I. A Midnight Meeting

Outside the sycamore forests at the western foot of Nettle’s Bluff, where geysers thrust their fury against the chilly north wind and tempered the frozen air with a refreshing steam, a stallion clad in the dark linen of a traveler’s cloak stood black against the low-hanging midnight sun.

He made his way slowly south through the snow-covered prairie, and held the cape close with his wings, so that it fluttered away from him on his right side, where he could not keep his grip.

The steam of the geysers was thick and difficult to navigate, but it was not long before, in the distance, the stallion could make out the larch which marked his destination. When he had clambered up a rocky knoll to reach the tree he drew his hoof across the bark and concentrated lightly; the pattern was now embossed in his memory, and the spell was simple once it was learned.

Where there had been ground, a flight of stairs appeared descending beneath the tree, and the lissome pegasus slipped down the steps as silent as the breeze. A heavy, red door blocked his way at the landing, at which he knocked with an unmistakable pattern of five raps, twice. He waited, tapping his hoof against the hard earth floor to busy his impatience.

The door swung inward upon a hollow-cheeked, young-looking unicorn of snow-white fur, with a long and waving mane that flowed in tresses both of red and whitish-grey. His crooked nose looked thoroughly contorted in the candlelight, and his steel-blue eyes were sunken deep into his skull, leaving on his visitor the impression of empty sockets beneath an imposing brow.

The candlelight fell on his guest, confirming his identity, and the unicorn’s brow became heavier and twisted with distress. He led the pegasus into the small, empty parlor, shut and bolted the door, and returned to drinking at a tree-trunk stool and a plain, wooden table: the room’s only furniture. He moved slowly and deliberately, like one much older than he looked, and swallowed his drink with a loudness that he hoped would evince his bitter humor.

“What is it, Hesper?” the unicorn grunted, his thin northern accent rolling over his glass.

“News,” returned the pegasus.

“I know it’s news, you dolt,” the unicorn spat, “else I would have plugged my ears against your knocking and left you in the cold. What news?”

“Aeolus,” Hesper began, his flaccid left ear twitching idly, “it’s about the Order.”

Aeolus rolled his eyes as if to say he knew this as well. Hesper made a show of perturbation, and continued even less boldly.

“The Order has summoned the alicorn, Aeolus,” he said beneath his breath. “Emerald Alembic.”

Aeolus set his glass on the table so firmly it made a sound as if to crack, and looked directly at Hesper for the first time.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” said Hesper aloofly, though he nearly faltered under the unicorn’s disdainful gaze. “They were going to summon him sooner or later. He’s the only viable candidate for the Master of Harmony.”

“He ought to be,” Aeolus sneered; “the Order has been grooming him for the Elements since they found him. Are the Elements of Harmony at the Monastery yet?”

“Since the full moon.”

“Good,” said Aeolus, letting himself relax a little. “Then we need to act quickly. The prophecy is drawing nearer to fruition, and it’s obvious the Order is doing everything they can to control it.”

“They say he has conquered all of the Elements of Chaos,” Hesper ventured after a pause. “He has struggled against Cruelty this entire time, but the facts don’t lie. He has finally conquered Cruelty, and the Element—”

“—the Element of Kindness is responding to him,” Aeolus broke in gruffly. “Yes, yes. Did you convince White Bird to supply him with the Experientias?”

“Not without alterations,” Hesper admitted.

“I was afraid of that. The Experientias are the final stage of preparation. If White Bird has corrupted them, it means he isn’t taking any chances.”

Aeolus stared at the stone-paved floor of the underground parlor, grinding his teeth, absorbed in contemplation.

“Do you still think he is the one the prophetess predicted?” Hesper asked, picking at one hoof with another. “Can he really be the Bahesu Nam?”

Aeolus did not answer immediately; he fixed his eyes even harder on the stone until Hesper fancied it would crack under the weight of his thoughts.

“The sixth Blue Harvest Moon is approaching,” he responded at last. “How farfetched can it be, now that we are so close? He has been their only candidate for six hundred years. If he is the Master of Harmony, I should like to get my hooves on him before the Order wins him over. But, even if he isn’t,” he shrugged, “the legendary Emerald Alembic would still make an invaluable research partner.”

