//------------------------------// // The Deal // Story: A Sweet Taste of Cake // by The Descendant //------------------------------// Chapter 5: The Deal Being Quarry means that you have been pursued, that they have pounced on your moments of weakness and used them to rip away parts of you. You have determined never to show weakness again. Being Quarry means that you started a shipping company. It means that somepony took out an option on your lease of an airship from the bank. When the bank failed, you lost everything. Being Quarry means moving on, trying everything, only to have everything stolen from you in backroom deals and leveraged options and the games played with imaginary money on stock charts. Being Quarry means that you landed in Ponyville. There something happened that had never happened to you before. You made a friend. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Clyde watched her skip along, watching happily as Pinkamena made her little game of flipping the rocks. She sang to herself as she made them rest once more upon the good earth, letting them grab at these last few rays of the light that the sovereign's sun draped over them. The rocks filled with magic, pulling it up from the very earth and drawing it from the sun. It would be a good crop this year, but it was his child and not his harvest that sat at the forefront of his mind. Geoculture was not her world and he knew it. As he too began scouring the landscape, he looked at all of his beautiful daughters. Clyde saw how they communed with the land as good earth ponies should, but he knew that their hearts were not in it. This was not their world, and someday they would have to leave, would need to leave. Pinkie would have to leave first. This life could not keep her long, and no matter how many parties they consented to throw, they could not help her attain the life her mark had planned for her. Clyde sighed, kicked at one of the myriad rocks that littered the ground around the long acres of his farm. Her humming stopped. Clyde lifted himself, panned his head across the panorama of his fields. His eyes settled on Pinkie once more, and at first he was confused. Suddenly he saw his daughter light up, saw the wonderful energy stir within her. He could not help but smile as her face went wide with a vast smile, as she began to hop around in happiness. "Poppa, poppa!" she called out. "Come and see what I found! I found the neatest little thing and, and… it's a thing!" He smiled as he began to trot across the soft earth that was wet with the chilly dew of autumn. As he did, he realized that a frost could not be far away. He, as much as any other farmer, agricultural or geocultural, would soon have to harvest the fruits of their labor or risk having it locked deep within the frozen earth. Inkie and Blinkie trotted up to him. At first the pair followed him, peering around him with cautious curiosity, but soon they were pelting forward as Pinkie began to laugh and smiles lifted across her face. Upon reaching his daughters, he saw something upon Pinkie's foreleg. Inside an instant, he relaxed and smiled, realized that it was nothing more than one of the harbingers of the autumn now unfolding. "Tis' a Woolly Bear caterpillar, dear, and a fat and fair little fellow at that! See the bands of black?" he said, pointing out the two deep shades at either ends of the tiny creature. "Even the least of the creatures in Equestria can know how the pegasi shall set the winter, thus is the magic in all things that live beneath the sun of Celestia." "Even us earth ponies?" called the girls in time. Pinkie giggled as the creature crossed up her foreleg to her shoulder, its bristles tickling her. "Aye', us too," he said, watching the sisters pass it gently between them, each of his darling daughters giving small giggles as it crawled past their shoulders, their withers, over their necks, and down their backs. "Come now, let us find it some space of comfort and be back to our work," he said as he turned and set his sights on the tree line beyond the farm. As they went, the girls still passed the caterpillar between them, watching it with interest. Suddenly a horrible realization shot through Clyde, the realization that his daughters had never taken the time to do something as simple as lift a caterpillar, commune and sense the nature of this world. His eyes went once more to Pinkie as they reached the trees. As she pranced up and down, she selected a fine tall ash tree, and with that, Inkie lifted the caterpillar to the leaves. As the leaves had already been tinged with autumn shades, the caterpillar was soon lost among them. With sad sounds the ponies turned back to the fields. As he saw Pinkie bounce along, he heard her try to compose a song. As she did, she stumbled through the verses. To his consternation she used the word "orange" to attempt to describe the leaves of the coming autumn, and with that, her rhyming shut down and his filly tripped through the fields of rock. She was growing into her mark so quickly, he realized. Her perceptions were expanding in so many ways. Yet, he did not know how to help her. Even an event as simple as finding the caterpillar had swirled around her, caught in her love of surprise and new things. It had brought them all this new experience and a simple moment of joy, and still he did not know what to do for her. He closed his eyes and made a small Invoke. "Do not worry," answered a divine voice on the breeze that flowed out of the woods. "It moves… it comes in time." He though could not hear it. The laughter of his daughters had already filled his ears. As Clyde watched them run and call to one another his features were serene, and he breathed easier in the cool autumn air. