//------------------------------// // Night Owls // Story: Clockwork City // by achu //------------------------------// Blackwing soared across the clear night sky; the celestial bodies lit his way as he flew above the sleeping town. Remnants of smoke drifted into the sky from a few chimneys and all lights, save for the street lamps on the main streets, were turned off. He wasn’t sure why he had decided to meet this stranger. Out of curiosity? She seemed familiar, of course, but such things happened when you travel a lot. Yet there was something intriguing about it. A nagging feeling, that if he had stayed at Tank's house, he'd miss something important. He knew he wasn’t sleepy anyways; Blackwing had never been one to go to bed early and it felt good to fly in silence, accompanied only by Luna’s moon. Or he thought. But there was another winged silhouette in the night sky. Hiding behind chimneys, just out of his field of view, a pair of purple eyes followed him with curiosity and suspicion. Unaware, Blackwing flew steadily towards the edge of the forest. He soon noticed a huge fallen tree; the dead, leafless branches and moss covering large parts of the bark suggested that the log had been lying there for years. A sign over the entrance with a vial of some liquid and a stem with a couple of leafs suggested that the tree was a house for somepony. Warm candle light glowed inside, just visible through the drawn curtains in the windows. Blackwing landed before the entrance and knocked. As the door opened, he saw the green-coated unicorn mare he had seen before, both in the town hall and the market. “Oh good, you’re exactly on time. I’ve just boiled some water. Would you like some tea? Or maybe some coffee?” Crystal Vial noticed Blackwing’s puzzled impression. "Crystal Vial?" he asked, slightly confused. “Yes that's me. Please, come in. I’m going to explain everything in a minute.” Blackwing nodded and entered the tree house. Inside was a big room, with lots of bottles and jars on shelves and a shop desk. Crystal pointed him towards a doorway that led to the living room. “Make yourself at home. What would you like to drink?” Her accent sounded radically different from the other citizens of Shadington; it sounded so Canterlotian. “Coffee, please,” Blackwing answered and she nodded and went through a different doorway, presumably to the kitchen. He entered the large, but cozy room with a fireplace, some shelves with bottles and books, armchairs, and a round table made of oak standing in the center. Blackwing took a place in one of the armchairs and soon, Crystal Vial joined him, levitating a tray with two cups, sugar, and cream in front of her. She placed the tray on the table with a little cling and sat down. “I’m surprised you came. My invitation must have looked rather suspicious,” Crystal started, levitating a cup of tea to her muzzle. Blackwing noticed that she was older than him, rather slim and tall; her voice was quite low for a mare and her cutie mark was identical to the sign above her shop’s entrance – a vial and some herbs. “But the fact that you're here, proves I was right.” Blackwing nodded as he added some cream to his coffee. “Probably. The moment I met you in the town hall I knew I had seen you before. Are you from Canterlot? Crystal smiled inscrutably. “What’s your name?” “Blackwing. I’m from Canterlot.” Crystal lowered her teacup and looked him deeply in the eyes. “Have you had any unusual dreams lately, Mr. Blackwing?” He froze. “Why do you ask?” Crystal gazed down at her cup, as if she were observing something on the surface of the tea. “When I left the town hall, I stopped and stood there in the town square for a few minutes, trying to remember where I'd seen you before. I figured that we'd met in a dream realm.” “What dream do you have in mind?” “I’ve had the same dream for a few weeks now. I run somewhere and I know I have to warn somepony. And I wake up before doing it. But the last night was different. I reached my destination. I was running until I reached and warned you. Then I woke up.” This time Blackwing really was shocked. Answers should come to you, she had said. “And what exactly did you warn me about?” “Nothing specific, something like ‘Watch out!’ or ‘Run!’,” Crystal answered and took a sip of her tea. Her posture and the way she spoke seemed casual, but really she was observing her guest very closely. “But you haven’t answered my question. Have you had any strange dreams lately? Perhaps ones that relate to those of mine?” Blackwing hesitated for a moment. This mare couldn’t be considered trustworthy, at least not yet. “I usually forget my dreams when I wake up.” He paused and took a sip from his cup. “Tell me, what