Cutie Mark Espionage Agency

by Impossible Numbers

Sweet Millennium Spies

New Alicornia glowed with power. The town lay in the middle of an amphitheatre of mountains, overlooked by the snow-capped spires that reflected the town in an iridescence that would have made the aurora borealis gape in astonishment.

And what a show New Alicornia had on for the mountains tonight: from above, the entire town was shaped like a winged unicorn in full flight, with the lights placed so strategically that the eyes, crown, necklace, royal golden shoes, and sun-shaped cutie mark could be distinguished. There were town planners, and then there were town artists, but this was the work of a town Rembrandt.

Cathedral belfries and elevated mansions, some actually on hovering hemispheres of earth, overlooked the rainbow stepping stones of the path, which changed colour as unicorns walked on them. Festival decorations were draped from windowsill to windowsill, banners hung over the main streets thronging with ponies, and tents and wooden stalls were strung along the sidewalks like beads on a necklace. Every unicorn around the main festival near the town's "head" was dressed in frou-frou and frills, with gaudier costumes for the Earth ponies around the fair at the town's "forelegs", both groups looking like the hybrids of ponies and birds of paradise.

The New Alicornia clock tower chimed the hour. A ripple spread out from its face as though it were on water, distorting space-time as it passed through the town, until everything else jumped ahead and all the ponies were now where they would be five minutes later. This instantly moved Rarity and Sweetie Belle straight from the train station in the town's "rear leg" to a street near the fair, where they were trotting side-by-side. There were scatterings of ponies around, so the fair hadn't started in earnest yet.

"Now, Sweetie Belle," said Rarity, as the ripple reached the outermost point of the town and died away, "I know how much you dislike waiting around before the show, so perhaps you would like to have a stroll around the New Alicornia fair before tonight, hm?"

Sweetie Belle was shaking her head at the time jump. Sure, Rarity had been forewarned, but she had neglected to tell her.

"But," she said, once the memories of the last five minutes suddenly caught up with her, "you're going to do all that dressmaking and stuff, and you never let me go on my own."

Rarity stopped outside a textiles stall, admiring the selection of silks and velvet cushions. Sweetie Belle played with a dangling selvage, somehow managing to unravel it. The stall owner shooed her away and she went to stand next to Rarity.

"Oh, but you won't be alone, Sweetie Belle," Rarity said. "By good fortune, a… friend of mine happened to be in New Alicornia today."

"Hey, Rarity!"

From across the road, a green pony was stumbling over to her, trying to juggle a long pole with a window wiper on the end, a bucket full of water, and some coiled rope. On top of his brown mane, a green cap bounced as if it was as excited to see them as he was. Judging by the state of his shirt, which was technically white but seemed to be going off, he'd been doing some cleaning work recently.

He tripped and landed face first in the coiled rope, dropping the pole and spilling the water over the road. Rarity raised a hoof to avoid the suds.

"Hayseed, how nice to see you again," she said with a strained smile. "Sweetie Belle, meet Mister Hayseed Turnip Truck, an old… friend of mine."

Sweetie Belle looked up at her as if at any moment Rarity's forehead would open and a cuckoo would pop out. If Rarity had told her that she had a friend here, Hayseed, who was so country that any pony who looked at him immediately heard banjo music, would have been a stellar example of who Sweetie Belle would specifically have chosen not to be an example.

Hayseed sat back on his haunches, apparently none the worse for having the rope wrapped around both his snout and his buck teeth.

"A right pleasure ter meet yer, Sweetie Belle." He extended a hoof so enthusiastically he nearly poked her in the eye. When they shook, Sweetie Belle had difficulty stopping her leg going up and down afterwards and was still vibrating as Rarity spoke.

"He usually works up in Canterlot, but he happened to be in town for this day, and he kindly offered to help me out by looking after you."

"You betcha. This place is a town o' oppor-toon-ity. Lots of dirty windows here," he said, pulling a cloth out of the bucket. Several ponies nearby overheard him and scoffed. Sweetie Belle finally stopped her hoof from going up and down, but it still felt numb.

"Aren't there already window cleaners here?" she said.

"Ah know that," whispered Hayseed behind a raised hoof. "But they don't."

"You will make sure she comes back to the Ponydrome by midnight, won't you?" said Rarity. "She mustn't be a minute late."

"You can coun' on me, Rarity!" He saluted, nearly knocking the cap off his head.

"Excellent. I shall see you later, Sweetie Belle. Mwah," she said, giving her sister a peck on the cheek before she turned to Hayseed. "Remember, not even a minute. I am placing my trust in you."

"Don't you worry yer li'l fancy hat off; ol' Hayseed's the trustingest pony you can find."

They briefly shook hooves, and Sweetie Belle kept in a giggle as she noticed Rarity wince and massage her own pastern. Then she watched her elder sister walk away. Hayseed picked up his fallen items.

"Ah jus' gotta drop this stuff of at mah place, then we can go to this fair in town," he said to Sweetie. "How's that sound?"

"Um, great."

They started to walk, Hayseed attracting a lot of funny glances for his insane balancing act.

"How do you know Rarity?" said Sweetie. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but... Rarity hobnobs with the Canterlot sort of pony. I've never heard of her hobnobbing a window-cleaner before."

Hayseed caught the bucket, saving a passing unicorn from having her dress insta-cleaned.

"Oh, we met at one of the Apple family hoedowns at Sweet Apple Acres – we Turnips an' Apples go back a lon' way. It was cos o' her Ah got to know a pony who knew a pony who knew another pony who was datin' another pony who was the daughter of a pony who knew a pony's uncle who served a pony in the army of a commander pony who ran off with another pony who had a friend of a brother of a second cousin's wife's twin sister's dawg in Canterlot."

"Wow, that's a long way to go from Ponyville."

"You'd be amazed how many windows need cleanin', especially the dawg's."

"What are you doing here?"

"Why you know that. Ah'm taking these doohickeys back to mah lodgin'. Oh, wait, you mean in New Alicornia? Aw shucks, Ah was asked to come here by some fancy pants pony called, er… Fancypants. Tol' me he wanted his New Alicornia apartment to have clean windows, an' since Ah used to clean his mansion windows back in Canterlot, he asked me. Cos he knows Ah can deliver. An' it turns out Ah fill somethin' called a… a nitch here."