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The main showcase room of Sugar Cube Corner had gone quiet, the customers and their holiday tidings having departed as the mid-morning rush dissipated. Cup Cake looked out the windows and saw that the pegasi were drifting down a few flakes, just as scheduled. They were decorating the city, giving Ponyville that last little dusting that would make Hearth's Warming Eve that much more picturesque. A family went by the window, the foals filled with excitement. Cup Cake went to the window. Certain unanswered Invokes went through her as she watched the foals walking beneath their parent's legs. She listened as they made cries of anticipation that seeped into the bakery. She placed her hoof to her body. A certain sadness lingered there. Frost was growing at the corners of the window, and as she watched, it seemed as though the crystals themselves were expanding before her eyes. Cup Cake heard Carrot's voice, heard him humming a holiday tune. It was the same one that she had begun as they had worked together, and soon her thoughts turned to rejoining him. She trotted back into the kitchen. As she looked up she saw him working on a few other small details as the gingerbread house came closer and closer to being ready. She watched as Carrot tentatively added some small pieces. She smiled as he deliberated upon where to place the last few structural elements: the shutters, the chimney, and the trim. As he rested his head in his hoof, he sighed. Carrot looked up to her as the big white waft of frosting still sat upon his nose, and he gave a smile of resignation. He was calling on her again, calling on her to make a decision, just as he had hoped that she would make long ago. With soft hooves she began to cross to the table, but as she did, she felt herself brush against something. She looked down and saw a bag. Opening it, she gave a small gasp as a silver package expertly tied with fine ribbons and a large bow revealed itself. She looked up to him, held it in her hoof. He too shared her gasp, realizing what they had just done… the mistake that they had made. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "So, I found a company that was willing to make you a loan offer on what I consider fair terms," said the realtor. Carrot did his best to listen, tried to comprehend the talk of money and interest rates. However, terms did escape him. All Carrot knew was that he was sick… sick of Cupcake and himself being apart. Ivory had left just as summer was winding down. Already her presence was keenly missed; already the toll on Cupcake was obvious. He opened his bakery just in time to make a bid to make the snacks for the school district, the special treats that fueled the young minds through the morning of learning. To no one's surprise more than his own, he had won. The money was no fortune, but it certainly was something. It was proof that he could bake for a living. Cupcake was spending her time getting ready as well, that he knew. She seemed a little lost without Ivory near, and in those times when she came around to the shop, he tried to fulfill his promise to Ivory, to be everything he could for this mare, to try to give her his comfort. More often than not, he found to his happy relief, she was very, very willing to accept his affections. But as the time went on, he had realized that she had moved towards helping him at the shop. What should have been an amazing and happy revelation for him instead filled him with worry. He did not want her to be his employee… he wanted her to be his lover, his friend. She had begun making plans. He had found drawings she had left behind when she trotted off at night to wherever she was living now. Her idea was clear: to change the building, make it an advertisement. He gazed over a picture of his bakery wrapped in colorful trim, looking more like a gingerbread house than a structure. He had to admit, it was clever. Not exactly the most manly thing he would have thought to put on his bakery, but… clever. At the moment, though, autumn was setting in, and soon the dry season would start for the catering business. He did everything he could to take her mind off the fact that soon she would be furloughed from Canapés catering business, that she would be unemployed like he had been. Together they went for long walks through the Whitetail Woods, or went up to a nearby farm to go apple picking, selecting the biggest fruit to take home to the shop. Some days they would just sit and watch the colorful trees bob on small breezes. As they had walked through the Harvest Fair, he had bought her knick-knacks from stalls, done his best to win her prizes, done all that he thought a proper coltfriend was supposed to do in such a setting. Her laughter when he had fallen over backwards as he tried to lift the hammer to ring the bell, or when the ball had bounced back and struck him in the nose at the dunk tank… that wonderful sound reassured him that she knew what he was doing, appreciated how happy he was trying to make her. As they had sat together, she wrapped warmly in his forelegs, staring out into the fair as the lights flickered on, he had felt a powerful realization. It was then that he realized something about "The Game of This," the intangible secret that was still filling her and making her worry. She had given a happy sigh and then yawned, wiped her head against his chest as the music of the midway had floated over them. It was then he had realized that "This" was like a carnival game. He may be playing it, but it was playing him right back. It was in competition with him. As long as "This" existed, then these fleeting moments, these all too short hours together, this is all they would have. He did not like not being able to walk her to wherever she was living. He hated not being able to draw the fear and worry out of her. He hated the almost inescapable urge to sneak along after her, follow her after their goodnight kiss, risk shattering the trust she had placed in him. He was starting to hate "This" again. Hate it utterly. He wanted to see what her body was like when she was free from worry. He wanted to look into those