//------------------------------// // Chapter 5 - Apologies, Trepidition (and then a bit of Exposition) // Story: Helper Monkey // by Moonton //------------------------------// About a week had passed, and in that time much work had been done. The magically enlarged and hollowed tree had been turned into a home proper; with all the furniture placed inside and a door put on the entrance hole (Zecora had one at the bottom of the cart, as it turned out. Window frames made of sticks filled the smaller holes in the trunk, with thin cloth curtains hung on the inside. The enormous cauldron had been dragged into the centre, and since the trunk seemed to continue being hollow quite some way up, a chimney hole was drilled into the tree. (Msaidizi pointed out that having a fire inside a tree seemed like a horrendous idea, but he was ignored). In addition, both a latrine and well had been dug behind the house (far apart from each other, for obvious reasons) and several species of local herb had been planted at the clearing’s edge and allowed to grow as freely as it wanted, for an easily available source of potion ingredients. As for Msaidizi himself, three square meals a day and a warm place to sleep were having a noticeable effect on him. Although he still looked underweight it was no longer morbidly so, and thicker, dark hair had begun to grow on his chest, limbs and face. In addition the soreness and cramps in his muscles had faded and the blisters on his feet had burst, the soles toughening like leather. Things were only starting to improve purely from a physical standpoint though. Psychologically, he could have been a lot better. Ever since Zecora had slipped him that potion, he’d been feeling a wealth of negative emotions. A lot of it was a sense of betrayal at how callous the zebra could apparently be, drugging others for her own ends, along with a heap of anger at how she didn’t seem to care or even notice how painful the experience had been for him. But before these feelings could lead to any confrontation they were always throttled and replaced with a much more omnipresent feeling of fear. The fact was that he was afraid of her, afraid of the power she seemed to possess and afraid to cause complaint lest it be turned against him again. For all he knew she was one bad mood away from turning him into a frog, or something equally horrible. “I’m such a coward,” he had thought to himself in his darker moments. “Afraid of standing up to a zebra half my size! If only I could just leave and run away from it all!” But as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just leave. He’d wanted to, and spent many an hour just staring out into the forest, willing himself to run, but he couldn’t find the resolve. He had nowhere else to go, and while he was beginning to learn the many plants and animals of the forest, he was still completely incapable of surviving in the wild. If he ran he’d just end up starving to death again, or perhaps be ran down and eaten by some predator. True, that pony town was less than an hour’s walk away, but they would not help him. The first one he’d met had ran away screaming and calling him a monster, and the few he’d seen from then on had done the same, running away before he had even got a chance to say a ‘How do you do’. In essence, he was trapped. So he just kept his head down, worked hard, and always made sure to eat and drink from the same source as his mistress (so nothing could be snuck into it). Sure, the vice-like, cold grip of anxiousness he felt in his chest whenever he was in the same room as her was horrible, and he’d had trouble sleeping (even discounting the constant dreams of being watched he found himself waking up at every little sound with his heart pumping) but surely it was better than the alternative? “It could be a lot worse” he (badly) assured himself, trying and failing to suppress a yawn. “I shouldn’t complain, really.” With that thought, he pushed himself up to his feet and stretched. He’d finished all his chores early that day, so he’d spent the afternoon just lounging at the edge of the forest, reading a book he’d taken from the house (it was a book about natural remedies or something, he hadn’t been paying too much attention). All in all, it had been a pretty good day. But now the sun was starting to set, which meant that soon he had to go back to the house and cook supper. “But that’s nothing to worry about” Msaidizi hurriedly thought. “I’ve kept out of trouble. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”. The reason he’d taken to doing the cooking (apart from that it was something he seemed to enjoy doing, and that doing it was in his job description) was that he could make sure no potions or spells could be slipped into his food. He’d been extra careful to always serve his own food and drink, to never leave it unattended, and the few times Zecora had cooked he made sure to watch her hooves every step of the way, and (as stated before) only eat or drink whatever came out of the same cauldron or kettle she used for herself. Five days ago... “I’ve baked us some bread for dinner, see?” Zecora said, holding out a slice to her assistant. “Won’t you share a piece with me?” “Oh, um, thank you, miss” Msaidizi answered, fidgeting slightly. “But I’m not hungry”. She gave him a concerned look. