16 - Bad Company
Twilight wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. Kutengwa was an isolationist; she wasn’t going to initiate conversation with a foreigner. But they’d been sitting in silence for a solid three minutes, watching the (unusually small) orchestra warming up. Kutengwa had obviously been silent, but Twilight had been just as silent, even though the whole reason she’d entered the box was because she’d wanted to talk with Kutengwa. If they stayed like this, then Twilight might as well just move over to the next box, where she wouldn’t have to deal wi-
“Your Highness?”
Twilight twitched at Stormwalker’s voice. She’d been fidgeting, but Stormwalker was silent and still to a degree that could make statues envious. “Something wrong?”
“I was just thinking… you can make shields, right?”
“Yeah. Easy. Shields are simple.”
“How colorless can you make them?”
“Um…” Twilight tapped her forehead a few times. “It’d take some doing, but as long as we’re not moving, nearly invisible. Why?”
“Maybe you should put a shield around the balcony. Just in case someone tries to shoot you with something.”
Twilight looked out over the auditorium. There was a lot of empty space there, and a lot of places for a shooter to be hiding. Might not be a bad idea, for completeness’s sake. “Good thinking.” Twilight’s horn sparked, and a magenta haze appeared at the edge of the balcony, ceiling to floor and wall to wall, quickly lightening to near invisibility, except at the edges. Sound wasn’t muffled at all.
Kutengwa and her guard both jumped and stared at the shield. Without turning to look at Twilight, Kutengwa asked, “Did… did you do that?” She was fidgeting in place, like she didn’t know whether to move back in alarm or lean closer and get a better look.
“Yeah. It’s a magical shield,” said Twilight. “It’ll stop anything solid from passing through, but it’s safe to touch.” To demonstrate, she leaned forward and bopped the shield with a hoof. Magenta rings radiated from the point of impact, quickly fading away. “I just thought, since, y’know, someone’s out to kill me, I should probably- I can move it if yo-”
“No, it’s, you’re alright,” muttered Kutengwa. She reached out, paused, then lightly poked the shield. “Huh.” She planted both hooves on the shield and pushed as hard as she could. No result. “Huh huh.” She looked at Twilight with an emotion Twilight couldn’t quite place. Fear? Apprehension? Surprise? For a moment, it looked like she was going to say something, but then she silently dropped back onto her cushion. For his part, the guard was staring at the shield like it was going to eat him somehow.
Twilight sighed. This was going to be tricky. She knew she had to say something, but she didn’t know what. And just as she started thinking about it, the play started up.
Twilight hadn’t picked up a playbill, so she didn’t know what to expect. The whole thing was… a bit strange. It was a pretty standard drama about infidelity (with almost no props and minimalistic sets, for some reason), but the acting was hard for her to describe. The actual emotions and reactions were fine, but the lines felt a bit stilted and there were often pauses, as if one of the actors had forgotten their lines. The orchestra never played once or even reached for their instruments. It was alright, but it was nothing spectacular (in particular, the pacing seemed a bit rushed), and then the curtain fell on the first scene, the audience was applauding and it was over.
Twilight blinked and wished she had a clock. That was way too fast. It had only been, what, ten minutes? But none of the zebras in the audience looked like they wanted to get up. Twilight stole a glance at Stormwalker; she looked just as confused as Twilight felt. When she noticed Twilight’s look, she shrugged. “Is that really it?” she muttered.
“You don’t know what this is?”
Princess and guard both switched their attention to Kutengwa, who was somehow glaring at them with amusement. Her guard was still at attention, but obviously looking in their direction. “No,” Twilight admitted. “I wanted to get out, and I like plays, and a friend recommended this, so… no, I don’t really know what’s going on.”
Kutengwa snorted. It was hard to tell if it was amused or derisive. “Well, at least your friend has good taste,” she mumbled. More loudly, she said, “This is kuifaragiza. Improvised drama. The actors are given a basic outline beforehoof, but all their lines are improvised.”
“All of that was improvised?” gasped Twilight. That explained a lot. “That’s… that’s really impressive. I mean, wow. I was an actress once, and I had enough trouble with my lines already written. I can’t imagine having to come up with them on the spot.”
“You were an actress?” Kutengwa asked skeptically. “A princess?”
“It was before I was a princess.”
“You… weren’t born into it? You became a princess?”
“Yeah, see, I… The…” Twilight’s voice dropped a little. She rubbed the back of her neck and looked away for a few seconds. “Equestria’s royalty system is kinda hard to explain.”
Kutengwa didn’t look that convinced, but dropped the matter. “Kuifaragiza is a long-standing zebran tradition. The actors go through the story several times, acting in a different style each time. The next one- Actually, here.” She pulled a playbill from out of her robe and slid it across the floor to Twilight.
Levitating the playbill in front of her, Twilight was reminded, not for the first time or the second time or even the seventeenth time that audio-only translation was severely limited. To read Zebran, she not only had to know which letters were which, but also how Zebran words were formed (in other words, how to speak Zebran). In a world full of the written word, having sounds translated could only get you so far. Twilight promptly resolved to redouble her efforts to learn all of Zebran’s orthography, lexicon, and grammar.
