Mag hadn't expected a semi truck. She also hadn't expected the semi truck to be fully equipped with carpeting, a couch, overhead lighting, a TV and DVD player with some Disney movies, and a small pile of art and photography books.
“You guys got all this together in an hour?” said Mag.
“Fifty minutes. It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty.” A man got out of the driver's seat of the truck. He was all that Mag could have wished for: black suit, black sunglasses, nondescript brown hair and average build, lukewarm smile. Unlike the crowd from the lake, Celestia didn't seem to bother him at all. He took off his sunglasses. “For the next couple of days, if things go as everyone expects, I'll be your driver, butler, guide, whatever you need. Call me Jeff.”
“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Jeff,” said Celestia. She offered a hoof. Jeff took it without hesitation and bowed over it.
“And you'd be Mag Wilson. A pleasure.” He held his hand out.
“No armed guards?” said Mag, shaking his hand once.
“Do I count?” said Jeff. He opened his jacket to show a shoulder holster. “Oh, I almost forgot. Ellie is sitting up front. She's the backup. Ellie!”
A small, broad face appeared in the wing mirror of the truck and waved before going back to whatever it was doing. Celestia waved back. Mag didn't.
Jeff smiled indulgently. “You'll be seeing more of me than her, I think, but we're both at your disposal.”
“Do either of you have any special skills you'd like to share with me?” said Celestia.
“I'm glad you asked. We're in a hurry, so I'll explain fast. Ellie's the brains and I'm the brawn. Yesterday, Ellie was a field biologist working in Mexico and Honduras. You can expect to see her taking notes whenever her hands aren't on the wheel, and she might or might not have questions. As for myself, I work as a kind of personal security adviser slash bodyguard. My background is in military intelligence.”
“How very interesting,” said Celestia. It sounded like she'd learned a lot more from that speech than Mag had. “I don't make you nervous, I note. Well done.”
“People have been getting nervous? I apologize on their behalf.” He bowed slightly, possibly sarcastically or possibly not.
“There's no need to apologize for anyone. If I'm the only one of my kind to ever come to your world, then who's to say what is or isn't the proper reaction? I don't blame them for skittishness—or you for a lack thereof.”
“It's nice of you to say so. If you would both step this way, please? We're trying to move as quickly as possible to keep ahead of the press and the yahoos.”
“Very well,” said Celestia. She teleported the three of them into the back of the truck. Jeff looked around with curiosity but, again, a total lack of fear.
“Well we've got ice in our veins, don't we just,” muttered Mag. Never mind the sharp suit, Jeff's insouciance was getting on her nerves. He smiled at her and sat down in a nearby chair that had been bolted to the floor.
“I'll be staying here to keep the two of you company for the duration of the drive.” He reached up to a rope hanging from the rolling door and pulled it down. There was a moment of darkness and then the lights turned on. “First of all, your majesty, Ms. Wilson, this down here is the handle to open the door. Ellie is going to lock it from the outside for the sake of appearance, since we're trying to blend in with the rest of the traffic, but if you'll look here you'll see an emergency handle that opens the door whether it's locked or not.”
“And I can teleport us out at will,” said Celestia.
“And you can teleport us out at will,” said Jeff. “And this is the TV. It works like this...”
***
Mag opened her book, another book, a much better and more beautiful book. “The Candlestag,” she read, and peeked at Luna, who nodded encouragingly from the top of the great stag's back.
“The Candlestag,” read Mag. “A wanderer who teaches dreamers the central and only tenet of his religion: that we must melt to see.”
“Ayuh,” said the Candlestag. He was 20 feet tall, insofar as height meant anything in dreams, with a great rack of antlers with a burning candle standing between and on the tip of every tine. Wax dotted the dirt under and behind him in a path that stretched back over mountains and plains and lifetimes.
“Even he,” said Luna over Mag's shoulder.
“That's a good picture of him,” said Mag.
“It doesn't entirely capture the manliness of his profile, I feel,” said Luna, fluttering her eyelashes.
“Hrgh,” said the stag, blushing.
Luna landed back between his antlers. “Nor, being in pencil rather than paint, does the portrait depict the velvety nut-brown shade of his fur. Credit where credit is due, though; the artist had a talent for expressing lighting, and well expresses the way the glow of the candles dance in his eyes. Do they not?”
“He's four times taller than you,” said Mag.
“You are thinking again. Did we not agree to relax, Mag?”