They reached a small house with the sign "rooms to let" stuck to the window. Compared with the rest of New Alicornia, the Georgian timber design looked quite plain. Hayseed hurried inside and came out empty-hooved.

"Well, that done. Wanna go get some milkshakes?"

"Milkshakes? YAY!"

---

One candle glowed in the darkness of the library. The pile of books surrounding it had shrunk to a mere thirty six, but they and the lone scroll lay on the desk, hoping to grow roots and branches again if they stood still long enough.

To one side, Twilight summoned the candle over to her, illuminating one book's spine at a time with a gradual sweep over the shelves. Eventually, she found what looked like a slab of limestone that had been cut into the shape of a brick, and excavated it. The cover read: Mutton's Monstrous Mythical Monsters, and What To Do If You Meet Them – Two Books In One.

Just out of interest, she flipped to the last page, looking for an index. Instead, the page she found was entitled Book Two: What To Do If You Meet Them, under which were the words: "Check life insurance policy is up to date, and having ascertained that it is, proceed to un-meet them as soon as possible."

A rustle of pages was followed by a slight brightening as the candle was moved closer.

"Cerberus," Twilight read aloud. "A very large three-headed canine beast of the species Fido hadesii. They are said to watch the entrances of secret lairs, acting as guard dogs on the behalf of any pony who can master them. Though they are friendly and loyal to those whom they trust, they are dangerous when excited and should only be handled by a powerful unicorn. Definitely not good with children. Needs no daily exercise. Apparently, they make excellent music critics."

There were more paragraphs further below. Twilight moved over to the desk and set aside her previous essay, spreading a new scroll over the desk and dipping the quill into the inkwell. Carefully, she copied the notes from the page. She'd just finished when the candle flame shrank and turned to a wisp.

"Now, Twilight, question time. What would a giant dog be doing around Ponyville?" she said, tucking the scroll into one of the books. "What's there around here to interest it? Owlowiscious," she called, while trying not to wake Spike upstairs. "Owlowiscious?"

Glancing around the shelves, Twilight listened for a tell-tale sound. Perhaps she'd left a window open and banging, but then why would he go outside when everything he wanted was inside?

A shadow flew through the round window of her room and landed atop one of the towers on her desk. Owlowiscious opened his beak, dropping a rolled up scroll.

Messages were a little awkward for her. While Spike with his magic flame was capable of transporting letters to and from the Princess, and had recently learned how to direct letters to other locations, they had yet to work out a receiving system with his flame that was just as quick. It would have needed a sender at her friends' locations. But there were no other dragons in Ponyville, and Spike refused to submit to Twilight's cloning spell: even if the other man was him, he didn't fancy having a love triangle with Rarity.

Twilight unfurled the scroll and glanced over the message, twisting her mouth as if hoping to wring some answers out of it.

"Zecora?" she said to the name at the bottom. "At this hour?"

There are some ponies you could set your watch by; with Twilight, you could set the standard definition for the base SI unit of time, and then plan out an entire calendar afterwards. She had worked out long ago that a pony only needed four or five hours a night for sleep, and she was used to working late and rising early, two habits rarely seen together. Even Zecora, who was not only out of town but out of what most ponies would call the habitable zone, had learned to work engagements with Twilight around this fact.

She summoned her saddlebags, filling them with the books Zecora had requested, and hooted a thank you to Owlowiscious in owlspeak, though as her friend pointed out, she was still indulging too much in a snowy owl accent.

To her surprise, there were thumps coming from outside, followed by a crash behind the front door. Several books fell off the shelves. From beyond the woodwork, she could hear scratching.

She opened the door and immediately jumped back as a tree slammed into the ground in front of her. High above, three heads drooled and panted. It took her a while to take in what was occurring.

"Oh, er," she said. "It's you again, I see."

One of the dog heads barked and nudged the tree with a sticky nose. It was like watching a train bump into the buffers, complete with steam effects when it breathed out.

"You, er, want me to throw it again?"

All three heads nodded, drenching her with flying spittle. She shook it out of her mane and looked past the black mass. At this point, she wasn't quite prepared to plan time for playing fetch with a two-storey tall, three-jawed hellhound that made the Hound of the Baskervilles look like its favourite squeaky toy.

It was while avoiding the gazes that Twilight noticed, and was surprised to see, a circular patch of white on its rump. The notes she'd just taken from the book hadn't mentioned anything about feathers. Yet clumps of them fell off the beast's flank and lay sadly on the ground. She glanced up at its faces, one at a time.

"So, mister cerberus, tell me: who is your owner?" she asked. All three heads stopped drooling, which was a mercy for the grass beneath its paws. The right head looked out over the forest.

"What's your name?" she asked, but when this earned a puzzled look, a frown, and an unintelligible bark, she tried: "OK, do you have a name?"

The dog heads looked pleadingly at each other before they shook in unison. Twilight looked back at the tree.

"Well, I'd prefer to call you by a name, so how about… Sticks?"

The left head yipped with a question mark on the end. After the other two hastily barked back, it smiled and all three nodded.

"OK, Sticks. My name is Twilight Sparkle. I'm a student of Princess Celestia. I'm currently on a royal mission to explore the magic of friendship, and I'm a great believer in extracurricular activities, so I'd rather the magic didn't stop flowing between us. But I'm going to have to ask you a few questions - since I don't usually accept strays at the doorstep - and then send you on your way. Can you tell me who your owner is?"

A quick conference in barks established a nod from the middle head. A paw like a settee with scythes coming out of it pointed at her.

"Me? I can't be your master."

Sticks shook his heads vigorously and tapped her horn, then placed a paw on the middle head and pretended to make "shoot, shoot" noises through dangling lips.

"Oh, I see. Your master's a unicorn." Twilight leaned closer. "OK, I'll make this quick, but two questions: first, where is your master now?"

This one seemed to be a poser – the heads barked as if they were slouchy office workers asking after days of the week to establish when the boss had last checked in. The eventual consensus was a sigh and a shrug, both impressive feats of physiology for a creature sharing lungs and shoulder blades between three brains.