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “You’ve said the same thing for two days long”. “Oh, no! Not at all!” Msaidizi said, waving his arms in placation as he wracked his brains for an excuse. “Everything’s fine. M-maybe I just don’t need to eat right now?” ‘Yes’, he decided. ‘This would probably work’. They both had their suspicions on what type of creature Msaidizi actually was, but neither knew for sure. He could exploit this. Ignoring the thumping of his heart, he added “Your guess is as good as mine” and made what he hoped was a nonchalant gesture. Zecora looked doubtful for a moment, but eventually conceded his point with a shrug. She stuffed the slice she was holding into her mouth before turning away to cut another, and behind her back Msaidizi sighed in relief. Two days ago... “I really don’t mind making the tea as well, miss.” Msaidizi argued. “I already do the cooking, it would be no bother!” “But neither is making tea much effort for me!” Zecora countered. “Besides, you are my assistant. If I let you do all the work that would make me quite the jerk” she added with a smirk, filling a cup and passing it over. There was a few seconds of silence as the pair just stared at one another, before Msaidizi realised that she was waiting for him to take a sip. Probably to see whether he liked the taste or not, or perhaps (the increasingly paranoid half of him whispered) to see the effects of whatever she had spiked it with. He couldn’t drink it. He mustn’t. But he had to, she was watching. Slowly and with the utmost care, he took a sip. It tasted how the tea usually did (black, they never had any milk and the sugar ran out yesterday and had yet to be replaced) but for the briefest of moments, Msaidizi thought he could taste something else. “Mmmm!” he hummed appreciatively, giving a thumbs up (the gesture was lost on Zecora) and trying desperately not to swallow. Once again they stared at each other in an increasingly awkward silence. She was wondering when he would swallow his tea and take another sip (since he seemed to enjoy it so), and he was waiting for her to turn around so he could discretely spit it out (since she seemed to be was some sort of evil enchantress who was probably trying to poison him). What Msaidizi didn’t count on, however, was the zebra’s patience outlasting his oxygen supply. What breath he held quickly ran out, and not swallowing became harder and harder as his body metaphorically screamed for air. His head began to feel light and the thumping of his heart pounded in his ears. Finally he could hold it in no longer and with a great gasp he spat the tea out and was bent over double taking deep, heavy breaths. “Makini! Are you alright?” Zecora cried out, rushing to his side to see if she could help. She moved to put a steadying hoof on his shoulder, but at her touch he suddenly stood up. “I’m fine thanks!” he shouted, his tone fast and manic. “A little just went down the wrong way, that’s all!” With one jerky spin he turned around and walked to the door. “Oh look, such a lovely day! I think I’ll go for a walk!” Zecora looked out the window, and saw that it wasn’t a lovely day at all, it was relatively windless but the rain was coming down in thick sheets. His reaction was beginning to worry her. “Are you sure you are okay?” “Never felt better!” he replied (still loud and fast in voice). “I’ll be back later! Goodbye!” With that he threw the door open and not-quite-ran outside, leaving a very bemused Zecora behind to clean up his spilled drink. Once he was out of sight of the house he sat down by the base of a random tree, covered his face with his hands and whimpered a little. Today... Everything wasn’t fine. The journey back had been rather uneventful. As the sky gradually darkened the birdsong was replaced with the shuffling of smaller creatures in the undergrowth, and the occasional howl or cry of a (thankfully distant) predator. The trees overhead made the route especially dark, but Msaidizi knew the way well enough. Just find the poison joke patches glowing faintly by the dirt road (taking great care not to touch any – he hadn’t seen its effects yet but he’d certainly been taught of them) and follow it for a little while. Eventually you would come across a bamboo mailbox standing next to the road, which marked the small side-path that would lead you to Zecora’s home. Something was wrong though, something that made Msaidizi even more anxious than before. Smoke was coming out of the chimney, which meant that either Zecora had forgotten the time and had