The Odyssey [Part II]
They reached Trottingham at a less sensible time of morning than Key would have liked. The now familiar thunder on the door made him turn in his hammock, and Oval burst in to shake him awake. He rolled out of the hammock and on to the floor with a whack, forgetting that he moved the blanket next to Oval's hammock, earning a giggle from her.
On deck, the bridge towers dwarfed the Crusader. They'd already lost most of their speed from a circuit of the islands, leaving them nearly ready to dock. The towers of the bridge served as piers, and each of them had half a dozen ships already anchored to them. The lights Key had seen from afar were lanterns twice the height of the ponies standing next to them. One of the ships was untethering and setting off, and Applebloom had her eye on its berth. Sweetie Belle stood on the prow with a pair of red and yellow flags, that she moved to fixed angles around her every couple of seconds, and when she stopped, someone on one of the towers waved a similar pair of flags back at her.
"Remind me to teach you kids semaphore some time," Applebloom called from the quarterdeck. "You've got better eyes than us."
The Crusader circled again, and they watched from the bows to get a look at the city. Each half was easily bigger than home. The bridge itself looked like it was in tatters, held together more with rope than the structural integrity of the stone, but the ponies were confident enough to be holding a market on it. Though the bridge towers dominated the skyline, smaller towers clustered around them. Some were pre-Sundering spires with gothic arches, and some were newer improvised constructions, like one house had been uprooted and placed on top of another, and then another on to that, until they rivalled the earlier buildings in height. Some of the streets were invisible from the crowding of the buildings. Beams and bridges ran between them for stability and more living space. Further away from the bridge towers, there were courtyards and gardens and heat lamps, delineated by the meagrest stone paths.
After twenty minutes of impatient flag signalling and circling Trottingham, the berth was free for the Crusader to occupy. It chugged up to the tower, and Scootaloo jumped from the crow's nest to take a rope. Some of the ponies on the top of the tower started shouting things to each other and pointing at Scootaloo. One of them ran inside. Scootaloo dropped the rope.
"Applebloom, I don't think they're too happy to see me!"
"Ugh, landsakes... take the wheel!"
Oval frowned. "What's going on? Why are they-"
"Get down!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Key spotted the row of archers on the pier. He jumped on Oval's back to push her to the floor before she could ask another question. Several reverberating wooden thuds came from the quarterdeck. When they looked up, arrows stuck out of the guard rail and banister. Applebloom and Scootaloo had ducked behind the guard rail. Sweetie Belle sprinted from her cover behind the forecastle and grabbed Key and Oval as she passed, diving into the cabin before the next barrage.
"What's happening?"
Sweetie Belle panted. "I don't know, jumpy guards? Let me check." She hung out of the open door. "They're just firing on the helm, I... Applebloom!"
Key dived low to get a look out the door and Oval stood over him. Applebloom had jumped from the deck to the pier, barely making it - one hoof was still dangling off - but still earning the attention of the archers. "Don't shoot!" she shouted. The rest of the conversation was too quiet to hear, but the guards lowered their bows, and soon, Applebloom sighed with relief, and waved a beckoning hoof to the ship.
She took the thrown ropes to tie the ship down, and hopped on board when satisfied. She went straight up to the quarterdeck, where Scootaloo was picking arrows out of the boards.
"What's up? Why did they fire?"
"They've had some pirate raids in the last few weeks, they're just jumpy around pegasi. But uh, they're not gonna let you come ashore."
Scootaloo's posture deflated. "Really? Serious?"
"I'm sorry, Scoot. They've got all the local pegasi under house arrest. They're wound up tighter than a sail winch in a storm."
Scootaloo threw her head back and groaned. "Yep, that's good ol' Trottingham red tape." She jumped over the banister to return to the cabin. "Go ahead without me, I won't keep you." The door slammed, and the four remaining on deck looked at each other silently.
After packing some day supplies, they disembarked. With the guards having returned to their normal posts, the top of the tower was all sailors and crates and barrels. Ropes kept vessels ranging from antique Canterlot airships to motorised piles of junk tethered to the poles on the dock. Another ship, like the Crusader but much larger, was unloading pallets of food by crane, and smaller crates were being hammered shut and carried on board on horseback. A stallion and a pregnant mare stood nearby, sharing a sober goodbye. Sweetie Belle ushered Key along so as not to get too far behind the others.
In the middle of the tower was the door to the stairs down, through ancient stonework. The steep spiral led them to a recently renovated room with bollards and tape creating a path around it, leading to a grated window at the other end. A queue of bored sailors and travellers reached back through half of the room, and it was impossible to tell if it was moving at all. There was no way to leave the room without waiting in line for the grated windows, or hopping the fence, which the geologically-proportioned guard made Key intensely disinclined to do.
"Remember when I asked about customs?" Applebloom whispered.
"Yeah?"
"This is a customs office."
"The customs office," Sweetie Belle added. "Trottingham's makes other places look like free-for-alls."
Applebloom chuckled. "Get comfy, kids. Bring any of those books of yours?"
"Oh."
Key was quite sure the world had ended again by the time they reached the window. The terms of their stay were set out through Applebloom's conversation with the official. Duration, one day; purpose, resupply and pleasure; no unlicensed firemaking. She produced a few bottles from her saddlebags and left them in the bin under the desk, and passed a slip under the grate identifying her as a trader on behalf of Sweet Apple Acres. The official double-checked it in a ledger, then passed back the slip. After examining the bottles, he turned to a desk behind him and pulled off some slips of paper and passed them through. "Welcome to Trottingham, enjoy your stay, next," he said, with a tone rivalling Scootaloo's. They didn't linger.
