Act 1, Part 5: Of Inspectors and Ivory
The sound of a metronome drifted lazily through the mansion, filling the space between seconds like a clock's echo. The sound strolled through the halls and meandered up the stairs until it eventually faded away deep within the massive building. The ticking of the metronome was replaced by the soft padding of hooves on carpet that never once left time. They turned corners and climbed stairs, eventually coming to a rest before a heavy door. A hoof rapped upon the door three times, still keeping time, then paused. There was silence for three beats, then six. Once more the hoof rapped three beats on the door, and once more there was a pause. Three beats. Six beats. Nine beats. The hoof raised one more time, poising as though to rap.
It slammed into the door, throwing the it open wide.
"Up!" Erin shouted, stomping into the darkened bedroom and tramping around the bed. "Up up up you lazy boys!"
From beneath the mound of thick sheets and comforters, a scarred blue-grey nose poked out. Its nostrils twitched as it sniffed at the air, and it slowly crept out to reveal Meadowlark, eyes still shut tight. He turned to stare sightlessly at Erin, ears cocked into an unspoken question. Erin responded by flinging open the curtains, letting brilliant clean light into the room and causing Meadowlark to yelp and duck his head back under the covers.
"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn why is day?"
"Because Celestia raised the sun and lowered the moon," Erin said idly, staring out the window. Thick, wet snowflakes pattered against the glass, leaving rivulets of clear window through the dried-on dust and dirt and piling along the sill. It was already a solid few centimeters, and it didn't look like it had any intention of slowing.
The landscape beyond was a field of white as far as the eye could see, even into distant Equestria beyond Canterlot Mountain. At least, as far into distant Equestria as anypony could see through the snow, which amounted to a few small farming villages on the outskirts of the capital. Still, it was clear winter's inexorable march down the mountain was well underway. Some of the other mansions dotting the horizon has already begun to string up lights.
"I mean, why am us awake in day?" Meadowlark asked, snapping Erin out of her thoughts as he pulled the comforter tighter around his nose.
Erin turned away from the window and trotted around the bed. "Because," she said, "I'm trying to wean you into it. It's noon. Most ponies were up five hours ago at least. Also, it's 'why am I awake in the day'. Technically during the day, but, baby steps."
"Most ponies are dumb," Meadowlark said. "Didn't you said that?"
Erin paused, tapping her chin. "Huh. Probably, but I think I was talking about something different. Probably my students."
"Didn't you also say we were Not-turn-nail?"
"Nocturnal," Erin corrected. "And you are. Sleep cycles can be altered, however. Think of this as a... test of your circadian rhythm."
"My what?" Meadowlark asked.
"Your sleep cycle."
"Oh." Meadowlark's head poked out, and his brow furrowed. "Us am up early because you are experiment?"
"Because I'm experimenting," Erin corrected. Meadowlark harrumphed, but Erin continued as though she hadn't heard him. "Anyway, there's more to it than that. You could use some more Equestrian practice."
Meadowlark sighed, but crawled out of the bed without any further resistance. He stretched, groaning loudly as he did so, though not loudly enough to cover the snaps, crackles and pops his back made. He grunted idly, shaking his wings out and taking a seat beside the bed and Erin poked at the remaining lump.
"That means you too, Nightingale. Come on, get up."
A stifled mumble came from deep within the bundle of sheets. "Do not want."
"I don't want to," Erin said.
"You don't want to," Nightingale responded, "I don't want to, so why are we?"
Erin didn't reply. Instead her horn came alight, and the covers flew off of Nightingale. He snarled, and both Erin and Meadowlark rolled their eyes. They knew full well the snarl was just for show. Even back in the forest, Meadowlark thought to himself, Nightingale had always resisted waking up for as long as he could.
"Fine," Nightingale grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Could have say please."
"When was the last time you said please?" Erin asked pointedly.
"Different. Am savage," Nightingale replied.
Erin snorted as Nightingale crawled off the bed, making sure he wouldn't just make his way back to it. "If you ask anyone around here, I'm a savage too," she replied. "And I still say please."
"No you do not," Meadowlark said.
"Hush up Meadowlark," Erin said, trotting past him with a huff. Meadowlark paused for a moment, his brow screwing up as he tried to decide whether or not she was being serious. Either way he shrugged, trotting out after her and Nightingale.
The three walked together through the halls in a tight group. Nightingale was still uncomfortable in the sprawling hallways of the mansion, his sharp eyes ever darting back and forth, as though he were suspicious of each and every torch and painting. Of course, Meadowlark couldn't blame him. Even after these few months in Erin's home he was still having trouble adjusting. It seemed like every time he turned down another hallway he found something new, and he had long since learned that Erin could be unnervingly calm around some startlingly dangerous objects.
So the twin bat ponies kept close to Erin, and to each other. They kept a wide berth of the hall of portraits. Erin had tried to explain them once, but somehow knowing what they really were - images of ponies long dead and buried - only made Meadowlark more nervous around them. He didn't enjoy being judged by living ponies very much, and he liked being judged by the dead even less.
After a few minutes of walking, Meadowlark was surprised to find himself relaxing slightly. A soft tune had reached his ears. It was a new song, and there was a sharp, steady clicking behind it that was new to him. Every few seconds the song would stop for a moment, and then restart, slightly different this time. Sometimes the song would start in the middle, going for only a few bars before stopping. He perked his ears, slowing down.
"Meadowlark?" Erin asked, looking back. "Something wrong?"
"Us hear music," he answered absent-mindedly. Is weird though. Keep... what did you said? Skipping?"
"Skipping?" Erin repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Well, I don't hear anything, but your ears are better than mine. I shouldn't have left a record on..." She frowned. Suddenly, her face lit up and she laughed, tapping her hoof against the ground.
It was Meadowlark's turn to frown, and he nearly managed a pout on top of it. "What?" he asked. "Did I used the wrong word?"
