The Egg Thief

by OleGrayMane

Chapter 3 — From Darkness Into Light

 
Wry had every right to the incredulous look on his face. If I'd heard it from him, I would have assumed it was an elaborate joke. But the story I told him when we I arrived in the subbasement on Monday morning was no joke. There was no punch line about eggs or dragons, only the realization that what we thought was going to be a spring cleaning project was getting annoyingly complex.

“And you're positive you heard the professor right?” Wry asked.

“Yeah, I'm sure. And Birdsong agreed. Contents: one genuine dragon.”

“Damn.” He sat down and shook his head. “Damn.”

“So, you were right after all, Wry. That room did hold something valuable, even if we can't sell them.”

“I guess.” He looked up at me. “So, we'd better tell DeCamp then.” He paused. “Or the boss?”

I sat motionless, thinking about what to do. Birdsong thought we should bypass everypony and tell the Princess directly. We'd have to tell somepony sometime, but I wasn't ready to do that. I wanted to know about the maniac who stole the all those eggs. Who was he and what was he planning on doing with them? And what if we found out he was somepony famous and our discovery created a scandal? Royal Mad Scientist's Hoard Discovered! A delicate matter indeed, and nopony at the Palace would appreciate us generating those kind of headlines. The whole deal with DeCamp and his boss could be off, and while I couldn't say I'd mind skipping the rest of the rooms, Rapid Fire would take it out on me for the rest of my life. Nothing provided me with the impetus to talk to anypony.

“We'll tell them both, eventually. We'll have to. But not right now, okay?” I massaged my chin. “I can't put a hoof on it, but something's going on, Wry. The whole thing smells rotten.”

“I'll open a window.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, give a rest. I'm serious.”

“Well, Mr. Serious, learn to relax.” Wry ruffled his mane and smiled. “I get ya. Yeah, a couple of days and then we'll decide what to do. Maybe one of us will have a flash of brilliance.”

I scoffed. “I'm not asking for brilliance. I just want to be done with it, that's all.” Wry nodded back.

“Okay,” I said. “A day or two to think about it before we tell anypony. Deal?”

“Fine with me. They're your find, Dusty. And who knows, we might find something more valuable by then.”

I looked at him like he'd announced he was trying out for the Royal Ballet. “What's with the sudden optimism, Wry? You running a fever?”

He stood and stretched. “Must be all the sunshine I'm getting down here.”

I grunted back and start off, but instead of going to a new room, I walked towards room two.

“Hey, buddy,” Wry said. “You've done that one already.”

“I know. I'm going to see if I can find something about the old egg collector.”

—❦—

I squandered forty-five minutes rummaging through the desk in room two, trying to find a clue about the old naturalist. There wasn't a scrap of paper to be found with a name or date or any indication of who he was. I pried off the back of some of the framed photos, hoping to find an inscription. That was a total waste of time. But if this guy was famous or important, they would have taken his papers to the Royal Library. They'd left the photos behind because they were personal mementos, nothing but sentimental value. That's why the place was stripped clean.

But the photos were the only way I had left to identify him. Birdsong might recognize him, and if not, we could always go back and ask Edwina. Right then, I needed to work on another room before DeCamp popped in on us again. With one of the photos in my pocket, I closed up room two.

I'd wasted too much time going through the desk, and I still needed to return the egg to its drawer. If DeCamp was to drop by at that moment, he'd see it sticking out of my saddlebag and ask questions. He might think I was trying to steal it, so it need to go back to its drawer before I got into trouble. I dug out the keys to room six and took the egg with me.

I pulled open the drawer I'd taken the egg from on Friday and froze. When I'd left on Friday there were five eggs in the drawer, now there were six. I went and consulted my list. The final drawer held six eggs, one of which I took home. Where in Equestria did the other one come from?

Certainly no dragon snuck in to lay a new one, and they weren't reproducing on their own. Somepony put it there. Wry? It would be an epic joke for sure, but his humor was more spontaneous and always verbal. Practical jokes weren't his style. Also, I'd locked both doors on Friday, so he couldn't have gotten in anyway.

My next suspect was DeCamp. He might have come down here and put an extra egg in the drawer to throw off—

That made no sense. First, where would he get an egg? Where would anypony get another egg? And even if he did, how could he have gotten in to the room? The keys were with me all weekend. Maybe the old buzzard had an extra set.

And maybe Wry was right. DeCamp might know what the rooms contained all along. And maybe that wasn't a new egg at all. He could've rearranged things. I had to check.

It took me an hour to make sure the drawers were filled like I expected. And dammit, they were. I stood there, my mouth agape, when I heard Wry's voice from the front half of the room.

“Hey, Dusty. You ever gonna start work today?”

“Yeah, sorry.” I regained my composure as quick as I could. “I lost track of time.”

“Well, don't,” he said. “Pick up the pace, the slave driver said. Pick up the pace.” He clacked his hooves together.

“Right. Sorry.” I'd have to sort it all out later. I locked up both parts of six and went to open my next room.