The stairs continued past hallways leading to offices and barracks. Most doors had guards by them and angry signs warning unauthorised persons not to enter. A few were open and contained ponies queuing. The way out was an unassuming narrow door spilling light into the dark tower. The street outside bustled. There had to be more ponies in sight than there were in the whole village back home. Key shrank a little. Oval began to fidget, and lean her head around curiously. She tried to look closer at the market on the bridge, where the crowds were concentrated, while Key, when he wasn't staring at his hooves, kept his eyes on rooftops. Sweetie Belle dragged them to the side so they stopped standing in the doorway.
"Don't stare at things, you look like tourists!" Applebloom hissed.
Oval tilted her head. "Isn't that what we are?"
"It makes you easy targets for pickpockets." Oval went wide-eyed, then settled. "Now. I ain't your momma. We ain't gonna take you around with us on business, you're gonna have to look after yourselves." Sweetie Belle floated over a slip of paper each. Parts of it were reflective, like foil, and it was printed with an image of the bridge. Based on the mountains in the background and the lack of ships strung to the top of the towers, it must have been what it looked like before the Sundering.
"What's this?"
"Local money. Twenty pounds. Should get you lunch and something fun from the market. Remember to haggle. Meet back here in..." Applebloom looked up. They followed her gaze to the clock tower at the end of the street. "An hour. Okay?"
They nodded and stashed the money, and Applebloom and Sweetie Belle set off into the market. Once they were out of sight, Oval bounced in place, looking around again. She beamed and her tail swished. "Key, I'm not gonna lie, I might be just the littlest, tiniest bit more excited than I've ever been in my entire life."
"Great!" he chuckled, after a pause. Whenever he caught the eye of passerby, he looked at the ground or the sky.
Oval frowned. "Oh, you pick now to be shy? Come on!" She jumped behind him and pushed him towards the market. His hooves dragged and he whimpered all the way there, but he started moving.
Oval marvelled at the variety of stalls and the density of clientele, and Key watched the floor carefully, trying to distract himself from the crowd by working out how the bridge held itself together. The limited space on the bridge provided room for four rows of stalls, one along each edge, and two back-to-back down the middle, while still providing ample walking room. The bridge looked much smaller from the sky, though Key was starting to suspect that his sense of scale may need some tuning. The smells of exotic things wafted through the chill air, drawing Oval along. Spices, confections, alcohol, perfumes. Some merchants shouted about the freshness or rarity of their wares. Some had large security personnel by their stall, inevitably selling something expensive. Key reluctantly looked up every few seconds to make sure he wasn't losing her in the crowd. Every now and then she stopped suddenly to check something out in more detail. Key would bump into her, and she wouldn't notice. He'd chance a look around, briefly becoming fascinated by something he'd never seen before, but looking away as soon as he saw the merchant look his way.
One stall Oval stopped at was smaller than most of the others. It was next to one of the gaps in the bridge. The edge was fenced off, and two humourless guard ponies stood either side of a hapless pegasus wearing a jacket that said "lifeguard". Everything in the stall that caught her eye seemed old and useless - figurines, fridge magnets, snowglobes, racks and trays of knick-knacks slightly yellowed and scuffed from age. There were statues of the bridge in its heyday, distinctive black carts that Key was sure a couple of the stalls had been made from, hats emblazoned in Trottingham red, white and blue.
Oval looked past the wares to the merchant, who didn't even seem to have noticed them. He was gazing at the ground behind the table, and looked just as time-weathered as the trinkets he was selling. She cleared her throat quietly, then went over to the stall and leaned over. "Excuse me?"
"Oh! Hello. Can I help you? Something caught your eye?" His face wrinkled up in a smile. His accent was thicker than the ponies in customs, H's and R's all but vanishing.
She returned the smile and gestured around the stand. "What is all this?"
"Aha!" He stood up. "Years and years ago - probably before you were even born - ponies used to come from all over to visit Trottingham. See the great tower bridge, the Duke's treasures, the changing of the guard... all of that stuff. I used to be the proprietor of the Crest of Trottingham. Finest gift shop on the high street!" With bright eyes, he started to scoop up things and clean dust off them. "Kids would come in and you could almost tell what they'd grow up to be by what they'd demand their parents buy for them. One time I had a little colt in who'd just gotten a cutie mark with a shield on it, and he simply adored the guard figures. Or! Or, there was the time a young mare came in and just bought my entire stock of rock candy. She started chowing down on the way out. Teeth made of diamonds, that one."
He looked up and sighed. "These days, nobody comes to Trottingham on holiday anymore. Yeah, there's lots of traders coming through, but they're only here for the clocks and instruments they make at the old college, and they only want booze for themselves while they're here." He let a couple of keyrings drop into the tray with a clatter. "I can't get rid of this old junk. The city gives me this stall for free because the Duke, bless him, he's a sucker for the old days. Sometimes I think I should just pack it in and find a new line of work."
Oval furrowed her brow, then looked at Key, then back at the merchant. "Well." There were several more shades of Ponyville hinterland in her inflection than there were a moment ago. "My brother and I were passing through on a visit to this lovely ol' place, and might like some kind of keepsake. Y'think you can help us out?"
The merchant's face exploded into a grin, more sincere than the salesman's smile from before. "You're a star, lass."
They talked briefly about what they'd like, but true to his word, it didn't take long for both Key and Oval to find something they liked. Oval was drawn to a snowglobe containing a replica of the Jewels of the Duchy, and Key picked out a statuette of the bridge. The merchant gave them both keyrings and some rock candy to go with it "for making a beaten old man smile", made a show of wrapping it all in colourful paper with a ribbon, and let it all go for five pounds. Oval forewent the haggling this time.
After thanking him, wishing him well and turning to leave, Key ushered Oval into a quieter corner, near the crack and away from some of the stalls. "What's up, Key?"
His voice was low. "Can we... go inside? Or back to the ship?"