"No, no," Erin answered. "Well, yes, but it's not like you'd know. That's probably just Stage composing."
"What is composing?" Meadowlark asked.
Erin scratched her chin. "Mmmm, well, it's making music. Sort of. He's sort of... writing instructions for other ponies to play music. He likes the quiet when he's doing it, so let's not disturb him. This is the first time he's been commissioned in a while, and he's excited about it. Besides, we've got plenty to do today, don't we?"
"I remember so, yes," Meadowlark said. He followed after Erin, glancing once more to where the sound was coming from.
"Yay," Nightingale said without an ounce of enthusiasm. Still, he followed after them as the group made the rest of the journey into the lavish den that made their study room.
The room had changed a bit in the past months. Before it had been filled with luxurious antique furniture, all caked in years of the dust of disuse. The dust had been cleaned off, and the furniture less arranged and more disarranged, shoved up against the walls at awkward angles and dragged back into the center whenever necessary. The walls, white and gilt with gold, were still dotted with scraps of paper where Erin had once pasted posters of forests in an attempt to make the brothers more comfortable with the lab - though as soon as Nightingale was comfortable enough with speaking he made it very clear that they did more harm than good. Too many memories of the cage and the fake forest within.
Meadowlark sidled along the far wall, creeping by the desk Erin had brought in. A large cushion similar to the one he had slept on in the cage had been laid out for him, and he settled down into it, Nightingale joining him. Erin sat down in her tall chair, settling into it comfortably and peering at her desk.
"So," she said, brushing some letters around to find the notes she had made yesterday, "we were at, uh... let's see. Tenses, was it?"
"We did tenses," Nightingale said, nodding. Erin scanned her notes, and lifted a quill with her magic.
"Were doing tenses," she corrected.
"What?" Nightingale grumbled under his breath, adding, "You said did was right in past..."
"Only if it was a one-time thing," Erin said. "Today we're going to do advanced tenses. Because the study of tenses was ongoing, we use the... uh..." she paused, flipping open a book she had on the table. "Past progressive."
"How many tense is there?" Nightingale asked sourly.
"Are there," Erin corrected. She consulted the book, and said, "About sixteen."
"What!?"
"But practically, there's really only like, seven."
"Is still more than three you said before," Nightingale muttered. "Are you tell I there are more than two gender next?"
"That," Erin said, "Is a whole other can of worms. Let's not go there. So, Meadowlark," she said, turning her attention to the silent bat pony, "Care to guess at the past progressive of 'we jumped'?"
Meadowlark didn't respond, just staring at the cushion. Nightingale and Erin both stared at him expectantly. After a while, Nightingale snorted loudly. Meadowlark jumped, his ears snapping up and his wings snapping out.
"Huh?" he asked. "What?"
"Something on your mind?" Erin asked, flicking the book shut. "You're usually on your hooftips for lessons." She wore a faint smirk, but Meadowlark detected at least a small hint of concern on her face.
He looked down, feeling his face grow a bit warm. "Well, uh," he said. "Just thought about Stage, us think."
"Stallions do tend to do that," Erin said, frowning a bit.. "The bastard."
Meadowlark gave her an odd glance, which she waved off. Still, he shook his head. "What is commissioned?" he asked. "You said he have one of those."
Erin leaned back in her chair, rubbing her chin. "I guess I did, yeah. I... hm. Now how do I put it? My grandad was a painter, so I guess I never thought of it... but it's, someone pays you to make something."
"Pays?" Meadowlark asked, tilting his head.
Erin grunted louder, scratching her head. "Uh, money... I guess I haven't taught you about that. I guess it's like... someone kills a rabbit, and they give it to you? But you have to make something for them."
Meadowlark frowned, confused. For once though he wasn't confused by the thing itself. Just by the prospect that someone would want to do it. "Why?" he asked.
Erin shrugged. "It's different from pony to pony. It takes a lot of money, so they have good reasons usually. Some of them have an idea they want made. Some of them just want to support the ponies who make things. Others like to do it to get their name on it." She turned to the desk as though merely for something to do, fishing through some of the letters that littered the old wood. "Not this one, though. Stage was commissioned anonymously."
"What is?" Meadowlark asked again.
"It means he didn't give his name. Gods know why." She sighed, shrugging. She rifled through the letters, muttering over addresses to herself. Meadowlark breathed deep, and smelled cold and wet, and a strange stallion. These letters must have been delivered fairly recently. Which meant it would probably be a few weeks before Erin actually read them. As it was she simply shoved them out of her way, tossing some onto the floor as she organized her notes and uncovered some specific grammar books.
"Well, anyways," she said with a grunt, "Enough about Stage. We won't see any of him for a few weeks, I don't doubt. Then he'll tweak the bloody thing within an inch of its life, but at least we'll see him." She smirked. "And his husband will come over, which is always nice. But for now, Meadowlark: What is the past progressive form of 'we jumped'?"
Meadowlark's eyes widened, and his brows came together. "Um," he said hurriedly, "Umm... we did jumped?"
***
"We jumped," Meadowlark said, his eyebrows coming together in concentration. "We were jumping. We had jumped. We jump. We are jumping. We will jump. We will be jumping... and, um... mmf." He chewed his lip, his ears lowering.
"You've only got one more," Erin said helpfully.
Meadowlark nodded. "Yeah, it's... nn..."
"We will have jumped?" Nightingale offered. Meadowlark snorted, but nodded towards his brother.
"That one," Meadowlark said.
"That's right," Erin said. "Those are pretty much the only tenses you'll need to know for conversation. At least, unless you find yourself talking to an especially pedantic grammarian."
"What is pedantic?" Meadowlark asked.