"Very well. Second question: why did you attack Ponyville? You almost frightened everypony to death."

Right head nodded cheerfully until he noticed the disapproving looks from the others, and he hung his ears in shame. All three looked back at Everfree Forest. To Twilight's surprise, they were whimpering. Granted, a wheezing steam train could make a less ear-traumatising noise, but the timbre of fear was still there.

What was Sticks frightened of? Could there be a monster even worse than this one?

"Well, thank you all the same. Must be going now. I recommend you find some place a little out of the way for a while. Try near the little cottage on the edge – Fluttershy happens to be very good with animals, so long as you don't startle her."

The tree shot through the air and disappeared through the distant canopy. For her trouble, Twilight received three licks in quick succession and watched through a veneer of spittle as Sticks bounced away. She smoothed down her mane, which had conspired with the drool to defy gravity, and shut the door behind her.

Something had frightened a beast which had its own entry in a book whose advice section largely consisted of not being around when it was hungry. Cheerilee had been reduced to Miserablee, however briefly. And the Cutie Mark Crusaders were sneaking out after dark: not that this in itself was beyond the Crusaders, but she doubted that even they were considering Fluffy taming as a talent for life.

Coincidence? Definitely.

Twilight was many things, but superstitious was not one of them, since she was a student of magic. That did not mean that events couldn't conspire to bring things together. Princess Celestia had been a great believer in destiny, though what she believed about it was anypony's guess. Twilight had her suspicions, anyway.

Ponies didn't really understand what being a student actually involved. Visitors saw the books and the quills and the overflowing timetables and assumed that it was about obsessive study – cramming as much information in as possible so that you could answer the questions at the exams. Answering questions was a good steering force, Twilight would have conceded, but what really got the cart moving was an unwholesome desire to ask questions of your own.

Twilight trotted under the moonlight, scattering white feathers beneath her hooves as she passed.

---

At the bar of downtown New Alicornia, the two ponies sat near the door and sucked the chocolate milkshakes noisily through their straws. Hayseed was particularly noisy, but then he had reached the bottom and was trying his darnedest to suck up the last few drops.

He broke off for a moment. "Say, Sweetie Belle, yer know what a spittoon is?" he said.

When she shook her head, he turned on his rump and pointed at a jar on the bar top. Sweetie Belle had assumed it was for tips and had put some bits in there earlier.

"That's one. We used to have 'em everywhere back at the farm. You use it like this." He made a noise like a drain being unplugged, and fired a gob of spit. It pinged when it hit the inside of the jar.

"Ew. That's disgusting. Can I try it?"

"Sure. It's all in the back o' the throat."

Sweetie Belle took a deep breath, and gagged on her spit. It took a moment of patting her back before Hayseed dislodged it and it shot up to the roof and stuck there. The stain began to dangle and threatened to drip.

"Nice range!" Hayseed said, looking up at it. "Jus' a bit o' aimin' an' yer'll be pretty good."

Sweetie Belle beamed. The drip fell off the roof and into the mug of a customer, who was too busy reading the paper to notice. Hayseed and Sweetie exchanged looks and sidestepped out of the bar, whistling as they did so.

---

Middle Hoof did not move an inch.

This is a skill few ponies can really pull off. Though they certainly looked like they could achieve it to the naked eye, however much they concentrated, there was always that slight quivering of muscle that – to anyone inspecting closely – would have disqualified them from a really strict game of musical statues. Middle Hoof wouldn't have been caught out. He wouldn't even have moved when the music continued playing.

The chamber was empty. It was full of emptiness. Whoever had designed it had clearly had a vicious inferiority complex, because the sheer overwhelming scream of silence in such a granite cavern made even the bulkiest of ponies feel like a midge in a dungeon. When ponies had actually lived there, the floor took great pleasure in magnifying every footstep for inspection, and the domed ceiling was often mistaken for a sky that had solidified.

There were windows in the clerestory above, but only moonlight poured out and at this distance it wouldn't have penetrated far coming down anyway. Middle Hoof sat back, bathed in another light source entirely.

Before him, the twin pillars glowed with an eerie blackness. A bubble of dark blue ether traced a circle in the air between them. Within its depths, he could briefly see a flash of a unicorn horn.

A voice penetrated the darkness, terrible and eldritch and seductive as a succubus.

It said: "I'm sorry. Your call is in a queue. Please hold."

Classical music began playing. Middle Hoof sighed.

---

"Ooh, ooh, can we go on the rollercoaster?" said Sweetie Belle, pointing to a sign overhead. Hayseed looked up from the grass and peered at the writing.

"Uh, what's a rolly-coaster?" he said.

Which was why, several minutes later, Sweetie Belle threw her forelegs up to the rushing air and screamed: "WHEEEEEEEEE!"

"Ah'm sorry Ah asked!"

Hayseed clutched the safety bar as the ride swooped and flew over the tracks. His face was turning greener than usual and he stuck a hoof into his mouth, bunching up his cheeks.

"WHEEEE – Oh no, don't hold it in! Quick, here's a bag."

"Thanks," he said, taking it from her.

Which in turn was why, several minutes later still, they were both hurrying through the exit.

"Ah'm sorry!" Hayseed shouted at the angry crowd behind him. "It was goin' so fast, Ah couldn't hold on ter the bag!"

---

Scootaloo sat on her haunches in the middle of the street.

She stared at the scooter for some time, as if daring it to ask her what was wrong. Without her friend, who (in her own words) would rather eat all the bad apples in the orchard than get caught out late, she was at a loss for what to do. Going home to bed didn't count because she didn't want to do it.

Her wings fluttered feebly and she turned her head to watch, completely devoid of any better entertainment. It was as she was doing so that she noticed Twilight walking down another road, heading out of town. Scootaloo frowned.

"She tells us not to stay out late," she muttered, patting the scooter. She leaned it against a nearby house. "You wait here. I'll be right back."

From house to house she hurried, flapping with excitement. Twilight had passed the town boundary and was following the path towards the forest edge. Scootaloo ducked behind a bush. If Twilight was going into that place, things were bound to get interesting.