"Back to the ship? We just got here! Why would you want to go back to the ship?" Key whined and lowered his head. Oval frowned, and patted him on the back. "Wait here. I'm gonna check something." She skipped back to the gift stall, and returned a short conversation later, smile renewed. "This way. I think you'll quite like this place."
They walked around the crack to the further half of the market, and down the quieter side of it. Oval was more focussed this time, leading Key past the densest part of the market and away to the other side of Trottingham. The crowds thinned as they reached the other tower and the island proper beyond. The streets formed a maze under the packed buildings. Lanterns lit their way where shardlight wouldn't reach. Key's increasing ease was written in his posture as bustle gave way to trickle, and ponies no longer had to shout to be heard. By the time they rounded the corner, their steps echoed, mingling with isolated conversations, a puppy barking, and the distant roar of the market. The cobbles became rougher, and frost clung to a few of them, making for a treacherous walk.
Oval muttered directions to herself as she went. Left, right, and up a flight of stairs around the right side of a building, taking them on to a smaller street above street level, perpendicular to the bridge and hidden from it. This was quieter and narrower still, with wooden bridges at either end of the block leading to similar hidden streets on rooftops and public-access balconies. Halfway along this back street Oval took a step back to look at a facade across the street. An old swinging sign over the door had the shape of an open book, and books piled high behind the mucky glass of the canted bay window. "Yeah. This looks like the one."
A bell rang as they pushed the door open. The wave of air hitting them was warm, and laden with the mixed smells of old wood and paper, sugar, and something not quite familiar. One wall was entirely bookshelves, with a wheeled ladder to reach the upper shelves. The back wall's shelves were broken up by stairs up to a mezzanine with more, denser shelves, and an elevated bay below the mezzanine. There was a counter, collections of cups and pots and trays of baked sweets, and a dishevelled pony in plaid, looking like he might have been disturbed from a nap (though the paper glasses obscured his eyes). Armchairs and coffee tables were pushed to the non-shelved walls.
Key bit down on a grin as he took in the height of the shelves. "Hold me."
Oval giggled. "Now you're back to yourself."
Key play-staggered, then followed Oval to the counter. It was warmer than the rest of the room. The lenses in the plaid pony's glasses were red and blue. "Can I help you?" he said, stifling a yawn. His accent wasn't Trottingham, it was somewhere else.
"Is this, uh, Groomsbury?"
"Yep! Groomsbury's booksellers, publishers and coffee house." He whispered. "I'm not Groomsbury, I just work here."
Key leaned over. "Publishers? Like, as in publishing books? New ones?"
"Yeah! Only publishing house to survive the Sundering. It's mostly reprints and survival manuals these days, but every now and then someone fancies themselves a novelist." Key eyed the shelves again reverently.
Oval nodded. "You mentioned coffee as well?"
He frowned. "No offence, but I don't think it's in your price range. It's the real stuff. I mean, maybe you could get a taster for twenty pounds?" He held up an espresso cup, small enough to balance on the nose. Key winced.
Oval stared at the cup for a moment. "Throw in two teas and some pastries and you've got a deal." Key went wide-eyed.
The attendant inhaled deeply. "It's not like they're in any short supply, but this isn't exactly a market stand..."
"We've got thirty-five pounds and that's got to get us lunch. Now, we're probably going to buy some books anyway, but it'd nice if we could make it a one stop shop, wouldn't you think so?"
He pouted and gazed seriously at her, rubbing his chin. "Okay. Spend eight pounds or more on books and I'll give you lunch free with the coffee."
"Five."
He whimpered. "Six?"
"Deal."
They browsed books while tea and coffee were made. They skipped over most of the classics, since they'd already read them, and if they hadn't, there was no sense in getting books that they could read at home. They settled two pre-Sundering books and two new ones. One of the old ones was the fourth in a series of five, and the only one of that series that the library at home was missing. The new ones included a fantasy about some faraway intact land, and the purported autobiography of a lawbringer in newly-sundered Appleloosa.
The back of the mezzanine had a window with a view of the bridge, and a table against the window. At the right angle, they could see the clock tower at the opposite end of the bridge. They settled there to eat and kept an eye on it. The coffee was intensely bitter at the first sip, but immediately both of them felt energised. The attendant had brought sugar and steamed milk, and recommended it after trying the coffee unaltered. He had a second espresso cup, and split the taster evenly between them. Then he added liberal quantities of sugar, and milk until the ratio was even with the coffee. This made it palatable, even moreish. Unfortunately, two lattés would easily set them back over sixty pounds, which based on the number of slips of paper Applebloom got from the customs office, was more than half of what three large bottles of brandy were worth.
After eating, Oval left to check out the market some more, with their remaining nine pounds and the promise not to spend it all. Feeling bouncy, Key found it hard to concentrate on reading one book, so he browsed several. Later, Oval came to get him, her bags clanking with bottles of juice from fruits she'd never heard of, and two pounds and a couple of smaller coins. They hurried back through the market to meet Applebloom and Sweetie Belle. They only needed Oval to test her bargaining and appraisal skills in a real trading situation, and Key got her to explain to them that he'd be more comfortable - and less of a liability - if he found somewhere to stay out of the way. Agreeing, they let him go back to Groomsbury's.
He got distracted and took a walk around the quieter back streets of Trottingham on his way there. The market seemed to have the attention of almost everyone, since most of who he saw was on their way to or back from the market. The busiest place was a hotel around the corner from Groomsbury's, from which he overheard a range of peculiar accents. Further from the bridge still were the parts where buildings had been uprooted to make way for growing and herding space. A few bored-looking cows kept to themselves near the far side of the island. He sat on a fence around a carrot patch and looked at the sky. His view to either side was impeded by the hodgepodge towers, and a shard hung near the local horizon, drowning some of the stars, but he could just about make out the shape of Orion, head pointing down. He sat for a while, thinking nothing.