Erin waved a hoof. "Stupid and annoying, really," she answered. "At least, as far as anyone who isn't pedantic is concerned. Anyway," she stretched her back until it clicked and cracked, and peered towards the clock on the wall, "it's getting on about five. What do you colts think about breaking for dinner, hmm?"
Nightingale's ears perked up, and Meadowlark rolled his eyes. If there was anything that could capture Nightingale's interest, it was the promise of food.
"Got any rabbit?" Nightingale asked.
"I'll check the cupboards," Erin said with a snicker. "You might have to settle for griffon takeout again. I think we've got leftovers, so at least you won't need to stalk the delivery boy again."
"You are the one who told us hide," Nightingale said with a huff. "We hide, food come. That end one way."
"Yeah, and it isn't jumping out of the shadows and scaring the poor colt half to death," Erin said. "Even if he was a dork."
"We never jumped out," Meadowlark pointed out, then paused. "We never had jumped out? We just watched him."
"The first one was right," Erin said, shoving herself of her chair. "And you shouldn't have done that much. You two shouldn't get too close to other ponies." She trotted past them, beckoning them to follow. Nightingale was up in a moment, but Meadowlark took a moment longer to clamber off the cushion, stretching his stiff legs and looking back at Erin's desk for a moment.
"Still, it's a moot point," Erin continued. "We've got griffon food to last a while, and if we need emergency rations I can always let you two out into the forest. I'd rather you two didn't even have the chance to see another pony for the next few months, and the way things are going I'll get that wish."
The doorbell rang.
Erin was silent for a while. At least, so it seemed. After a moment Meadowlark realized she was not silent, but that a slow, low growl was in fact rising steadily in her throat. "Ffffffffffff-" she growled, her eye twitching. She ran back to her desk, shuffling through her mail. "Shit," she hissed under her breath. "Shit shit shit don't tell me it's... shit!" She lifted a letter out of the pile, glaring at the writing on it. "I could have sworn," she muttered, cutting herself off.
Meadowlark took a step toward her, a hoof suspended in the air. He could feel the tension emanating off of her as she danced in place, her head jerking every which way. The doorbell rang again, the impatience of the ringer almost audible this time. Erin swore along with it, throwing her hooves around Meadowlark and Nightingale's necks. "Come with me." she said sharply.
"What?" Meadowlark asked, refusing to budge. Erin strained against him, for all the good it did. "Why? Where?"
"To somewhere!" she said. "And I'll explain later! I don't have nearly enough time to prepare as it is and every minute you're out here is another minute lost. Now move! Go! Get!" She threw herself into Meadowlark's back, staggering him with the force. After a few more shoves she managed to inch him along the floor a few inches, but that was as much as Meadowlark would take. He sat heavily on the floor, and glared over his shoulder at Erin.
"No!" he declared. "Not moving until you tell I why!"
Erin sighed heavily, her shoulders bunching up as she did. Then she looked Meadowlark dead in the eye, and for all her glower he had the impression that she was very frightened.
"Can we talk on the way?" Erin asked. Meadowlark blinked, but nodded and got to his hooves.
"Alright," he said. He walked along with Erin, who moved at a surprisingly quick pace. Even Nightingale seemed to feel the urgency from her, speeding along at her side instead of trailing behind as he usually did. Meadowlark got the impression that Erin was one more doorbell away from breaking into a run.
"Somepony is at the door," Erin explained through short breath. "I don't know for sure, but it's probably the inspector Jewel sent... I thought for sure he wasn't supposed to be here for another week or so."
"What is the inspector?" Meadowlark asked. He himself considered this to be a quite leisurely pace, and had much less trouble speaking than Erin. He thought about this for a moment, then decided to get all of his questions out of the way. "And why's he here?"
"And who is Jewel?" Nightingale chimed in.
"Um," Erin said, swallowing hard. "The inspector is here to see if my license to keep Large Animals is still valid," she explained. "Also if I'm storing the large animals properly." She gave a glance over her shoulder as they rounded the corner. "That would be you two. Which is why we absolutely cannot let him see you outside of the cage."
"How come?" Meadowlark asked, slowing slightly. "Why does he want us to be in that cage?"
"Because..." Erin said, faltering slightly. She slowed as well, looking back at Meadowlark. there was something in her expression he couldn't quite identify. "Because he thinks you're dangerous. It would... I can't convince him that you aren't yet. So he needs to not see you yet. Nopony can see you yet."
"Well... why not?" Meadowlark pressed. "We can show him, can't we? We have to be... not-dangerous at him."
"He won't stick around that long," Erin groaned. She waved her hoof, hurrying the brothers along. "Especially not with Jewel feeding him a load of... Jewel is the reason he's here. Jewel is convinced you two are some kind of killing machines because of what you did in Canterlot Park."
"Canterlot Park?" Meadowlark asked, tilting his head.
"Us home, you mean," Nightingale said. there was a hint of a snarl to his voice. "That was not us fault."
"I know that!” Erin shouted. She grunted, running behind the pair and putting a hoof on each of their rumps', shoving them forward. "He doesn't! Now move!"
They rounded one last corner, and Erin stopped them before a large, thick door that Meadowlark recognized as the library. Meadowlark had never been inside it - he didn't even really know what it was. All he knew is that whenever Erin had gone inside it, she had come out with altogether too many books for his taste. He shuffled his feet awkwardly in front of it. Erin, for her part, darted around him and hammered on the door.
“This will have to do,” he heard her hiss to herself.
To his surprise the music, which he had barely noticed in the rush, stopped. It was only once he stopped hearing it that he realized it had actually been quite loud, as though the source was just behind the door. There was a long pause, and the music started again, confirming Meadowlark's suspicion. It was indeed coming from within. He crept a bit closer, sniffing at the heavy wood.
Erin hammered on the door again, and Meadowlark jumped back from it with a start.
"I know you heard that, Stage!" Erin called in.
"And I know you said you wouldn't bother me," came a muffled shout from behind the door.
