The pony was acting paranoid, and he knew it. But he was one of the most powerful ponies in all of Zaldia, and by extension, one of the most closely watched. The Guard Department - Guardia Saila, which most Zaldians shortened to the Guarsai – had eyes and ears everywhere, even here, in the pony’s own residence.
So he scanned, and looked physically, and used both his own magic and that a magic monocle that he had created some years ago at great expense. But at length, he found the room was empty, devoid of any kind of scrying sensors or other listening devices, just as it should have been. And so the pony went to the center of the room, looked around one more time, and then uncovered it.
“It” wasn’t much to look at, just a mirror – at least, at a glance, to any who couldn’t detect magic. Even amongst those who could, it certainly did not seem to radiate any kind of catastrophically powerful magic, because it indeed did not. It was a speaking mirror, half as tall as the pony who was now looking into it, connected via magic to a hoof-held mirror that was currently in the possession of…somepony else. It was a rare but not unheard of artifact, with a useful but by no means illegal enchantment that was something of a specialty amongst Zaldian mages.
Of course, being a communication device, the true power – and the true danger – of the mirror lay not in what it could do, but in who it could reach.
The pony pressed a hoof to the mirror, his horn glowing a pale blue color as it activated the magical device. It flashed once, and quite suddenly rather than looking at a reflection of himself, the pony found himself looking the blown-up image of a red-coated pegasus, his wings, hooves, and body clad in golden armor while his mane and tail were made to look like billowing flames. “Why are you calling me?” The pegasus demanded without introduction, in Zaldian that was passable at best. “Again?”
The pony glared hard at him. “Because, O Voice of the Sun, I did not get to where I am without keeping one eye on everything. You are in place?”
“Very nearly. My salamanders say that we will be there within the hour.”
“Your ssalamanderss?” A voice, coming from the mirror but out of sight, asked incredulously.
The Voice of the Sun – Kindle was his real name, but the pony in his study could understand and appreciate wanting to make oneself grander via the acquisition of titles – ignored the comment. “The question, then, is if you are ready.”
“I am.”
“There can be no backing out – ”
“Do not speak to me as though I do not know the risks!” the pony interrupted. “I have been doing this, Kindle, since before you were born. The skeletons in my closet could fill a graveyard full to bursting. This is the penultimate move in a plan decades in the making. Whatever benefits you may acquire in the process, you and your Queen are tools, nothing more.”
Kindle bristled. Pegasus emotions were so easy to read, thanks to their wings doing all the emoting for them. Raised and splayed wings were the giveaway here, arched forward, ready to push Kindle forward at the object of his ire – despite said object being some miles away and on the other side of a mirror. “You will not speak about the True Queen that way!” he demanded in a tone of voice used only by true fanatics. “Queen Celestia is Sol Invicta – she is no mere pawn!”
The pony avoided rolling his eyes. “We all have our part to play in each other’s schemes,” he said, his voice almost conciliatory. “Play your part in mine, Voice, and I will play my part in yours.” When a third bridge is built, the pony mentally appended – a Zaldian euphemism meaning ‘never.’ But Kindle didn’t need to know that he had no intention of subsuming Zaldia to Equestria’s will – nor supporting Corona the Tyrant Sun’s bid for power there. He had his own designs.
Kindle looked in no way happy with the pony, but he had been given a mission by his Queen, bid to aid the Zaldian, and he would not disobey her. He nodded curtly, snorted, and deactivated the mirror on his end. The pony in his study was surprised at that – Kindle was a pegasus and should not have been able to interact with a magic item so. Evidently the Tyrant Sun’s boon extended to more than just the appearance he now wore. The pony resolved not to forget that, as he covered his magic mirror once more, and then trotted over to a nearby window in his study, glancing out. The window looked southeast, and from its vantage point he could see the broad, hilly fields and foothills of eastern Zaldia and, much more closely, the city of Gotorleku Hiria, the capital of Zaldia on whose outskirts his own estate rested.
“Soon,” he decided. Very, very soon. But not quite yet. No, first, he had to finalize arranging his plausible deniability – and his scapegoats.
---
Zaldia.