Room eight held the naturalist's botany collection, but I didn't care two bits what it held. If the drawers would've been overflowing with venomous snakes, I wouldn't have given it a second thought. Instead of concentrating on my work, my mind was back in room six, back with that extra egg. By the time Wry called me for lunch, I'd made little progress.

“So,” he asked. “Have you figured out who we should tell about the dragon eggs?”

“No.” I mechanically bit into my sandwich and swallowed while I tried to figure out how the extra egg ended up getting in that drawer. “Wry, did you tell anypony what we're doing down here?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied and I glared at him. “I told all seven of the mares I'm dating. I got a different one for each day of the week, ya know.”

“Come on, cut out the jokes. Does anypony know we're down here, that is, besides DeCamp and the boss?”

“If they do, they didn't hear it from me. Why?”

I didn't answer. Birdsong knew where I was. And maybe April. Anypony else from the museum? Oh yeah, the entomologist looking at the list from room two. But she wasn't supposed to know where the list came from. Even if anypony knew, the museum stood to gain a massive collection for free, so they had no motive to mess with us. Anyway, they didn't know precisely where we were, and they wouldn't have access to the castle grounds.

Rapid Fire might get DeCamp to let him in, but if the boss wanted to screw with us, he'd have more direct routes to do it. And he'd never survive the trip up all those stairs. We would've stumbled over his corpse on the way down in the morning. Regardless, how would've any of them found another dragon's egg? There was only one pony that could have put the egg there, and that was DeCamp.

A piercing whistle jolted me back to reality.

“Hey,” Wry exclaimed. “You havin' a stroke over there or something?”

“Sorry.”

“That's your word for the day, isn't it?” He rubbed the side of his neck as he sized me up. “You're acting weirder than normal, pal. Now, you always nagging me to get things off my chest, but now it's your turn. What's up, Dusty?”

It took a second to organize my thoughts. “Remember last week when you thought DeCamp might be up to something?” He nodded in agreement. “I'm inclined to agree with you.”

—❦—

The afternoon proved as unproductive as the morning. By quitting time, I'd finished no more than half the room. Wry was unusually nice to me, telling me to go home and get a good night's sleep. I guess I looked so bad he couldn't derive any pleasure from harassing me. If he had, I was so lost in thought that I wouldn't have responded anyway.

When I got home, I tried to take his advice, but neither the good nor the sleep part of the night worked out. A twisted parody of DeCamp tormented me throughout the night, laughing at my suffering.

But why would he do anything? To get us in trouble, maybe even thrown in jail? And why would he add an egg instead of taking one away? Every time I thought I'd figured out a reason, just as quickly I'd come up with a contradiction. The only thing that made sense in the whole business was that DeCamp must be behind it.

In the morning, the reflection in the bathroom mirror looked marginally better than I felt. I was a wreck again, all thanks to my crummy job. I splashed water on my face and headed out in a daze. My walk to the castle was a blank, for the next thing I remembered after hitting the street, I was standing outside the castle grounds. The gaping mouth of the castle's entrance waited to swallow me up as I stood paralyzed before it. Finally, I put on my badge and walked in.

By the time I got down the stairs to the basement, I was fifteen minutes late. Wry was already working on another room, so I stood in the doorway and announced myself.

“Hey. I'm here.”

He put down his clipboard and came out to see me. At first he didn't say anything, taking plenty of time to examine my condition. No doubt he didn't like what he saw. Then the lecture began.

“Dusty, you look like hell. I've seen you better hungover than the way you look right now. You're letting this job get to you, and you shouldn't. You let it mess with your head, didn't you? Bet you didn't sleep at all last night. Am I right?”

I looked down at my hooves.

“Now, how many times have we said it, eh? No job's worth making your life a misery. You've got to stop caring. Nopony pays us enough to care. I know that and you should know that.”

“I just need to get some rest, that's all.”

“Then do it. Go home and sleep the damn day away. It'll be good for ya. If anypony asks, I'll tell them you got sick.” He corner of his mouth crept into a grin. “And that would be pretty close to the truth.”

“Let me see if I can finish this room.” I rubbed my temple. “If I can't, I promise I'll go home.”

“Deal.” He gave me a pat on the shoulder. “Take it easy, pal,” he said and he went back to work.

I closed my eyes and struggled to remember where I was working. Room eight, the botany collection, right? I stumbled off. Drawer labels and lists swirled in my mental fog, but eventually I fell into a rhythm and work progressed.

It was some time after noon when the room was finished. My writing on the inventory sheets was a barely legible scrawl, but it was complete. I could have fallen asleep in an instant, but my spirits were buoyed a bit—only a bit. I staggered into the corridor. Wry was almost finished eating.

“Come to eat?” he asked. I shook my head.

Wry took a bite from his apple and watched me silently, taking his time chewing. He swallowed and asked, “Finished your room, have ya?”

“Yeah, sorry it took so long.”

