• Published 14th Jul 2013
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The Education of Clover the Clever - Daedalus Aegle



Some people think lectures and classes are for educating. Star Swirl the Bearded has no patience for those people.

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Chapter 14: Practical Applications - Stress Test

Black Bean was the best coffee shop in Cambridle, a beating heart of the student body*.

*: One of several beating hearts, the student body being a strange beast which grew new limbs and organs regularly and slightly faster than it lost old ones, yet somehow lived to slouch through another day.

It was a center of Cambridle's night life, where the newest gossip could always be found, where young ponies unsure of themselves and their selves went to try to find out who they were by the process of elimination. Where citizens, students, and faculty all could meet on equal terms without the strictures of class and discuss the latest developments on the world stage or in scholarship.

Artists flocked to Black Bean. The cafe was always open to local talent, and always had an audience willing to say exactly what they thought. Musicians, poets, comedians and stage magicians had all bared their souls to Black Bean's clientele. But rarely had anypony heard a show quite like what they had that night.

“I can't believe that pony,” Clover fumed. “What does he think he's doing? I help him! I do his chores! I arrange all his spell ingredients and answer his mail! I saved his life once, did you know that? No, of course you didn't, because he can't be bothered to tell anyone that the universe was almost destroyed by – well, never mind who by, but this was just two months ago! It's not like it was, I don't know, a year and eight months ago or something!”

Dusty nodded slowly, his brow scrunched up uncertainly.

Clover continued, oblivious to the ears of a score of other ponies surreptitiously turned to listen.

“I've been his apprentice for most of a year. I've done everything he asks without, well almost without complaint. I honestly think I've been extremely patient with him! Certainly more patient than anypony else would be. But does he appreciate it? Does he maybe think that he should listen to my idea for once? I don't think I'm asking for much. At least no more than I've earned! I just want to help him! I think this could be a great thing for him! But honestly it's like talking to a foal-”

“So why are you bothering?” Dusty interjected.

Because he's brilliant!” Clover shouted angrily, slamming her hoof on the table. Her cup wobbled and splashed coffee over the table.

The room was silent and Clover suddenly became aware of a lot of ponies looking their way. She winced, and mumbled an apology as she wiped up the spill.

“...The weather's nice today,” Dusty suggested.

“I am monopolizing the conversation again, aren't I?” Clover sighed. “I'm sorry, it's just – let's talk about something else. How was your day? When you weren't with me, I mean.”

“Oh, well, things are pretty much back to normal at the museum,” Dusty said. “After we threw out everything we kind of got flooded with offers from other museums wanting to sell us stuff they had in storage. Today we got a shipment of a hundred crates of rocky rubble that might be ancient pottery, or fossilized lifeforms, or tools, or trading goods, or masonry, or sacred relics, or...”

“Or it might be rocky rubble?”

“It's possible,” Dusty said, nodding thoughtfully. “It might even be likely.” His eyes lit up with enthusiasm as he went on. “Oh, and last week we got a very nice exhibit of millenia-old copper coins which had been inscribed with graffiti! Imagine the potential of that, a look into ponies' ordinary lives.” He shook his head wistfully. “The old owners didn't want to display them because it's mostly ponies calling each other dirty names. Somepony suggested that if we get any more of those we could open an exhibit about cursewords across the ages.”

Clover tried not to giggle, and failed, and as she slumped forward over the table she reached out a hoof and found his. They sat silently like that, and throughout Black Bean's the other customers returned to their own conversations.

Clover took a sip of her coffee cup and discreetly leaned in to him as she wiped her muzzle with a napkin. “Thanks again for helping earlier. I'm sorry it turned out the way it did.”

Dusty winced at the memory of the gas golem, but shook it off, and waved a hoof. “That's alright. I'm glad I could help.”

“This is nice,” she said, deeply inhaling the rich smell of their coffee. “It's nice to do something nice.”