made you so enraged at the town hall? I thought you’d tear the receptionist to pieces.” Blackwing decided that he should buy himself some time. Get to know her better. Crystal Vial was not one to be deceived easily, but she agreed to play along. “Oh, it’s that Sawbones again. I’m a herbalist and he's the local doctor. Long story short, he disapproves of my methods and hates me personally, so he tells other ponies terrible things about me.” A small town in a deep province, ponies with conservative views – probably the worst place to practice unconventional medicine, Blackwing thought to himself. He had always enjoyed his travels and usually found the Equestrian provinces charmingly rustic, but such situations made him appreciate Canterlot that much more. “I always come to the mayor to ask him for help as an authority here, but he ignores me. He probably knows I don’t like him.” Blackwing’s ears twitched. “Really? You don’t like mayor Steamhorn?” “Well, yes… why do you ask?” “It’s still my first day in this town, but you’re not the first pony who admits that.” “I know that most citizens of Shadington think that he’s great, both as an official and artificer. But to me, he's suspicious and I think his rise to power was too quick, especially for a stranger.” She was looking somewhere over Blackwings’ shoulder, giving him a hint that she wasn’t telling everything. Soon her eyes returned to him. “But you've successfully dragged me from the main subject of our little get-together and I don’t like that.” Blackwing sighed. “Don’t get me wrong but… to me you’re a stranger. One who puts messages in saddlebags with the skill of a pickpocket, who asks me to meet them after dark, and then talks about dreams and visions. Not sure if I trust you.” Crystal Vial chuckled. Her laugh was strange, warm, but not happy. “Understandable, I suppose. But if you’re so suspicious, why did you take a drink from me? You know I’m an herbalist.” Blackwing looked at her with an expression of horror. She chuckled again, a bit warmer this time. “A terrible joke of me, but I couldn’t help myself. Sorry. Sawbones spreads rumors about me putting terrible things in my potions and it’s made me develop a dark sense of humor.” Blackwing still stared at his cup of coffee despite Crystal’s reassurance. “So I’ve heard. Some even say you’re a witch.” Convinced that his drink was safe, he resumed drinking. Crystal smiled, but in a sad way. Blackwing guessed that there was something else upsetting the herbalist than just silly talk about witches among townsfolk. “Usually, I just try to make fun of it, but sometimes…” She paused, looking somewhere among his shoulder. “A witch, huh? Oh, never mind. You’ve eluded me again, haven’t you? You’re good at this.” Crystal smiled again, a bit more merrily. Blackwing smiled back. “Thanks. There’s a reason I’m not sharing everything with you just yet. I’ll make up for it in a moment.” He paused, concentrating on something. “I told you I came from Canterlot, but you’re the first pony to not ask me why.” The mare raised an eyebrow. “No, I didn’t. Should I?” “Probably. But I couldn’t tell you everything anyways. At least not until I hear your story. For now, let’s just say I’m on official state business. That’s more than I’ve told anypony else here so far.” Crystal was observing him even more closely, obviously intrigued. “Miss Vial, you’re not from Shadington. What brought you here?” Crystal’s sad expression returned. “My grandparents lived here. I was born in Balefast, but my parents moved to Canterlot when I was still a foal. I grew up in the capital.” “All right, that explains the accent,” Blackwing mumbled to himself. “I was in the school for gifted unicorns. I graduated, but not with very good results.” Crystal was looking down at her empty teacup, as if she were watching the scenes from her past in the bottom of the cup. “I always wanted to be a wizard, but my talent was nothing compared to others. Especially if you consider unicorns like, oh I don’t know, Twilight Sparkle for example.” Blackwing managed not to drop his cup on the floor. “You were at school with Twilight Sparkle? As in the Twilight Sparkle, The Element of Magic?” He stared at her blankly. Crystal sighed. “Yes. She’s one year younger than me. And she wasn’t the only one with talents superior to mine.” She paused, remembering something. She levitated her empty cup to the table where it landed with a quiet cling. “I had to face the fact that I was not going to be a wizard, even if my diploma suggested otherwise. I wouldn’t stand being mediocre.” “Graduating from Princess Celestia’s school for gifted unicorns is far from mediocrity,” Blackwing pointed out, but Crystal just ignored him. “There