All the same, she paused on the threshold of dark green. Scare chords began to rise in her ears. The forest was not a place to enter lightly, and Scootaloo had heard stories. Young fillies had disappeared. Some had come back several months later, with wide eyes and severe speech impediments. They also tended to wake up screaming in the middle of the night. She didn't know which stories scared her more; the ones about the fillies that never came back, or the ones about the fillies that did.

Not forgetting what had happened the last time she'd wandered into this place… Her eyes focused on Twilight's retreating back, and she briefly felt a pang of relief before she remembered that Twilight had been there the last time, too.

It was as she was thinking these thoughts that a new thought popped up in her mind: Well, that was then. This is now.

This new thought caught her by surprise, as though a neatly organised toy box had just thrown a forgotten old jack-in-the-box at her. In her head, Scootaloo fancied that the new voice sounded like Rainbow Dash. It even puffed out its chest like she did, an impressive feat for a minor piece of cognition.

Come on, Scoots. Twilight would know about last time. She's probably learned some nifty new magic trick to make sure that she doesn't get caught out again. She's an egghead after all. She isn't stupid.

All the same, Scootaloo chewed her lip. Would Dash have said that if she was here, or was that merely what she, Scootaloo, thought her hero would say?

You wanted to be a spy, didn't ya? So why wait? Stick close enough to her and you'll be as safe as she is. Go get her, kid! Go on!

"Come on, Scoots," she repeated to herself. "You are not a chicken. You can be whatever you want, remember?"

She breathed in, flared out her wings, and strode purposefully into the shadows.

A while later, it occurred to her that she was supposed to be hiding, and dived into a nearby bush. Twilight paused and looked back. Scootaloo held her breath.

When her mark continued walking, the stealthmaster-to-be let out a groan of annoyance and began zigzagging from bush to bush.

---

Sweetie Belle and Hayseed were forced to shunt their way through the crowds now, passing through the main square. They guided themselves using the tall column in the centre of the square fountain, and in this way they were soon standing before one of the orange stalls. Sweetie Belle stopped.

"What's that?" she asked. Hayseed turned to look.

"Ah've seen one o' these before. It's called, uh, a coconut shy. Ah know how this works. Throw the three balls at the three coconuts an' yer get a prize."

Sweetie Belle beamed as he produced some bits from a pocket. Three coins flipped through the air and into the waiting hoof of the stall owner, who pocketed them and continued sipping his orange juice.

Sweetie Belle picked up a ball with her glowing horn, but was interrupted by the stall owner, who was tapping a sign behind him. It said: NO MAGIC.

Instead, she picked it up in her mouth and angled her head carefully. A quick spit dislodged the ball, but it fell short and rolled to a halt at the base of one of the poles. The next two balls went the same way. Sweetie Belle's ears drooped.

Hayseed noticed, and pursed his lips around his buck teeth. An idea seemed to strike him, for he then turned to the stall owner. The stall owner nodded, and for three bits, threw over three balls in front of Hayseed.

"Hey," Hayseed said to Sweetie. "Watch this."

He gave his hoof a flick, sending the ball skywards. When it came down, he surged forwards and his forelock impacted the rubber.

The stall owner blanched and ducked as the ball nearly took his head off. It hit the sign (which later rolled up and fell off the wall), bounced off, struck one coconut, bounced sideways and struck another one, which shot over and took out the third.

Having spilt the juice over his jacket, the stall owner, dusting himself off, saw the result and gaped.

"Wow!" said Sweetie Belle. "That's amazing. How did you do that?"

Hayseed chuckled. "You'd be amazed how many times Ah needed to do that on the turnip farm. Those turnips could sure get nasty. What did Ah win?"

The stall owner gestured to a display. "Anything you want."

"Wow, really?"

"Yes, that's the prize for getting all three. In one shot." The stall owner's ears drooped. "Which I thought nopony would ever do."

"Well, that's mighty swell. Anythin' you want, Sweetie Belle?" said Hayseed. Sweetie Belle tapped a hoof thoughtfully, then pointed.

"That will do nicely."

---

Throaty noises came from the darkness as Twilight stepped through. Even for a forest so moody and anti-authoritarian that it blocked out wind and sunlight just to keep up its public image, Everfree Forest was chillier than usual. She'd learned enough spells to banish the lesser sort of peril Everfree could throw at her – or which usually threw itself at her, often with great gusto – but she preferred to keep her eyes alert all the same.

Twilight heard the crash and swung around. There was nopony behind her on the path. She walked back, and looked left and right. Above her, Scootaloo was flattening her back against a ceiling of leaves, all four legs stretched out to hook on the crisscrossing branches and vines.

Twilight sighed. "I know you're directly above me, Scootaloo. I do have peripheral vision."

Scootaloo kept quiet in case her mark was bluffing. The slight flaw in this plan did not go unnoticed by Twilight – and neither did Scootaloo when the unicorn actually did look up.

"H-hey, Twilight," she said, leg muscles shaking from the effort.

"I thought I asked you to return home. Scooting around Ponyville at night is one thing, but following me into Everfree Forest?"

Scootaloo dropped down, using wing beats to steady her fall. "I figured if nothing would attack you, then so long as I stuck close, I'd be OK."

"That's not good enough, Scoots. Why follow me at all?" Twilight said, as something nearby chirped.

Scootaloo pursed her lips. "You know what espionage is?" When Twilight's eyes pleaded with her to make sense, Scootaloo added: "Please, Twilight, don't tell anyone about this?"

"You really push the limit, Scootaloo, but alright. I'll not tell anyone you were out late sneaking up behind me if you go back home now –"

"I meant not tell anyone that I got caught. It'd be really embarrassing if Rainbow Dash found out, and I wanted to impress her with my awesome sneaking skills, and I was just getting good at it, too."

"Scootaloo, I can't agree to any of this. Will you please just go home now?"

"If I come along with you to the hut, would you give me an escort home?"

"No! This is business between me and my friend Zecora."

"She won't mind if I'm there. I'm a friend of hers, too."

Twilight rubbed a hoof against her eyelids, which were getting tired rapidly. Shaking off Scootaloo was like getting acrylic paint out of fur.

"Alright, how about this: you stay close to me for protection while we're in Everfree Forest, and I'll escort you home once I'm done with Zecora. OK?"