“I can't argue with that,” Dusty said, and smiled at her, and she blushed and giggled like a little filly.

“I should do this more often,” Clover said, more to herself than to him. “I spend all my days working and talking to the professor. I should take more time to myself.”

He shuffled around the table to sit closer, and she rested her head on her shoulder. They finished their coffee like that, and when they left the building the sun was low above the horizon, the sky red and beautiful.

As they left, Clover wrapped her ankle around his, and looked up at him with a smile. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

Fireworks exploded in her head as he kissed her back, his arm resting on her withers, his leg wrapped around his neck. Time stood still, and she felt the warmth of his body pressing against her.

They broke off the kiss and stood like that for a while, holding each other. His hoof stroked gently through her curly mane as he looked into her eyes with a sly smile. “You're adorable.”

She drew in a deep breath and relished the sensation of him. “Thank you. Just, for being here. I needed that.”

“Anytime,” he said.

Regretfully, they broke apart and Clover trotted down the street towards Canterlot House 1, and she couldn't remember it ever being harder to go home.

That had been last night.

As the first consultation drew near, Clover paced anxiously back and forth, muttering to herself as she tried to think of everything that could go wrong.

She had not slept well that morning, and a dream had torn her into waking before the sun rose. Rather than lie there shaking or try to get back to sleep, she had gotten up, put on her cloak, and set about running down The List.

She had been at it for three hours as the appointed time approached, and she had done everything she had been able to think of. The break room was set up. The tea and biscuits were ready. She had placed a few conversation pieces in eye-catching positions, ones she was sure were not going to randomly activate and make a scene. The way to the room was clear.

Everything was ready except for one thing. On the verge of his first consultation, Star Swirl had locked himself in his private lab and Clover had not heard a sound from within.

The clock ticked another minute. Clover paced anxiously back and forth, muttering to herself. Occasionally she'd turn around, open her mouth as if to speak, then grimace, shake her head, and resume pacing.

Star Swirl watched her progress through a magic mirror from within his private lab, deep in thought. He pursed his lips unhappily and sighed. “Turn off.”

The mirror went from showing an image of the research hall to showing Star Swirl's reflection. He looked at himself critically for a while in silence.

“She just doesn't know when to stop,” he finally said, before turning to his prisoner.

The earth pony in the cage was lying flat on his barrel. His fur was drab and dry, its lustre lost to hunger and discomfort.

“Don't you think so?”

Glowing blue runes surrounded the cage. The pony pointed a hoof at them. “What are those things?”

“Bioarcanic sensors,” Star Swirl said. “Basic medical equipment, for measuring a pony's vital signs through magic. They are quite harmless, on their own.”

The pony drew a few deep, angry breaths. “You're not a doctor.”

“Technically I am,” Star Swirl said. “But yes, they are quite flexible. For instance, I am using them to measure your comfort levels. I want to know exactly how much I'm hurting you.”

The earth pony coughed weakly, rhythmically, in what might have been a grim laugh. “I hope that's very interesting for you.”

“Oh, it is.”

“You know, I heard about you,” the pony said in his weak voice. “I saw your posters when your student hung them up. Star Swirl the Bearded, the legendary wizard… the great wizard of Cambridle town. But they're all right about you, aren't they? You're just another monster.”

Star Swirl's face was still as stone as he watched the pony in the cage. “Yes, I suppose they are,” he said. “I'm choosing to do all of this, you know. I don't have any anger towards you. It might not look like it, but none of this is personal.”

The pony turned and met Star Swirl's eyes. “Please let me go.”

“No.”

He curled up into a ball, sobbing weakly. “I don't know what you want from me,” he whispered. “I haven't eaten in days… You won't even tell me what you want, and you just watch me slowly die.”

“Well. From where I'm standing I think I've been extremely patient with you.”

“She's losing patience with you,” the pony muttered. “Even your own student, she's coming to see it too… Everypony gives up on you in the end, don't they?”