"I lied," Erin said, swinging the door open. She trotted inside, and Meadowlark and Nightingale followed her.
Meadowlark peered around, almost in shock. The room was divided into two stories, the walls of each covered from corner to corner in dark brown bookshelves, packed to the brim with books upon books upon books. It was apparent that at some time in the past somepony had run out of bookshelf, but had not seen this as an adequate reason to stop acquiring books. They were stacked in piles on tables along the back wall and on the stairs leading up to the second floor, some even spilling off the edges of shelves.
Meadowlark looked at his brother, shrugging his shoulders at an idle itch between them. To his surprise, for once Nightingale looked very interested in their surroundings. His eyes flicked from book to book, narrowed slightly. He looked lost in thought, so Meadowlark turned away, looking instead to Erin. She stood beside Stage, who was sitting at an enormous black piano in the center of the room.
Stage looked rather less than pleased, but he seemed to be making an effort to be polite. "Can I help you?" he asked, leaning on the top of the piano.
"Yes," Erin said tartly. "I need you to hide these two."
Stage raised an eyebrow, straightening up. "Hide them? Who's here?"
"The Animals License inspector, I think," Erin replied. Stage grimaced, looking over at the open door.
"And with a pursefull of Jewel's bits, no doubt," he said. "Alright. I needed a bit of a break anyways..."
"No," Erin snapped. "No breaks. We need to give him a good damn reason not to come in here, and you composing is the best we can get."
"Why would a Large Animals License inspector come looking in the library?" Stage asked with a scoff. Erin, however, had already turned on her heel and was making her way for the door.
"No risks!" she shouted over her shoulder. "This guy is gonna be looking for any reason to rescind my license. I checked the mail. They're doing research into my license history to see if it's still valid, we've got metal inspectors coming for the cage, charm inspectors for the memory spells on the forest, and a freaking tax audit. Jewel isn't backing out of his threats any time soon. I'm gonna need to be flawless if I want to get them out of my mane." She stopped, turning to face Meadowlark and Nightingale. For just a moment the hardness of her expression melted away, and she looked deeply sorry - and deeply worried.
"Guys," she said, her voice low, but still firm, "I know this sucks, but I really need you two to stay in here until I say you can come out. It's probably not gonna be the last time it happens, too. But the alternative is worse, so for once you need to do what I say, when I say it. That means you too, Nightingale," she added sharply. Nightingale shuffled his wings and gave a snort.
"Fine," he said after a while, turning away from Erin. She seemed satisfied by this, if a tad surprised, and turned to Meadowlark.
"And you?" she asked.
Meadowlark opened his mouth to speak, but found something holding him back. This entire situation made him feel uncomfortable. It had been a long time since he had felt it now, but he had the unmistakable notion that he was being caged, just in a different way than normal. Even so, he trusted Erin. Or at least, he wanted to trust her.
"Okay," he said, nodding. Erin nodded back, dashing out the door and slamming it behind her. In the distance, Meadowlark could hear the doorbell chiming again.
The three stallions sat in silence for a while. Stage leaned idly against the piano, rubbing his eyes while Meadowlark and Nightingale looked around. Meadowlark was more than content to view the library from where he was sitting, but that didn't seem to be enough for Nightingale. Nightingale spread his wings, jumping onto the railing of the nearest stairway to avoid the piles of books, and trotted up to the second floor. Meadowlark caught only a glimpse of him pulling a book off its shelf before Nightingale trotted deeper into the second floor, blocking him from sight.
Meadowlark snorted quietly at this development, and got slowly to his hooves. He would have a look around as well, he decided. Even if he didn't feel particularly inclined to go near any of the books. He wandered past the piano to a pair of broad tables. Each one was littered with books, some open and some shut, all tossed haphazardly across the surface where they had been cast. One of the tables appeared to have been dragged across the floor until it was within hoof's reach of the piano, the nearest corner more cluttered than any of the others.
Meadowlark skirted along it, sniffing idly at the tomes. He snorted at one, taking a sharp step back when the force of the snort caused the page to flip over. He heard Stage chuckle, and looked over at him with a faint blush.
"You're not afraid of it, are you?" Stage asked him.
Meadowlark waved his hooves vaguely, mouth hanging open in an unspoken defense. "Well, us..." he managed. "I do not know. It could be spellbook. These things are... weird. I do not trust them."
Stage chuckled again, but he reached out and flipped the book shut. "That wasn't a spellbook," he said. "It was a storybook."
"What is a storybook?" Meadowlark asked, tilting his head.
Stage leaned back on his stool, rubbing his chin. "I guess... it's like a lie," he explained. "Except everypony knows it isn't true, and nopony cares. Except because everypony knows it isn't true, they let it be real anyways, sort of. It happens inside their heads, but they still experience it, in a way." He paused, then laughed. "That made no sense, didn't it?"
"Not... really," Meadowlark admitted. Of course even if it had made sense to him, or even to a regular pony, it wouldn't have mattered. He was only half-paying attention, his eyes still lingering across the multitude of books, flicking back and forth, trying to take stock of every spine and page.
"Well, anyways," Stage said, shrugging, "It can't hurt you. Spellbooks, storybooks, any kind of book is useless without somepony to read it. The power is all in there, but if nopony reads it, it can't get out."
There was a sound of rustling and thumping form the second floor, as though a pile of books had toppled over. After a moment, Nightingale's head appeared over the railing, looking around. Meadowlark barely gave him a glance, though.
"Power?" Meadowlark asked. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I mean, spells and stuff," Stage explained. "But also not. In the case of stories there are... ideas. Thoughts. Those are powerful, once they get into somepony's head. It can change them, and they can spread it." He chuckled, patting his piano. "But like I said, if nopony reads them they've got no power. That's why I like music. You can't just choose not to hear music, and the moment you hear it those ideas are in there. In your head. There's no going back." He brushed his hooves over the ivory, smiling a far-off, wistful sort of smile at it. "Music can change a lot of ponies," he said. "Make them better. That's what I love about making it."
