Octavia's Painting

by Ribe_FireRain

Chapter Five: Answers

Knock-Knock

''Mr. Palette!''

Knock-Knock

''Mr. Palette!''

Octavia called as she banged upon the front door of Colour Palette's residence.

His home residence was fitting with the traditional styling of Ponyville's accommodations, but it was slightly bigger than your typical house. It was a double-storey residence with what looked to be a built-on art studio on the right side of the house.

While she was banging on the front door, Octavia kept glancing wildly at each individual window, hoping that she would see a light turn on or the figure of Colour Palette show up at the glass to see her there. Eventually, after a few minutes of banging hard and shouting, a light turned on upstairs.

In the middle of the yellow glow, the silhouette of a figure came into view, likely just stirred out of bed by the commotion and on his way to see what all the fuss was about. Octavia heard a series of thumps, presumably Colour heading down the stairs, followed by a metallic click and clang as the lock and chain on the inside were being released.

Eventually, the front door creaked open and one of Colour's sleep-dulled eyes peered through the crack to witness the unsettled face of Octavia.

''Octavia?'' He asked, right before he fully opened the door upon seeing the distress on her face, written so clearly that it was akin to a copper etching.

''What's the matter? You look dreadful,'' He said, gradually growing more concerned the longer he took in her features, the sleep forgotten from his eyes.

''Terribly sorry to wake you, Mr. Palette,'' Octavia said as she paced anxiously on the spot, knowing how terrible she must have looked in her state of distress and unease. ''But I know what happened to your uncle and your ancestor,'' She said, to which Colour Palette's eyes brightened, yet they held a sense of uncertainty upon hearing the news.

''Why don't you come in? You can tell me everything if you'd like to,'' He offered, opening his door and allowing the flustered mare to enter his home, which she did with great haste, not wasting a single second. Before closing the front door, Colour stuck his head out and glanced both left and right to make sure that nopony overheard their conversation or saw Octavia enter his home. After deeming it safe, he shut the door.

*** *** ***

Colour Palette's home was very much in the way that Octavia had expected it to be - an artistic, creative mess. Unlike her own living room, while the layout was very similar and the room was slightly bigger, almost double the size of her own.

To the right, there was a couple of wooden tables covered in paint-smudged and splattered tarps, an explosion of colour, while the tops of the tarps had paint pots, wooden palettes, specialised art tools for generating various effects and water tubs and trays. There was a couple of medium-sized tarps protecting the floor, too. They were also splattered with bombardments of colour, some paint brushes resting on top of them with their tips stained with dried up paint, mostly dark colours, such as red, black and grey. The very same type of colours that Stencil preferred the use of.

Also on top of the tables, that caught Octavia's curious gaze, was a number of half-painted and blank canvases that looked to be some kind of landscape. Remembering the first one that Colour had shown to her at his art kiosk the day she took in the haunted painting, she gathered enough to see that they were various landscapes and places that she knew of. Ghastly Gorge, Rock Canyon, Canterlot Gardens, Ponyville Square, the works.

On the left side of his home, opposite to the art studio, there was an old-looking easel next to a couple of half-opened wooden crates, a large paper label secured to the front of them - Stencil Palette's Belongings.

Seeing them there, Octavia could only be lead to assume that the easel was also the very same one that belonged to Stencil. It was a large and cumbersome-looking easel, too. It was made from aged timber and it looked more like a torture device, such as the main body of a guillotine, than an art tool.

The darkened wood appeared to be well-cared for and there was a glimmer reflecting from its body from the electrical light in the middle of the living room, hinting that it still had a coat of protective varnish shielding its wood and preserving it from the elements. If that was the very same one that Stencil used to create The Periled Mare, then Octavia had the dark thought that it was possible that the easel could have a couple of small blood stains against the varnish. It was a terrible thought to think, but it entered her mind out of nowhere, and she immediately felt ashamed for it.

Like in her house, Octavia and Colour Palette were seated in the kitchen area of the house, Octavia sat waiting eagerly while Colour Palette sat motionless in his seat across from her. His face was blank and emotionless, his eyes small as his ear gave the occasional twitch. His blonde mane suddenly became dull and his blue eyes paled, becoming almost as colourless as Stencil's steel eyes.

Octavia noticed his lips move silently as he tried to process what had been told to him in great detail. She had told him absolutely everything that she had learned from the journal, from the murder of Night Watch to the theft of the key to the royal archives and Booster Spell's curse that lead to the demise of Stencil Palette.