Even now, part of Trixie couldn’t believe that she was actually here, within the Platinum Kingdom. Occupying part of the eastern coast of Cissanthema, north of Cavallia and east of Equestria, it was a mountainous, rugged land for the most part that had steadfastly pursued a policy of independence from Equestria and her exarchies. Still, it was no hermit nation. The Platinum Kingdom, as its ponies liked to refer to it, maintained generally friendly trade relations with Equestria, mostly in the form of imports from the vast network of trading posts and small colonies that Zaldian merchants had established in Maghrib, Farasi, Shouma, Occidenta, even distant southern Cheeron, bringing products from those continents back to Cissanthema and ensuring that Zaldia was possessed of wealth that belied the size and natural resources of the homeland.
That wealth had gone into building up the capital city of Zaldia, Gotorleku Hiria, to be unlike any other city that Trixie had ever seen. At a glance, seen from the foothills far below, Gotorleku Hiria would have looked much like Canterlot – a city tucked away onto a mountain. But any detailed examination of the city showed the differences immediately. Not content with a single mountain, Gotorleku Hiria stretched across three nearby peaks, with a pair of long bridges connecting the northeastern and southwestern portions to the central one. Zaldian architecture also favored tall, thin buildings that reached into the sky, towers in silver or black or white that curved as they ascended, laced with platinum filigree. There was a fortune in the construction material alone of the city. And even Trixie, who had grown up in Equestria with stories of the Tyrant Sun driving her to take shelter every noon as per a thousand-year-old tradition, had watched entranced as sunlight played off of the walls and roofs of the city’s tall buildings.
“We need to get along better with the Zaldians,” she decided aloud as she looked out the balcony of the hotel she was staying at, front hooves perched on its railing.
Lyra glanced up from where she was sitting, a couch within their hotel room, though she said nothing as she focused on practicing playing her lyre. The mint unicorn was here as a further step on her musical career; the famous zitherist Ohar Garai had extended an offer for a duet concert with Lyra’s mentor, Octavia Philharmonica. Octavia, however, had been tied down by other obligations, but had recommended Lyra as a replacement, noting that lyre music would probably compliment a zither better than a cello would anyway. Lyra and Ohar had communicated via letters several times since then and arranged the concert for tonight – something of a routine performance for Ohar at the city’s Royal Auditorium, but potentially a major career-making move for Lyra, as playing alongside a musician like Ohar would be quite the feather in her cap.
Trixie was here for dual purposes; she was attending the concert in support of Lyra, of course, but the day of the concert had happened to line up with an already-scheduled meeting between her, in her capacity as Princess Luna’s apprentice, and a Zaldian pony named Kristal Zati, the apprentice to Ispelu Magikoa, High Mage of Zaldia. Princess Luna wanted to meet with the High mage of Zaldia, but getting through the complex, almost intentionally impermeable social mores of Zaldia was difficult even for the Alicorn of the Night and required multiple stages of preparation, of which Trixie and Kristal meeting was only the latest. Trixie was not looking forward to what would undoubtedly be quite the headache.
Trixie came back into from the outside, shutting the balcony door as she did. Beautiful or not, Gotorleku Hiria was also cold at the moment, the drawback to being located several thousand feet above sea level when Spring was still new. The chill had been invigorating for a moment, but she didn’t fancy getting hypothermia. “Alright,” Trixie said as she trotted over to the small desk in the hotel room, gathering some papers together. “So, first thing’s first, breakfast for the two of us. Then you go to Ohar and I go to Kristal. You get to have fun and I get to bang my head against a brick wall.”
Lyra chuckled as her hooves made familiar motions across her lyre. She would have preferred more time to practice with Ohar than right before the concert, but in sharp contrast to the rest of their society Zaldians preferred their concerts, even the important ones, to be as impromptu as possible, any mistakes made during it considered a natural and even important part of the show. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
Trixie rolled her eyes. “I don’t even speak Zaldian,” she said. “Kristal Zati doesn’t speak Equestrian.”
Lyra paused in her practice at that. “Then how…?”
“We both speak Prench. But I just know that he’s gonna have something to say about me.” Trixie turned around and sat back, waving her hooves in the air. “Hon hon hon, Lunesianan Prench, zis is not real Prench! No, it is a regional patois zat actual Prench ponies despise! I am insulted, hon hon hon!”
Lyra chuckled once more at the incredibly fake accent that Trixie had put on, resuming her practice. “You’ll deal with it. Is he even Prench?”
