major, this is Amanita,” said Code. “She’s the necromancer we’ve been working with.” Amanita half-smiled and waved.
“Ah.” Pane’s pupils contracted and his wings tightened. “So, uh, she’s the reason Phalanx is, uh-”
“I’m the reason Phalanx isn’t dead,” snapped Amanita. If she was going to own this, the least she could do was stand up for herself. No more would she see ponies react like that, only for her to sit by and say nothing.
“Hmm. Right.” Pane took a half-unconscious step back.
“And don’t you forget it,” said Code. “Speaking of which, where is Phalanx? Did you bring him with you?”
Pane tore his gaze away from Amanita. “No, we sent him back to the castle. After what he went through…” He sighed and shook his head. “He’ll probably spend the rest of the day freaking out.”
Phalanx sauntered into the barracks break room, a javelin slung over his back, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, guys!” he bellowed. “You know how you’re always going on about the wounds you’ve survived? Well, guess what!” He reared and undid his barding, exposing the hole in his chest. “I survived death! Beat that!”
One of the ponies glanced in his direction, then did a double-take and swore, prompting looks and gasps from the rest of the guards. A private tiptoed up, his eyes huge as he looked at the hole. “That’s…” he whispered. “There’s no way that’s real. You- You should be dead.”
“I told you, I did die!” said Phalanx cheerfully. “But I survived. Not an illusion, either.” He took the javelin, awkwardly worked it into the wound on his back, pushed it on through, and pulled it out the hole in his chest, not dropping his grin. Several guards gagged, one of them clapping a hoof to his mouth and turning away.
“C’mon, feel inside!” Phalanx took a step forward; most everypony else took a step back. “It’s real!”
After an awkward pause for the obvious reasons, the private suddenly stepped forward, as if he’d been shoved and yanked by a nose ring at the same time. He gawked at the hole, then slowly pushed his hoof inside as if in a trance. Phalanx didn’t stop smiling, even flaring his wings. More gags from around the room, but less of them.
“Oh, Celestia, this is disgusting,” the private said in a watching-a-train-crash voice as he worked his leg further in. “…Is… Is that your heart? …OH CELESTIA THAT’S YOUR HEART. OH CELESTIA THAT’S YOUR LUNGS.” He hastily pulled his leg out and took a few steps back, staring at it as it shook like mad. “I’m gonna live in the bathroom for the next few moons,” he quietly shrieked, then bolted three-leggedly from the room.
“See?” Phalanx said, pointing out. “My wound is easily the best in the room. Oh, such a fantastic day! It’s a shame I didn’t live to see it.”
A sergeant, less squeamish than the others, stepped forward and began inspecting Phalanx’s wound. “So what happened? Really.”
“Long story. Short version: I was killed by some of the Mearhwolf’s lackeys and Amanita — you know, the necromancer — she half-resurrected me. I’m just undead right now, but I should be okay by tomorrow night.”
“Huh.” The sergeant paused, then plunged his leg deep into Phalanx’s chest. After a moment, he nodded. “Yep. Them’s intestines.” He pulled his leg out and stepped away. “Well, glad to see you’re okay. Ish.” Then he smirked. “And it only took you eleven years to get a wound you could brag about!”
Phalanx shrugged. “Hey, better late than never!”
“Yeah. ‘Late’. Bah-dum psh.”
“…I swear that wasn’t intentional.”
“We’re also taking the… undead pegasus into custody,” Pane continued. “We weren’t sure what you wanted to do with the dead earth pony, since…” He jerked his head in Amanita’s direction. “The body’s in the morgue for now.”
Code pursed her lips, then said, “Amanita, would you mind resurrecting that earth pony? I know she tried to kill you, so I understand if you’d rather not.” (Pane shivered.)
“No, I can do that,” said Amanita. “As long as it’s not right now.”
“Of course not,” said Code. “Just sometime in the next few days.” Pause. Her tone of voice became delicate. “Also, while we’re on the subject, your, ah, bounty hunter friend-”
“Bitterroot’s dead?” Code nodded, and Amanita sighed. “Sun blast it, not again.” (Pane boggled.) “I can take care of that, too, if you can get me the materials.”
“I will.”
One of the doors opened and a ritualist stepped out. “Colonel?” she said to Code. “The perps have been gathered in the foyer if you want to talk to them before the rest of the Guard gets here.”
