~ Part 2 Start ~
My worst fears were confirmed when Olive’s decision to make me his “bodyguard” turned out to be a glamorous-sounding excuse to make me do his work for him. My first job was to find out who in the embassy knew the communication spell, so that if we had to make the rest of the world think the Princess was a supervillain bent on world domination, it would be with her permission.
Luckily it wasn’t too hard of a job. July, the annoying little filly who smiled so hard that it hurt my eyes, knew exactly who to send me to. And considering she had been sitting just outside the room we were in when Olive gave me the order, I was feeling less than impressed with him once again.
It had been hard staying quiet during his meeting with those minotaurs. Or at least, it would have been if I didn’t have a mind carved out of marble from my last job, as a statue. That old Nuno guy may have been telling the truth about being Laurel’s friend, but that didn’t mean he had to be much better than Gonzo or whatever the other guy’s name was. When Nuno didn’t deny that that guy wanted to start a war, for the first time since I had met him, Olive looked actually scared. Before that, I couldn’t imagine his face with an expression like that.
If this guy scared Olive Branch, I think I might rather go back to live with the zmey.
The unicorn we needed was a stallion named Pointed Course. I don’t know what it is about the government, but we seem to get all the weirdo names. While he wasn’t the only pointed horse in the embassy who knew the spell we needed, he was the one whose job it was to do it. When not sending or relaying special messages and letters like ours, he apparently spent his time gathering reports from the different departments on the second floor to send to our handlers in Canterlot.
Since he had an errand-filly handy, Olive couldn’t be bothered to find Pointed Course himself, so he wrote out his letter to Celestia and handed it to me with a smile. I didn’t take it with one.
I also wasn’t smiling as I attempted to find one unicorn stallion out of the six or seven in the endless maze of cubicles on the second floor. Pointed Course didn’t have his own office space that I could find, so I had to assume he was walking around somewhere. I made four or five passes over the heads of the embassy staff sitting at their desks, earning several nervous or curious looks.
Finally I decided to ask someone. I landed in the central corridor and trotted up to the nearest desk jockey that hadn’t already noticed me, an orange-and-cream Earth Pony mare who answered to the name “Ice Swirl - Consular Affairs - Visa Management” that was printed on a nameplate sitting on her lonely-looking desk.
“Yes? What can I do for you?” Her initial reaction of ingrained friendly customer service was quickly followed by surprise and slight worry as she noticed my armor, much to my amusement. I had to admit, that was one perk of working in the Royal Guard that I enjoyed.
“Do you know where I can find Pointed Course?”
She blinked twice before sitting up in her chair to look over the cubicle wall, craning her neck in all directions, including up for whatever reason. Finally her ears lifted as she looked toward the stairs, and pointed with a hoof. “There he is, going into Magic.”
I grabbed the letter back from under my wing and took off to glide over to where she indicated, another block of cubicles cluttered with all sorts of stuff I didn’t understand or recognize, feeling Ice Swirl’s pout behind me as I left her. Meh, maybe I should have said ‘thank you’ or something. Oh well, I got what I needed.
“Excuse me! Pointed Course?” I said as soon as I landed outside “Magic”, whatever that meant, and spat the letter back under my wing. The three unicorns seated at the desks inside watched me with interest, just like I had interrupted their boring lives by being daring and cool. Another perk of the job I liked.
Pointed Course was a very strict-looking blue stallion, with a mane true to his name, straight and striped and falling from a tall point at the top of his head. I decided from then on that he would be known as “Pointy”, if he wasn’t already.
He turned to me with a frown, his eyes mostly hidden behind his glasses, just like I had interrupted the boring job he loved by being bold and uninvited. If I had to do all of Olive’s most annoying errands, I was going to have fun doing it. “Yes? What do you want?” Pointy asked me, setting aside a clipboard and quill he had been levitating.
“The ambassador wants this sent to Princess Celestia right away,” I answered, holding out the letter on a wing.
He took it in his magic and examined in for a moment, then looked up at me with all the suspicion of a schoolcolt smelling an incoming prank. I just raised an eyebrow and stood a little straighter in my armor, and he sniffed and flashed his horn, making the envelope disappear in a burst of green flame and sparks. The smoke took off towards the nearest open window, and I figured he hadn’t just destroyed the thing in a bout of defiance.
“Is the ambassador expecting a quick reply?” Pointy asked.
I thought for a moment about the contents of the letter. “Yeah, I’d say if she doesn’t answer right away, the Princess would have to be busy fighting for her life or something.”
Pointy didn’t seem amused. His loss. Olive would’ve laughed. You know, probably. “Then I’ll send it straight to him when it arrives. You may go now,” Pointy announced before turning back to his clipboard and the disappointed office workers.
I grimaced at him behind his back and took off for the stairs. I had a bad feeling I was going to have to deal with that guy a lot in the future.
The response from the Princess arrived about ten minutes later, as I sat on a chair of my very own outside Olive’s office, doing absolutely nothing. I had thought standing still for four hours was boring, but at least it took effort and concentration to not move the entire time. Here, though, I could theoretically do whatever I wanted, and that was driving me absolutely crazy. And that was only in the first two minutes!