“I don’t think so,” Trixie said, as she lowered her hooves and resumed packing up. Technically, actually, nopony was really Prench anymore – the country had been largely absorbed into Equestria several centuries back, though Zaldia itself had taken some of its northeastern marches – but she didn’t think Kristal Zati was of Prench descent, either. “Which might make it worse. Hon hon hon, I have studied Prench in ze grrrreatest academies! Your Prench, zis is not how it is spoken! My tutors say so!”
That earned a full laugh from Lyra, and she used the excuse to set aside her lyre and start packing it up for the trip to the auditorium. The relatively thin air of Gotorleku Hiria was having an interesting effect on her acoustics that she resolved to make sure she took into account at the concert.
“How do you think Ponyville’s holding up?” Lyra asked as the two made their way from the hotel room, heading for the elevator that would take them to the first floor – a luxury that basically didn’t exist in Equestria, but given how tall Zaldians liked to build their buildings Trixie wasn’t surprised that they’d be more ubiquitous here.
The blue unicorn waved a hoof as they entered the elevator, nodding politely to its operator and indicating that they wished to go to the ground floor. “Everything’s fine, I’m sure. It managed to survive near the Everfree before I arrived there, I’m sure it can last a month or two without us there.”
It was Lyra’s turn to roll her eyes at that, though Trixie raised a good point. Following a diplomatic trip to the Griffin Kingdoms that their recently-acquired duties as Knights of the Realm had required, Princess Luna had hit on the idea of sending the bearers of the Elements of Harmony on what amounted to a series of diplomatic visits with Equestria’s neighbors. Given how the six of them had come to bear and to some extent control the most powerful magical artifacts known to Ponydom, Princess Luna’s hope had been to show that the wielders of said artifacts were just ordinary ponies, no threat to the surrounding nations – essentially trying to head off an international version of the difficulties the six had experienced with the Night Court in the first few months of bearing the Elements.
The upside to this was extraordinary travel opportunities, but the downside was being away from their hometown of Ponyville for several months. It constantly seemed like they’d only just gotten home when the Princess would have some new trip lined up for them, which they couldn’t exactly refuse – not when most of it was being done on the Princess’ coin, anyway. If Lyra hadn’t known any better she might have thought that Luna was getting some small revenge for some of their actions at the Grand Galloping Gala.
So really this trip to Zaldia was a three-parter, then. A concert for Lyra, a diplomatic meeting for Trixie, and the two of them just wandering around Gotorleku Hiria for a week or so being friendly with the natives and answering any questions the Zaldians had about Equestrian intentions for the Elements. Somehow. Without speaking Zaldian.
“Wait, if neither of us speak the language, how are we supposed to do this?” Lyra asked as the two of them reached the restaurant, which was named in Zaldian and had a menu posted outside, also in Zaldian.
Trixie waved a hoof. “Easy as pie,” she said, strutting confidently up to the restaurant’s host. “Mahai bi personentzako, mesedez.”
“Eskuin modu honetan,” the host replied. A unicorn, her gray telekinesis grabbed a pair of menus, and she escorted Lyra and Trixie to a table near the restaurant’s front window, affording a view of the street outside. “Norbait izango duzu laster,” they were informed as they took their seats at somewhat rough but certainly serviceable seating cushions.
“Eskerrik,” Trixie returned as the host wandered off. She turned to Lyra, smiling. “Page of everyday Zaldian phrases for a traveler. I used my memory-spell on three of them. For the next twenty-four hours I am a master of the Zaldian language – ”
“Arritxu Egunon,” said a pale blue unicorn that seemed to appear from nowhere. “Nire izena Perfektua Denboran da, eta zure zerbitzari gaur egingo dut. Ezin dizut edan ezer lortu?”
Trixie and Lyra both stared at him. “Trixie?” Lyra asked.
“W-well…” Trixie said, “maybe not a master. Um…” she looked to the unicorn. “Ez Ekwestriko hitz egiten duzu?”
The pale unicorn blinked a few times in confusion.
“…Parlez-vous Prançais?” Trixie tried.
Lyra let out a sigh.
---
My little pony, My little pony
Ahh ahh ahh ahhh...
My little pony –
We're as close as friends can ever be!
My little pony –
So come on take a trip with me!
A big world tour; new people to meet
New sights to see; and new things to eat
When you're seeing the world with your friends
The fun you'll have will never end!
You have my little ponies –
We'll be seeing all of you real soon!
