The host led us out to a table in back; the noise of inside mostly stayed in, as people here were quieter, listening. A late teen girl with a guitar was providing the live music, accompanying herself through a neo-Celtic ballad, occasionally swinging her long red hair back out of the way as her head-bobbing freed it. She ended her song as we reached the table.
Shankar, realizing I couldn't sit until Lyra was off my arm, pulled out a seat for her. She focused intently and tried to lower herself into it. One hand on the table, one hand on the seat-back, which Shankar had to hold in place. She hesitated partway down with a look of mild panic, but resumed and made it without complaint.
The host missed this as he was fetching our waitress. Shankar and I knew the menu and so didn't need to think about what we wanted. And we had nothing to say, really - we were equally rapt Lyra-watching. She in turn was rapt playing with the utensils, the plastic cover of the menu, then watching how the others were eating. When the guitarist started up again, she stared like the guitarist was entering the combination on a safe Lyra needed to crack.
Watching intently was a simple enough thing to be doing that Shankar and I didn't find it so fascinating. "So." I asked him. "You seem to be treating her as legit."
"Yeah. Did you listen in while we were walking here?"
"Not closely. Something about the electrical wires and TV?"
"Yes. She groks waves. She knows trigonometry."
"So?"
"Rhiannon doesn't know a sine from a chord."
"Umm, isn't a chord a kind of line segment? And sine... I remember what the curve looks like, but I don't remember what it's for."
Lyra filled in without diverting her eyes from the strings, "If you start at twelve o'clock on a unit circle and go around it clockwise, the sine is how far to the right of your starting point you are, while the chord is the distance from your starting point. The chord is equal in magnitude to twice the sine of half the angle." Looking to us, she added, "As I said, I'm in Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns."
Shankar gaped. "The chord... wait a moment. Huh, yeah, that works! I hadn't noticed that. Anyway, as I was saying, convincingly not Rhiannon."
Lyra finally broke eye contact with the guitar to turn to him, look him in the eye, and say, "Thank you."
He nodded, and she slowly turned back to the guitar.
I asked, "So, what do you study back home?"
"Music."
"Oh! So this was a good choice."
She smiled. "Yes, it was!" Lyra's smile said she was under a lot of stress and this was a break from it. I couldn't imagine why she might feel under the slightest degree of stress, of course.
"What do you play?"
"The lyre."
Shankar and I shared a glance. I said, "Seriously?"
"Yes. Got my cutie mark in it... not that non-ponies get those, so you probably don't know what I'm talking about."
Shankar said, "Quite."
"Just a magical symbol signifying my special talent."
"So, unicorns get special talents and merit badges?"
"Oh, not just unicorns - every pony. Earth pony, pegasus, unicorn, or alicorn. Even zebras and giraffes, but not donkeys or cows."
Our wings came. Lyra stared. The moment I saw, I realized. "Ponies don't eat meat."
She closed her eyes. "Ponies can't talk here." A deep breath. "I remember eating near some griffons. It smelled like death." She sniffed. "This... doesn't. I wonder if this is what it smells like to them?" She looked up. "Are you - we - obligatory carnivores?"
"No. Shall I order a salad?"
"I'm not all that hungry." Of course. I just fed Rhiannon. "And... well, wait. I know ponies who fish, and eat the catch. And we have pet cats and dogs, and they eat meat. And anypony who's grazed has eaten bugs. I... I guess I can try it. Or I won't. Go ahead, anyway."
Shankar and I slowly began eating. Lyra went back to watching the music. When the song ended, her attention drifted back to the plate. After a minute, she tentatively reached for a wing, concern playing across her face. She held there for another minute, not quite taking one.
And then the musicians changed - the next played the dulcimer. It was flat on a high table, so we could see the player's fingers poised as he expressively hammered out something slow and harmonically dense, with lots of lingering notes. The crowd was surprisingly quiet, and we could actually hear them pretty well. I pulled the plate out of the way so Lyra wouldn't get sauce all over her fingers as her hand sank to the table.
Shankar was grinning. "Now this is what I was hoping for when I suggested we come here. Just wait for the fast songs. This guy's great."
"No, I suggested we come here."
"What? Are you sure?"
"Yeah. You were all 'what do we do now if no movie?' and I said, 'O'Malley's'."
After a moment's thought, he carefully said, "No, you were the one who ruled out going to the movie. I remember reacting to that."
"Doesn't matter. So, Ly...ra." I looked around. Lyra was missing.
I looked around for Lyra: over towards the player, expecting her to want to get a better look. She wasn't standing there. I got up and went in the back, to the ladies' room. Not there either. Which reminds me, we'll need to get that sorted out before it becomes urgent.
I headed back out, but ran into Shankar heading in. "She's not around the side, and she didn't join any other tables."
"I'll handle the check. You look outside."