When he got back to Groomsbury's, someone else had taken over the shift of the pony with the two-coloured paper glasses, and Key spent the last two pounds getting some tea so he'd be let stay and read. He bounced around his selection of books so he could sample lots of things without being asked to buy them. A considerable time later, Oval returned, bouncing as she walked. She dropped ten pounds on the table for Key, saying that her help with negotiations had left the whole stop profitable enough to give them a bonus, and that they were being taken to dinner.
Oval went back to the market to spend her bonus, and Key bought one of the books he'd been leafing through that he'd become attached to. They were rounded up again as the market started to close up for the day, and they went to eat at a pub. The Executioner's Calling was at the base of one of the improvised towers, forming the original construction on which other buildings had been layered. Inside, suits of armour on pedestals by the door greeted them, with axes so big they couldn't stand vertically in the room. The ground floor had heavy stone walls and pillars holding up the wooden ceiling and the floors above, and chains served as decoration. Despite the decor, it was busy. They ate well, and the plan was to return to the ship to sleep and set off in the morning. Before they left, Key spent his last five pounds on a small bottle of rum and pocketed it.
After dinner, Sweetie Belle and Oval went straight to bed. Scootaloo was already there, from what Key guessed was boredom. Key stashed his new books and retrieved the one he was already in the middle of reading to read in the forecastle for a while with some tea, while Applebloom did some checks and tidied up.
The next morning, Key was woken up early to work out a bearing when they were casting off, and then went back to bed. The projected travel time to Manehattan was a day and a half. They had some of the mystery juice with breakfast. There was a deep orange one that was very sweet, and the grey-gold one had a peculiar flavour. Key wasn't too keen on the green one, but Oval quite liked it. After taking inventory to make sure they hadn't been burgled at the dock, Oval spent most of the day in her cabin, working on the chess pieces. By mid-afternoon, she was asking Key every time he came back from calibrations how far they were from Manehattan. After dinner, they played chess while conducting a conversation through the crystal. Their local time had slipped enough that they were just making lunch at home. Oval went to sleep, Key read until he heard Applebloom turning in, and he went on deck. He brought a saddlebag.
Scootaloo slumped over the side of the crow's nest when he arrived. He couldn't find her at first, only when he stood on the prow and looked up.
"What are you doing up there?" he called after a minute.
She didn't respond right away. She sighed, then called back. "Perching. Featherbrain habit."
"I have something for you and I can't give it to you if you're up there."
"Is it racial prejudice?"
Key frowned. "I wouldn't need you to come down to give you that."
"Racial violence then!"
"Just get down from there and let me give you a thing."
Scootaloo groaned, and jumped off. Key backed up, and she landed with more of a four-hoofed thud than a graceful touchdown. Key fished the rum out of his saddlebag, and nearly dropped it. Scootaloo caught it in her hooves, then sat looking at the bottle.
"I uh... I felt kinda bad about having to leave you behind in Trottingham. So I got you something while we were there." He scratched behind his head, staring at the floor.
"Aw...." Scootaloo looked up, now grinning. "You didn't have to do that. C'mere, kid." He yelped when she grabbed him around the neck to hug him. "I shouldn't really be drinking on watch... but one can't hurt. It'll help pass the time. Let me just get glasses."
"Glasses? It's yours."
"Sad is she who drinks alone!" she shouted from the cabin door. She returned shortly with a couple of small glasses on wing, that together might have held the volume of one of the espresso cups from earlier. She brought them to the forecastle to use it as a table. With reverent care, she poured each shot glass and resealed the bottle. "Cheers!" She grabbed the glass at the rim with her mouth, threw her head back, swallowed, and deposited the glass in place again. Key attempted the same. The burning taste made him drop the glass on its way back down, and it bounced and rolled on its side. Scootaloo stopped it with a hoof before it rolled away on to the deck.
He came away squinting and coughing. The spices made his eyes water, but there was still a fruity sweetness despite the sharpness. Scootaloo giggled. "Y'okay there?" She patted him on the back, and he nodded.
"Just... stronger than I expected."
"Goes well mixed with things, but sometimes it's good enough to drink straight. Applebloom thinks I'm crazy."
Key thumped his front a couple of times. "Ah-hah." While he recovered, she put the glasses away, and stored the bottle in her cabin.
When she returned, she jumped on the quarterdeck guard rail and sat along it, cat-like. "I'm feeling a lot better now. Thanks."
Key blushed and kicked the floor. "Does this kind of thing happen often?" he asked after a moment. "Like, being treated differently for being a pegasus?"
"Enough that it's not surprising. When places get hit by pirates a couple of times they start looking at everyone with wings as a threat. Usually it's small villages like yours where they might never have seen a pegasus before, but a city like Trottingham... they must have had some pretty bad raids recently."
Key sat, looking at the floor again. "I'm sorry..."
"Hey, don't be. This kinda thing works all ways. You think Canterlot can go around doing what they do and not give unicorns a bad name? They're usually pretty surgical, but every now and then one gets away, and you can bet that pony's gonna be terrified of magic for the rest of their life. And as for earth ponies, well, we've stayed in places where they wouldn't believe Applebloom was anything other than heavy lifting. Her, you and your sister are probably the smartest ponies in this tub, but sooner or later you're gonna meet a pony who slows down when they talk to you."
"Oh." Key furrowed his brow. He sat, staring at his nose.
"It doesn't feel good, does it? When someone's made up their mind about you before you open your mouth."
He rubbed his forehead. "I... I should have got you something else."
"What?"
He paused to think about his words. "The idea for the rum was... an old friend told me that pegasi like rum. Now that I think about it, that's no better than assuming you're a pirate. Guess I'm not helping my own stereotype there..."
