The night passed slowly in the three wagons of the Trottingham Court Cabaret of Mystery and Wonder. All the members slept, if fitfully in some cases, as did the two fugitives, Noontide and Bad Apple, passed off as Udan Ibai. It stopped raining just after midnight and the skies cleared after some short amount of time, to let the waning moon shine down through the trees.
Argentum the griffin snapped his eyes open in the watches of the night. Dawn was nowhere near, and the moon was still in the sky. But he knew that he wouldn't get much more sleep than he had. Griffins seldom did when they had a nervous burst of energy. For all their nobility and bluff, griffins had a lot of skittishness in them. Their land was hard, their neighbors more advanced and their own society full of friction from too much stratification. Even those who had escaped from it all were still filled with the old uncertainty. The ways of the old world were hard to escape.
The griffin bided his time outside of the wagons, pacing up and own on the road and flexing his wings to prepare them for the journey. He had borrowed a saddlebag to hold the note, and ran the instructions through his head. South-southeast. A town surrounded by cherry trees. Find the chief named Grind. Tell them the name on the note and something about being worse than Streamford Grade. It was a mysterious and unusual request. And it took away his chance to shine in the coming action.
He was a star and deserved to shine big and bright! He was paying his dues, working a small show to try and get noticed. Surely somepony would report his majesty to a scout and get him to something bigger and better. It wasn't automatic, like in the Kingdom; being a Bald meant nothing to ponies, save a way to guess his clan name. There were no shortcuts in Equestria, thanks to the level playing field.
The only saving grace was that his sister wasn't famous either. For all her bluster and puffing, and all her flaunting being an egg grabber, she had not turned her tremendous Equestrian-trained skills to anything notable. At least, he had never seen her name in lights or listed on any programs. After a disastrously transparent affair with a pony he couldn't recall the name of she had just dropped out of sight. Good riddance
She had the right idea, to some degree. Getting out of the Kingdom. Even if he wasn't as different as her, he still preferred the climate and ambiance of the Principality. The opportunities, while needing more effort, were much more enjoyable, all because they entailed succeeding in a much nicer environment. Plus, it wasn't just his name and his father getting him by. He was becoming famous for himself. No second-hatched griffin, a nothing and nobird with a sister for an elder and prime.
Argentum turned when he heard a noise behind him, noting a pony-shaped shadow in the low light. “Who's there? Locks? Pretz? Clear? Blank, if this is another idiot prank...”
The pony stepped forward into what little light there was. Bad Apple. “Just me. Didn't mean to disturb you.”
The hesitation dropped from the griffin's shoulders, and he shook his head. “You're up... early. Or late. Something.”
“I do a bit of night work, but everything happens during the day. There is a method of carefully controlled sleeping and staying awake that, after a bit of hassle, will allow a pony to sleep only four hours a night and be completely rested. It needs to be the full amount, but it works.” Bad strolled up and looked up to the sky. “You ready to go?”
“I don't know when to go. I was just running it over in my head. Then, I guess I was just going to head off.”
“Let me see...” Bad pulled his pack off and pulled out a piece of plain paper, a graphite stick and a book, with silver covers. He then took out some kind of necklace, a black-and-silver circular pendant hanging from it. He looked up to the stars through the center of the disc, lining up carefully. He flipped the book open and checked in a table full of numbers, while also looking at the face of the pendant.
“So... what are you doing with that?” Argentum looked curiously over the piles of letters and numbers, and watched as mathematical calculations were written out on the paper.
“First, I take the date, and use some math to figure out time and location. Then with a map...” Another paper came out of the bag, a map of Equestria. Bad dragged a hoof from Canterlot to a vague point in the woods that looked uninhabited. Then he flipped to the back of the book, looking over more tables, and doing more math. Finally he tapped a point on the map and nodded a bit. “Just a while longer. Directly south-southeast. If you're high enough you will see down to the town, even through patchy or sporadic cloud cover. Town lights are hard to miss, especially with a cherry orchard around them. If you rush there and have them march at a steady pace they'll make it, even twisting around the terrain.”
“Okay, what was all that? You some kind of surveyor or something? A lotta Goldens and Wedgetails do that. I don't know about Equestria, but in the Kingdom that gives you plenty of hens if you're working for a noble holding.”
“Been similar to one. But no, here that is just an average job for ponies good at math. This lovely little contrivance is an antique nocturlabe. In essence it's a sundial for nighttime. And with enough math you can use it to find rough locations and distances from a pre-determined point. Canterlot is most convenient, being the prime meridian for Equestria.”
“Really prepared, aren't you?”
“Not enough. Not enough... if I had been prepared I wouldn't be in this mess. I'd be well on the road to another town with both of them in tow. If I'd been really careful then no one would have been in there with me. It doesn't matter when it's just me doing dumb things. But when it involves someone else...” Bad let the sentence drop off, checking on the sky again. “Moon's getting low. You might want to take off soon. Remember, find the chief constable, tell them the name, say what I look like, and tell them that there's something worse than Streamford Grade. That will get them here fast.”
“If you say so. I might even be early. I'm the fastest flier I know of. Soon all of Equestria will know it. I'll get scouted for something big and important and be famous.” Argentum posed grandly, a talon thumping against his keel.
“First of all or last in line, you're tops to me for doing this. If nothing else, just remember that. Trying at all, and doing your best, is the key. You can't win if you never enter.” With a nod Bad slowly trotted away, leaving Argentum to consider a moment, before he launched himself into the sky.
Bad silently entered the rear caravan, settling back down on the spot he had taken as a bed. The moon was falling. The run would rise soon. Celestia was nothing if not consistent and punctual. She was always at breakfast and dinner at the same time. Maybe she was less consistent at lunch, he was never there for that. If he wasn't in Canterlot having a good time in all the anonymity he was having a midday session of lovemaking with Luna. There was a particular pleasure to making love in the light of day, even in Luna's smoked-glass chamber. It was almost like being honest about the relationship.