was one thing I was really good at. Probably the best out of all the students. Elixirs, and alchemy in general.” A spark of pride glowed in her eyes as she spoke. “I decided to hold on to that and became an herbalist. And I thought; where could an herbalist have a better chance at work than in a deep province. Few doctors, lots of useful plants everywhere. I returned to the land my family came from.” Crystal’s voice tuned in a bitter note. “Not such a great idea it seems. And now they’re calling me a witch… what a mockery.” Silence reigned for a minute or two. For Blackwing it was obvious, that with her qualifications, Crystal had chosen the worst place to live in Equestria. Immediately he started imagining her as an alchemy teacher, or as a member of the Royal Academy of Science. He guessed that there must had been something more to it. Something that had made her move to this Celestia forsaken town. “Is that all you wanted to know, Mr. Blackwing?” She asked, interrupting his train of thought. “Not really. And please, just ‘Blackwing’.” He smiled as Crystal nodded. “I’d like to hear more of your opinion about the mayor.” “Oh, him…” She remained quiet for a couple of minutes as she tried to verbalize her thoughts. “They say that his machines never break down. I have even heard that he fuels his devices with magic. And that would be against the law, wouldn’t it?” Blackwing nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard that too,” he agreed. “And not just from anypony, but from Mr. Gearbox, the mechanic.” “But that’s not what concerns me the most.” Crystal rose from her seat and walked to the window. She stood there for a minute in silence. The only audible sound was the fire cracking in the fireplace until she spoke again. “I’ve told you that my grandparents were from Shadington. I wanted to learn something more about the history of their hometown. Since there’s no library here…” “You wanted access to the archives at the town hall,” Blackwing finished for her. Crystal turned from the window to face him again. “Exactly. I was using the archives for a week, and when I came back after a weekend, the receptionist wouldn’t let me in.” “You needed the mayor’s written permission?” He gave her a sly smile. “Yes. Is that what you were trying to do today? Access the archives?” She asked and Blackwing nodded. “I see… well, I had been luckier than you, at least for a little while. I was given the permission, but I had to renew it every time I wanted to access the archives.” Crystal returned to her seat and continued. “It worked. I continued my studies but something was wrong. Publications were disappearing, others were censored and then, one day, they refused to renew my permission.” Blackwing eyed her warily. “Are you trying to say—” “I think that there is, or was something in those archives that mayor Steamhorn wanted to keep to himself,” She interrupted, lowering her voice almost to a whisper as if somepony else was listening. “I had been reading about the town’s history, its development, former mayors, and there was something Steamhorn didn’t want me to know.” Silence fell in the room, yet the air between the two ponies was so thick that one could slice it with a knife. For Blackwing, it was one of these moments when he didn’t know if he should be more excited or worried. Crystal Vial, on the other hoof, couldn’t fight off the joy of being taken seriously and understood. If she had shared any of this with somepony of the locals, she’d become a laughing stock. Yet she knew that the matter remained grave. After a couple of minutes Blackwing broke the silence. “Miss Vial—” “Just Crystal please.” She smiled sheepishly, which looked unusual on her serious, adult face. Blackwing nodded. “Of course. Crystal, do you know who the first mayor of Shadington was?” She tried to recall something for a moment, but soon gave up on it with no effect. “No, I’m afraid I hadn’t reached that part of the archives before my permission was revoked.” He gave her an inscrutable smile. “Then let me tell you a little bit about history. And about dreams, too.” - - - - - It was well past midnight. Crystal had made more tea and brought some snacks for them while he talked. For the last hour Blackwing had talked about his work; his mission, Steamwand, the ‘Steam Key’, and his ‘prophetic’ dream. Maybe he had been a little reckless, sharing everything like that, but it felt really good to simply trust somepony. At first Crystal had been a little dumbfounded when she had heard that the Princess of the Night herself had some interest in this little town. However, after Blackwing had shared the reasons for that with her, she became even more worried than before. “Well then,” Crystal lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “If you’re such a stealth specialist, why don’t you simply sneak into the town hall and look for clues or browse through the archives.” “Oh, I don’t know. If something really important was there, wouldn’t Steamhorn have removed it from the archives long ago,” Blackwing responded in a similar whisper, then realized. “Why are we whispering? You think somepony might be listening?” Crystal Vial looked nervously around. “No no, of course not. I think I just got carried away.” She gave him an insecure smile. “Well then,” Blackwing rose from his armchair, “I’ll consider it. But for now, I should go. It’s really late.” “We only know that something’s wrong and we should stay vigilant. But we know nothing for certain,” Crystal said, with a little hint of irritation. “You need to find out more Blackwing. And you can count on my help.” He nodded. “I appreciate your aid.” He glanced through the window at the clear night sky. “I hope that my boss will be able to share some more information. I have no real idea what we should be looking for right now.” Crystal Vial walked her guest to the door. Blackwing thanked her for the tea as he took off. A gentle, cool breeze was blowing and the stars shined perfectly in the cloudless night sky. It was something he always missed in Canterlot – the sky in the countryside was clearer and darker, even more beautiful. Usually flying under Luna’s moon helped him to clear his mind, but this time there were just too many questions and too few answers. Blackwing didn’t know if he would be able to fall asleep this night. It wouldn’t have helped him either if he had known that a pair of purple eyes were following him as he flew all the way home. - - - - - “Blackwing really likes to sleep in, doesn’t he?” Cold Pint was busy washing the dishes, while Tankard, seated by the table, browsed through the local newspaper. “Well, he’s just missed some great pancakes.” Miss Maury’s gambit had inspired Coldie and this morning she had woken up with a strong desire for pancakes. “U-huh.” Tank nodded, completely absorbed by some article about woodworking. Soon, the loud sound of knocking broke his concentration. “They’re here.” Both siblings rushed to the door to greet their guests, Gearbox and Sprocket. The mechanic had walked his son to Tank and Coldie’s house while on his way to the docks where Mr. Paddle was waiting for him. Sprocket’s face was a mixture of fear, longing, anxiety, and excitement. His dad was leaving him, indefinitely in fact, but also it was his first time sleeping away from home. Tankard was huge and a bit scary for the little pony, but Gearbox had assured his son that his ‘sham’ is the best pony in Equestria to have fun with; so Sprocket hoped for a lot of good time. School was over and he had nearly two months of holidays ahead of him. The only thing he was really afraid of was spending all of it without his dad. Coldie, unhappy with the colt’s expression, was quick to assure him that everything was going to be okay and that he wouldn’t even notice when his father’s absence was over. Gearbox left Sprocket’s baggage, said his farewells, and started out. This day wasn’t as sunny as the afternoon the day before; clouds covered most of the sky. Gearbox wasn’t afraid of rain; he’d brought his raincoat with him. However, even though it wasn’t raining yet, his face felt a little wet already. Mr. Gearbox, busy with his thoughts, didn’t spot a young, white-coated pegasus soaring through the sky above him. Memento Maury was in trouble – first, she had overslept and had been very late to work. The chief of the weather team, Heavy Rain, had been very upset about it, as usual. She’d been used to Memento’s delays and this time she had prepared some extra work for the young flyer. Now Memento not only had to clear big parts of the sky, she also had to move some of the clouds above the Fields – the agricultural district of Shadington, make it rain there, and then keep out the clouds coming over from Everfree forest for the remainder of the day. Memento hadn’t had time for breakfast and now, in order to find some time for a lunch break, she had to work at the highest pace. With a serious case of rumble, she headed towards the western edge of town where she was supposed to start clearing the sky. It had been her favorite place around Shadington. Not far from the last buildings, slightly hidden in the woods, was an abandoned graveyard, centuries old, and Memento loved it. She enjoyed examining the tombstones (many severely eroded or covered by moss), deciphering their inscriptions, admiring the old sculptures. She even remembered the names of some of the dwellers. It was also a perfect