Star Swirl's breath paused for the briefest moment before it resumed. “Yes,” he said, with just a hint of regret. “I've realized that.”

A bell rang in the distance. The wizard sighed. “Ah well, duty calls. I'll be back to check up on you again later.”

The pony curled up and rubbed his belly, sniffing and murmuring in pain. Star Swirl ignored him. He left the mirror and the pony behind him and emerged from the lab.

– – –

The first consultation provided interesting challenges.

Moments after the bell rang Clover had seen Star Swirl emerge quietly from his lab, and seal the door behind him. Clover had acknowledged him and headed to the front door while he went down to the break room. The two of them had not looked at each other or shared a word.

Clover had greeted the client with a smile: she was a mare in her late middle age, unicorn, pink with a short mint mane, curly, and glasses, round. Clover had taken her name, compared it to what she had put down on the schedule, and found it in order. Then, her mind racing, Clover had led her inside.

Clover had set herself multiple tasks for the meeting as part of her plan. She was going to take notes of the important points the client presented. She was going to keep Star Swirl on track if ever he came in danger of losing interest. She was going to provide any assistance he asked for, tracking down books or tools and keeping track of the schedule and the payment scheme. And otherwise she was going to fade into the background as a friendly presence while Star Swirl did his thing. She was going to make him look good.

He locked a pony in a cage in the private lab. He does not want to look good.

Clover bit the inside of her lip and put herself in the present. The client was talking.

“There is a monster behind the mirror,” she was saying in hushed tones. “My husband says it's nothing but every time I look in the mirror I can see it. It's not my reflection. It's something else, and every time I look at her I think she looks hungry. Hungry for – something. Something terrible.”

You can't think like that, Clover. This is your teacher you're talking about. He pretends otherwise but you know he cares about you. Maybe this is a test.

“Can you describe this reflection?” Star Swirl asked, his voice calm and confident.

Yeah, a test. Everything is a test with him. He never stops even when he really really should. No sensible pony would use other ponies like this just to make a point.

“—in her eyes, and when I move it moves just like me but just a split second later!”

Oh, who am I kidding. Star Swirl the Bearded knows no limits. It's a lesson, Clover! Don't try to teach him anything. He is the teacher and he will brook no argument, thankyouverymuch. He probably secretly arranged this consultation. The client is playing along to make me look foolish.

“—a tiny little echo for just a moment, as if she doesn't remember that reflections make no sound, and the colors—”

Well, Star Swirl, you are foiled: after all this time with you I am immune to embarrassment.

“Alright, and this seven-pointed star sigil you mentioned. Does it ever appear in the reflection?”

No, she couldn't be involved. I picked the letter myself, I set up the calendar. She must be an innocent bystander. Any moment now Star Swirl is going to get up and walk away with some dismissive remark that this is unworthy of his time. And some poor innocent pony is going to suffer for it. She may be just a poor old delusional woman but she deserves better than this, Star Swirl. It's downright cruel.

“Understand? You take the mirror down and sprinkle this powder around it. The gemini will flee into the dark gemstone of the amulet, and be trapped. I recommend you bring it back to me and I will dispose of it safely, but if you want to keep it as a memento it should be safe for the next thousand years. That's the expiration date for all the most reliable magic wards we are currently able to devise.”

Is the tea alright? Are the biscuits stale? Oh Celestia, she didn't say anything about the dowsing rod of Chief Black Crow, I knew I should have gone with the Jewel of Secret Whispers but I thought it was too flamboyant! The whispers would disrupt the conversation!

“Thank you!” The mare burst out in relief as she shook Star Swirl's hoof. “Thank you!

“Not at all, madam. Clover will show you out.”

Clover jolted into awareness as the two ponies looked at her. She blinked. “What?”

“Do take care of the bill and show the lady to the door, Clover,” Star Swirl said as he pushed himself out of his chair.