“Thank you,” said Code. She walked over to the prisoner and gave him a light nudge. “Come on, up you go. Time to get you with your friends.” With some grumbling, the pegasus got to his hooves.
“I’ll stay out here,” said Mason. “I’m still finding ways this ritual is wrong.” He crouched down to examine one of the arcs. “It’s kinda crazy, actually.”
“Very well. I’ll send somepony to get you when we’re done here.”
Code led Amanita, Pane, and the prisoner into the mansion. They moved slowly, thanks to the prisoner’s fetters, but Code didn’t seem too put out. After a moment, Amanita looked over at Code and asked, “So… eggs?”
Code nodded, pulled one of those eggs from her bags, and held it out for Amanita to examine. “Eggs,” she declared.
Amanita took a closer look at it. It looked like an ordinary egg — although maybe it wasn’t a chicken egg. Nothing she could spot, anyway. “You don’t need to scream ‘egg’ every time you throw one, you know.”
“EGG!” Crunch. “I do know. What I don’t is care.”
Pane leaned forward and stage-whispered, “Convincing her otherwise is a losing battle. Trust me.”
“Hooray,” Amanita muttered as she wiped yolk off her face. “Do you always throw eggs at death cultists?”
“If I can,” said Code with an unbelievably straight face. “Throwing eggs at death cultists has a long, glorious history in the fight against dark magic. Eggs are representative of new life and therefore reasonably effective at disrupting ritualistic death magic, particularly for how easy it is to acquire them — and it looks silly and demoralizes the caster, to boot. Where do you think the phrase ‘egg on your face’ comes from?”
“Audience members throwing eggs at bad actors during plays.”
“…Wait, is that where it comes from?” Flicking her tail, Code frowned. “Hmm. I don’t know, honestly. Why would they carry…? Never mind. I doubted any of the ponies here would have any death magic on them, but better safe than sorry.” Pause. “Also, I like throwing eggs.”
“Hence…” Amanita nodded back at the prisoner.
“Yes.”
The quartet entered the foyer. Ritualists and other newly-arrived royal guards — all pegasi, Amanita noted — were standing watch over at least one and a half dozen fettered ponies sitting on their tails. Most of the prisoners were house guards (Code’s own prisoner took a seat among these), but three ponies had more carefully-maintained looks and far nicer clothes — nobles, probably.
Code nudged Amanita and whispered in her ear, pointing at each of those nobles in turn. “Earl Paradise Paper. Countess Emerald Eon. And Viscountess High Gloss. All insufferable. I know that from experience.”
“The kinds of ponies whose families would send them halfway across the country to get rid of them?” Amanita whispered back.
“Heh. There’s a description. Exactly.” Code cleared her throat and strode forward, casting a glare over the prisoners, mainly the nobles.
Her attitude attracted Paradise’s attention. “Are you the commanding officer of these guards?” he demanded. “We won’t stand for this!” He risked slowly getting to his hooves. “I’ll have you know, I-”
“Sit!” snapped Code.
Paradise sat.
“Good boy.”
Paradise bristled, opened his mouth, received a “try me” glare from Code, hastily shut his mouth.
Code gave the trio of nobles another lookover. “So. Three members of Equestria’s nobility. And that’s just the ones who’re here. Guilty of treason.” She shook her head. “This city never stops finding ways to surprise me.”
“Twilight is going to run this country into the dirt,” said Gloss. “Somepony-”
“I don’t care,” Code said, holding up a hoof. “No matter how much you monologue at me, it’s still treason. You’re lucky it’s Twilight you’re committing treason against. You know what Celestia did when her own sister committed treason? Sent her to the moon for a millennium. You know what Cadance did when Sombra tried to enslave the Crystal Empire? Blew him up. Twilight? You’ll probably just get prison and a very stern lecture. She’s the kind to let a necromancer operate in Canterlot, for Celestia’s sake!”
Amanita suddenly felt put on the spot, even though nopony was looking at her. Had Twilight had a direct voice in letting her work with the Guard? Or had she just authorized it? Probably the latter; the initial meeting had taken more than three hours; you’d think a princess would have a tiny bit more influence than that. But the fact that the first was even a possibility said something.
If nothing else, at least Amanita had Twilight on her side. Which… meant quite a lot.
“But let’s ignore the treason for now,” Code continued. “You did it with… You know, even without the murders, that… thing in the courtyard would’ve been aggressively awful.”
“You’re just afraid of it because it’s new,” said Gloss.