Thinking back on it, he had to wonder which one it had been. As far as he knew Luna was in control of her ovulation, as with all other aspects of her biology, a power he truly enjoyed. At some time she had decided, in advance, to let an egg come, and then used her magic to hold that fertilized egg in stasis. It might even have happened that night, the night he had tried to propose. She was preparing the reward as she said it. It made further visits more interesting, as he rubbed that food-plumped belly and imagined it swollen with child. His child. She had always said she would be a fine feeder of pedigrees. He was just happy the universe had seen fit to declare him an acceptable sire of them.
The seed was planted, he only needed to settle down to watch it grow. “My seed will grow...” He muttered softly, a smile dancing on his lips.
“Hmm, what was that, mister Ibai?” The light-brown earth pony with the braided dark-brown mane, who had been called Pretz by the others, lifted her head from her sleeping space and peered through the darkness.
“It was nothing... just thinking now that I have a chance. It's not often I have the luxury when something so important is impending.”
“I see... it seems strange to think of even doing something like this. It's a performance but... isn't. We need to be on top of our game, and at stake isn't a payday but a life, maybe even our own lives. How do you deal with this sort of thing day after day?”
“It's not everyday. I would have been burnt to a cinder ages ago. Between the traveling and the relaxation there are the tense moments like these. The tension helps to prepare you, you recognize the seriousness and potential for failure... or it should. If you ever lose the tension and recognition of how unkind the wheel of Lady Fortuna can be, in the same measure as it can be kind, then it might be time to hang it up.”
“Or it could be time to consider the mistake, brush off and try again.” Pretz slid over in the darkness, deftly avoiding Noontide's sleeping form and making almost no noise as she passed. “That is the only way anypony has ever gotten any better at anything.”
“I do suppose you're right.” Bad Apple gave the thought a little consideration before asking, “So, Pretz, is it? A rather unique name. What is the origin of that? I've been everywhere but it seems out there.”
“Central Equestrian Kleinpferd. It's short for Pretzel, Pretzel Braids. That's where my mane comes in.” Pretzel bounced her braids a bit and gave a soft laugh.
“That makes more sense. I assume you weren't exactly born into a family of performing folks, am I right?”
“You are. Bakers. The were and are bakers. Pretzel makers, of course, along with other varieties of baked goods. But we Braids folk are known for them. With the popularity of them and the gourmet flavor possibilities, not to mention the salted market, our little shop made good bits. But I had a different ambition. You see I have... well, if you can see this you'll understand.”
“I have perfect night vision. I can practically see on a moonless night in a dark room with the curtains closed.”
Pretzel nodded a bit and turned to the side, beginning to twist and pull her legs in all different directions. She was more akin to taffy than anything else, though she made a few fairly pretzel-like contortions of her body. “If I had more room and liberty I could show you my tumbling and leaping. I've also got a light tread that works great for behind-the-scenes work.”
“I get the gist of your considerable physical powers just fine. After finding out that you had this ability I'd imagine it was hard to stay in the bakery.”
“I used to do advertising for our shop, and entertain the customers for tips. Sometimes I even went along on trips to other villages when we sold to small distributors to give them a show and squeeze out a better price. I performed on the streets one day and was approached by Gray, who said he could use a new acrobat and contortionist after the last one retired. It was a hard choice but after seeing... after some thought I said 'yes' and... that was the end of my days as a baker. My parents still write and say they are sad I left, but they could tell from the start they never could have kept me in the bakery.”
“A story I know very well. They could not keep me on the farm. I had to go out on my own. I was driven, you might say, and sought my fortune on my own, by my wits and skills.”
“I don't know much about Zaldi folk, but if they are anything like Kleinpfred folk, I would imagine they miss you a lot.”
“It is true. My Zaldi family is often saddened by the absence. My brother and sister relish my arrivals, and I feel so terrible, knowing that my niece is growing without her uncle around. She got married a few years back, to a perfectly lovely mare, a schoolteacher. Is that not so wonderfully idyllic? Not much after that both of them had children. And here I am, missing it all.”
“Why don't you just go back and be the doting great-uncle to these children? It sounds like you would be much happier doting and relaxing.”
Bad Apple smiled, rubbing a hoof sheepishly against his neck. “I'm driven to be here. And as long as my honor is stronger than my regret I'll be here, doing my best to be worthy of the honors my family likes to give me. Isn't that always the way it goes? You're always working to impress your family.”
“I did that until I went away. But they are still so proud of me. Every time I tell them about a successful show they write to me to say how proud they are and how glad they are I am happy.” Pretzel stood up again, stretching her limber limbs. “What time is it?”
“Luna has dipped her moon low in the sky and Celestia is bringing the sun close to the horizon. Argentum left not that long ago. We should be up preparing for what is to come. We've got to do a good job and make it big.” Bad Apple rose and gave a soft sigh. “And all I can do is hide in the background until it's my turn to act.”
“We all take our cues. I'm a performer, I know it very well.” Pretzel smiled and silently made her way out of the caravan to rouse the others.
- - -
Inside the jail cell from which he had so recently escaped, Midnight Glow the purple pegasus rolled slowly, unable to sleep thanks to the crippling uncertainty of his situation and Noontide's status, not to mention the fresh beating he had taken. He hoped that the shadowy Udan character would take care of Noon, and get him to civilization. As developed as it was, he was nowhere near civilized ponies.
The door to the constable station opened with a huge clang of metal on stone, and revealed the shadowy faces of the constables. All were dressed in bright white hooded robes fringed in gold with a Celestian sun symbol on each side. The chief stepped forward, his robe being embellished with a necklace of polished amber. “Get up, pervert. It's time for your trial. We need to wrap this up before the heretics and faithless come to stop our great work. In our prime and predominant Majesty's name, get up and come out for your conviction and sentencing.”
It took Midnight a moment to rise, a cringe or groan the cost of every bit of upward motion. He hissed through his teeth once he was up on his hooves, glaring daggers at the assembly of constables. “You told me what you intended to do. I think I'll take my time, if that's alright with you.”