“There you go being sorry again. Stop being sorry and get back to being yourself. That's an order.” Wry rummaged around in his lunch sack to see if he'd missed anything. “So what do you think will be up next in your museum collection? Shells? Fish? Ooh, maybe stuffed animals.”

“Stuffed animals?” I grunted. Like I needed more dead things. “That's disgusting.”

“What? Taxidermy's making a comeback. We could make some money from them, provided they're not falling apart.”

I stared at him long and hard. Usually, I could tell if he was baiting me, but I wasn't sure. Was he trying to get a rise out of me? Did he expect a snappy retort? Everything seemed off kilter.

Wry cracked a smile. “Why don't you go home and take a nap?”

“Because,” I grumbled, “I don't want you to have fun with my stuffed animals.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” Wry startled me when he hopped up. “I'm having too much fun in grandma's attic over here.” He tilted his head toward my side of the corridor. “Ready?”

I hauled myself up and started trying keys on room ten. Wry hung around to see what I got. Or maybe he wanted to make sure I didn't fall asleep on my hooves. The door of number ten opened up and a miracle occurred.

There were no cases.

The room was filled will moderately sized statues and draped paintings, undoubtedly victims of an ancient redecorating plan. Wry let out a whistle and slapped me on the back so hard that I practically fell into the room.

“Congratulations. Enjoy yourself.” He walked off.

They were nothing but dust covered statues and stack of paintings, yet I felt like I was entering paradise. I was free: no more bugs or birds or their accursed eggs. This was the type of merchandise we needed to find, the classy art that rich ponies would trip over themselves to buy because it came from the castle. Both the boss and DeCamp would be happy.

I wasn't happy, only relieved.

And I did enjoy myself, for a while at least. For almost a week I'd done nothing more than copy inventories, and I'd yet to appraise a single thing. Now, I had to actually do my job: describe the items, look for marks, guess their ages, and assign values. With so little decent sleep, after an hour I got woozy and shuffled off to rest in the corridor.

I slumped against the wall and considered taking Wry's advice and heading home, but I was already a day behind. Neither the boss nor DeCamp would take kindly to me ducking out for the rest of the day.

That damn DeCamp. He was the source of my misery. It was his fault I couldn't get a decent night's sleep. Trying to figure out what he was up to made me weary. I closed my eyes for only a moment. I slept for at least an hour. It was one of those sleeps where you're transported through time, like you hadn't slept at all. I startled myself awake with a snort and hoped Wry hadn't heard. Even if he'd suggested a nap, catching me sleeping on the job would be fodder for endless jokes.

I hadn't taken a mid afternoon nap since I was a kid, and I'd forgotten how refreshing they were. An hour of sleep, and having new things to work on, made me a new pony. For the moment, I forgot about DeCamp and the extra egg nonsense. I snuck back into room ten without Wry spying me and got to work as fast as I could.

The next couple of hours flew by as I cataloged statues of ponies holding up vases, smelling flowers, or posing in some contrived, nonsensical manner. Overall, we'd to turn a nice profit from the contents of room ten, even if the items lacked a certain sophistication. Near the back, I came upon some statues shoved against the wall.

They were a symmetrical pair, like the type you'd place on either side of an entrance. Each was of a dragon perched atop the ramparts of an ancient castle, their scales and folds of their wings precisely carved, like they'd been sculpted from life. They stood with their tails wrapped about their feet, placid looks on their faces, with one arm raised like subservient pets.

Dragons. Eggs. Seven not six. Why couldn't I forget about the damn dragons and their damn eggs? The contents of the drawer flashed back in vivid detail, mocking me. I couldn't bear to be in the same room with those statues. I ran into the corridor, a wave of nausea washing over me.

DeCamp was setting us up for something, but what? I tried, but I couldn't shake my fears.

I needed to check the drawer again. Maybe I'd imagined the whole thing. Hard as I tried, I couldn't convince myself I'd made a mistake, but I needed to be certain. I need to go back to room six.

Nopony will ever know how desperately I wanted to look down at six eggs sitting in that drawer. I'd look down and there'd be only six when I checked, and then I'd laugh myself silly. Wry would too. It would be a preposterous joke born of paranoia and lack of sleep. My hooves trembled as I fought to unlock the door to the back half or room six. I shoved the door open and raced to the cabinet. I yanked the last drawer open.

Eight eggs.

And I laughed. I laughed the laughter of madness.

It must be DeCamp. He was the only possible one. I hadn't liked DeCamp since I laid eyes on him. He was making fools of us. He'd accuse us of fraud, deception, anything he could.

But what did he gain? Why would he do this to us?

Maybe we weren't the targets. Maybe it was Rapid Fire. Could DeCamp be setting up his old pal to repay him for a slight years ago? He looked spiteful enough to wait decades for vengeance, but what was his motive? What offense did Rapid Fire commit to make DeCamp want to hold a grudge for all those years?