When Olive had seen my face after showing me my new personal corner of the world, he had smirked and offered to find me a good book to read. It was a testament to the extremity of my boredom that I actually knocked on his door after those first few awful minutes to retract my previous, offhand refusal.
I knew the letter arrived because I watched the flying splotch of green smoke zoom through the room from under the front door, and then heard the flash and small exclamation from behind the windows of Olive’s office.
I figured I should let myself in. I supposed that, being just a bodyguard, I probably had no real business doing so, but knowing Olive I would be surprised if he thought so. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he called me in to read it with him.
As it was, he looked up from the unrolled scroll when I came in. “Go ahead and sit down,” he said without preamble, flicking a hoof to a chair now sitting in a corner that had been occupied by a potted plant the first time I had been in here.
I took my seat, and to my only slight surprise, Olive held up the letter and read aloud:
“My Dear Ambassador, Olive Branch:
“I understand your concern over invoking my authority in support of a candidate in a foreign election, but I want you to trust me, and more importantly, trust the people that Laurel trusted. There should be many sources you can ask in order to find these people, both within the embassy and without.
“In particular, I would recommend a minotaur cow named Elena diCabra, whom Laurel always spoke most highly of as her personal aide. I suspect finding her might be rather difficult, as my understanding of her employment is that she worked solely for Laurel and not the embassy itself.
“Do not worry overmuch about the consequences of showing favor to a local party in such a public manner. And though in the past our policy there has been to avoid such direct interference, there are times such as this when it is necessary.
“Minos has always had a unique relationship with Equestria, especially where my sister and I are concerned. The minotaurs, for the most part, have a great deal of respect for us and our opinions. And while it is true that many do not think highly of us, they still recognize our wisdom and our power.
“I am well-acquainted with Gonzalo diTantalo. We have met on multiple occasions, and he has made his opinion of me and my ponies no secret. He is every bit as intelligent and cunning as you suspect, and I am not surprised to hear how he is going about his campaign for a seat on the Council, though I am greatly disappointed.
“As for whether he is behind Laurel’s fate, I am not so sure. He is certainly capable of such an act, were he truly motivated to. And I cannot deny that in this case that motive is a possibility. However, there are others in Minos that I am aware of that are just as likely to be the culprits, some even more so. Gonzalo has many friends and is very politically powerful, and there is no telling how many people would benefit from his gaining office.
“I implore you to remain cautious in all things. There are players in the forums who you can trust with your life, but there are many more you should not trust at all. Nuno diPatras is one of the former. His methods may not always be ideal and he may not always show trust himself, but he is in complete agreement with our ideals and fights for what is right.
“Find Elena if you can. She will tell you everything Laurel shared with her. If you cannot, I suggest talking to your lobby receptionist, Percolator Peggy. She has a great talent for gossip that served Laurel well on many occasions.”
“I—”
Olive cut off abruptly and glanced up at me, a twinkle sparking once in his eye as he read on in silence. I cocked my head and watched him curiously, wondering what it was he didn’t want me to hear.
Only a moment or two later, though, he started reading aloud again.
“In the meantime, I will gather what I can of Laurel’s effects that might be useful to you, and send them on as I find them.
“I wish you the best of luck. Remember that I chose you for a reason beyond your ability to make the journey.
“Your friend, Princess Celestia.”
Finished, Olive sighed and folded the scroll into thirds and put it in a drawer of his desk. “Well,” he said simply. “That was about what I expected.”
“You didn’t mention Elena in your letter?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I didn’t think I needed to. I heard she was helpful and I figured she must be knowledgeable since Nuno brought her with him to the meeting to prove his trustworthiness, but advice on how to pick out the weeds in the hay wasn’t what I was asking for.”
I thought back on what I could remember of the letter he had just read to me. “She mentioned others that might have been behind Laurel’s death,” I said. “She said it like she knew who they were. But why didn’t she tell us who?”
Olive leaned back in his fancy office chair. “All sorts of reasons. She probably didn’t want to compromise herself or us or force more hostile action if anyone else ever read the letter, or maybe she didn’t want to poison us against someone that she wasn’t sure about, if it turned out that they weren’t conspiring against us. Who knows? Maybe she just doesn’t really know.”
Darn it. How many minotaurs were there in this town that might want to kill us? My job just kept getting more and more complicated. And that was nothing compared to poor Plume. And you know things are serious when I feel sorry for the Whining Wonder. I may have been more directly responsible for keeping Olive safe, but that didn’t lessen Plume’s new responsibilities at all. I wondered how he was doing. After Olive’s speech to the embassy, Plume had gone off with Mint Zephyr to get more acquainted with everything, and get started in his new position. I hadn’t seen him since then.
Olive and I were interrupted in our quiet thoughts by a knock at the door. Olive called for whoever it was to come in, and the door opened to reveal none other than Elena. I was starting to feel a little overwhelmed at this cow’s sudden involvement in everything. It felt like I had heard her name more than any others since we arrived.
