1 - Come Sail Away

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Twilight leaned over the prow of the Log Flume and squinted off into the distance, trying to make out any irregularities on the horizon against the backdrop of the sunrise. Unlike yesterday, this time, she actually could. It wasn’t much, but there was definitely something there. Something that couldn’t just be attributed to waves.

She levitated the spyglass in front of her, adjusted it. And it was far, but she could pick out a shore of some kind. It was still too far away to clearly make out what was on it, but it looked like a forest (or jungle, more likely) came right up to the waterline and stretched out up and down the coast as far as Twilight could see. The trees (assuming they were trees) were tightly packed together, but, happy day, there was a clear break in them were a river ran out and emptied into the ocean.

She grinned. “Gotcha,” she whispered.

“Spotted land, Princess?” asked Ponente from behind her.

“I think so,” said Twilight. “Take a look. And for the umpteenth time, you can stop calling me ‘Princess’.” She stepped aside, keeping the spyglass suspended for Ponente.

Ponente peered through the spyglass and started twitching her wings in that way they did when she was thinking quickly. “Yep,” she said after a moment, “that’s land, alright. We’ll keep a steady clip, get there in a little over an hour. No need to rush, and we don’t know what the shoreline’s like. And it’s my ship, so I can call you whatever I darn well please, and you’re a princess, so I’m calling you princess, Princess.”

Twilight yanked the spyglass away and lightly swatted Ponente with it. “Any chance I can royally issue a decree to order you stop, since you keep reminding me of the title that allows me to do that?”

“You may be a princess,” Ponente said as she rubbed her head, “but as I said, this is my ship, where I am a goddess, undisputed ruler of all I see and all who live within these decks. So… nope.”

Twilight couldn’t help but smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“Captain’s perks.” Ponente smiled back, then started heading towards the back of the ship. “I’ll get the crew ready to make landfall. You keep an eye on that, make sure it doesn’t creep up too fast on us.”

Twilight nodded and turned back towards the land. She tried to get a sharper picture from the spyglass, but the land was too far away. Still, it was land, and after over a week on a ship, it was better than nothing. Twilight hadn’t gotten seasick (the Flume was much too stable for that), but it’d feel good to finally be back on the ground, where “down” wasn’t constantly shifting relative to the floor.

THREE MONTHS AGO

They were out of bread. How could they run out of bread? It was pretty much the thing you always picked up when you went to market. It was a bummer; Twilight was just about to devour a succulent aloeburger, left over from two nights ago, and found out they were completely and utterly out of bread.

However, going out to pick up some bread revealed a few perks to Twilight: mainly, going to the market just after noon meant that most ponies (at least those who hadn’t been stupid enough to forget bread) had either already completed their shopping or weren’t ready to do it just yet, and so the place was emptier than usual. With little to no lines, Twilight had picked up a few loaves and was about to head home when she noticed-

“Zecora!” Twilight called out. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

On the road into the Everfree, Zecora stopped and turned to the sound of her name. She smiled. “Well, isn’t this just such a sight,” she said. “Ponyville’s own princess, Twilight. But where is Spike? Surely he can come out and buy…” She glanced at Twilight’s bags. “…bread, I see.”

“I’m giving him a light day,” said Twilight. “He had a rough time last week with all those Trottingham dignitaries coming and going. Besides, it’s just bread. What’re you out here for?”

“I had need of a certain flower to boil and stew for about an hour,” said Zecora. “Within its petals, a fine taste lurks, but getting it out requires some work.”

But as Zecora was talking, Twilight’s mind suddenly jumped to a topic only tangentially related, as it was wont to do. A time when Zecora had trouble shopping nobody had known what she was. None of her friends, and possibly nobody in Ponyville, had recognized her as a zebra. It was one thing for them to not be familiar with the species, but to be completely ignorant of their existence was another thing entirely.

Where were all the other zebras?

Well, the first step came to asking Zecora why she was here in the first place. “Hey, Zecora? If you don’t mind me asking, what made you leave Zebrabwe in the first place? What made you come all the way to Equestria?”

Zecora just shrugged, unfazed by the sudden jump in topic. “An urge to see what lay beyond the paths I had already trod. I simply wanted to set my eyes on the other side of the horizon.”

“Oh,” said Twilight. Her mind was already a thousand miles away. Coming here on your own just because you were bored at home was… daunting, given the distance to Zebrabwe. But, still, Zecora was one of the few zebras in Equestria. Why had none of the others banded together and sailed to Equestria in a larger ship? Ponies had g-

Twilight cut her thoughts short, realizing she was zoning out, her wandering mind was in danger of not coming back, and Zecora was giving her odd looks. “Well, um, it was nice to see you, Zecora,” Twilight said, “but I’m hungry, so, um, see you.” And she was gone before she heard a response.

Something was up. Not with Zecora, she was fine, with zebras in general. Zecora had come over here easily enough, so what was with the complete lack of other zebras? Zebrabwe was a good distance away, true, but Zecora had come. Ponies had gone and come back. It was hardly insurmountable. Something with the government? Twilight didn’t know what the government of Zebrabwe was like. Oppressive? Maybe, but Zecora had claimed she’d come over simply because she wanted to come over, and she wasn’t the type to lie on something like this. Probably. Was Zebrabwe isolationist? Maybe. Equestria was more isolationist than Twilight liked to admit; they hadn’t opened relations with Zebrabwe, after all.

This was something to look into. To think about. To investigate. To examine. To research!

After she dug into that aloeburger.

Applejack had never really gotten any sea legs. She’d never gotten seasick, but as she approached Twilight, she went slowly and did her best to stay very close the railing, in spite of the Flume barely rocking at all. Twilight still wasn’t sure if Applejack really really really didn’t have any sea legs or was just overly-cautious. She never asked, and wasn’t going to.

Eventually, she managed to claw her way through the bustle of sailors getting ready to land and reached the prow next to Twilight. She wrapped her forelegs around the railing and followed Twilight’s gaze to the horizon. “That Zebrabwe?” she asked.

“Yep,” said Twilight. She was looking through the spyglass again. The trees were closer, and now she could see the space between them. They were still close together, but not as bad as she’d thought.

“‘Bout time,” said Applejack. “I was about ready to jump ship and swim back to Baltimare to get some good, solid earth under my hooves.” She shuffled her rear hooves, trying to get a more stable grip on the deck. As the deck itself was unstable, she was fighting a losing battle. “Why can’t they just go and make a ship that just stays flat? That don’t try to throw us off once it hits a wave?”

“They’ve tried that,” said Twilight. “The designs either made things worse or were way too expensive.”

“Hmph.”

Twilight held the spyglass out to Applejack. “Want a look?”

“Nah. There’s gonna be some ponies goin’ ashore for a few minutes, right? I’ll go with ‘em and see the land up close then. Anythin’ to get off this ship for a little.”

“If you insist.”

Ponente yelled out from the rear decks to nopony in particular. “If you’re going with the shore party, lifeboat’s getting ready on port! Be there or be square!”

“And there’s my call,” said Applejack, crawling along the railing towards the left side of the ship. “You’re comin’ too, right? Flyin’ there?”

“Yeah. Me and my guards.” Twilight folded her ears back and muttered, “I told them they didn’t need to come with me, but they just would not take no for an answer.”

“Come on, sugarcube, ease up a little, they’re just doin’ their jobs.”

“Doesn’t mean I like it. Anyway, see you ashore.”

“Same here.”

TWO MONTHS AGO

Twilight hadn’t come down for breakfast. That wasn’t too bad. What was bad was that this was the third day in a row this had happened.

Taking the tray of food with him, Spike headed to Twilight’s room and poked his head in on the off chance that she- No, she wasn’t in her room. He hadn’t thought so, but it didn’t hurt to be sure. And since she wasn’t here, she’d be in…

Twilight’s study was even more of a mess than it usually was. Books were scattered — scattered — everywhere, leaving a bare strand of floor almost a foot wide the only clear route from the door. At her desk, Twilight was slumped over and staring at a book, but Spike could tell she wasn’t really reading it. She looked worn, tired, the same way she had yesterday and the day before.

Spike began picking his way through the mess, being careful to not tip the tray. “Alright, Twilight,” he said, “what’s up? This is the third night in a row you’ve stayed up all night reading. Normally when you do that, you look a bit happier than this.” He quietly slipped away the book and replaced it with the tray. “Come on, eat something.”

Twilight blinked blearily at him. “Books have failed me, Spike,” she mumbled.

“Huh?”

“Books have faaaaailed meeEEeeEEeeEEee,” Twilight wailed, and planted her face in her oatmeal.

Spike pulled up a stool to sit beside Twilight. “Come on, Twilight, how can you say that? If anyone can find something in a book, it’s you.”

Twilight lifted up her head just enough so her mouth was above the oatmeal’s surface. “It doesn’t do much good if that something isn’t in a book.” She dropped her head again.

“Something that isn’t in a book?” He said it slow, to be sure he got it right; Spike had lived with Twilight for long enough that the idea was as foreign to him as subtlety was to yaks. “How’s that possible?”

Twilight sat up straight. “It’s Zebrabwe,” she said as she wiped her face down. “The zebra homeland. There’s practically nothing about it in my books, or even the books from the Canterlot archives, and most of what is there is just copied from earlier books. And then there are the authors who actually have something going for them, then just up and vanish when they’re getting to the good stuff!”

“Hmm?” Twilight was talking about something Spike didn’t understand, and she was leading to something, and that meant “Hmm?” was the best response.

“Dr. Livingstone.” Twilight gestured to a well-organized, but rather small, pile of books to one side. “She went to Zebrabwe several times in the past twenty years, and she seems to have the most information about it, but six years ago, she left on another trip and never came back. And she was just about to get really in-depth on zebra culture, from the direction of things.” Twilight groaned, nudged her oatmeal aside, and planted her face on the table where her oatmeal had been.

“Are you sure you just haven’t looked hard enough?”

“I’ve been at this for a month, Spike.”

“…Yep, that’s probably looking hard enough.” Spike took a look at all the books piled around Twilight. Some of them didn’t seem to have anything to do with zebras or Zebrabwhat-Was-it-Again, and were instead only tenuously related. Say, Non-Equestrian Equines, or The Atlas of Uncharted Lands (how was that possible?). Even for Twilight, there was quite a bit of them. “Why the sudden obsession with zebras?”

“It’s Zecora.” Twilight sat up again and rubbed her nose. “She’s one of the only zebras in Equestria. Maybe the only zebra. But why? I mean…” She pulled out an atlas and began leafing through it. “Zebrabwe’s right there!” She jabbed her hoof at Zebrabwe on the map. It didn’t exist as much more than shoreline and a few landmarks, but it was there.

“Twi, you do notice the five thousand miles of ocean between here and there, right?”

Twilight slammed the book shut. “Like that’s ever stopped anypony. It didn’t stop Zecora. It didn’t stop Nachtigallop. It didn’t stop Livingstone. So why’s it stopping everypony else? On both sides of the ocean, for that matter.” She tapped her chin and frowned, staring up at the ceiling. “Still, five thousand miles is five thousand miles, and that’s just a one-way trip. The time sink might be too much for most ponies.”

Spike fidgeted a little on his stool, not sure what to say. He’d never been one for travel, barring that last dragon migration. Staying home was much better and safer. Twilight, on the other claw… Idea. “Why don’t you go there and find out? You could have a friendship summit with the zebras. Explore new places, meet new people… Wouldn’t that be great?” He didn’t mind if Twilight took him along; he always felt safer with her.

Twilight smiled and rubbed Spike lightly on the head. “I was just thinking of that, Spike. I’ve spent all this time on friendship in Equestria that I didn’t even think about the rest of the world.”

Sliding off her chair, she flared her wings and rolled them around, trying to get the blood flowing again. “I’ll need to talk to Celestia about this. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it, but I can’t just up and leave her for Zebrabwe for I don’t know how long without telling her.” She yawned. “But first, I need to get some sleep.” She shuffled out of the room.

She left the tray behind. Spike sighed. What a waste of perfectly good oatmeal.

From Twilight’s position in the air, it was hard to tell, but it looked like Applejack didn’t like the lifeboat any more than she liked the Flume. She was low in her seat in the middle, eyes closed, trying her darndest to ignore the rocking of the boat. Probably with little success. At least there weren’t too many waves.

Twilight wanted to jump right to shore, but her two guards were having none of that. They wanted to stay with the lifeboat. Well, Cumulus looked like he was open to moving faster, but Stormwalker shot down all of her objections with nine words over and over and over.

“Even if I go to shore now,” she said, “it’ll only take a few more minutes for the boat to get there.”

“Your Highness, we need to stay with the boat.”

“I’m an alicorn. And my special talent is magic. And I’ve put considerable effort into studying both offensive and defensive spells. I can protect myself fine. It won’t be dangerous in the slightest for me.”

“Your Highness, we need to stay with the boat.”

“I’ll issue a royal edict saying we don’t need to stay with the boat!”

“Your Highness, we need to stay with the boat.”

And that’d been the end of that. Twilight sighed as she flew slowly through the air, staring at the boat below. Aside from Applejack, all the ponies in there looked like they were enjoying themselves at least a little. Applejack looked up, grinned awkwardly, and gave Twilight a small wave. Twilight waved back. They were kind of in the same boat. Relatively speaking.

After an eternity that probably lasted only a minute, Twilight alighted on the beach, flanked by her guards, at the same time the boat landed. Applejack was out of the boat in a second and kissing the ground, hugging it where she could. “I ain’t never gettin’ on a boat again in my life,” she said. “Never never never.”

Ponente smirked and jabbed her in the ribs. “So you’ll be staying here for the rest of forever?”

Applejack paused. “…I’m gettin’ on a boat only once more in my life.”

Ponente chuckled and shook her head, then turned to the jungle. “What d’you reckon?” she asked.

Twilight could’ve asked the same thing. The trees were dense, and there was a lot of undergrowth between them; they could hack their way through, but there was no telling what they’d run into. She didn’t know what sorts of animals lived here, what the climate was like, what the landscape was like, or how deep the jungle was. Stupid isolationism stupidly not getting any stupid information on stupid Zebrabwe.

“I don’t know,” said Twilight. “What do you reckon?”

“Dunno either.” Ponente glanced at the river for a moment. “We could follow the river. It’d have water, at least. But it’ll put us in a lot of trouble if it turns out it ends in the jungle. And just following the coast is risky, since we don’t know how far the jungle spreads in either direction.”

Stupid isolationism. Stupid lack of stupid maps. That was what Twilight was here to alleviate, but it was still all so stupid stupid stupid. She spread her wings. “Why don’t I go up there and get a look around?” she asked. “If the jungle doesn’t spread too far, we can just go that way. Otherwise, well, we’ll see, right?”

From her position to the left of and just behind Twilight, Stormwalker cleared her throat before Ponente could speak up. “Your Highness, I must advise ag-”

“Stuff it,” said Twilight, flicking her tail. This had gone on long enough. “I don’t need you hovering over me, metaphorically or literally, every second of every day. I can take care of myself for a few seconds in the air, thanks. As your princess, I’m ordering you to stand down just this once.”

Stormwalker huffed and folded her ears back a little, but said, “If you insist.”

Ponente cleared her throat. “That sounds fine. I was just thinking of doing that, but if you’re fine with going-”

“I am.” Twilight swept her wings down and launched herself into the sky before anypony else could say otherwise. Just for a little while, she wanted to be able to fly without somepony else holding her back. Princesshood was great and all, but she relished the moments where it wasn’t restricting her.

Twilight climbed and climbed, and soon had the world spread out like a quilt beneath her. She took a look at the jungle and gulped. It just kept going, like the sea behind her. Green hills sprawled on and on and on, broken up by the occasional clearing or dark line that may have been a river. There was no clear path that she could see. She could dimly make out some mountains in the distance, but it was hard to tell how far away they were. And it was entirely possible that the jungle kept going up them; they were too far away to make out any color.

Okay. This was… unfortunate, but not insurmountable. She — or another pegasus, for that matter — could fly on, try to find the edge of the jungle. In all directions. She could wait a day or two. But she’d been hoping for something a bit less, not thi-

Below her, she heard a distant yell. “Hey! Look alive, we’ve got company!”

Twilight’s heart stopped. If the group below was being attacked, this whole trip could turn sour real fast. She needed to help them. She folded her wings and plunged downward.

TWO MONTHS AGO

One of the benefits of princesshood: you could just walk into Canterlot at any time, ask nicely, and be granted an audience with Celestia or Luna (which one depended on the time of day) within the hour at the very most, although ten minutes was more likely. Here, it wasn’t even that much; Twilight hadn’t been waiting two minutes before she was ushered into the throne room.

“You wanted to see me, Twilight?” Celestia asked, finishing her signature on a scroll with a flourish.

“Yes.” Twilight cleared her throat. “Princess Celestia, I’ve been thinking. We don’t have a lot of zebras in Equestria, do we?”

“I’m afraid not. We don’t keep track of the numbers, but I doubt there are more than two dozen, and there are probably less than that.”