The one thing that made Octavia curious was the fate that befell Caravaggio after he had stolen the Booster Spell. Was he ever caught? Did he become an obsessed perfection-driven machine of artistic talent like Stencil Palette? Did he simply take his secret to the grave? So many questions floated back and forth within Octavia's mind.

There were so many possibilities to narrow down and boil it just to one.

Octavia waited eagerly as she awaited Colour's response to her discoveries, and she felt her heart flex and tug within her chest with unease as the minutes progressed in the pregnant pause as the gears turned in his head. From how long it was taking, Octavia thought that he might need some mental oil to get his gears running smoothly enough to speak. Eventually, he found his voice.

''A-A Booster Spell?'' Colour Palette asked, his voice hollow and shallow, lacking energy. ''Caravaggio Palette used a Booster Spell?'' He asked again, blinking and trying to hide his disbelief and shock to no avail. He was positively stunned.

''That's what his journal entries say,'' Octavia said, touching a hoof to the body of the journal, which was resting in front of her on Colour's kitchen table. ''Your uncle even went as far as copying the spell into his journal using his own blood,'' Octavia said with distaste as she pronounced that last word. ''After Caravaggio's journal found its way into your uncle's hooves, it appears that he found the spell himself and decided to use it, and we both know how that ended, sadly enough,'' She said with a hint of regret in her voice.

''B-But that's insane!'' Colour said, throwing up his hooves as he stared at Octavia with wide eyes. ''So, what you're meaning to tell me is that my ancestor, one of Equestria's greatest artists, murdered the keep of the royal archives in order to steal a forbidden Booster Spell containing black magic and then he used said spell to curse his own artwork?'' He asked, and the more he thought about it, the more it irked his brain something fierce.

Colour Palette had to admit that, while he has not actually had the time to delve into the facts laid out in both Caravaggio's and Stencil's journal entries, it sounded very far-fetched. It didn't seem like it was possible or even logical, but as he sat and gazed into the sad, scared eyes of Octavia, scanning deep into her amethyst orbs, he felt himself sink and deflate in his seat. This just could not be true!

''Mr. Palette---''

''Colour would be just fine, Octavia,'' He said, interrupting her and waving a hoof dismissively as he planted his head in his hooves as he rested his elbows on the table. The sunken, depressed expression on his face bit into Octavia's heart.

''Very well,'' She said, starting over. ''Colour, I know it seems very hard to believe, but I've read the journal, and I'm afraid that the facts are all there. Everything fits together. Don't you see?'' She asked, picking up the journal and motioning to it with a hoof. Colour's eyes followed it and looked at her, listening. ''Because of Caravaggio, the Booster Spell that he copied into the journal with his own blood ties him directly to the journal! Stencil Palette must have stumbled upon it and been inflicted by the dark magic that still resides with Caravaggio's blood! It's a curse!'' She said, dropping the book to the table's surface with a bang.

Colour Palette raised his head a little and he gawked at her with uncertainty.

''A curse?'' He asked, dumbfounded. ''You think that's what this is? A curse?''

''Yes!'' Octavia said, stressing the emphasis in her voice by leaning over across the table to the point that she was inches away from making contact with his muzzle. ''The Booster Spell is cursed with black magic and it has tied itself in with your family's name! The only way to break the curse is to get rid of any and all associated objects that have touched both Caravaggio's and Stencil's blood!'' Octavia said, gripping onto Colour's cheeks and giving him a desperate glare. ''You need to destroy it!''

''O-Octavia,'' Colour began. ''Please l-let go,'' He said, pulling himself away. He rubbed his cheeks with his light brown hooves and gave a deep sigh. ''Black magic or not, how do you suppose you can destroy both the journal and the painting? If what you're telling me is true, then I have reason to believe that breaking such a spell will not be an easy task to accomplish,'' He said, looking down at the battered journal.

''There has to be a way,'' Octavia said, persisting against all odds. ''Colour, even if it may seem impossible to you, we have to try to get rid of it!'' She said, leaning over the table again. ''This Booster Spell, this black magic, has been responsible for the deaths of two of your relatives, and you could have been the next one in line for the curse to claim! You even said yourself that you thought that the painting was evil. Is that what you want?'' Octavia asked, now gradually becoming angry, her voice taking on a low growl.

Colour Palette said nothing. He didn't even blink. He actually appeared to be thinking deeply and thoroughly about this.

The journal may have started off as any old journal in the world for a pony to keep their deep and personal thoughts in, but after Caravaggio had introduced it to his blood-tied black magic, he had passed it on to Stencil and then onto himself after his death as an inheritance. The thought that the black magic within the journal could have been after him next put the fear of Celestia into him.