Still, she knew enough to get the gist from the pamphlet and identify the next style as (probably) comedy. A lot of the following words were unfamiliar to her, but she guessed one of them was a musical, somehow. She ran her hoof down the styles, counting them. Seven. And if each one lasted about ten minutes, while also adding in some between-style minutes for set changes or whatever they needed, yeah, that would add up to about an hour and a half, like Livingstone had said.
“Thanks,” said Twilight. She flicked the playbill back to Kutengwa, but it occurred to her that, given the way she’d acted last night, Kutengwa was being very friendly. It wasn’t much, but it was a far cry from the icy silence or passive-aggressive snipes Twilight had been expecting. She wondered why, but there was no way she could broach the subject in conversation without looking insensitive. Still, it was something, and Twilight decided she could live with it if Kutengwa was going to act tolerably.
“Sure, I-” But Kutengwa cut herself off and started staring at Twilight with a frown.
“What?”
“You’re thinking about how my attitude towards you now is clashing with my attitude towards you last night. I can see it on your face.”
Well, if she’d guessed that it quickly, there was really no use in denying it. “Yeah, kinda.” Behind Twilight, Stormwalker stiffened slightly.
Kutengwa blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Because now, we’re just watching a play and we’re in close contact with each other. Just because I don’t want you here doesn’t mean I get to be a jerk about it. Especially if we’re going to be boxmates for the next hour.” She grinned mirthlessly.
But, Twilight noted to herself, that hadn’t stopped her from being rude last night. Also, she hadn’t actually apologized for anything yet, and it didn’t feel like she was going to. (Also also, stupid politicking.)
“Glad to see you’re doing okay, by the way. Hate to have a death in the court.”
That threw Twilight for a little bit of a loop. Kutengwa might’ve been lying, but it seemed a bit too spontaneous for that. She hated foreigners, so why was she glad about Twilight surviving? Genuine care? Pure pragmatism? Something else completely? Of course, that was a very personal question, so there was no way for Twilight to actually ask that without seeming incredibly rude, a-
“You’re thinking about why I, an isolationist, wouldn’t want you, a foreigner, dead, right?”
“You’re perceptive.”
Kutengwa shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
“So…” Twilight coughed. “Now that that’s out of the way, why not?” It still felt way too personal a question for her to be asking, but Kutengwa had started it. By rights, it shouldn’t bug her. But it did, if only a little.
Kutengwa sighed and rubbed her head. “Look. I won’t deny I don’t want you here. But think about it. If you were to die, what would happen?”
“Equestria would probably send somepony over to figure out exactly what had happened.”
“Right. So you as a people aren’t gone. If anything, it’s worse, with your country intruding on mine and going more privately than you already are. By necessity, too. Besides, you’re still a person. Just not a person I want on my land.” Kutengwa glared at the stage. “I want you gone. I don’t want you dead. I don’t want anyone dead.” She paused. “Well, okay, not quite anyone. But those I do want dead, I want dead for better reasons than ‘they’re not zebras’.”
Not something Twilight wanted (or had the right) to ask about, so she didn’t. As for the rest, she didn’t quite know how to react to it. Kutengwa was being crazy pragmatic about everything; it was almost like a pony going on an anti-griffon screed, then having one over for tea. But then, from the sounds of things, Kutengwa’s beef with Twilight had nothing to do with her not being a zebra, and everything to do with her not being from Zebrabwe. The two of them could talk perfectly politely, but Kutengwa would always be asking, “So when’re you leaving?” Of course, there was always the possibility that she was faking it, but if she was telling the truth, that would imply she had nothing to do with the poisoning. Hmm.
As Twilight was wrapped up in her thoughts, the curtain rose on the next style. For the first thirty seconds, nothing changed. The lines, being improvised, were a bit different, and some of the character interactions had been altered slightly, but on the whole, it was the same as before.
Then one of the actors burst through the scenery (literally) and, with much scenery-chewing, loudly proclaimed she was the lead male’s daughter from the future.
It only got more bizarre from there, both in time-travel-related ways and not. There was something about a criminal syndicate smuggling pies, a long-lost heir to the throne, and time paradoxes ending the world, all without any props or set changes. In contrast to the dramatic style, the dialogue was fast-paced and superbly witty. Twilight was giggling at the insanity of it all, and applauded loudly when the curtain fell.
As she waited for the crew to set up for the next style, Twilight looked sidelong at Kutengwa, seeing if she’d started up conversation again. But Kutengwa stayed focused on the stage, probably thinking about something. And she’d started the conversation last time, so now it was Twilight’s turn. As it happened, she had just the topic.
Twilight cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you an isolationist?”
Kutengwa smirked humorlessly without looking at Twilight. “Direct, aren’t you?”
“You started it.”
The smirk became a touch more genuine. “I did, didn’t I?” She chuckled, but then the smile vanished. “Zebrabwe looking after Zebrabwe and only Zebrabwe keeps things simple. No little countries asking for favors from us and diverting our time and energy.”
Twilight picked her next words to try and avoid any apparent ego-stroking. “Equestria moves the sun. We probably wouldn’t need Zebrabwe’s help.” Even so, she cringed a little.