“Right. Well, I was thinking. Maybe we should head over to Zebrabwe ourselves and try to make friends with the zebras. After all, just because we don’t see them doesn’t mean they don’t want to see us. And if they actually don’t?” Twilight shrugged. “We haven’t lost much. We might as well try.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea!” Celestia said, smiling. “To be honest, the lack of communication is partially my fault. The Celestial Sea is quite wide-”

“About five thousand miles,” piped up Twilight. “I’ve done my research.”

Celestia laughed softly. “Of course you have. And in the past, well, traveling that distance simply wasn’t practical. It could take months to get there, just in one direction, with no chances to stop and resupply or make repairs along the way. So we never did anything about it. But now, with better technology and faster ships…” Celestia coughed sheepishly. “One of the subtler downsides of immortality is that when you get stuck in your ways, it’s nigh-impossible to get back out. I kept saying I’d do it next year, and then I’d do it next year, and…”

She waved a hoof in a vague direction. “You can imagine what that led to. This is a small part of why I made you and Cadance princesses: you can provide a new perspective where Luna and I would ignore the possibilities simply because that’s not the way we’ve done things. Your trip would take some time, possibly months, but if you’re willing to do it, I’d be happy to support you.”

“Great!” said Twilight happily. “I’ve started compiling a list of things we might need…” She whipped out a scroll that unrolled the length of the throne room. “Food, of course,” said Twilight as she began reading from it, “but what kinds of food? We’ll want to show the zebras Equestrian food, but what food best represents Equestria? I was thinking-”

A flick of magic from Celestia rolled the scroll back up. “There’ll be plenty of time for that in the upcoming months,” she said. “For now, we need to make sure you can actually get to Zebrabwe. And I believe I know just the ship…”

Below Twilight, one of the most intense staring contests in history was taking place.

A cluster of unusually dark zebras had come out of the jungle, following the river. About nine or ten strong, they all looked armed with various weapons — Twilight saw spears, slings, morning stars, and other things she didn’t recognize strapped to both front and back legs — but although they all looked ready to go for their weapons, none of them was pointing anything at Twilight’s group. Fortunately, the Equestrians weren’t brandishing their pikes or knives or crossbows, either. But they still looked ready to whip them out. Her guards were the only ones who had weapons that didn’t look ready to start stabbing things, but they were still obviously on edge.

So both groups were standing about thirty feet apart, staring intently at each other, and felt ready to break out their weapons and attack. No one moved much; they all looked stiff as boards. Occasionally someone would cough or something, but nobody seemed willing to try and break the tension and risk it snapping back at them. They just waited and waited. From the looks of things, both sides were willing to wait for a while.

Twilight gulped. She was already at the first hurdle. The zebras below probably didn’t speak Equestrian, and while they didn’t look hostile, they didn’t look friendly either. A single wrong step could lead to a terrible first impression, which would only make things that much more difficult down the line. But if anyone was going to risk it, it had to be her. She was the leader of this diplomatic mission, after all. She dove.

Everyone twitched when Twilight landed off to the side and turned to look at her. A zebra that looked to be the leader, a big burly mare with a spear over her back, flexed her legs slightly, but made no move to attack. Some of the equines at the back of either group started to relax a little. So far, so good.

Twilight swallowed and walked in between the two groups. “Is there any way you can get your ponies to look less… tense?” she asked Ponente. “I don’t think they’re that aggressive, or they’d have attacked already.” I hope.

Ponente leaned to one side, looking around Twilight at the zebras. After a second, she said, “I really hope you’re right about this, Twilight.” To the crew, she barked, “Stop reaching for your weapons! We don’t want this to get bloody.”

The crew murmured, but after a moment, they tried to relax. It half-worked; they still looked tense, but not like they were going to start attacking the zebras.

Behind Twilight, one of the zebras yelled something. Twilight whirled around, terrified she’d made a mistake, but they were doing the same thing as Ponente’s crew: not reaching for their weapons and trying to relax. Twilight breathed a sigh of relief.

Then she took a deep breath to psych herself up and took a few steps toward the lead zebra. This close, Twilight could see that her unusually dark color wasn’t natural; she, and probably the rest of the zebras, were wearing some kind of thin, full-body netting that made them look darker. Even as Twilight approached, the zebra pulled at something on her neck and the netting around her head came away like a hood. Beneath the netting, her coloring was much more similar to Zecora’s.

Still, she looked intimidating, even if she wasn’t going to stab anyone anytime soon. Twilight had gotten used to being the largest pony in the room when there weren’t any other princesses about, but the zebra looked to be just a tad smaller than Luna. At least her expression was one of slight apprehension rather than anger or hatred.

Twilight cleared her throat as the zebras watched her. Normally, she felt fine when eyes were on her, but it was a little bit different when she wasn’t sure they spoke the same language. “Excuse me,” she said. She spoke slowly and clearly, trying to enunciate every syllable, and picked her words to be simpler than normal. Hopefully, if they spoke Equestrian, they wouldn’t find her too hard to understand. “Do any of you speak Equestrian?”

The zebra paused, cocked her head. “Not very good,” she said after a few seconds. “Speak slow, simple, please.” Her speech was stilted and halting. No, her Equestrian wasn’t very good. But it was still Equestrian, and, more importantly, perfectly understandable Equestrian.

Yesssssss. They were getting somewhere.

ONE MONTH AGO

This is all going rather well, Twilight thought as she walked towards Sweet Apple Acres. Only a few days after talking with Celestia, they’d nailed down the ship perfectly: the Log Flume, a fancy-dancy new type of ship that actually had arcane engines built into its hull. If the wind was against them, they’d just drop all sails and turn on the motor. It required a not-insignificant amount of magic to function, which normally limited its range, but with an alicorn on board, that wouldn’t be a problem. It was a decent size, too, with plenty of room for whatever she wanted to take along.

Once that had been ironed out, it was mostly a matter of deciding what she wanted to take along. As well as who. After a month of deliberation, Twilight had all the goods she wanted to bring, she had a small contingent of bodyguards (in spite of her protests; at least she’d managed to haggle it down to two pegasi), she had pretty much everything she needed. But she still had to pick at least two more people: an aide (“Just to make it look more official,” Celestia had said. “You don’t need one, but it looks professional.”) and a translator.

There was really only one choice for the translator: Zecora, the only person Twilight knew who spoke Zebran. Even further investigations into Zebrabwe and other research hadn’t turned up much on the Zebran language. Stupid isolationism. Twilight had just visited her in the Everfree, willing to beg and plead with her to come along if that was needed. But, no, Zecora had agreed to come almost immediately. That’d been easy.

What was going to be less easy was Twilight’s aide. Spike was coming, obviously, but she felt that she also needed a more equine aide, just in case dragons made zebras nervous for some reason. That had taken some thinking, but eventually, Twilight realized there was really only one choice that made any lick of sense.

Applejack was in the orchard, checking the apple trees for any damage. She waved when she saw Twilight approaching. “Howdy, Twilight!” she called.

“Hey, AJ.”

Applejack placed her ear against a trunk. She rapped it hard with a hoof, listened for something, then nodded. “What brings you ‘round here?”

Twilight took a quick breath to psych herself up. Applejack wasn’t the kind who’d take to the idea of leaving her home for months all that well. “You know how I’ve been planning to go to Zebrabwe as an ambassador?”

“Sure do,” Applejack said as she squinted at a section of bark. “It’s all you been talkin’ ‘bout for the past month.”

“Well, I was just wondering… if you would be willing… to travel with me as an aide.” Twilight attempted to grin. It didn’t come out so great.

Applejack blinked and sloooowly turned to face Twilight. She cocked her head and blinked again. “Pardon?”

“Travel with me. To Zebrabwe. As an assistant. Please?”

Applejack raised an eyebrow. “You want me to come with y’all across the ocean to Zebrabwatsit?” she said skeptically. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Twilight, even before we get there, I’m the landlubberiest landlubber you’ll ever lay eyes on. I’ll be throwin’ up every minute of every day the whole way there. And you know I ain’t the greatest with bein’ all fancy. It’ll only take half an hour for me to mess up some social thing, and then we’ll all get kicked outta there faster’n you can say ‘Sweet Sufferin’ Sassafrass’.”

Well, at least it wasn’t the Oh, sweet Celestia, no no no no NO, a thousand times over that Twilight had been expecting. She forged on. “AJ, even if you’re not good with social niceties, you’ve got a way with ponies,” Twilight responded. “You’re solid, dependable, reliable… You’re the Element of Honesty. You’re trustworthy, and everyone can see that. You just don’t feel like the kind of pony who’d lie.”

“You’re sayin’ I’m hard to mistrust?”

“Exactly. Just because you’re not good with the specifics doesn’t mean you’re useless in this sort of thing. When it comes to ponies in general, you’re one of the best people I know. Definitely better at it than me. And besides, can you imagine me bringing, say, Pinkie Pie?”

“Considerin’ how she dealt with the yaks, that ain’t necessarily the worst of ideas. But I see your point.” Applejack chewed her lip for a little. “When do you need an answer?”

“A month, give or take, but I’d prefer it earlier.”

“Tell you what. I’ll think about it. I ain’t sayin’ yes or no just yet, so don’t plan on one or the other. But I’ll try to get back to you by the end of the week. It ain’t just me I’m worried about; I’ll be leavin’ Sweet Apple Acres for, what? Two months? Three? And I’ll have to see if Big Mac, Apple Bloom, and Granny Smith will all be okay with it.”

“Probably three months,” said Twilight. “I’m rounding up to be safe. I hope you’ll come with me, Applejack. It’ll be an adventure you’ll never forget. And even if you don’t, thank you for thinking it over.”

“Mmhmm.” And Applejack went right back to inspecting the trees as if nothing had happened. But she was frowning a bit more and seemed a little slower.

Halfway through the week, Applejack caught up with Twilight and said, yeah, she’d do it. “But don’t be surprised if I cause some major cross-cultural kerfuffles!”

But Twilight wasn’t worried about that. She felt confident that this was going to turn out just fine, and Applejack had nothing to worry about.

Twilight took a few deep breaths. Hopefully, the zebras spoke enough Equestrian for this to be a semi-coherent conversation. She picked her words carefully, trying to make them ones that would come up a lot in conversation. “I am Princess Twilight Sparkle,” she said slowly, “and I am here as an ambassador from Equestria.”

The zebra cocked her head. “Am-ba-ssa-dor?” she said with a frown.

Twilight mentally gulped. Hitting a roadblock already? Joy. Of course, Zecora was on the boat if worst came to worst, but Twilight wanted to rely on others as little as possible. It was good practice in case she ever got separated from Zecora. “Uh, diplomat?” she suggested. The problem with the word “ambassador” was that its very foundation was built on uncommon concepts, making circumlocution tricky, to say the least. She could probably describe it if she had to, but it would be a very, very wordy description.

The zebra paused, then nodded. “Diplomat. I know that.” She looked out over the ocean, then turned back to Twilight and pointed towards the horizon. “Equestria. Country very far away, that direction?”

“Yes!” said Twilight, nodding excitedly. “Very, very far.” Roadblock broken. And the zebra was already looking to be intelligent enough to try to help Twilight fill the gaps.

“Yes,” the zebra said. “Ocean is very wide. You want to meet our king?”

“Yes,” Twilight said. Most definitely intelligent. Just not good at Equestrian. Languages were a pain; Twilight had tried learning some Zebran from Zecora in the past month, and was immediately overwhelmed by it all. Just for starters, noun classes that told what kind of noun it was. There were sixteen of them, and they all had different prefixes based on their noun, and you changed the prefix to change the plurality instead of adding a postfix like in Equestrian, and sometimes two different classes shared the same prefix for singular but a different one for plural or vice versa, and for some classes the singular and plural had the exact same prefix, and-

Anyway, the point was that just because the zebra wasn’t good with Equestrian didn’t mean she wasn’t smart. This conversation might go better than Twilight had expected. “We were looking to g- We want to go inland.” She gestured at the river. “We were thinking of either following the river, or tr-”

“HAPANA!” bellowed the zebra, making Twilight jump. “No! No no NO! Do not take river! River very bad, very dangerous!” Her eyes had gone wide and she was leaning forward slightly.

Twilight backed up, rustling her wings nervously, and very much missed being the tallest pony in the room 95% of the time. “I know how t-”

“Do. Not. Take. River,” the zebra said, each word landing like a hammer blow. “Very, very dangerous.”

“Okaaaaay,” Twilight said. “We won’t take the river. But th-”

The zebra held up a hoof and said something to the group behind her. After some discussion and drawing things in the ground, someone called back. The zebra turned back to Twilight and pointed south. “Port that way. Half-day’s trot. I think fifty miles? Has place for ship, roads, better Equestrian speakers. It will take your ship, easy. Go that way. Big river mouth, can't miss it.”

Okay, that was good. Fifty miles sounded about right for a half-day’s trot. Good thing they weren’t trotting, then. “Thank you. We sha- We will go to the port.” She bowed slightly — it always paid to be polite.

After some hesitation, the zebra returned the bow and started talking to her group. As the other zebras broke up, the first one said to Twilight, “We are done here. Good luck.” She pulled the netting hood back over her head.

“Again, thank you,” said Twilight. She started walking back to her own group, her steps light. Considering that was her first time, that had gone amazing. Ending a standoff, a decent conversation in spite of the language barrier, and directions to an actual port. Simply put, the only way it could’ve gone better would be if one of them had actually been the zebras’ king.

The moment Twilight was near the Equestrian group, Stormwalker and Cumulus stepped forward and placed themselves between her and the zebras. But even that couldn’t dampen her spirits. “You look lively,” observed Ponente.

“Indeed,” Twilight said brightly. “The jungle, unfortunately, keeps going as far as I could see, and those zebras — they spoke some Equestrian — said we shouldn’t take the river because it’s too dangerous. But there’s a port fifty miles south of here.” She frowned. “Well, actually, they said a half-day’s trot and guessed it was fifty miles, but fifty miles sounds about right.”

“Really,” said Ponente. A smile was creeping onto her face. “An honest-to-Celestia port… Hopefully it’ll be able to take my baby.”

“Wait, wait.” Applejack pushed through the crowd to Twilight. “Did I hear that right? That we’ll be goin’ to a port?” She glanced at the ship, groaned, and rubbed her head. “Rickin’ rackin’ frickin’ frackin’...” she mumbled.

Ponente chuckled and slapped her lightly on the back. “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’ll only be three hours, max.”

“Three hours too long,” Applejack muttered as she stalked back to the lifeboat. “Of all the…” And she dissolved into angry mumbles.

“She always like that?” Ponente asked Twilight.

“No. I guess she really doesn’t like ships.”

Ponente shrugged. “Well, if all goes well, she won’t have to be on one much longer.” She began wading out to the lifeboat.

Twilight was about to take off when she realized something: she hadn’t seen anything resembling a port while she’d been aloft, not in either direction. Just jungle, shore, and ocean. She didn’t think that the zebras would lie… but if they did… “Hey! Ponente!”

Knee-deep in the water, Ponente turned back to her. “Hmm?”

“You don’t suppose the zebra was lying, was she? I didn’t see any ports while I was up there.”

Ponente shrugged. “Don’t see why she would. Do you know how far up you were?”

“No. I think maybe three hundred feet? Four hundred?”

“Then if the port really is fifty miles away, that shouldn’t be a problem. At that height, the horizon’s only like…” She frowned and pawed below the water for a few seconds. “…twenty-five miles away, if I remember my tables correctly, so you wouldn’t be able to see it. Too far away.”

That was a relief. “Alright then,” said Twilight. “See you on the ship.”

“You, too,” Ponente said as she hopped into the lifeboat.

ONE AND A HALF WEEKS AGO

Baltimare was booming, and the docks where Twilight and her ambassadorial group were about to cast off were all hustle and bustle. A cluster of ponies was standing at the Log Flume, saying their last goodbyes. Not many of Twilight’s friends had managed to come to the final sending-off, but a few had.

“…and remember,” Twilight said to Starlight, “I’ve left you a list of friendship lessons to study. It goes on for way longer than I think you need, just in case. It’s in the library.”

“I know,” Starlight said. “It’s hard not to notice a scroll a foot thick.”

“Hey! It pays to be prepared.”

“I know. But, Twilight, be safe, okay? If you don’t come back, I…” Starlight swallowed. “I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it,” said Twilight. “I’ve got plenty of protection. And even if I don’t come back, I’m sure you’ll find something. You’ve made enough friends in Ponyville, and if worst comes to worst, you could go to Princess Celestia.”

“And that would be simply divine!” gushed Rarity. “You’re not only studying under the tutelage of Princess Celestia herself, you’re also in the middle of Canterlot, where-”

“-I’ll be depressed,” Starlight said, “because my first teacher probably got killed on the other side of the world.”

“Oh. Um. Right,” said Rarity, flicking her ears. “Still, though…” Her eyes turned misty and she began smiling. “I’d love to see what kinds of fashion have evolved over there, completely independent of Equestria. And they’re not even on ponies! They’re on zebras! I can only imagine what sorts of colors they have in Zebrabwe.”

Twilight and Starlight exchanged Significant Glances. Twilight cleared her throat. “Rarity, you do remember that zebras have no coloration besides black and white stripes, right? Like Zecora?”

Rarity froze. One of her eyes twitched. “Black… and white… stripes?” she whispered. “Just… just those?”

Twilight nodded. “All of them.”

Rarity shuddered and fainted.