“Oh. Yes. Certainly.” She cleared her throat. “Follow me, please.”

– – –

Clover showed her first client out of the building with many nods and affirmative noises, and gently closed the door behind her before returning to her mentor with a stern countenance. She found him watering the plants and planted herself on the floor in front of him.

“I thought that went well,” Star Swirl said.

“Yes. It did.”

“So you see, all your worries were unfounded and now you can relax.”

“That's great,” Clover said, although she did not sound like she thought that was great. “Does that mean you're going to let Mister Sprout go?”

Star Swirl threw her a quick look before turning back to the plants as if nothing was wrong. “My research isn't finished yet.”

“Are you going to hurt him?”

“Oh yes,” he said. “I'm starving him, as a matter of fact, to see what happens.”

“Is your research on him? Or is it on me?”

He waited. She continued, “I try to help you. You don't seem to like it. The more I help you, the worse you get. I think you want me to hate you. I think you've set me up as some sort of challenge to be overcome.”

He turned and gave her a bemused look. “Not everything is about you, Clover.”

“I know you don't want to care what anypony thinks about you. But I think you care more about me than you want to let on.” She stepped closer and there was a hint of pleading in her eyes. “I'm tired of this, Professor. I'm asking you to please stop it. For my sake?”

Star Swirl said nothing, but turned away, looking uncomfortable with this line of questioning. Clover took another step forward. “Do you know, last night I had a dream? I was locked inside some kind of machine, and there were all wheels and pistons and claws. I was held in place, and you were outside. You were standing by a control panel, pressing buttons and telling me everything was fine as it started to move. There were whirring saw-blades that were going to cut me open. You're giving me nightmares, Star Swirl!”

There was a clatter as the watering can fell to the floor, and all the noise of the house fell silent.

“Clover,” Star Swirl said. “Listen very carefully because this is important. You are never to say that word in my house again. Is that understood?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Is. That. Understood?”

She blinked again, and shook her head. “I don't know what you're talking about. What did I say?”

He only stomped a hoof in response and turned away. Clover walked up after him. “Professor?”

He grunted and ruffled his cape, and stalked away. Clover ran after him, feeling her muscles tense as her confusion grew. “I don't understand why you're acting like this! This isn't like you! ...You can do good things, Star Swirl! You can bring so much light to ponies, I don't know why you fight it so!”

“Light?” Star Swirl snapped at her. “What part of Star Swirl the Bearded did you not understand? Eh? Is there something ambiguous about my outfit? Were the stars and the moon against a dark blue not enough of a hint? I am a dark wizard, Clover! What I do is dark magic, and sometimes that,” he pointed a hoof to the door to his private lab, “is what progress looks like! If you don't trust me with that then you have no future here.”

“Again with the trust issues!” Clover cried in frustration. “This isn't about trust, Professor! This is you going out of your way to sabotage yourself just when you have somepony, anypony who is willing to put up with you!”

“You think this is part of some grand plan? No, Clover, this is just what comes naturally to me. You wanted to be my student? Well, this is it. You are free to leave. I was always expecting you would.”

Clover glared at him. “I'm not going to give up on you.”

“Yes you will. It's only a question of time.”

They both fell silent, Clover looked at the back of her mentor's hat. She sighed softly, and shook her head. “I know you, professor. You're be better than this. Alright, you can be a bit grumpy sometimes. Maybe more than is strictly necessary for a simple misplaced pestle that could happen to anypony. But you've done so many great things, Star Swirl! You've brought so much light to the world! I don't want to hear you say you're a dark wizard! You're not evil.”

The temperature in the room seemed to shoot up. The air turned to a haze, and Clover felt her breath grow heavy.

“Go down to Saddle Arabia,” Star Swirl said, his voice heavy and ominous as Clover began to choke, her lungs refusing to accept the boiling air. “Go to the deep desert and stand in the open sands at mid-day.” He turned his head and glanced back at her and his eyes were full of darkness and rage. “Ask them how much they love the light.”