rosy eyes when they were not filled with a long, drawn-out plan. He wanted to see her liberated from her worry, only happy… Carrot began to blush slightly, even as he and the realtor went up the high street of Ponyville, even as the grey and bespectacled realtor went on about interest rates and mortgages. Carrot felt himself being drawn into his own happy thoughts… the thoughts of her, warm, safe, and happy to be near him. The amber-colored colt let an image slip into his mind, let one that he had been nursing gain just the slightest bit of traction in his conscious thoughts. It filled him as they went down the cobblestone streets, the weight of his saddlebags shifting around him. In his mind's eye he saw her in the bed, his bed… the very bed at the top of the stairs in the room above his shop. He saw her lying there, a soft look across her face, a happy look as she slept peacefully. He felt her along the length of his body as the night air washed over them through the open windows… "Ahem!" came the voice of the realtor, snapping Carrot out of the contemplation that was sending a rather serene look across his features. "We're here," continued the grey stallion as he reached for the door of the loan office. Carrot looked up and tried to figure out where exactly the realtor had brought him. The building was short and half-timbered. It was a simple yet robust place. He gazed upon the sign painted in the window, trying to read it in the midday sun. "Hospitable Loan and Trust" it read in a rather nondescript font. Below it read the name of the proprietor, owner, and loan officer. All the titles were rolled into one, all of their ellipses leading to a single name that stood out boldly. It was a short, strong name, one that caught against Carrot's thoughts. At once the name that lay there caught inside his memory, ignited something within him that he desperately knew he should remember. He looked at the name once more, tried to think of where he had heard it. At once he felt of the hooves of the realtor upon him, shoving him to the ground, interrupting the chain of memories that was linking him back to the name. As he hit the ground there was a rumble, and a wild horse whinny. He looked up to see something that awakened all of his remembrances. The massive stallion stood in the doorway, and on the ground there sat another stallion, this one holding his head. To Carrot's horror, blood began to drip from the stallion's ear. At once all of the happy thoughts of his ladylove lying in moonlight emptied out of him, dripped away as surely as the red droplets that were falling from the terrified stallion before him and plopping against the cobblestones. "I'll-I'll sue you for that! That's assaul…" he began. "You try! You try and we'll see what the law has tah' say 'bout the thousand bits you just stole from me!" answered the stallion in the doorway, his eyes wide and fierce. "But-but," continued the smaller stallion, struggling to rise from the ground, "I-I didn't…" "You didn't what? You didn't think I'd find out!? Think that yer' too smart for me, ya' buckin' piece of trash!? Ha! Ah've been robbed blind by smarter bucks than you!" answered the huge stallion. With a toss he threw all manner of papers out over the bleeding, whimpering stallion that stood in the street. "I'm takin' all the collateral, the deposits too," answered the huge, rippling stallion as a touch of foam gathered in the corner of his mouth. "You're liquidated. Try takin' it tah' court, see how that works for ya'!" The stallion barely moved, yet his angry eyes still caught Carrot in their glare. "You mah' 12:15?" the massive stallion hissed. "Yessir," Carrot whispered. "Gimmee five minutes tah' clear up a bit," said the stallion, beginning to shake and tremble as though he were literally trying to drop the anger out of himself. "Yessir," answered Carrot. Inside an instant the stallion had turned back inside the loan office. Carrot's head went back to the sign. The name stood out as though it was made of a luminescent magic, highlighted and bolded as it flew through his memory. His thoughts flew back over months to the start of the summer that had now passed, back to the day he had seen this pony similarly enraged, standing in front of the mill. Quarry. The loan officer was Quarry. As he sat in the reception room Carrot watched the secretary readjust a few things and then go back to work as though she barely noticed him. Carrot rummaged through his saddlebags and made sure that all of the papers were there, and the little container too. Despite the realtor's assurances that he would be fine, Carrot could not help but notice that he had not bothered to stick around. A new wave of cursing went through the room beyond the door, and at once Carrot and the secretary looked up towards it. Carrot turned back first and looked down into his saddlebag. He looked up just in time to see the secretary staring at him over her glasses. "Don't sweat it, Sweetie," she said with surprising certainty. "What, what should I do," asked Carrot with a touch of desperation, "if he gets mad?" "Try to go limp," she answered. At once he heard the stallion call him, and even as he stood, he felt his body already following the offered advice. "C'mon and have a seat," spoke the stallion, the grey eyes already affixed to Carrot as he entered the room. Carrot was surprised by how sterile and how utterly unadorned the office was. No plants, no inspirational posters, no family photos… just the desk, the cabinets, the two chairs, and the stallion who regarded him balefully. "Good-good afternoon," said Carrot, "I'm here because you-you're high-highly rec…" "Where in the Well do I know you from?" interrupted Quarry, the huge stallion leaning across his own forelegs and regarding Carrot with a suspicious glare. "I-I worked at, I worked at Mr. Ledger's mill," said Carrot, forcing himself not to tremble. "Oh," replied the stallion as he leaned back, "should'a