“It is not.” One of the other constables, the angry one, unlocked the cell and spit on Midnight. “I wanted to do this last night. But it suits me to know it's going to happen. That buck you laid down on me was a cheap shot. I know you're going to die for disrespecting me...”
“Constable...” The chief gave a glare and shake of his head.
“You will be tried for crimes against the glorious majesty of our prime and predominant princess' name. As agents of Celestia's will we take no pleasure in it.” He leaned in, whispering in Midnight's ear, “But I still might feel something. Celestia forgive me, sometimes justice is satisfying.”
The collection of hooded ponies shackled Midnight tightly, hobbling his wings and wrapping a chain around his neck, the chief giving it a sharp pull to get him moving forward. “The town is assembled. The time is now. When the sun rises we will try you, pass judgment, sentence you and carry out that sentence, all beneath her glowing gaze.”
The procession of eleven clanked and clopped out of the constable station, to find a crowd of ponies, with a cleared line that led to a stone table, right beside a large stone slab with a wooden scaffold built upon it that was being worked on by other ponies. They were raising a wooden beam with an arm coming off of it. Other ponies were wrapping a rope around the arm and letting a noose dangle down.
Midnight was forced to sit down before the table, while the constables took up positions in a horseshoe around the table, staring at the pegasus from under their hoods. The chief slapped his hoof down on the table, drawing all eyes to him and causing all action and noise to cease. “We are here to judge this outsider. A stranger who came to destroy our perfect glory and harmony. A pervert, who did unnatural things with other stallions. Who knows how many other stallions he violated and desecrated..?”
“I was always faithful to Noontide! You can't lie like that! If you're going to do this idiotic court then say something true.”
The chief thumped his hoof down again. “A confession! It does not matter how many. You confess to unnatural acts with another stallion. This is entered, uncoerced and freely said. As well, you escaped from the custody of agents of our prime and predominant majesty's will, a heresy of the foulest type. And you inflicted harm on one of our number, a further heresy. These events were witnessed by all our number. They are beyond dispute. For all these crimes you will be put to death by hanging. Have you anything to say for yourself?”
“Just that I hope Noon is safe. And that you're all insane. Celestia would send you to the moon for this. And Luna would scream you back to the Discordian age for forgetting about her.”
“The second princess is not the one who led us for a thousand years. She is our ruler, by technicality. The diarchy, while reestablished by decree, is not how we were ruled. And our great Majesty's will is known to all with ears to hear and eyes to see. Nature itself gives rise to what we know. We may see what she wills, and understand our morals from what our community has as standard. Thus we act, and she smiles upon our ways.”
“You're hiding all this from the princess you claim you love! Why not proudly drag that thing into Canterlot and hang all the Colt Cuddlers and Roa and others that live there?! Don't you even get television in here? There are non-ponies and inter-sentient romances and Colt Cuddlers all over the place. You don't represent Celestia at all!”
“Silence! I will not have you besmirch the pure and perfect name of our grand Majesty with such lies and vile slanders! She hates all such things with a venomous passion. All views to the contrary are lies and tricks, imposed by the night-walking Roa and other such disgusting folk. It is right that we kill you. The sentence is passed. Death by hanging.” The chief stood before the assembled crowd and posed grandly. “Citizens of Wicker Lot! The outsider has brought shame upon us. Our ways are threatened and our purity in peril! We must do as we have done in ages before! We must purify through removal, that our grand Majesty will take pity on us and keep our crops strong and population healthy!”
A cheer rose through the population, while the other constables crowded in around the prisoner. The angry one that had been hurt during the escape grinned and kicked Midnight in the side. “Move. It's going to be good to see your perverted self hanging on that rope. Bet you regret following that ribbontail now.”
“He got Noon out. I don't regret that at all.” Midnight winced as he rubbed his side, marching along with the imposing, hooded figures.
Before anything could happen there was a sudden commotion, warning cries relayed from the edge of the town's border. The noose was quickly removed from the arm of the pole and the scaffold was collapsed using cleverly hidden folding points. The crowd scattered, to look more natural, while the constables all removed their robes, throwing them over Midnight. His mouth was tied shut after being gagged with a sleeve, and he was stuffed under the table. The constable chief glared down in the direction of the cry, stomping the ground with some violence. He was so close.
From down the cobblestone path there came a trio of wagons covered in faded paint, with loud, jaunty music pouring from them. They were being dragged along by a beefy yellow-and-green stallion, while a very acrobatic brown mare tumbled and leaped along beside the middle one, which proclaimed the name, Trottingham Court Cabaret of Mystery and Wonder. Just behind her there came a bearded gray unicorn in a cape and wizard hat, flashing bright sparks and creating multiple magical explosions that made quite a racket.
The chief stomped forward, brow set in anger. He approached the unicorn and began to scream, “What is the meaning of this? Stop this immediately!”
The unicorn looked the chief up and down. “What? Who are you to tell us that? I am Gray Pearls of this traveling show. And this is what we do.”
“And I am Chief Constable Summersisle. I command all legal matters in this town, and you have no right to do this sort of thing!”
“Au contraire, mister Summersisle. As amended, the public performances act allows for the setup and function of traveling shows, single performer or ensemble, as long as they have a relevant permit. And I...” Gray pulled a piece of paper from his hat, unrolling it to reveal the magical seal of a government document, “Have this. Read it all you like. It states that I absolutely have the right to have my show here and active.”
Chief Summersisle looked over the permit with an increasingly angry expression, finally turning away with an exclamation of disgust and stomping his way to the stone table. “Fine then! Do your show. But I know that act as well. You remain in town after dark by the consent of the local law enforcement. And I can tell you you will not have it.”
“We do not intend to take up too much of your time,” Gray noted, beginning a magical juggling act with several shiny glass spheres in several colors.