place to have a walk, read some gothic or decadent poetry, or simply relax in peace as nopony else would ever visit the forgotten cemetery. Well usually at least. This time, as Memento flew by the graveyard, she could’ve sworn that she had seen somepony behind one of the biggest tombs. She looked again, but couldn’t spot the figure a second time. Normally she would investigate; Memento didn’t like the thought of somepony invading her solitude. But this time, unfortunately, she had another crisis at hand, as her rumble was starting to sound like a snore of a dragon. - - - - - Comet opened the heavy door to Luna’s private chambers and entered. His and Full Moon’s shift had started about a quarter ago, and they had been told that the princess was very busy and had been hard at work the whole night. He had to squeeze his way between stacks of books in order to enter the living room where her majesty, who had called for assistance, waited. When Comet eventually reached his destination, he saw an image of complete chaos, as if Discord himself, not the princess, was working here. There were books, notes, papers lying everywhere, and he could’ve sworn that a tornado must have passed through the room just recently. In the middle of all the mess, surrounded by about a dozen of completely burnt-out candles, sat Luna herself, a pair of glasses on her nose and a very weary expression on her face. Comet saluted. “Ma’am.” “Ah, Comet, welcome,” princess Luna greeted him casually, busy with other thoughts as usual. Her eyes were tired but pleased by the sight of a familiar face, like a castaway finally rescued – from an ocean of paper. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, yes I am tired. I may be immortal, but in no way am I indefatigable. Look, I—” Luna was interrupted by a scroll that materialized right in front of her and gently fell on a pile of other papers. “Now thank you very much Blackwing! That’s exactly what I needed, more reading!” She was almost shouting in her irritation, but a second later, gave way to the overwhelming fatigue. Luna sighed deeply. “I need some help Comet.” Just like most of the Night Guardians, Comet liked the princess very much, cared for her in a way and, at that moment, he was really worried about her condition. He wanted to assure her that any kind of help would be delivered in no time. “Of course...” “This research is too much for me, at least given the little amount of time we have.” Luna sat in front of him, staring helplessly at the stacks of notes in front of her. “We need a professional here.” She took off her glasses and closed her eyes for a few seconds, trying to give them some substitute for actual rest. “Do you want me to get you somepony from the Royal Academy of Science and Culture? Or from the Canterlot University? Or both?” “No Comet. I want you to get me Twilight Sparkle.” - - - - - The sun had already began to set when Cold Pint and Sprocket let Blackwing have a break and go to his bedroom to rest. For the last couple of hours, he had been entertaining them with various stories about Canterlot, his adventures, the royal palace and the princesses; and they never seemed to get enough. When he finally reached his room, a familiar looking scroll materialized and fell onto the floor in front of him. Excited to hear Luna’s response, he grabbed, opened, and started to read it. Dear C. I am pleased to hear that you have found such a skilled and useful ally as this Crystal Vial. She has helped us already and, as she had appeared in your dream, this unicorn will probably have some important role yet to play. However, what Crystal Vial revealed to you about this Steamhorn is rather disturbing. You should find out if there is any connection between him and Steamwand and what information he is trying to hide. The fact that he is away may create a good opportunity for you. As for the unicorn colt, Sprocket, keep an eye on him. Your current mission is our top priority, but after it is complete, we’ll take care about him and his talents. If Sprocket is really as strong in magic as you believe, I’d have him studying at the school for gifted unicorns in Canterlot rather than trying to develop his abilities on his own in the farthest corner of Equestria. It will probably disappoint you that I haven’t found any seemingly relevant, new information during my research. The only thing I have found is information of the last project Steamwand was working on before his disappearance. It involved some sort of self-propelled magical machines that were supposed to help ponies in agriculture, industry, and hard labor. I don’t know if this will be of any use, but at the moment I’m stuck under a ton of books and I’m doing the