“You have no idea what you’re doing,” said Code, her voice growing louder. “You didn’t follow any rules, you didn’t take any environmental conditions into account… Did you even try?”
“Oh, please,” scoffed Gloss. “It’s just a ritual. It’s not like it’s real magic.”
One of the ritualists immediately whipped around to Code and said loudly, “You sound sick, Colonel. Why don’t you take a step outside?” He wrenched Code about to face the door and roughly shoved her out. Five seconds later, an ear-splitting screech rent the air like a demon piercing planes of reality. For a full thirty seconds.
“I must say,” Pane whispered to Amanita, “she’s taking this quite well.”
When Code came back in, she was breathing deeply and looked like she was actually sweating. “It,” she croaked. “Can be. Very. Hard.” She coughed and swallowed. “But you’re actually lucky it couldn’t have worked,” she said. “Because you know what you would’ve been guilty of otherwise? Equine sacrifice. Even Twilight doesn’t tolerate that. I’ve asked her. I’d ask, ‘What were you thinking?’, but it’s obvious you weren’t.”
“Sometimes,” Gloss sniffed, “we must do unpleasant things for the greater good.”
…
She did not just say that.
Amanita nearly shattered her teeth, she was clenching her jaw so hard. Unpleasant? Repeated, cold-blooded murder was “unpleasant”? Ha. Ha ha. HA HA HA. HA HA HA HA. Amanita knew exactly how cold your heart needed to be to think that. She’d been that pony, once. Seen it Circe, too. You would honestly need to be a sociopath for that.
Maybe Gloss would like to know that.
Before Code could say anything, Amanita stomped up to Gloss and looked her in the eye. Gloss looked back up, unimpressed. “And who do you think you are?” she demanded.
“I’m Amanita. I’m a necromancer.”
A shade of fear briefly flitted across Gloss’s face. Then she glanced at the guards and ritualists surrounding them, and she smiled masklike up at Amanita. “So what do you think you’re going to do to me?” Evidently, she thought violence was the only way to hurt somepony.
“Tell you this,” said Amanita. “You remind me of somepony.”
“Do I,” said Gloss. “You probably want me to ask ‘who’, don’t you?”
“My lich master in necromancy, Circe.”
Gloss went stiff and her ears shot back. She actually bared her teeth, growling like a chimera. “Liar,” she said reflexively. “I’m nothing like her.”
“How would you know? You never met her,” said Amanita. “No, you’re a lot like her. A lot less evil, sure, but just as petty. Because whenever she said somepony had to die, she just…” She waved a hoof away. “…did it. Killed them. But you wanna know one of the ways you’re different? She had the guts to do it herself. Have you even seen the ponies you killed?”
“I-” Gloss was panting like she’d run several miles. Her eyes, once narrowed in certainty and anger, were growing wider, more and more unsure. “I- didn’t- need- need to see them.” Pant pant. “Why, why bother?”
“You didn’t even pick criminals,” said Amanita. “Just any old pony off the street would do for you. At least Circe had the decency to start me on criminals. It was easier to pretend it was okay, then.”
“We- We’re nothing alike!” screamed Gloss. “I, what I’m doing is necessary! Plebeians like you wouldn’t understand! I’m not the same as her!”
“You are different,” said Amanita. “But I’m a necromancer and I’m not this okay with death. You’re closer to her than I am.”
Gloss degenerated completely, then, alternating between, frenzied, worried mutters and screaming expletives at Amanita. Amanita pulled her head away from Gloss’s mouth and took a step back. “Think about it while you’re in prison,” she said. “It’s all you’ll be able to do. I know from experience.”
Gloss snapped her mouth shut and glowered at Amanita. Amanita didn’t care. She’d felt the ire of far more powerful ponies and had escaped from it. After that, the impotent rage of a pony in chains barely even registered.
Then, as she walked away from Gloss, Amanita realized two things: everyone was staring at her. And she didn’t care.
A pair of earth ponies in Guard armor galloped through the remains of the front door and came to a halt in front of Code. “The reinforcements you requested are here, Colonel ma’am,” one of them said, saluting.
Code looked out through the doorway, then grinned. “They are. Excellent.” She turned back to the room and roared, “Alright, ponies, strike a pose! This is the most famous you’ll ever be!”
Silence fell over the mansion. Several ritualists looked at each other. Someone muttered, “Friggernaffy.”
“Glory hounds,” said Code, posing most magnificently.