Rapid Fire played the mares. Sometimes he'd go on forever about his exploits in the past. I never understood what they saw in him and neither could Wry. Could it be Rapid Fire had a squabble over one with DeCamp years ago and now he'd have his revenge? A scandal could ruin what little reputation Rapid Fire's business had. Wry and I would be hapless victims.

I thought I understood what he was doing. The drawer must have always been filled with eggs, and DeCamp had taken half of them out before we'd even got here. They were heavy, so he was smuggling them back in one at a time so as not to draw attention from anypony. Yes, that had to be it. I was certain I'd figured it out.

DeCamp was sneaking the eggs back to make it look like we planning on shorting him. Our inventory would be short, and he'd accuse us of theft to ruin Rapid Fire's business as revenge for some love triangle back in school.

And now that I'd figured it out, I vowed I'd catch him in the act.

I went and found Wry in his room and explained my plan.

Wry squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Dusty, this sounds like a real bad idea.”

“Listen, just do what I ask, okay?” My voice trembled. “I'll give you fifty bits.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a frustrated laugh. Wry looked at me and sighed. “Why don't you come and spend the night at my place instead? We'll take a break from all this craziness and have some drinks. You can even sleep in the bed and I'll take the couch.” He put his foreleg around my neck. “It'll be like the old days, eh?”

I pushed him away.

He stared at me. “I'm worried about you, buddy,” he said in a deadpan. “I think—I think you're losing it.”

I realized what I was asking him to do. Of course Wry should be concerned. I was acting crazy, and if I'd been in his place, I'm sure I'd have reacted the same way. Now, I'd have to tell Wry what I knew to convince him. There was no other way.

“DeCamp's been messing around with the dragon eggs I found in the back room. He's been adding an egg each day—”

“What? Why?”

“He's setting us up to make us look like we're going to short him.” I looked up at the ceiling and took a series of breaths. “We're going to get framed and thrown in jail so he can ruin Rapid Fire's business. It's just like you said. He knows what's down here, Wry, he always has. He knows how valuable the eggs are. I'm sure of it.”

Wry stood dumbfounded.

“I'm positive that's what he's doing,” I said. “And I'll be damned if I'm going to let him get away with it.”

“And you think he's gonna come back? Tonight?”

“I don't know for sure, but if he does, I'm going to catch him.”

—❦—

At the end of the day, we walked into the back half of room six. We pushed the empty cabinets along the far end of the room aside so I could hide in the corner. I'd have a good view of the drawer where DeCamp was adding eggs, and I'd be be able to tackle him if need be. While I practiced getting in and out of the space in the corner, Wry fetched a tarp for me to hide under. I used my pen knife to cut a slot in it to peer through.

I backed into the corner and sat down. Wry looked at me with a nervous grin, the type that looks like it can fall apart in a moment.

“Now,” I told him, “I'm betting he'll either be down here in an hour or two when he's sure we're gone, or he'll be here right before you show up in the morning. Don't show up early tomorrow, no matter what. I don't want you to scare him off.”

“Right,” he said and then we both got quiet. “Take care of yourself.”

Wry walked towards the door.

I heard the clack of the key throwing the bolt and the room lights faded. A splash of light from the outer room snuck under the door. In a little while, Wry locked up the front half of the room, and the last sliver of light disappeared. My eyes retained an after image for a fraction of a second.

And then nothing.

It was the blackness of the tomb, of being swallowed whole by some gigantic beast. I was engulfed in total, utter darkness.

And silence.

I became acutely aware of my own breathing. I panicked. DeCamp was bound to hear me when he entered the room. How could he miss the roar of my lungs? Covering my mouth and nose made things worse as I began to hyperventilate. Five minutes hadn't passed, and the last of my sanity had fled. The urge to race to the door and scream for Wry seized me. But how could I even find the door in the sea of blackness?

No, I told myself. Get a grip. I clasped my body to prove I still existed in that void. Then I decided I'd shut my eyes and concentrate on—

Laughter echoed through the room. Shut my eyes. What foolishness! Why, I couldn't see anything with them open, so how was closing them supposed to help? The absurdity fueled more laughter, and when it subsided, the tranquil darkness settled in. I sat there, accompanied only by my thoughts.

The uniform, dark silence left me no reference to mark the passage of time. I had no watch, and even if I had, I'd no forethought to bring a flashlight to read it. In the jumble of dream like thoughts of DeCamp and Rapid Fire, Wry and Birdsong, and Edwina and the egg, I dropped off several times, I think, but there was no way to tell with certainty.

I waited in my corner, suspended in time, just like my companions in their eggs. At last, I heard a scratching sound. He was coming, trying to unlock the door. My body tensed and I waited for the room lights to announce his entrance. But the room remained dark, and the scratching grew louder.

Sharp cracks joined the infernal scratching. I heard soft mewling and hissing. The eggs were hatching! Drawers burst open as the beasts filled the room, their claws scraping across the floor. Tiny feet clambering over me.

I screamed and hit my head on the side of the cabinet next to me. I was covered in sweat, not dragon hatchlings. Damn you for being right, Wry. This was a bad idea, a very bad idea. But now, there was no escape until either he came for me in the morning or DeCamp arrived. So I waited, hoping there'd be no more dreams.