best I can. But there is hardly any information about Steamwand or anything relating to him in any way. Hopefully, I will soon have somepony to help me with the research and I’ll be able to provide you with some more information. Please thank Crystal Vial on my behalf and assure her that she will be rewarded for her help. Your hosts may turn out to be helpful too, continue your good relations with them. For now, concentrate on finding any actual clues about Steamwand being the mayor of Shadington and any connection it could have to the current mayor. Be well, Yours, L. All the clues so far pointed towards one place: the damned town archives. Blackwing sighed. When he had packed his saddlebags last Wednesday afternoon, he had really hoped for some nice and easy historic research for a change. On the other hoof, sneaking had always been ‘his thing’, that’s why Luna had picked him for these kinds of jobs. Blackwing smiled to himself. “Guess there ain’t no rest for the wicked,” He said as he gave Cameron a smug look. The chameleon stretched his forelegs; as usual he had been sleeping for the most of the day. When Blackwing reached for his black, hooded cape, Cam already knew what was going on. He crawled on his back and hid himself under the cape. Blackwing turned to him and smiled. “Partners in crime, huh?” Cam nodded in agreement. Blackwing approached the door and placed his ear to it. It seemed that both siblings and Sprocket were in their bedrooms. The colt, who had been given the room opposite to Blackwing’s, was already snoring quietly. Blackwing walked to the window. It was rather dark, though some last traces of the sun were still visible as an orange glow over the horizon. He jumped on the windowsill and took off. He was flying along the Sawyers’ street, towards the town square, traveling from one rooftop to another as he tried to stay out of sight. The streets were almost empty, but there were still a few ponies out there who could possibly see him if he were careless. Soon he reached the town square and, from behind a chimney of some tall house, Blackwing observed the town hall. The square was empty, all of the town hall’s windows were dark; the building was apparently closed for the night, or perhaps for the whole weekend. Blackwing circled the square from the west, still keeping to the rooftops, and landed behind the town hall. In a dark alley behind the building, Blackwing found the rear entrance. The place appeared safe, so he approached the door and reached to the lock with his hoof. Cameron crawled out from under the cape and walked up Blackwing’s foreleg to the door. The chameleon stuck his right foreleg inside the lock and started rummaging about. After about a dozen seconds, something clicked inside the lock. Blackwing sat Cam on the ground and carefully opened the door a little bit. The chameleon peeked inside, then looked at the pegasus and nodded. Blackwing grabbed him with his muzzle and put him on his back before they cautiously entered the building. When he closed the door behind him, Blackwing was immediately seized by darkness. He stood still for a couple of minutes, letting his eyes adapt to the dark and listened to his surroundings. When he was sure that the building is completely silent, Blackwing proceeded forwards. He walked through a short and tight corridor and opened another door. Judging by the brooms, buckets, and brushes everywhere, he was in some kind of an utility room. It was large, and there were lots of lockers, shelves, cases, and a pair of doors along the walls. Behind one of them, Blackwing found a compartment with even more brooms, rags, and cleaning products. The other door led to a broad corridor he recognized as the main hallway. In the hall, there was a staircase, leading to the upper floors and the thing Blackwing needed the most: a big board with numbers of floors, rooms, and information about what could be found inside them. With some effort, he managed to find the archives on the board in the darkness. The letters were convex and he was using his touch, rather than his sight, to read. Archives, second floor, room number 217. Blackwing, cautiously walked up the stairs, but it seemed that the town hall really was empty. On the second floor, a long corridor with rows of doors on each side greeted him though he found room number 217 easily. The door was closed, but the simple lock was no challenge for Cameron. They entered the archives carefully, Blackwing closed the door behind him quietly and Cam jumped off his back. It had gotten late, moonlight poured through the windows. The big, oblong room was full of shelves packed with books and documents. There were also a couple of old desks and a ladder for