started brewing something, or... with a gulp he opened the door, and his worst fears were confirmed as he saw the zebra pouring stew into two bowls. “Welcome back!” she said with a smile. “It is good to see such punctuality”. As she moved the bowls over to some seating rugs placed on the floor, she explained “You’ve been working hard lately – to my delight - so I have decided to cook tonight”. ‘You’ve also been more nervous than a gazelle amongst lions’ she mentally added. ‘Perhaps you’ve been working too hard’. Msaidizi nodded and went to sit down, although he no longer felt like eating. “I shouldn’t have spent my afternoon so far away” he thought to himself. “Maybe if I’d kept close to the house, this wouldn’t have happened”. The anxiousness around his heart gripped so hard now that he felt it difficult to breathe. When Zecora handed him a bowl he could not raise it to his lips, and even if he could have he wouldn’t have been able to open his mouth. “Is something wrong?” Zecora asked, tilting her head slightly and giving him a quizzical look. Msaidizi just shook his head. “I’m not very hungry” he started to say, but his stomach betrayed him by giving a low grumble. Zecora stared at him for a moment or two, and then gave a small smile. She got up and went to one of the cupboards, and returned with a small pot in her mouth. “Perhaps a pinch of salt?” she offered, but Msaidizi didn’t hear it. He was too busy internally panicking, thinking back to the Return to Sender incident and only too easily seeing the similarities between then and now. “No no no no no no no!”. She took his silence for consent and moved close, and when she was close enough to shake some into his stew, his fear boiled over and with a yelp he threw the bowl into her face. “Hiyo ni ya moto! Nini ni vibaya na wewe?! Kijinga tumbili!” Zecora exclaimed and swore, shaking off the stew that now coated her head and was seeping into her Mohawk, her anger mixed with confusion. Msaidizi for his part began pushing himself away across the floor, stuttering and spluttering and seeming close to tears. “I’m sorry!” he wailed. “I’m so sorry, miss! Please don’t hurt me! Don’t put your magic on me again or turn me into a frog or-“ She raised a hoof, and Msaidizi shut up. “Whatever is the matter, assistant of mine?” she asked with authority in her voice and anger on her face. “It’s clear you have a problem that is far from benign”. Said assistant hesitated. “You already know” he said to his feet, a touch of defiance managing to creep into his tone, now that the jig was up. “Tell. Me. Leave nothing out!” And so he told her. He told her of everything that had happened since he’d first been sent to gather reagents, how he’d felt at being sent away so unexpectedly harshly. How he’d gathered the ingredients (especially the final one, and the strange pony he’d met while doing so) and discovered himself lost. At no longer being in control of his body, and feeling it being forced to run with no regard for terrain, while his overexerted muscles screamed in agony. And finally, at how he’d live in fear of her ever since. Zecora stayed silent throughout this, only stopping him to ask the occasional question or request elaboration. As she listened to it her expression began to soften, and once or twice her ears drooped. When it came to his descriptions of her potion’s effects her eyes widened in sudden understanding, and her expression changed from anger to guilt. ‘In hindsight, this all seems quite obvious. Oh dear. You’ve done it again, Zecora!’ “Msaidizi, I...” she said softly, walking over and placing a hoof on her assistants shoulder. “I apologise. Now that the fog is clear from my eyes I see that I have not been treating you fair, but without tact and without due care”. She hadn’t realised it until now, but she hadn’t been treating Msaidizi like an equal worthy of respect, rather more like a particularly intelligent pet that she could hold a conversation with. The strange effects of her potion she did not predict at all, but the more she thought about it the more sense it made. Her assistant was a creature she’d never seen before, one she’d never even heard of before. It was foolish of her to assume that they would affect him the same way they affect zebras or ponies. “Believe me when I say ‘these words are true’” Zecora continued. “That potion was not meant to do that to you” “It wasn’t?” Msaidizi’s brow creased in confusion (and a great deal of relief). “No, my dear”, she explained. “Return to Sender is meant to guide not steer. It was not supposed to force you to strive; it is brewed to remind you the way, not drive.” “...oh.” For a few moments they sat in an awkward silence, then the assistant cleared his throat and tentatively asked “So, what now? Erm, miss?” “Now?” Zecora repeated, with the beginnings of a grin on her face. “Take a pot to the well and bring me a scoop. You may not have noticed, but I’m dressed like soup”. The