Scootaloo lined up next to Twilight, who was positioning herself to go. "It is on!"

A while into the walk, however, Twilight noticed that Scootaloo kept dodging back whenever she looked around to check on her.

"Er, Scoots, what are you doing?"

"I'm still tailing you, aren't I? As far as you're concerned, I'm not really here. And you didn't hear that! Or that! Or that!"

"Right. You're tailing me while walking next to me, right up close. In my shadow, in fact."

"You know a metaphor involving sneaking and shadows? Of course you do: it's egghead stuff. Forget I said anything."

Twilight winced as she walked along. It was understandable enough that Scootaloo would idolise Dash for her flying skills, but did she really have to start talking like her, too?

---

Sweetie Belle and Hayseed were sitting on the bench, overlooking the fair and licking their ice creams. Sweetie now had a manticore costume on, with her horn sticking through its nose; Hayseed had a tailcoat, a cane, and a top hat, as well as a monocle that kept popping out and having to be shoved back in the area around his eye again.

"How do they wear these whadjacallits? They sure are dang uncomfy. I'd rather have mah cleaner's gear on any day."

"Tell me a story!" said Sweetie Belle.

"Alrigh'. Did Ah ever tell yer about mah time at the hoedown?"

"When you met Rarity?"

"Nope. Ah was thinkin' o' one of the earlier ones. Ah remember mah firs' hoedown, cos that was the firs' time Ah had friends. Firs' time Ah met the Apple family, firs' time Ah even danced. An' Ah had mah firs' kiss there. They was good times."

He leaned back in the bench and sighed at the fireworks, all of which were rising over the clock tower like ominous dragons. From a distance, they could hear laughter from the fortress of bright tents and arenas.

"But Ah ain't seen any of 'em since Ah moved to Canterlot for good."

Sweetie tipped the rest of the ice cream into her mouth, swallowing it, and looked up at him.

"Maybe you could take time off work, you know, for a vacation?" she said. "You could go back to Ponyville to see your friends again."

Hayseed appeared not to have heard her. He didn't even notice when his ice cream fell onto the floor with a pathetic splodge. Sweetie tapped him on the hoof, and he looked away from the fireworks and down at her smiling face. His eyes lit up again and he returned the smile.

"That's a real nice thought. Say," he said more cheerfully. "D'you have friends, Sweetie Belle?"

"Oh, yes. We formed our own secret society. We're called the Cutie Mark Crusaders."

---

Liquid brew bubbled and slurped with the heat of the fire. Over the fumes of the pot, ancient words were chanted and sprinklings of sage drifted down. Zecora crooned into the depths as though calming an infant, and gently turned the pages of the reference book next to her.

She winced, but only slightly, as a cluck spat at her from across the room.

Honest Tongue flower petals were left to float on the surface of the scum, while a few logs were nudged under the fire, igniting new flames. A rising frenzy of bubbles erupted from the brew, while the herbalist waited for the petals to soak up the fluid and sink.

Zecora coughed meaningfully as a flutter of wings swooped behind her.

As she leaned forwards with a spoon of oak and a hungry expression, the pot was knocked over by a low flying object and she screamed out in frustration at the mess.

"Oh, not again, you foolish thing!
"Salvation to you, how can I bring
"If you keep spilling what's left of my stock?
"Back in the cage, you foolish cock!"

With much squawking, the chicken was stuffed through the gap in the bamboo bars. Zecora slammed the door and bolted it before she heard the patter of hooves and turned around.

"Twilight, my friend! At last, you came!
"And now, Zecora will tell you her game."

To her astonishment, Scootaloo zipped through the door between Twilight's legs and took up residence behind the bird cage, the occupants of which began squawking at her. Zecora looked at Twilight in confusion.

"Don't ask," Twilight said. "She'll only say it's a covert operation, whatever that is. Whoa. What happened to your hut?"

Shelves lay broken on the floor, amid the pieces of glass and torn leaves. The cauldron was replaced to its upright position, but the brew was oozing over the rug like a blob monster in a retirement home. Books had been torn apart and scattered over the ground.

"There is a thief that's still at large,
"Against whom a certain zebra would lay a charge."

Twilight wandered across the hut, trying not to look disheartened at the wreckage. She had enjoyed very little contact with the outside world during her early years at Canterlot, and in such conditions affections tend to grow for the few things a mind engaged with. Her time in the libraries of the Princess' palace left a special place in her heart for books. Seeing them torn and left like this was like looking at the bodies of fallen friends.

"But who would do such a thing?" she said.

"Not who, but what. A unicorn of white,
"Burst in and gave Zecora such a fright.
"Without a word, my protests she ignored,
"And in her sack, she stuffed most of my hoard.
"Now, all gone, those things I worked so hard to find!
"They are lost to a thief who must be out of her mind."

"Erm, out of her mind?" said Twilight, as Scootaloo rested on the cage, a serious look on her face.

"Out of your mind, you'd have to be,
"To steal ingredients from me!"

There was a crash – when Twilight and Zecora looked round, they were met with a small mountain of shelves and Scootaloo's head poking out of the rubble. She grinned at them apologetically.

"I had expected you to be alone,
"And this company I cannot condone.
"The matter of which I speak is rather sticky.
"And now you've made frank talk a little tricky.
"It involves the shame of a few of my friends.
"So how to achieve my secretive ends…"

Zecora tapped a hoof thoughtfully against her chin, while Scootaloo disentangled herself from the invading armies of shelves. A thought struck her.

"Trying to think of a way words might not show…
"To Twilight; acrostics do you know?
"Outsmart this young one – this we must do.
"Scootaloo; behind those chickens with you!"

A face ducked out of sight. The coding machine in Twilight's head whirred and hummed and eventually flicked on a green light.

"Oh, I see," she said, leaning closer. Scootaloo was rather offended at the sidelong glance her egghead elder threw at her.