At least Kutengwa didn’t seem too offended by that. “And when you decide you want something of ours, we can’t stop you.” Before Twilight could protest, Kutengwa put up a hoof to quiet her. “Yes, you said you can’t use the sun against us. But if your princess decides to just leave it be for a few hours and instead direct that power at us, the world will be fine for those few hours.”
“Equestria would never do that!”
“Of course you’d say that. It might even be true. Now.” Kutengwa looked at Twilight. “But what about decades down the line? Centuries? That can all change, given time.”
“Celestia’s immortal. Or at least ageless.” Honestly, Twilight had never been clear on whether Celestia couldn’t die at all, or simply didn’t age. “She’s a bit resistant to change. Besides, we still know you’re here, whether or not you have an alliance with us.”
“Willful ignorance can work wonders, Princess,” Kutengwa said, waving a hoof at Twilight. “If I hadn’t started talking to you, you wouldn’t be talking to me, and we’re not even ten feet apart. If Zebrabwe doesn’t associate with Equestria, Equestria won’t associate with Zebrabwe. Five thousand miles of ocean is a lot of space to cover.”
And she actually had a small point there, Twilight had to admit. Griffonstone was right next door to Equestria, internationally speaking, and Bygone Griffons of Greatness, her most recent source, had been completely off and woefully outdated simply because the two countries had never paid much attention to each other. But on the other hoof, Twilight and her entourage had come across the ocean just because. Equestria wouldn’t — couldn’t — ignore Zebrabwe now.
Besides, “Technology is advancing quickly,” Twilight responded. “There was a time when fifty miles was a lot of ground to cover. Then it was five hundred, and now it’s five thousand. It won’t be long before it’s fifty thousand.”
Kutengwa looked sullen, but slowly nodded. When she continued, though, she didn’t keep following that line of thought. “And if you do want something from us, you might try to get it yourself, and you don’t know Zebrabwe all that well, so you’d need us to get it for you, or screw it all up if you did it yourselves. It’s like…” She tapped her forehead a few times. “You saw the representatives from Imayini Yamalahle, right?”
“The abadas? Yeah.”
“Right. The abadas. Except for Okubi, but…” Kutengwa shrugged. “Point is, Imayini is not based in Zebrabwe. And just a few years ago, its abada executive, I can’t remember her name, tried for some mine way out west based on a gut feeling, and came up with nothing.” She eyed Twilight seriously. “That’s not an exaggeration. The entire mine was a bust. And the operation was so big, it nearly bankrupted the company.”
“Really?” That would explain why Mhate was so stressed about the meeting. It was literally the company on the line. And it seemed kind of disingenuous for Mtendaji to not mention her little screwup. “That’s gotta be disappointing.”
“To put it mildly. You’ve probably heard that they’re going for another mine near Kulikulu, and I almost didn’t let them do it, because of the failure of the last one. Didn’t really have a lot of trust in them anymore.”
The gears in Twilight’s mind skipped a few teeth. Last night, that hadn’t been what Mtendaji said. She’d said Kutengwa had opposed them on isolationist grounds, but if Kutengwa was telling the truth, that wasn’t anywhere the case. And Mtendaji could hardly be mistaken about that, right? It was the sort of thing Kutengwa would bring up in talks. Why should we give you land to work with? You gave us ABSOLUTELY NOTHING the last time we did that! But why would Mtendaji lie?
“But then Okubi showed me some actual geological reports,” continued Kutengwa, unaware, “and it looked promising and was backed by hard science, so I let it happen.”
“You didn’t oppose them because they’re not a Zebrabwean company?” Twilight asked, her voice a little low. She needed to be certain. She needed to be completely certain that she wasn’t following the wrong path here.
“No,” Kutengwa snorted. “Granted, I don’t like having them here because they’re foreigners, but they’re in too deep for me to dig them out. Trying to get them out of here on those grounds won’t get me anywhere, so I might as well support them when they do get us what we want. And, well…” She shrugged. “They get us a lot of coal. We use a lot of electricity, we need a lot of coal.”
Mtendaji had lied. That was the best explanation for Twilight. And even then, it wasn’t all that good an explanation. Why? She didn’t know Twilight at all when she’d done that. And if that had been a lie, what about the rest of her behavior? Was that all fake, too? Was-
Twilight shook her head. She’d think about that later; right now, she should just enjoy the play.
The curtain rose on the play, and three things happened, not quite simultaneously.
Stormwalker grabbed Twilight’s mane in her mouth and yanked her head to one side. It was fast enough that Twilight barely even registered what had happened when she found herself hanging over the side of the chair.
Twilight’s shield vanished. It didn’t break, it didn’t shatter, it wasn’t overpowered, it just slipped away and was gone like water down a drain.
Something long and straight sailed across the box and nicked Twilight’s cheek enough to draw blood. Had Stormwalker not pulled her aside, it would’ve been a clean headshot.
“We’re leaving,” Stormwalker hissed. “Now.”
And for once, Twilight absolutely agreed with her. She rolled out of the chair and stayed low, below the railing; she couldn’t let the shooter get another clear shot. Her body was buzzing with shock. Kutengwa was already getting hustled out by her own guards.
“Did you see anything?” Twilight whispered as she crawled towards the exit.