Meadowlark stared up at him, and took a step closer. He looked between Stage, and the piano, and back to Stage again. "Erin said," he said slowly, "that you are making music?"
"That's right," Stage replied. "An anonymous commission. He didn't have any conditions aside from me using this old legend: dead ponies who came to life, and ate freshly dead corpses to reverse their rot. Some legends say that once they looked 'fresh' enough, they’d try to eat living ponies to come back to life themselves." He chuckled. "A bit macabre, but the commission wanted it done by Nightmare Night, so it's probably appropriate."
Meadowlark nodded silently, trying to be polite. He hadn't really understood any of that, and for once he didn't really care. "How do you making music?" he asked. "I thought that machine made music?"
Stage gave a sharp, sudden laugh, but his expression faded when he saw Meadowlark's turn hurt. "You really don't know?" Stage asked. He leaned back, adding, "Well no, I guess you wouldn't... I'm sorry. You two took to Equestrian so fast sometimes I forget that you... well, aren't." He reached back to the table, grabbing a book and gesturing for Meadowlark to come near. Meadowlark did as he was beckoned, though he felt his heart tighten slightly as he got closer to the book. It was large, but flat and a bit floppy. Stage flipped it open, revealing its contents to Meadowlark: lots of long, thin bars dotted with strange symbols.
"This is music," Stage said.
Meadowlark stared at the page, then up at Stage, then the page again. He frowned. "No it is not," he said. "It is... well... things." He didn't know quite what it was, of course, but he wasn't so dense he thought it was sound.
"Yes it is," Stage assured him. "Well, sort of. This is called sheet music - what you're seeing are music notes. They're like instructions for making music. Here." He set the book open on top of the piano, and tapped the page. "This note here," he said, "is a G. So to play it, we press this key here." He placed his hoof gingerly on the keyboard, pressing one key down sharply. Sound rang out, brilliant and clear, shooting through Meadowlark's heart. It made the music from the record player sound like nothing more than static and noise. He felt himself begin to shiver, and his breath came shallow.
"Wh-what," he asked quietly, shuffling his wings, "Was that?"
"Music," Stage replied with a smile. "From the piano. You've only ever heard a recording... a copy of the sound, played later. Music from a real instrument sounds different."
"It more clear," Meadowlark said with a nod. It was many other things, too. Everything he had felt when he first heard the record player seemed amplified. "It is so... better. How?"
"Recordings lose something," Stage replied with a shrug. "Or gain something wrong. I don't know. But hearing it live is just different. We're not even in a very good room for it. The books eat too much sound."
"You mean it will get better?" Meadowlark asked, turning to look at Stage with a jolt. Stage leaned back, rubbing his neck.
"Uh, well sure," he said. "Depending on things like the shape of the room you're in, music can sound better or worse. Carry further... stuff like that. The overall sound is the same - which is why I'm okay with composing in here - it's just more crisp."
Meadowlark sat back. The concept of it was amazing. Music even better than better. "Wow," he said. "Us love to hear that..."
"Maybe you will, some day," Stage said. "One day this thing of mine'll get performed, so maybe you'll get to hear it on Broadbay."
"Not soon," Meadowlark said, his good mood fading some. "Erin doesn't seem like she'll ever let us out... she doesn't even want other ponies to see us. I don't know why."
Stage smiled softly, laying a hoof on Meadowlark's back. "She has her reasons," he said. "In a few months, you'll..." He paused. "Well," he continued after a time, "I shouldn't say. Just... trust she's got her reasons."
Meadowlark didn't respond. He knew there was something hiding in the answer. Probably something important. He felt the now-familiar tinge of frustration, but didn't say anything. Instead he just sighed, laying his hoof on the keyboard.
"Would you like to learn?" Stage asked.
Meadowlark blinked. "Huh?"
"The piano," Stage said. He gestured to the book on top of the piano. "Like I said, I could use a break... and if you're so interested in music, well, maybe you'd like to learn to play? I could give you a quick lesson, and it'd keep the music going so we don't get suspicious."
Meadowlark stared at Stage for a while, then down at the keyboard. He didn't even need to think about the answer, but he did anyways. He wondered if Stage was trying to distract him - if he had gotten too close to some secret Stage didn't want him to know, and he offered Meadowlark something he knew Meadowlark wanted. Still, if Meadowlark was aware of the trick, he could at least watch for it. Or at least, so he reasoned.
With a slow, wary nod, Meadowlark turned to the keyboard. "...I would like that," he said softly. "A lot. I like music."
Stage smiled wider. "Then we have that much in common," he said. He rolled his shoulders, spreading his hooves out across the keyboard with a flourish. Meadowlark stared at him for a while, wondering what exactly he was doing.
Stage sighed faintly, chuckling as well. "Well, maybe we're a bit early for showing off," he said. He adopted a much more normal pose, flipping through the music book and tilting it towards Meadowlark. He pointed at the top of the page. "This song is called 'Hot Crossed Buns'. We start with a C... here," he said. He placed his hoof over a key, then took it off to make way for Meadowlark. "Give it a try."
Meadowlark swallowed, placing his hoof over the key. For some reason, he found himself quivering inside, as though he were afraid to push it. If simply hearing the music had sent such a shock through him, he could hardly imagine making it. But then, he could hardly have imagined beds a few months ago, or houses or heating, and all those things were wonderful. He breathed deep, exhaling in a heavy sigh. He pressed his hoof down.
It felt like thunder struck him, thunder made of ice. There was more than just the sound, sharp and crisp as a singing bird. He felt his hoof tingle as the key reverberated beneath it, the tingles traveling up his foreleg and into his heart. His heart beat fast, and he felt himself break into a grin, ear to ear. He pressed the key again, feeling that same shock of icy thunder. He became aware that he had been so tense - not now, but before. He felt his entire body relax when he pressed down.