“That’s what I thought,” said Twilight. She turned to where Applejack was saying goodbye to her family (minus Granny Smith, who wasn’t feeling up for the trip to Baltimare). “Applejack! You ready?”

Applejack was not ready. Apple Bloom had latched herself to Applejack’s neck and refused to let go. “I wanna go with you!” she whined. “I wanna see Zebrabwe, I wa-”

Applejack attempted to work a hoof between her neck and Apple Bloom’s body, to no avail. “Oh, come on, dumplin’, it’ll be mighty dangerous.”

“Eeyup,” said Big Mac. He grabbed Apple Bloom’s tail between his teeth and started pulling.

“Why do you think I wanna come with you?” Apple Bloom kept a tight grip on Applejack’s neck.

“‘Sides,” said Applejack, digging her hooves into the dock, “you wanna just leave your friends behind for a month?”

“They wanna come, too!” Apple Bloom’s legs slowly began slipping. “Zebras don’t have cutie marks, and we wanna see how they live like that!”

Applejack shot Twilight a brief, mortified look. “Listen, li’l filly, I’ll tell you all ‘bout it when I get back.” She grunted and tried to take a step back. Apple Bloom’s grip finally gave way and, upside down, she pendulumed back and forth in Big Mac’s grip. Applejack crouched down to Apple Bloom’s eye level. “But it’s just too dangerous for you to come, so y’all gotta stay here.”

Apple Bloom pouted, but muttered, “‘Kay.”

When Big Mac had set her down rightside up, Applejack tousled Apple Bloom’s hair. “Maybe someday you’ll be able to come over. Just not now.”

“‘Kay,” Apple Bloom muttered. She looked up and hugged Applejack. “Hope y’all have a good time. Even if it ain’t with me.”

Applejack hugged back. “I’ll miss you, sugarcube. You stay safe, now. And Big Mac?”

“Eeyup?”

“You’ll keep an eye on her, won’t you?”

“Eeyup.”

Apple Bloom began protesting. “I can take ca-”

She was cut off by the booming of the Flume’s bell. When it died away, Ponente’s voice rang out. “We’re leaving in ten!” she bellowed. “All ashore that’s going ashore!”

“Come on, AJ,” said Twilight, “we’d better…” She twitched and began looking around. “Spike! Where’s Spike?”

“Here!” Spike yelled from the gangplank. He held up a scroll. “Double-checked everything on your list, Twilight. We’re all good.”

“Did you-”

“Yes, I triple-checked my double checks. And Zecora’s on board, too. We’re all good.”

“Good.” Twilight turned to the ponies seeing her and Applejack off. “Thanks for coming, everypony. It means a lot t-”

Ponente yelled from the ship. “Princess! If your royal patootie’s not up here in eight minutes, we’re leaving without you! And then turning right back around because you’re the only reason we’re traveling in the first place and leaving without you would be stupid!”

“C’mon, Twilight,” said Applejack, nudging her in the ribs. “Let’s get goin’.”

“Right.” Twilight and Applejack headed up the gangplank. At the top, Twilight turned back and waved to the group below. “Bye, guys and girls! Thanks for seeing me off!”

“Farewell, Twilight! Farewell, Applejack!”

“See ya, Apple Bloom! See ya, Big Mac!”

“Bye!”

This went on for a while, and the ship was off before they knew it.

The rocking of the Flume hadn’t been much of a problem for Twilight for the most part, but she didn’t get as much of a deep sleep as she preferred. She slept alright, but it took longer for her to get to sleep and she awoke earlier than she liked.

Not Spike. On the Flume, he slept more deeply than a narcoleptic log. By the time Twilight had gotten back to the ship, he was still sleeping, even though he was pretty much the only person on the ship who was still in bed (or hammock, as the case may be).

It was time to put an end to that. Twilight poked him. “Spike.”

He mumbled something and rolled over.

Poke poke. “Spiiiiiike…” Poke.

“Grrfn.”

Jab. “Spike!”

Spike yelped and rolled out of the hammock. “I’m sorry, Grandpa!” he yelled. “I won’t…” Full wakefulness came to him. “Oh. Morning, Twilight.”

Twilight sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Spike, you need to try to get up earlier.”

“It’s not my fault!” protested Spike as he put his pillow back in the hammock. “These hammocks are just amazing.”

“Mmhmm. Listen, we’ll be arriving in a port in a few hours, so we’ll need to be prepared to disembark. Get ready.”

“So we’ve finally reached Zebrabwe?”

Twilight nodded. “And took a party to shore, met some zebras, talked with them, came back. Really, you need to get up earlier.”

“Unnf,” groaned Spike. “But we have hours. What’s wrong with getting some more sleep in if we have hours?”

“For starters, sleeping in is a bad habit to get into,” Twilight said. “Second of all, as some of the first official pony delegates in Celestia knows how long, we need to make a good impression. We’ll be representing all of Equestria, after all.”

And then Twilight realized what she’d just said.

In Equestria, she was allowed a certain amount of leeway as a princess. If she flubbed a word during a speech, nopony would say anything (as long as it was innocuous). If she showed up to this or that summit with bedhead, chances were that next week fashion magazines would be giving tips on how to give your mane just the right amount of unruly curliness. Whatever small mistakes she made, as long as she didn’t make a big deal out of them, no one else would, either.

Not so here. Here, princesshood meant nothing (probably). Almost nobody had actually seen a pony, much less had diplomatic talks with one. Even if she was just a tourist, her not-zebra-ness would mean that everyone was watching her. Everything she did would be judged. Everything she did would reflect on Equestria.

So, yeah. No pressure or anything.

Twilight felt a little weak at the knees. “Actually, Spike,” she said quietly, “why don’t you just… take a few extra minutes of sleep.” She gestured vaguely in something resembling the direction of his hammock. “I need to talk to Zecora about… stuff.”

“Sheesh, make up your mind, why don’t you?”

2 - Beyond the Sea

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Zecora had always had a way with words. She had to, in order to rhyme all the time. Even setting that aside, she could say things clearly and succinctly, a skill Twilight herself had yet to master. Twilight had never gotten into a serious, heated debate with Zecora, but it wouldn’t surprise her if Zecora could debate her under the table.

Zecora was also, Twilight was learning, an unparalleled master in argument by volume.

The surest sign that they were reaching the port (about half an hour late, but whatever) was when they ran into a small boat heading out of a large river mouth. Almost literally ran into it, considering the smaller boat was travelling fast enough that they almost didn’t see it before they hit it. The other ship puttered to a stop a next them, and when a zebra climbed on top of the cabin, they quickly hustled Zecora to the railing to talk with her. The two zebras then proceeded to have a discussion on right-of-way.

A very, very shouty discussion.

Twilight’s Zebran wasn’t the greatest (actually, it was kinda terrible), but she knew juuuuust enough to get the basic gist of what they were saying. Zecora was explicating on the lack of gray matter within the sailor’s head, to have missed such a large ship, while the sailor was stipulating that someone come down from the Flume so she could make some in-depth introductions; specifically, her hoof to their face. Much comparison between the speakers and female dogs was made, and much emphasis was placed on the marital status, or lack thereof, of their parents. (Zecora’s Zebran lessons often went in some very… interesting directions.) Twilight suspected other, more colorful terms were also being bandied about, but she couldn’t tell.

Eventually, Ponente got sick of it all, went to the helm, and briefly revved the Flume’s engines. It wasn’t enough to get the big ship moving, but it sent a massive rumble throughout the surrounding waters. The sailor suddenly remembered something urgent she had to get to and quickly piloted her dinky little boat away.

As the Flume began to move upriver, Zecora climbed down from the prow and huffed. “I’ve never seen beneath the sun,” she muttered, “a person stubborn as that one.”

But Twilight barely noticed as she squinted after the other boat. It wasn’t relying on the wind, like most Equestrian ships did. “It’s got a motor,” she muttered to herself.

“So?” said Ponente from behind her, making Twilight jump. Ponente sometimes seemed incapable of making sound while moving. “Flume’s got a motor. Other ships are getting motors. Small boats have motors. What’s so special about that one?”

“All our motors run on magic,” said Twilight. “In one way or another. But zebras don’t have magic. So what’s making it run?” She tapped her chin. “I suppose, theoretically if you contained a combustion reaction from something like lamp oil in a small enough space, you could use the rapid atmospheric expansion to push pistons an-”

“You’re saying they power their boats through explosions?”

“They might! We take for granted how much magic we use in everyday life, while zebras don’t have any of that, and limitations breed creativity.”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” scoffed Ponente. She glanced upriver. “Wonder how long it’ll take to get to port.”

She had a point. The river twisted right before it reached the ocean, keeping them from seeing too far up it, and in the unknown waters, the crew was taking it nice and slow. The Flume’s engines were turned so low Twilight suspected their no-longer-present thrumming was outside the range of a pony’s hearing. “I could go up,” suggested Twilight, “and see ho-”

But Ponente waved her down. “Don’t worry about it, Princess,” she said. “I’m not worried yet. Just thinking out loud a little. Inland ports are a thing, after all. Maybe in ten, fifteen minutes, you can head up.” She glanced over her shoulder at a certain armored pegasus and muttered, “If Stormwalker will let you. But not yet.”

“Alright.” And so Twilight turned her attention to the shore and the slowly-passing trees. Now, more than ever, she was glad they hadn’t decided to trek directly through the jungle, even with her limited view from the deck. The ground was uneven, covered in rocks and all kinds of ferns, the kind of ground it’d take ages just to go forward a halfway-decent distance. And she could just forget about taking any of the gifts along and expecting them to be intact at the end. Beneath the trees, she could make out a few shady animals flitting in and out of cover. They didn’t look to be large, and probably wouldn’t’ve been dangerous to her party if they’d gone, but small animals attracted large predators, and those could easily be dangerous. Yes, this port was definitely the best idea.

Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight saw something dart out of the jungle. She whirled to look at it, but it slipped back into the undergrowth before she could see it. Probably scared off by the ship. Twilight sighed; unless she got lucky, there wasn’t much of a chance of clearly seeing an animal that wasn’t going to bite her face off.

Her gaze fell on the shore of the river, and for the first time, Twilight noticed how straight the shores were. She leaned over the railing and looked up- and downriver to confirm her suspicions. Definitely straight.

“Noticed it, did you?” Ponente asked. She chuckled. “Took you long enough. Yeah, this ‘river’ probably isn’t really a river. Zebra-made canal, more likely.”

“A navigation, actually. Canals cut across drainage divides. Navigations follow similar courses to rivers.”

“Oh, close enough,” said Ponente, waving a hoof.

Twilight looked up- and downriver. “I don’t think it’s a pure canal, though. There was probably a river here that the zebras widened and deepened. Otherwise, it’d go a lot straighter.”

“Yeah. So the port’s most likely in a-”

The Flume turned a corner and the trees broke away to reveal the port. It was situated in a large lake, roughly oval-ish; it was maybe a few thousand feet across at its widest and several miles long. On the far side, Twilight could see lots of docks of varying sizes jutting out from the shore. The Flume was easily largest vessel in the lake, with most of the others being small fishing boats and the like. Beyond the docks, Twilight could make out buildings of varying sizes and no real similarities between them. Some were made of rock, some were made of wood, some were made of brick, some had been designed with laserlike precision, some looked like they’d been thrown together at random and dropped from the sky a few times, some were the size of warehouses, some would make a closet look roomy. They didn’t try to push aside the trees, but instead nestled comfortably among them. As a result, Twilight couldn’t see that far back before the trees crowded out her vision. The roads were dirt, a little too broad to be called narrow, and well-worn. There were plenty of zebras about in the town, even from what little Twilight could see, and several boats in the lake. The whole place was a bit too busy to quiet, and a bit too quiet to be busy.

Ponente nodded. “Yep, that’s a port.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

“Captain Ponente Obvious, Princess. Good place for it, too. Not too far inland, but far enough in to be protected from storms.” Then Ponente frowned. “How do zebras handle the weather here? Or does it work on its own? Oh, well, you’ll find out.” She leaned over the railing and began examining the docks. “That zebra said the port could take us, right?”

“Yes.”

“I hope she meant an actual dock, and not just putting in anchor. I like docks. Docks ar-”

A bell clanged from the other side of the ship. Twilight and Ponente scrambled across the deck and looked down to see a boat drifting alongside them. It was about the same size as the boat they’d nearly hit, but had an official-looking paint job. There was no risk of collision; they were a comfortable distance away. A zebra was standing on the boat’s deck, frantically waving a red flag.

“Hope that means the same thing here as it does back home,” muttered Ponente. Turning to the harbor pilot, she yelled, “Windlass! Bring us to a halt!”

Zecora was brought up as the boat stopped. Her conversation with this zebra was much less shouty and seemed to be actually civilized. After a few back-and-forths, she turned to Ponente. “That zebra there, she has some tips to assist the docking of the ship.”

“Poifect,” said Ponente, rubbing her hooves together. “Just poifect. What do we need to do?”

The talk turned to docking, and Twilight zoned out. This was just not her thing. Talking with zebras? Studying magic? Sure. Not docking. Her gaze wandered and fell on a small ship sitting placidly out in the lake. It was very spartan, not much more than a small cabin, a long and broad deck, and a crane. Twilight guessed it was a transport ship of some kind, but what would you transport here? And the crane was too low to be of much use for anything. Unless…

There was another zebra on the deck, staring inquisitively at Twilight. Too far away to say anything much (even without the language barrier), Twilight settled for a smile and a wave. The zebra cocked her head, then smiled and waved back.

Another zebra emerged from the water right next to the ship, wearing something that looked an awful lot but not quite like scuba gear. Divergent technological development, most likely; they served the same purpose, just went about it in different ways. The deck zebra said something to the scuba zebra and pointed excitedly at Twilight. Scuba looked at her, shrugged, and gestured at the crane. Deck let the crane’s hook down to Scuba, who grabbed it and plunged back underwater.

A light jolt ran through the Flume as its engines started running again, this time even slower. It was headed for the docks, the smaller boat at its side. But Twilight, intrigued by Deck and Scuba, paid that no mind began moving down the Flume to try and keep them in sight.

Scuba popped back out of the water without the hook and clambered easily onto the deck. She did something with the crane; Twilight guessed turning it on (which, in turn, meant the crane was also powered by a motor), because the line leading into the water tightened and the boat tilted slightly. After a few seconds, the crane hoisted out a net full of seaweed; Deck and Scuba swung the crane around and dropped the net onto the deck.

And then Twilight realized: it was a farming operation, just underwater instead of on land. It was so simple, Twilight could see it already: Scuba gathered seaweed and put it into the net until it was full, at which point it was pulled up. Given the lack of farmland around, it was a smart way to get some food without having to go out foraging into the jungle. Seaweed was a delicacy back in Ponyville, but it’d probably be cheap here. She’d have to see if she could get some.

“Steady!” yelled Ponente from the prow. The Flume was almost at the dock and she was directing the ship to a more precise position than Windlass could see. “Steady! Aaaaannnnnd… good! Kill the engines!” She waved a hoof to get Windlass to stop. Before the ship had completely settled down, the sailors were already at work, whether they were getting the gangplank ready or attaching the Flume to the dock’s bollards with rope. They did it with the practiced ease that said they could do it in their sleep.

Twilight took a few deep breaths. They were in it now. No turning back. Not unless she wanted to give some really awkward explanations to Celestia. She quickly assembled Zecora, Applejack, and Spike together, with Stormwalker and Cumulus looming off to the side. “Alright, girls-”

Spike coughed.

“-and dragon-”

“Thank you.”

“-this is it. Once we step onto that dock, our journey has officially begun.”

“So what’ve we been doin’ the past week?”

“You know what I mean, AJ. This’ll be the first planned contact we have with zebras. So…” Twilight sucked in a long breath through her nose. “Don’t choke. Or else this’ll all come crashing down on our heads and ruin everything we’ve done for the past few months and we’ll have come all this way for nothing and we’ll never be friends with the zebras ever at all!” Her legs and wings stiffened and her breathing got hoarse.

Spike and Applejack exchanged Looks. Zecora cleared her throat. “If I’m not wrong, you may be stressed. What bothers you about what comes next?”

“Yeah, Twi,” said Applejack. “Why’re you so jumpy all of a sudden? You had over a month to think about this, then you just go and break down?”

“And it’s not like this is the only diplomacy you’ve ever done,” added Spike. “You’ve worked with griffons and yaks with no problem. Heck, we were worse off with the yaks the first time around, and you weren’t freaking out quite as much then.”

Twilight’s legs unlocked and she rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry. But I only just realized how risky this is. Like, a few hours ago only just realized. The yaks were, geographically speaking, right next door. You can take a train most of the way to Griffonstone. If I messed up previously, we could send others over to apologize easily. But if we get kicked out of Zebrabwe it’ll be weeks before we can send another envoy over and the zebras will start making up stories about why we got kicked out and they’ll grow in the telling and by the time we get back there’ll be way more stories than we can refute and any chances at friendship will be ruined forever!”