“Why not intervene?” Hesper suggested. “Go to Emerald and take him under your wing. Don’t give the Order the chance to take him from you. If you want him alive, get out of your rocking chair and take him alive.”

“You don’t understand the state his mind is in,” said Aeolus, shaking his head. “Conquering his old nemesis, only to see a new one spring from the shadows, victimize him, then offer a hoof in dubious friendship. What use a third voice muddying the waters? I know what I am saying: Emerald Alembic will not listen to me. As it stands, the only way is to let him hear White Bird’s words. I know Alembic as well as the Fourth White Bird did. He will refuse to accept his identity. Only then will he be willing to listen, and I will tell him what he wants to hear.”

“That’s not very wise,” Hesper warned. “White Bird is like a child when it comes to losing. Even worse when his victory is snatched from beneath him at the last moment.”

“You have always wanted to be rid of him,” Aeolus said, casting a judging glance at Hesper. “If White Bird acts the sore loser, why not silence him?”

“You do me hurt, Aeolus. To think of it!”

Aeolus drained his glass, cleared his throat loudly, and spat into it.

“A disgusting habit,” Hesper grimaced. “You know I drink out of those glasses, too, sometimes?”

“How else shall I ever get you to stop?”

“Too cruel,” said Hesper, his sad eyes drooping sorrowfully. “So, what comes next?”

“He will come to Sintersfield of his own accord, that much is certain. Though he won’t come alone. I will let him hear White Bird’s lies from his own snake lips. After that I should like to have a word with him. So far his loyalties have rested on these lies: I have no doubt that the truth will free him of this burden.”

Silence prevailed, and Aeolus cast his eyes self-consciously upon his flank, which was white and bare as the snow-covered meadow above his head, but for a deep, round scar like the stab of a prod. He stroked this old wound softly, and his eyes went dim with a vacant expression, remembering the naivety of his youth.

“Then you want him alive?”

The question seemed to startle Aeolus. “He’s no good to anyone dead. If we can make him see reason, than he shall be no threat at all.”

Hesper tisked. “White Bird won’t see it that way. As far as the Order is concerned, the advent of the Bahesu Nam is the death of the Order. They won’t suffer him to live.”

“I know that,” Aeolus roared, sending Hesper backward a step. “Nor I’ll suffer them to kill him!”

Hesper took a long moment to gaze at his partner: the gaunt, pale unicorn with the wispy mane, breathing heavily, the passion of youth dancing in one eye, and the wisdom of centuries in the other. He smiled casually and shrugged.

“And what of the Ganymede?” he said, once he felt enough time had passed in silence that he was not changing the subject. “Our supply of the flower is too low, and the Circe flower didn’t respond to the Double Harvest magic.”

“You’ll have to travel to Alchyr and gather some more,” said Aeolus after a moment’s consideration.

“So close to the blue moon?” said Hesper. “My place is in the Monastery. Even jumping, I cannot make the journey fast enough not to be missed, not with security so high. It’s all I can do just to be here tonight. I have stallions who can make the journey for me. Brazen Bull should be willing.”

“Him?” Aeolus gaped. “No. A mercenary and a killer, I will not employ him.”

Hesper’s look darkened. “You entertain me, old boy, but do not think I will play the dutiful servant while you insult my blood.”

“You speak it true,” Aeolus said, sounding genuinely remorseful. “It was ill conceived.”

Hesper smiled. “You are too hard-hearted with my dear Brass, Aeolus. He is good at getting things done. And whatever you think of him, I shall put him to honest use gathering ingredients.”

“Do what you will,” Aeolus huffed, and Hesper knew he was the victor.

“Then it’s settled! Brass will take care of the Ganymede, and we’ll take care of the Elements.”

“Tell me the moment Emerald Alembic is seen coming north,” Aeolus grunted. “Afterward you shall have that night off. I’ll have…” he reached for the word, “an errand, and won’t be able to work the laboratory.”

“How mysterious.” Hesper smirked. “You must have plenty of free time, to be going on night-long escapades so close to the Blue Harvest. So when do we make our move against the Order?”

“The balance is fragile,” Aeolus mused. “I shall need a few days to study the Elements before we can use them. Perhaps the twenty-sixth.”

Hesper concealed the smile in his heart from Aeolus, and forced himself to appear perfectly solemn. Yet inwardly he rejoiced, that such long-held plans were bearing fruit at last.

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