I wouldn’t get the chance to learn more about her, however. “Ambassador?” Elena asked as she came through the door and took up the remaining space in the office. “I came to tell you that Sir Chintzendale has taken the liberty of inviting some more of the forum’s leading minotaurs to a dinner with you tonight, upstairs in your parlor. And I believe you wished to speak with me as soon as I was available.” She looked down at me in my little chair in the corner, and I suddenly felt very possessive of it.
“Excellent!” Olive exclaimed. “I have a lot of things to ask you about. Dust?”
“Sir?” I asked, turning back to him. He didn’t object to the formality.
“Why don’t you go out and find us some coffee? Perky Peg should know some good places nearby. You might have to get her some, too, though. While you’re at it, ask her about the guest list for tonight. Here,” he said, sliding a pile of what I assumed were the minotaur equivalent of bits across his desk to me.
Perky Peg? Oh! Right. “Sure thing, boss.” I swept up the little clay tiles, reluctantly got up from my seat, and stepped around Elena’s huge frame and out of the stuffy little office. As I walked to the elevator, I did a lot of thinking.
Coffee. He told me to get him coffee. Olive Branch may have enjoyed teasing me with my position as his subordinate, but he had given this order with a completely straight face, which made me even more suspicious of it. Maybe he didn’t want me to be part of his conversation with Elena? Or more likely, he just thought it was too crowded in that office of his. But no, if that was the case then he would have just asked me to step out. That was what my chair outside was for, after all.
So the reason had to be in the errand itself. Probably about “Perky Peg”, as Olive called her. I would be surprised if Elena didn’t know everything about the guests herself, since she was the one who delivered the message and apparently she was the minotaur to know if you wanted to understand the political scene of Minos. Plus, she had summarized the guests as “some more of the forum’s leading minotaurs”, and that didn’t sound like the sort of phrasing you gave to the messenger, so it was more likely her own judgement instead of Sir Chintzalot’s, or whatever his name was.
So considering that Princess Celestia herself recommended talking to her, it was pretty likely that Olive wanted me to tap into her “great talent for gossip” about these guests. And probably the minotaurs we had already met or heard about, as well.
I groaned.
Perky was less harsh than Pointy, but every bit as boring and irritable. If it was true that she knew all the good coffee places, then Olive was probably counting on that being the way to butter her up for information.
As I raised my golden hoof to hit the button in the elevator for the lobby, I paused and looked at the shoe. I really didn’t feel like walking through the streets of Minos alone in this armor. Deciding on an impulse to take this opportunity to finally get out of the stupid armor for the first time since we arrived, I pressed the button for the third floor instead.
The door slid open and I immediately felt justified in my decision. The mares and stallions on the security floor were all clearly Royal Guard, but of the four or five I saw as I made my way through the halls, only one was wearing a full set of armor, and that was the yellow Earth Pony mare just exiting the door of my quarters.
It was probably for that reason that I didn’t stop her to introduce myself, but that was only another part of my immediate feeling of dislike for her, combined with her race.
I had no problem with Earth Ponies on principle, but the only one I had ever had anything to talk about with was my former bunkmate, Music Box. It might have just been because I was thinking about not having to wear armor and seeing her wearing hers, but I made the decision that I didn’t like her even faster than I usually do.
I slowed my pace until she was around the next corner, then turned into my quarters and removed the sweaty plates and straps of my armor. I took a moment to stretch and shake out my still-sore wings before I headed back out.
On the way down to the lobby I was almost prancing with elation that I was finally free from that stupid suit. I could move again! I could breathe again! I still felt like crap after the last week, but I was happy crap, darn it!
My smug expression was very nearly deflated when it met the heavy eyelids of Percolator Peggy, however.
“Can I help you?” she asked with a voice that made we feel like I should feel guilty for being so energetic.
“Uh. . . hi,” I began, suddenly sheepish. “I heard you’re the one to ask about good coffee places nearby.”
Her eyebrows lifted just a hair, but it was like something about her had been slumped on the ground but was now on its hooves. “Who told you that?”
Looks like I was on the right track. “The ambassador. He asked me to get him a cup, and mentioned you might like some, too.”
That got her to looking downright excited, at least by her usual standards. Her eyes opened all the way, and I even thought for a moment that I could detect the beginnings of a blush on her cheeks. “Oh, how nice of him. You were one of his escorts, weren’t you?”
“Heh. That’s right. But now I’m his personal guard. And coffee-fetcher, apparently.”
For the very first time since I had met her, her face displayed an actual emotion, as she raised an eyebrow and smirked. It seemed I had stumbled onto her gossipy side. “Isn’t that always the way it is? Poor Laurel Wreath used to have Elena running around on errands like this, too. Though she never sent out for coffee. She always took Elena’s homebrewed tea instead.”
I’ll bet. “He’s meeting with her right now. Maybe he doesn’t like tea.”