"Oh, that?" Scootaloo giggled. "I didn't even know, I was raised by earth ponies. I mean, I can see where you're coming from with the panic, but don't sweat it." Key chuckled, but still averted his eyes. "I thought you'd just been paying attention to what I'd been ordering. Don't beat yourself up." He moved to the bow, sat, and looked up, releasing a sigh. "Key," Scootaloo said after a moment.
"Hm?"
"Think about it this way. If you get to know who I am more than what I am, then that's all I'm really asking. Does that make sense?"
"Yes! Yeah." His smile was still half-hearted. "I'll do that next time."
By the end of the night watch, Manehattan was visible. From this distance it appeared to be solid masses of towers clustered on rocks that couldn’t fit them, held together with bridges and chains. It was like Baltimare and Trottingham mixed together and multiplied, only teeming with ship traffic and smoke and lights. Ships moved in nearly every direction, radiating from the growing rock in the distance. In his focus Key nearly missed the one heading directly towards them until it was upon them. Scootaloo yelled at him for a bit, and he made sure to pay more attention to traffic after that.
Oval came to wake him in the morning. It wasn't too early, but her energy still gave him a brief sense of panic. He sat up in his hammock, unbalancing himself and throwing himself to the floor.
"You're gonna have to start sleeping down there. You just can't crack this hammock thing." Key muffled some curses into the floorboards. "Now come on! You have to see this!"
Rubbing his nose, he stumbled after Oval to the deck. The distant clusters of spires had grown to dominate their view. The sheer size of them made Key shrink back through the door at first. He had thought they were nearly docked from how large the city loomed in front of them, only to physically crumple slightly when he spotted a pony on the dock to get a sense of the scale. The towers were broken like the ones in Baltimare, but these ones had been repaired, either by stitching the original top on with very obvious cement seams, or building the upper floors anew, where Art Deco grooves and pedestals gave way to simple bare brick. There were at least three islands, possibly more on the far side, held together with bridges and struts all the way up. Wide cart bridges joined the gaps at the bottom, demarcating canals below for ship traffic, while footbridges joined skyscrapers higher up.
Larger ships anchored on piers sticking out of the sides, while smaller dinghies weaved between the buildings. Some tiny ones were fixed at windows. One window opened all the way, and a pony wearing a cap jumped out and into the seat of one of these aerial jet skis. Someone put a flat square box on to the back, and it sped away to somewhere else in the city, leaving a trail of smoke. Around the outside of the city, micro-islands with lighthouses sat at a distance, held to the city with great chains. He could see five, and suspected a sixth: one they had just passed, two either side, one above, one below, and a probable one on the far side.
Sweetie Belle came past them with a green flag. She stood on the prow and started waving.
"No semaphore?"
"Manehattan has their own system. They've got dockers who'll tow you in. It's a traffic light system: green if you can pay, yellow if you can't but still need help, red if you're going to dock yourself."
Key frowned and looked again at the docks. One pier had as many vessels on it as Trottingham had in its entirety. “I can see why the help’s there."
After a couple of minutes, Key spotted something flying towards them. Sweetie Belle lowered the flag and jumped back to the deck. A pegasus dropped from flight on to the prow, and slipped clumsily down a few paces, before coming to a stop on the deck. She regained her composure by shaking her head, and lifting blue fringe out of her eyes. She had a pair of steel cables coiled around saddle-mounted winches under her pale gold wings. She was still panting. "You need a tow, yeah?" He could have sworn that accent was Trottingham.
"Yep. You take brandy?" Sweetie Belle floated the hatch off.
The dock pony put a hoof to her mouth and frowned. "Do you have any tea?"
"Just back from Trottingham."
"Brill! Couple of pounds should do." She took the winches off the saddle. With Sweetie Belle's help, she started tying them around the guard rail either side of the forecastle, while Scootaloo jumped into the hold. She waited on the prow for three small bags to float out of the hatch, and she stashed them in bags hitched under where the winches on her saddles were. "Sit tight, we're bringing you in!"
She jumped off the prow and flew away, using the cables as a guide back to the dock. Applebloom folded the sails and the cables pulled tight, followed by a brief sway of momentum as the apparatus took the Crusader's weight.
Key retreated under the overhang of the quarter deck as they got closer, and the shadows of the buildings swallowed them. A small dinghy flew overhead, hitched itself to the back of the ship, and began pulling in the opposite direction to slow it down. More dock pegasi tied cables on the back as they passed the end of the pier, and when they pulled taut, the ship had stopped. The cables were unhitched, and Scootaloo helped the dockers manually push the ship to a berth and tie it down.
Sweetie Belle dug out a pallet and started packaging supplies on it. Scootaloo jumped ashore, and Applebloom called Key and Oval over. "Alright. Manehattan ain't no quaint little hideaway like Trottingham."
Key winced. "That was a quaint little hideaway?"
"Manehattan is the biggest city in the Debris, and you're a couple of small town kids. You gotta keep your wits about you. Ain't nobody in charge here, and everything's for sale. Stay close to us and you'll be okay. If you get lost, don't look for us, come right back here and wait. Stick to open spaces and crowds." Key whimpered. "This ain't a pleasure stop. We're gonna trade off these clocks, look for Spike, and get out. You hear?"
Oval nodded seriously. "Loud and clear." She nudged Key, and then he nodded. Scootaloo returned, followed by a unicorn in a roughed-up red coat. Oval tilted her head. "Who's he?"
Scootaloo chuckled. "Security. Did you think I was gonna pass up a chance to stretch my legs?"
Sweetie Belle started wrapping up the supplied with sheeting, and tying a rope from the pallet to one of the guard rails. "Simple, really. The docks rent out guards to watch your ship while you do your business. You leave out their pay, and when you come back, it's theirs. If they double-cross you, take it up with the dockers, and boom goes their business."
“That’s a serious honour system.”