weeks turned into months, and spring turned into summer. Slowly at first but rapidly gaining ground, the trust Msaidizi had for his mistress grew, and with it the life of hard work, regular meals and a warm hearth to rest brought him a sense of contentment. His appearance continued to change as the seasons passed. Now he was beginning to show some muscle tone on his limbs, and all but a few traces of his previous starvation were gone (although he could still probably be called slim for his height). The hair on his head now fell down to his shoulders, and on his face a large beard stretched down to his chest. All this hair had to be maintained of course, and he’d been gifted a comb carved out of some kind of bone which he took care to use each day. Finally, he now had a set of clothes. After a rather unfortunate series of events concerning a prickly bush, a high flame, his height relative to Zecora, and her turning around too fast whilst he was right behind her, she had decided to teach him how to sew. She took him to one of the Everfree’s many ponds and pointed out which reeds to pick, and how to spin and weave their plain brown fibres into garments. He’d made himself a shirt, with wooden buttons that he’d carved himself, and a similar garment covering the top of his legs (and any possible offensiveness) that he called ‘shorts’. After a flash of inspiration that came to him after another awful headache, he’d also made what he called ‘sandals’, which were essentially slabs of tree bark tied to his feet with vine. Zecora had laughed at them the first time she saw them, but she did admit their apparent usefulness. “Like a false hoof” she had remarked. Yes, life was good for him. It was simple and honest, if sometimes a bit lonely (the only other talking creatures he knew aside from Zecora were the ponies, and whenever his path crossed with theirs they still ran away screaming, or even worse, some in the past few months ran towards him, with various looks that sent him fleeing instead). Adding to all of this, his dreams kept showing him that strange city of ghosts and the mysterious, omnipresent feeling of being watched which came with it. Fortunately for him (or perhaps unfortunately, depending on your point of view) that mystery was going to be solved very shortly. That night, he dreamed he was in a vast library, with bookcases many times taller than himself. He had tried to read a few of the books, but all the words were too squiggly and unreadable with any pictures blurred beyond recognition, so he just sat on a bench and waited. There were none of the ghosts here this time, so for the moment he was completely alone. It seemed that he did not have to wait very long for that to change however, as soon the feeling of being watched was upon him, and those familiar glimpses of dark blue with white sparkles set into the corners of his eyes. He decided that he would not turn his head this time though, or try and chase the unknown presence (as he had on a few previous occasions). He just sat there, waited for what felt like an hour (but could have actually been less than a minute, dream-time being what it is) and then loudly declared “I know you’re there! Show yourself! ....please?” There was a small gasp just on the edge of hearing, and then – surprisingly – giggling. Delighted, girlish giggling, like a child with a new toy, ringing out from the shelves and growing closer. Said laughter then turned into a voice, which said “We wondered when thou wouldst ask us!” From the shadows of the bookcases ahead of Msaidizi, she appeared. A pony, but unlike one he had ever seen before. Dark blue in colour, it was much taller than the others he had seen, with longer legs and neck, and it had wings and a horn! He had occasionally seen ponies with those before, but never with both! On its hooves it wore slippers of shining silver crystal, and on its chest and head jewellery carved of black crystal with a silver moon symbol embedded in the chest piece. “It’s the same as her flank tattoos,” the assistant noted. But most wondrous of all was her mane and tail. The hairs were midnight blue, with glittering white sparkles within it, and it fluttered and blew by itself as if caught in an ethereal wind. It was like gazing through a rip in the world and into the very depths of space, and Msaidizi could hardly take his eyes off it. “I’ve known you were watching for months” he finally said, knowing that it sounded petulant but not particularly caring. The mare giggled again. “Oh? That is most efficacious of thee! Not many notice us without our consent!” Msaidizi got the impression that he was being toyed with. “Who are you?” he asked. “We are the princess”. That much seemed obvious (the crown was a giveaway, but it was not the answer he was looking for. “Princess...?” he prompted. “Of Night and Love. Of Death and Dreams”. She was definitely toying with him. “What I mean is: what should I call