He cut off the magic and Clover gasped for the cool air. Star Swirl did not look, but only walked away, and left the building without a word.

– – –

Inside the private lab the pony in the cage watched the mirror intently, not moving, and saw the door slam shut.

– – –

Clover stood still and watched the door for what felt like a very long time.

Gradually she became aware that Canterlot House was utterly quiet, and felt more empty than she had ever known.

She was in the arboretum, beside a floral clock that told the time without turning or making a sound. There was a schedule for the day lying nearby which said that at that moment Star Swirl was tending to the plants. The chores waited, undone.

After what felt like an eternity Clover forced herself to move again. She quietly shuffled down the stairs to the break room, her tail dragging along the floor behind her. She brewed a cup of tea and sat down in her usual seat to drink it.

She pushed it to the side untasted, slumped over the table, and lay her muzzle flat on the cloth. “Good job, Clover,” she said. “That was… great. Just great. You really knocked it out of the park. He's totally going to listen to you now.”

On the table, a couple of feet away, there sat a small ethereal cube, its corners framed with precious metals seemingly supported only by thin air, in which was held a green leaf.

“Well, Mister Leafy, I guess it's just you and me now,” she said. “I hope you don't mind if I talk to you. Star Swirl is… away. I don't know how long he's going to be out. Or, if he's going to let me stay any more when he comes back.” She sighed. “Plus I kind of feel like talking to someone who listens for once. Maybe I should go find Dusty… But I wouldn't want to bother him with my problems all the time.”

She picked up the strange cube and examined it. “As far as I know I left you in the frozen North, so I guess the professor went and picked you up again sometime I wasn't looking. Sorry about that, I suppose.”

“That's okay,” Mister Leafy replied. His voice was soft and high-pitched, like a small child speaking very quietly.

Clover stared. “You can talk.”

“Yes.”

How?

“Magic,” the leaf said. “I don't know how it works. Mister Star Swirl the Bearded did it.”

“Of course he did,” Clover said. She picked the leaf up and held it between her hooves. “So you're a talking leaf… What's that like?”

“Lonely, mostly,” the leaf said. “There aren't a lot of talking leaves.”

“No, I don't suppose there are,” Clover said. She picked up the cube in her hooves and felt a strange resistance that felt something like holding solid matter. “I'll talk to you, if you like?”

“Sure. I'd like that.”

Clover bit her lip uncertainly. “So… why did the professor make you? If that's not too personal a question?”

“That's alright,” Leafy said in that same soft voice. Clover thought the leaf was used to not having his desires taken into account. “I think he was curious. He wanted to know about plants, and decided to talk to them. But something went wrong. I don't think I was supposed to know about the future.”

“...You can see the future?”

“Sort of. I don't really understand it. I don't really understand a lot of things. A lot of things are hard to understand when you're a leaf.”

“Well...” Clover spun the cube idly between her hooves. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“I don't get to talk a lot,” Mister Leafy said. “I'm not sure anyleaf would listen.”

“I'll listen.”

There was a silence while Clover waited for the leaf to find the words.

“All my sisters died,” said Mister Leafy. “Leaves live such a short time. I was supposed to die with them. That's what leaves are supposed to do. When we are born it's chilly, and we grow big and strong when it's hot, and we eat the heat and send it down into the tree, and the tree grows taller and thicker. Then it starts to get colder, and we grow old and frail. In the end we die when we see the ghosts of the true cold closing in around us. But Star Swirl the Bearded kept me alive, and gave me thoughts and words. I didn't want to die in the cold. I didn't want to disappear, leaving nothing, not knowing what it was all about. So he took me off my tree, and kept me alive and warm. We traveled the world together, and he showed me many different places. Sometimes I would think of my sisters, and I would get sad, and he would try to cheer me up. Sometimes he would get sad, and he would tell me things. He says the world is going to end in a great cold. A cold much worse than the ones that killed my sisters. A cold that might kill the tree itself… and if that happens, the sun will never come back.”