She looked between everybody else. “I never realized just how much of a waste of time this could all be until right now, and it all feels kinda heavy all of a sudden.” Another thought hit her. “And I almost messed up already with the group on the shore!” She began pacing back and forth, muttering to herself. “It would’ve taken longer, way way longer, but I should’ve gotten Zecora and guaranteed a lack of miscommunication, not tried to stumble my way throu-”

Zecora planted a hoof on Twilight’s chest to stop her. Given the earth pony in Twilight, the only result was Zecora getting pushed across the deck for a few feet before Twilight realized what was going on and stopped pacing. She opened her mouth to say something to Zecora, but cut herself off and closed it. If Zecora had something to say, it wouldn’t do any good to interrupt her.

“That may be true,” said Zecora, putting her hoof back on the deck. “It’s also past. You really need to just relax. You’re making all these problems seem far larger than they need to be. Maybe, if you were unskilled, the situation might bode ill. But you are not, so please, buck up.” Zecora grinned. “I highly doubt that you’ll muck up.”

Applejack nodded. “Pretty much that. Really, the only difference between then and now is distance. And zebras are closer to ponies than yaks or griffons are, so we’re already ahead compared to them. Seriously, you’re lookin’ at this way worse than it actually is.”

Silence reigned for half a moment, then everybody looked at Spike. He shrugged. “What? I got nothing to add, you two put it perfectly.”

“Okay,” Twilight sighed. “You’re all right, I know you are, but… well, stress.” She took a deep breath. “Alrighty then,” she muttered, “here we go.”

She headed for the gangplank, flanked by Stormwalker and Cumulus. Behind her, in order, trailed Zecora, Spike, and Applejack. As Twilight stepped off the ship, her rational mind pointed out, once again, that her friends were right and she was overreacting. Her emotional mind refused to listen and kept her heart working in overdrive. But she’d just have to live with it.

A tall, lean, smiling zebra wearing an official-looking uniform was already waiting on the dock. Like Twilight, she had her own bodyguards, both of them with something Twilight didn’t recognize strapped to the inside of their forelegs. However, her guards looked a bit more lax in their discipline, leaning casually rather than standing at attention, and they didn’t have much in the way of uniforms, almost like they were militia rather than part of an organized fighting force. None of them seemed to be staring at Twilight all that much. Or at anyone in the group, for that matter.

Before Twilight could say anything, the zebra bowed slightly. “Greetings, ponies of Equestria,” she said. Her voice was rich and flowing, and although it was accented, she spoke the words like she’d grown up saying them. “Welcome to Bandari Mji, our humble town. I am Idube.”

Well, to come across somebody so fluent in Equestrian right off the boat was unexpected, to say the least. Not to mention she knew they were from Equestria before any of them had actually left the boat. It took Twilight a few extra moments to get her thoughts together. Should she reply in Equestrian or Zebran? She knew from Zecora’s lessons that Zebran greetings could go back and forth for a while, and she didn’t want to waste time (their time was practically unlimited, but she still didn’t want to waste it). But if she responded in Equestrian, would she look like some boorish simpleton who hadn’t bothered to learn the native language?

Twilight took a risk. “Sijambo, Idube,” she said. The traditional Zebran response to the traditional Zebran greeting. Hopefully, it’d be enough to look like she’d attempted to learn the language. “I am Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

An amused grin pulled at the corner of Idube’s mouth. It was only for half a second, but it was definitely there. You go to diplomatic summits a lot, you learn to read faces. Twilight hoped to high heaven it was the “I like this pony” kind of amused, and not the “this pony just screwed up big time” kind of amused.

“We are here,” Twilight continued, “in the hopes of opening diplomatic relations with our country and yours.” So now what should I say? “And we don’t really know where to go from here”? No way, that’d make us look… Oh, how about- “Is there any way you could assist us in that manner?”

“There is indeed, believe it or not. Come.” Idube made a clicking sound with her mouth and turned down the dock.

Twilight briefly looked over her shoulder, flashed a broad grin at her followers, and nodded furiously. Then they all headed after Idube.

Twilight didn’t look around much as she walked; she was too wrapped up in her thoughts. Idube knew Equestrian really well and knew they were ponies. What did that say about her? Or about this place? (What was the name again? Bandari… Bandari Mji.) At first, the only phrase whirling through Twilight’s mind was How? How? How?, but it only took a few moments to swap some of the letters around and become Who? Who? Who? Because, really, the answer was simple: one of the ponies who’d traveled to Zebrabwe in the past had come here at some point and stayed long enough to teach Idube, and possibly other zebras, Equestrian. That would also explain the zebras they met at the river; they just weren’t that good with languages.

…Why, though? Why would they teach zebras Equestrian so thoroughly? Maybe Idube was good with languages, sure. But good with languages or not, you needed time to get that that fluent in a foreign language, not just a quick lesson or two. It could take years. Yeah, she could’ve put in the time, but why? Why would some zebra take the time to learn — not just learn, become fluent in — the language of a land she might never go to? Why would an explorer sit down for years mid-expedition and take the time to go so in-depth about her native language wi-

Twilight’s train of thought was derailed by Idube’s voice. “Here we are.” They’d stopped in front of one of the larger, warehouse-looking buildings. Actually, based on the incredibly large doors off to the side, it probably was a warehouse of some kind. The walls were made of a good, solid-looking type of brick, and were very weathered. The building was probably one of the older ones in the town. (But how old?) No real windows, but aside from the big service doors, the only entrance Twilight could see was the largish-pony-sized door (actually, the zebra-sized door) they were all standing in front of. A sign just below the top of the wall proclaimed something Twilight couldn’t read; Zebran used a different script than Equestrian, and her lessons had focused mainly on the verbal part of Zebran rather than the orthographic part.

“Right in here,” said Idube. She led them into the warehouse. It was wide and bare and empty at the moment, but looked ready to receive cargo of any kind. Yellowish lectric lights illuminated the whole scene. Idube simply crossed the floor, heading for a door on the opposite side of the vast room.

Twilight sped her walk up to a trot. “Excuse me, but where are you taking us?” If she’d been here for any other reason, Twilight would’ve thought the whole scene looked rather… murder-y, for lack of a better term. Isolated, badly lit, grungy. The kind of place serial killers hung out in. But you couldn’t murder a shipload of foreigners without everyone else in town finding out about it, and if the entire town was in on it, you wouldn’t bother hiding it.

“To someone who can better handle your situation than myself,” said Idube. “She currently works with shipping, but she has spent time talking with King Inkosi in Kulikulu.”

“Personally?” asked Twilight, her ears going up. Kulikulu, she guessed, was Zebrabwe’s capital, if that was where the king was.

“Correct,” said Idube. She was almost-smiling again. “I believe that she is able to find you an entrance into the Royal Court.”

Oh, yes. Yes yes yessss. That was exactly what Twilight wanted. It was just a shame that it had to be in such a dismal place.

They reached the door on the other side of the warehouse. “She is inside,” said Idube, pointing at the door. “I would join you, but there is not enough room for both of us.”

“Thank you,” Twilight said, nodding at Idube. She put her hoof on the knob and opened t-

-there was no knob.

Twilight stared at the place where the knob should’ve been, as if that would make it appear. Nope. Definitely no knob. Did the door open inwards, and you just pushed it? Twilight nudged the door. It didn’t open inward. And there was no handle to pull it outward. And it couldn’t work with magic, because zebras didn’t have magic.

She didn’t know how to open the door.

Her heart began racing again and it felt like everyone was staring at her. She’d made it over the first few hurdles, and now she was about to be undone by a freaking DOOR?! This was not good. This was not good a-

“Step on the pedal, Twi,” whispered Applejack.

Twilight blinked and looked down. Nestled up against the doorframe, right on the edge and quite innocuous, was a worn metal pedal. She stepped on it, and the door swung inward. Oh.

You could’ve boiled soup on Twilight’s cheeks right then and still had enough heat left over to roast a marshmallow or two.

The room on the other side of the door was on the smallish size already, just barely large enough for two, maybe three, ponies and a desk, but felt even smaller, due to the sheer mass of stuff inside. Mostly books, papers, and what Twilight assumed were filing cabinets, but there were also things like statues, for some reason. And the stuff was everywhere: on shelves, on top of shelves, on almost every square inch of the floor, sticking out of cabinets, everywhere. The librarian in Twilight started screaming and urging her to organize absolutely everything. It was hard to ignore. The whole scene was illuminated by a ceiling lamp with one bright bulb and one dim one that seriously needed to be replaced.

On the other side of a rather small desk sat, of all things, an earth pony. She was old but not exactly elderly, just entering the age where a gray mane was source of pride rather than anxiety. Not that she had much gray yet; her mane and tail, trimmed short, were mostly a rosy peach, offset by a pale yellow coat. She was hunched over a scroll, scribbling away with a quill in her mouth.

Twilight couldn’t resist sucking in a breath. She knew this pony. Not personally, but from pictures.

The mare looked up. She had a monocle in one of her green-irised eyes. “Hmm, hmm, yeth?” she asked around the quill. “What…” Her voice trailed off and the quill dropped from her mouth as she realized she was talking to an alicorn.

“Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” said Twilight. She did her best to keep her voice under control — Livingstone, one of the foremost experts on Zebrabwe, was right there! She wanted to burst out squeeing and gushing, but squeeing and gushing were quite unbecoming of a princess, most unfortunately.

Livingstone removed her monocle and grinned. “Yes, indeed, yes I am, Your Highness.” In a surprisingly spry move for her age, she vaulted over her desk — after all, it wasn’t like she could make more of a mess — and briefly dropped to her knees in front of Twilight. “So,” she said as she stood back up, “Equestria has a new princess, then, does it? I always said Celestia could do with a second princess to help with whatever, yes, yes.”

Right. Livingstone had last been in Equestria before Nightmare Moon’s return, hadn’t she? She wouldn’t know of anything since then. “It’s a bit more complicated than that,” said Twilight. “First of all, Nightmare Moon — you’ve heard of her, right?”

“Most certainly.”

“She came back from the moon several years ago, but some friends and I banished the evil within Princess Luna and redeemed her with the Elements of Harmony-”

“The Whats of What?” asked Livingstone with a frown.

Twilight paused, then said, “-with a collection of magical artifacts-” (Livingstone seemed to accept that.) “-and she now rules alongside Celestia.”

“Three princesses, then,” said Livingstone. She frowned a little. “Might be a bit much; I always thought that two would be plenty.”

“I’m not done yet. Cadance — have you heard of Cadance?”

“Indeed. Forgot about her, at first. She used to be a pegasus, if I’m not wrong.”

“Right. Her. She’s grown up and married — to my brother, as a matter of fact — and has her own dominion within Equestria.” Twilight decided not to mention the Crystal Empire yet. She didn’t want to throw too much at Livingstone at one time.

“Hmm. Hmm hmm,” hmmed Livingstone. She frowned again, a bit more deeply. “Four. That’s an awf-”

“And,” interrupted Twilight, “her baby daughter’s also an alicorn, so you might want to count her as a princess, too.”

Livingstone’s eye twitched, then she burst out laughing. “Well, I’ll be. Five princesses. At this rate, when I get back to Equestria, I’ll be the only normal pony in a land of alicorns, each and every one of them a princess! Or prince, as the case may be.” Her chuckles died away and she cleared her throat. “That being said, what brings you all the way out to Zebrabwe and my little business?”

“I’m on a diplomatic mission from Equestria,” said Twilight. “We hope to open up relations with the zebras, and Idube out there said you could help us.”

Livingstone blinked, bit her lip, and looked away. “Hnng. I… I can help you,” she said, “but the specifics could prove a mite tricky.”

Oh, boy. Just what they needed. Still, they were better off than they’d been when they’d arrived. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” said Twilight. “I’ve faced bigger problems before.” Technically true, but those were in a completely different category of “problem”. Here, you couldn’t just sling the Elements at the problem and make it go away, even if all the Bearers had been here. Actually, trying to blast your would-be diplomatic allies with a magic friendship laser probably wouldn’t produce the best results, well-intentioned or not. On the other hoof, there was always the possibility that it would just be a mite tricky, rather than a lot tricky. Probably not, but hey, she could dream.

Livingstone hmmed again. “Maybe,” she muttered. “Maybe.” Then she was smiling again. “But let’s be out of this minute room, hmm? You didn’t come here on your own, I don’t think, so why don’t you introduce me to the rest of your party quick a minute?”

“Sure,” said Twilight. “They’re right outside.”

Outside, Twilight’s friends and Idube looked like they were trying and failing to make idle chitchat to pass the time. Stormwalker and one of Idube’s guards were glaring at each other in imitation of the standoff a few hours ago. Cumulus and the other guard seemed to be trying to communicate with some bizarre form of charades. Cumulus couldn’t speak Zebran, and evidently, the guard couldn’t speak Equestrian.

“Hujambo, Idube!” said Livingstone brightly.

“Sijambo,” Idube replied.

The two of them started talking back and forth in Zebran. From what Twilight could pick out, it sounded like Livingstone was just confirming what Twilight had told her with Idube and a bit of speculation between the two about how to go about getting Twilight into Kulikulu. Zecora quickly shuffled behind Twilight and whispered in her ear, “They are talking, it seems to me, about how you’ll do diplomacy.”

“That’s what I thought,” Twilight whispered back, “but thanks anyway. Keep it up, just in case.”

Zecora nodded and took a step back out of Twilight’s space.

Finishing up her conversation with Idube, Livingstone turned back to Twilight. She looked over Zecora, Applejack, and Spike, and laughed softly. “The only way your group could be more eclectic,” Livingstone said, “is if you also had a griffon and a changeling.”

“Hey,” said Twilight defensively, “I-”

But Livingstone waved her down. “Just an observation, Princess. Why don’t we do introductions?”

Twilight nodded. “Livingstone, these are Zecora, my translator, Applejack, my aide, and Spike, my number one assistant.” She pointed at each individual in turn. “Girls and dragon, this is Dr. Livingstone, one of the-” Don’t squee, squeeing is unbecoming. “-most knowledgeable hippologists in Equestria when it comes to Zebrabwe.”

“It’s not like there’s much competition,” snorted Livingstone.

“Howdy anyway,” said Applejack, tipping her hat. “I didn’t expect to see a pony so far from Equestria.”

“You’ll find a lot of things in Zebrabwe you didn’t expect,” said Livingstone. To Twilight, she said, “Begging your pardon, but is there any way we can delay this until, say, lunch? I’m sorry, but I’m quite busy at the moment, and while I’d like to talk, I’m afraid I don’t have the time just yet, no.”

“I… I guess so,” said Twilight. It pained her to say it — her best link to the king of Zebrabwe was right there, and she couldn’t talk with her at all for the next few hours — but this wasn’t Equestria. She was effectively a nobody here, and it’d be a lot harder for people to open up their schedules for her. “We do need to unload our cargo.”

“If you want, you can drop it off here,” said Livingstone. She looked around the empty warehouse and grinned wryly. “It’s not like you’ll be displacing anybody.” And she was gone back inside her office.

Twilight took a few deep breaths. Okay. So far, so… decent, at least. It was hard to say if it was actually “good”, considering she didn’t know what the problems were. But they had a contact with the king — and an actual pony, no less — and a jumping-off place to begin. They had a long journey ahead of them, but landfall was nothing to sneeze at.

But for the next few hours, they had work to do. “Let’s get back to the ship,” she said to her group. “That cargo isn’t going to unload itself.”

Idube nodded. “I can help you with that.”

“If you could, that’d be great.”

3 - Lady of the Harbor

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As if to make up for the puny size of her office, Livingstone’s house was… not extravagantly gargantuan, but still rather large for one pony. Her dining room, in particular, had more than enough room to accommodate Twilight, her friends, and her guards for lunch, as well as Idube and Livingstone. Twilight guessed it was set up for these kinds of guest dinners, if Livingstone had once had personal contact with the king (she’d already forgotten said king’s name, unfortunately). The house itself was only a slight ways back into the jungle and built of strong, thick brick that was about as regular as regular could be. It was a bit too bare for Twilight’s tastes, with barely any decorations, but to each her own.

Livingstone nudged a bowl of pepper stir-fry (or, as Idube called it, pilipili hoho stir-fry) towards Twilight. “So, what was the trip to Zebrabwe like, hmm?”

Not a big fan of spicy things, Twilight simply passed the bowl to Zecora, who took Twilight’s serving in addition to her own and dug in with gusto. “Uneventful,” Twilight said as she helped herself to some rice pancakes instead. “Smooth sailing the whole way across. But when we first made landfall about fifty miles north of here, we ran into some zebras coming out of a river.”

Applejack looked up from a plate of pale green pear-esque fruits Livingstone had called a fenesi (this being a Zebran term, Twilight had to remember that the plural was mafenesi and not fenesis or feneses). “They had these funny-lookin’ suits,” she said. “Kinda like nets. They pointed us here and said the river was too dangerous for us to try.”

“And I saw no reason to not believe them,” said Twilight. “I could probably protect myself and anyone that wanted to come with my magic, but I figured, better safe than sorry. I didn’t know what the danger was, after all.”

“You made the right decision,” Idube said gravely. “I do not know what kind of protection you have, but your journey would have been very dangerous if you had gone upriver.”

“Long story short,” said Livingstone, “Zebrabwe’s not like Equestria. The jungle looks out for itself, and only for itself. And…” she leaned in towards Twilight. “It. Does not. Like you. At all.”