“Think and dream are the same in French,” quoted Mag. That had been in the book too, the book of Pasithee, the book of book of book of books. A name to conjure by in the magical world, apparently.
“Have you seen the mask?” said Luna.
“Hrgh?”
“No? Then never mind. I have a second question. When I do this, can you feel my heartbeat?” Luna lay down again on the Candlestag's back.
“Jesus,” said Mag.
“Harrumph,” said the Candlestag.
“Hm?” said Luna. “A question of your own for my friend? What is it?”
“Hrgh.”
Luna stood behind Mag again. “He wishes to know whether it aches to be so real.”
“Sometimes,” said Mag. “What is the mask of Pasithee?”
“You're thinking again.”
“Sorry.”
***
Mag woke up. She'd drooled on the couch and it had gotten its vengeance by leaving a corduroy-patterned imprint on her cheek. The truck had parked and the door was open. Jeff and Celestia were gone. Ellie sat where Jeff had, writing something in a notepad.
Ellie was short and round. She had tousled hair, stubby fingers, and eyes that never stopped moving. A secret agent disguised as the kind of woman who knitted.
“Guh?” said Mag.
Ellie, without looking up from her writing, pointed to the floor at the foot of the couch. Mag hoisted herself up the back of the couch and looked down to find a piece of paper covered in rows of swooping symbols written in black Sharpie, above a cartoony picture of Celestia and Jeff walking away from a truck, both smiling.
Luna stepped in to translate.
“Allow me. 'My dear Mag,
“'I hope you feel refreshed after your nap.'”
She still felt terrible.
“'Mr. Jeff wanted to wake you so he could explain the situation, but I insisted, citing medical reasons. Ms. Ellie is there to take you to a private interview room, where a small group of officials want to ask you some questions about, among other things, what you intend to do next. In my own way I've made it clear that your freedom and wellbeing are supremely important to me, and I have every reason to believe these people, their associates, and most especially their superiors hope to establish a long-term working relationship.
“'They have questions for me as well, regarding my abilities and intentions. You can expect to see me by dinner, or even a little after lunch. If you don't see me after dinner then you both may assume that I've ceased to cooperate, and at that point, Mag, I leave you to Luna's care. She can be silly sometimes…' hmph. '… but she's a powerful ally and a good friend.' Sister, think not for even a moment that base flattery shall distract me from that jibe about being silly.
“Ahem. 'A few comments before you get to it. Remember that the three of us are here both to help and to get help, and all of our actions should be with that in mind. If they aren't trustworthy then we'll leave and look for someone who is. We aren't here to fight, only to talk.'
Yours,
Celestia'
P.S. Always on the record! Yes, even during confidential interviews.
P.P.S. I gave them a translation of this letter.'
“So ends the letter, followed by an amusing drawing.”
“Thanks,” said Mag.
Ellie looked up.
“Just talking to the princess in my head,” said Mag.
Ellie smiled. She was missing half her teeth.
***
Armed marines in dress blues took her to a little room with bad carpeting, overbright lights, and what couldn't possibly be anything except a one-way mirror. They sat her down at a table with firm deference and stepped behind her. No one searched her, not even her purse, which they let her keep on the table.
A woman in a dark blue pinstripe suit walked in with a thick collection of manila folders and stapled printouts. She addressed Mag without sitting down and didn't offer her hand. “Hello, Ms. Wilson. My name is Georgia. I'm here to discuss your experiences with the being called Princess Celestia. I would also like to confirm a few things and, in all candor, to get a sense of your personality. You are under no obligation to answer any of these questions, but you may wish to remember that many of them pertain to already public information.” Georgia sat down.
“None of you seem to have last names,” said Mag.
“We like to keep an informal office,” said Georgia.
“Who are you people?” said Mag.
“Independent contractors working closely with the Unites States government. Don't worry; it's all legal, and arranged with the best of intentions on all sides. Shall we begin? Good. In your own words, please describe the events pertaining to the Princess.”
“Sure,” said Mag. “I was taking a break from my job—I just got fired from that, by the way—and smoking by the lake, when a flying unicorn princess came out of some supernatural fog and passed out in front of me. I poked her in the earhole and she woke up. She flew me home and fell asleep on my couch, and I went to sleep as well. Then it was morning. I made coffee and went grocery shopping and brought back breakfast. Breakfast sucked.” Mag looked into the mirror behind Georgia. “You guys getting all this?”
“I'm sure they are,” said Georgia. “Please continue.”