—❦—

All night I floated in and out of sleep, reliving the events of the previous week in a agitated loop. Somewhere in the timeless dark, I heard a loud buzzing followed by a sharp pop. Only then did I realized my eyes were closed and I'd been asleep.

I opened my eyes. Instantly, they were dazzled, seared by an overpowering white light by the door. The agony of its brightness swept away the fog of sleep.

I didn't recall hearing the door open, and it didn't seem like the room lights were on. It didn't matter. DeCamp was there and coming closer. I listened as he walked towards the drawer. Each step rang out, not with the dull thud of an iron shoe, but clear and musical like a bronze bell.

The lantern he carried shown brilliantly, and the hours of sitting in the total dark made it impossible for me to make him out. I kept my position. The hoof steps stopped, and I heard the scrape of the wooden drawer sliding open.

Now I had him. I prepared to throw off the tarp and spring on him. My eyes adjusted, but the world remained a blur, my vision overpowered by the powerful white light. But I didn't need to see him clearly. I'd leap out and he'd have no escape in the narrow aisle.

I was ready to pounce, when I heard the voice.

“I've brought you another companion, my children.”

Her voice was exactly as Professor Hitichinpost described it: every word a song.

My heart stopped. To my horror, my eyes resolved the blazing, incandescent form standing not ten feet from me. There she stood, pure white, her scintillating mane flowing around her.

The drawer closed, and I heard the ringing of her golden shoes as she walked away.

“Sleep well, little ones. Dawn is coming for you soon.” She laughed, like a gentle breeze, and disappeared in a brilliant flash.

I quivered in the corner with the Princess's form irrevocable burned into my mind.

—❦—

My were eyes wide open, fixed on the nothingness of the dark, as I huddled beneath the tarp. There was no escape from what I’d witnessed. My mind replayed every moment of what I'd seen in excruciating detail. Again and again I heard the drawer open and shut. Over and over I saw her form and recalled the words she’d spoke.

In desperation, I pleaded for it to be a dream, a nightmare that would end at dawn. But no dream arrived to rescue me from, and I knew that once Wry opened the door, once the lights in the room came up, there would be another egg in that drawer.

How wrong I’d been, how naïve. I’d vilified DeCamp, but he couldn’t have been getting into the room. He simply couldn’t. That door hadn’t been opened in ages, and while DeCamp was in good shape for his age, it took two of us to force it open. He’d never been back here—ever. He couldn’t have made it past that door.

But she had no need for doors. Why bother with nuisances like doors and keys when you can wink and be anywhere in an instant?

Of course it wasn’t DeCamp. He didn’t know or care what was down here. All he cared about was looking good for his boss. I held no warm feelings for him, that’s for sure. Ultimately, he was nothing more than a punctilious official who delighted in torturing underlings. But at least he wasn’t driving a species to extinction.

No, this was never DeCamp’s doing nor was it the doing of the old naturalist. I should have known it the moment I pulled open one of the drawers. He was too meticulous to leave behind an undocumented collection. The dragon eggs weren’t a collection anyway. They were a hoard of captured treasure. And the cases were too old. Most likely she’d filled half the room by the time the old fellow passed on and his collection was sent to the basement.

And when they’d brought it here, they probably couldn’t get that door open either. Or they didn’t even try. The eggs were the smallest of his collections, so naturally they went into the smallest room. Once they’d filled the front half, nopony cared about the locked door and what was behind it. Their job was to get rid of things, not find them.

Finding was my job, and I’d found what I never wanted. I’d found what the room held and who put it there. I’d seen the culprit, and she needed no accomplices.

No accomplices, but she’d had help. The royal guard, the scientists, even poor old Edwina, all of them were in oblivious collusion with her. Of course the dragons were dying out. She made sure each generation got smaller and smaller by kidnapping their unborn and concealing them here.

Such duplicity, proclaiming her desire to help the poor dragons with her observation program. She’d perverted her scientists and the military into a spy network to hunt down the stragglers. I felt sick realizing how she’d manipulated decent, honorably ponies like Edwina, reducing them to dupes in her sinister plan.

Her plan for—what? Why bother keeping the eggs if she just wanted to exterminate the dragons? I would have though she’d destroyed them. Were they too tough to smash or resistant to her magic?

I remembered Edwina said the Princess could use magic to hatch them. She must have wanted to hatch the eggs, otherwise she wouldn't have kept them. But why?

I've brought you another companion, my children.

Children? An egomaniacal fantasy to be the surrogate mother to an entire species? For heaven’s sake, she's already a damn princess. What more could she want?

All right. One day she’d make sure the dragons would be no more, extinct except for the eggs. Where was the explanation for why would she wanted the dragons to meet their end. Maybe she perceived them as a threat to the empire. But dragons hadn't been in conflict with us for well over a thousand years. Nothing made sense, but maybe she didn't need a why. I might never figure out the why, but I need to know what she’d do once they were gone.