---
The Royal Auditorium – Errege Auditorio – of Gotorleku Hiria was one of the few structures that went in for width rather than height in its construction, though it still favored the austere black-white-and-platinum coloration of most of the city, and its entrance was a long tunnel of twisting filigree metal. Its interior was much more familiar to Lyra, however – a stage with a long row of seats leading down to it, sloped so that nopony’s view would be blocked by the pony in front of them. Several boxes for VIPs lined the walls, and the stage itself, curtains currently drawn back, revealed a concave wall that would serve as a natural amplifier for sound.
Lyra glanced around as she stopped just inside, taking in the sight. Equestrians didn’t often get to play in the Auditorio – for that matter, Equestrians weren’t that common in Gotorleku Hiria to being with. The Zaldians were fiercely independent as a rule, an ancient rival for Cavallia to the south that, in turn, made them wary of Equestria, Cavallia’s closest ally. While Zaldia was willing to trade with both during its more friendly periods, most of that trade happened on the border or in the coastal cities. Equestrians were by no means forbidden from journeying inland to the capital, but it didn’t happen much. She wondered when the last time the Auditorio had had an Equestrian in it was.
She smiled a little, though. On the other hoof, Ohar Garai had asked for Octavia himself, and hadn’t seemed in any way perturbed with getting Lyra instead at Octavia’s recommendation. Music trumped international borders and rivalries, it seemed.
“Barkatu, ez hemen bizitzeko arrazoia bat izan duzu?” a voice asked. Lyra started slightly, and turned to see a unicorn with a fine red jacket on – probably an employee for the Auditorio.
“Um,” Lyra said in response, closing her eyes a moment and trying to recall the very, very small amount of Zaldian she had managed to cram down. “Ni Zaldun Lyra Heartstrings naiz.”
The unicorn paused a moment, and Lyra wondered if she had managed to completely bungle Zaldian. The Auditorio employee brightened after a moment, however. “Ah!” he exclaimed. “Zaldun Lyra, bai. Ohar, agertokiaren atzean dago, ikuskizuna landuz.”
Lyra blinked a few times at that. “Er,” she said. “Ez dakit Zaldiaz. Barkatu,” she explained, hopefully intelligibly, that she didn’t speak Zaldian.
The unicorn shifted slightly at that, probably understanding Lyra. “Er,” he echoed her, glancing down and waving one hoof as though coaxing a memory. “Ohar, stage behind, practicing is.”
Lyra smiled and nodded in understanding. “Eskerrik asko,” she said in thanks, as the Zaldian turned and guided Lyra through the Auditorium and around a hidden door set near the stage. If the front of the Auditorio had looked familiar enough, the backstage section was downright identical to any backstage that Lyra had ever seen, a tall ceiling with scaffolding and ropes for controlling curtains and props, said props scattered everywhere in an almost-organized chaos that the stagehooves would understand, the performers could almost grasp, and anypony else would be helplessly lost in.
Sitting just behind the curtain, on a comfortable-looking cushion, was a middle-aged earth pony, with a pine-green coat that went well with his aquamarine-blue mane and eyes. Set before him on a special stand was an instrument, looking to the untrained eye almost like a guitar that had lost its neck and gained far too many strings – a zither, the form if not the precise coloration of which matched the two crossed ones that appeared as a cutie mark on his flank. He also wore around his neck a simple necklace that had what looked like a horn-ring hanging from it. The earth pony looked up from his practice as Lyra and her escort approached.
“Ugazaba Garai,” the unicorn escort said, and then waved a hoof at Lyra. “Zaldun Lyra. Ah…berak ez duela Zaldiaz egiten.”
The earth pony stood, stepping forward and offering a small bow. “Zaldun Lyra,” he said, his voice somewhat high, but by no means unpleasant, and he spoke both clearly and slowly. “Ni Ohar Garai naiz.”
Lyra returned the bow at the introduction. “Kaixo,” she said as she rose, then shifted a little. “Um…do you speak Equestrian?”
Ohar spent a few moments visibly running that through his head, before letting out a small sigh. “No,” he said, a little stiffly. “Ray-ahd I, spay-ahk…good, not.”
Lyra rubbed the back of her head at that. “That could be a problem…” she noted.
“Però…” Ohar tried, “Cavalliano?”
Lyra blinked a few times at that, before smiling and switching mental gears to a language she hadn’t really had a chance to speak since her early days at Luna’s Academy. “A little,” she said in Cavallian. “Um…good enough. I got a good, uh…grade. Almost.”