“Just the arrow,” Stormwalker responded. She was at the railing, poking her head above it for less than a second at a time and moving around. “Not where it came from and not who shot it.” Still staying low, she darted over to the other side of the box, yanked the arrow out from where it’d gotten stuck in the wall, and tucked it beneath a wing. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
Askari, having seen Kutengwa escorted out, was jumping from hoof to hoof in anxiety, but staying put. Before she could say anything, Stormwalker said, “Someone almost shot Princess Twilight. She’s okay, but we need to get her out of here ASAP.”
Askari nodded. “Kueleweka. Mpango A?”
“Plan A,” said Stormwalker.
“Wait a minute,” said Twilight. Askari had been talking in Zebran, but Stormwalker had apparently still understood her. Had something gone wrong with her translation spell? “Askari, can you say that again?”
Askari looked at Twilight in confusion. “Uh, nini? Je, unaweza kusema kwamba tena?”
Something was wrong with the translation spell. That much was obvious. But how? Was there something in the arrow?
Twilight’s thoughts were interrupted by Stormwalker. “Your Highness, we need to get you out of here now. Can you teleport you and me back to the embassy? Askari will find the others.”
“Uh, yeah,” said Twilight, still distracted by the translation issues. “I can do that.” Her horn started glowing as she pulled magic into herself. But then a spark, almost like a shock from static electricity, ran down her horn and her magic dispersed into the air before she could do anything.
Not good. Twilight tried again. Same result. She tried a different form of magic, and the same thing happened.
“Or… maybe not,” she muttered. “I can’t use magic.”
Stormwalker blanched. “None? At all?”
“Well, I don’t-” Idea. Twilight quickly flapped a few times, trying to take to the air. No luck; somehow, she felt much heavier than normal, and her wings just blew the air around. “No. No magic at all.”
Twilight’s words were level enough, but they were concealing her thoughts: this was really, really bad. She didn’t know if the effect was permanent or not, whether it was just her magic that was affected or if there was some biological effect as well, or anything else. That wasn’t even getting into her attempted killers still being out there. How did they know she’d be here? What if they were still here and tried to catch her on the way out? What if there was another group trying to go after Spike and Livingstone? Wh-
Calm down, she told herself. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Count to four, inhale. Count to four, exhale. She breathed in. She breathed out. She breathed in. She breathed out. Her nerves calmed. Slightly.
“Um, okay, that’s not good,” muttered Stormwalker.
“Unasema nini?” asked Askari. She looked back and forth between Twilight and Stormwalker as she flicked her tail back and forth. “Ni nini kinaendelea? Sielewi wewe.”
“Long story short, plan D,” said Stormwalker. “I’ll explain later.”
“Mpango D?” gasped Askari. She snorted. “Kubwa.” She clicked her tongue and set off down the hall at a brisk trot. Twilight followed her, and Stormwalker took up the rear.
As they trotted, Twilight tried to focus on the tingling in her body. It felt concentrated in her horn, wings, and hooves; probably a side effect of whatever was blocking her magic. She tried to use magic one more time, but this time, she paid attention to what exactly was happening to it. It didn’t feel like it was being blocked; it felt more like it was simply being redirected before she could shape it. She poked her horn. The tingling briefly increased a tiny bit, in both her horn and her hoof. She might be able to figure out what was going on if she had magic, but, well.
Her train of thought suddenly jumped to another track. “Spike,” she said to Askari. “If they’re trying to get to me, they’re probably going after Spike and Livingstone, too.”
“Sizungumzi… Sizungumzi Kipony!” snapped Askari. “Sielewi wewe!”
Luckily, Stormwalker had heard her. “We know. We’re going to find them. That was in the plan from the beginning. And they stand out in a crowd, we’ll find them easily.”
“Okay, good.” Twilight’s voice was calm, but her heart was racing, and not from the trotting.
They made it to the lobby with no resistance. It was empty, but now that she was thinking about Spike, it did little to calm her nerves. Please be safe, Spike. Please be safe.
Cumulus looked over his shoulder again. “Same distance. They’re gathering a little, so they might be trying something soon, but Mtetezi’s right behind them. Keep moving this way.”
Spike and Livingstone had gone to a comics stand without incident. After Spike had picked up a certain few issues with a very angular art style and a good writer (according to Livingstone, anyway; “You would not believe the plots she can create!”), Cumulus had started subtly herding them towards one of the exits to the marketplace, just in case. The initial shock gone and no moves yet made, Spike was feeling a touch better about the situation — he was a dragon, after all — but the idea that someone would try to kill him was gnawing at him.
But he was still out in a marketplace, surrounded by things to buy. He’d make the most of it. Good thing, too, because he spotted- “Hey. Livingstone. Is that a jeweler’s cart?”
“I…” Livingstone squinted through the crowd and smiled. “I think it is, yes. Do you want to visit it?”
“Sure. I appreciate gems.”
“You eat them.”
“Like I said. I appreciate them.”
Livingstone laughed. “Close enough. Come.” She took a step forward, but then stopped and took a look at Cumulus. “That is… if-”
“You don’t need my permission,” said Cumulus. “We’re-” He stood a few inches taller and angled one of his ears backward. After a moment, he nodded. “We’re doing fine.”