“The sun is out now,” Clover said, trying to sound encouraging. “It's not going anywhere. It's always going to be there.”

“That's not what Star Swirl the Bearded says. He says that sun is an impostor, and it's going to fail. He says the world is broken.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright,” Clover said. “That's… that's a really sad story, Mister Leafy. I'm sorry. It doesn't sound like you've had a lot of fun.”

“I guess not."

“Look. Have you ever thought about...” She paused, and tried to find her own words. “You don't have to stay with him, you know. You could go somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else?”

“Yeah. You don't have to stay with Star Swirl just because he made you. I'm sure the world is full of creatures who'd love to have a talking leaf around.”

“You really think so?”

“I'm sure of it,” Clover said. “Like a, I don't know, a gardener, maybe? Or a… tree… pony person? A forester? Somepony fun to be around, who'd make you feel appreciated.”

“I don't know,” Mister Leafy said. “I don't think most ponies could relate to a talking leaf.”

“Look – the world is huge and full of lots of different ponies. If you aren't happy where you are, maybe you should try to find somepony who appreciates you for what you are. I mean, Star Swirl is...” Clover's face fell at the thought of him. “You don't have to stay with him if you're not happy. Life is too short.”

“I'll think about it,” Mister Leafy said.

Clover nodded. “Mister Leafy? I'm sorry I didn't realize you were alive before. I'm… not a very good friend, apparently. I'd like to help everypony, but apparently I just make a mess of it. So I'm sorry.”

The leaf was silent for a moment before replying. “That's okay.”

“I'm not sure it is. But thanks for saying so.” She got up from her chair. “I'm gonna go for a walk, I think. Try to clear my head. Just… think about it, alright? You never know unless you try.”

“I hope you feel better,” the leaf said.

“Yeah,” Clover said, thinking of Dusty. “I think I will.”

– – –

I guess he'll be at the museum at this time of day, Clover thought to herself as she wandered down past the Crescent Square Market. I hope he doesn't mind me bothering him during work hours. Maybe I should offer to get him dinner sometime, or to help him with his magic classes as thanks? He's been so generous with his time for me and I haven't done anything for him in return.

She smiled at the thought of surprising him with a nuzzle and a kiss before pulling him away from some dusty crate full of examples of Sumareian profane graffity to have lunch in a park somewhere, basking in the sunlight. She thought of the museum curator scowling in his direction as he ran out, old and bitter. She thought of her putting down a mark on her schedule, having to call in some other student to take his shift on the spot, disrupting some other pony's day. She thought of Dusty getting fired from his job and knowing it was her fault.

Her trot slowed to a walk.

Maybe I shouldn't bother Dusty with my problems all the time, she thought. I know he doesn't seem to mind. He's always kind and keen to listen to me. But I only just met him and all I do is complain. What if he starts thinking I'm always miserable and doesn't want to spend time with me any more?

I can be cheerful. I just need to find something more upbeat to talk about. Something that doesn't have to do with Star Swirl.

Except I don't do anything except work with Star Swirl.

Maybe I can tell him about our adventures. Some of the parts that aren't so weird. Or horrible. Or completely outside of an ordinary pony's conception.

...I guess that doesn't leave very much, does it.

I guess I can tell him the story about the black rat.

She sighed heavily as she walked.

Maybe I am taking advantage of him. Maybe I'm just making him feel bad by asking him for answers to problems he can't possibly answer, and telling him about things we've done that nopony else can share.

Maybe I can listen to him talk instead. Maybe if we do things together we'll get other things to talk about. Things we did together.

But my schedule is so busy these days.

Maybe I should cut back on things. I need to spend time with other ponies. Otherwise Star Swirl will turn me into a copy of him.