Ohar chuckled. “I, not good much either,” he continued in Cavallian himself. “But, better than Ekwestriko speak.”
Lyra returned the laugh as her horn glowed and she unslung the carrying case for her lyre from her back. She noticed the unicorn shifting a little, unsure at the two ponies who had suddenly started speaking a foreign language in front of him. Ohar noticed as well, and waved at him. “Hurrena dugu nola elkarren artean hitz egin,” he said, returning to Zaldian for a moment. “Orain joan ahal izango duzu.”
The other Zaldian bowed slightly, then turned and trotted off. Ohar chuckled a little. “Now, Guarsai will he get, say, ‘Ohar is speaking Cavallian, must spy be!’” he said with a chuckle, returning to Cavallian. “Concert get cancelled, knowing luck.”
Lyra chuckled as well, reassured by the older pony’s mirth. Cavallia and Zaldia were usually lucky to be on speaking terms as a result of Zaldia feeling that it was pinned in by two alicorn-ruled nations, Equestria and Cavallia. On the other hoof, Cavallian was roundly recognized as the international language of music, and musicians tended to pick it up during the course of their high-end studies as a sort of lingua franca between each other. Ohar was probably just making a joke at the Auditorio employee’s expense, he wasn’t actually going to get the police, or whatever Guarsai translated out to.
“Octavia apologizes,” Lyra said once their chuckling died down, as she got out her lyre and commenced to making sure it was tuned properly. “Concert scheduled. Um…ambassadors from Heststed.” Lyra was glad that Octavia wasn’t here, too, her Cavallian had grown atrocious, even to her own ears.
“Oh?” Ohar asked, not noticing the slips since his own Cavallian was scarcely better. “Ah, well. Some concerts, important more. This, put on for, ah, noblezia handiko…high nobles, so they no angry I when play for King, two days.”
Lyra rolled her eyes at that. She didn’t know too much about Zaldian nobility, but she did have some rather unpleasant experiences with the Night Court back home in Equestria. She paused then. “Uh…I play for King?”
Ohar’s eyes widened at that and he missed a note on his zither. “Ez, ez…ah…no. No. You, Ekwestriko. Not possible, not…appropriate. Sorry, so sorry.”
Lyra waved a hoof, guessing at the political implications. She’d also been exposed enough to the Night Court to know that her – or even Octavia, as had been the original plan – playing in front of Zaldian nobility was probably a veiled insult of some variety from the King to his nobles, but she resolved not to let it get to her. No one outside of the Zaldian nobility would understand the insult, and it would still look good for her when trying to arrange future shows.
“I, do not find not appropriate,” Ohar continued quickly, worried about causing offense. “Music is music. Musician matter not. Except Red Magician.”
Lyra burst out laughing at that. It was an old joke amongst musicians about a spectacularly arrogant unicorn from about five centuries ago, and apparently it transcended nationality. “Yes,” she said, as she finished checking her lyre’s tuning. She had been right, the thin air of the high mountains was slightly throwing off the acoustics of, well, just about everything, but she was fairly certain that the stage’s construction would compensate for that – that was what it had been designed to do, after all. “Um…I know Zaldians, like improvisation some – gah, some improvisation – but…any pieces you like, want do, tonight?”
Ohar shifted a little, setting into a more comfortable position as his hooves lightly touched the strings of his zither. “Like I, Noble Brook,” he said, as he started playing. “Violin and cello, normally, but, we make work,” he grinned a little mischievously, “and make Octavia sad, not come, yes?”
Lyra smiled at that, waiting for a moment appropriate for her to enter before gliding her own hooves across her lyre, taking the parts normally reserved for the cello and leaving the somewhat more complicated violin pieces for Ohar’s zither. “She hates, actually. Same eight notes, repeated, fifty-four times.”
Ohar laughed as the two continued playing. It was a fairly simple piece on the whole, more of a warm-up then anything, but its very simplicity meant that a lot of ponies tended to like it since it could easily get stuck in one’s head. Which was also a reason to hate it, Lyra supposed, but then Lyra found the surest way to get a piece out of one’s head was to hear it again, which meant seeing another concert…
---
Breakfast had been ordered mostly successfully, Zaldian, Prench, and Equestrian having just enough cognates between the three of them for Trixie to be able to order for herself and Lyra and get everything basically right. Trixie’s ability to conjure illusions was definitely useful there.