She leaned back. “You said the river was, what, fifty miles north? Yeah, that one’s bad this time of year, yes. The air’s so thick with bugs — all of them carrying disease — you can barely see. The viboko are even bigger territorial bastards than usual. There’s the crocodiles that can wait for hours for the right chance to grab you and drag you under. And that’s just the start. You go up that river without knowing what you’re getting into, you die. End of discussion.”

Twilight gulped. Yeah, definitely a good idea that they hadn’t gone up the river.

“Of course, that particular river’s among the worst of the worst,” said Livingstone, “but the jungle’s quite unforgiving compared to anything in Equestria, yes. Your route, it’ll be risky, but it’ll be a lot safer.”

“So what were the net suits for?” asked Spike around a mouthful of coal. Hearing of his usual eating habits, Livingstone had offered up some coal as a, as she put it,“less-refined but hopefully still tasty alternative”. Spike said coal lacked some of the rich aftertaste of gems, but had one heck of a kick.

“Defense against the bugs,” said Livingstone. “Netting like that can keep insects off, or at least keep them from biting you. Protip: put them around your beds, yes, and you won’t wake up the next morning with every square inch of your coat covered in mites.” She shuddered. “Not a pleasant experience, let me tell you.”

“So why d’y’all live out here if it’s all so dangerous?” asked Applejack. “Can’t y’all just move inland or somethin’?”

“Three reasons, yes,” said Livingstone. She nipped a bite from a rice pancake she called a kibibi (plural vibibi). “First, and you may have seen this, we run a rather expansive seaweed farm out here in the lake.”

“I saw some zebras pulling some seaweed out of the water with a big net earlier,” said Twilight. “I thought farming was what that was.”

“This particular type of seaweed,” said Idube, “is prized both as medicine and as food, and is quite difficult to grow properly. Proper cultivation of the seaweed supports most of Bandari Mji’s economy throughout the year. We are not the only such farm in Zebrabwe, but demand is high.” She paused. “Very, very high.”

“Hmm, yes, yes, indeed,” said Livingstone. “Perhaps a bit risky, to have so much riding on the production of a single good, but there haven’t been any problems thus far.” She took a sip of ginger tea. “Reason two is nearly identical: there is a kind of mushroom that only grows in the jungle that is worth more than its weight in gold. Also used as medicine and food, but, ah…” She laughed softly. “Very dangerous to actually get and bring back. Those zebras you met earlier were probably foraging for some. Incredibly perilous, that, much more than I could do. Idube here, maybe.” She nudged Idube in the shoulder.

“Do not try to flatter me,” said Idube. “I may be a jungle guide, but to be a harvester is far beyond my league.”

“Only because you don’t push yourself,” said Livingstone. “Now, last reason, right? Finally, and this is important, yes… We live out here because of the jungle. It’s so dangerous, it makes Bandari Mji hard to get to. No one comes out here if they don’t have a really good reason. See…” She rubbed the back of her neck. “You were probably wondering what I was doing in an almost-empty warehouse, yes? Well, it’s actually technically illegal.”

“What?” yelped Twilight, her eyes widening. That was just great. Her contact with royalty was a criminal. Okay, “technically” a criminal, but that didn’t really change anything. That could explain why getting to the king would be a mite tricky. She stood up out of her chair. “Just wh-”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on now,” said Livingstone, putting up her hooves. “It’s for a good cause. Calm down and let me tell you, okay, yes?”

Twilight held her position, staring at Livingstone. On the one hoof, she was breaking the law. Good intentions or no, that couldn’t be good for getting them to the king. But on the other, if she was so isolated out here, did anybody know she was breaking the law? They still had a chance. And maybe she was telling the truth about it being a good cause.

Eventually, Twilight chose the latter and reluctantly settled back into her seat. “Hit me,” she said. She could at least give Livingstone a chance to explain herself.

“Alright, so,” said Livingstone, “it was just after the last time I’d arrived here, about six years ago. I’d come to Bandari again. And one day I’d heard about this law that had just gone into effect. It forbade zebras from leaving Zebrabwe. Didn’t give a reason or anything, just said no. Now, normally, that’s not a problem, Zebrabwe’s got more than enough stuff within its borders and zebras rarely leave. But there’d been rumors of some zebras, who’d heard about me and previous adventurers who’d come over and decided they wanted to see what Equestria was like.”

Twilight’s doubts started sliding away; she could already see where this was going. Livingstone was trapped here by something she didn’t — couldn’t — see coming and was probably just looking for a way to get back to Equestria, maybe with some zebra adventurers in tow. Of course, she could be completely wrong about that, but that didn’t seem likely. What else was there?

“So Bandari Mji is a kind of… secret gathering place for zebras who want to leave Zebrabwe for Equestria,” said Livingstone. “They hear rumors, and the really dedicated ones come here. Why do you think that you just happened to run into zebras who spoke Equestrian? I’ve been teaching them for when they head over. Unless they get really good at it-” She nudged Idube. “-and then they start teaching others. We’ve been trying to build a ship, but zebras…” She coughed. “…Let’s just say that they are not exactly great shipbuilders.”

“Not at all,” said Idube, shaking her head. “We have never felt much need to expand into the sea.”

Livingstone spoke up again. “I’ve wanted to leave, but, well, that law. It’s why I haven’t been back in years. I mean, do you really think I love it here so much that I’d immediately drop absolutely everything in Equestria to move here?”

Idube fired a dirty look at Livingstone.

Livingstone didn’t notice. “I do love it here, don’t get me wrong,” she continued (Idube’s glare softened and she quickly buried her muzzle in her food), “but when I decide to stay here, I’m going to get all my affairs in order back in Equestria first and tell everypony what’s going on. It’s just that we’ve been trying to help get the law repealed or secretly build an oceangoing ship for a good amount of zebras, and we, we’re not really that great at either, no. That warehouse? That’s my starting point when — if — we finally get it all sorted out.”

And Twilight’s last bits of doubt were gone. It was hard to fault Livingstone for being a criminal when her “crime” was just trying to get home, and she wasn’t even hurting anybody. If it counted against her (which it probably didn’t, if she was this isolated), oh, well. Maybe Twilight could argue her case. She could be good at arguing.

But there was something in Livingstone’s explanation that just didn’t add up. Something that Twilight couldn’t put her hoof on. It was that annoying sensation where she knew something was wrong, but rather than being able to point to what was wrong, she had to go with the vague, “I can feel it.”

Livingstone was still talking. “Your friend over there, Zecora-” She pointed across the table at Zecora, who perked up slightly at the sound of her name, but didn’t say anything. “-she must’ve gotten lucky and found an opening when she left. But when you’re transporting a lot of z-”

And then it clicked in Twilight’s head. Or rather, she figured out what didn’t click. “Actually, wait hang on.” She glanced at Zecora. “You didn’t hear of anything like that when you left Zebrabwe, did you? You didn’t mention it at all earlier.”

Zecora pulled her muzzle from her third helping of pilipili hoho, swallowed, and shook her head. “Believe me, I was unaware a law like that had been declared. I had faced no opposition when I left on my expedition. If laws had tried to block my path, I would have told you when you asked.”

“How long have you been in Equestria?”

“In years? Just four and not much more.”

Twilight turned back to Livingstone. “But you said you came here last time just as the law was going into effect, and you came here six years ago, right?”

“Correct.”

“Something’s up,” Twilight murmured as she tapped her chin. “Zecora should’ve heard about the law, one way or another. She can’t’ve just not heard about it and sailed off towards Equestria.”

“Y’don’t suppose how y’all heard about the law was faked, was it?” Applejack asked. “Can’t see why, but maybe there’s something goin’ on with that.”

But Idube shook her head. “We learned about the law through a missive, and it has King Inkosi’s own seal on it. If it is a fake, it is an exceptionally clever one that is probably more trouble than it is worth.”

“Stranger and stranger,” muttered Twilight. “So do you think that’ll affect us at all? We’re foreigners. Are we going to have to go politicking? I hate politicking.” To put it mildly. Whenever she had to do some political finagling to get something done, it left a bad taste in her mouth. It just didn’t seem right, to have to do something completely unrelated to what you wanted done in order to get results.

“Honestly, I can’t say,” said Livingstone with a shrug. “You might be welcomed with open hooves, you might be thrown out immediately, you might be greeted with a resounding eeehhh. We never heard any reason for the law, so it’s impossible to say why it’s been passed.”

“Great,” said Twilight, convincing nobody. She was missing the situation in Equestria already. She never had to go in this blind in Equestria.

“And I’ve tried to get to King Inkosi,” said Livingstone, “tried to ask her what’s go-”

“Wait, hang on,” said Applejack. “I hate to derail this, but… ‘her’?”

Livingstone and Idube exchanged glances. “Yyyyeah,” said Livingstone. “Inkosi’s a mare.”

“But you’re callin’ her ‘king’. Why ain’t she queen?”

Livingstone and Idube exchanged glances again, this time for longer. Eventually, Livingstone sighed and said, “It’s a linguistics thing. With a few exceptions, Zebran nouns make no distinctions between gender, and rule of Zebrabwe goes to the firstborn child regardless of gender, so I just translated the title of their ruler as ‘king’ and the ruler’s spouse as ‘queen’. It fits more with the semantics of Zebran that way.”

“Pardon?” Applejack asked, cocking her head.

“The ruler of Zebrabwe is called a king,” Twilight said, “whether they’re a stallion or not.”

“Oh. Why didn’t y’say that?”

Livingstone’s eye twitched and she looked like she was about to hurl a chair through a window. Twilight sympathized. But before anything could come of it, Idube cleared her throat very loudly and said, “Our attempts to contact Inkosi and find the intent behind this law have all ended in failure.”

“Yes,” said Livingstone, emptying the remainder of her glare on Applejack. “We’ve never been able to actually get through to Inkosi at the court, and have always been rebuffed.” She stared at Twilight, her eyes boring into her. “But now? It’ll be pretty suspicious if she ignores a diplomat with an offer of alliance from another country. You might be able to help us.”

It was an admirable goal. The problem was that it wasn’t the goal Twilight was here for. If it was up to her, she’d help Livingstone, but she had obligations to a whole country that she needed to fulfill. “I… I don’t know,” she said. “I’d like to help, I really would, and it hurts me to say this, but I don’t think I can afford put aside my o-”

“Oh, heavens, no!” said Livingstone, recoiling a little. “You’re an ambassador, Princess, I could never ask you to abandon your own mission to help little old me! It’s just that our goals kind of align, so you could help us if it’s on the way, yes.”

Zecora looked up and swallowed her mouthful of pilipili hoho. “It seems to me, point of fact,” she said, “that you should scratch each others’ backs. Your first steps are both of a sort: get Twilight to Inkosi’s court. Once she’s there, the stage is set to ensure both your goals are met. From there? Well, I cannot know.” She shrugged. “We shall find out as we go.”

Much better. “Okay, that, I can do,” Twilight said with a nod. “So do you have a plan to get me to… What was the capital’s name, again?”

“Kulikulu,” said Livingstone. “And, yes, yes I did. I was planning on taking you right there tomorrow, in fact.”

Idube frowned. “And how would you plan on doing that?” she asked. “Kulikulu is miles away.”

“We’ve got a spare impundulu, don’t we?” responded Livingstone. “I’ll ride that, and Princess Twilight and her guards can come fly with me. The rest of her party will have to take the long way, but…”

Her voice slowed to a halt as she realized that everyone was staring at her, even Idube and the previously silent Stormwalker and Cumulus. Silence had fallen with the force of a 10-ton weight. Livingstone shied back as she looked at everyone in turn. “What?”

“You want me to leave my friends behind?” Twilight asked incredulously.

“No!” protested Livingstone. “They’ll come to Kulikulu, b-”

“Will they be coming with us tomorrow, yes or no?”

“Well, n-no,” Livingstone said quietly, “but-”

“Exactly what in tarnation makes you think that’s a good idea?” asked Applejack. “Why can’t we all just travel together?”

“W-well, it’s,” said Livingstone, “I, it’d just be a good idea to get Princess Twilight through the most dangerous part as fast as possible, to be sure nothing happens to her, a-”

“I’m so glad you’re lettin’ us still go through the jungle,” muttered Applejack.

“We’ve only got one impundulu!” said Livingstone. “Look, if, if I could take you all at the same time, I would, but there’s not enough room to take you all on!”

“Then why are you splitting them up in the first place?” snapped Idube. “Does it not make much more sense to keep them together and ensure they all reach Kulikulu in one piece, at the same time?”

“I-it’s… I mean…” Livingstone looked away from everyone for a moment. “Princess Twilight’s the most important one, yes? So why not get her past the most dangerous spot ASAP? If anyone else in her group could fly, I’d say, absolutely, they can come with us, but they can’t, so… It’s, it’s not personal, alright? It’s just the way the cards are falling.”

It was, in Twilight’s opinion, a stupid way for the cards to fall. This created all sorts of issues they didn’t need. Splitting the party could only lead to trouble. And even if the jungle was dangerous, it couldn’t possibly be so dangerous that she and everyone else couldn’t travel across it together with some help, right? She had plenty of magic, and if zebras went through the jungle without it, surely she could go through the jungle with it.

Livingstone was still talking. “Look, in the time it takes for your friends to get to Kulikulu, you can learn the protocol for the royal court, alright? It’s, it’s hardly necessary, but it’ll get you into Inkosi’s good graces easier. And that’ll make your job easier, and… and… yeah.” She swallowed. “It’s, I know it’s kind of awkward, but I think this is the best course of action, yes.”

Twilight fold her ears down and glared a devastating Princess Glare at Livingstone, who tried to take it but couldn’t help quailing back. “And what about a translator?” Twilight asked. “If I have to leave Zecora behind-”

“I’ll translate,” Livingstone said hastily. “I wrote the book on it. Literally. I wrote the first and so far only Equestrian-Zebran dictionary. And no offense to Zecora, but she hasn’t been in Zebrabwe for years. I know what the political situation’s like, and I’ve been in the court. I know I’m not as familiar as her, no, but I’m more knowledgeable in the specifics, yes.”

Livingstone wasn’t going be dissuaded. Not for anything. Maybe, if this was back in Equestria, Twilight could bring the weight of the last few years of her princesshood into play. But Livingstone had barely known her for two hours and was still adjusting to the idea of Luna being a princess, let alone some random pony she’d never heard of. Twilight was sorely reminded of politicking and how much she hated it.

“Fine,” she scowled. “I’ll go with you tomorrow.”

“Okay, um, good,” said Livingstone. “That’s, um, good, yes.”

For several extensive moments, no one said anything, or even ate their food. They just sort of picked at it, no one wanting to look up. Then Idube loudly cleared her throat and nearly shouted at Spike, “So, tell me: what, exactly, does coal taste like?”

Twilight leaned over the railing of the Log Flume, staring down at the water. She could’ve gone into Bandari Mji, looked around a bit, tried to see some of zebra culture. But she didn’t. She just felt too drained after that lunch.

She’d brought Spike, Applejack, and Zecora along to Zebrabwe because they needed to go with her for whatever reason. And now she felt like she was just… abandoning them. She wasn’t, of course, they’d meet back up in Kulikulu, but now she was leaving them behind so she could go on ahead. Even if they slowed her down, she ought to stay with them.

And would it all be worth it, anyway? Exactly what was there to gain from just her going straight to Kulikulu? Time, sure. But time was one of the few things they weren’t lacking. They had plenty of time. They had oodles of time. Twilight had planned on this trip taking a few months; a few more days here and there wouldn’t make much of a difference. She could learn some of the formalities of the court, but that would mean Applejack, her aide, was behind, and that could cause all sorts of awkward.

It was Livingstone’s… “fault” was too strong a word, but it was the closest one Twilight could find. Livingstone’s fault. Why was she so pushy about Twilight leaving tomorrow? Shouldn’t she have learned a little more patience in the past six years? I’ve waited half a decade, I can wait another week. Or had her patience just run out a long time ago? I’ve waited half a decade, and I’m not waiting much longer. Twilight could sympathize with the latter, at least; she seemed alright, but Livingstone could be hiding some severe homesickness. She hadn’t planned to stay in Zebrabwe, after all. She could have a family, told them she’d be back in a year, and then found herself unable to go back. That, yeah, that could make someone want to push a bit harder.

Twilight decided she’d ask Livingstone about it tomorrow, hopefully in some roundabout way. She’d give her an out, since that was a personal question, but she’d find the answer if she had any luck.

Behind her, someone cleared their throat. “Your Highness,” Stormwalker said, “I think you’re looking at this the wrong way. Livingstone just wants to protect you. I agree with her, we should get you to Kulikulu as fast as possible.”

“Really,” muttered Twilight. “And just leave the rest of my friends behind?”

“Yes.”

It was the matter-of-fact way she said it that made Twilight whirl on her. She was just standing there, her face a complete blank slate. “So, what,” Twilight snapped, “you think it’d be okay to abandon the rest of the party in the jungle if it’d keep me safe? Is that it?”

“I never said that,” said Stormwalker. Her voice hadn’t changed one iota in tone, pitch, or volume, and her body language was the same as ever. “Don’t put words in my mouth. It wouldn’t be okay, but it might be necessary. Princess, you are, unequivocally, the most important person for miles. It’s my job to keep you safe. And I will keep you safe.”

“You’d be doing a fine job of it, making the Princess of Friendship ditch her friends to save her own skin.”