recognized the name. Carrot Cake. You quit the mill, Cake?" "Yes, well, no sir, no… Mr. Ledger knew, knew that I'd be going when I found something that… that matched my mark. He-he does…" stuttered Carrot. "Yeah, Ledger does that. Done that for a lot of colts and fillies. That's one of the things I like 'bout Ledger," spoke Quarry without lifting his eyes from Carrot. "He's a good stallion, they're good ponies." Carrot was surprised at how much more relaxed and calmer Quarry became when he mentioned Ledger's name. His tone and volume dropped as though in reverence. "If Ledger sees somethin' in ya', Cake," spoke the vast stallion, his voice a low rumble and his eyes still judgmental, "I'll hear what ya' have to say." It never became easy in that room; the feeling of menace that flowed off the stallion never dissipated. Yet as Carrot went through his practiced lines, he thought about why he was there, about how getting this loan would allow him to finish buying the equipment he needed. It would allow him to open up his shop to walk-in patrons rather than just ponies he was contracted to. Something of Carrot's simple joy filled his words. Even when he came to the hard part, the part about numbers, he just let the image of Cupcake fill his head. The thought of her with him in the kitchen, the idea that she wouldn't need to work a job to help him, could just be there with him. This image filled his mind even as he looked up to the large stallion who gazed down on him implacably. With her in his mind, the rest became that much easier, if not easy. When he spoke of her, he did not use her name, instead a different word came to mind, a word that he realized spoke more about them than just how they were working to grow his business. "Partner" he called her, his partner. She was not an employee after all … he wanted her to see him as her lover, her friend, and her partner. This last bit he kept in his own head, as Quarry did not seem to him to be the type to be swayed by romantic notions. Quarry lifted his head as Carrot told him about how he had won a contract with the school district, how his clever partner had gone from market stall to market stall finding sellers who could sell breads with their products. In one day they had won five contracts in such a manner. Quarry seemed impressed… sort of, maybe. "And, and th-that's all I have to, say, really," said Carrot, dropping his head. At once he remembered something he had wanted to do. With that Carrot opened the tin and placed it on Quarry's desk. There in the mess kit stood a piece of carrot cake, a slice very much like the ones that made up his mark. Quarry stared at it for a second. With a wicked smile he took it in hoof and looked to Carrot. "Cute," he said as he lifted it to his mouth. The stallion chewed slowly and gave a little nod. With that he slid a piece of paper in front of Carrot. As Carrot looked it over, he could barely read. Quarry was walking around the bare room, chewing on the carrot cake loudly, watching Carrot as he read. A sudden shock went up Carrot's back. He realized in terror that the stallion had one of his hooves on his shoulder. Trembles of disgust went up Carrot's spine and the deep, wet smell of the stallion's breath drifted over him, tinged by the slight smell of the carrot cake. "Ya' know what the stupidest statement in all of Equestrian history was, Cake?" asked the stallion, his voice once more a rumble, his breath once more thick across Carrot's face. "No, sir," spoke Carrot, giving a shudder. "It was this: 'It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission'," said Quarry, looking over Carrot's shoulder as he read the paper. "The son of a bitch who said that smirked as he said it, then asked for mah' forgiveness." Carrot swallowed hard. "I'm told he still walks with a limp, Cake." Carrot closed his eyes, tried to fight for breath. "Those are fine terms there, Cake, good ones. Ledger likes ya', sees somethin' in ya'. That means something to me. I think you've got some plans, and I'll back ya'. But, Cake, if you try to lie to me, try to steal from me, or if I think you've used me…" Quarry looked down, saw the paper shaking, and knew he did not need to go on. "You got a name for this place, Cake?" asked the stallion, removing himself from hovering over Carrot. Carrot felt himself breathe again, and as he exhaled, he spilled the name across the desk. "Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc.," he stated in a voice that betrayed how very much he understood Quarry's meaning. "That's a damn lousy name, Cake," replied Quarry, sneering as he stared out the room's sole small window. "I'm-I'm thinking of changing it," said Carrot, staring up to Quarry as he tossed a quill upon the desk and pointed to the small bottle of ink. "See that ya' do… sign the buckin' paper already." As Carrot left the office, the secretary was surprised to see him smiling. She was even more surprised when Carrot laid one of the other pieces of carrot cake on a napkin across her desk. As she thanked him, he left, his head held high and a great fat check in his saddlebags. "He seems like a nice young colt," said the secretary as she began to nibble on the little offering. "Meh…" answered Quarry as he looked out across the reception room with no expression evident on his face. Outside, Carrot trotted happily towards the bank. Now he felt that everything else would fall into place. Now Cupcake could leave the catering job and would not have to find another one. Now they could spend that time together in the bakery. Now they were that much closer, he believed, to winning "The Game of This." As the light of the autumn day fell through golden leaves around him, Carrot was unaware of something very important. He could not know that "The Game of This" had just been upset by his act. He could not know that he had just committed a bitter offense and that a yellow card was now being held high over all he wished and hoped for.