“We went to her world to collect samples. She didn't find anything useful, but on the plus side, we found another flying unicorn princess. This one lives in my head because she has no body. Oh, no one told you about that one? Huh. Say hello, Luna.”
“Greetings,” said Luna.
“Excuse me for a moment.” Georgia stood and left the room.
“Rude,” said Mag.
Georgia came back in after a couple of minutes. “I apologize. My briefing was incomplete and I needed to confirm something. Greetings, Princess Luna. Ms. Wilson, please continue.”
“Where did I leave off?” said Mag.
“The part where we found one another,” said Luna.
“Okay. We went home, Celestia drew some pictures of her people, she made dinner, Luna taught me magic in my sleep, and today we went to another world and got a tome of dark and dangerous magics. Then we came back and got buried under a wave of nerds before being abducted by the Men in Black. The end. Any questions?”
“Give me a few minutes, please,” said Georgia. She pulled several pages of handwritten notes out of a folder and read it all the way through while Mag drummed her fingers on the table in what she hoped was an annoying way.
Georgia shut the folder. “You seem to have forgotten certain events. Would you mind starting again?”
“Sounds like you're comparing my version of events with Celestia's. Can I see those notes you've got, to refresh my memory?”
“I'm afraid these are confidential at this time,” said Georgia.
“I'm hurt by your lack of trust, Georgia.”
Georgia sat back and fixed Mag with a look. “During interviews like this, one must always consider the psychology of all parties involved. That's why I like to perform research.” She thumbed through the stack of folders next to her. “Here we have your arrest record. Her majesty told the interviewer that you mentioned borrowing your parents' vehicle without permission. You never got around to mentioning the rest of your record to her, unfortunately, such as your history of shoplifting. One wonders how you got a job at a convenience store with a record like that.”
“No convictions, and that was a long time ago,” said Mag.
“Nine years and four months,” said Georgia. She pulled out another folder. “I also have your college records here. The Young Socialists Club? Really?”
“Oh no, I've been found out! I'll never act in this town again. But seriously, it was a phase. You know what they say about experimenting in college.”
“I also read your final sociology essay. I found it... intense. Your professor filed a report to the mental health department of your school.”
“I got an A, though. Did you read through that whole pile today?” said Mag.
“Yes, I did. As of this morning, my job has been to learn as much about you as I can as quickly as I can. You are an unknown quantity in a situation already full of unknown quantities, and your influence over her majesty could make you a dangerous, dangerous person. Ms. Wilson—actually, may I call you Margaret?”
“No,” said Mag.
“Ms. Wilson, I've been reading about you all morning, and so far the best I can say for you is that you probably mean well. I've written something very similar in my report about you. The report is currently unfinished, but the only part I have left to write is a commentary on the contents of this discussion. Am I going to go back to my desk and type phrases like 'unhelpful and dishonest,' Ms. Wilson? I should inform you that this report is going to be widely read by key political figures all over the world tomorrow morning, Ms. Wilson. I have no particular emotional investment in your future, Ms. Wilson, but I strongly suggest, Ms. Wilson, for your own safety and happiness, that you cut the bullshit.”
Mag slapped the table. “Cut the bullshit? Tell that to your creepy, nameless organization full of creepy, nameless people, 'Georgia.' You've all been playing power games all day. I'm here to help Celestia and Luna, not you, and that's why I'm being cooperative, not for king and country. Yes, cooperative. I came of my own free will, I told you everything I was comfortable telling you, and I haven't tried to walk out. Doesn't that sound cooperative to you? This is my cooperative face. I know it's my cooperative face because if I were wearing my uncooperative face, someone would have pepper sprayed it by now. Right?” She twisted in her chair to look at the marines, who were staring straight ahead. Come to think of it, they didn't have pepper spray. They had handguns.
“This department is only a few hours old, so forgive us for not having a name or any business cards yet,” said Georgia.
“You know what? Fine. Here's the rest of it. She's the most feminine thing I've ever seen. She's a goddess. She's Girl Aslan. She's a Lisa Frank accessory given life. She's proof of the one thing we all know deep down, the thing that eats us when we can't sleep, that none of us is good enough. Look at her and then think about all the things you did that you aren't proud of and tell me you'd list off your whole arrest record on day two of meeting her. How about you, Ms. Georgia High and Mighty? Military background, comfortable in interrogation rooms, deadpan voice. How far have you taken your interrogations, hmm? Imagine explaining the necessity of waterboarding to Her Majesty Princess Celestia.”
“Anything else?” said Georgia.
“Lots, but I could take a break. You had something to say?”