So, no more dragons for some unfathomable reason. Then she decides to hatch the eggs, and overnight she's the mother to thousands of squalling little dragons. Okay, then what? What would she do with them? For that matter, how would she feed them? It would be like trying to feed a jewel-hungry army.

An army? It would take fifty years before they'd be grown, but then she'd posses an army of the most powerful and ferocious beasts in the world, all of them loyal to their one and only mother. She could conquer the world—if she’d wanted to.

No, I couldn’t imagine ponies going along with world conquest. Not in the long run at least. Let’s say a border scuffle broke out against the griffons or the minotaurs. She’d have plenty of support to let her dragons fight in the place of ponies. But if she didn’t stop, if she kept expanding the conflict, there'd be protests, peace demonstration, and then…

The idea was too repugnant. She’d never use dragons against her own—would she? I shook with revulsion.

But it didn’t matter what she planned on doing, for she’d already committed her crimes. She’d robbed parents of their children, she’d held unborn lives captive, and she was denying a species its rightful future. Nopony, regardless of who they are, has the right to do those things.

Her crimes were horrific enough, no matter what she planned. Ponies had to know what she’s done. Somepony had to stop her while the dragons were left alive.

Dawn is coming for you soon.

She planned on hatching them all right, but how soon? Her concept of time was different from ours, so soon might mean a few months, a year, or as long as a decade. There were still eggs to add to her collection, so a few dragons must remain alive.

Without warning, a curious calm descended over me, sweeping away all my fear, all my doubt. In my mind, my future stretched out before me, my duty clearly illuminated as if it was midday.

Yes. There was time remaining. There was time to save the dragons.

There was time for me to stop her.

—❦—

Wry pushed open the door and the lights came up. “Dusty? You awake?”

“Yeah, I'm awake.” How the hell could I have slept. I blinked, adjusting to the brightness. “Help me out here.” Wry hustled down the aisle and helped me climb out of my corner, and I stumbled towards the drawer. I had to know—now.

“I take it DeCamp didn't show.”

I ignored him and pulled open the drawer. Even with half-blinded eyes, I could see it held nine eggs.

“Toss me my bags,” I commanded.

He got the bags from the corner and handed them over. “You gonna tell me what happened?”

I took the egg I'd shown to Birdsong and Edwina and put into my bag. I'd made it a promise, so it was coming with me. The new addition to the drawer took its place.

I grabbed Wry. His eyes widened.

“Hey, what gives? You gonna tell me what went on last night?”

“No,” I said plainly. “I'm never going to tell you.”

“You're nuts, Dusty!”

“Exactly! Tell everypony I'm nuts, completely out of my skull, bonkers.” He looked at me in horror and my heart sank. Wry and I had been in school together. We'd worked together for years and shared lots of laughs, keeping each other sane when the work threatened to drive us genuinely mad. I couldn't tell him the truth, but I owed him something.

“I'm going to go away, Wry. I won't be back.”

“What?”

“You've been a good friend, the best, and that's why I can't tell you. I won't tell you. But don't worry, you'll find out soon enough. I promise you that.”

“Hey.” His voice shook. “Let's take the day off, okay? We both need a break. We'll go to the park and just hang out—not do a damn thing.”

I couldn't contain my smile. How simplistic to think a day in the park could fix anything anymore.

“Wry, I need to ask you another favor.”

“Sure, buddy. Anything.”

“Forget about this room and last night. Forget about anything you know about the eggs. When anypony asks, tell them I've been acting strange, deranged, but don't tell them the truth about anything.” My vision returned and I put on my saddle bags.

“I'm in too deep, Wry. There are things I've got to do, something I've got to fix. I'm going to disappear, and I'd recommend you do the same. Find a new job, in a new city if you can, but don't stay here. I couldn't sleep if I knew you were still here. Promise me that, okay?”

His face was a blank. “O-o-okay.” The pitch of his voice rose.

“Thanks.” I put a hoof on his shoulder. “Good luck, friend.” I turned to leave, but looked back one last time.

“Oh, and one more thing. When you see Rapid Fire, tell him he can shove this job.”

Wry pushed back his hat and beamed. “With pleasure.”

—❦—

My first stop after getting away from the castle was the bank, where I withdrew my pitiful savings.

“Is everything all right?” the teller asked. “Has there been a problem with our service?”

“Oh, no. Everything's fine. I'm off on a long journey after I talk to this mare I know.” I winked at her. She blushed and giggled.

From there, I headed to my apartment as fast my hooves could carry me. After I packed all I could easily carry, I put the egg in the box I'd used when we went to see the Professor. Next I got out my writing supplies.

My first note was to the landlord. I apologized for leaving on short notice, but there was a family emergency: a sick aunt down in Las Pegasus. Honestly, I don't know a soul there and I certainly wasn't headed that way, not yet. I added that I couldn't cover the rent, but he could see Mr. Rapid Fire for any wages I had coming and sell my junk for whatever it was worth.