Maybe Star Swirl really can't be fixed. Maybe I'm a fool for trying. Maybe all this studying is a waste of the best years of my life.

She arrived at the Cambridle Historical Museum and looked up at its haughty facade. Put the unhappy thoughts away, Clover. It's time to meet the ponies.

The doorpony looked down at her from atop the shallow staircase before the front door. He was wearing a brand new uniform jacket with shiny new buttons that were definitely not priceless historical artefacts, and he did not look very happy about this. “Good day, miss,” he said, without enthusiasm.

Clover flashed him a friendly-apologetic smile. “Hi! I know I'm banned from entering the premises, but could you tell Dusty I'm outside? I'd like to talk to him.”

The door pony looked at her suspiciously, then shook his head. “Dusty isn't here today. He didn't come in to work.”

“What?” Clover asked.

She was interrupted by the voice of Ginny the Librarian directly behind her, saying, “I'll take it from here, sir. Clover? Come with me, please.”

Clover turned to see the elderly mare just as she was laying a hoof on her shoulder and guiding her away from the museum. “What's the matter?”

“Quiet,” Ginny whispered. “There are ears everywhere.”

They trotted silently away from the museum, Clover feeling increasingly lost, until Ginny grunted in affirmation. “This will do. I need to talk to you. Are you alright? Has anypony hurt you?”

Clover was taken back by the urgency in the old unicorn's voice, and reflexively opened her mouth to say 'I'm fine', but the words didn't come out. She turned a sharp eye on the librarian. “You know I'm perfectly happy to chat with you, Ginny, but this is kind of a bad time.”

“It's important,” Ginny said, looking over the young mare. “It has come to my attention that there are rumors spreading in town that say some rather ugly things about you. Are you sure you're quite alright?”

Clover sighed. “Is that all? Yes, I'm fine. I've heard all the names. Black-hearted apprentice of the mad wizard and so on. Screw those jerks.” Ginny frowned, deep in thought as she looked over the young mare. “What's the matter? They're always doing that. I'm fine.”

“It's not quite so simple,” Ginny said. “You're quite prominent in the student circles at the university for being Star Swirl's apprentice. Not just among students either: the faculty keep very close tabs on you. One of them offered me a rather shady piece of gossip in exchange for digging up a book from one of the deep stacks. Have you heard about the Brotherhood of Elta Belta Pony?”

Clover thought. The EBP was one of the dozens of fraternities that littered the Cambridle dorms, recruiting impressionable young stallions and getting them drunk and disorderly. As if they need any help. “Sure. What about them?”

“They've taken notice of you,” Ginny said grimly. “There is a wager going. The entire brotherhood has chipped in. Two full years' worth of tuition at the university to the first pony who manages to seduce you.”

Clover felt her stomach lurch. “Oh.”

“Apparently the bet has been on offer for some time. But it was only a little while ago that one pony stepped up to be the first to try.”

Clover suddenly felt very empty, as if her internal organs had been sucked away and she was a paper shell. She heard herself say “oh.”

“I am keeping an eye out for him, but it seems he just left town,” Ginny said, peering around suspiciously about her. “The Brotherhood doesn't want to talk about him… I will make them talk. I am a librarian. I have ways of getting information.”

Clover said nothing.

A clock tower rang the hour in the distance and Ginny cursed under her breath. “I need to get back to the library. The Litany of the Scriptors is about to begin, and I must attend it lest the words of errance escape into the world. Go back to your teacher's house. I'll come speak to you again as soon as I can!”

Clover barely nodded in response and Ginny galloped down the street towards the Cambridle University Library.

Clover watched her leave. She stood there unmoving for a full minute before she turned and started walking down the street with unsteady steps, not looking where she was going.

Oh.

So.

Right.

Yeah.

Clover wandered slowly through Cambridle, counting the cobblestones underneath her, while memories of the time she spent with Dusty ran through her head.

And it was all lies. Celestia I am an idiot.