“It didn’t always work this way.”
The stranger pulled an apple out of a bag on the pallet before it was wrapped up. He threw it up in the air, and his horn lit up. A streak of formless black that cast a shadow on everything nearby swept up and met it as it fell. The black vanished, and he caught the split apple halves, singed where they'd been split. He brushed the ash off the cut face, and took a bite. When he noticed Key and Oval watching him like a circus performer, he offered a quirked brow and a smile and went back to eating. Sweetie Belle grumbled and covered over the bag of apples.
Applebloom and Sweetie Belle signed some paperwork while Key and Oval got their bags. Oval returned to the deck to find Key hadn’t followed her. When she returned to their cabin, Key lay limp by his hammock, face buried in a pillow. She frowned and poked him. "Come on. What's the matter?"
"I'm not sure I can do it."
"What?"
He lifted his head up, revealing his blush. "Crowds. Busy places. More strangers than there are ponies back home."
Oval sat. "Are you afraid of crowds?"
"I don't know... it doesn't feel like fear. Back in the market in Trottingham it felt like I didn't have room to breathe, like... it was overwhelming. That's the word. Like I needed to get out of there to cool off, or just sit down and cover my head, only here it might mean putting myself in danger, and... ugh."
She stepped over and hugged him. "I can't say I'm surprised, with your tendency to hang out on the wharf and in derelict houses." He went to stand up, but Oval was standing on his scarf, and his head jerked back. She backed up. "Sorry! Sorry, I didn't know I... wait a second..." She picked up the tail of the scarf. "If I..." She pushed him into a proper upright sitting position. She adjusted his scarf until one tail was much longer than the other, about as long as his body. She then did the same with her own scarf, and as efficiently as possible, tied the two scarves together at the end.
"What are you doing?"
"Here.” She tugged on the scarves, and the knot held. “If you start to panic, I'll know right away, and we can do something about it. How does that sound?"
Key smiled, took a breath and nodded. "Okay. I'll give it a go."
The first stop was the ship-chandler's at the edge of the docks. They loaded up a trolley with a small box plastered with "fragile" tape and the empty rockets, and wheeled it there. A banner inside proclaimed that the establishment was celebrating a hundred years in business, but Applebloom quietly mentioned that it had been up there for at least eight years, since the first time she came here, and she suspected that it may in fact be pre-Sundering. Key and Oval untied their scarves so Key could wander around the shop while Oval negotiated with the chandler. Racks of sails, reels of rope, and buckets of gears and winches and pulleys and things lined the walls. Display cases contained unboxed navigation instruments, ranging from simple devices like the Crusader’s set, to prestige possessions made of gold and silver and polished to perfection.
Key lost himself in the maps part of the shop. The display had been rearranged to highlight star charts, almanacs, and booklets of navigation data for frequently trafficked places. A bin contained out-of-date copies of the same data. Behind those, a few maps of the seas around old Equestria had been left up and were yellowing badly. Some smaller tubes had a sign saying "just take 'em". He shrugged, and slipped a copy of the most interesting map into his bag.
While this was happening, the instruments had been traded for a pair of spare sails, some sail gears, and a refill of the two rockets. Oval looked particularly pleased as they left, and re-tied their scarves. Scootaloo asked why they were doing that, and Oval said it was so they didn't lose Key to a distraction. Key glared and nudged her, and then she explained the real reason.
Key stayed close to Oval as they entered the city proper. Everywhere was noise. The sky bustled as much as the streets, with personal vehicles and pegasus-pulled taxi carts passing overhead, and sky bridges and multiple levels of streets carrying busy ponies to where they had to be. Street vendors sold everything from hats to hot dogs. A couple of lifeguards helped a pony with a crutch back to the street. Oval imagined that this was what Baltimare looked like when it was alive. Key imagined Baltimare to keep himself calm.
They soon moved from the old seafront to the new shipyards. The air had an acrid scent to it, and many of the buildings had black stains on the walls. None of these buildings were originally industrial - cafés had been converted into workshops, galleries into forges. (Bars had been largely left as they were.) Most ponies here had hard hats, and flat-bedded carts on the street carried large chunks of earth, logs, and bins of scrap metal. A crane held the assembled skeleton of a ship aloft, and some pegasi were transferring it to a track that ran over the street. They quickened their pace when the shadow crossed their path.
Applebloom led them to a small warehouse with a large open shutter. They could see that it was pouring out hot air before they could feel it. The steam rose above the street until it lost the attraction of gravity and formed a growing cloud somewhere at the upper levels of the skyscrapers around them. A trolley with four long tanks with nozzles at the end rolled out, and the shutter rolled down again once it was clear, cutting off the flow of hot air.
Inside the rocket factory, it was easy to see why this district was so smoke-choked and ash-stained. While Applebloom talked to the foreman, Key looked around, feeling bold enough to stare from the shadows they stood in. It was part foundry, part refinery. Most of the light came from the hot metal being hammered into the shape of rocket hulls, and the fires of the furnaces that produced that heat. The silhouettes of ponies and some other hulking figures walked around, working. Some light came from the far end of the hall, where every now and then flames of some colour or another would shoot out, lighting up tanks, catwalks and pipes, and occasionally some elongate, pointy face, with smoke pouring from its nose. The first flare made Key jump and shy back, but after that he kept watching, trying to get a glimpse of what he was sure was a dragon, and not just what he thought was one.
When Applebloom finished talking, they left. Spike did work there, she said, but his shift had just ended, and he wasn't on-site. Reasoning that it couldn't be hard to spot a dragon wandering around, they split up. Scootaloo took to the air to do a sweep of the streets, Applebloom went back to the ship to fetch the carcass to take to the city university, while Sweetie Belle took Key and Oval to the park to stay out of trouble. The park showed the same collapse of organisation as Baltimare's botanical gardens, with lawns overrun by weeds and broadleaf trees very clearly suffering while conifers held up fine. None of it was converted to growing land, and nobody had much business here save for passing through. Key appreciated the quiet.