“No more than is necessary...” Bad Apple whispered, wrapping himself up in a dark cloak he had found in a costume trunk. He stayed on the far side of the caravans, watching as all eyes were drawn to the opening of the middle one into a stage, with wings and a modest back area for the preparation of acts. The action was accompanied by many flashing lights, firework pops and musical stings. It gave him the cover to slip off, back to the jail.
Oddly enough, a dark-clad figure slinking through a town in broad daylight did not draw any attention at all. As he had hoped, the show was the perfect distraction. He used his honed skill to pass beneath the gazes of the audience and slip silently through the metal doors of the jail.
Back at the stage a banner was unfurled, reading Sixteen Tons, the strongest pony in Equestria. The named pony stepped onto the stage, banana-yellow body flexing and showing his well-developed muscles, which added to the intimidation-factor inherent in his giant frame. He tossed his leafy green mane, with a few squeals from the audience showing female appreciation.
On the stage with him were several large weights, which had been levitated in, with some show of difficulty, by Gray, a black-and-cream unicorn and a white unicorn. Six selected a hefty, bell-shaped weight and took it in one hoof. After catching it in the crook behind his fetlock he gave a large grunt and reared up onto his hind hooves, the huge lump of metal coming up with him. After holding it for a moment he went back down, the weight hitting the stage with a heavy thud and the reverberation of metal, probably from a bracing plate.
He did not pause after his feat, but rather repeated it using his other leg, getting a modest cheer from the crowd for the effort. After taking a moment to stretch he went to a large bar packed with hefty weight plates. Both hooves were slipped under the bar, which clanked against the plates loaded onto it. He lifted it a small ways, quickly sliding his head under the bar, until it rested against the back of his neck and shoulders.
He hold the position for a moment, breathing in hard puffs and closing his eyes tight to focus on what he was doing. His body jerked back and up, muscles tense and straining, standing out clearly under his yellow coat. He slowly came up, for a moment looking rather like Trotlas holding the world, before his legs practically sprang straight, the weight bar borne securely across his shoulders.
After delivering a loud grunt amidst much louder applause he let the bar slam down to the stage, with the same metal reverberation. He went to the front of the stage and looked out over the crowd. “Who wants to join me and help with the next part of the act?”
A few legs shot up, somewhat reluctantly, their owners seeming shy and uncertain, even as their non-volunteering neighbors quietly encouraged them. A small number were selected, directed to the stage by the blonde pegasus. The unicorns from earlier were at the back of the stage, levitating a wooden board with a padded harness attached to it onto Six's back. Once it was set and secured the volunteers were levitated up and onto the board.
They were distributed out from the center, keeping the board from tipping. After all the ponies were on Six made a great show of straining, his legs trembling and his muscles once more flexed into a very bulging aspect. Once the moment of tension had been built for the audience he took one slow, trembling step forward, followed by another, slightly faster. After a few slow steps he began to go at a more normal pace, trotting pleasantly around the stage with the passengers on the board secured to him starting to cheer. As he moved faster the cheers grew louder, with some throwing their hooves up and enjoying the sensation. He finally wound down from a canter back to a trot and then to a stop. To put a punctuation mark on his act he executed a few shallow push-ups and threw a huge smile to the crowd.
The response was quite enthusiastic, the cheers rising as the speed had, and not fading as Six slowed. The modest pushups created a spike in the cheering, as did the return of the volunteers to the audience, which was accompanied by six taking his bow and giving his mane another showy toss. As he trotted off of the stage the blonde pegasus took the stage and called, “Sixteen Tons the strongpony! Give home some love! Yea!” She gave a slight nod and the banner changed, to Gray Pearls and his lovely assistant Oiled Locks, masters of the mystic. “And now, myself and our august leader Gray, a wizard nonpareil. Keep your eyes up here and enjoy!”
While the eyes were occupied, Bad Apple could freely search through the constable station. It was not just a simple matter of looking around the cells and the front area. Paranoid tyrants would be the type to have hidden passages, or at least hidden confinement areas. He had to methodically search areas that looked likely, such as places with too much wear, areas with no dust, or expanses that could be sufficient to hide a passage. He knocked on the walls and floor, pulled and pushed books, twisted knobs in many patterns and attempted to activate every loose object that could have served as a lever.
With his options exhausted in both the jail area and the front area he was forced to slip out again, feeling rather defeated. More failure on his part, though at least it wasn't for a lack of trying. Even the most devious Randomoid's secret stashes would have been revealed by that search. He was forced to confront the fact that he hadn't been bested by masterminds. It was all just a series of bad lack happenstances by brutes. Brutes... brute force. They weren't genius supervillains. They were just deluded zealots enforcing some kind of idiocy spawned from their own foolish minds. They had to do everything on the fly.
He slipped back to the caravans while Gray was finishing his last trick, some kind of illusion of sawing Oiled in half from top to bottom. In the secluded area behind the caravans he found Blank applying layers of makeup to himself, with the assistance of Clear. “Hey. You find him?” Blank asked, carefully daubing some paint onto his horn to make it less prominent.
“He wasn't in the station. I checked everywhere, even looked for secret caches and passages. Nothing. Assuming they didn't pass him along to hide him in a house... no... brute force...” Bad Apple rubbed his head and looked at the crowd from between two of the caravans. “They were already out here... the whole town. And we heard some cries as we approached. They were all out and ready for this. They must have been about to do it when we arrived. That means they barely had time to hide everything. He must be out here.”
“Good luck finding him. This is a good crowd.” Clear motioned with her head in the vague direction of the stone table, “And your constable friends are all out here watching us and probably hating everything. They're all crowded around that table by the rock slab and collapsed wooden thing.”
“Table... wooden thing...” Bad Apple chanced a look in the direction of the indicated features, trusting in his hood to keep his from detection. As stated, the constables were arranged around the table by the slab, which had on it a wooden contraption. It looked capable of unfolding into a standing structure of some kind... “That's it! They had to put him by their outdoor staging area. That must be where they pass judgments and execute folks, to keep the rest in line. They probably hang them so there's no mess. I can see some kind of outfit under the table, looks like a robe. They must have undressed and shoved them under there. I'd love to get my hooves on one as evidence.”