"However, as for my stolen items, I am concerned," said Zecora.
"Easy targets live around Ponyville – or so this thief has learned.
"Now, though this thief a forest-dweller remains,
"She may yet seek out Ponyville, for magical gains.
"All magic artefact holders must beware:
"Return to Ponyville, and tell the unicorns there.
"Every magic crafter must this thief avoid…"

Scootaloo no longer pretended to be listening and idly examined the chickens in the cage. They were mostly run-of-the-mill Rhode Island breeds, except – intriguingly enough – for their combs and wattles. One of the birds had a spiky variety, yellow and orange like a spit of fire. Another had a dark blue pair swept back. The third seemed to have a lighter blue set, with streaks. All three were staring at her, which unnerved her since they'd initially been squawking like crazy.

This little filly might not have paid much attention to avian husbandry, but she was certain that an ornithologist would have something to say about coloured wattles.

There was a box next to the cage. While the "big" ponies were still talking, the young pegasus nonchalantly swung a foreleg over to it and pulled it behind the cage. Biting the lids, she pulled them back one at a time and peered inside, and was rather alarmed to see the box peering back at her.

Once she'd calmed herself down, she peered inside again. What she'd mistaken for eyes were goggles – three of them, piled one on top of another. Beneath them, she saw folded garments, mostly blue with a hint of yellow. She had a nagging suspicion – no offence to nags, she thought hastily – that she recognised that pattern…

What was Zecora doing with this stuff?

"Before disaster strikes again," continued the herbalist.
"Otherwise, to be extra cautious, this I propose:
"Legends tell of an ancient custom that arose…
"Twilight, if magic artefacts are missing from your list,
"Sly Zecora knows a pony that can assist."

Both done, Twilight and Zecora shot a joint-look over at Scootaloo, who had returned to leaning over the bird cage to eavesdrop. To little purple eyes, it was like being hit by an arrow with a sucker on the end.

The mystical zebra frowned impressively. At least Scootaloo had the grace to hide her blush.

"I'll think about it," said Twilight, the verbal equivalent of writing a memo where everyone could see it. "In the meantime, I suggest you add some strong security around your house with some magic." Her horn flushed with light and the saddlebags flopped open, books rising like butterflies from the depths. "This one I'd recommend – Magical Protection for Mundane Ponies. It has a section on herbs near the back. And I'd move those chickens and give them to someone to look after. I'm not sure keeping them locked up in one cage is healthy."

"Of course," said Zecora, as the three books laid themselves out gently before her. "This I will do.
"Bye bye for now, Twilight and Scootaloo."

"Time to get you home, Scoots," said Twilight, turning for the door. She paused while Scootaloo dawdled over to her side, muttering about being incognito and therefore nameless.

As they were heading out to face the Everfree Forest, Scootaloo finally had her revelation. That was where she had seen that pattern. Of course! The Wonderbolts! The costumes, the funny colours of the birds' wattles – it all clicked into place.

"I didn't know Zecora was a Wonderbolt fan," she said. "Otherwise, I'd have invited her to one of their rallies."

---

The brass band came to a close. Through the crowd went Hayseed and Sweetie Belle, balancing all the toys they'd won on their backs.

"That was the greatest fun I ever had!" she said, still wearing the manticore suit.

"Ah had a great time too. It's been a long time since Ah been to a fair. But it looks like the clock's a-turnin', an' Ah said Ah'd take yer back ter yer sister at midnight."

"Aw, can't we do one more fun thing before we go? Pretty please, please, please?"

Hayseed lifted up his top hat and scratched around his green cap before replacing the top hat over it. He received a face full of shiny eyes, and a wobbling pout that suggested the owner had learned a thing or two about manipulative cuteness from watching puppies.

"Aw, shucks, why not? One more fun thin' at the fair ain't gonna hurt none. Yer got anythin' in mind?"

Sweetie Belle pointed down a side street, where a few wooden stalls had together conspired to create a market. One of them was hosted by three fillies, one pale, the others two shades of pink.

"What do you mean he hasn't turned up yet?" said Daisy.

"Nopony's picked up the bouquet," said Lily.

"But he pre-ordered it."

"Well, we can't wait until tomorrow. If they don't come now, we'll have to get rid of the Delicious Daisies," said Rose. All three hung their heads.

"Oh, how tragic!" said Lily to the darkening sky.

"What a waste of lovely flowers," said Rose sadly. "My bad luck just keeps building up."

"The ladder!" shouted Lily, clutching Rose's face. "The ladder!"

"And we worked so hard to get the arrangement right, too," said Daisy.

The town clock of New Alicornia chimed the hour, and the ripple spread throughout the town. As it crossed over their street, Sweetie Belle and Hayseed went from one end of the crowd to the other, and were now laughing at the fun they'd had within the last five minutes. Sweetie Belle gathered herself up enough to look at the clock, and the alarm leapt onto her face.

"Oh no," she said. "We're going to be late."

"Heap o' horsefeathers!" Hayseed put a hoof to his buck teeth. "You're righ'!"

"Come on, let's try this alleyway. It looks like it might be a short cut."

They both ducked into the alleyway. Square shadows of darkness covered it, and the grey ground did not glow under their steps, which provided a strong contrast with the main streets they'd left. The buzz of the crowd died down behind them. Side alleys split away from the main one, and occasionally they turned and followed one or two branches. Soon, they were walking in complete silence.

"Hm, that's strange," said Sweetie Belle, treading softly. "I can't hear anything."

"Uh, Sweetie Belle? Ah don't wanna alarm you, but, but Ah think we migh' be a bit lost."

They looked through the criss-crossing streets, but there wasn't a pony in sight. Most of the road was obscured by the shadows, and the tall buildings around them made it impossible to see landmarks like the clock tower.

"Oh no, that's OK. We just simply have to go back the way we came. We'll find another way round," said Sweetie Belle, and Hayseed nodded.

Sweetie looked ahead at the sound of a front door opening and shutting. It bounced off the frame and hung open.

A pair of glowing green eyes opened in the shadow of one of the houses. They blinked, and the pupil slits grew until the eyes were dark pearls rimmed with emerald. Something growled. They saw bared teeth shining like ivory. Sweetie Belle began backing away quickly.

"Uh…" said Hayseed through chattering buck teeth, also backing away, "m-maybe it's just a stray d-dawggie?"

"Yyyyyyoooooouuuu'rrrrrrreeeeee nnnnnooooootttttt hhhhheeeeeeeeere!" said a voice. Sweetie Belle quailed – it had sounded like two throats had been horribly mangled in a cart accident. It moved forwards – they heard the patter of giant paws on paving slabs.