After some tales of how Sweetie Belle's sister used to do business in Manehattan from time to time, and what the diamond district used to be like before the crash in luxuries trade with the Sundering, and some exploration of the dried up lakes and crumbling monuments, they met up with Applebloom and Scootaloo back at the docks. The university had no idea what the carcass was, but gave Applebloom some engine parts for it, while Scootaloo had had no luck. Questions in the industrial district had pointed her back to the watering holes around the docks.
They stopped for lunch on the Crusader, then demanded Key and Oval stay on board while they started looking in bars, insisting that Manehattan dockland bars weren't any place for them. Oval protested, but ultimately complied. She brought the unfinished chess pieces and her tools on deck to work on them while still taking in the sights of the city. Key brought his book. Their security guard remained at attention by his pay.
Several hours and most of the pawns later, Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo returned over the course of twenty minutes or so. Oval put the pieces away, and they all left together to find somewhere to eat. As they were leaving, a flying bike pulled up next to the ship, and their security guard ordered a pizza.
The three of them were quiet, and exhaustion showed in their heavy gaits. They settled on a place called The Liberty Belle, just beyond the harbour walls. It looked less rough-and-tumble than the places around it. It had something old and western playing quietly from a record somewhere, and everyone seemed as tired as they were. Applebloom went to the bar and put down a few bags of tea while the others found some seats.
Scootaloo put her head on the table, face-down. Sweetie Belle looked at the menu chalkboard for a moment, but then considered herself too tired to read and slumped back in the seat. Key looked around at the bar. Applebloom perched on a stool and stared into space while she waited. He found only one other figure there, in the shadows at the end, as if hiding. It cut a lumbering shape, with heavy limbs hanging from heavier frame. It was easily the largest pony Key had ever seen, making even Onyx Ring look petite by comparison, unless...
"What does Spike look like again?" he whispered.
Scootaloo muffled something. Sweetie Belle smirked, and then translated. "Purple scales, about twice the size of a pony, green spikes on the head and back, green flames..."
"Maybe I'm just seeing things, but is that him over there?"
Scootaloo picked her head up and looked at Sweetie Belle. Everyone looked around the edge of their booth at the bar. They looked at each other again. Scootaloo shimmied out from behind the table, followed by Sweetie Belle, and Key and Oval followed them to not get left behind, though they kept a polite distance. Scootaloo stepped in front of Applebloom's aimless gaze to get her attention. She said something, and Applebloom went wide-eyed. She looked at the shadow, and back at Scootaloo right away. She stifled a grin.
She hopped over a seat, took a deep breath in, and leaned over to the shadow. "Excuse me, are you..." The shadow moved, putting its head in profile from where Key was standing. Its nose, while no longer than a stallion’s, had a pointed tip, and puffs of smoke blew from its nostrils when it huffed impatiently. Applebloom leaned back a little and hesitated before proceeding. "Are you Spike?"
The voice was rough and resonant, like it had broken recently to a pitch two octaves below where it used to be. "What seems to be the problem, officer?"
"What?"
He huffed again. "Nobody comes looking for me unless a debt needs calling in. What have I forgotten?"
Applebloom put a hoof on her forehead. "No, I'm not... okay. Do you remember, eighteen years ago, just before the big boom, the Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville?"
Spike looked down again, leaving a smoke trail. "I try not to most days."
"The day before, you were going around inspecting the preparations."
Spike looked up, leaned over to Applebloom and squinted. "How do you know this?"
"Because I was there! Sweet Apple Acres, huge family, piles of food?" He looked down his nose pensively and said nothing. Applebloom cleared her throat, raised the pitch of her voice, and lowered her nose so she could look up at him with big eyes. "Won't you stay for brunch?"
Spike's mouth curled into a narrow smile, with a tiny sliver of the irregular fangs within showing. "Were you that little filly that convinced us to stay and eat? What was it... Apple... bumpkin? Applebob?"
She chuckled. "Applebloom."
"That's the one!" He chuckled quietly, and took a sip of his drink. "Fancy meeting you here. What brings a country girl like you to a dump like this?"
"Quiet, I'm still getting food here," she hissed. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "It's more than chance. We've been looking for you."
"I'm not sure if I should start with why, or who’s 'we'."
"They're related. I gotta ask you though. You must have tried to look for Twilight, right?"
Spike's smile faded, and he sank back into his drink. "I gave up that chase a long time ago."
She shoved him on the side. "How do you think I feel? My sister Applejack went with her. And Sweetie Belle's sister Rarity." She stood back and motioned to Sweetie Belle, and she waved with a small smile.
His head lifted. "Rarity..." It lowered again for a moment, with a cringe and a chuckle. "So you're on some kind of closure quest?"
Applebloom put her hooves up. "Hey, you get bored after ten years stuck on a farm." Spike's laugh was enough to have some timbre. "Really though. I don't know how close you were to Twilight, but Applejack was family, and if that means I have to turn over every last pebble in this sky to find her, I'm damn well gonna do it."
"Family..." He inhaled deeply. After a moment, he banged his glass on the bar and turned to face her. "Okay. Let's talk. What do you know?"
"We're at the part where everyone went to the library and then left without you, and we're hoping you know where they went."
He rubbed his chin. "I've got a pretty good idea, but that means nothing without a ship."
Applebloom grinned. "She's parked outside. Built her myself."
"If you’ve got ballast rockets I can pay my way with refills, but you're gonna need to stock some eating gems."
Oval frowned and whispered to Key. "Eating gems?" He shrugged.
Applebloom didn't miss a beat. "We've probably got something we can throw at the factory for some rations."
