//------------------------------// // Magic Studies // Story: Thweet Geniuth // by JMac //------------------------------//  Thweet Geniuth Chapter 4  Magic Studies       “Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah!”         The candle on the table in front of Sweetie Belle lit.                      It was just a tiny candle and a very small flame, barely strong enough to keep the candle alight, but Sweetie Belle threw her forelegs in the air and cried “I did it!”                      Her shout blew the candle out.                      "Dumb candle,” grumbled Sweetie Belle.                      “Don’t worry about it,” said Twilight Sparkle.  “And congratulations.  Was that really your first deliberate spell?”                      “Yeah, everything else I’ve done was kinda an accident.”                      “We’ll want to avoid any future accidents,” said Twilight, pointedly.  “Anyway, try again.  Put a little more into it this time.”                      Sweetie Belle concentrated on her candle and sang again, this time much more loudly.                      The flame rose high over the table, and half the candle melted away.                      “Oooooh-kay,” said Twilight, making notes.  “Song volume equates directly to spell power, but you don’t know the exact relationship…”                      “Sometimes I’m louder that I want to be,” said Sweetie Belle, shyly.                      “Until you have more precise control of that I don’t want you casting any spells without my supervision,” said Twilight.  “Seriously, I can’t imagine what you girls were thinking.  Experimenting with magic is so dangerous!  When you don’t know what you’re doing anything can happen.  Before you know it you’ve done something horrible, like turning your parents into potted plants!”                      Sweetie Belle shuddered.  Or you vaporized your friend, or you get stuck in a wall you’re walking through. “Let’s try some levitation now,” said Twilight.  “Come over here, and move your candle to my desk.”                      Sweetie Belle went and stood next to Twilight.  “Ah-ah, ah-ah, Ah!” she sang, reaching out to the candle.  A bright blue aura surrounded the candle, but it did not move.  Sweetie Belle sang again, “Come to me, little candle, pretty little candle, come here to me…”                      The candle floated across the room and settled on the desk next to Sweetie Belle.                      “That’s amazing!” exclaimed Twilight.  “And you can’t do any magic at all without singing?”                      Sweetie Belle shook her head.  “I can’t even make my horn glow.”                      “I have no idea how this works,” said Twilight.  “I can teach you some basic spells, but eventually we are going to have to talk to an expert.  There’s a stallion named Foster; he’s the Dean of Experimental and Nontraditional magic at Canterlot U.  He’s written about using music as a focusing tool for magic.  I would really like to consult with him before I proceed.”                      “Do you have to, Twilight?” whined Sweetie Belle.  “I just want to learn a little magic.  I don’t want to be studied!”                      “Nopony is going to treat you like a lab rat, Sweetie Belle, I promise,” said Twilight.  “But with magic, what you don’t know can hurt you.  I need to be careful until I learn more.  And, I feel I need to remind you, you haven’t been very careful!”                      Oh, here comes the lecture, thought Sweetie Belle.                      “You should have come directly to me when Quiz discovered your talent,” said Twilight.  “Instead you played around with it, as if magic were a game.  You tried using song lyrics as an incantation; that was Quiz’s idea, wasn’t it?”                      “It... might have been,” said Sweetie Belle.  She didn’t want to let Quiz have any more blame.  Sweetie Belle suspected that the stern words Twilight had for her were nothing compared to what Quiz got.                      “And this nonsense about using gems as magic amplifiers!  How that could have gone wrong… well that’s just too dreadful to think about!  Don’t even try to tell me you thought that up on your own, Sweetie Belle.”                      “It wasn’t all Quiz’s fault,” said Sweetie Belle, softly.  “And if I hadn’t tried using gems we would have never saved Quiz.  Quiz would have… she would have…”  Sweetie Belle couldn’t finish the sentence.                      “There, there,” said Twilight, giving Sweetie Belle a hug.  “We’ll stop thinking about that, or you’ll have us both crying.”                      The plaintive cry from Spike in the next room came as a welcome interruption.  “Twilight?  Little help?”                      Spike entered, sporting a luxurious, golden blonde mane.                      