Looking into Octavia's pleading and desperate eyes that were filled with concern and worry for the young stallion moved him. He knew that she could see it. Octavia knew full well that, if Colour had found the Booster Spell himself, it would have likely corrupted his mind like his uncle and brought about nothing but pain and suffering as it pulled him into an art-crazed downfall.

''O-Octavia,'' He began slowly, inhaling deeply before speaking. ''You're right,'' He said. ''You're absolutely right. But what do we do? Do you think it'll be just as easy as lighting the journal on fire?'' He asked, and Octavia rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

''I'm not sure,'' She said, not really giving it that much thought. She didn't think that the Booster Spell contained within the journal held any protective properties, but she assumed that she'd find that out for true sooner or later when it comes down to it. ''I can't understand what the spell says or if it hints at anything we could use to destroy it, so I'm not too sure on the matter,'' She admitted. ''Any ideas?''

''Well, I'm not sure if it'll bring us closer to learning anything about the black magic in the journal,'' Colour began, looking reminiscent as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a few moments before turning back to look at Octavia. ''But there is this one pony I know of in Canterlot that runs this old antique shop full of strange trinkets and supposedly magical and cursed artifacts. He's...strange, but he might know a thing or two about the Booster Spell,'' Colour offered.

''Then that's what we can do,'' Octavia said. ''We could head out to Canterlot on the earliest possible train and pay him a visit with the journal,'' She said. ''But what about the painting? Is it safe to drag that thing along with us?'' She asked, uncertain.

''No,'' Colour shook his head. ''I think we better leave it at your house where it's safe. It is safe, right?'' He asked, noticing the uncomfortable expression on Octavia's face as she shied away slightly in her seat, rubbing her shoulder. ''Octavia? Is there something you're not telling me?'' He asked, and this only made her shy away further.

''The painting is safe, but...'' She trailed off.

''But?'' Colour gently coaxed her, circling a hoof in the air.

''...I saw Stencil Palette again before I came here. He didn't do anything, but he was there. He was watching me,'' Octavia said, turning her head back to face him fully. ''He knows that I know about the Booster Spell's curse. He knows that I want to break the curse,'' She said, recalling the ghostly voice that followed.

''Set me free.''

''You saw my uncle again?'' Colour asked in disbelief. Octavia nodded silently. ''Did he say anything?'' Octavia paused for a moment upon being asked the question, remaining motionless and playing her poker face as she thought upon it.

''No,'' She said. ''He didn't say anything,'' She lied.

''Right, so what do you suppose we do? Wait until morning and then catch the train to Canterlot?'' Colour asked, and Octavia nodded.

''I think that'll be best, Colour.''

*** *** ***

The train journey into Canterlot was a fairly lengthy ride from the small town of Ponyville. Octavia and Colour Palette had seated themselves in one of the many carriages the train pulled along with the engine, finding the most vacant one they possibly could, which put them in the very final carriage at the back of the train.

They were both thankful for the silence during the ride up into the capital. They spoke to each other as they sat at a window seat, directly opposite each other on one of the giant plush cushions. They swapped words on their thoughts about the painting and the journal that had been left behind in Stencil's will.

They talked for the majority of the duration the train took to arrive into the city of Canterlot, and although it wasn't longer than a little over an hour, as they were lost in their conversation, it seemed to take a few hours to pass.

Octavia had started to take a bit of a liking towards Colour Palette. Most of the time, Vinyl Scratch's boisterous attitude and loud antics would drive a potential new friend away from Octavia and spoil her chances, so it was nice to be able to have a civil conversation with an intellectual such as herself.

Octavia had learned that Colour had discovered his talent for the very first time during his younger years as a school colt. He had always displayed an aptitude for artistry and painting. He had even decided to try and bring a smile to Octavia's face by indulging her in a personal anecdote about what he did the day of a painting contest.

''And so this other colt, Loopy Lace, had decided to steal the painting set my parents had bought me for my birthday,'' He began, already snickering as he was building up to the best part. ''And he thought I wouldn't notice. Of course, I did, seeing as my wooden box with my paints in it had my name stamped onto a metal plaque that was on the lid, so I took them back and I found another wooden box. I put it back where he had put it and I made a small paint bomb and hid it inside. When he opened it, he was definitely surprised!'' He finished his tale, howling with laughter at the joy the memory brought back.

Octavia had found herself to be lost in the humour of the moment and was holding her sides as he wrapped up the story. She wiped away a tear from her eye and felt her laughter die down before she smiled and said,

''That's quite a story, Colour,'' She said, chuckling a little. ''I've got to say, you pulled a pretty decent prank! With my housemate, Vinyl, I hardly ever get a break from her attempts at humour,'' She said, to which Colour became curious.