Spike and Livingstone looked at each other. Spike shrugged. “Well, then, let’s go.”
The zebra behind the cart was one of the “I’ll ignore anything if you have money” ones. She didn’t bat an eye at Spike or either pony. Instead, she grinned enough to split her face in half and said in a big voice, “Hello, hello, little lizard and stripeless zebra, and welcome to Johari’s Gem Emporium! How-”
“I’m a dragon and she’s a pony,” said Spike, pointing at Livingstone. “So’s he, for that matter-” He pointed over his shoulder at Cumulus. “-but he’s not buying.”
The shopkeeper — Johari — didn’t miss a beat. “Apologies, sir and ma’am, but we don’t see much of your kind around here. Anyway…” She clapped her front hooves together and rubbed them. “What can I do you for? Looking for anything in particular? Earrings? Leg rings? Unset jewels? Necklaces? Med-”
“I was actually looking at the gems.”
“Splendid, splendid!” Johari set a display case on the counter, showing gems of all sizes and styles. Sweeping a hoof across them, she said, “And this, my good dragon, is but a sample. If you are looking for something more specific, just say the word.”
But Spike was speechless for the moment. The collection wasn’t the biggest he’d seen, but for its size, the variety was staggering. There were tiny amethysts and opals, spinels the size of his fist, moonstones several claw-widths across, and many more. He was entranced by the sparkles for several moments before an odd khaki gem maybe a few inches tall caught his eye. He’d never seen anything like it in Equestria before. “What kind of gem’s that?”
“Hibonite!” said Johari. “Very rare. Only comes from the island of Madagasikitro in the Western Ocean.” She smiled. “But I know the right people, and my supply’s better than most. I can offer you that for the low, low price of two hundred lijamu!”
Spike knew enough to know that he was expected to haggle it down, but he didn’t know the actual price of hibonite, nor how much lijamu were worth compared to bits. The idea of trying an all-new kind of gem, though…
Luckily, Livingstone was nearby to save his haycon. “One hundred lijamu,” she countered. To Spike, she whispered, “But she’s truthful about everything but the price, yes. Hibonite is quite rare.”
Johari acted as if she’d been slapped. “Oh! I am giving you an excellent deal already, I cannot go that low! One seventy-five.”
“One seventy-five?!” bellowed Livingstone. “My mother’s entire collection wasn’t worth one seventy-five, no. One twenty-five.”
“One fifty,” responded Johari. She might’ve looked despondent if she hadn’t kept up her grin. “I can’t go any lower, not wi-”
“One fifty,” said Livingstone.
“One fifty it is!” Johari said happily. She popped the hibonite out of the case and slid it towards Spike.
As Livingstone paid with the credit token, Spike examined the hibonite. It might’ve been brown, but it was a very pretty brown, surprisingly lustrous. He bit of a corner. It was tangy and sweet, almost fruity, with an oh-so-slightly bitter aftertaste. He liked it, and quickly bit off a larger chunk. The aftertaste was a bit stronger, but not overwhelming. He’d polished it off in seconds.
He realized Livingstone and Johari were both looking at him. Livingstone was halfway between petrified and amused, while Johari had completely frozen, her smile etched onto her face with a chisel and one (just one) of her pupils shrunk to a pinprick. But, ever the professional, Johari quickly started up again. “Well, that’s new!” she said with a laugh. “And if you prefer quantity over quality, I have…” She ducked beneath the counter and popped up with a small sack between her teeth. “…viff!” She dropped it on the counter in front of Spike.
Spike opened up the sack and whistled. The gems inside weren’t the greatest, but the variety was just as good as Johari’s showcase. They were small, maybe the size of his claw, but there were enough of them for a good-sized snack. Several, in fact. It was tempting. Oh, so tempting.
“I keep those for apprentices,” continued Johari. “They’re low-quality, but it’s easier to learn to set with a bad gem than a perfect one; you lose less if you screw up. Even better, because they’re low-quality, they’re much cheaper, so you have plenty of opportunities to try setting them. Or, in your case, have a quick snack, I suppose.” She smiled. “Twenty lijamu. For the whole sack.”
Livingstone looked at Spike, who frowned. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “They look nice, but it’s taste that matters. And, yes, how good of a gem it is does change how it tastes.”
Johari almost frowned. “You know what? I’ve got plenty. Take a few for a free sample, then see if you like them.”
Free food. Perfect. One of the things Spike had learned that hadn’t come from Twilight was that you never, ever, ever turn down free food. He picked a few gems out of the sack at random and munched them down. Quite delicious, given how many of them there were. The best he’d ever had? No. Not even close. But they were good, they were many, and they were small enough to snack on. “I’ll take it.”
“Splendid! Pleasure doing business with you.”
After they’d paid Johari and left the stand behind, Livingstone looked down at Spike. “So… what do gems taste like? Fruit? Something else?”
Spike wiggled a claw and popped a ruby into his mouth. “Kinda, not really,” he said between chews. “It’s hard to describe, bu-”
Cumulus dive-tackled him away a second before a morning star slammed into the ground where he’d been standing hard enough to break the cobblestones.