Quiz followed soon after.  “Um… Miss Twilight?  I believe we shall require you to undo one of my spells.”                      “Just look what she did to me!” shouted Spike, handfuls of hair in each fist.                      Sweetie Belle turned away, and was beginning to emit little strangled squeaks as she fought off the laughter.                      “I did try to discourage you from volunteering,” said Quiz.  “I am just beginning to practice this spell.”                      “Yeah, well, you also said I’d get a goatee and a mustache!”  Then Spike caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror.  “Though, this actually looks pretty good…”  He began tossing his mane back and forth.                      “That’s enough of that,” grumbled Twilight.  With a ‘pop’ Spike was restored to normal.                      “Aww,” groused Spike.  “You know, Quiz, maybe you should go back to practicing teleportation.”                      Quiz looked horrified (at least, within Quiz’s ability to express horror).  “Oh, no thank you, please.”                      Quiz could not teleport.  Her last attempt had resulted in her disappearing, then almost instantly reappearing, apparently standing in exactly the same spot.  Spike had found, from a chalk mark he’d made in front of her right front hoof, that Quiz had in fact moved.  But her forward progress was less than the thickness of the chalk mark.  This effort had left Quiz feeling ill for hours afterward.                      “There will be no more teleportation practice,” stated Twilight.  “In fact there will be no magic practice at all, until you regain your focus, Quiz.  Your spell failure wasn’t from lack of practice.  You are distracted.  And I know just what is distracting you.”                      “I do not know what you mean, Miss Twilight…” protested Quiz.                      “You gave Spike Grand Chef Éclair’s hairdo, Quiz,” said Twilight.                      “Oh,” muttered Quiz.                      “I thought we’d settled this,” said Twilight.  “Quiz, you cannot slander a prominent pony like the Grand Chef based on what you heard!  Twitcher’s Useful Amplifier is a new spell for you, it’s likely you just misheard the conversation.  You couldn’t see either speaker, so you could be taking the whole thing out of context.  And even if you did hear and interpret every word correctly all you really heard was the Grand Chef saying he was unhappy.  Why you insist that any of this is proof of a conspiracy to smear Twist is beyond me!”                      “The Grand Chef is kind of mean…” began Sweetie Belle.                      “Oh, he comes off as mean and arrogant, and he’s quick with a put down,” said Twilight.  “But that’s only his on stage persona, that’s all part of the show.  The Grand Chef isn’t a villain, he just pretends to be one.  Now I don’t want to hear another word about this.”                      “Yes, Miss Twilight,” said Quiz, sadly.                      “Twilight sighed.  “I think we’re done for today.  You girls can have the rest of the afternoon off.” . #              “I think I had a pretty good day,” observed Sweetie Belle, as the two fillies walked away from the library.  “I cast my first real spells!  I’ll never be as good as you, Quiz, but I feel as if I can cast any spell that Twilight teaches me.”                      “Do not underestimate your potential, Sweetie Belle,” said Quiz.  “And do not assume you cannot be as good or better than I.”                      “Don’t be silly, Quiz,” said Sweetie Belle.  “You’re the real magician.  I just want to sing, and maybe design stuff someday, like Rarity.”                      Quiz chose not to pursue this.  Instead she offered an observation she thought Sweetie Belle would appreciate.  “Your magic aura is very pretty.  Much prettier than mine.”                      “It is pretty, isn’t it?” mused Sweetie Belle.  “It’s an even brighter blue than Rarity’s.  But your magic is pretty, too, Quiz.”                      “My magic aura is beige, Sweetie Bell,” said Quiz.                     “ It is not!” said Sweetie Belle, indignantly.  “Rarity says it’s a pale shade of sandy salmon.”                      “That would be beige,” said Quiz.                      Sweetie Belle gave up, and changed the subject.  “Quiz, I think all of Twilight’s scary talk about what happens when magic goes wrong is getting to me.  I’ve been thinking about our ‘experiment’ out on the barrens.” Suddenly worried, Sweetie Belle frowned and chewed her lip.  “You said that we both destroyed and didn’t destroy that emerald.  I’ve been thinking about the same thing happening to you, Quiz.  What if we both vaporized and didn’t vaporize you?  