''Oh, you've got a housemate?'' He asked with great interest. ''Vinyl, eh? What's her idea of a prank, then?'' Octavia flushed for a moment and then gave a playful wave of a hoof and a roll of her eyes.

''Oh, you know, the usual - a whoopie cushion here, a water bucket there, replacing my performance bow tie with a motorised bow tie when I have a concert to perform...'' She listed the various pranks she had unwittingly taken part in. ''And then there was this one time that she made me a daffodil sandwich and loaded it full of hot sauce,'' She said, and the laughter came immediately from Colour.

''That's hilarious!'' He said, tears forming in his eyes. ''Well, this Vinyl sounds like quite the character! You'll have to introduce us sometime, Octavia. I'm sure she's very fun to be around.''

''You don't know the half of it,'' Octavia said, rolling her eyes again as she thought about Vinyl Scratch.

She would be home soon. The month was almost up and she was likely going to enter the house with a bang like she always does. First there's a knock and then there's a bang, which was usually her bass cannon blasting off the front door before she comes riding in on her portable turntables. It may have been fun for Vinyl, but it certainly wasn't for Octavia. Regardless, she didn't know what she would do without that reckless mare. She helped to keep her balanced, and opposites sometimes make the best of friends.

Once the train had pulled into the station at Canterlot, everypony on board the train had dispatched themselves onto the platform, scrambling every which way to head to wherever they were headed.

Octavia stuck close to Colour. He was also a Canterlotian, and, like Octavia, had left for Ponyville because he found the lifestyle of the hoity-toity, pish-posh ponies that live here tiring and intolerable. He had even proclaimed that they frustrated him and even went as far as getting on his nerves.

tubing, flasks, bottles, beakers and test tubes and alchemy tools. Clearly, it had seen better days. It was no better than the swap-meet in terms of ''Everypony's a critic,'' He had said, his tone eerily similar to Stencil's as he spoke the words on the train to Octavia. It gave her chills.

They remained close as they entered the streets of the big city. It was very similar to the streets of Manehatten in the sense that there was no shortage of pony activity. It was hard to move without being rammed into, scraped upon or shoved against by one of the local residents.

If they did, they would always turn up their nose and mutter the same thing under their breaths - ''Tourists.''

It was so typical of Canterlotian behaviour to look down upon out-of-towners that wandered into their territory, their domain, their land. Into the den of the wolves, in with the crowd. It was something that always sickened Octavia.

She may have been one of them, but she didn't care much for their way of life. Luxuries, parties and money was all anypony cared for within the walls of Canterlot, and those that didn't indulge themselves in such a lifestyle or those who didn't come from a wealthy background were not welcome or even seen as worthy of entering through the gate. If they had things their way, then it would surely be a different story.

''Snobs, the lot of them,'' Colour had whispered into Octavia's ear as he lead her along one of the streets in the middle of the city. Colour more than shared her opinions on the matter, and for that, she was glad.

''Agreed,'' She said back, giving a small chuckle afterwards.

On his back, Colour Palette had brought along his green saddlebags to conceal the journal. The last thing that he wanted was for anypony's eager and curious eyes to wander where they were not wanted. That was the other thing about Canterlotians: they stuck their noses where it was not wanted or fit to sniff.

Colour had explained to Octavia earlier about the pony that ran the antique shop, and he was also a bit of a brainiac when it came to deciphering cryptic messages and Old Ponish, and so, he was the best hope they had for figuring out a way of destroying the binding of the Booster Spell.

Colour Palette had lead Octavia to one of the backstreets of Canterlot's downtown area. It was comprised of a bundle of smaller, less-occupied shops that sold odds and ends, nicks and nacks. This kind of ancient dust was not a desired market for the rich snobs in the higher stands, so they left this area alone to its own devices.

It was basically a small, tucked-away pocket in the derelict section of the big city, untouched and left very alone. The brickwork and elegantly-chiseled masonry work around the area had been left to corrode and get eaten away by the elements, the once-brilliant white marble statues and columns now an off-white colour, almost creamed, by the ultra violet rays from the sun.

Octavia had seen these shops before, but she never once dared herself to set hoof in this part of town. She had heard that it was a bit dangerous to hang around this area all alone, especially with being a mare, as per word of her mother. A so-called 'bit of streetwise information' that Octavia had been given to take on board for future endeavours.

Today, she was to break her promise to her mother. She was a big girl now.

Octavia glanced around at some of the shops as she inspected them.