“Good luck getting those ponies over. Unless you can turn invisible you're not getting anything.” Blank continued to smear makeup over himself, and layered clothing onto himself.
“You're just a big ray of moonlight, aren't you Blank?” Clear rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Try to be encouraging.”
“No, no... in this case he's got the right idea. Invisibility would be good. But not practical in this case. There are very few mages that specialize in that sort of thing and none of them are here right now. If I can't sneak over while they're there, maybe I can be there when they're not. Any way you can get all or most of them over in this area? I could probably put down one without any noise, and the crowd noise would drown out cries of others.”
“We're not miracle workers.” Blank adjusted his attire in the mirror, a rather bulky but proper business suit. “Those constables aren't exactly eager to have us in the vicinity, never mind watching our acts.”
“So what are you saying, friend? That your acts are garbage and could never win over a disinterested crowd? You don't have much confidence in your abilities, do you? I knew it was all just bluff and bravado. You've got nothing. So I'll think of...” Bad Apple slowly started to pace, face looking deeply contemplative.
“Hey!” Blank pushed Bad up against the caravan and glared at him. “You don't say that about my act. We're here helping you out and then you let that drop? Forget that, I'll get those constables over here and get them all focused. Clear, give me the ol' Roa draw. Plenty of fake fortunes, dancing, colorful streamers, the works. If they don't come up to watch you tie them up and drag them here.”
As Blank stormed off to prepare other parts of his act Clear gave Bad a wink. “How many times have you had to play that tune to get it down right?”
“My sister tells me all the time, 'Brother, you could make Discord turn himself to stone just to make a point.' My beloved daj, long may she head our clan, said my best feature was the ability to get ponies to beg me to work on them. I play them like a violin because they ask. And... he asked.”
“Did he ever. That's Blank.” Clear gave a soft laugh and shook her head. “Time to go to work. Get ready to act.” She quickly pulled on an outfit, a rather tight-fitting variation on traditional Roani dresses, floor-length with an attached bodice, mostly white on the upper portion with muted reds and browns on the lower portion. She also threw a headdress of flowing streamers in a dazzling array of colors. Using her magic she picked up additional streamers and a crystal ball and then danced her way out from behind the caravans and towards the constables at the stone table.
The constables watched the dancing unicorn approach, recognizing some of her accoutrements as indicative of a Roani tradition. It made most of them uncomfortable, as they could not tell if it was all for show, to add something to the performance, or if it was genuine. The chief sneered lightly and glared at Clear. “We are following the barest letter of the law in allowing your little broken-down carnival-reject show to be here. That is all we need to do. Now get out of our presence, you filthy Gypsy. The sooner you leave our town the better.”
“Gentlecolts!” Clear grit her teeth and smiled through her anger, setting off a series of magical bursts of color and sound. “Please gentlecolts, accompany me to the stage area! Fortunes told, bad luck banished, charms and incantations for your advancement, and that is not to mention, on the stage, the greatest and most accurate quick-change artist working in all the Principality! It is a performance not to be missed, to be sure. So come along and watch it all happen!” Her spiel delivered, Clear let off another flash of color and burst of sound, hiding Bad Apple sneaking around behind the stone slab to await his chance.
“I told you to get out of here! We are not going to indulge this idiocy in any capacity! Now I'm not going...” The chief began.
“I dunno... I mean... they're here. We can't change it.” One of the drab constables shrugged after piping up. “We have nothing else to do and I have to admit that I'm jealous that they get to see the show. Don't we get to enjoy the same things as the rest of the ponies in this town?”
“Is that your real thought? I figured you were better than that, more advanced that some base pleasure-seeker. Go on if you want. But the rest of us know better than to vainly seek after these sorts of things.”
“Yea, chief...”Another of the nearly-identical constables rubbed the back of his neck. “See, there's never been much to do around here except, you know, our jobs. Maybe just this once we have a nice change of pace. They're going to be gone by tonight. What could it hurt?”
“Mutiny...” The chief seethed, glaring hatefully at his fellow constables. “How revelatory this day really is. I now know the true state of your purity and loyalty to all we hold dear. Go then. Go and watch your frivolous entertainments. You're not honoring out Majesty.”
There was a bit of hesitation, and conversations between the constables. “I'm sorry, chief.” Even the one who had, just prior, been eager for the execution, was up. “I'm sold on the idea.”
“I knew you would. You proved last night you don't have any honor.” The chief spat contemptuously. “Go. Nothing is surprising me anymore.”
“Just one time...” The constable rolled his eyes and joined the rest as they followed Clear away from the table, leaving their chief on his own.
“It's all it takes, you fools.” There was little he could do but carefully watch his constables walk toward the crowd of townsponies and give Midnight an aggravated kick under the table. Somepony had to suffer for the insult visited upon him.
One remaining, and the chief beside. Not the ideal, but it was about what he had hoped for. Bad Apple slipped along from the far side, sweeping a wide arc around, passing behind the stone slab and peering up over at the petulant chief. A smile passed over his features when he saw his enemy being abandoned by his fellows and forced to confront the idea that he was not all-powerful. “Make some noise, Blank...” He said softly, practically burning a hole into the back of chief Summersisle's head.
The constables were all gathered at the stage cart, skeptically watching the stage as a new banner was unfurled. Blank Slate, the quickest of the quick change artists. Clear was up on the stage, dancing her way around, waving colorful streamers all around while small fireworks popped off in a beautiful mix of color and sound. Onto the stage strolled the white unicorn, in his layered attire and smeared-on makeup. “Thank you! Thank you for your applause! Yes, welcome to the most astounding show you will find in all of Equestria! I can be anypony, and quickly.”
“Oh but I don't think they believe you, Blank!” Clear danced around the unicorn, speaking loudly enough to be heard by the audience. “After all, why should they be excited by you changing clothes?”