That’s going to give me nightmares.” “Perhaps this thought will be comforting then,” said Quiz.  “We merged two parallel realities.  In one, I might have been both vaporized and not vaporized.  In the other I was not vaporized and also vaporized.  In both I still persist.” “I think the headache I’ll get trying to figure out what you just said is not going to help me sleep,” said Sweetie Belle. “Headaches are a common complaint among theoretical magicians,” said Quiz.  “But if you cannot sleep, our library has many fine volumes on quantum magic theory.  I could come and read one to you.  You will soon be fast asleep.” Sweetie Belle giggled.  “Sometimes it’s hard to tell when you are making a joke, Quiz.” “I would hope that you could tell from the fact that I had just said something funny,” said Quiz. “Yes, Quiz, you would think it would be that simple,” said Sweetie Belle, rolling her eyes. This called for another change of topic.  “So, are you going to take Twilight’s advice, and stop worrying about this conspiracy against Twist?” “Miss Twilight raised many correct points,” said Quiz.  “There is no proof of any conspiracy.” “Then you’re going to forget all about it?” “Absolutely not,” said Quiz.  “I know what I heard.” They came to Bon Bon’s Sweet Shop, where the mail was being delivered. “Hello, Miss Derpy,” said Quiz.  “Is there any word from Manehattan?” “Hi, Quiz,” said Derpy.  “Gee, you're almost as worried about Twist’s mail as Twist.  But, no, nothing yet.  It’s confusing.  I’ve talked to the mail mares in Manehattan, and a contestant always gets a big package from the Grand Chef’s show.  The rule book, lots of forms, a map of the kitchen, stuff like that.  The contestant also gets invited to come to Confectionery Coliseum for a walk through.  Contestants scheduled to be on the show months after Twist have their packages, but not Twist.” Quiz and Sweetie Belle exchanged a look.  “Er… could it have been lost?” asked Sweetie Belle. Derpy shook her head.  “I checked.  It hasn’t been lost, misdirected, misfiled, returned, or sent to the dead letter office.  It just hasn’t been sent.  Something has gone wrong, and I just don’t understand it.” Twist, Scootaloo, and Dinky came out of the Sweet Shop.  “Hi, Mom!” called Dinky, “We’re all headed over to Sweet Apple Acres.  Apple Bloom says she has something to show us.” “That’s fine, Muffin,” said Derpy, “Stay out of trouble and be home for dinner.” “Apple Bloom was real exthited about it,” said Twist.  “I can’t wait to see what it ith!” “Right,” said Dinky.  “So we should hurry.”   # . Apple Bloom had converted an empty barn into a workshop.  She stood in the middle of the huge room, surrounded by low, narrow ramps. “Oh, thethe are wonderfully!” cried Twist, galloping up and down one of the ramps. “I thought you’d like these better than lugging a step ladder around like you do now,” said Apple Bloom.  “This was a good week’s work.  But the design is, whatdoyoucallit,  modular, ah think.  I figure I can fit them into most any kitchen, in about 10 minutes.  Course, it would help if I knew the layout of your kitchen in the Coliseum.” That stopped Twist dead in her tracks.  “Yeah, I think I’m thupothed to have that,” she said, unhappily.  “But it never came.” None of the fillies meet Twist’s eyes.  Quiz had not shared her concerns with Twist, who had enough to worry about just preparing for the contest.  But Quiz had told all her other friends.  They were all slowly coming to believe her. “Well, if I don’t have the proper measurements Ah’ll just eyeball it,” said Apple Bloom.  “It shouldn’t slow set up time too much.” “Thank you, Apple Bloom, thank you, thank you, thank you!” said Twist, giving her friend a big hug.  The ramps were the first good news Twist had gotten since winning the contest. They hung out for about another half hour, playing with the ramps and marveling how light they were and how easy to assemble.  Then Twist announced that she had to hurry home. “Bon Bon will be done with today's orderth, and I’ll have the kitchen to mythelf to practith.  And I need the practith!” Sweetie Belle started to get up, meaning to offer to walk home with Twist, but Scootaloo began waving wildly at her, signaling that they should wait. When Twist had left alone, Sweetie Belle turned to Scootaloo and demanded, “What?” “Just how bad do you guys want to help Twist?” asked Scootaloo. “I want this very badly indeed,” said Quiz, and the others murmured assent. “That’s what I was hoping you would say,” said Scootaloo, grinning from ear to ear.  “I think that if the contest people won’t send Twist those measurements she needs then maybe we should go and get them ourselves.” “What are you talking about, Girl?” asked Apple Bloom. “I think we should stage a ninja raid on Confectionery Coliseum!”