"Hah," he said happily, for a moment almost barking with excitement.
Beside him, Stage smiled knowingly. "Make that two things we have in common," he said, almost to himself. "Are you ready to continue?"
"Y-yes," Meadowlark said. He still beamed down at the keyboard, and he placed his hooves over it with more confidence now. "Us am ready," he said.
"Alright," Stage replied. "Then our next note is D..."
There was a sharp rap on the door just as Meadowlark pushed the key.
The sounds mixed together into a strange, sharp sort of noise, like the sound of somepony being alerted. Meadowlark's head snapped to the door, and Stage started violently. Upstairs there was another sound of falling books, making it clear that Nightingale had been startled by the rapping as well. All three fell instantly silent. Meadowlark held his breath and his hackles stood on his neck. He felt a warning growl rise in his throat, but he kept it down. Outside the door, muffled voices could be heard.
"What are you doing?" a voice demanded. Meadowlark recognized it as Erin, sounding about as displeased as she had ever been. Another mare, somepony whose voice Meadowlark didn't recognize, answered her.
"That would be called 'knocking on the door', Erin." the voice replied.
"Thanks, I can see that," Erin grumbled back. She lowered her voice, such that Meadowlark had to strain his ears to hear. Erin continued to speak. "I mean, why are you knocking on the library? I told you, My brother is in there composing."
"And what, I'm not allowed to pop in and say hello to him?"
"Not when he's composing, no. He hates being disturbed when he's composing, and he can be an even bigger bitch than I am. I'd expect you'd know that by now, Close."
There was a pause, before the stranger answered. "...Maybe. On the other hoof, I'm sure you could probably out-bitch him by a wide margin if he had your license revoked because he refused to let me have a look around."
Erin scoffed. "In a library? Would you seriously expect that I was keeping two wild animals in a library? Come on Close, even I'm not that eccentric."
"I'd argue that," The mare called Close replied. "I believe I once found you using a rubber mouse to play with a Jaguar."
"I wasn't playing, I was researching. I wanted to see how much of their instincts domesticated cats retained. Anyways, a few toys in an enclosure is nothing on the level with keeping an exotic species in a library. I realize you and I don't always get along, but you must, at least, give me the respect to assume I know how to do my job, otherwise you may as well get out of my house right now."
Once again, there was silence. Meadowlark swallowed, shimmying off the bench. He felt Stage try to grab his foreleg, but he shrugged Stage off without a thought. He had no idea what was going on out there, and that made him nervous. He needed to know, and to know he needed to get closer. He crept, inch by inch, to the door, and pressed his ear against it.
He could hear movement outside. A largish mare was shifting on her hooves. That must have been Close. Erin hardly made a sound. She barely moved. Meadowlark imagined that she was giving that singular stare of hers, like her entire being was focused on thinking unpleasant thoughts about you.
Finally Close spoke again. "Alright," she said. "I'll give you that much. Still, my instructions were to be thorough. Extremely thorough."
"Your instructions," Erin repeated. Her voice was tart, like she had smelled something foul. She leaned back though, relaxing. "Let me guess who gave you your instructions..."
Close cut Erin off. "The request was anonymous," she said. "But all of the papers were in order. They gave a lot of good reasons to. Newly acquired specimens, and through a pretty dubious means at that. The desk workers have been going over your case for a month and they're still not sure if it's legal. You may very well be precedent setting, here. Not to mention the... nature of the things you've got." She leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, despite there being nopony listening... or so as far as she knew. Meadowlark shied away from the door slightly, wondering for a moment if she knew he was there. He swallowed, assuring himself this could not be the case, and leaned in again.
"Is it true what they say?" Close asked. "About those things you got? Are they... monsters?"
There was another bout of silence, and this time Meadowlark could hear Erin shifting uncomfortably. "Monsters..." she said, almost to herself. She repeated the word, this time saying it like an insult, like she found the notion of it darkly amusing. Meadowlark wished that he knew what the word meant. "Monsters," Erin said. "No, they're not monsters. There's no such thing as a monster. You ponies, you call anything strange a monster... Hydras, Manticores, Dragons. They're just animals, same as any other." She spoke again, softer this time. "They're the same as anything else."
Erin sighed, and Meadowlark had the impression she was rubbing her neck. "You know exactly who this is, Close. You know what's going on as well as I do."
"Yeah," Close admitted. "Maybe. Still, that doesn't mean that this is nothing to worry about. Jewel is out for blood, you know that? You have any idea how hard I had to fight to get this assignment?"
"Well, don't think I don't appreciate it, Close," Erin replied. "I don't need to tell you how relieved I was to see your face at the door instead of somepony else..."
"Instead of Keen Eye," Close remarked. "Jewel requested him specifically."
"Wonderful," Erin said. This time Meadowlark was sure that she rubbed her neck. "Seriously, we need to get out of here. Stage is composing, and I'm not going to be able to keep my voice down when we start talking about this."
"Are we talking about this, now?" Close asked.
Erin snorted. "Of course we are. Why would I even let you in here if I didn't think you had information on that moron? No, I'm going to take you to my lab and show you their cage, and give you all my notes on them so far, and you'll tell me what Jewel is up to and then go back, give your report, and I'll pass until the next time Jewel finds something to sue me for."
Erin's voice had begun to fade as she spoke, accompanied by soft hooffalls. Meadowlark could hear Close shifting in her hooves, then she trailed after. "Alright," the mare said. "I'm not just going to pass you outright, though. I'm here to do my job, one way or another."
Erin began to speak again, her tone teasing, but behind the thick door Meadowlark couldn't make it out. Without thinking he reached up for the door handle, and realized that Stage's hoof was on his shoulder.