The eyes rose higher when whatever it was stood up tall.

"Ggggggeeeettttt ooooooouuuuuuutttttt nnnnoooooowwwwww!"

---

"Number Seventeen, you're on. Grab your partner and go."

"But," stammered Rarity, "my partner isn't here yet! Oh, isn't there some way we could delay this? Just give me a few minutes. I-I'm sure she'll be here soon."

"No more delays," said the backstage manager. "It's go on now or don't go on at all."

"Go on? B-by myself? I-In front of Hoity Toity?" Rarity felt her knees trying to become a new kind of percussive instrument. She gulped and peered through the curtains towards the stage.

"Number Seventeen?" said the prompt.

Rarity grinned nervously behind the curtain. She hadn't expected the turnout to be so… illustrious. She could make out ponies she'd idolised as a foal. In the front row, on the panel of judges, Hoity Toity looked at his cuffs as though checking his watch. The stage persistently and blatantly continued not having Rarity on it.

"I can't go out there," she whispered to herself. "I can't go out there. I can't go out there. Oh, Sweetie Belle, where are you?"

"Number Seventeen?"

From the other side of the stage, a manager waved at her. She took a deep breath, resupplying her fear with fresh oxygen, and bit her lip. She was starting to sweat. From behind her, several of the candidates were looking up to see what the hold-up was.

She tried not to shut her eyes.

"Number Seventeen."

---

Sweetie Belle trembled. From the shadows, something lunged, stood tall in front of them, and threw a howling roar at the sky.

The roar was cut off by a bolas that snatched at the long jaws, knocking the thing back into the shadows. Both Sweetie Belle and Hayseed looked around, just in time to see a figure silhouetted atop a nearby roof, framed by a beam of moonlight, lowering a wing.

Whatever lurked in the shadows growled, and claws snatched against slabs. The first figure braced her legs and sprang down on top of it, or at least would have done if her adversary hadn't been quicker. A flash of shadow rushed down the row of houses and round the corner. The newcomer moved, but stopped at the corner and peered round before giving an exasperated growl of her own.

Relief flooded into Sweetie Belle as though warm rain was falling down her back.

"Yay!" she cried. "That was spectacular! Do it again! Do it again!"

To her alarm, the figure spotted her and both wings shot out and raised themselves, poised like twin snakes. Sweetie Belle backed away and ran to hide behind Hayseed's legs.

"Friend or foe?" said a voice, in a tone that suggested being a friend was just like being a foe but with more letters. Hayseed swallowed a lump of spit.

"Ah'd like a friend, please, if yer can get one."

"What's the password, friend?"

"Uh," he ventured. "Is this, er, one of them trick questions?"

"Ah, so you've been around the block before, eh, laddie?" said the figure, moving through the shadow towards them. "I don't bother with passwords. Any fool with paper and pen and a barnload of patience could crack a password. If it's not foolproof, it's not spy proof. In any case, I keep getting passwords mixed up. Have so many now, I have to write down passwords on post-its just so's I can access the files that keep the passwords for the files containing the passwords. That's if I don't mix them up with my receipts and lose one at the coffee shop."

She sniffed, still staring at them, and lowered her wings. Sweetie Belle poked a head around Hayseed's legs.

"Did you," she began, still trying to muster up some courage. "Did you say… that you were… a spy?"

The pony walked out of the shadows. An orange mane, smooth and luxuriant, swished back and forth over equally carrot-coloured eyes, which were locked in a frown as permanent as Arctic Circle frost.

"Well, now, I could answer that question," she said. "But then I'd have to… I'd have to… well, I'd have to do something to you. Can't remember what it was though. Probably sign you up or something."

They couldn't stop staring at her outfit.

"Who are you?" said Sweetie Belle in awe. "Can you tell us?"

"Not likely," she said. A wing was raised and she leaned forwards conspiratorially. "But here's a bit of advice, lassie. If you ever want to be cut out for a spy, there are two ways to go about it. Either you dress up like one and glue yourself to a cut-out book for kiddies, or you get yourself a proper guide on how to do it, eh? Nice disguise, by the way."

Then, she tucked up and rolled backwards into the shadows – impressive, but singularly useless considering it would have been faster to walk – and came up with a foreleg raised. It bore a grappling hook loaded into a barrel strapped to her leg.

"You didn't see anything!" she boomed, and pressed the trigger.

The hook spat out and plopped onto the ground three feet away.

Sweetie Belle and Hayseed watched for a long while before the pegasus dropped her dramatic pose and checked the mechanism, looking slightly flustered, which is impressive considering she was still locked in the Arctic Circle perma-frown. Again, she pressed the trigger, and began reeling in the length of rope.

"You especially didn't see that," she said, once it had fully retracted. She spread her wings and leapt over them, and before they could turn around to watch her, she had vanished over the rooftops. They could still hear her hooves bounding from chimney to chimney before the sounds died away.

"Well, she seemed real friendly," said Hayseed. "An' so professional!"

Sweetie Belle didn't respond: she was lost in her own thoughts, and liking what she was thinking.

"I didn't know there were real spies," she said eventually, an excited squeak leaping out of her voice. "That is so awesome! Wait until I tell Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. They're going to be so amazed!"

One of the clock tower bells chimed, marking a quarter past midnight. Both of them shook themselves out of their private speculations and glanced around the alleyway.

"C'mon, Rarity's waitin' on us. Ah think it's this way," he said, pointing at a random side street. They began walking, Sweetie Belle in the opposite direction until Hayseed waved a hoof in front of her face to distract her from her daydreams.

---

It had been playing music at him. Brief snatches of a classical piece, he suspected, by the Royal Canterlot Orchestra. It went back to the beginning again and dragged like feet over a well-trodden path. The tune would haunt him forever.

Middle Hoof let his gaze wander until the bubble of dark blue ether twitched and he could faintly see the glowing unicorn horn. All sound ceased.

A distorted voice came through. It said: "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"As you requested," said Middle Hoof in a rugged voice that hadn't slept well, "I have searched every corner and centre of the town. Whoever this pony is, he – or should I say she – is one careful character. They must have known we were coming."