“I hate to break it to you, Princess, but not everything can be solved with friendship. If I had to abandon the rest of the party to keep you safe, I would. I wouldn’t like it, but I would do it. Even so, it’s unlikely that something that bad would happen, but better safe than sorry.”

Twilight glared at her and turned back to the ocean. “Glad to see you’ve got your priorities in order,” she said darkly.

“As I said before, you are the most important person here. It’s good that you’re humble, that you downplay it, but that doesn’t make it any less true. And because of that, for me, your safety is absolutely paramount.” There was a clip-clopping of hooves on wood as Stormwalker walked away.

If it was possible, Twilight felt even more drained before. The worst part about it was that Stormwalker at least had a point. She was the most important person around, or at least the most important Equestrian. She was the whole reason they were here. She was the one all the hopes of friendship with Zebrabwe were riding on. If anything happened to her, that could mean the end of it. Not for forever, but for a long while. With Celestia and Luna tied up with their celestial bodies and Cadance in the Crystal Empire, it was unlikely someone as high-ranking as her could afford to come here for a long time.

But although the logic was sound, it didn’t make her feel any better. If anything, the very idea of “leaving your friends behind is justified” made Twilight feel all the more miserable. And the thought of losing Applejack, or Spike, or Zecora just so she could be okay was… She didn’t want to think about that.

Someone else spoke up. “Hey, Twilight.”

“Hey, Applejack.” Twilight couldn’t even muster up much emotion for that single sentence.

Applejack walked over and leaned on the railing next to her, her brow furrowed with concern. “What’s up, sugarcube? You look down.”

“It’s nothing,” mumbled Twilight. “I’m just being silly.”

“No, y’ain’t,” said Applejack. She chuckled softly. “Really, Twi, y’all should know better’n tryin’ to lie t’me by now.”

“It’s…” Twilight sighed and ruffled her mane. “We shouldn’t be splitting up tomorrow. You and I and all of us should be staying together until we get to Kulikulu. If the jungle’s really as dangerous as Livingstone says it is, it makes a lot more sense to have me and my guards along to help with protection.”

“I know. Believe me, I think we should stick together, too. But I don’t think this is just about you. I think Livin’stone’s scared somethin’ might happen to you, and then that might strand her here.”

“Huh? What do you mean by that?”

“Twi, we’re the first ponies she’s seen in years. I don’t doubt she likes it here, but if she wanted to come back to Equestria even just a little at first, that might grow an awful lot. And we’re the first chance she’s got for gettin’ back. Considerin’ how many ponies come to Zebrabwe, maybe the only chance she’ll get.”

“So,” Twilight said slowly, “she’s afraid that if I go into the jungle and die, she’ll be stranded here forever.”

Applejack nodded. “Exactly. That might shift your priorities a bit, don’tcha think? She’s hidin’ it well, but I think she’s panickin’ at the mere thought of you gettin’ lost in the jungle, now that she knows she has a good chance of gettin’ through to the king.”

“I can handle myself! There’s only a one percent chance something will happen to me! Point one percent, as a matter of fact!”

“And for her, point one percent is probably point two percent too many. But she probably doesn’t know it’s only point one percent.” Applejack looked Twilight in the eyes. “You and I both know you’re more’n capable of this. But Livin’stone? She doesn’t know that. She didn’t see us fight Nightmare Moon, or Discord, or the changelin’s or…” She waved a hoof. “All the rest, y’know? She doesn’t know we’re heroes back in Equestria.”

“I guess,” said Twilight, “but-”

“Hang on, I ain’t done yet. Her only experience with princesses is with Celestia, which ain’t much of an experience at all, for most ponies. She probably thinks your life is all cushy, and you’re one of those blowhards who thinks two or three steps into the Everfree is the same as, well…” Applejack gestured towards the shore, at the jungle. “…goin’ deep into a jungle. She’s afraid you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

An idea popped into Twilight’s head, and she pulled her forelegs from the railing. “Then I’ll tell her about all that,” she said determinedly, taking a step towards the gangplank. “She’ll know all about what we’ve done, and th-”

Applejack darted between Twilight and the gangplank (it wouldn’t matter much, thanks to Twilight’s wings, but it was the principle of the thing) and lightly put a hoof on her chest. “Hey, now, it ain’t that easy. Y’really think she’ll believe all that? Just think a little about all we’ve done, and then try to tell that all to somepony who’s already skeptical of your abilities.”

Twilight slowly put her hoof down on the ground and groaned internally. Applejack was right, of course. Everything she and her friends had done sounded like some silly, disjointed adventure serial. She could already see Livingstone’s reaction. And after we defeated Nightmare Moon, protected our town from a dragon, ended years of animosity between buffalo and frontier settlers, re-sealed a spirit of chaos, and calmed down a giant rampaging dragon, we prevented a bunch of changelings from invading Canterlot during a royal wedding, and- Hey, hey, where’re you going? This is the totally honest, not-at-all-made-up truth, I swear! I’m not done, I haven’t gotten to how we saved a lost empire from its evil ruler or reformed the spirit of chaos! I haven’t even been made princess yet!

And, really, that was just the tip of the iceberg. Her and her friends’ exploits were almost too unlikely to be true. It was possible — neigh, probable — that there were ponies in Equestria that didn’t believe all of them, even though those ponies could’ve been witness to those events themselves. Livingstone didn’t even have that much. Why should she believe them?

Stupid isolationism. Stupid lack of stupid contact. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid.

Twilight hung over the railing and muttered angry nothings. “This is stupid. This is so stupid.”

“I know, sugarcube, I know,” said Applejack, patting her on the back. “But it won’t be forever. We’ll be back together in somethin’ like a week.”

“I know that. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Me neither.” Applejack glanced over her shoulder and flicked her tail. “And watch out, here she comes now,” she whispered.

Twilight looked around Applejack. Livingstone was slowly coming up the gangplank, alternating between staring at Twilight and staring at the boards beneath her hooves. Applejack quietly walked away, giving Twilight and Livingstone their space.

Livingstone slouched up next to Twilight. “Hey, Princess,” she muttered.

“Just Twilight,” Twilight said, not looking at her.

“Huh?”

“No titles. I don’t like titles.”

“Oh. Sorry, Twilight. Um, listen.” Livingstone kicked at the deck. “I know you don’t like the idea of leaving tomorrow, and I can understand that, but I-” She glanced away. “I’ve only got your best interests at heart.”

Do you? thought Twilight.

“It’s dangerous out there, yes,” continued Livingstone, “but if you and I and your guards go tomorrow, we’ll skip the worst of it, and we can get to Kulikulu by evening. And you’re the most important pony here, so, so it makes sense to get you around the risky bits quickly.”

“But not my friends,” said Twilight flatly. “They need to go straight through the jungle.”

“They’ll be in good hooves!” protested Livingstone. “I’ve been arranging a group of zebras to help them get through the jungle and to Kulikulu. They’ll be safe. Idube’s leading them, and I know her. Believe me, your friends will be safe, provided nothing goes catastrophically wrong. It’s just if you and I go, there isn’t a chance for anything to go catastrophically wrong, no. If I could take them with me, I would, but I can’t.”

Your friends will be safe, provided nothing goes catastrophically wrong. Oh, sure. Like that was encouraging. Twilight sighed. “Can I at least bring Spike along?” Even if he was a dragon, he was still a baby dragon, and probably at the most risk of any of them.

“That’s your dragon, yes? You’ll carry him? Then sure, as long as you can keep flying.”

That was something, at least, but compared to what Twilight wanted, it was barely anything. She sighed again and slouched over the railing a bit more.

Livingstone stepped up next to her and hung her forelegs over the railing. “I know this is hard for you,” she said softly, “and it might be hard for you to get to sleep. So, um, if you want, yes, you can use one of the guest rooms in my house tonight. It’s not much, but they’re comfy, and they don’t rock like this ship does.”

It sounded nice, Twilight had to admit. But she wasn’t in the mood for nice. “No thanks,” she said, “but I think I’ll be fine here tonight.” It helped that the protected nature of Bandari Mji severely lessened the amount of rocking of the Flume. Twilight suspected she’d sleep better tonight than she had on the trip over.

“…Okay,” said Livingstone. She shuffled her hooves around. “If, if you want to see what Bandari Mji is like, I’d do it now, and, remember to say your goodbyes tonight. We’ll be leaving early tomorrow, and I mean early.”

4 - It Wouldn't Hurt to Have Wings

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“Early”, as it turned out, meant “around 5:30 in the morning” early.

“Come on, Princess,” said Stormwalker, lightly jabbing her in the ribs.

“Don’ wanna,” mumbled Twilight, and rolled over in her hammock. She’d managed to get a good night’s sleep, and had gone to bed early in preparation, but 5:30 in the morning was 5:30 in the morning.

Stormwalker poked her again, harder this time. “Princess, stop trying to slack off. This is your job. You’re doing a disservice to Equestria. Get up.”

“Fi’e mo’e min’tes,” moaned Twilight.

“Let me try,” said someone else. It sounded like Spike, but it couldn’t be Spike, not after he’d slept in yest-

Twilight yelped and jumped out of her hammock as a bucket of water hit her. It wasn’t cold, but it was still a shock to her system. She fell to the ground, sopping wet and her legs and wings in a tangle.

She rubbed her eyes and looked up. Stormwalker was standing above her, looking impassive, while Spike was standing over her, holding a still-dripping bucket and grinning from frill to frill. “What was that about not sleeping in?”

“Laugh it up, Spike,” Twilight muttered. She shook herself off, drenching Spike and Stormwalker. “Laugh it up.”

“Breakfast” was essentially a grab-and-go thing Twilight shoveled into her mouth without even tasting. Anything to cut down on the time. Once she’d gathered together the few things Livingstone had said she’d need, Twilight was off the ship and heading into Bandari Mji along with Spike, Stormwalker, and Cumulus.

But as she walked, she turned thoughts over in her head. It’d occurred to her yesterday: was Livingstone trying to manipulate her?

On the one hoof, the whole thing was a bit suspicious. Yes, I’ll be your translator, rather than the one you brought. She could hold both sides of a conversation that way. Basically get whatever she wanted, as long as she was smart.

But was she that smart? If she was, there was no reason she couldn’t go through the jungle with them and then ensure an “accident” happened to Zecora. Oh, what a darn shame. At least you’ve got me to help! It wouldn’t even need to be fatal, just something that’d make it impractical for her to be a translator. Maybe break some ribs or something.

And the timing. She’d never suspected ponies had been coming until yesterday, and it’d only been a few hours before she suggested the plan. Could she really have come up with a plan in that time? Or was she just winging it? Surely she couldn’t be winging it; Twilight had had the strength of mind to come across the ocean, she wasn’t going to be that easily manipulated on the fly. Maybe with planning, Twilight admitted to herself, but not on the fly. Right?

But given all that, if Livingstone trusted Applejack and Zecora with Idube, why didn’t she trust Twilight with Idube, too? Was she that paranoid about Twilight’s safety? Or was it something else? She might just be panicking, but if she was, she was hiding it awfully well.

It was all very confusing. But if Livingstone was honestly bringing them to Kulikulu, Twilight decided she’d just have to be alert.

Livingstone was waiting for them at the edge of the docks with a lantern attached to her saddle. She looked as alert as ever. “Come on,” she said. “Follow me.” She headed into Bandari Mji and the jungle.

Yesterday, Twilight hadn’t gone too far into town; the jungle was too intimidating. The front of town was welcoming enough, both in environment and in citizens, but after a while, Twilight had looked at the trees shadowing the streets, remembered everything Livingstone had said about the jungle, and conveniently noticed something closer to the harbor she wanted to check out. She could go in if she had to, easily, but for a casual stroll, it wasn’t something she wanted to look at.

So in spite of Bandari Mji’s small size, Livingstone was taking Twilight to places of the town she’d never been to. Twilight couldn’t help but glance around nervously and try to make out what was beyond the light of Livingstone’s lamp and her own horn. The unfamiliar noises she was hearing out there weren’t helping things, ranging from simple birdsong and rustling bushes to moans of some big animal she didn’t want to imagine.

Suddenly, they broke out of the jungle into a large, circular clearing. On the other side, a few torches dimly illuminated part of the framelike outline of a colossal building. It was impossible to make the whole thing out.

A guard was posted outside the entrance to the building. As Livingstone began speaking with her, Twilight examined the building. Actually, up close, it didn’t look like much of a building at all. It wasn’t framelike, it was a frame, a domed array of crisscrossing bars with a large door, three or four times the size of a zebra, between the torches. The spaces between the bars were a bit too small for a normal-sized pony to fit through, although it was too dark to see what was on the other side, even with the torches. If Twilight was being honest, it looked more like a birdcage than a building.

…Livingstone had never actually said what an impundulu was, Twilight realized.

The guard opened the door and waved Livingstone through. “Wait here,” Livingstone said. She walked into the building (cage?) and began wandering around, squinting in the darkness. After maybe half a minute, she started yelling at something Twilight couldn’t see. The something squawked. It sounded like a bird, but a very big one.

Something started crackling softly and flickering in the dark above Livingstone. It looked like lightning, but like it was behind something. The tone of Livingstone’s voice changed; Twilight couldn’t make out the words, but it was the same soothing tone of voice Fluttershy used to calm frightened or surly animals.

Another squawk came from the cage, and something landed on the ground. It was hard to see clearly; Livingstone’s torch only made out a large shape the size of two or three zebras. Still using the soothing tone, Livingstone slowly began walking towards the door of the cage, occasionally looking back and making “come on” motions. Finally, she was outside the cage. “This,” she said, motioning behind her, “is an impundulu.”

A large bird, large enough for a zebra or a pony to ride, cautiously stepped into the light of the torches. It had a lean, narrow body with a long, thin beak, like it was designed to cut through the air. Its feathers were a muddy brown and tucked close to its body. Its legs were thick and powerful and tipped with short, but sharp, claws.

Spike, Stormwalker, and Cumulus all took a step back, but Twilight leaned in close, fascinated. None of her books had ever talked about anything like this before. The impundulu might not’ve been anywhere near the size of, say, a full-grown dragon, but it was still the largest bird she’d ever seen. “It’s so… big,” she whispered. Obviously. “What do you do with it? And what’s it doing out here?”

Hearing her, the impundulu surveyed the ponies and squawked plaintively. It rustled its wings, and Twilight saw a few bolts of lightning crackling underneath them.

As the guard began getting out a saddle and bit for the impundulu, Livingstone kept talking. “We do all sorts of things with them. Mail carriers, one-zebra transportation, things in that vein. But mainly weather direction. You know how ponies use pegasi for that? Well, zebras use iimpundulu and their riders. Get them up in the air, move clouds around, that sort of thing.”

The guard must’ve tightened the saddle a bit much, for the impundulu shrieked and began flapping its wings. With each flap, a small bolt of lightning shot down from its wing tips and scorched the ground. As the zebra shied back, Livingstone darted up next to the impundulu and started stroking its neck, crooning softly. The impundulu’s calls quieted to croaks and its flapping slowed.

As she kept stroking its neck, Livingstone turned back to Twilight. “Most cities and towns have a cage or an aviary of some kind to hold iimpundulu, just in case, even if there’s only room for one. And Bandari Mji’s isolation is the main reason there’s only one here now, yes.”

Twilight took another few steps toward the impundulu. It stared at her with an eye that was both beady and giant at the same time. She looked down at its talons, where minuscule lightning bolts were still sounding off with tiny little zaps. Where do they come from? she wondered. She’d seen nothing in Equestria like an animal that could summon lightning at will. Clouds had to practically be bribed in order to get lightning from them, but here w-

“Are you ready, Twilight?” asked Livingstone. In the time Twilight had looked down, she’d somehow managed to climb up into the saddle and get her hooves into handles on the impundulu’s reins, and now she was staring down at Twilight. “Come on. We should go.”

“Actually, can you hang on a moment? I’d like to see the inside of the cage quick a second.”

“If you must, but please, make it quick.”

Twilight pushed a little more magic through her horn to make her light brighter (the impundulu squawked yet again) and quickly glanced inside the cage. It looked almost exactly like a bird cage blown up; it had the bars, the roosts crisscrossing the empty space inside, the water trough, everything. Even the droppings. Twilight pinched her nose.

It was also empty of any other iimpundulu (which struck Twilight as a really awkward plural), and didn’t seem to have enough space for two or more. Evidently, Livingstone was at least telling the truth about not being able to take any more than herself. Twilight reassured herself that at least she had her guards if anything went wrong.

She left the cage. “And I’m good. Spike?” Spike clambered onto her back with a hop. “Ready. Lead the way.”

Livingstone nodded and, with a twitch of her reins and a yell, sent the impundulu climbing into the sky. Twilight lost her for a second in the darkness, then made out the black of her silhouette against the dark blue of the night sky. With Spike clinging to her mane, she followed after, Stormwalker and Cumulus close behind her.

They climbed for a long time, to the point that Twilight could make out orange tinges in the sky that’d been hidden by the curve of the earth from the ground. She couldn’t make out much, unfortunately; it was still much too dark.

Livingstone leveled out and had the impundulu fly a circular holding pattern. “Everyone here?” she asked. “Everyone good? Good!” She wheeled the impundulu around and headed for the beginnings of the sunrise.