“Oh, is she staying with us again, then? I saw her come in with that Elder and his toady earlier, and then she was in and out for a while carrying packages and things. I wondered what she was doing. It must have been all her things she was moving. Didn’t say a word to me the whole time, of course. I hate it when people do that. It’s only my job to keep track of who comes and goes, you know?”
I blinked. Hoo, boy. Gossip. I hated gossip. Talking about somepony behind their back was fun sometimes, so long as you could handle other ponies doing it to you, but I couldn’t stand mares like this, that lived for it.
Still, this was a mission for Olive, and it might turn out to be actually important, so I figured I should do my best. And the way the short silence since Perky paused for air was turning for the sour, that meant I was supposed to match her efforts.
Well, no sense in doing things halfway. I reared up and rested my forelegs on the counter between us and started idly tapping my back hoof.
“Oh, yes. Believe me, I know how that feels. Even before I came here, it was my job to guard doors of all things, in Canterlot Palace. You’d think a posting like that would be exciting and glamorous, but nooooo,” I complained, drawing out my intonations and inflections as much as I thought was proper, and lolling my head around at the same time, “All we did was stand still in one spot for hours at a time, in case anyone felt like sneaking past us. Sometimes we would get doors that really did lead somewhere important, or that, Celestia forbid, actually got used once a day. Then we were supposed to stop anyone who came too close and let them in when we were sure they were legit, but what sort of ponies do you think were usually trying to get through those doors?”
“I don’t know,” Perky answered, now raptly attentive to my every word, and still smirking. “Important ones, I would guess?”
“Yep,” I confirmed. “Only the most important, wealthy, well-bred government officials, who were all apparently too important to be stopped at the door to the war room or wherever by ordinary Royal Guards like us. They would walk right past us like we weren’t standing in their way and telling them to stop. Honestly, I don’t know why they bothered putting us there.” Boy, that felt much better to finally say than I thought it would. Huh.
Peggy hummed in agreement. “I’m so sure. But I bet you had plenty of excitement flying the whole way here, over all that wilderness!”
Hah. Excitement. “You could definitely say that. Or you could say most of it was boring and exhausting. But at the same time, now that I’m here I don’t really want things to get exciting. I’ve seen enough of that already.”
That raised her eyebrows. “Oh really? Do tell!” Crap.
I took a deep breath in an attempt to buy time to think of a way out of the hole I had dug myself into. “Well, I assume you know all about Chintzendale’s dinner tonight?”
“Of course.”
“Do you know who all he invited?” I said, trying desperately to make it sound like the honest question it was and not just an invitation for more gossip.
“Mm-hmm. Did no one bother to tell you?”
“Nope. I’m only in charge of the ambassador’s personal security, after all.” That was easy enough.
“Well, I’ll go ahead and tell you all about them, then. There will be two more Elders from the Grand Council, an old fogey named Lorco diRaptis and an upstart named Paullo Barbas. I don’t know too much about their political stances, but I know Laurel used to see a lot of both of them, especially the old one. Other than them, there’s a merchant named Inigo Navarro and a sculptor that I’m pretty sure is called Duarte something-or-other. I don’t know, Minoan names can be so hard to keep track of.”
“You’re telling me.” No kidding. I was starting to have trouble keeping them all straight. Why did minotaurs have such random-sounding names? It made no sense. “Isn’t there anything more you can tell me about them? Surely you know more than that.”
I was hoping she would take that as a challenge, and I think I was partially right, judging by her expression, but she didn’t give me what I wanted. “Maybe I do, but you probably shouldn’t keep the ambassador waiting.”
Oh yeah. Whoops. “Heh. Yeah, you’re right. So where should I go?”
“Hmmm. . . . There’s a nice little place just two blocks outward, on the corner of S-Two and Kuon, called Kuon Corner. They’re not too pricey for the quality, but frankly their location is their strongest selling point, at least for me. Try the dark barros blend with just a drop or two of cream for the ambassador, and if you happen to have any tiles left over, I happen to prefer the medium pereira mocha, with a little dash of cinnamon.”
Yeah, there was no way I was going to remember that. The address maybe, but I was afraid I might have to “run out” of tiles to get Perky her fancy coffee. Sweet Celestia did that mare know her brew, though. “Thank you so much, Peggy. I can call you Peggy, right?”
“Sure thing,” she said, with an actual smile. “And what’s your name, hun?”
“Lightning— oh. Corporal Lightning Dust.”
“Well, I’ll see you on the way back, then, Miss Dust.”
“Looking forward to it.” Really. I tremble with anticipation.
A couple hours later, when the sun had set behind the lip of the city’s crater and the streets of Minos had lit up with flameless clay-and-glass lamps of every color, Olive and I sat at the huge dining table in the seventh-floor parlor with Elena and Sir Chintzendale, waiting for the dinner guests to arrive.
Chintzendale, who was so chubby I suspected he had already eaten all our food, was sitting on Olive’s left, talking his ear off about even more nothing than Perky Peg had when I came back with the coffee.