Stomach full of toast, celery, and coffee, she had bid Lyra adieu and made her way to the High Palace of Zaldia. Trixie didn’t know its Zaldian name, but it wasn’t hard to find. Occupying the great majority of the northernmost peak that Gotorleku Hiria was located on, the High Palace certainly lived up to its name – set on a small plateau above the height of even the other buildings on the north peak, and consisting of a multitude of tightly-packed filigree spires that glinted brightly in the morning sunlight. Like Canterlot back in Equestria, it was surrounded by a wall, though rather than stone the wall was made of interlaced bars of black metal that made Trixie’s horn thrum when she got near to them. There was powerful magic imbued in those bars – they would be as sturdy as any stone edifice. Also like Canterlot, the palace’s gates were guarded by the local Royal Guard, dressed in silver, intricate armor with capes of green and white across their backs and helmets that covered much of their faces and were crafted to look like the open mouths of roaring bears.
Trixie had all the correct credentials, and was ushered inside the High Palace without much ceremony – expected, given her relatively low station. A page who could stumble through Prench escorted Trixie into the High Palace through a maze of twists and turns that would have been disorienting had the unicorn mare not lived in Canterlot Castle for ten years and learned how to orient herself when within such a twisted network. She ended up finding herself in a medium-sized meeting room, with a large window that looked out into Gotorleku Hiria, with a table, chairs, a clock, and a painting of somepony looking very royal and noble – a former king of Zaldia, Trixie guessed.
Trixie turned to her escort. “Où est Kristal Zati?” she asked in Prench – wondering where the pony she was supposed to meet was.
“He, ah, be along small,” the page provided helpfully in Prench that was suitably atrocious. Trixie, however, was beneficent as she shucked her saddlebags, recognizing a seldom-used second language when she heard one. “Wait here, no be long, Dame Lulamoon – ”
The page wasn’t wrong, as at that moment a gray unicorn stallion chose to sweep into the room. His pale blue mane was swept off to his right side, almost hiding his right eye, and he was bedecked with a black-and-silver cape clasped about his throat with a white diamond.
Trixie instantly didn’t like him, and almost instantly was able to put that aside in the interests of international diplomancy. “Monsieur Zati?” she asked as she approached, while the page bowed out of the room.
The stallion glanced at Trixie but barely slowed down as he went to the other side of the room, horn lighting up in pale blue and conjuring two small stacks of paper on either side of the table. “Lord Kristal Zati, if you please,” he said in clipped, precise Prench, his voice pretty much the exact opposite of what Trixie would consider to be ‘pleasant’ and still not really looking at Trixie.
International diplomacy was a game only the most patient played. Trixie grit her teeth. “Lord Zati,” she said, remembering that Zaldian convention used a pony’s second name rather than first with titles of gentry. She approached the table and put on her best smile. “I’m Dame Trixie Lulamoon.” She badly wanted to stress the ‘dame’ part – a knighthood was a higher echelon than a lordship – but resisted the urge. “I am here on behalf of Princess Luna, who wishes to arrange a meeting between herself and your master, High Mage Ispelu Magikoa.”
Zati blinked a few times at that. “Oh, well, that’s a relief, I was concerned that you might have simply dropped by to chat.”
International diplomacy was a game for sadists and masochists. Trixie forced her smile to remain. “Forgive me, Lord Zati,” she said, sitting down – still no pillow, she noted – and tracing a small circle on the desk in front of her with one hoof. “Perhaps I’m unfamiliar with some Zaldian customs. In Equestria, in a relatively low-key meeting like this the two members would spend some time exchanging pleasantries and platitudes.” Her horn lit up, and she pulled from her saddlebags a small box. “I even come bearing a gift.”
She placed the box in front of Kristal Zati, who blinked a few more times as he regarded it. “Are you trying to bribe me?” he asked.
Trixie’s smile finally dropped. “What? No!”
“Has this been cleared with the Guarsai?”
Guarsai – Guardia Saila, the Guard Department of Zaldia, which Trixie know basically nothing about except that they were some kind of national police and investigative force. She’d heard the term ‘secret police’ bandied about once or twice but rather doubted the notion. “It made it past customs,” Trixie said, opening it up and pulling out a sheet of silver with platinum outlines that showed a stylized dragon’s-eye-view of Zaldia. “It’s just a fancy map.”
“Made of silver and platinum,” Zati noted, “but it is not a bribe? Of course.” His sarcasm was thicker than molasses.