you?” “’Your Highness’ will suffice for now” she answered with a smirk. Msaidizi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guessed I walked into that one. Am I... in a dream right now?” “Yes, thou art” the princess confirmed, looking around the library with a discerning eye. “And a most unique one it is! We hath not seen such sights in many a year.” One of the faceless ghosts suddenly walked into view, and the pair silently watched it with mild interest. It took some books from the shelves seemingly at random, and then walked back out of sight. “Now that we hath introduced ourselves” the princess said, in a suddenly businesslike tone. “We hath a task for thee”. Msaidizi looked up at her, surprised. “Wait, what? No! You’ve left me with so many questions!” “Mayhaps, but surely those can wait until-“. She caught his expression, and sighed dramatically. “Oh, fine!” she pouted in mock outrage. “Ask of us thy questions three”. He felt that three questions were far too few, but Msaidizi decided to take what victory he could, and began thinking. “Why my dreams?” he asked after a few minutes. “I don’t think I’m a subject of yours, and even if I was, I don’t think I’m that special for a princess to visit them”. The princess smiled. “Thou underestimate thy own rarity.” She said in what she probably thought was an assuring tone. “And thou and thy mistress are in fact living within our kingdom, so thou art indeed the subjects of us and our sister. But to answer thy question” Here she waved her hair and spread her wings for a moment, making herself look bigger than she was. “We are more powerful in dreams than thou know. We can be in many dreams at once, or even all if we so desired”. “Well, that is absolutely terrifying” Msaidizi thought to himself. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of royalty that could peer into his mind while he slept. He had enough problems already, like... “What happened when I drank that potion?” he asked the princess for his second question. “Zecora said it wasn’t meant to act the way it did.” “Neigh, it was not” she agreed. “Thou art a creature that hath never been seen in Equestria before. The laws of magic were not written for thou, and thus even we cannot predict what potions and spells wouldst do to thee. Some may not work at all, some may give any result, and some...” here she paused for dramatic effect “...may prove fatal”. Msaidizi laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “W-well then! I suppose I shouldn’t drink any potions! Problem solved, yes?” “It is... more complicated than that” the princess continued. “Equestria is naturally full of magic. It lives in the ground, in the trunks of trees, in the air and water itself. Simply living here will affect thou, before long“. She caught the look growing on his face, and raised a hoof in placation. “But worry not! This is a land of harmony, and the magic is a part of that. In truth, the worst that would probably happen is that thou become more like our citizens, and the traits they share. Kindness, generosity...” she coughed and lowered her voice for a moment. “Musical numbers...” “Sorry, I didn’t catch that last one”. “Generosity, we said”. As he mulled over the line ‘become more like our citizens’, a strange thought wormed its way into Msaidizi’s head. “Am I... going to turn into a pony?” The princess snorted in amusement. “Almost certainly not. Why, dost thou wish to?” “You can do that?!” The princess shrugged. “We can do many things”. Msaidizi’s face went through a series of emotions. Horrified first, then to oddly thoughtful, and then finally settling on mildly disturbed. “No, no I think I’ll stay the way I am, thank you”. The princess smirked again. “Then thou probably shan’t become one.” With that assurance made, she then pointed a hoof at him dramatically. “But enough of that! Thy mistress travels to a nearby town every now and again, doth she not?” The sudden change of subject caught Msaidizi off guard, but he eventually managed a response. “Er, yes. Every month, I believe. I never go with her though”. He looked into the middle distance and added, almost to himself, “She always seems sad when she comes back, for some reason...” “Tomorrow, she will be going there again, and this time thou art to accompany her.” With that she stomped her foreleg, the sound of the daintily shod hoof hitting the floor ringing with the finality of a judge’s gavel. “This is the task we hath set”. With that the princess began to walk away, towards an opening in the bookshelves. In response Msaidizi jumped out of his seat and moved as if to stop her. “Wait!” he cried in protest. “Hang on, I haven’t asked my third question yet!” “But thou hath!” the princess replied with amusement, not looking back. She did giggle, however. “Thou shouldst choose thy words with greater care!” With that she turned a corner and disappeared from sight, leaving the assistant alone in his dreams once more.