To her left, right on the very end of the row, was a shop named, 'Odd's and End's Daily Traders', which appeared to be some type of swap-meet shop for both old and new junk. The sign was flaking and peeling with faded indigo paint that bordered the white lettering that spelled out the name to the shop. The windows were also dirty and yellowed from years' worth of neglect.

Next to the swap-meet, there was a small potions and chemistry shop filled with old chemistry sets, Bunsen burners, chemical, experimental glass state of repair.

It had the same layout, but the sign hung out into the street, an old-fashioned neon sign with cracked and chipped glass with long-gone working electricity. The sign was now completely shot and the wiring was likely to have corroded on the inside. Octavia could still tell that the sign depicted of a unicorn pouring a beaker over an open flame on a Bunsen burner, of which there was a series of angled neon tubing to simulate a chemical explosion.

Octavia could imagine in her mind the magenta-coloured chemical solution being poured from the experimental beaker onto the light blue safety flame before erupting into a bright green colour in a puff of thick, cloudy smoke. Very picturesque, and it brought back some memories of working on an experiment in the school lab for Octavia. Reading the sign, despite some of the neon light glass being missing, Octavia saw that the saw once read out as, 'The Alchemist's Lair'.

Following Colour Palette, Octavia saw that they were both headed towards the shop that they had come to Canterlot for to gain some insight on their little Booster Spell.

Like the other shops, it followed similar designs and layout patterns, but it appeared to be much, much older and very rickety. It looked as if it had been standing here for well over a century, maybe longer.

It was made out of a weather-worn, splintered dark wood on the outside, so dark and so dry-looking that it looked sun-baked and fragile to the point that, if a butterfly had landed on it, the added weight would crack it and destroy it, crumble it to dust and finish the job age had started.

The window panes were old-fashioned and thin, but they were surprisingly clean and looked through to a small display area in the shop. It mostly viewed into a small platform crammed full of antique books, trinkets, candle holders and cast iron pots used for mixing potions and cooking, but that was about all there as to see. There was likely to be much more on the inside.

Strangely, there as no sign hung out on the front of the shop. There was only a small space where a sign was meant to be hung, but no actual sign was in place. To the naked eye, one might suggest that the place was abandoned and completely unoccupied, but Colour Palette suggested otherwise. Somepony was definitely in there, and the switched-on light on the inside, presumably oil-powered, given the age of the building, was a clear indication that it was inhabited.

Entering the shop, Colour holding the door for Octavia, whom entered slowly and unsurely, Octavia followed him to the back of the shop where there was a counter set up.

It wasn't very big on the inside, and, as Octavia suspected, it was completely crammed with old junk, antiques and collectibles. It really was quite astounding as to how so much junk could fit into such little of a space.

Pots, pans, old furniture, moth-eaten tarps and tapestries, Old World flags and old leather saddlesbags that were so dry they were cracked littered the shop's showroom floor. Tall, towering mahogany cabinets and desks and drawers leaned and supported themselves against the walls of the shop, empty and waiting for the right owner to come by to discover them. Unfortunately, it looked like that day was not due until the end of the universe arrived.

At the counter, Octavia came to stand beside Colour as she observed the cashier's desk. Behind it, there was a line of three shelves stacked in a column and stocked up with small, valuable-looking items. It mostly consisted of display pieces and antique jewels and magical potions in small vials full of colourful, fizzing liquid. Octavia recognised one of them as Liquid Luck - a blue-coloured substance that was said to make the drinker become incredibly successful in any task or feat, prevailing against all odds.

Another one, a first edition copy of A Heart in Your Hoof, a notorious and famous novel by a long-forgotten great in the world of literature - Merry Rosingberry.

The reason that Octavia knew that the book was a first edition was the binding on the book as it was displayed on its golden stand on the middle of the first shelf behind the counter. It was a dark brown leather with a blackened front cover, and the leather was not your typical leather from the hide of a cow. Instead, it was bound up in dragon leather, which was much thicker and stronger, almost invulnerable against most forms of damage.

The blackened front cover had a golden print hoof with a fire ruby heart held in its grasp, the title of the book underneath it while the author's name was written on the top. The second editions were brown leather-backed and the third editions and all other editions after that were green faux leather-backed.

Well, that wasn't the only reason. She had also been gifted the book when she was a little girl from her parents for her eighth birthday, a first edition.

She fell in love with the story ever since. It was an enchanting tale of two lovers across the social divide coming together and proclaiming their love for each other. They ran off to start their new life as a married couple, proving to their judgmental, displeased and unsupportive families that it doesn't matter if a pony is rich or poor: they were still ponies that live, bleed, cry, feel, laugh and love.