Spike looked down and took another breath. "There's uh... there's one more thing that might be a hard sell."
"Shoot."
He looked around him and leaned closer. "I want to go to Canterlot." Oval seized up at the mention, and Key had also gone wide-eyed. "It's probably not gonna be a happy trip, but closure means all your family."
Applebloom nodded solemnly. "I feel you. Consider it done."
"What?" Oval nearly shrieked, and stepped up next to them. Applebloom winced and gestured for her to lower her voice. She didn't. "That's insane! It's... it's suicidal! How is something like that even on the table?" Spike stared, along with the rest of the bar. The barkeep with their food just set it on the bar, took the bags of tea, and returned to the kitchen. Oval took a deep breath and brushed a stray hair out of her eyes. Then she continued at a more civil volume. "Sorry. Still! That's crazy!"
Applebloom looked at the floor, then back at her. "If Key disappeared one day, would you go through hell to find him?"
Key opened his mouth, but then closed it. Oval bit her lip and looked at the end of her nose. "Okay. Fair point. Do you have a plan though? Are we just going to fly right in and hope for the best?"
"Yeah," Spike said. Oval stared. "Twilight had a brother, Shining Armor. He was captain of the guard there."
"That Shining Armor?" Scootaloo said before she could stop herself.
Spike grimaced. "Yep. I told you it probably wasn't going to be a happy trip. I used to call him brother too. I want to see if there's any of 'brother' left. He should recognise me at least, and that should get us through the guards."
Oval continued to stare. "That's it? That's your plan?"
"I grew up there. If we keep it civil, then there should be no problems."
Oval breathed in deep and mouthed "okay", before turning to the food and stuffing her mouth with fries before she caused another scene.
"So. Transit for information. Are we agreed?" Applebloom spat in her hoof and extended it.
Spike blew shortly into his claw, shooting a small green flame, and leaving a patch of ash, and they shook. "I think that's a deal."
"So where are we heading after Canterlot?"
"All I know is what Twilight left for me in a note. She and the others went to an old castle in the Everfree Forest to look for something called the Elements of Harmony. We knew that they were something used to banish Nightmare Moon a thousand years ago, but that was it. She told me to try writing to Princess Celestia if she didn't make it back, but that didn't work out."
Applebloom blinked. "Is that it?"
"No." He leaned in again. "I've heard stories in these bars. Mostly sailors coming in with their tall tales, but some stories keep coming up. Those are the ones with grains of truth in them. One of them is the tale of the Labyrinth. There's an island, usually in Argo from everywhere, of a piece of the old Everfree Forest containing a magical maze. There's this old zebra who lives outside it and says that it appeared after the Sundering. Nobody knows what's inside, because nobody who's ever gone inside has found the middle. Every time they go in it’s different, and every time it only leads back out the way they came. Lots of people think it's treasure, or some kind of imprisoned evil, but I think the Labyrinth is the old castle, and something weird has happened there."
Scootaloo huffed. "That's a little far-fetched."
Key whispered to Oval. "Does an island with part of the Everfree Forest, some ruins, and a zebra on it sound familiar to you?"
Spike continued. "For a few weeks after the Sundering, the piece of Ponyville I was on was attached to part of the Everfree Forest. There was a zebra living there, who refused to move before it broke away, and some ruins, which I’m sure were the old castle, but I was too cowardly at the time to check out. I think it’s too close to ignore."
Oval whispered back. "Just a little."
Applebloom looked at Key with a little smirk and a quirk of the brow, before turning back to Spike. "So we find the Labyrinth, we find our answers." He nodded. "That leaves me with a question though. If you're so sure, why are you still here?"
He smiled and finished his drink. "You're the first lunatics crazy enough to take me to Canterlot."
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Damn it... I need more story
But if the Changelings are dead and aren't running Canterlot, then why is everyone mind zonked?
And why do they kill unicorns? Aren't they unicorns? Can't the evil bad guy mind zonk new unicorns?
Gotta say, this has been some really good world building. And congrats to CaptainHoers, this is drastically different from Duck and Cover. It's a standout ability to be able to write stuff so different in tone.
Not sure if I should be happy for the increase in action, or concerned for their well-being.
5180149
Idk. My best guess would be that Nightmare Moon or whatever caused the Sundering has something to do with it. Perhaps they are afraid that any unicorn that comes there isn't what they appear to be. It's hard to imagine Sweetie risking her horn just to have a look around though. I wonder if Spike could fly himself the rest of the way in.
It'd be depressing and humorous if using the elements of harmony on Nightmare Moon was in any way responsible for the Sundering.
5190476
5180149
Lalala speculation!
If you can't bear to hear speculation, you are truly in a spot of trouble.
5193897 Oh no, I revel in it! Because I get to cackle from the sidelines, being the only one to know what really happens.
5190476
>> if the elements or Nightmare Moon were responsible for the sundering
Well uh...
5195096
Spoilers or? Okay, if that's true, it's totally hilarious.
5194336 You, sir, are now one of my favourite authors. You're on the scale of Wrabbit to me.
EDIT: It's been 2 years.
WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN DOING
Interesting story. Though I'm a bit disheartened to see that it hasn't updated in so long. I suppose I will assume it's dead, BUT I'm going to follow it, just in case.
7280017 I do intend to come back to it! I just need to be in a certain headspace to work on it, and it's been hard to find that for some time.
7280207
Glad to hear it! I suppose I shouldn't expect an update soon, but it's good to know you haven't abandoned it. I'll keep an eye on this.
6503117
I just noticed this comment here. I addressed the "what am I doing" thing above but I should also note that I haven't forgotten about this story and intend to come back to it soon! Finishing a comic and a masters degree got in the way.
7903842 Okay. I'm less angry; those are good reasons. I would have been pissed to the high heavens if this was cancelled.