"Meadowlark!" Stage hissed as Meadowlark looked back at him. "What are you doing? Do you want her to hear you in here?"
"Us was not making any sound," Meadowlark said quietly. His eyes narrowed at Stage. Stage's concern confused him. He knew Erin didn't want him seen, of course, but he didn't understand why it was such a big deal. Erin didn't seem to have any issue about being seen, after all, so why should it be so much worse if he was?
Nightingale appeared, poking his head out over the balcony. "Ponies can not hear," he said coolly, settling down and draping his forelegs over the edge. "Bad hunters. She no hear us."
Stage's eyes narrowed in confusion for a moment, and he shook his head. "You don't know that," he said.
"You do not hear," Nightingale pointed out. "Us follow you some time. You just walk still. No door, too."
Meadowlark watched as Stage bristled, obviously trying to keep himself calm.
"When were you following me?" Stage demanded. He shook his head then, stomping his hoof. "No, nevermind. Look, nopony can see you, especially not Close. For your sake and Erin's, it... it would be bad, okay. You've gotta stay in here. Got that?"
"Week ago," Nightingale said, beginning to rock his hooves. "You walk to face hall. Stare at the close one. another pony come, and he poke your nose, and you poke his nose, and you go to your nest. Us want to know why you poke nose."
Stage gawked at Nightingale, completely forgetting what he had been saying.
"You - you followed me? That was private!" He hissed, trying his best not to shout. He grunted and growled wordlessly in a vain attempt to articulate his anger. Nightingale, however, didn't care. His cold eyes flicked to Meadowlark, and for a moment their gazes met. Meadowlark knew exactly what Nightingale was thinking. It was the same thing he was thinking. Why would it be so disastrous if they were seen? Who was this new pony? What was a "monster"? Meadowlark nodded. Nightingale returned the nod, the movement of his head almost imperceptible, and turned his gaze back to Stage, who had managed to recover himself some.
"What is private?" Nightingale asked, egging Stage on. While he did, Meadowlark turned sharply, pulling open the door as quietly as he could, and slipping out without a sound.
Once in the hallway Meadowlark spread his wings wide, the tips brushing along the walls. There was very little air to catch here, but he did his best. He skipped and jumped along the floor, letting his wings keep him aloft and extend his jumps in a ghostly speed.
Erin and Close's voices had long since faded, but he didn't need to hunt this time. He knew exactly where they would be headed, and he knew exactly how to get there. He spied Erin's lab at the end of the hall in no time at all, and he could hear the two mares’ voices from within.
"...Are supposed to be where, exactly?" It was Close speaking. Meadowlark slowed to a crawl, lowering to the floor as he crept towards the door. It was open just a crack, as always - Erin could never be bothered to close a door, after all. Meadowlark peered through the crack, shallowing his breath until it made no noise. Close and Erin were standing in front of Erin's desk. A small gem was floating in the center, and what looked like a half dozen windows were above it. Through each window was a different scene of the forest behind the mansion, each fairly far apart from what Meadowlark could tell.
"Hard to say," Erin replied. "I can only cover so much of the forest before the see-stones would start to interfere with each other." She shrugged, glancing sidelong at Close. "Even if I couldn't, from what I gather they're stealth predators. They've got a pretty surprising amount of endurance, but they seem to stalk and ambush primarily. If they don't want to be seen, it'll be pretty hard to spot them.
Meadowlark's eyes narrowed. Was she talking about him? She knew that he wouldn't be out in the forest. He kept closer, swiveling his ears to hear more clearly. Close's voice was tired, and a bit sad.
"Great," she said. "I'm gonna need a bit more than that, Erin. For all I know you're just covering for the fact that they escaped."
"Impossible," Erin said sharply. "I've got them locked up tight. They're no worse than a pack of timberwolves. You can check my notes if you want to be sure... or I can prove it to you."
"Prove?" Close asked. "Prove how?"
Erin's horn lit up, and the windows closed suddenly. The stone of the desk was sent away, replaced by another, smaller stone. Erin held this one in her magic with something approaching reverence, like it was a rabbit before her starving belly.
"I'll show you," Erin said, her voice lowering until even Meadowlark could hardly hear it, "but you have to promise you won't say anything about it to anypony."
"I have to say something," Close remarked.
"No specifics," Erin insisted. "Just tell them I'm right, and they're safe. Understand?" She spoke with such force and determination that Close stepped back from the smaller mare. Meadowlark felt the intensity too. Whatever it was was more precious to her than a life-saving meal. It was... Meadowlark couldn’t put a word to it, but she wanted whatever it held more than he had ever wanted something before in his life. He swallowed. A knot had begun to form in his stomach.
"Alright," Close said after a while. "I just want proof. Show me."
Erin nodded, setting the gem down. It began to spin, and with a spark another window appeared above it. On this window, Meadowlark could see a small rabbit grazing. It stood for a while, immobile save for to nibble on grass. Long enough that Close began to get impatient.
"What am I looking at exactly?" she asked.
"Hush," Erin said, her voice full with that same sound of desire. "Watch."
For a moment the image in the window seemed supernaturally still. Then, all at once, the bushes around the rabbit exploded. Nightingale shot down from above, landing in front of the rabbit and roaring soundlessly. The rabbit darted away, only for an image Meadowlark himself to appear, snatching the rabbit in the time between instants. Close yelled loudly, stumbling backwards.
"What the hell was that?" she demanded, clutching at her chest.
"Those," Erin declared, "were the animals under my care... those were the bat ponies."
"B-bat ponies?" Close stammered. "Those... those were ponies? But that one looked like... like he was going to eat that rabbit."
"He was," Erin said simply. "They're predatory omnivores. Rabbits seem to be their primary prey, although I think they can take down larger animals, like deer."