It was both a shame and a blessing the impundulu was slower than most pegasi. They flew at an easy pace. It was slower than Twilight would’ve preferred, but she could keep it up most of the day. As the sun finally crested the horizon, Twilight could make out more than vaguest details in the sea of green spread out beneath her. The jungle was thick, with practically no holes in the canopy aside from rivers and the occasional clearing that had been cut down to make a village. It was unfortunate Applejack and Zecora had to travel through it. Fortunately for them, the thickness of the green dwindled as it neared the mountain range Twilight had seen yesterday, eventually vanishing altogether as it climbed the slopes. She couldn’t see much beyond the mountains yet, but she could just make out more green. However, it looked like a lighter, more welcoming green, so it could’ve just been grasslands. She’d have to wait and see.

No one talked much, even taking the physical exertion of flight into account. Stormwalker and Cumulus weren’t the kind to chat during flight, Twilight was still a bit surly over separating from her friends and the possibility of betrayal, and she suspected Livingstone was trying to avoid her.

Spike cleared his throat. “Still mad, Twilight?” he asked her.

Twilight glared ahead for a few moments, but eventually admitted, “Yeah. I’m being petty, I know, but we shouldn’t leave… Who am I kidding, you already heard that a hundred times yesterday.”

“Thirty-seven, actually. And that’s just what you said to me.”

“You counted?” Twilight asked, turning around to look at him.

Spike nodded. “This is completely new, so I thought you’d want to keep track of the statistics.”

“Thanks, Spike,” said Twilight, smiling in spite of herself. “I don’t know how we’ll use those stats, but…”

“Hey, it can’t hurt, right?” Spike said with a shrug.

“Right.” Twilight looked back ahead, back at Livingstone and the impundulu. Livingstone glanced back at them, just to make sure they were still following. Her eyes met Twilight’s for the briefest of moments, then she snapped back ahead.

Assuming she’s not after me, was I being too hard on her? Twilight thought. There was expressing your dislike of someone’s plan to them, but Livingstone looked like she didn’t even want to be noticed by Twilight. That was something else entirely. Of course, she had expressed her dislike an awful lot… How many times? If only she’d kept track of- “Hey, Spike?”

“Hmm?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a record of how many times I told Livingstone I didn’t like her plan, would you?”

“I don’t think so. Give me a second to check.”

Because if she’d said it too often, Livingstone might interpret that as a passive-aggressive expression of dislike of her, when she was doing her best to keep Twilight safe. Really, you can only tell someone it’s a stupid plan before they start reading between the lines and suspecting you’re adding that they’re stupid for making it. It was a stupid plan, but Livingstone, on the other hoof, wasn’t stupid in the slightest. She couldn’t be, not if she’d come to Zebrabwe several times over and apparently gotten into the king’s court.

Assuming she wasn’t lying, of course.

“Sorry, Twilight,” said Spike, “but I couldn’t find anything.”

“Didn’t think so, but thanks for looking.”

“Anytime.”

“And, uh, Spike?”

“Yeah?”

Twilight gestured forward. “Do you think Livingstone’s lying about why she’s taking us to Kulikulu?”

“Lying?” Spike snorted. “Come on, why would she be lying?”

“Well, I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“Seriously, Twi, what could she do that wouldn’t be easier with her getting you on her side?”

“She could try to control the conversation she’s translating.”

Spike laughed nervously. “Uh, no. I, I know that from experience. That might work for a little while, but it’ll break eventually. She’d forget something she said earlier, or you or the king would react in a way that didn’t match what she claimed to be translating, or something else. There’s just too much going on in a diplomatic mission for that to work.”

“Hmm. Maybe.” Bereft of any other possible explanations, Twilight looked forward again. Livingstone was still staring resolutely forward.

I need to talk to her, thought Twilight. At least find out what she thinks of me. If we stay in silence like this, it’ll only build into animosity. If she’s got other plans for me, that’ll make her more vindictive. And if she’s actually going to be my translator, that… is not a relationship I’m interested in seeing.

When, though, was the question. Flight wasn’t the best time, not with the wind. It wouldn’t do them any good for her to wait until they reached Kulikulu. But Livingstone had said they’d take a break or two along the way, at least one for lunch. That’d probably be good. It didn’t seem likely that they’d be stopping yet, so Twilight decided to wait the few hours until noon.

By the time noon came, they’d passed over the mountains. Beyond them lay, quite simply, the largest grassland Twilight had ever seen.

Equestria had grasslands, true. But they weren’t this unbelievably massive. Once they’d left the mountains behind, it stretched from horizon to horizon in every direction. She’d thought the jungle had been a sea of green, but this was an ocean of green. It threw her sense of scale all out of proportion; small gray dots were actually animals several times her size (Livingstone called them “tembo”) or enormous rock formations jutting out of the ground (Livingstone called them “kopjes”). Even the zebran towns scattered around the plains looked tiny. The unearthly, indescribably, bigly hugely hugeness of it all literally boggled the mind.

Twilight forgot her worries for a moment as she soared above the grassland, slack-jawed by it all. Nothing in Equestria could compare to this. Not by a long shot.

Eventually, Livingstone said they should take a rest and get lunch. Twilight wholeheartedly agreed; she was getting hungry and her wings ached like never before. She’d never flown for that long before, and now she was feeling every second of it.

They landed on the cool surface of one of the kopjes, dozens of feet above the ground. Livingstone pulled out the bit from the impundulu’s beak and let it fly off. “It needs to hunt,” she said to the surprised Twilight, “and it’ll respond to this.” She showed Twilight a whistle she’d been storing in a bag. “Once we’re done, I blow the whistle, and it’ll come right back.”

“Oh.”

But after that, they mostly lunched in silence. It was even more awkward than in the air, now that they were all in close proximity. Stormwalker and Cumulus didn’t seem to mind, but Livingstone spent all her time incredibly interested in either her food or a certain crack on the rock surface. Twilight kept opening her mouth to say something, saying nothing, and closing it again. Spike looked between the two and started giving Twilight disapproving looks. Finally, Twilight said, “What’s up with this plan?”

Livingstone twitched. “What, what do you mean?” She was trying and utterly failing to sound surprised.

“You’re not doing this just for my safety, are you?” Twilight did her best to seem nonconfrontational. If Livingstone had ulterior motives, she could always ramp it up. If she didn’t, it’d be a lot harder to come back down.

“Heh. Noticed that, did you?” Livingstone ran a hoof through her mane. “I, I suppose I should’ve just told you this already, yes. But I, it’s, I don’t know why I didn’t say anything.”

Twilight wanted to scream, Get on with it! But she just flicked her tail and let Livingstone go on.

Livingstone took a deep breath. “I’m not just doing this for me, no,” she said. Her voice was getting a bit quavery in that way that was hard to fake. “It’s… I’ve got a wife and kids back home. Well, they’re not kids kids anymore, no, they’ve grown up, but… you know. And I would be just fine staying here for years and years if I could just let them know I was okay and doing fine. They’re used to me being away for a while, yes, they have been ever since my first trip over. But I was only supposed to be gone for a year, not six. Or more.”

She looked down at the ground and sniffed. “For all I know, they’ve probably already had my funeral. I can’t say I blame them, they knew this was going to be risky. But… but I just want them to know that it’s not my fault that I’m not there for them. And getting you to Kulikulu as fast as possible is one of the easiest ways to do that.”

She looked back up at Twilight. “I’m sorry I ripped you from your friends like that. Really, I am, and in hindsight, I was being greedy. And, and stupid, for not just coming out and telling you that.”

“Really stupid,” said Twilight before she could stop herself.

Livingstone nodded glumly. “Indeed. But I’m not getting any younger, and I want to be able to see them again before I die.” She paused and her voice steadied. “I also want to guarantee your safety for the sake of guaranteeing your safety, yes — you are a princess — but I can’t pretend my personal desires have no influence on this.”

And there was Applejack’s guess. It wasn’t enough for Twilight to completely forget what Livingstone had done — she couldn’t just come out and say why she was doing this to Twilight — but it was hard to hold a grudge for that particular reason, especially since Livingstone seemed genuine. She cleared her throat. “In that case, I’m sorry.”

Livingstone looked up, frowning. “Hmm?”

“I’ve been kind of unfair to you, haven’t I? You just want to get me to Kulikulu quickly, and I go and whine and moan about it all the time.”

“Perhaps a little,” Livingstone said. She grinned oh-so-slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

“So, I’m sorry,” said Twilight. “It’s, I don’t know.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Maybe being a princess and having things almost always work out the way I want has spoiled me, and I was taking it out on you. And that’s not fair, you know this place better than me. You’re the pony with the most knowledge of Zebrabwe, after all.”

“I highly doubt it,” said Livingstone, dismissively waving a hoof. “I’ve been here a few times, yes, but I d-”

“No, really,” Twilight said seriously. “I tried to do some research on Zebrabwe before I came here, and your books were always the best-written ones, especially since you’re a primary source. Primary sources on Zebrabwe are few and far between, so I read your books cover to cover multiple times.”

“Devoured, more like,” Spike stage-whispered to Livingstone. “You should’ve seen their spines. Totally broken.”

Twilight ignored him. “And you even have them on a wide range of topics. You know the most about Zebrabwe of anypony.”

“Really.” Livingstone grinned a bit more. “That’s a new one. I’ve never been the top of my field in anything before.”

“So, yeah,” said Twilight. “I shouldn’t’ve just dismissed your plan like that because I didn’t like it. I still don’t like it, but it’s not that bad.”

“I can live with that, yes,” Livingstone said. She nodded. “Apology accepted.”

And that was that. Simple, really. Twilight wasn’t sure why she’d struggled so much to say, but hindsight was 20/20. And if that was all Livingstone wanted, she could help a little, even if they kept going to Kulikulu. “Spike, we have quill and parchment, don’t we?”

“We should,” Spike said. “Just one sec.” He pulled open a bag and began rummaging around in it. “I’m pretty sure I pa- Here we are!” He withdrew a quill in an inkwell and a blank scroll. “You want me to take a letter?”

“Yes, please.” Twilight cleared her throat, put on her Dictating Voice, and looked off into the distance. “Dear Princess Celestia, we arrived in Zebrabwe yesterday, and thus far, there has been nothing particular of note to report. However, I thought that I should bring to your attention that we have found a guide to take us to the zebras’ capital, who is actually an earth pony from Equestria: Dr. Livingstone of Canterlot University, who has made several expeditions to Zebrabwe in the past. Due to complications, her most recent journey here has run much longer than expected, and she has been unable to return to Equestria. She would like to tell her wife-” Twilight paused and looked at Livingstone. “What’s your wife’s name?”

“Dewdrop,” prompted Livingstone. “If you ask around Canterlot U about me, you should be able to find her, yes. How are you going to send the letter?”

Twilight nodded and continued, ignoring the question. “-her wife Dewdrop, as well as the rest of her family, that she is alive and well, and sorely regrets being unable to see or contact them. The rest of the party is fine, and we hope to speak to the zebras’ king soon. Sincerely, Princess Twilight Sparkle.” She paused, then asked Livingstone, “Does that sound good?”

Livingstone batted an ear for a moment and chewed her lip. “I think so, yes. Could you add that I love her and always will? Just that.”

Outside of her vision, Spike glanced at Twilight and made a “wlah, sappy” face, but added it on anyway. “Done!” He breathed out a plume of flame that enveloped the scroll. A sparkling haze of smoke carried the ashes up and to the west, in defiance of the wind.

As Twilight watched it go, she asked Spike, “Has Celestia said anything about the effects of distance with regards to your letter-sending? We’re well outside any distance you could send letters to her in Equestria. Do you think it’ll affect travel time at all?” She stood up and began pacing. “Or maybe not all the letter will make it. Or maybe the information will degrade to illegibility in the transit! Or-”

Spike flicked her on the muzzle to get her to stop. “Maybe a little, but this is pretty simple magic. It’s pretty unlikely that anything bad will happen.”

“I sure hope so,” said Twilight, lightly swatting him back. “And if you’re right, maybe we should consider sending Celestia updates. Not necessarily daily, but whenever we accomplish something important.”

“Celestia doesn’t need to know where you are, Twi. She trusts you. If I were you, I’d only send a letter if something really really good happens, or if something really really bad happens.”

“Maybe.” Twilight ruffled her mane a little. “I just thi-”

“You send letters by incinerating them?”

Twilight and Spike turned to Livingstone, who was staring slack-jawed at Spike and blinking a lot.

“Celestia taught me,” said Spike. He puffed himself up just a little. “I’ve been Twilight’s number one assistant for years, and this was a way for the two of them to keep in contact easily.”

“But… but you incinerate them…” said Livingstone. She rubbed her head. “I know, magic, yes, but I saw it burn, not just disappear.”

“It’s a trans-spatial reconstitutional spell,” said Twilight, “and dragonfire’s actually uniquely suited for it. Normally, it’d require a lot of magic to break an object down to its constituent atoms for transportation, but dragonfire is so hot that-”

“Blah blah, something something magic something blah,” said Livingstone. “No offense, but that’s all I’m hearing. Earth pony.” She shrugged.

“Hem. Sorry.”

“You know, zebras don’t have any of this magic malarkey, no,” Livingstone muttered. “They can indirectly harness the most basic of magic, but-”

“Hang on,” said Spike. “I think…” He hit his chest with a fist and, with a gout of fire, coughed up a scroll into his outstretched hand, embossed with the royal seal.

“That was fast,” said Twilight. “And it all looks intact. Guess you were right, Spike.”

Livingstone made a sound like a laryngitic parasprite getting stepped on. “And you… you burp up the responses?” she said weakly.

“Yeah,” said Spike. “It’s not bad, ju-”

“You. Burp up. The responses.”

“…That’s what I s-”

“You burp up the responses?!” Livingstone half-screamed, waving her hooves around. She leaned in and stared at Spike’s chest. “What in the sweet mother-ducking hayseed is going on in there?!”

“It’s magic!” said Spike, his eyes wide as he backed away. “Biology’s got nothing to do with it!”

Livingstone blinked and sat back on her haunches, rubbing one leg against the other and her ears folded. “Hem. Right. Yes.”

“Anyway…” Spike gave Livingstone an odd look as he broke the seal. “Twilight,” he read, “I am glad to hear you have already found a route straight to the zebra leadership. Your mission will be much easier than I expected. Moreover, I have heard of Dr. Livingstone, a-”

Livingstone squealed a delighted squeal more commonly associated with teenage fillies and the current popstar targets of their affection. “Princess Celestia knows who I am?! Eeeeeeeee!” She started pronking around the campsite, still squealing. Twilight and Spike alternated between staring at her and staring at each other.

Livingstone suddenly froze mid-pronk and looked at Twilight and Spike. Her face was so red it was in danger of going out of the visible spectrum. “Sorry,” she said, so quietly it was almost inaudible, “but that’s very exciting, yes.”

Spike coughed and continued reading. “-I have heard of Dr. Livingstone, and am quite pleased to be alerted to her continued survival, as many have assumed her to be dead. I will pass on your message to Dewdrop; I am sure she will also be pleased to hear that her wife is doing fine. Sincerely, Princess Celestia.”

“And there you go,” said Twilight. “Your family knows what’s going on now.”

“That’s… Thank you,” said Livingstone. She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes with a foreleg. “Thank you. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“It was nothing,” Twilight responded, waving a hoof. “Really, if I’d known you felt that way, I’d’ve done that earlier. Don’t worry about it.”

“But… but I ne-”

“You’re taking us to Kulikulu. If you really think you need to repay me, that’s payment enough.”

“Still, thank you.” After a pause, Livingstone glanced at Stormwalker and Cumulus, eating off to the side. “You two don’t talk much, do you?” she asked.

Stormwalker glowered at Livingstone over her food. “I’m paid to protect Princess Twilight, not talk.”

“Oh. So you’re that kind of bodyguard.” Livingstone turned to Twilight. “I am so sorry.”

Stormwalker glared and went back to eating.

“And your excuse?” Livingstone asked of Cumulus.

Cumulus didn’t bother looking up. “I don’t talk much.”

Livingstone waited a few more seconds for Cumulus to continue. When he didn’t, she said, “…And you are that kind of bodyguard.”

“Yes.”

5 - Welcome to the Jungle

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Twilight hadn’t woken Applejack up that morning to say goodbye. That was fine by Applejack; they’d said goodbye to each other last night, because, well, 5:30 in the morning, but she still found herself looking for Twilight for a few minutes before she remembered herself.

“You ought not worry about Twilight,” Zecora said at breakfast on the Flume. “I am quite sure she’ll be alright.”

“‘Course she will,” said Applejack. “I ain’t worried in the slightest, I just wanted to see her again before she left and forgot the obvious.”

“Well, she’s fine, and I’m sure you’ll be fine,” said Ponente, “so it’ll all end up fine. Good luck on your trip, by the by.”

“Speakin’ of which, why ain’t you comin’ with us to Kulikulu or whatever it’s called?”

“I,” Ponente said, thumping her chest, “am the captain of this fine vessel. As such, it is my duty to ensure its safety. Even if that means staying with it at all times and not going into the incredibly dangerous jungle filled to the brim with monsters and hazardous terrain and what have you and instead remain sitting here peacefully in this beautiful town.” She grinned smugly. “Such a shame, ain’t it?”