Recovering from her trip down memory lane, Octavia watched and waited as Colour banged against an old brass service bell a couple of times, the metallic ding! resounding within the acoustics of the small shop.

Shortly afterwards, a middle-aged stallion came out from the back of the shop, off where Octavia presumed there was a small sitting room or personal workstation, a little room where the owner could rest while he waited to serve customers, perhaps lose himself in a hobby or bury their nose in a gripping novel. It became quickly apparent that the owner of the shop had plenty of time to himself. Octavia and Colour Palette were likely to be the only customers in a good, long while.

The stallion had a stone grey coat and a black mane that was mostly hidden beneath his beaten and worn black fedora with a dull red band wrapped around it. He had golden eyes that clearly displayed the life of a pony who has lived a long and tiring existence. Octavia could not see his cutie mark because he was wearing a pair of some kind of robes that were grey in colour with black stitching and padding holding it together. He looked like a strange, odd sorcerer from a fantasy novel for children.

''Can I help you, weary travelers?'' He asked, coming to a stand behind his counter, facing both ponies with an expression of curiosity. ''It isn't often that I get visitors to my humble abode,'' He said. ''Might I be of assistance?''

Colour nodded and offered the stallion a smile.

''Good afternoon, Mr. Minstrel,'' He began. ''I am Colour Palette,'' He said, pointing to himself with a hoof. ''And this is Octavia,'' He said, then motioning to Octavia before he reached into his saddlebag and produced the journal before placing it on the counter in front of Minstrel. ''We've come from Ponyville to seek your assistance on this journal,'' Colour said, watching Minstrel look over the book.

Minstrel's grey hooves prodded the book, as if he was testing bath water to see if it was too hot or too cold, giving it a series of experimental prods and pokes before he opened the journal. As he did, he looked back up for a brief moment.

''Just so you know, I don't hand out refunds,'' And then he looked back down to the journal, inspecting the inner page. ''Ah! Caravaggio 'Aramatta' Palette!'' He said, recognising the name, and it showed in his brightened eyes. ''So, you're a Palette, eh?'' He asked, looking at Colour.

''Minstrel, you've met me before,'' Colour Palette deadpanned. ''Remember?''

Minstrel pulled up a pair of eyeglasses that were dangling on a piece of string around his neck and placed them in front of his eyes as he stared with narrowed eyes at Colour Palette's face.

''Oh, Colour!'' He said, becoming embarrassed all of a sudden. ''Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Colour, my eyes ain't what they used to be, you know!'' He said, glancing back down to the journal. ''So, now that I can see much better, what is this that you brought me? Your journal? Somepony else's journal?'' He asked, glancing towards Octavia with a raised brow as he said that last part.

''No, actually,'' Octavia began before Colour could get the chance to start up again. ''It belonged to Colour's ancestor, Caravaggio, who lived a very long time ago, sir,'' Octavia explained. ''We brought it to you because there's something in the journal that neither of us can understand, and it's been brought to my attention that you understand Old Ponish and black magic,'' Octavia said, and Minstrel's face hardened and became dark as soon as those words left her mouth, a deep, dark shadow covering his eyes and muzzle.

''You've got some nerve, missy,'' He said in a warning tone. ''Black magic is far too dangerous to go poking around in and experimenting with, and that goes double for you earth ponies,'' He said.

''But...you're also an earth pony,'' Octavia began, giving him a raised, furrowed brow at the accusation.

''Silence!'' Minstrel called loudly, and the shout in his voice surprised Octavia and Colour, causing them to flinch. It was so loud that both of them half-expected the ceiling to cave in on them. ''That is beside the point, my dear!'' He began. ''Black magic, in any way, shape or form is nothing to be toyed around with. It does things to ponies. Changes them, messes with their minds, causes them to hallucinate, controls them, kills them,'' He said, grinning sadistically as he pronounced the last word, inching his face closer towards Colour and Octavia.

''Y-Yes, we quite understand that,'' Octavia said, clearing her throat nervously. She was already getting put off by this guy. She half-considered making a runner out of the door, wanting nothing more than to get out and not to spend more time than necessary to get the information she needed.

''Do you?'' Minstrel asked, leaning close to her. ''Do you really understand the horrors of such forbidden magic, young lady?''

''Yes, we do,'' Colour intervened, pushing a hoof against Minstrel's chest and protectively stepping in front of Octavia. ''More than you know. My uncle died as a result of black magic. It drove him mad,'' Colour said. Minstrel observed his body language and gazed into his eyes.

''Really, now?'' He asked, pursing his lips and scratching his scruffy chin in thought, observing Colour for a moment before asking, ''And who was you uncle, might I ask?''