Close gaped at Erin, shaking her head in dumb silence. She managed to compose herself, though. She swallowed hard, and shook her head again, sharper this time. "Those," she said after a while, "are not ponies. I mean, I get the name, but... jeeze, Erin. What did you find?"
Erin just shrugged. "I found... animals. New animals. Nothing more, nothing less. Just like the rest of them." Her enthusiasm seemed to have faded a bit with Closes reaction. Her eyes were cast down now, staring at the gem on her desk. "Is that all the proof you needed?"
"I... yeah," Close said. "Those things are pretty good at hiding, I guess." She shifted her weight, staring at the now-frozen screen. The image of Meadowlark with his jaws around the Rabbit filled the screen. Close shuddered. "Creepy things, aren't they?"
Erin shrugged again, but she took longer to do it this time. After she did, she stayed silent. "I thought you'd be better," she said suddenly. "I mean, you work with animals too... sort of. I'd expect it from Jewel... he never understood. But you... I thought you'd be better."
It was Close's turn to shrug. "I can stare down any kind of animal without flinching," she said. "It's different when they look like... that. It's unnerving. It's unnatural." She turned away, looking like she meant to pace, but looked back at Erin. "Did you say Jewel saw these things?"
"He did," Erin nodded. "Before me, I think. They attacked his cousin. He was at the guard house when I found them there."
"They attacked a pony? I'm surprised they weren't put down."
"They didn't do much damage," Erin said with another shrug. "Superficial wounds. Jewel wanted them put down anyways."
"Hmm," Close said quietly. "So that's why he's on the warpath..."
"Jewel?"
"Yeah," Close said, nodding a bit. She sat down, rubbing her shoulders. "He must have really hated them from the get-go... I've been at this job for years, you know. Decades. I know how the system works. Jewel came in with the old head of the department. Must have 'hired' him for council. They did their damnedest to stack the system. They went through your records, hunted down every single demerit and stacked them up. Anonymous request for inspection or no, he made it pretty obvious he was the one who filed it. If you hadn't been so obsessive about your work, my visit wouldn't have been anything more than a formality. As it is you don't have anything to worry about from me. You're practically perfect this time around, even in spite of not being able to show me the..." Her voice faltered, and she swallowed. "...things.” She was silent for a time, and Meadowlark thought he could see her shivering. “He's not gonna stop there, you know."
"I know," Erin said, sighing. " She stared at the gem for a while more, before trotting over to join Close. They sat down, staring at the wall beside the door. Meadowlark shrank away more.
"I know," Erin said again, almost to herself this time. "I know Jewel. I've known him since we were foals... you know, for however much we hate each other... for however much the Jewels and Smileses have hated each other for centuries, I sort of respect him? My father told me he respected Jewel's father once, too... they're dedicated. Passionate. Almost obsessive."
"That seems to be a quality of old money, doesn't it?" Close asked with a wry laugh. Erin smirked.
"Only the good ones," she replied. "But he'll keep coming. He'll find some way to get his hooves on them. Or try, at least. Until he kills them. He told me so himself, and I believe him."
Meadowlark's stomach twisted, and his heart froze. Kill was a word that he had only learned lately, but it had a meaning he was intimately familiar with. Fear was not something he had associated with it before. That was new. In spite of himself, he shimmied closer, so close his nose almost poked through the door. He watched the pair intently, making up for their strange, dour calm with near-panic.
"Well..." Close said, very carefully not looking at Erin. "Are they worth saving?"
There was silence, for a while. Meadowlark saw Erin's neck bristle. It comforted him, strangely. It was familiar, at least. "They're the only ones of their kind we've ever found," Erin said. Her voice was quiet, but the hardness had returned to it. "They're important."
"Maybe there's a reason for that," Close said. "I... Celestia, Erin, did you see their eyes? It looks like -"
"Yes," Erin said sharply. "I saw them. Almost familiar... ponies forget." She smirked, laughing with a sudden, dry sort of humour. "It's almost funny the first time, isn't it? How you fight it. How could they possibly be ponies? They stalk. They hunt. They kill. They kill just to be alive. But there they are. You see those eyes, and..."
"They can't be ponies," Close said. It wasn't a question. There wasn't a hint of a question there.
Erin breathed a deep, heavy sigh and got to her hooves. "They're important, either way. A new species. Big stuff... I'm going to be showing them, you know."
"Showing them?" Close said, looking up at her. "To whom?"
"Everypony," Erin replied. "A conference, during the Summer Sun festival. I'll reveal them to the world, there. Well. Just the scientific community first, but word will spread. I know it will. Before long they'll be famous."
"And you with them?" Close asked.
Erin peered at her sidelong. "Maybe," she said. She was silent for a while. Then she cantered to her desk, snatching the gem away. The image disappeared, and Erin spun on Close. "Out!" she demanded sharply. "Out! I have work to do. Not long enough to prepare, especially not if I have Jewel breathing down my neck, but he'll be out of my mane as soon as I reveal them. So you go back, and you tell them I passed inspection, and you let Jewel know that there's nothing he can do to get his hooves on them. Not now, not ever. I don't care what he thinks they are or what he thinks they deserve, they're here." Her enthusiasm had returned hand-in-hand with a fierce determination, her eyes burning bright in her tiny head. "And you let him know that some day soon, he and everypony else is going to understand what that means."
Close got to her hooves slowly, obviously not as inspired as Erin. Meadowlark was, though, leaping to his hooves the instant Close made a move for the door. He was on the move back to the library before Close even though of what might be behind it. He moved far faster to leave than he had to come, perhaps faster than he ever had.
He felt light. He felt empty, save for the twisting, burning sensation in his stomach. All the words flashed through his head, barely defined but perfectly understood. He slowed when he came near the library, staring out a nearby window. The sun was starting to set, casting an orange glow off the snow. It looked cold. He felt cold. Outside, the wind howled.