The two bounced across the ground in a tangle, knocking over several zebras, Spike’s gems flying everywhere, before the sheer density of the crowd stopped them. A sudden hush fell over the crowd. “SorrybutIdidn’tseehimcoming!” yelled Cumulus. He extricated himself from around Spike and jumped away.
Spike blinked, tried to orient himself. The scene seemed frozen in time. He saw a zebra, dressed all in black complete with a face-concealing hood, bringing up a morning star attached to one of his front hooves by a chain. The crowd was shying away from the scene, some already running and yelling. Cumulus was launching himself at the zebra, wings swept back. Livingstone was paused mid-stride, shock scribed all across her face.
The scene unfroze.
Cumulus hit the zebra before the morning star hit him. As they tumbled away, another assassin broke out of the crowd and charged Spike, only to be brought up short as Mtetezi leapt out of the crowd and bit down on his tail. Spike only managed to get brief glimpses of their respective brawls, but between Cumulus delivering a wing-powered suplex to his opponent and Mtetezi elbow-dropping hers right in the stomach, it looked like they had things under control.
And just as his bodyguards were at their most occupied, another assassin exited the crowd. Twirling her own morning star, her gaze snapped to Spike and she charged.
This is just not my day.
Spike doubted the morning star could actually kill him, but he didn’t want to find out, and even if it couldn’t, getting smashed on the head would still hurt like nothing else. He knew that from experience. Instinct told him to run, but he stayed where he was, trying to look like he was paralyzed with fear and not thinking. Granted, it wasn’t completely an act. But ninety-five percent thinking was still plenty of thinking.
The assassin swung her morning star. Right when it was at the top of the swing, Spike jumped back. The flail slammed into the ground inches from his face. Before the zebra could pull it out, Spike scrambled around to the chain and chomped down. His jaws, literally used to eating gems for dinner, only needed a single bite to sever the connection between morning star and wielder.
The zebra yanked back and twirled her broken length of chain menacingly before she realized she was twirling a broken length of chain instead of a vicious spiked flail, which was considerably less menacing. She turned to stare at the end of the chain in astonishment.
Spike seized on the opportunity and hacked a small fireball in her direction. Nothing fatal or all that harmful; just something to make her back off for a few seconds. The fireball poofed at the zebra’s hooves; she yelped and recoiled, batting at the air. But when the smoke cleared, the assassin’s outfit wasn’t even singed.
Practically speaking, making something fully dragonfireproof was impossible. It was just too hot. But while Spike’s little puff hadn’t been anywhere near his full capacity, it should’ve ignited a few spots on the zebra’s clothes. But the outfit was untouched. The clothes were fire-resistant.
They knew he could breathe fire.
But before Spike could process this fact, the zebra regained her footing. She looked like she was going to try to charge him, but before she could, she was jumped from behind by another zebra. Not Mtetezi; this one had a uniform of some kind. A cop.
As the cop wrestled the would-be assassin to the ground, several more cops scrambled out of the crowd. Spike breathed a sigh of relief when most of them went to assist Cumulus and Mtetezi, only to suck it back in when the remainder of them started pointing spears at him and Livingstone (who was still paused mid-stride). He shuffled between Livingstone and the spears and promptly put his claws in the air. Thick scales or not, a spear inches from your snout was not a pleasant thing to be looking down. “Um, hey,” he said in a high-pitched voice, “look, I-”
Then Mtetezi had batted the spears aside and was between him and the cops, waving her hooves. “Whoa, whoa, hey! They’re with me! They’re with me!” she yelled. “They’re ambassadors! I’m GRBS!” She ducked her head into a pocket and pulled out a small badge. Spike couldn’t see it, but it made quite the impression on the cops; all of them took a small step back, and at least they stopped pointing weapons at Spike and the ponies.
The one who looked to be leading them quickly examined the badge, then coughed. “Apologies, sirs and ma’ams.” She looked at Spike again and muttered to herself, “Right, how could I miss…?” She coughed again and shook her head. A hint of urgency had crept into her voice when she spoke again. “Ma’am, you should get them out of here. My zebras can take things from here.”
“Good,” said Mtetezi. She turned to Spike. “We’re going to the theatre and getting your princess. Now.”
“I second the motion,” said Livingstone. “Come on.” Before Spike could respond, she’d deposited him on her back and was racing out of the marketplace. Cumulus and Mtetezi quickly followed.
Spike’s mind was still reeling as he clung to Livingstone’s mane. He and Livingstone were fine, yes, but they’d just been attacked in broad daylight in the middle of a public space. It was a lot to take in. What if those hadn’t been the only assassins around? What if another group tried to attack them? What if they tried going after Twilight? But he couldn’t do anything about it.
At the moment, all he could do was hope Twilight was okay and hold tight.
Twilight bolted out of the theatre and onto the street. “Spike!” she yelled. “Spi-”
Right on cue, Livingstone slid around a corner, Spike on her back, Cumulus and Mtetezi close behind. She stopped in front of Twilight, breathing heavily. “We…” she gasped. “We were…”
“Someone just tried to kill me!” Twilight and Spike said in unison.
They blinked. “You?” Spike and Twilight gasped. “Someone just tried to kill me!”