Olive, seated at the head of the table, listened attentively and patiently, as far I could tell. Though even knowing him, I don’t know how it was possible for him not to at least tune most of it out. Actually, he was far more likely to be faking interest perfectly, now that I thought about it.
Elena would be serving the meal, so she hadn’t taken a seat, though there was one set for her. For the moment she waited by the door to let the guests in when they arrived. I didn’t claim to know anything about dinner manners, but for something this formal, sitting at the table before the guests showed up didn’t feel right to me. But when I asked Olive about it, Elena had explained that the Minoan custom was to have the guests approach the hosts just as they were about to eat.
I also didn’t feel quite right sitting on Olive’s immediate right, but he had insisted I sit at the table as a participant in the conversation instead of standing aside as a guard. I guess it was an honor, but right now it meant I was directly across from Chintzendale with nothing at all going on but him.
“. . .I visited Gomes last month, you know, lovely place. Provincial circles are usually a bit exclusive, but Gomes is always busy because of the ports. You’ll have to ask Inigo about his fleet, it’s really the most spectacular. . . .”
I felt like praying thanks to Celestia when Elena finally announced the guests, but I was too afraid that the dinner would be even worse.
The first of the four guests to walk in was Elder Lorco diRaptis, and Peggy hadn’t been kidding when she called him an old fogey. He was by far the tallest of the four, but he was bent and wrinkled, and skinnier than any minotaur I had yet seen. His powder-grey coat hung off of his skeleton like it was simply wrapped in cloth, and his fingers were long and thin, and yet moved with such a quick dexterity that I thought he must have stolen a younger minotaur’s hands. He was extremely polite and spoke gently, and had a friendly aura around him that made me think he saw everyone as his grandchildren.
The “upstart” Elder, Paullo Barbas, was more on the short and stocky side, but he still towered over my head like all minotaurs. He seemed to have a perpetual frown, and his horns pointed forward almost past his muzzle, so straight that they caught my attention every time I looked at him. He wore a toga similar to the one Nuno had worn earlier today, but his was lighter grey to better contrast his charcoal coat. No one said anything out loud, but I got the distinct impression that the other minotaurs didn’t much like Paullo.
The merchant, Inigo Navarro, who entered third, was also not very tall, but less stocky and more rugged, without being wide. He sported a rough goatee, and was the first minotaur I had seen so far with hair on his head, a darker green than his coat and hanging down to his shoulders. He was the most raunchy of the four, making me wonder just what was considered proper in minotaur etiquette for a dinner party like this. He also spoke with an odd accent that I had never heard before, but gave me the impression he wasn’t from the city.
The sculptor was named Duarte, Duarte diMorales. He was the last to come in, small and skinny for a minotaur, with a reddish coat and curved horns, and a couple prominent wrinkles on his face. He hardly spoke at all, and he tended to move in small, quick jerks, especially in his hands and neck. I had to wonder how he sculpted anything that way without ruining it.
As was the Minoan custom, the guests brought their own goat attendants to assist Elena, two per visitor. Another custom I wasn’t forewarned about was that guests bring the wine, which minotaurs were supposedly famous for. Each one of the four guests produced a bottle from within togas and robes, and there was a simple ceremony before we actually started eating, where we passed the bottles around and sampled each one.
I wondered if the choice of which bottle to eventually fill your glass from was important to the subtle politics of a formal dinner like this one. I just picked the one I liked best, though I did my best to politely decline a second glass without offending old Lorco, and I thought I noticed Olive and Chintz doing the same. I didn’t know about minotaurs, but ponies were not built to handle any more than one small glass of wine. It seemed that Lorco had spent enough time with Laurel to be aware of that, but I still couldn’t help but feel bad for saying no to that wrinkled smile.
The food was excellent, as far as the herbivore selection went. I was actually very glad that there was only a little meat served, though I took a bite of it after Olive did. I didn’t get how anyone could actually enjoy that taste, or that texture, but I suspected my tongue just wasn’t meant for it.
The conversation, however, wasn’t as enjoyable. At least not universally. There were some times that were actually interesting, like Inigo’s stories of seafaring adventures that he claimed to have had, or even Duarte the red-coated sculptor’s explanation of the basics of minotaur clayspells, given solely for my benefit.
It turns out that Minoan sculptors aren’t artists; they’re more like magicians or engineers. And just like any unicorn wizard back in Canterlot, Duarte was prepared and eager to give a lecture at the drop of a hat.
Apparently, Minos was built on an ancient quarry of magic clay. Or maybe it was that the clay wasn’t magic itself, but especially receptive to magic. Even as he explained it, I wasn’t sure I understood completely. But the important part was that minotaur magic was expressed by sculpting the clay into a certain shape under a ceremonial process, and inscribing it with geometric patterns based on crosses, squares, and circles. The patterns were also linked to ancient Minoan glyphs used before Equestrians brought real written language, and were still used for things like the Minoan flag I had seen flying outside the embassy, or the city gates, and even used to denote value on the clay tiles they used in place of bits.
Well, buying the coffee would have been a lot less confusing if I had known that at the time.