Next came the letter to Birdsong. Dammit! I regretted getting her involved, but none of us had chosen this. Not me, not Wry, not even Rapid Fire or DeCamp. We'd all been caught in a train wreck by her madness, leaving us with few choices.

I knew Wry could take care of himself. He'd disappear, move somewhere else, and get a decent job, probably a better one. I found it hard to give a damn about DeCamp and even Rapid Fire even if they were innocent. All I can hope is that they don't send another couple of bums down to that basement and screw up their lives too.

And there was Birdsong. She had a real career, something she'd worked hard at, and I'd dragged her into this mess because of her knowledge. It wasn't fair. She deserved answers, and I hoped my letter to her would provide them. But she couldn't have those answers now.

The egg couldn't accompany me to my next stop, so it went into the closet with a blanked thrown over it. I knew it was a pathetic attempt to hide it, but if they were after me already, it wouldn't make any difference. If anypony was after me, time was important, and I couldn't waste a second.

I locked the front door and headed for the museum.

—❦—

I waited in line behind an older couple and fidgeted. April handed them a brochure and pointed towards the exhibit hall, and they ambled off. I stepped up to the counter and April's face lit up.

“Mr. Stone. What a surprise to see you so early in the day.”

“Yeah, early. Would you happen to know if—”

“She's in her office. Go ahead. You know the way.”

“Thanks, April.” She beamed a genuine smile, exactly what I'd hoped for when I spotted her last week. I'd finally passed the April test, but now it was too late.

I walked down the hallway and knocked on Birdsong's door. She was surprised to see me too. I sat down and placed the letter on her desk.

“What's this?” She reached over to open it.

I pinned her hoof to the desk. “No, don't. At least, not yet.”

“Is this some kind of joke, Dusty?”

“I wish it was a joke, but it's not.” I let her hoof go and she yanked it back, leaving the letter sitting between us. “That letter is my explanation for what's happened, for what's going to happen. And an apology for everything. But you can't read it yet.”

“What's happened, Dusty? What do you mean?”

“The letter will tell you. But you must promise me won't read it now.”

Birdsong drew a breath and released it. “I promise not to read your letter.” She tapped her hoof on the edge of the desk slowly and repeatedly. “But when can I read it?”

“You'll know.” I hated being cryptic, but the less she new, the better off she was. “I probably won't ever see you again, and that's why I put everything in that letter.”

“This is insane.” She crossed her forelegs. “What's with all the drama?”

I didn't reply, but instead tried to look as unemotional as possible.

“This has something to do with the dragon egg, doesn't it?”

“I need you to forget about the egg. Don't tell anypony about it or about the visit with the Professor.”

“But Dusty—”

“And the next time you see Edwina, convince her the whole egg thing was a dream. It was some wish fulfilling dream from her past, nothing more. You have to do that for yourself and her.”

“Dusty, that's heartless. Knowing an egg exists was a gift to her. Lying would be cruel.”

“Far less cruel than what could happen if you don't, Birdsong.” I looked into her eyes without blinking, trying to convey the gravity of the situation.

Dammit. Of anypony, I wanted to explain it to her, but it put her in too much danger. She couldn't run off and start a new life like myself or Wry. She'd have to stay, and that put her at risk once my work started. I stared in silence for the longest time until she looked away. When she looked back, she was twisting the hair in her mane.

Her voice wavered. “It's bad isn't it?”

“For me, yes. Let's leave it at that.” I smiled. “You and the Professor will be all right. I'm sure of it.”

Birdsong returned a brittle smile that made my insides feel rotten. She opened the desk drawer and swept the letter into it. There was a certain finality to the sound of the drawer closing.

I cleared my throat. “Before I go, I need to ask you one more thing.”

“I don't have any money,” she said.

I found it hard not to laugh. “No, not that. I need to know if you've had any acting experience.”

—❦—

I hugged Birdsong for the first time in my life and probably the last. Then she shoved me backwards through her office doorway and into the hall. My hooves slipped on the slick institutional flooring, and I skittered against the wall with a thunk. She's one strong mare.

“Get out you cad,” she bellowed. “I never want to see you again.”

“No, baby! Don't say that. You know you love me.”

“Get out! Get out!” She backed me down the hallway. Heads peeked out of offices to catch our performance. Now that we had a sizable audience, I ran for the entrance hall. Birdsong followed, spewing curses at me. Once both of us were in the hall, it was time to resume our drama.

“Birdie, baby! We're meant to be together. You know it in your heart.” I dropped to my knees like a jilted lover.

“I told you to get out and I mean it.” She twisted around, searching for something. Finally she grabbed a circular wastepaper basket sitting by April's desk and raised it over her head.

“You lothario!” She sent the basket hurtling towards me with perfect aim.

The basket landed between my eyes and bounced off with a plunk. I eyes filled with stars and I almost fell over. If I ever see her again, I really must compliment her on her strength.