reaching the top shelves. “Piece of cake,” Blackwing said as he looked around with satisfaction before he turned to the chameleon. Cam just shrugged with a bored expression, as if he wanted to tell his owner that it was pointless to state the obvious. Blackwing half-opened one of the windows as an emergency escape route, then took an oil lamp from one of the desks and lit it up before he dove between the rows of shelves. - - - - - Loud and impatient knocking on the front door woke Cold Pint up from her sleep. She rubbed her eyes and took a look at an old wooden clock that hung on the opposite wall of her bedroom. It was midnight; she had gone to bed about an hour ago. At first, she was ready to turn Tank’s life into living hell, for waking her up again, but then she remembered that her brother hadn’t gone anywhere this evening. Irritated, but also a bit curious, Coldie grabbed her nightgown and rushed to the door. In the dining room, she met Tankard, who had also been woken by the knocking as he rubbed his eyes and looked about in confusion. The knocking didn’t stop and Coldie, now more awake, realized that it could wake up Sprocket and putting children to sleep wasn’t something she had any experience with. When she opened the door, Cold Pint stood face to face with the one pony she didn’t expect at all. “Memento?!” She was staring at her childhood friend, mouth agape. “Good evening,” Memento greeted her as if this were a casual afternoon visit. “What are you… I don’t even…” Coldie stammered, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry for waking you up, but we need to talk.” Memento’s big, purple eyes were full of determination. “Can I come in?” - - - - - Blackwing was browsing through some of the archived issues of the local newspaper; so absorbed was he by it that he let his guard down. He hadn't hear the hoofsteps from the hall. Luckily Cameron was alert. He prodded Blackwing and the pegasus’ ears twitched. He heard it. A quiet sound of slow, careful steps. Somepony was sneaking towards the door of the archives. Quickly and as silently as possible, Blackwing grabbed the newspaper he’d been reading and helped Cameron climb onto his back. He left the lamp lit; if he turned it off, that somepony by the door would understand that the intruders were aware of his, or her, presence. Blackwing jumped through the previously opened window and took to the skies. He chose a long way home, in case that somepony who had almost nabbed him was a pegasus. Blackwing flew westward, towards the forest, then northwards, between the treetops. When he was sure that nopony was following him, he flew straight towards Tankard and Cold Pint’s house. He landed in his bedroom, next to the bed and stopped to listen. To his surprise, the siblings weren’t asleep. Blackwing heard a conversation taking place in the dining room. He decided to get into bed and pretend that he had been asleep all along, when a different sound attracted his attention. Blackwing thought that maybe he had misheard, but after a moment, he heard it again. He looked in the direction of the sound and saw a small pebble, levitating just outside the window, rhythmically hitting the glass. Blackwing slowly walked to the window and peeked outside to see the familiar green-coated unicorn mare. Crystal Vial was standing there, on the street, waving to him. “Come down here!,” she exclaimed in a theatrical whisper. Blackwing did as she asked and landed next to her. “What are you doing here? How did you know that was my window?” “I saw you fly inside, just a while ago,” Crystal explained. “Fine, why did you come here?” “I think we might be in trouble,” she answered, a worried expression crossing her face. “I was watering my plants today...” “Sounds troublesome,” Blackwing mumbled. “...and I noticed that the petunias under my living room window were ruined.” “Seriously Crystal?” He rolled his eyes. “Blackwing! Somepony was standing, or sitting on them.” Crystal looked him in the eyes, a very serious expression crossing her face. “Somepony was eavesdropping on us last night!” Blackwing didn’t have enough time to feel properly surprised or stunned. As Crystal finished, they heard an indifferent voice from above. “See? I was right.” Memento Maury and Cold Pint stood in the bedroom window looking down at them. Crystal and Blackwing both looked up, terrified, like a pair of kids caught stealing apples from the orchard. Coldie addressed him, an expression of disbelief and disappointment crossing her face. “What is this supposed to mean?” Blackwing and Crystal exchanged concerned looks, both trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. Blackwing sighed as he gave up. “Let’s talk inside, alright?”