But what interested me was the uses clayspells were put to. “Clayspells can reproduce virtually any effect producible by pony magic, and many more” Duarte explained, sitting to my right.
“Really?” I asked, skeptical. “Even creating weather?”
“Of course,” Duarte said, twitching a finger up to point to the ceiling. “You’ve seen the clouds over the city. A clayspell’s power scales with its size. Minos is circular because its streets form the world’s largest known clayspell, that controls our weather and allows us to grow plants in the circle.”
My eyes widened and I might have blinked a few times, but I didn’t care much to pay attention to my own body’s doings. “You don’t need pegasi to make your weather?”
“Of course not!” snapped Paullo, pointing his distractingly prominent horns directly at my muzzle from his seat across from Duarte. “Did you see enough ponies in the city to do everything for us? Or any ponies at all outside this embassy, for that matter?”
Leaving aside the obvious reason the other minotaurs seemed to dislike Elder Barbas, I realized he was right. I hadn’t seen any ponies on the streets. Not that I had really expected them, considering the distance from Equestria and the weird customs they had going on here. Still, the thought that the roads of all things did the work of an entire team of weather pegasi and several families of Earth Pony farmers was a little troubling. I wasn’t sure I liked clayspells.
Duarte saw me staring deeply into my soup and decided to completely disregard my lack of attention, going right on with his lecture. “In fact, all the surrounding estates are built on smaller versions of the same pattern. On the coast, half the pattern is made to extend over the water on great pillars, to maintain its three-dimensional shape and still allow for maximum coverage of the sealine.”
“Fun fact:” Olive said, looking to me, “Minoan cities and provinces are called ‘circles’, because the ancient minotaurs who built them had never imagined a city not being circular.” He flashed me a sweet smile while the others weren’t looking. “But those are just the big ones. Most clayspells are much smaller, isn’t that right?”
“That’s correct,” Duarte picked right the heck back up. “Naturally, such large patterns take a huge amount of effort and time to create, not to mention space.” He gave a small giggle. I almost groaned aloud. “There are thousands, perhaps even millions of possible patterns, each with a different effect, and we discover new ones every day. And unlike pony magic, clayspells can be operated by anyone, since all the requisite magic and skill go into making them. Most operate indefinitely, but many patterns can made to activate on their own according to a timer or a sensor, or they can be triggered manually, even long after their construction.”
“How long is ‘indefinitely’?” I had to ask.
“As long as the pattern remains unbroken, the magic still operates. Even if the clay itself degrades, the pattern is the important part. Modern clayspells all include a sub-pattern to reinforce their clay from wear.”
“Part of my business is shipping clayspell devices to Equestria,” Inigo said, leaning in from Duarte’s other side and looking quite proud of himself. “Have you ever played an arcade game? My family’s ships brought it from Minos.”
I definitely blinked that time. “Wait. Arcade game machines are clayspells?” I asked, looking to Duarte.
“That’s right,” he said, his neck twitching twice in a nod.
I was a bit dumbstruck, to say the least. When I was a filly, the workings of arcade games used to boggle my mind. My grandma never had a good answer when I asked how they worked. I always assumed—“I thought they worked on gems, or something,” I offered, pathetically.
Duarte frowned a little in thought. “The first ones did. We quickly improved on them. Clayspells are much more complex than gem matrices. Though gems do have certain advantages our clay can’t match. But for a secure lock, or information storage, clayspells are without peer.”
The urge to yawn I had been fighting disappeared. “Information storage?”
“Yes indeed!” answered Chintz of all ponies, sitting across from me on Olive’s left. “In fact, the Royal Archives in Canterlot have a clayspell that stores a copy of every major newspaper, from every day they have record of. It can bring up any issue you want on a screen at the push of a button. I believe they are considering storing more of their records this way.”
I was beginning to wonder why minotaurs hadn’t already taken over the world. “So if these things are so amazing, why aren’t they everywhere?”
Old Lorco gave a single chuckle. “Someday, I’m sure. But we can only dig up clay so fast, after all. It will be a long while yet before Canterlot has anything more than clayspell street lamps and a fancy filing cabinet or two.”
Street lamps, too? It’s already too late.
Thankfully, it wasn’t long after that that Elena took away that course’s dishes and replaced them with dessert: sweet fried flatbread and three big bowls meant to share, full of yogurt that I dearly hoped, as I eyed the goats hastily carting dishes back and forth, was made from cow’s milk.
As Elena and the goats retreated to the small kitchen, taking my suspicious thoughts with them, I realized that for the first time that evening, talk had turned to politics and the upcoming election.
“I’m considering it, yes,” Olive was saying. “Really, I’d rather not use Celestia’s influence like this, but it’s looking as if I have no other options.”
Also a first for the evening, everyone at the table was ignoring the food before them to focus on the conversation. Everyone except Chintz, of course. I suppose it didn’t take any extra concentration for him to talk and eat at the same time, but I preferred to think that he was simply incapable of ignoring food for any reason. As for myself, I determined to wait to sample the yogurt as long as possible, instead trying a plain triangle of frybread.
