Kukures

by Commissar Rarity

Studies Show Family Portraits are Good for the Soul

The golden lyre hung on the wall, reflecting the last rays of sun. The runes etched in its frame glittered, reflecting in the golden eyes of its watcher. Lyra flicked her little tail, wondering what it would be like to pluck a string- just once.

“Something on your mind?” a low, pleasant voice came from behind her. She turned and looked up with a smile.

“Daddy!” She bounded up and embraced him. “You’re back from Cantalawt?”

“I sure am,” he said, ruffling the filly’s mane. “And you know what? I’m gonna stay for a while now.” He looked up at the lyre as he let Lyra squirm out of his hooves. “Admiring the lyre?”

Lyra paused, looking embarrassed to admit it. “Yeah… Kind of.”

Dad leaned down next to her. “You know that’s the Heartstrings family lyre?” She shook her head no. “Well, it is. See, long ago, there was a beautiful mare – the spitting image of yourself (he winked) – and her name was Heartstrings. She was the greatest lyre player that ever played.

“One day, the princess was very sick. The smartest doctors, the best shamans, the greatest magicians- none of them could cure her. But Heartstrings knew what was wrong. The princess had a broken heart. So she sat at the princess’s beside and played her greatest composition. And you know what?” The filly shook her head again. “The beauty of the song mended her broken heart and in gratitude, Heartstrings was given that lyre. It’s stayed in the Heartstrings family ever since.”

Lyra blinked up at him in amazement. She’d heard the story before, but it never failed to impress her. Seeing her adoring expression, Dad gestured to the lyre. “Want to play it?” She nodded eagerly. Wreathing the lyre in an orange light, he floated it down to the filly, who snatched it as quickly as she could.

Lyra examined the lyre with the intensity of a scientist who had found a new species of insect. She ran a hoof down its sides, tracing the runes. With a frown, she reached out and plucked a string. A single clear note drifted out from the lyre. Smiling, she looked up at her father for approval. He laughed and ruffled her mane again.

“Maybe somepony in this family actually got the music talent.” He looked as though he had something to add, but a loud crash! From the kitchen broke his train of thought. His mouth quirked downwards. “Sounds like your mom’s having a bit of trouble in the kitchen. Let’s go help her.”

Lyra set down the lyre as carefully as she could, and trotted off after her dad, trying to match his long strides. As they turned the corner into the kitchen, she could see her mother, standing over a carton of shattered eggs.

“I’ll get the mop,” Dad said, walking back the way he came.

Lyra leaned down, tail flicking nervously as she took a closer look at the eggs. There was a strange grey-white slime covering them. In fact, the eggs themselves seemed wrong. She just couldn’t put her hoof on it…

From the gramophone in the den, a crackling recording of strings began playing. Lyra’s ears pricked back. That song was so familiar… Like she had heard it before in a–

–in a dream.

***

Lyra opened one eye, and was greeted by darkness. She sighed as she rolled over out of bed. At least the dream had made sense to a certain degree. That had been one of Lyra’s most cherished memories – the day she got her cutie mark. There had certainly been no accident in the kitchen that day.

Levitating the clock over to her, she checked the time. 4:10. An indignant groan escaped her lips. First 5:15, then 4:40… at this rate she’d never get a good night’s sleep again. It’d already been a week with poor sleep – any more and she was certain she’d go mad. Lyra rubbed the bleariness from her eyes and started downstairs, grabbing a notepad, some ink, and a quill on the way.

The song… it was the one in her head, but something her father had said was nagging at her. As she descended the final step into the dining room, it clicked into place. The song was a classical piece for a solo lyre. It had all the elements of classical Equestrian, it just didn’t sound like any classical composition she had heard.

Lyra was far from a good composer. She had tried her hoof at it repeatedly, but her compositions ended up either derivative or dull. She certainly wasn’t talented enough to spontaneously invent a song in the style of classical composers. But at the same time, there was no way for her to get a song she’d never heard before stuck in her head.

Lyra sat down at the table, and set the notepad down. Using only the light from her horn, she began scribbling down the notes from the song she remembered. It took a great deal of squinting and cursing, but she finally managed to get it finished.