Trixie’s patience was hanging on by the barest of threads. “Fine, then. I’ll keep it. I regret your offense at the offer.”
Zati’s head tilted slightly. “You mean you apologize for offending me.”
Trixie’s smile returned, perhaps a touch too wide. “Of course. Forgive me.” Zati didn’t as Trixie packed the map back up and stowed it away, and Trixie ran through a mental checklist of the past few months to try and figure out what Equestria in general and Trixie in particular could have possibly done to upset Zaldia, or at least Kristal Zati. Granted, historically it didn’t take much, but things had seemed to be going well recently…she put both hooves on the table. “Well, forget the gifts and platitudes then – ”
“Miss Lulamoon, I am not going to forget an attempted bribe and will be reporting it to the Guarsai as is expected of any such attempt – ”
Fine, you do that, and they can confiscate it and maybe they’ll appreciate the fact that I had that specially commissioned and hang it somewhere nice, Trixie wanted to interject.
“That’s perfectly alright, I’m sure we simply had a misunderstanding due to cultural differences,” Trixie said aloud instead. “But for the moment, let’s just get down to business, shall we? Princess Luna needs to consult with the High Mage over some ramifications from Tambelon’s recent permanent return to our plane. She has already consulted with a number of magical experts from Naqah, Paardveld, Cavallia, and Caballeria, but High Mage Magikoa’s expertise with divination magic would be appreciated. He would be needed for about a week as part of a joint expedition to the island.”
“Luna is quite mad if she thinks that the High Mage has that much time for personal excursions to a region that does not concern the Platinum Kingdom,” Zati said with certainty.
“It doesn’t concern Cavallia, either, but Sfera di Cristallo, one of the continent’s most renowned experts on teleportation magic, has agreed to go.” The continent’s foremost expert on teleportation magic was unable to go, unfortunately, due to her house arrest in Ponyville. Trixie had promised to ask Luna to send Twilight Sparkle anything she was able, though.
“Of course di Cristallo has,” Zati said, leaning back a little and waving a hoof. “He is Cavallian. Equestria’s loyal hound. A Cavallian would lick a road clean of mud for Luna.”
“Be that as it may,” Trixie said through her teeth, “the High Mage’s participation would be appreciated. But, if he is too consumed with his duties to Zaldia to spare the time to investigate a two-thousand-year-old city returning from Shadow and the effects its lingering magic might have on local leylines, I can understand that. Simply say as much and I will report to Luna that Zaldia is simply too preoccupied with its own affairs to see to concerns on the rest of Cissanthema.”
If Zaldia is too chaotic and inept to spare its High Mage for a week for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity then perhaps we’re better off without him coming along, was what Trixie had really said. She doubted Zati missed the veiled insult. She didn’t care, not at this point. If Kristal Zati was unable to get over his own prejudices about Equestria and Cavallia and ended up costing Ispelu Magikoa the magical opportunity of a lifetime, that was egg on his face, not Trixie’s.
Zati was quiet for a few moments, occupying his time by looking over some of the papers he had conjured. “It may be possible to arrange for the High Mage to undertake this excursion,” he said, seeming to deflate just slightly as he realized his predicament. “Some concessions would be required on the part of Equestria, however. An express train from Zaldia to the Sea of Tranquility, to minimize the time he would spend away from the Platinum Kingdom.”
Trixie suppressed a small grin at her victory. “That could be arranged.”
“We will also have to work out the particulars of salvage from Tambelon – what could be taken back to the Platinum Kingdom. If I am going to go to the High Mage with this he must be able to present some form of material benefit to the King. And we must ensure that Equestria does not get ‘first pick’ of any potent artifacts.”
Trixie nodded in agreement – an overall minor concession to make, given the cornucopia of such objects that Equestria already possessed and the low likelihood that any remained in Tambelon anyway. “But nor would Zaldia get ‘first pick,’” she noted. “You’ll be part of a joint expedition. And the point isn’t salvage anyway. Princess Luna believes the city should be preserved as-is, to serve as a memorial for its citizens.”
Zati considered a moment. “Understandable,” he conceded, perhaps the nicest thing he had done since Trixie had met him. “I apologize for my earlier attitude as well, Dame Lulamoon.”
Trixie smiled a little for show.
“I’m afraid I was simply having trouble parsing through your Prench. Your accent is…distinctive.”
Trixie’s smile dropped and didn’t return for the rest of the meeting.