“I wouldn’t worry about that at all, if I were you,” Inigo said. “Laurel Wreath, may her soul find peace, was especially bold with her position in many important forums.”
Wow, that bread was good. Cinnamon and sugar, I think, baked right into it. I didn’t expect it, since there was nothing on the outside. And something else, something more savory. I bet it would go really well with the yogurt. Maybe that could wait a little longer, though. Chintz was distracting enough compared to the stillness of the rest of the table, and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.
Olive grimaced. “Yes, but I don’t imagine she made official proclamations for the Princess for many of them. This is your government, and you shouldn’t need or want our Princess’s permission or approval for internal decisions.”
“Perhaps it’s true that we shouldn’t rely on it as we do,” Lorco added, “but I hope the day never comes when we no longer desire it. Friendship is a valuable thing, as your people are so fond of saying. Celestia has done much good for us in the past, and we still tell stories of the visits she and her sister once paid us, long ago. We owe everything to them, in some way or another.”
“But not your freedom,” Olive countered, raising a hoof emphatically. “Not today. This whole situation is. . . . I don’t like it. We have a personal interest here because of what happened to Laurel, and I do believe having Gonzalo on the Council would have a negative impact internationally in the future, so I agree this is a matter for me to get involved in, but Celestia’s endorsement should never have been an expectation, much less the hinging point of your election.”
Duarte rested an elbow on the table. “I don’t see a problem, personally. This is Princess Celestia we’re talking about here. If anyone in the world has the right to take an interest and even a hand in our affairs, it’s her.”
“But it’s not just about Princess Celestia. I’m not her envoy, I’m an ambassador for the nation of Equestria. As a nation, we don't hold any sort of authority over you. Internationally speaking, Minos has an equal standing with Equestria, Princesses notwithstanding.”
The minotaurs all exchanged looks at that, some with grimaces of their own. Apparently they didn’t quite agree with that. Huh.
Olive glanced around at them with a look of impatience. There was no sign of the humor he showed when Plume and I disagreed with him, and we turned out to be wrong. “You have an ambassador from High Eyrie in Minos, right?”
Two or three of the minotaurs nodded.
“You wouldn’t expect him to announce King Gryphus’s endorsement and expect it to mean anything, would you?”
“Of course not,” Paullo snorted. “Gryphus is an ally, but his voice means nothing here.”
“Yet by the same policy that gives Celestia’s voice weight in your forums, he should be allowed the same influence.”
Inigo leaned back and folded his arms. “That would be a shaky argument at best, but I see the point you are trying to make.”
Olive sighed deeply. “The more important point is that no other country I know of would tolerate our interference like this. I’m just shocked that you accept it like this. That you expect it!”
“Well,” said Duarte, shrugging and looking tired, “there are plenty of bulls behind Gonzalo who would have us become like those nations. And not everyone opposed to him values our friendship and respect for Celestia as much as we here do.”
I had forgotten the frybread. I had never thought about how other countries saw Equestria, and the Princesses. Mostly because I never really thought about other countries. Before I met Olive Branch, I don’t think I could have named the homelands of two other species. And I doubt I was unusual in Equestria for that, either. Knowing that. . . .
“I agree with Olive.”
Everyone twisted in their seats to look at me. Well, everyone except Chintz, who wiped his face with a napkin and excused himself for the washroom.
“There are thousands of ponies in Equestria, all living their own lives with no idea who Gonzalo is or what this election might mean for them. They would never know anything about what happens here until their arcade machines stop coming. But they know there are countries out there, and that the Princesses and her ambassadors work hard to protect them no matter what happens outside Equestria, to be good friends with those countries. I. . . I don’t think ponies would be comfortable if they felt like their ambassadors and their Princesses were making another country’s decisions for them. That doesn’t sound like something a friend would do.”
There was a moment as everyone sat in silence. Duarte was now staring at his dish, still empty. Paullo and Lorco watched me from across the table, and I couldn’t see Inigo from where I sat.
Olive watched me pensively, biting his lip. Eventually he spoke. “It’s a good point, and a fresh perspective. But still, for as long as I’ve personally known Princess Celestia, I’ve never known her to do something that didn’t turn out to have a very good reason behind it, no matter how often it seemed like the opposite at first. And as I said, as far as this election goes, it’s a moot point. As much as I—”
Whatever he was about to say was cut short, as a pained groan sounded from the direction of the washroom. Elena poked her head through the kitchen door, frowning.
Olive bit down a smile, and after a moment, so did I. I couldn’t fight my sudden blushing, though.
“Well,” Olive stated. “I certainly hope Sir Chintzendale makes it out of there in one piece.”
No one laughed, and I couldn’t quite look up high enough to see any of the minotaurs’ expressions.
Another sound came from the washroom, but this time it was a throaty gurgle.
My smile melted. I looked to Olive questioningly, and he tilted his head toward the noise. I took the signal and got up from my seat.