“Oh, it is not merely my clothes!” There was a flash of light and plume of smoke, the standard smoke charge for performers. After the cloud had dissipated Blank was standing there, in a large, frilly dress, his color having changed to a slightly darker shade of white, features altered by the makeup into a feminine cast. “It's also my gender!” He said with a high voice.
Clear nodded as the applause came up from the audience, including scattered clops from the constables. “Well now, that's very impressive. But you're still a unicorn. Can't you do anything about that?”
“I don't know, that sounds kind of hard...” Another plume of smoke came up with supplemental bursts of fireworks to cover the extended coverage. When the smoke had cleared Blank was standing there, his horn mostly obscured, a set of convincing fake wings attached to his back, lightly flexing in response to motions of his tail acting on thin wires. “But the audience demands!”
Chief Summersisle grumbled as he heard the other constables cheering for whatever idiocy was being perpetuated on the stage. “They say they are loyal, true and dedicated. Natives of this town, sworn to uphold our Majesty's unspoken will. Yet the first indecent show that comes in draws them like bees to flowers. I guess now I know who is truly loyal...”
“I know that princess very well. I've had breakfast and dinner with her. And she'd say I was the loyal one.” Bad Apple was close enough to hear the angry muttering of the disgruntled chief, getting into position for his sudden assault. He was still sharp enough to respond to bursts of sound whenever they happened to come.
“There will be sharp repercussions when I-” That was as far as Summersisle got before he was hit from behind by a hoof that felt like iron. His grunt of pain and surprise were lost to the popping of fireworks and the chattering of the crowd. He was down but not fully out, struggling to get back to his hooves. “Wh-what..?”
“Earth ponies. It always takes longer. This was so much easier with those ponies in the Vale. If you know what's good for you, Summersisle, you won't make me give you the full crack. I'm mad enough to take your head off.” Bad Apple sat on the prone chief's back, whispering harshly into his ear.
“You! You have your nerve coming back here, ribbontail! Did you bring this performance? I should have known. One of your kind here to tempt us off the right path, it could only have been you...” The chief struggled and bucked under Bad Apple, looking to the group of caravans. “Help me you idiots! He-” A sleeve from one of the robes was stuffed into the open mouth.
“Looks like we have to do this the hard way...” In the process of restraining Summersile with the robes he found under the table, Bad Apple uncovered Midnight, looking stunned by the revelation. “Well, hello there. I know a sad unicorn that is going to just explode with joy over seeing you.”
“You... you came back? Wait, Noon's with you? You said you'd get him out of here! This place is...”
“No place for either of you. The situation is sub-optimal. But I can roll with it.” Bad Apple released Midnight and passed off a robe. “Straight to the caravans. Tell them who you are, tell them I released you. They'll hide you with Noon. We're going to be long gone before anypony knows anything.”
“I can't... I just don't know what to say...” The pegasus slipped on the robe and got himself steady before he made his way off. “I can't thank you enough.”
“Don't. I got you in this worse mess.”
“You got both of us out. You were right. They were always planning to kill us. Now we're out.” Midnight pulled the hood up over his head and made a mad dash across the empty space between the stone table and the caravans.
Bad Apple watched for a time, to make sure he made it. Even though he was not taking precautions he was kept protected by the focus of the audience on the performance. His attention then turned back to the muffled, weakened Summersisle. “You've been a bad, bad upholder of law and justice. When some grifting scoundrel like me is a better lawpony than you I think it's a sign you should quit.”
Summersisle muttered several venomous curses into the sleeve that was silencing him, fighting the fabric holding him back. He was trussed up in a proper country fashion, secured well and hidden far under the table with the robes stuffed all around to leave it looking as much like it had been before the liberation.
His job done, Bad Apple was prepared to make his way back to the caravans when he caught sight of the constables. They were returning to the table. It was only careful positioning that had prevented them from noticing him. He pressed himself down to the ground and slowly scraped his way around towards the far side of the scaffold's base, putting himself further from his escape route.
“It wasn't a bad show I guess.” One of the constables gave a wavering motion of a hoof and shrugged. “I suppose unicorns can be useful as entertainment. That's about all we need them for.”
“That tricky little gypsycorn wasn't so bad either. I'll bet she was taught how to be entertaining. You know that's all they know how to do.” The slurs were met with general laughter from the other stallions, who took a position around the table again.
“And wouldn't you know it? The chief buggered off in a tizzy. I get that we are supposed to uphold law and justice, but how often do we get any shows in here?”
“We're not supposed to, that's the point of staying off maps and being inconspicuous. We can live out our lives in the freedom and tradition we desire, serving Celestia as we wish.”
“I know we must respect and honor Chief Summersisle but my friend... you need to drink less of that kumis he splashes out all over the place.” The other constables laughed at their chastised fellow while the speaker went on, “We're here to keep the peace as we know it. That's it. Status quo, as those crazy Equusians used to say. Never mind any of that other stuff. Not like her Majesty is going to drop down and talk to us.”
“We should only hope to be so blessed someday as... hey! Calm down!” One of the constables kicked at the well-covered lump under the table, which had begun to shift and thrash. “Looks like we didn't make it clear that he wasn't getting out of this.”
“They never learn. Perverts just respond to punishment.”
“Careful, he might like it.” there was a chorus of laughter and a new focus on striking the squirming bundle, which gave Bad Apple a chance to slip out just out of notice and scurry back to the caravans.
“What kept you? My performance went off without a hitch and we're running light since you sent Arg off.” Blank met Bad Apple at their prior conversation location, his body bare and mostly clear of the makeup he had been wearing. “Clear's doing her razzle-dazzle drabani routine and comedy spot and then we've got Pretz to do the acrobat thing.”
“Look, how fast can you pack this thing in and be on the move?”
“We're pretty speedy about it when we need to be. What did you do now?” Blank gave Bad a piercing, judgmental gaze.