He didn't much like it when I took charge in emergencies like that - or when I covered the check. But I was the one with a real job. So he grimaced, but he did leave as I'd suggested. I went to the host and paid up, and did one last sweep. As I was leaving, I heard a guest behind me telling the host, "... curled up on the ground." That caught my ears, so I reentered and followed them out back, past the tables. Lyra was lying on the rug, head on the feet of the dulcimer player, who hadn't missed a note. He spared us a glance and a smile.
The host recognized her, then noticed me. I whispered, "I'll take care of it." The host accepted that. I sent a text to Shankar indicating I had her, and set my phone to silent.
Then I crouched down and shook her shoulder. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at me with confusion. I helped her up and guided her back to the table. She got back into her seat with much less help this time. Leaning in, I said, "You have a bed at home. Sleepy?"
She yawned, and laid her head on her hands.
Shankar made it back to the table as the dulcimer player started up a new song at high speed. This woke Lyra up a bit. After a few moments, she said, "What just happened?"
Shankar and I shared our fifth confused glance of the evening. I said, "We were hoping you could explain that."
"I've never done anything like that before, and I don't know why I did."
Shankar interjected, "What was it?"
"Lyra used the musician's shoes as a pillow."
One finger raised for clarification. "Was he in them?"
"Yes."
"Were they comfortable?"
"Shankar!" - "Not really."
"Just trying to find an explanation."
We returned to listening and watching the performance. The third number started with him singing in some language we didn't know, and feathering some of the strings.
Lyra began to sort of roll out of her seat. I pinched her. She sat up briskly, and frowned. "Wha... it was happening again?" We nodded.
She watched intently, focusing on staying awake and in her seat - she periodically pinched herself.
Finally, to give herself something to do, she grabbed a wing and bit down. The effects slowly spread through her body in waves. First, the spices hit her. Then the true flavor. Self-revulsion at eating meat, rationalization. Disgust at the unfamiliar texture, then the third wave of flavor. I can say this with some authority since she described the experience to me at length later on.
That one wing occupied her for two minutes, and she wasn't done with it when the dulcimer player sat down between her and Shankar.
"Are you a unicorn?"
He was joking, obviously - and just as obviously she took it seriously. "Yes. How could you tell?"
He blinked. Then twice more. "Well, umm, the, umm. The virgin trap? Well, what were you doing if you didn't know about that? I thought it was hilarious, if a bit presumptuous." He blushed and added, "I'm Jack."
Shankar asked what I was wondering: "Virgin trap?"
"Yeah. If you want to find a unicorn, you get a virgin to play music in the woods. Keep it up long enough, and a unicorn will pop up and go to sleep on the musician. At least, that's how it's supposed to work." He'd seemed confused as he explained, but that expression melded into mischief as he went on, "It relies on there being a unicorn being within traveling distance, and unicorns are somewhat scarce these days. Or I'd been led to believe so."
Lyra said, "I wonder whether that's really unicorn-specific, or it's just that only unicorns have ever made it here. Is the same said of pegasi?" She blinked. "Sorry - I'm Lyra. Sorry about...."
"Nice to meet you, and don't worry about it. You're welcome any time." Gesturing to his head, he said, "You're a lot less horny than I imagined." Then he grinned a little, trying to hide it. Looking back on it with the benefit of online research, he must have been going for the double entendre intentionally, referring to the habit of unicorns caught in the virgin trap to rape their captors if they got the chance.
"This isn't my body. My true body does have a horn."
Jack nodded sagely. "I see. And where are you from?"
"Equestria... Ponyville, though I'm studying in Canterlot. Speaking of which... where are we?"
I answered, "Manville", and Jack noticed us for the first time. Turning back to Lyra, Jack asked, "So, how did you end up with these fine folks?"
"Exchange program. This is Rachel's roommate's body." He just sat there blinking once more. She added, "Do you know where I can get a lyre?"
"The instrument? Yes. I have one back at my place. Why?"
"I'm a lyrist. I'd like to see what it's like to play with my toes." She wiggled her fingers.
I put in, "Fingers, Lyra. Those are fingers."
Jack closed his eyes for a solid second. "Well. I've never really used it. I don't know how good it is, but you're welcome to come up to borrow it. Aa-and, so that isn't creepy, I mean you can all come over and get it together."
Shankar coughed and said, "Jack, she's 13."
Jack looked back and forth between them. "Okay, the last ten seconds have turned this from a weird pickup and funny conversation into 'X-files' territory. Lyra. You..." He crossed his eyes. "Seriously?"
We all nodded.
With a cock of his eyebrow, he said, "Whatever. Let me pack up the dulcimer."
I'd been worried that Lyra would continue to aim herself at him, but she passed up several opportunities to crash into him or grab him. When we made it outside, Jack asked, "So, seriously. Where are all the other unicorns?"
"Equestria. My turn. Umm. What kinds of humans are there?"
Blank looks.
"Like, him." She pointed to a seraph statue above a Catholic church we were passing. "What's he?"
Jack replied, "An angel. But they're not human. They're halfway between human and God."
"Oh. I think we call those, 'birds'."