I headed to the washroom door and gave a hesitant knock. “Sir Chintz. . . ?” Crap. I still can’t remember his name. As if this wasn’t awkward enough. “Hello?” I asked, a little louder.
There was no answer.
I frowned deeper and knocked more firmly. “Sir Chintz? Are you alright?”
I put my ear to the door to listen. Once I held my breath, I heard more gurgling from inside. “I’m coming in!” I announced.
I tried the doorknob. Locked, of course. Well, what the heck. I am a bodyguard. I get to do these things because it’s my job. Without hesitation I whirled around and gave the door a hard buck. I heard china jingling from the kitchen and the dinner table, but the door held. I tried again.
Before I could try a third time, Elena appeared by my side and held a hand to my wither. She knelt down to the doorknob and poked a thin metal something-or-other into a hold I hadn’t noticed. While she fiddled with it, I turned to look at the dinner table. Everyone there was watching, frozen. I heard the knob click, and I turned back just as Elena was swinging the door open wide.
I felt ice in my blood.
Chintz was sprawled on the floor twitching in front of the toilet, his eyes flickering and his mouth foaming.
Elena sprinted away, leaving me staring into the elegant washroom. She returned a minute—or maybe only a few seconds—later, with a brown canvas bag. I watched as she put a hand to his chin, looking into his eyes.
I jumped as a goat pushed past me, carrying a bowl of yogurt and holding it while Elena spread some on a little plate. It took me a couple heartbeats to make the connection. I. . . I almost ate that, too. So did—
My blood was already filled with ice, but now it froze. I turned back to the table.
Olive Branch met my eyes for a moment, then something in the air broke and he stood up from his seat in a flurry of movement.
Bodyguard.
I flew to his side in an instant, putting a hoof around his withers. I scanned the room.
There was only one wall in the room with windows, the east wall overlooking the street known only as S-2. No buildings near enough to cross from. I’d say there were better ways into the room if someone wanted to enter.
Five doors. One just an archway draped with cloth, to the kitchen. One open to the washroom, no windows. One for the stairs, and one for the elevator. One for the hallway leading to the two bedroom suites.
I realized with a flash of anger at myself that I didn’t know what the kitchen or the suites looked like inside. Why didn’t I think to check all the rooms on the floor? Why hadn’t I checked the whole building, or the others around us?
What kind of a bodyguard am I?
I gave my head a brief shake to clear the moisture from my eyes and the budding despair from my mind, and tried to re-focus.
It was the yogurt. My eyes flashed to the two remaining bowls on the table before me, both untouched. I looked up to the minotaurs standing around the table, as if I was meeting them for the first time all over again.
Paullo looks outraged, but also more than a little worried. Probably not.
Lorco looks confused and frightened. Doubtful.
Inigo looks restless, but also confused. Unlikely.
Duarte looks shocked and very confused. An act?
Either way. . . . “Nobody leaves the floor!” Paullo and Inigo nodded their assurance. Lorco and Duarte simply looked at me, jaws agape.
I glanced to Elena. She was now rummaging through the contents of her canvas bag, and I heard clinking glass corresponding to her movements. Nothing I can do for Chintz right now that she can’t. Still. . . . “How is he?”
Elena didn’t look up. “There was monkey’s hood poison in the yogurt. I can make an antidote with what I have here, and it might be enough to save him. There’s not enough time to move him.”
“Should we get help?”
“No point.”
Right. Then on to the next problem.
Olive shuffled under my protecting hoof. If the assassin is still here, then they know their poison didn’t reach Olive. They might try something else. Stupid! Why didn’t you think about Olive first?
I had to get him safe. I looked around one more time. I didn’t know the chancery well enough to know where to take him. But someone would. Mint Zephyr would. I had to get him— I had to get Plume.
“Olive. Is there an intercom on this floor?”
“I. . . I’m not sure. I don’t remember.”
Suddenly, Elena was at my side again. “There are two. One in each suite, on the office desks.”
“I have an office desk up here, too?” Olive asked quietly, to no one in particular.
I ignored him. Someone would have to go to the suites. Me? I had to stick with Olive, and we weren’t going anywhere alone, or leaving anyone here unsupervised. Everyone was a suspect. Elena?
Everyone is a suspect.
Gah.
I had to trust someone to go and make the call. Elena had already rushed to save Chintz. She had done the most so far out of anyone besides Chintz to dissuade doubt.
Fine. “Elena, go call security.”
She nodded and left without question, leaving me with five frightened politicians, one unconscious fop, and however many goats watching from the kitchen with unreadable expressions. Eight goats. Two per guest.
Someone poisoned the yogurt. But when? Was it meant for everyone, or just Olive? Or all three of us ponies sitting around that bowl?
That bowl.
If the other bowls were safe, that would mean someone added the poison after the yogurt was separated into the serving bowls. If not, then. . . then finding the culprit would be a lot harder.
Elena had identified the poison, using a sample of the yogurt. I had no idea how to use anything in that bag of hers, and I doubted the goats did.
Nothing for it but to wait for her to come back.