When my eyes stopped watering, I saw a blubbering Birdsong hanging on April, the icy November winds of her eyes roaring at me. Perfect.

What concerned me next were the two guards closing in from my left. I scrambled to my hooves as fast as I could.

“Stay right there, bud,” the nearest guard said as he approached. “Don't give me no trouble.”

He was an older fellow, with plenty of extra weight on him, but the billy club at his side could inflict considerable damage to my skull if he chose to use it. The other guard was identically armed, but more of the gangly type. He was still a way off. As long as I kept some space between us, I knew neither would be a problem.

The mumbling museum visitors stopped to watch the unfolding spectacle. A small crowd gathered between the guards and the door, giving me the opportunity to end the play and make my grand exit. I turned to the nearest guard and made my lips tremble.

“She doesn't love me!” I blubbered and raced for the door without looking back, certain that neither guard would attempt to stop me. Once I hit the street, I kept a brisk pace all the way back to my apartment.

There wasn't much left to do. I propped up the letter to the landlord on an unwashed tea cup sitting on the table. I got my bags and retrieved the egg from the closet.

On my way to the door, I froze. That was it then—the end. I was leaving my life behind. If last week somepony would’ve told me then that I’d be standing there, prepared to walk away from everything I’d known, I’d have called them daft.

Behind me was my apartment with all the things I owned: my pictures, my books, even that shabby old couch. The contents of the dismal little place seemed insignificant, meaningless. I’d even castoff my job, the defining thing in my life, what made me valuable and unique. Now, it too was inconsequential.

For a brief moment, I thought it should’ve bothered me. But it didn't.

None of it held meaning any more. My job gave me existence but never significance. I’d duped myself into thinking it embodied who I was, but now I knew better. And the clutter I’d held so dear served only to distract me from living. It insulated me from the emptiness, my lack of purpose, trapping me inside of myself. For almost thirty years, I'd been drifting, letting circumstance effortlessly propel me down a path. I’d become derelict in living, in caring about others, and I’d been delivered to a dingy apartment filled with mediocrity.

No, I wasn't leaving a life behind, I was starting to live.

When I walked through that doorway, I’d be discarding a hollow shell of a life and replacing it with one that mattered. Precisely where that new life would take me was unknown, but uncertainty wouldn't stop me. I couldn't let anything stop me.

I strode out, locked the door, and tossed away the key, oblivious to where it landed. I headed down the deserted stairwell and out to the curb where I hailed a cab and told the driver to take me to the station.

An hour later, I sat in a railway carriage on the one o'clock train to—it doesn’t matter, does it? Everypony would know my destination soon enough. They’ll trace Dusty Stone's travels across Equestria just by opening the newspaper. I'll be right there on the page, telling them the truth about their Princess.

Their Princess, because she was mine no longer.

Of course, nopony will know my name. That’s not what’s important. But every newspaper editor out there will know me. I'll be the one kicking down their doors and demanding they listen to my story. I’m sure they'll brand me a madman or a liar, but once they see the proof, once they see the egg, they'll change their minds. I know they will. They'll have to.

Once I’ve told them my story, my job will be done, and I can move on and tell it to somepony else. I’ll have given them the truth, and armed with that, they can ask her the questions that must be answered, they can demand justice for the crimes she’s committed.

But I'm no hero, no idealistic fool. I’m certain she and her guards will track me down just like they tracked down the dragons. The day will come when I'll make a mistake, when I’ll trust somepony I shouldn't, and it’ll be over. I might get a trial, but I doubt it. She’d find it inconvenient.

And when that happens, I hope somepony else will finish the job. Whoever they are, I wish them luck, because they’re going to need it.

The egg sat next to me bundled up in its box, the two of us alone in the compartment. Right before the train pulled out, a mare hardly younger than I came in with her daughter. The foal clambered up on the seat and looked out the window. I gave them a civil nod but said nothing, pretending I was disinterested.

The excited child bounced as we left the station, but as we moved into the monotonous countryside, she became restless. Her mother reached into her bags and pulled out a toy: a small stuffed, white alicorn.

The foal smiled. She made the toy buzz around her head and prance across her lap.

My hoof shook. I repressed the urge to scream the truth about the monster living in that castle. I wanted to slap the figure from those little hooves and grind it into the floor.

But I'm not capable of such cruelty.

It didn't matter anyway. The truth would be out soon enough, destroying the fantasy of her and her empire. There was no reason to hasten that for an innocent child.

The mare tilted her head and watched me through narrow, suspicious eyes while I stared at the happy child. Perhaps she thought me a maniac or a foalnapper and would call for the conductor. I couldn't risk that.

“Precious.” I smiled at the mother. “She reminds me of my niece.” She appeared satisfied with my lie.

I turned towards the window with the blurred farmland racing by, but I didn't see a thing. I pulled the box containing the egg close to my side.

“Yes,” I murmured. “So precious.”

Comments

[Walabio]

As Twist would say, “¡What a Thwishth!” ¡Princess Celestia is an eggthief! ¡I did not see that coming!