Their jaws dropped. “You, too?” Twilight and Spike said. “Oh, this is bad… This is so, so bad…”
They both caught their breath for a few moments. Then Spike began yelling. “Livingstone and I were going to get some co-”
“Talk later!” snapped Stormwalker. “We’re getting back to the palace now.” She checked under one wing to be sure she still had the arrow. “Come on. Askari and I will take point. Cumulus, Mtetezi, you two take the rear.” She set off down the street at a brisk trot.
As the rest of the group followed, Twilight asked, “Are you both okay?”
“Yes,” panted Livingstone. “They… they came-”
“Tell me later. Right now, the only thing that’s important to me is that you’re both fine.”
“We’re fine,” said Spike.
“Good.”
Back in the embassy, Askari turned the bolt over on the table. «I’m no detective,» she said, «but my inexperienced self is thinking this is for a pretty high-powered crossbow. Tripod-mounted. Look.» She pointed. «Metal shaft. I think it’d need that to withstand higher bow speeds. But don’t quote me on that.»
Or at least, that was how Cumulus translated it. Twilight’s magic still hadn’t completely come back. She was able to gather more magic than she had before, but only enough to cast a few sparks or levitate a quill. She’d probably be back to normal the next day, but at the moment, she couldn’t re-cast the translation spell on herself. The spells on everyone else were still working fine, though, so Cumulus had volunteered to be a relay for Twilight. (It was really weird hearing him “translate” simply by repeating Twilight’s words.) This conversation was too complex for Twilight’s limited Zebran.
«Of course, bows aren’t used much anymore, not with cartridges making arquebuses easier to use,» muttered Askari, almost to herself, «but crossbows are silent, and a good bow can still shoot through ordinary glass with enough force to kill on the other side.»
“But what about my magic?” asked Twilight. She was sitting on a chair, waiting as Livingstone gave her an amateur, impromptu medical checkup, just in case the bolt had some biological effects, too. She hadn’t said anything, so Twilight assumed her physicality was okay, especially since her cut, small as it was, had stopped bleeding before they’d reached the palace. “What happened with that?” It was mind-bogglingly annoying to not know something like this with magic. Even worse, by the time her magic was back so she could study it better, the effect would be gone.
Askari looked miffed. «Your Highness,» she said, «I have no idea how magic works. I’ve never met an abada in anything other than a professional context, never seen them do anything. My first experience with magic was your translation spell-» (It was actually Uvivi’s, Twilight thought.) «-and I didn’t know that was magic until it wasn’t working anymore.»
“What about the whosits, the abadas?” asked Spike. He was lying on a couch, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought but still listening intently. “They’ve got magic. Wouldn’t they have something like this?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think Uvivi would like this sort of thing, no,” muttered Livingstone. She stroked one of Twilight’s wings, looking for either discoloration of some kind or some inexplicable molting. “She’d-”
«Uvivi isn’t the only abada here,» said Askari. «There are plenty of others, not even necessarily from Imayini.» She looked down at the bolt and frowned. «But the involvement of abadas would explain a lot. We zebras might have some kind of venom that could go on the arrowhead to counter abada magic, but a simple enchantment on the bolt could do the same thing, and probably with less work.» She clicked her tongue a few times. «I’m going to hand this over to the detectives investigating your poisoning, if that’s okay with you.»
“I was just going to say the same thing,” Twilight said. “They might not be related, but you’d have to work pretty hard to get me to believe they weren’t.”
«Good. I’ll be back soon.» Askari bowed infinitesimally and left the embassy, arrow in mouth.
As she exited the embassy, Stormwalker entered. She and Mtetezi had been standing guard at the entrance. “Your Highness,” she said, “Mtetezi and I have been talking, and it’s probably best if we-”
“Do it,” muttered Twilight. She rubbed the scab on her cheek. “I don’t care what it is, do it.” The two of them would know best. They were her bodyguards for a reason, after all.
Stormwalker blinked, then bowed slightly. “Very well. We’ll have one guard up at all hours tonight to keep you, Spike, and Livingstone safe.” She left to rejoin Mtetezi.
Livingstone rubbed Twilight’s ribs. Twilight sucked in a breath and recoiled slightly in surprise. “Sorry, sorry,” said Livingstone, jumping back. “I just wanted to see if, if they were still in place or… or something. I don’t know.” She rubbed her neck, blushed, and looked away.
“They all feel normal, if that’s what you’re looking for,” said Twilight. Still, she couldn’t help herself running a hoof along her ribcage. It felt fine. “I think the arrow only affected my magic.” She had to stop herself from testing her limits again; she’d only last done it a few minutes ago, and there probably wouldn’t be much change.
Spike pushed himself up into a sitting position. “So how come you can’t fly now? If your magic was the only thing it hurt, then shouldn’t-”
“Pegasi use their own form of magic to fly, Spike,” sighed Twilight. “Look at these wings.” She spread one of them. It still tingled, but the tingling was a lot less than it had been. “They’re way too small compared to me. You really think I can fly with just them?”
“Kinda…” Spike mumbled.