“I knocked their leader around and stuffed him under the table. Good job with all the explosions and crowd noise. I've really got to have a look at your act. I once did a bit of changing but I didn't have...”
“Wait, wait, back up... their leader, the angry jerk that wanted us out? You stuffed him under the table? The one they're all at right now? Aren't they going to wonder where he went?”
“They think he left in a fit of pique. And they think they're subduing their former prisoner. Did he managed to get to Noon?”
“Yea, they're hiding out in the front caravan. I don't believe this. So do you want us packed up now?”
Bad Apple looked to the table again, and noticed that the abuse had stopped, and the constables were actually looking at, and probing, the robes. “Sooner than now. Five minutes ago.”
“I knew we never should have helped you.” Blank threw back his head and let out a huge cry that managed to cut over the music. “Hey Rube! Hey Rube! Roustabout-Break Time!”
Almost before the cry could be completed there was a sudden flurry of activity from several quarters. Clear stopped her act and immediately took down the banner saying, Clear thought the seer, questions answered, fortunes revealed. The banner was quickly but carefully folded and placed with the others. She then leaped off stage with a flourish while the stage closed itself up and returned to being an ordinary, large caravan again. All the others were running around in carefully ordered chaos, bearing boxes and pieces of equipment to their proper places. The constables at the table noticed all the sudden, frantic activity and gave it a moment of consideration before they started digging through the robe pile.
“You called for the quick break, what is wrong, Blank?” Gray confronted Blank on the far side of the caravans, which were being securely hooked together and subsequently being hooked to Six.
“Our friend here got a little creative in his rescue. He tenderized that idiot Summersisle and put him where the stallion we came to rescue was at. Now I think...”
“Hey! You! Stop your packing and hold for arrest!” Blank was cut off by the angry voice of one of the constables. The rest were occupied with pulling Chief Summersisle from under the table and profusely apologizing for kicking him.
“I don't think we'll be obeying that little call.” Gray whistled loudly and produced a magical flash with his horn. “If you dropped something, leave it, if you forgot to tie something down, accept it. We must be off immediately!” With that call he ran inside of the front caravan and stomped loudly on the floor. “Six! Pull with all your might!”
Six threw himself against the harness, muscles again bulging from the strain as he set his earth mana to work, giving him the traction to draw along the weighty vehicles. “You heard Gray! All aboard, folks! This train's the express to anywhere but here!” His pace increased, hooves pulling at the stone streets as he got underway.
“Stop them! Stop them now!” Chief Summersisle burst from the surrounding constables, shoving them rudely aside. “Surround them! Stop the criminal interlopers! They have defied the will of the great solar Majesty! They have defied me! Stop them or you will be judged with them!”
The crowd responded with some reluctance, but no lack of effectiveness. The mass of townsponies swarmed around the carts, especially in front, forcing Six to first dodge and shove, and then halt before he crushed somepony. He grunted and cried out as all the momentum was canceled into his body, leaving him hanging in the harness. “Sorry Gray... I can't just run them over...”
“It is a fate we anticipated, Six...” Gray strode grandly out of the front caravan, horn flashing to try and push the crowding ponies back. “You poor folk... under the hoof of this ludicrous charlatan. I would imagine you've never seen the rest of the principality. I know it's not your fault.”
“Silence! Slick-talking troublemaker!” Chief Summersisle strode to the head of the caravans, the crowd parting in reverent fear. “You came in here with the intent to break the law! You hooked up with this night-skulking Gypsy trash... but you have your own ribbontailed hussy. Of course you would... you law-skirting collection of scoundrels and con ponies! What did you think you would accomplish? To rescue another disgusting pervert and escape?”
“Spread all the bile you want. But it will not change the fact that you are the one who is truly disgusting. Your hate and oppression violate every precept upon which our great land was founded.” Gray strode forward fearlessly, towards the waiting constables. “You are no better than separatists, Discordians or Randomoids. You do not honor their Majesties. You insult them.”
“You oppose them, in the most fundamental way possible.” Bad Apple suddenly spoke up and stepped out of the last caravan. “I know it. I've intimately familiar with all things Canterlotian, especially policies and feelings. You know nothing. With Princess Luna reinstalled the Roa are finding more respect and concern than ever before. And thanks to Celestia Colt Cuddlers are protected and accepted. They can even marry in Canterlot and close environs.”
“Lies!” Chief Summersisle spat in Bad Apple's direction, and cast a burning glare across the assembled group. “Lies and vile slanders against the pure wonder of our Solar Majesty! He speaks filth in the name of our glorious and mighty leader! The harsh glare of her golden eye and the burn of her radiant features tell us all we need to know of her way and will!”
“Listen to this madpony! Does this sound remotely real?” Bad Apple swept his forelimbs as he addressed the crowd, standing up on a caravan wheel to give himself some extra height over the constables. “Don't any of you remember the history of the nation? The Elements of Harmony and the power of love? The fall of Vault's Vale? Can't you recall anything of history? Or have they stolen your history and left you with only their words?”
“Silence!” The chief stomped his hoof and charged his way to Bad Apple, impacting him in the chest with his shoulder. The two earth ponies were fairly evenly matched, but with the way that the chief went back a small way, and his victim did not move, it was clear the grifting Roa had done that dance before. “Who do you think you are? Nothing! Nopony! Scum!”
“Who am I? Well now... isn't that an interesting question? If all your bigoted eyes can see is the ribbon on my tail then my name is Udan Ibai, brother of Gilbert LaRoulette and Aurelina LaRoulette. But maybe... I am not...” He started to reach into his coat, before his eyes cut to the sky and back down. “Maybe I'm somepony else entirely. What do you say, Argentum?”
With a loud screech the named griffin swooped from the sky in a tight and impressive spiral. “They sent me ahead to make sure you were still alright. And I mean that literally, you. The rest of the Cabaret as well, but they were worried that would have been in some kind of danger. Any reason they would think that?”