''My uncle's name was Stencil Palette. He's been gone for a while now. I'm here to find out what it was that caused him to become insane,'' Colour said, stepping closer to his desk, inching his muzzle towards Minstrel's as he narrowed his gaze. ''I need your help in order to do that.''

''And what are you willing to give in order to receive it, Mr. Palette?'' Minstrel asked slowly, a smile forming on his lips. He had a face that shined with the knowledge that Colour and Octavia were desperate for the help he could provide. He had played this game many times over, seizing opportunity after opportunity to smooth talk schmucks out of their wealth and personal artifacts in exchange for a few helpful words, favours and tips. That was what it was all about in the business world: bartering and cheating where appropriate in order to get by.

Why give information away for free if it could be compensated for with wealth and items of value?

''I can offer you a hundred bits,'' Colour said without hesitation, knowing this game. He steeled his eyes and bolstered himself up, tensing his muscles as he challenged the glare in Minstrel's eyes. Minstrel liked where this was going. He smiled.

''Three hundred,'' He countered.

''One hundred,'' Colour remained firm.

''Three hundred,'' Minstrel stood his ground.

''No. One fifty,'' Colour said, etching closer to Minstrel.

''Two fifty.''

''One fifty.''

''Two.''

''One!''

''Two!''

''One!''

They fired offers back and forth like a pair of gunslingers, sweat beading down on their foreheads as they pressed muzzled tightly up against each other, barring their teeth at each other.

''Alright, one and a half and you've got a deal!'' Minstrel said, knowing that Colour wasn't going to budge on his price. He snapped away and grumbled angrily under his breath as Colour counted out the bits and forked them over to the salespony, whom was still grumbling and cussing to himself under his breath.

''Now,'' Minstrel began, giving a mighty huff through his nostrils. ''What is it that you two ponies want? I am a very busy pony,'' He said impatiently, waving a hoof in the air to motion around his shop. Octavia and Colour blinked and glanced at each other, wandering what he was talking about.

The shop was void of activity, except the three of them.

''In that journal, there is what I discovered to be a Booster Spell, only that it appears to have been tampered with by the use of black magic,'' Octavia explained. ''The spell was stolen by Caravaggio from the royal archives during his stay at the royal castle in ancient times, but we don't know how to decipher the symbols or wording on the page,'' Octavia explained, helping Minstrel turn to find the correct page. She found it with ease.

Minstrel balanced his eyeglasses on his nose and he inspected the open-paged book closely as he read over the copied spell. By the look in his eyes, Octavia and Colour Palette could both tell that he was unnerved by what the spell was written with. He crinkled his nose at the smell it produced.

''By Celestia,'' He murmured. ''I've seen black magic before, but this...,'' He said, astounded and speechless as he waved his arms helplessly around the journal as he read it. ''...This is something else. It must have been some seriously powerful and very dangerous spell for it to have been sealed away in the archives,'' He said. ''Now, let's see here...''

Minstrel inspected and closely scanned over every word, symbol and hieroglyph contained in the spell with the expertise of a history lecturer. It went without saying that this was a task that he had performed numerous times, but it was impossible to tell how many. He spoke to himself as he worked the spell over, likely a part of his process, as his hoof slowly trailed over the spell, line-by-line.

Octavia and Colour let him work in silence as they watched him, sharing the occasional glance as they waited for the final verdict on what problem they had on their hooves. It only took about five minutes for Minstrel to finish decoding the spell before he raised a hoof and shouted, ''A-ha!'' in victory.

''Well, my young ponies, what you have here is indeed a tampered form of black magic, beyond any that I've ever come across,'' He said, looking up to meet their curious gaze as he glanced between them. ''It is a Booster Spell, that much is clear, but it has been modified with powerful magic, by who could only be presumed to be a powerful unicorn or alicorn, and it has been adapted so that any life form, earth, pegasi or unicorn can inherit its magical abilities,'' He explained.

''So? What does that mean, exactly?'' Colour Palette asked, growing impatient for a straight answer.

''It means that it's a blood-binding spell. Very forbidden and very dangerous if it falls into the wrong hooves. It creates life by adding new life. A hoof for a hoof, an ear for an ear, a tooth for a tooth,'' He said poetically. ''Blood binding is a very ancient form of magic, my friends. It necessitates the sacrifice of the life force of a pony, namely their blood, mane clippings, dead skin or even their bodily fluids, such as urine, and it creates a piece of their energy to reside in whatever it touches,'' He explained. ''In this case, if what I'm reading is true, this spell is bound to the blood of whomever wrote it, and I'm guess it was Caravaggio's doing?'' He asked.