"What makes you say that?"

"We couldn't find the artefact, whatever it was. They never appeared."

"Unless they somehow smuggled it in. Never mind that now. I hardly think they would resort to street-level conjuring tricks. And what of the materials?"

"Begging your forgiveness, but is it really necessary to talk so enigmatically? It's not like any pony's listening."

"No! This is supposed to be a cryptic conversation between ponies! We'll do this properly! Besides, given how experimental this new unicorn technology is–"

"UniTech."

"Yes, thank you, Middle Hoof. Given how experimental it is, I'd rather not take that chance."

"It seems a tad unnecessary, though–"

"Aw, pleeeeeeaase, Middle Hoof?"

He sighed. Sometimes he wondered what the mental age of his employer actually was.

"That's better. Now, where was I?"

"Something about street-tricks," he said.

"Oh yes. And what of the materials?"

"Gathering the 'materials' as we speak, but we expect all unicorns to cooperate soon enough. It shouldn't come to that, though."

"But it might."

"It shouldn't, though."

"But. It. Might."

Middle Hoof blinked. "…It shouldn't though."

"Oh, for Celestia's sake, do you always have to get the last word in?"

"No."

"Yes you do, you just did!"

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did! End of! Now. Where were we?"

"You were saying it shouldn't come to that," said Middle Hoof, in a voice now training to become the next Reginald Jeeves.

"Oh yes. Don't want to have to test our limits. Hm. Speaking of which, I wonder if Twilight Sparkle might be worth investigating."

"The apprentice?"

"Do not underestimate her power. And remember: she is very close to Princess Celestia. If I wanted power, I'd go to her first."

Cue the fascinated eyebrow, he thought. He even timed its procession up his employer's forehead. "You want me to knock on her door and ask her?"

"No. I shall deal with her indirectly. Continue performing your duty and stay in New Alicornia. Report any odd goings-on when they come up."

"Your request is my duty, as always."

"Hm. Tell me, do you practise that stony-faced expression in the mirror?"

"Every morning."

"You have the stoic minion manner to absolute perfection."

"Try being Hoity Toity's agent during his early years and see what happens to your tendency to show emotion."

"Fare well."

"I shall indeed."

The bubble fizzled out, stranding him in semi-darkness. With great satisfaction – though with much less polish than Hoity Toity could achieve – Middle Hoof adjusted his own cuffs and smoothed down the creases in his hemlock green jacket. Orders: there was something comforting about them, like letting your body fall into the flows of a thick padded safety mattress. Menial chores were his art, the world his canvas, and while he worked on it the job was bliss.

He cast a look back at the pillars. Now, if only he could get that blasted Piano Concerto Equestria out of his head…

---

"Sweetie Belle! Hayseed! Wherever have you two been?"

Inside the dressing room, pacing back and forth before a row of mirrors and several excessively frilly poufs, Rarity gave Sweetie Belle the impression of being trapped in a cage with a rather effeminate Siberian tiger. Hayseed loitered at the doorway, knocking one leg against another and avoiding everyone's eye.

"You're over an hour late! I had to pull out of tonight's show because I was one helper short, and now look what you've cost me! I told you not a minute later!"

"We tried to get back in time," said Sweetie Belle, wishing she didn't feel so stupid in her manticore outfit. "Honest, we did. But we was chased down an alley. There was–"

"We was? We WAS?" Rarity brandished her horn over her sister's head. "My word, what on Celestia's honour have you picked up? Is it catching? Urgh! I give you a little sweet indulgence, and this is how you repay me? I thought we had an understanding, Sweetie Belle."

Hayseed backed out the door, biting his lip. A quick "ahem" made him shoot back into view again. Rarity swallowed down her anger, as she had just noticed in the mirror that it was disturbing her curls.

"But we really were…" he began.

"Thank you, Hayseed; that will be all."

His head drooped. To Sweetie's surprise, so did Rarity's. She leaned forwards and peered beneath Rarity's hanging locks.

The downcast look Sweetie saw her adopt hurt even more than the ranting had done. She opened her trembling mouth to speak.

"I am very disappointed in you both," said Rarity, who raised her head again. "Sweetie Belle, to bed. Now." She was frowning at the bulbs on the mirror frame. Ears fell either side of Sweetie's mane. Slowly, she turned on the spot and dragged her hooves towards the door.

"Night, Hayseed," mumbled Sweetie Belle, as she passed him in the doorway. He only looked on helplessly. Rarity waited until they had both shut the door behind them.

Then she exploded into a mini-dance and screamed at her reflection.

---

To be continued…

Comments

[Impossible Numbers]

Hi, guys. Thanks for the encouraging comments. It's great to see people enjoying the story. :twilight:smile:

Comment 6: It's kind of a punny gag. Hot pink is an actual shade of color, and the TV Tropes character page said Scoots' mane was hot pink. I looked it up on the Wikipedia, and it turns out hot pink is a symbolic color used in the gay pride movements. I just noticed Scoots was being particularly aggressive and 'flamboyant' with her fighting, so I couldn't resist. As for the forelock, I'm correcting that: it should be forehead. And I guess I am strange anyway. :derp:smile:

I appreciate this kind of feedback, as I want to become a better writer and I can get away with editing stuff online. Thanks again, and enjoy the next chapter!

[UseFistNotMouth]

Oh, I see. Scootaloo's mane is not actually hot pink though <that's hot pink, it's fuschia.

Not sure why this story isn't more hyped. It's really quite good considering it's randomness. 4.5 stars currently from me.

[Impossible Numbers]

LOL, it looks like I derped. Can't tell hot pink from fuchsia.fimfiction.net/images/emoticons/derpytongue2.png

fimfiction.net/images/emoticons/applejackunsure.png Well, I can't let a joke go if it rests on a mistake like that. I'll have to take it down in case it confuses more readers. Thanks for pointing that out to me.fimfiction.net/images/emoticons/twilightsmile.png

[Impossible Numbers]

This thing is six years overdue for an update. Much as I've resisted doing it, I think it's about time I admitted it's not going anywhere anytime soon. As of now, I'm setting the status of this fic to cancelled. I'll remove the status only if I ever actually come back to continue it.