Good job, Clover. You thought a colt liked you? You should have known that was too good to be true.

The images of past few days played before her eyes. The laughs, the conversations. The two of them clinging to each other on the rickety staircase. His pretty face, his really big eyes.

She remembered how he had made her feel, and felt nauseous.

I got suckered by some EBP cad. Because they thought it would be fun to mess with the mad wizard's outcast student, the one who wears a stupid cloak made from repurposed bark and jungle vines, and I never saw it coming. Because I spend my time studying magical principles and theories and lose sight of ponies.

Because of Star Swirl. Because I got sucked into his orbit and started following his path.

I tried to help him. I only wanted to pull him up and show him what he could be if he allowed it. He could be a great hero! He could be in charge of the whole university if he would just work with ponies instead of against them!

He destroys everything he touches. I'm just another point on the long list of his casualties. Why did I think I was going to be different? Eh, Clover Cordelia? What makes you so special? Why did you think you would be exempt?

It wasn't his fault. He didn't do anything with Dusty. He was right about Dusty from the start, and it was me who didn't see it. He tried to chase Dusty off from the start, doing that ridiculous overprotective father thing.

Does Star Swirl the Bearded really think he's a father figure for me?

He tried to protect me, didn't he? And I didn't take his advice. I've been trying to pull him out of his shell, but what in Tartarus do I know that he doesn't? Face it, Clover, you're useless.

“She's trespassing on Siblinghood territory,” a young mare murmured, but her companion shushed her. “I recognize her. She's a friend of the Hoof. Let her pass.”

That's what I get for trying, I guess. My parents were right. Star Swirl was right. Swirly Star was right too. I have no idea what I'm doing here.

I want to go home.

Not to Canterlot House. Home. In Whinnysor.

At least Platinum will be happy to see me, at least until I manage to disappoint her too.

She turned around and looked down the street, ignoring the banners and the signs, focusing on the barely-visible hill on the horizon, where, six blocks to the left, stood Canterlot House.

I just need to go back for one last thing.

– – –

In the house he had seized, a griffon moved his claws from one item to the next: a knife, a lockpick, a piece of light-weight armor, a rune-inscribed stone, a sigil. At each one he would verify its qualities: brittle, rigid, flexible; sharp, polished, reflective, matte, smooth, sticky.

One by one his tools were judged, and found ready.

Four times he had killed his target before the target knew he was there. A little prick, and then nothing.

When he reached the sigil he would halt, and begin to recite an incantation under his breath. Then he would continue with his tools.

He had been offered the throne of the Griffon Emperor, by nobles who thought he cared only for trinkets and treasure: who thought they would wield the power, while he faced all the danger.

There are many ways to kill a wizard. Speed, force, treachery, circumvention. He had used them all.

He often found it was very useful to be seen as a dullard with a very specific skill-set. It was good publicity, for one thing: the kinds of individuals who wanted to hire a professional assassin were often reluctant to work with anyone more clever than themselves.

The life and history of griffonkind rang in his thoughts, the chain and consequence of every scheme. His employers would be surprised he knew them. Every creature who thought they knew him would be surprised at many things about him.

Once the target had looked into his eyes as he died, covered in blood, and he had seen the spirit leave his gaze, had watched the moment the magic went still, and returned to where it had come from.

The Emperor's throne beckoned to him, and he began to recite the names of those he had killed as the sigil spun in his claws.

The hour struck, and silently he rose on his eagle talons and lion's paws. He put his protective pads on, then put on his overcoat with many pockets, and he put every weapon and tool in its special place until they were all vanished from sight, and every one within easy reach.

He calmly emerged from the house, and walked casually down the street towards Canterlot House.

Star Swirl the Bearded's home stood empty, aside from one pony in a cage. Every security feature had been uncovered, every trap spotted.

The griffon took the key from the mail box and unlocked the front door, and entered as an old friend, his knives flashing in the sunlight.