She steepled her hands. “Nothing except that we all appreciate this sudden burst of honesty, as that's why I'm here in the first place. Please continue.”
“Uh, sure. You know she helped me clean a floor? I don't mean she swept it. I mean some people trashed my store while I was out, and we spent hours getting everything off the floor, from dried melted ice cream to broken glass. She hums show tunes to herself when she works, you know that? They sound like show tunes, anyway.”
“Cleaning?” said Georgia.
“Cleaning. Isn't that in the other interrogator's notes?”
“Interviewer, not interrogator, and I am not at liberty to divulge that information at this point in time.”
“And here I thought we were getting along. Yes, cleaning.”
“Hold. Why am I only hearing all of this now?” said Luna.
“Oh, dammit, you caught all that.” Mag gathered herself. “Here's the deal. I was angry literally all the time when I was younger. I did some stupid things and got myself arrested once or thrice, until one day a judge told me to grow up and I decided he had a point.”
“And I tried to plunge the world into eternal night. No, I want to know more about this mess. Do you recall any part of the process where she looked especially ridiculous? If so, can you describe it in enough detail that I can recreate it in a dream for teasing purposes?”
“Probably nothing you can work with. She tripped over a bucket, but only slightly. I thought it was sort of cute when she looked over at me to make sure I didn't see.”
“A pity.”
“Pardon me for interrupting,” said Georgia, “but what was that about eternal night?”
“Ask me again in my interview,” said Luna.
“We haven't arranged for one yet, your majesty. Frankly, most of the people in this building were sufficiently skeptical of your existence that we didn't make allowances for it. However, I think I should ask you whether you need anything.”
“A cigarette,” said Luna.
Mag thunked her head against the table. “THANK you. Oh my god.”
Georgia quirked an eyebrow. “The cigarette is for both of you?”
“We smoke,” said Luna.
“I see.” She turned to the mirror and gestured. “They'll see what they can do.”
“You know what else would be good?” said Mag.
“Food,” said Luna.
“Dinner is in forty minutes. Until then, let me prompt you a bit. Earlier you said you went to the store. Was Princess Luna with you at the time?”
“No,” said Mag.
“You were alone, then.”
“Oh, I get it. Nope. Celestia came with me using some kind of illusion shapechangey thing to make her look human. She made me talk to the store owner.”
“And she says you went home after that. Okay, that matches up.”
Well, well, well. Celestia hadn't told them about the eldest. Why not? They'd have to have a talk about that.
“Is something on your mind?” said Georgia.
“Yes,” said Mag. “I was just thinking that Luna hasn't heard a lot of this. We've been rushing around as well, so there hasn't been much time to tell each other stories.”
“I think I should ask that again. Ms. Wilson, is something on your mind?”
“Food and tobacco,” said Mag.
Georgia had been watching her face. “Yes, you've mentioned, but I'm beginning to think you're leaving something out again. Would you like to tell me what it is?”
“As soon as I figure out what you're talking about, yeah. Can I get a hint?”
“I wish you two would stop chasing each other's tails and get on with this interrogation,” said Luna.
“Then let's move on,” said Georgia after a short but pregnant silence. “There is a recently broken phone and wall behind the convenience store where you used to work. Would you like to comment?”
“Yeah, I was leaning against the wall making random phone calls when they both exploded. That was when I found out I can do magic. It was a complete accident, by the way.”
“Do you often call random numbers like that?”
“Do you have any idea how little there is to do up there in the mountains?”
“Do you often call random numbers like that?”
“Constantly.”
“I'm going to keep asking you. Do you often call random numbers like that?”
“Constantly.”
“Do you often call random numbers like that?”
“Constantly.”
“You're being unhelpful again,” said Georgia.
“Okay, how about this: I decline to answer.”
“Disappointing,” said Georgia. “Do you have anything else you'd like to tell me that pertains to the beings called Princess Luna and Princess Celestia?”
“Did I mention I can do magic?”
“In passing,” said Georgia.
“If that cigarette is here then I can show you something cool,” said Mag.
Georgia stood up and went to the door. Someone handed her a cigarette, a lighter, and an ashtray. She brought them to the table, set them down in front of Mag, and waited.
Mag picked up the cigarette with her right hand and snapped the fingers of her left while thinking sunflower pottery to herself. A small flame burned at the tip of her index finger. She lit her cigarette with it, and grimaced. “Menthol.”
“Menthol? Is that what that flavor is called? I rather enjoy it.”