''Yes,'' Octavia said. ''It's Caravaggio's blood. He wrote about it in one of his entries.''

''Fascinating,'' Minstrel nodded. ''Absolutely fascinating! Really, it is! I have never heard of such magic! There's so much to learn and to understand that it's making my mane crawl!'' He began, but froze once he saw the unamused expressions on Octavia's and Colour's face. ''Oh. Apologies,'' Minstrel deflated and ceased his momentary excitement.

''Yes, quite,'' Octavia said, bemused. ''Look, can you tell us if there's anything in that Booster Spell that tells us how to reverse it and get rid of it, or are we just wasting our time talking to you?'' Octavia asked, now very impatient and ready to storm on out of the shop with the journal. She suddenly felt a strong anger towards the middle-aged shop owner, but she had learned to hold back when the anger bites.

''Alright, alright, don't get your bow in a twist,'' Minstrel said, backing down as he grumbled beneath his breath, becoming submissive at the tone in the grey mare's voice. ''The good news is that there is a way to reverse the hold the Booster Spell has created,'' He began. ''The bad news is that it'll cost you dearly,'' He said, giving the two ponies a sly grin, the greed in his eyes glowing as he knew that he could get them to pay for what they wanted to hear. However, Octavia was in no mood.

''I've had quite enough of this,'' Octavia said as she leaned over the counter and grabbed Minstrel by the collar of his robes, shocking him and pulling him forward, his body half-propped up on the counter.

''W-W-What is the m-meaning of----'' Minstrel stammered, stunned by what was happening.

''Shut it!'' Octavia snarled. ''I've had just about enough of your little games, Minstrel! There is more at stake here than feeding that little bug in your head known as greed! Now, are you going to stop smooth talking me and my friend out of earning yourself a few more bits, or do I have to force the information from your dry, dirty little tongue?'' Octavia asked, her muzzle shoved into Minstrel's as she glared daggers at him, sharp and daring.

Minstrel's eyes shrank as he stared back at her, shaking and quivering from the crazed look in her eyes. He knew that she wasn't bluffing on causing harm, but she wasn't prepared to allow him to lose Colour Palette some extra bits when he had already lost something dear. If she could minimise his loses, she wouldn't hesitate.

''What's it going to be?'' She asked lowly. To the side of her, Colour Palette grimaced at what he was witnessing, but he was also impressed by the act. He smiled a little.

''Okay, okay!'' Minstrel squirmed. ''I'll tell you!''

''Spill it!'' Octavia said, gripping his robes tighter, prompting him to squeal.

''To reverse the Booster Spell and the hold it has on any items that have been introduced to the life force of another pony, blood or otherwise, all that you have to do is incinerate the belongings with a magical flame!'' He said, feeling himself begin to sputter as tears welled in his eyes from the fear racing through his veins.

''What kind of magical flame?'' Colour asked, leaning in towards Minstrel's face. ''Tell us!'' He demanded.

''Alright! I happen to have a vial of the magical flame that you need! I-If you let me g-go, I'll fetch it and---AH!'' He squirmed as Octavia yanked his collar.

''No, you won't!'' Octavia said, turning to face Colour Palette. ''Colour will go get it. You tell him where it is. Understood?'' She asked. Minstrel nodded slowly as he whimpered.

''Middle shelf! Small glass vial! Yellow liquid! Labelled, Phoenix Tear Drops! Take it! Just take it and leave me alone!'' He begged. All the while, listening to his cries, Colour Palette rummaged around the shelves and searched for the small vial containing the yellow liquid.

He didn't take longer than a minute before he came across it and waved it to Octavia. She nodded as she saw it in his hoof and he placed it into his saddlebags. He rejoined Octavia around the other side of the counter a moment later and he recovered the journal and placed it in his bag along with the Phoenix Tear Drops, careful not to crack the vial.

''And this should get rid of the curse?'' Colour asked.

''Yes! Just a few flicks on any possessed or bound object and it should erupt in flames! Nothing will be left but ash!'' Minstrel said quickly, hoping it would get them out of his shop quicker.

''Good. Thanks for your help,'' Colour said. ''Come on, Octavia, we're leaving,'' He said, heading towards the door of the shop.

Octavia released Minstrel after giving him a final glare, taking one last and good look at his greedy, disgusting face. She gave him a soft growl before she shoved him out of her face and proceeded to follow Colour out of the shop. Before slamming the door behind her, she said,

''By the way, your hat looks ridiculous,''

Comments

[Hawkbird]

I think the paragraph starting with "tubing, flasks, bottles, beakers and test tubes and alchemy tools." is in the wrong place.