I understood what she meant immediately and facepalmed. Jack was confused. "So birds have human bodies in Equestria?"
"No, that doesn't make any sense. What would you even mean by halfway between, then?"
Jack got stuck with his mouth open as he struggled with the misinterpretation, then finally threw up his hands. "Oh come on. God is the creator of heaven and earth. Separated the light from the darkness, created seas and dry land, the plants and animals, and people. He is love."
Lyra raised her eyebrows. "Wow! Your world must be positively utopian!"
"Umm... how do you figure?"
"Well, our world was created by Contradiction, who created the light and the darkness, water and land and air. She also spawned Discord, who set them against each other so they could no longer be the same things - and in so doing, killed his mother. Discord also created the victims and the killers. Some of the greatest killers, the dragons, despised the lesser ones, and manipulated some of the victims to be able to defend themselves against the lesser killers. Thus were the three modern types of pony created.
"In time, their powers grew. Once they had sorted out their differences, they created the alicorns, who combined the powers of all three - and in some cases, such as princess Celestia, were extraordinarily powerful. They defeated many of the killers, and then Discord himself.
"They ended Discord's victim/killer system over most of the land, and only since then we have lived in harmony. So, by comparison, a world with one creator who is made of love ought to have a neater history."
Jack had stopped walking partway through that, flabbergasted. I gave her a clap on the back. "Congratulations! You have discovered the Problem of Evil."
She blanched suddenly. "Wait. Are you killers? What do you even mean by 'love'?"
Jack was taking deep breaths. "Love is what we aspire to - to be greater than our inner killers."
Lyra swallowed. "And how are you all doing on that?"
I couldn't help it - I hugged her. "Pretty danged well. Relax."
Jack turned and led up the driveway of a mcmansion (okay, maybe he didn't stop from shock, just being home). A dinner party was on, visible through the front windows. As we came to the portico, he said, "Sorry, looks like I didn't take long enough at the restaurant. How about I bring the lyre down for you?"
Lyra nodded eagerly, and he disappeared inside.
Shankar looked like he was going to ask a question, but before he could even compose it, Jack was back with the lyre.
It looked like a wooden toilet seat with a bib. And strings.
Lyra accepted it hesitantly. "This is a little different than I'm used to, even aside from having to use these." she wiggled her fingers. "Actually, wait a moment. Do I still have my magic?"
She concentrated.
Shankar giggled. I gave him a harsh look, and he explained, "Made me think of Fooly Cooly." Once he said it, I was almost ashamed I didn't think of it first.
Lyra gave up and laid her fingers across the strings. "All right. Let's see. Seven strings. My options are a bit more limited - I'll have to either pluck, or strum and dampen. Hmm."
Jack offered, "It was meant to be strummed and dampened."
She nodded, and, setting aside what he'd just said, immediately plucked each string to see what tuning it was in. It wasn't. "Not heavily used, is it?"
"Been sitting in the corner next to the greatsword for about fifteen years."
Examining the head, she asked, "Have a tuning hammer?"
Jack led us back to the garage. It was loaded, and well organized. A square socket wrench of the appropriate size had to be in here. Jack began scanning for the appropriate tool as if in a library.
I murmured, "Allen wrenches, gerbil feeders, lyres, electric heaters..."
Shankar caught the reference right away. "Yeah, it does look like that, kind of, doesn't it?"
Then I remembered as Jack handed her a socket wrench fitted up to be a tuning hammer. "Lyra, do you need to go to the bathroom?" Before there was an opportunity for a hilarious misunderstanding, I clarified, "To, ah, empty your bladder or intestines, say?"
She didn't look up from her adjustments as she replied, "I know what bathrooms are for, and I'm fine." Barely ten seconds passed before she amended, "But given the trouble I've had moving around, maybe I should give myself some wiggle room. Jack?"
"Certainly, my lady." We followed him the back door. The sounds of conversation softly emerged from the front, but there was a lavatory right next to the rear entrance. As we were about to open the door, he asked, "How would you like it tuned?"
"Pick something reasonable. I'll figure it out." As he retreated to go do that, she faced the commode and concentrated. "So. I noticed that... well, I foresee difficulties. How do you do this cleanly?"
I tapped the toilet paper roll.
She looked at me in horror. "That's it? Just clean up after the horrible mess you have from having these lumps of fat on either side?"
"They're not fat, they're muscle. The biggest muscle in your body. But yes."
"And the hair? That seems like a terrible place to put hair."
"Yeah, thank the blind idiot god for that."
She frowned. "A blind idiot god made of love. Umm."
I facepalmed again. "A nickname I heard for evolution a while back." By way of Lovecraft, but let's not get into that just right now. "Jack and I... differ on the origin of life."
She started crying.
Confused, I said, "Umm, I'm sorry. Does that idea really bother you?"
"Ah! I saw her! I was right there!" Something was odd about her tone. "Oh goddess..."
"Well, yes, but she's there and we're here."
"I know that! That's the problem!" Rhiannon screeched. There was no doubt that we had Rhiannon back.