“Because they know me.” Bad Apple laughed and tapped his chin. “Which 'they' is 'they'? Older unicorn gentlecolt, gray body and a white mane, bit of a mustache, interconnected gears on his flank?”
“Not-overly-young earth pony mare. Same colors though, and a pepper mill on her flank. Not that I looked too long.” Argentum quirked his beak and looked aside quickly.
“That's a shame, actually. He finally retired...” Bad Apple looked away a little wistfully.
“What is this now? A griffin? Ugh, it is worse than I...” Chief Summersisle was cut off by cries relayed from the edge of town, cries that made his face grow pale.
“Constables! Constables! Constables!” In the wake of the cry there charged a small collection of olive-drab-clad mares and stallions, wearing well-stocked equipment belts around their barrels. They were all well-lathered with sweat, as though they had been moving for some time. At the head was a gray-bodied, white-maned earth pony mare.
“Everypony down! Nopony moves out of the area without my okay!” The mare started shouting orders right away, while her trailing constables swarmed out through the crowd to ensure the orders were followed.
“Fine Grind... Chief Fine Grind, I guess. I never expected that. I honestly thought that your father would be constable forever, even when he had dried up into an old swayback stallion.” Bad Apple casually walked through the subdued crowd, the wandering constables completely ignoring him.
“Bataud Carp...” Chief Grind smiled and gave a short laugh. “No, no... my father retired for good after the big 'incident.' He thought it was a good time. Now he lives in one of those senior communities in Canterlot. His pension was very, very good, thanks to all the credit he got for what he did. Now he tells me he listens to the radio, plays shuffleboard with the donkey next door and enjoys his time. I think he'd like for you to visit.”
“Wouldn't be a bad idea. We could catch up. What made him want to call it quits?”
“What happened in Cherrywood. He said he got his wish. He wanted to really bring justice, really be justice. He always told me there was nothing like being the protector of the weak. That when you really feel it, you'll savor and love it.”
“Did you?”
“Yes!” Chief Grind placed a hoof over her mouth as all eyes turned to her. “It was all he had said and more. For now, though, can you go around and gather up the folk that are working with you? No need to waste time on processing and interrogating them.”
“I'll do it, but you're going to need to call in a lot of official help. Government types, Office of the Cult-Finder General sorts. What you have here is a Celestian cult. Traitors.”
The mare gaped in disbelief, looking out on the cowering citizens and scowling constables. “Treason? Government officers needed? You sure know how to find the good cases. You know more than you ought to for a civilian. I'm hardly surprised you went on to do time as a Constable. Why not take this traitor job for yourself, earn a nice feather in your cap.”
Bad Apple shuffled his hooves and shrugged his shoulders. “Well... you see...”
“You didn't!” Chief Grind shook her head with an incredulous grin. “You already ran in a treason case! Was it in the papers?”
“Oh it wasn't anything that got my name in headlines or anything. You'd never know it was me.” Bad Apple waved a hoof and turned around. “The folks with me are in the caravans and three of the folks out here. Can we stand off to the side?”
“Please do. No need to involve innocent ponies in this kind of criminal to-do.” Chief Grind then went to the task of sorting through all the ponies.
Bad Apple tapped Six, Argentum and Gray and led them to the side, before getting the rest of the folks out of the caravans and leading them to the same place. “All's well and all that.”
“You were right, Clear. It all worked out.” Gray heaved a huge sigh and slumped down a bit.
“By the power of your august beard, Gray.” Clear nodded sagely, leaning on Blank slightly. “There's one thing though... brother Ibai...” She peered at the caramel stallion, “You put a different name on that note. And you said you were brother of a family named LaRoulette, enough to have a family heirloom or something like it. Your name is Udan Ibai. That's not a Roani name, and you said you were family because of Roanipen anyhow. Just on what you've said you can't be either one's brother, not like you are. Just what is your real name?”
Bad Apple clicked his tongue and glanced aside to Chief Grind, who was burning a piece of enchanted paper. A constable's best friend when dealing with situations that needed government intervention. “Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies.” With that statement hanging in the air he took off, apparently to have a conversation with Chief Grind.
“Well...” Gray turned to regard Midnight and Noontide, who were snuggled up together and lightly sobbing in relief. “As unusual as it was... we did a very good thing. These two can get on with their lives. And I suppose we can as well. Your concerns notwithstanding, Clear, I think this went well.”
“Went well?!” Blank practically spluttered, “We went here into a crazy cult town and played a free show for constables that wanted to kill us! They very well could have! Were you involved in the same zany shenanigans I was?”
“I am saying that these two are back together. And that is worth all the shenanigans in Equestria. Besides, we have that croupier stick. We can recuperate our losses.”
“I've gotta admit...” Locks said, sliding a hoof through her slick mane, “We certainly did a real number on these rubes. That was almost a brilliant success. What's not to like about that kind of appreciation?”
“Hmph! And you did it all without me.” Argentum crossed his arms and sulked. “I mean, I'm glad it worked and all but I never got to show my moves.”
“Hey, it was okay, Arg...” Pretzel patted the griffin on the shoulder. “That was a nice spiral you pulled coming down.”
“Yea, you were really turning. Nice showing off.” Locks winked to Arg and laughed a bit.
“Heh, well...” The griffin puffed his neck feathers a bit and looked away.
“So!” Bad Apple suddenly appeared, making the assembly jump a bit. “I have some truly excellent news! I just got you a paying job.”
“Did you now, mister Ibai?” Gray looked curiously at the enigmatic stallion. “How did you manage that?”
“Just some friendly chatter with Chief Grind. I told them about your professionalism and the great skill and entertainment value of the show. She was already impressed with Argentum's speed and precision flying. She knows the mayor of Cherrywood Acres and could easily convince her to pay for a performance. Pay a premium, even, as a reward for all of this.”
Gray looked around at his troupe, who all looked on with an eager attention. “In that case, we can hardly decline such a job. My friends, it would appear that our next job will be in this Cherrywood Acres.”