Now all she had to do was find somepony with better knowledge of classical music than her. Or a book, at least.

***

Lyra was there, waiting, when the sign in the library window flipped from closed to open. She paused for a minute before opening the door. A small purple dragon, overladen with books paused to peek out from behind his precarious burden.

“Sorry, we’re a little busy with studying right now. My buddy at the front desk can help you, though.”

Lyra nodded in acknowledgement and stepped over to the desk. She glanced around, marveling at the books. Her family had only moved into Ponyville a few years ago, and aside from a wild party a couple months ago, she had no reason to go into the library. There were so many books in here. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, you could get lost easily.

“Hoo?” came an inquiring sound. Lyra snapped her head back to the desk. A brown owl perched there, catalog in front of him. He did not appear to be too happy.

“Oh. You’re up late.”

“Hoo.”

“Yeah, me too.” Lyra tapped her hoof to her chin in thought. “I guess I need a few dictionaries. What kind of dictionaries do you have here?”

The owl grasped the catalog with a talon and began flipping through it. He paused, and turned the catalog around to face her. “Hoo-hoo.”

Lyra looked down at the catalog, eyes scanning the pages. Foalster’s Equine Dictionary, Griffin Grammar Guide, Whinneapolis University Equine Dictionary, Russet’s Thesaurus… They were all so useful. She made note of their Pony Decimal System numbers and looked back up at the owl. With a ‘Thank you!’, she trotted off towards the first book.

“Hoo,” the owl hooted unenthusiastically.

Within a few minutes, Lyra had collected all the books she needed. She found a reading table nestled in a well-hidden nook and set her books down.

The Whinneapolis University Dictionary – there was no entry for kukures. Lyra shrugged; she hadn’t expected them to. The Equine professors there were obsessed with preserving the original Equine language and its offshoots, and vehemently ignored or ridiculed other languages.

Russet’s Thesaurus – again, no entry. On reflection, she wasn’t sure why she grabbed a thesaurus.

Griffin Grammar Guide – an entry! “The sound a griffin makes when he’s choking on the bones of his enemies. See also: bonemeal pie; enemies of the Griffin Empire (everyone)”. It was not strictly a grammar guide, nor was it pleasant. Unless she had sprouted wings, a beak, and claws, Lyra was pretty sure she wasn’t a griffin, so that definition of the word was out. She checked herself for signs of imminent molting anyway.

The Encyclopedia Foaltannica had another entry: “Name of the fictional lost city in the classic adventure novel King Shetland’s Mines based on the myths of the eponymous mines. The great white unicorn hunter Quatermare underwent a search for the mines, which she found in the underground city of Kukures. The exact etymology of the word ‘kukures’ is unknown”. It went on from there, but Lyra was too disappointed with that line to continue.

Lyra cradled her head in her hooves, feeling a pounding start somewhere in the recesses of her skull. She wasn’t getting anywhere, and she was doing it at a fast pace.

“Need any help?” She snapped her head up at the sound of the slightly nasal voice. The librarian-cum-magician was walking over to the bookcase by her, levitating a small stack of books. Lyra caught the title of one of the books, Lordran: The Land of Giants.

“I’m just trying to find a word I heard, but it doesn’t seem to be in most of these.”

“Huh.” The other unicorn placed the last book in the shelf and walked over. “What word?”

“Kukures.”

“Can you spell that?” the librarian asked, levitating a book from a shelf on the far wall. Lyra spelled it for her, and she flipped through the book. “Well it’s not in this one, and this is the end-all dictionary in Equestria. Are you sure it’s not just some nonsense word a writer or somepony made up?”

“No, it’s in these two books.” Lyra telekinetically pushed the grammar book and the encyclopedia over. The librarian took them and flipped them around to read.

“Ah, it’s a griffin word. That explains a lot, really. Did you know that griffins go to great lengths to avoid showing other races too much of their culture or language? Just getting a copy of this book required a lot of effort, and any ambassadors or exchange students perfectly mimic the culture they’re exposed to.” She noticed Lyra’s eyes glazing over, and hurried to get to her point. “I don’t know where you heard this word but I’m surprised at it. Like I said, getting this grammar book was hard. I only have it because I wanted to learn more about griffins after one visited a while back. You can take it for studying if you want. And here’s a book on Equestrian myths to study the King Shetland’s Mines connection.”