Twilight didn’t notice and folded her wing back up. “I think it was more an unintentional side effect than anything else. They were going after unicorn magic and just happened to get pegasus magic, too.” She looked down at her still tingling hooves and kneaded the carpet beneath them. “And probably earth pony magic, too, but I haven’t checked that yet. That’s why the translation spell isn’t working, either: its magic got disrupted somehow.”
“But you still feel okay, right?”
“Physically, yeah.” Twilight kept thinking as she stared at her hooves. After two attempts on her life in two days… “Livingstone, you’re sure Applejack and Zecora will be here by tomorrow evening?”
“They ought to be, yes,” said Livingstone. “If not then, early the next morning. Why?”
“I’m scared for them.” Twilight started pacing, her eyes still on the ground. “I don’t know where they are, I don’t know what state they’re in, I don’t know anything. Honestly, if those plains we crossed weren’t so big, I’d probably go out there and look for them myself, just to be sure.”
“…If it, um, if it makes you feel any better,” said Livingstone, “I can tell you where they’ll be tomorrow. Whenever she comes to Kulikulu, Idube always stops at the same bar before coming into the city proper.”
Twilight stopped pacing. Her ears went up and she raised her head. “Really?” The shades of a smile were on her face.
“Yes. I think a distant relative of hers owns it.” Livingstone chewed her lip and batted at an ear. “It’s close to the borders of Kulikulu, so on the opposite side of the city, but you can fly, you ought to be safe. The, uh, the Bonde Baa. I can show you where it is on a map if you want, yes.”
“Thanks, but not right now. Tomorrow, maybe.” The weight on Twilight’s heart subsided a little. Even if she couldn’t help Applejack at all, she could at least see her slightly earlier.
“You really think they’re in trouble?” Spike asked. “I mean, Applejack can take down chimeras on her own.”
“I don’t know, Spike. That’s the thing.” Twilight went back to pacing. “She can definitely handle herself, but that’s back in Equestria, and this isn’t Equestria, it’s Zebrabwe, so maybe there’s something out there she can’t handle, and that’s not getting into the fact that the people trying to kill me might be trying to get to her too, and she and the other zebras are in some kind of danger they’re not prepared for, an-”
“Slow down, Twi. Deep breaths.”
Twilight dug her hooves into the carpeting and stopped pacing. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. “Sorry, it’s just… yeah,” she said. “We never should’ve split up. That was such a huge mistake that I don’t even know.”
“Heh. Sorry,” whispered Livingstone.
“And now… I don’t know what to do.” Twilight looked up at the ceiling. It was right before she went out into town all over again, only now, she knew that her would-be assassins were actively looking for her. To avoid them, she’d be stuck in the embassy even more. Blah. She was not looking forward to tomorrow. At least today, she’d gotten through half the day sleeping.
There was something she needed to get done, though. “Let’s get back to the Zebran alphabet.”
“Can I join you? I think I can focus more, now that I’ve got this.” Spike waved the zebran comic he’d picked up. “The art’s good, and I wanna read it.”
Twilight smiled. “Sure, Spike. Sure.”
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Missing words.
I am increasingly confused as to what the motivation is for the villain's actions. Why would you trap a single explorer in a coastal town for years and years, but leave her alive for any reason, especially when she lives right on the edge of a jungle known to regularly claim lives? Why attempt to assassinate representatives of Equestria, especially after they've just demonstrated godlike power and instantaneous communication with significantly more powerful beings? Why the hell would a coal company see a kingdom five thousand miles of ocean away from them as a significant business rival? What does a king gain by trying to assassinate visiting dignitaries? What part of isolationism includes being stupid? What the heck kind of religion would prompt such fanaticism but not get so much as a mention?
At this point, the only character in this entire story who gains from all, or indeed any of this political tomfoolery is Celestia, if it turns out she's been arranging events from the shadows to allow her to declare war on Gondwana.
And once again, ALICORN magic is being overpowered. That's getting to be a theme this season...
7433127
Yeah this was a pretty lame turn of events. I can buy some sort of anti-magic poison or whatever, but having an arrow coated with the stuff dispel a magical shield cast by an alicorn so fast it doesn't even change velocity or course was just silly, as was a single nick causing an eyeblink-immediate 150% shutdown of all Twilight's magic. It's starting to feel a little bit silly at this point, the villains might as well be your supercompetent black and red alicorn OC equivalents, with the main characters becoming predictably useless in such scenarios. This chapter seriously dampened my enthusiasm for the story
The villain's are getting a bit op...
No argument here.
So, she basically needs magic to detect what is blocking her magic, but once she has magic, whatever has blocked her magic will be gone.
She can't win...
I also liked your ideas about Johari the gem trader.
Looking good.
Good chapter!
Some of the other readers mentioned they think the villians in this story are a bit overpowered.
While I respect these opionions (they are opinions, after all) I disagree.
Twilight is an alicorn, but only for a relatively short time, so her powers aren't fully developed yet. (Celestia would have catch the arrow right after it was fired, together with whoever had fired it. I think.)
We don't know who her anymies are, so we can't evaluate their strenght yet.
Long story short:
Keep up the good work (whenever you want and have time).
Can't wait for the next chapter!
I Hope Applejack and companions will be alright...
I hope Applejack and Zecora will be okay.