She proffered the books to Lyra, practically shoving them in the other mare’s face. Lyra took them, more out of obligation than actual desire. “Er, thanks. I have to be going now.”

“Alright, you know where to find me if you have any more questions,” she said with a chuckle as Lyra trotted out the door.

***

Lyra thumbed through the grammar guide, occasionally pausing to take a bite of her clover sandwich or a sip of chamomile tea. She’d been reading the whole thing ever since she left the library and reached the cafe, and she was making good progress. Already she had read of the methods used to contain griffin mages (they clipped the mage’s wings so they couldn’t fly and escape) and proper caretaking of airships. And those were just the especially interesting facts.

Setting the grammar guide aside for the moment, she opened the book on myths – The Complete Broncos Grimm and Dissertations on the Origins of Such Faerie Tales. Lyra scanned the table of contents, searching for the myth of King Shetland’s Mines.

Flipping to the correct page, she began reading the post-story notes. They were dry, and Lyra began to feel herself drift. She snapped her eyes open with a jolt, feeling a presence nearby.

“Wow, you’re jumpy,” Colgate said, sitting in the chair next to Lyra. “Something I shouldn’t be reading in that?”

“Just tired.” Lyra wiped some drool off her chin. “Oh, horse apples,” she said with a look of dawning realisation. “We were doing the photo thing today.”

“Yeah we were. Everypony else is at the Snapshot waiting on us. Good thing I decided to take the scenic route or I’d have missed you.”

Lyra sighed, and packed the books in her saddlebag. “I suppose we should get going then.” She slid off her stool and shouldered the bag.

***

The Snapshot was a small, dark building nestled into a back corner of Ponyville. Lyra had been there a few times in the short time since it had opened to get some promotional shots of her for various concerts and events. It never made much of an impact on her, but it was cheaper than the other photography studio in town. The amount of effort the photographer put into her work also seemed higher than the other studio as well.

As Colgate swung open the door, Lyra could see her nieces, uncle, and brother-in-law waiting. She felt a flush come over her at the thought of making them wait so long. She passed a trio of well-dressed unicorns sleeping on a bench, dapper hats covering their faces. Her tail drooped between her legs – not only had she made her family wait, but these stallions too.

“Here we all are,” her sister piped, throwing her arm around Lyra’s neck. “I, uh… I think since it took so long we’ll only take the one pic.”

An elegant pinkish earth pony mare stuck her head out from behind a curtain that partitioned the studio. “Oh! Well that’s fine.” Her voice had a burr to it that Lyra could never pin down. “One picture, five bits.” She slipped out from behind the curtain. “Don’t just stand there, sillies. Get over there to that black curtain.”

The Heartstrings family huddled in front of the curtain she pointed out, rearranging themselves after a bit of trouble. The small room was cramped, but they made do. The pink mare had to pull the camera back to get them all in frame, almost pinning herself to the table behind her. Uncle Heartstrings positioned himself in between the two sisters and Lyra gently poked him in the back.

“Why isn’t dad here?” she asked in a low voice.

“An emergency in the capital or somesuch.” His voice had the rough edges of a San Palominoan farmer.

“Oy there! Stop talkin’ and smile, eh?” The Heartstrings put on their best smiles as the camera flashed twice. “Yeah, think we’re good here,” the photographer said as she pushed the camera lense in. “Nothing at all like pulling teeth – short, easy, and painless.” She either did not see or chose to ignore Colgate’s unamused glare at that comparison. “Come back in a few days and we’ll have a big old picture that says ‘Heartstrings Family’, yeah?”

There were nods all around and the family soon made their way out the door. Lyra stayed behind a moment, lost in thought. Mind still elsewhere, she took a step forward only to be stopped by the sharp rap of wood on her knee. She followed the smooth, black rod to its owner: one of the sleeping stallions.

He wore a pinstriped suit and vest and a bowler cap. His horn poked out from under the cap, pushing it back on his head. A bushy mustache curled from his muzzle, a dark blue to match the pastel shades of his coat and suit. Something about him was familiar to Lyra.

“Heartstrings Family?” he asked, peering at her from under the brim of his hat. “As in Lyra Heartstrings?”

“Ye-e-s…” Lyra began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. “Why do you ask?”

The stallion adjusted his stance to look at her better, flipping his cane back up to rest on his shoulder. “Because we’ve met.”

“Doctor Trotson?” Lyra’s eyes flicked over to the doorway, where Colgate was standing. “What are you doing in town?”

Trotson smiled. It bore the appearance of being pleasant but not the feeling. “My new term on the security council just began, so I’m in need of a new portrait. The photo studios in Canterlot charge a hoof and an antler to begin with so I decided to come here.” He gestured at the photographer. “Plus, the lovely Miss Daydancer here is an acquaintance of mine and I will take any excuse to see her.”

A lantern lit in Lyra’s head and she remembered where she knew him. Doctor Trotson, head of the Ministry of Intelligence. Someponies called it “the Secret Police”. Maybe they were right. When Trotson had led the questioning of her, Colgate, and Twinkleshine after the royal wedding, he’d been much more cold and brutal. Now he was nothing but charm and sophistication.

“And I’ve been rather interested in how you two have been getting along in the last few months.” Trotson stood, laying his cane on the bench. “Losing control of oneself, to be trapped in your own body as another directs it… It’s a terrifying experience.” The edge in his voice showed that he was speaking from experience.

“I’ve been doing fine,” Colgate chimed in. “Had some nightmares for a few weeks, but I think I’m over it for the most part.”

“Good to hear. You must have the constitution of a bison, madam.” He leered suggestively for a moment as he said, “A very attractive quality in a mare.” He winked.

“I’m married.” Colgate’s voice was flat and venomous. “And I think I hear my husband and children calling me, if you don’t mind.”

“Very well,” Trotson said, removing his hat and giving a curtsy to her. “A pleasure speaking to you as always, my dear.” As Colgate huffed her way back out the door, he turned his attention to the seafoam unicorn still standing in the middle of the studio. “And what of you, Miss Heartstrings- any strange compulsions or thoughts?”

Lyra was surprised to hear herself talk. “Actually… I do. More like obsessions, though.” The two ponies on the bench pushed their hats up to peer at the mare. She didn’t notice, however, and continued. “Like… I keep having dreams. Really weird ones. They’re all…” All what? How could she possibly describe them? Her cheeks burned in foolishness. “Weird,” she finished awkwardly.

The two ponies on the bench exchanged glances as Trotson tapped his chin in thought. “You said obsessions too. What of them?”

Lyra scratched the back of her head. “Like… A song stuck in my head. It isn’t finished, and I feel like I have to finish it. Write the ending. And there’s this word. Gibberish really, but it won’t get out of my head.”

“What word?”

“Kukures.” An acute case of déjà vu swept over Lyra as she said this, mind drifting back to her morning spent at the library.

He shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of that word. But to me it sounds like a form of post-traumatic stress disorder. Are you aware of it?” She nodded in response. “Good. Now then, I know a great many psychologists, but only one lives here in Ponyville. I believe it’d do you good to go meet her.”

Lyra’s tail flicked in happiness. “Really? You think it’s just that?”

“Of course, dear.” He floated a notepad and quill from Daydancer’s table and scribbled something on it before ripping the page out. It hovered over to Lyra, and she took it into her yellow aura of magic. “Just tell her that her friend Trotson sent you. She’ll understand.”

“Thank you. You don’t know how much this will help,” she said as she started for the door.

The tinkle of the bell signaled her exit, and Trotson slowly turned to his companions. “Keep an eye on her. If she’s triggered… Well, you know what to do.” He smiled broadly, looking back at Daydancer. “So! Need a few portraits, love.”

Comments

[DeltaΔ]

So, apparently Lyra struck just one note, and all the eggs got fertalized...all the eggs.

[Scootablue]

Ah, the plot thickens. Lyra is a changeling sleeper agent and now she's being spied on. This should be good.

[TheNobleDragon]

Uh-ohhhh....

[PhibbyRizo]

Oh me oh my...
Great chapter!