Applejack huffed.

Idube poked her head into the room. “Do not dawdle,” she said. “We are leaving in half an hour.”

Yesterday, Livingstone had at least been kind enough to set Applejack and Zecora up with a zebra to take them to Kulikulu. Idube, of all coincidences, had this as a job: she escorted travellers from Bandari Mji through the jungle to the outside and vice versa. She didn’t do it alone — she had about a dozen plus a few zebras to help — but she was the leader and the most experienced.

“Trust me, you’ll be fine,” Livingstone had said. “Idube, she’s good at this, yes. She’ll get you through, right as rain.”

Which didn’t make Applejack any happier about being separated from Twilight, but at least now she didn’t feel like the jungle would devour her the moment she set hoof outside of Bandari’s borders.

They were going by boat for the first part of the trip (Applejack wanted to punch someone for forcing her to take yet another watercraft). The main river that fed Bandari Mji’s lake was deep, wide, and slow, perfect for transportation if you overlooked the inherent danger in the jungle. Idube used a pair of boats that resembled tugboats, of all things; not much else besides a broad deck in the back for cargo and a cabin that held the controls, the coal-burning furnace that powered the engine, and a select few vital amenities. The decks had been loaded up yesterday with the food they were taking, as well as Equestria’s gifts to Zebrabwe. On the front, each boat had a mounted crossbow, more like a ballista, with a bow longer than Applejack and a lot of crazy-sharp bolts. “Deterrence,” Idube had said. Applejack didn’t want to see them used.

As Zecora and Applejack tried to make their way to the riverboats, scant minutes before departure, they were stalled by a gradually thickening crowd. Friends and family of the crew going with Idube were there to see them off, and with over a dozen crewmembers, that quickly added up to an awful lot of zebras.

Applejack got separated from Zecora when a few foals ran between them and pushed them apart. Zecora vanished into the crowd, but Applejack had to take a step back to avoid stepping on the foals. By the time she got her footing again, Zecora was gone.

Not just gone, gone gone. Ponies had coats that were all the colors of the rainbow, and plenty more besides. Zebras had black and white stripes, as well as black and white stripes, plus black and white stripes, in addition to black and white stripes (not to mention black and white stripes). It would’ve been trivial for Applejack to find Zecora in Equestria, but here in Zebrabwe, she tried staring into the black-and-white-striped crowd and got achy eyes for her trouble.

Her breathing picked up. This was not good. Not when Zecora was her translator. Think, cowgirl. What does Zecora have that the others don’t? Jewelry, actually. Other zebras had it, too, but none of them were quite as bedecked with it as Zecora was. She started looking again, this time keeping an eye out for the specific golden glint of Zecora’s “bling”, as Rainbow Dash called it.

And… there. Applejack spotted Zecora’s neck rings and earring through the mass of zebras. She ducked and lightly pushed her way through the crowd. Zecora didn’t seem to be looking for her, instead getting into the first of the two boats. Applejack clambered onto the boat after her.

Weird. Zecora wasn’t looking for her in the slightest. In the background, Idube yelled something and the boat pushed off. But Applejack didn’t pay any attention to it. Without Zecora, she wouldn’t be able to talk with anyone, and that would make for one boring boat ride.

“Hey! Zecora!” Applejack called out.

No response. Zecora walked over to one of the cargo boxes and tested its restraints. Why was she doing that? Other zebras would do that.

Applejack trotted up to her. “Hey, Zecora, I-”

Zecora turned to look at her, only it wasn’t Zecora; it was another zebra entirely. It wasn’t even a zebra mare; as best Applejack could tell, this particular zebra was a stallion. He had the same general sticky-uppy hairstyle as Zecora, the same jewelry, he was about the same size as her; with Applejack not used to zebras’ stripes, he looked an awful lot like Zecora from a distance. But he definitely wasn’t Zecora.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t speak Equestrian.” His voice was clear, crisp, and weirdly stilted in that specific way that meant he’d learned the line phonetically, rather than knowing what each word actually meant.

Applejack could feel the blood rushing through her veins into her face. How could she make a mistake like that? It’d be like a zebra mistaking her for Pinkie Pie or Fluttershy. She felt like every zebra on the boat was staring at her, even though they weren’t.

“Sorry, sorry,” muttered Applejack. She started staring at the deck and pulled her hat down over her face. “I thought you were someone I knew, and…” Her voice trailed off. He’d just told her that he couldn’t speak Equestrian, hadn’t he? Stupid.

“I don’t speak Equestrian,” the zebra said again, and went back to checking the supply ropes.

“Sorry,” Applejack mumbled, and slouched away.

Well, so much for that. She started looking at the other zebras on the boat, trying to find Zecora. But she couldn’t see her. Lacking coat colors for easy identification, Applejack tried to look for Zecora’s rings among the crew, but she couldn’t see anything of the sort.

But what if she…

It was an idea Applejack really didn’t want to ponder, but it was the only one left. She went for the back of the boat and started squinting at the one following them. Because if Zecora wasn’t here, that meant she was probably-

Yes, she was. Zecora was standing on the front of her boat, surveying Applejack’s. They locked eyes and froze. Embarrassed, Applejack raised a hoof and waved at Zecora. She attempted to grin. Even though she couldn’t see it, she didn’t think it was convincing.

Zecora opened her mouth, like she was going to say something. She slowly closed it. She slouched a little, sighing a sigh Applejack couldn’t hear. Then she planted her face in her hoof and slowly shook her head.

And so now Applejack was on a boat where she couldn’t speak the language of anyone on board. Some of the zebras would speak Equestrian, but she didn’t know which ones, and if she tried going up to one and talking to them and they didn’t speak Equestrian, she’d look like a massive tool who hadn’t tried to learn the language.

Even setting aside the language barrier, Applejack felt like a stranger, an outsider, somepony who didn’t belong. To say she stood out like a sore hoof would’ve been an understatement. Even Zecora had stripes, but Applejack? She was orange in an island of black and white in a world of green. The only way you could’ve missed her was if you were blind. Where zebras had weapons, surprisingly gaudy jewelry, or snakeskin outfits focused on practicality, Applejack just had her hat that served no other function than looking nice. (Very, very nice, though.) She wasn’t even the right size; Zecora, although the size of a pony, was small for a zebra. Everyone on the boat had a few inches on Applejack, most of them had more. One of them was even a whole foot taller than her.

Applejack settled in near the back of the boat (it was called the stern, right?), away from most everybody else. As long as she didn’t bother the zebras, they wouldn’t stare at her and her freakish coat too much. The boat’s engine hummed beneath her hooves, constantly reminding her that she wasn’t on good, stable earth. But the boat stayed fairly level, not the constant rocking and tilting of the Log Flume. She could live with this.

She tried to relax a little, but the air was hot, muggy, and smelly. She constantly felt ready to break out in a sweat, but it never came. Bugs constantly pestered her, zipping in close and buzzing in her ear whenever she let her guard down for more than a few seconds. Eventually, her legs and tail began aching from their constant swatting. None of this seemed to bother the zebras much. It was their indifference to the bugs that really riled Applejack; she could live with the weather, but the bugs were close on unbearable.

With no chances at conversation and a bazillion little gnats buzzing around her like a cloud made of bugs, time crawled. It didn’t help that the trees blocked a direct view of the sun. She could make a guess at the time, but without a way to see the sun, she was lost. She tried looking at the jungle; it helped a little. While not particularly interesting, it was always changing, at least. And in spite of the way it felt like the nastier parts of the Everfree, at least it wasn’t actively trying to kill her. Yet.

But Applejack liked to do stuff. At least on the Flume, there were things she could do, even if it amounted to cleaning out the bilge (ugh). On the boat, she just sat and watched the jungle go by and didn’t talk with the zebras and sat and watched the jungle go by and didn’t talk with the zebras and sat and watched the jungle go by and didn’t talk with the zebras and sat and watched the jungle go by and didn’t talk with the zebras and sat and watched the jungle go by and didn’t talk with the zebras and sat and watched the jungle go by and didn’t talk with the zebras and blah de blah de blah and after several hours the lack of anything happening was utterly unbearable. There wasn’t even enough room on the boat for her to pace around.

Applejack sighed and looked down at the deck, counting the number of whorls in the floorboards. She slipped into autopilot, and when she couldn’t decide whether she was at 67 or 68, she realized one of the whorls wasn’t in the floorboards; it was a thin rope lying discarded and abandoned on the deck. It looked to be a fine rope, strong and tightly woven but still thin and flexible. It showed enough signs of age for Applejack to know it’d been well-used, but not enough for her to doubt its integrity.

She followed the rope, and both ends were untied. It must’ve been a spare someone had forgotten about. Probably wouldn’t be missed. That put an idea into Applejack’s head, and she tested the length. A lot longer than she would’ve preferred, but that was fine. She’d just coil up the slack.

She took one end and began tying a loose knot. It could’ve been tricky for her, being an earth pony, but she’d been tying knots of the same kind practically since she could walk. This was easy.

Once the knot was done, Applejack slid the other end of the rope through the loop she’d left in the knot, and bang: a good, old-fashioned lasso, something she could relate to. She began twirling it. It felt good, bending easily where it should. Out of habit, she began looking around for something to catch.

She turned and dropped the lasso in shock, one end dropping overboard. A zebra mare was sitting just a few feet from her, apparently having come up while she was working on the lasso. The zebra wasn’t large, as zebras went, but it was still enough for Applejack to scooch back an inch or so. Her mane was cut incredibly short, almost to the point of being shaved off completely, and for jewelry, she had (Applejack cringed) a nose ring. On both forelegs, she had some kind of rotatable sword gauntlets. At the moment, the blades were stored and level with her legs, but Applejack knew a flick of a hoof would have them out and ready at a moment’s notice, if trouble arose. She was staring very intently at Applejack, not attempting to hide her curiosity at all. Yeah, I think you’re weird. What’re you gonna make of it?

Applejack smiled halfheartedly, fished the lasso out from where it was trailing in the water, and said the absolutely most important phrase to know in Zebran, the one she’d committed to memory and that would serve her well in her time in Zebrabwe. “Samahani. Sizungumzi Kipundamilia.” Sorry. I don’t speak Zebran. It was slow and halting, and she tripped over the specific syllables; Twilight said it was see-zoo-ngoo-mzee, but Applejack couldn’t help but say it see-zoon-goom-zee, no matter how hard she tried. But it was still semi-coherent Zebran. Hopefully, it’d be enough to dissuade the zebra.

No dice. The zebra merely cocked her head the other way, kept staring, and said, “My Equestrian is not good very, too.” Her accent was thick enough that Applejack had to think a bit to fully get what she said, and her words were, if anything, a little bit slower than Applejack’s. But she could still speak Equestrian where Applejack couldn’t speak Zebran.

Applejack tried to go back to her lasso, flick the water off of it, but she could feel the zebra’s eyes boring into her. After a few fruitless moments, she looked up at the zebra again. “What’re you lookin’ at?” It came out a bit more hostile than she intended, but if the zebra didn’t want to attract that sort of response, she shouldn’t go around staring at people.

“You.”

Well, if nothing else, she was honest. And blunt. (Of course, Applejack complaining about either of those would be a tad hypocritical.)

“And that.” The zebra pointed at the lasso. “What is that?”

“What, this?” Applejack looped the lasso over her foreleg and held it up so the zebra could see it better. “Y’ain’t never seen a lasso before?”

The zebra blinked at Applejack and flicked her ears.

Applejack bit back a groan and reorganized her thoughts. “Y’all’ve- You have never seen a lasso before?”

“No,” said the zebra. “That is… la-so?”

“Lasso,” Applejack said, nodding.

“Lasso,” repeated the zebra. “Lasso lasso lasso. What is it for?”

“We use it to catch critters wh- To catch animals when they’re bein’ all panicky. We throw it, and… Actually, why don’t I show you?”

“If you can.”

Applejack took a quick look up and down the boat. It looked like she had enough space. “Can y’all move back a little?”

The zebra nodded and shuffled a few feet away from Applejack. Applejack took a few steps back of her own, bit down on the end of the lasso, and began twirling it above her head. Although it wasn’t the rope she usually used, it was still flexible enough to work just fine. The zebra stared at the lasso, entranced, her muzzle making a small circular motion as she followed its path.

After a second, Applejack flicked the lasso at the zebra. It arced smoothly through the air and landed neatly over her head, not touching her until it settled on her shoulders. She nickered a little in surprise, but didn’t flinch. “Vhen,” said Applejack around the cord, “y’all gib i’ a flig, li’e so.” She lightly yanked on the lasso, tightening the loop slightly. The zebra whinnied in shock — the cord was around her neck, after all — and reared, pawing at the loop.

Applejack quickly released the lasso so it wouldn’t strangle her, and the zebra fell to the deck in a tumble. A few other zebras glanced at the two of them, snorted, and went back to whatever they had been doing. The zebra glared up at Applejack, her ears back, and set to work about pulling herself out of the loop.

“And y’all use that to control animals that’re all a-tizz- that’re panickin’,” said Applejack. “You gotta be careful to not choke them, though.”

The zebra managed to get the lasso off her head and slid it back over to Applejack. “You use lassos much?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty good with ‘em, if I do say so myself.” Applejack grinned. “Gotta keep order ‘round the farm, y’know. It ain’t all sunshine and roses all the time. Ehm, it isn’t peaceful all the time.”

“Oh.” And the zebra went right back to staring at Applejack and the lasso.

The good feeling had been building up inside Applejack with some actual communication began bubbling away again. She had to keep this going somehow. “What’s your name?”

“Bhiza.”

“Bizi?”

The zebra shook her head. “Bhiza. Zaaah.”

“Bhiza.”

“Bhiza,” said Bhiza, nodding. “You?”

“Applejack.”

“App-le-jack?”

Now it was Applejack’s turn to nod. “Right.”

“Why are you here, Applejack?”

Applejack’s mind went back to the first encounter with zebras on the beach. Bhiza’s Equestrian might not’ve been the greatest, but hopefully it’d be better than theirs. “Do y’all know what ‘diplomacy’ means?”

After a few moments, Bhiza hesitantly nodded. “Government friendship?”

“Close enough. My friend’s here for that, and- Hey, Bhiza?”

“Hmm?”

“If I say anythin’ y’all don’t understand, just tell me, okay? My translator an- The person who speaks Zebran for me and I got separated, so I might forget that y’all can’t speak Equestrian all that well. Don’t be afraid to speak up.” Already, Applejack caught herself slowing her speech down to make it easier for Bhiza to understand.

“Yes.” Bhiza made a “continue” gesture.

“Alright. My friend’s here, representin’ our government, and she’s tryin’ to get your government to be friends with ours. I’m here to help her with that.” Applejack glanced upriver and muttered, “If’n we’d stayed together, at least.”

“Why?”

Applejack shrugged. “Why not? It’ll make sure we’re never at eac- It’ll make sure we don’t fight, an-”

“No, no,” Bhiza said, shaking her head. “Why did you come with she? Why are you here?”

“‘Cause sh- Because she asked me to help her. I didn’t have a real good reason to say ‘no’.”

“You crossed ocean because she asked?”

“Absolutely. Why not?”

“Dangerous.”

“It could be worse.” Applejack glanced around the jungle a bit, and everything Livingstone had said came to the forefront. “Okay, maybe not that much worse, but still. And I didn’t know it’d be this bad when I came.”

“You come if you knew?”

“Darn tootin’. Um, absolutely.”

Bhiza cocked her head and began smiling. “You are pony brave very.”

It took Applejack a few moments to parse that sentence. “Thanks,” she said. “I try not to make too much of it, b-”

Idube yelled from the front of the boat and within seconds, everyone on the boat went silent. The rumbling of the engines went down several notches and the boat slowed. Even the jungle seemed quiet. And they weren’t just staying quiet; all the zebras had stopped moving and were staring stiffly at the water. They were readying their weapons, the ones that had been untouched for most of the trip.

“Hey,” Applejack said to Bhiza, “wha-”

Bhiza planted a hoof in Applejack’s mouth and vigorously shook her head. Her eyes were wide and her mouth had tightened. She looked over at the water for several moments, then leaned in close to Applejack, close enough for her nose ring to touch Applejack’s muzzle. When she spoke, her words were almost inaudible. “Quiet,” she hissed. “Quiet very, very.” She made a motion just above the deck with her hoof.

Applejack nodded, and Bhiza slowly withdrew her hoof. “What’s goin’ on?” whispered Applejack. “What’s happenin’?”

“Nyokakubwa place,” whispered Bhiza. She pointed to the shore. After a few seconds, Applejack spotted them: several rotting hulks of boats similar to theirs, all overgrown by the jungle, were scattered about. They all had holes in them, at least the size of a pony; some of them had been smashed nearly to pieces. Scattered around them were other bits of debris. Maybe even some bones.

Applejack turned around. There was more on the opposite shore.

She swallowed. Oh boy. Oh boy. Ooooooooh booooooooy.

“Snake big,” murmured Bhiza. “Lives in this part of river. Dangerous. Dangerous very very very.”

“Can’t we go ’round it?” whispered Applejack. Go through the jungle or somethin’?”

Bhiza shook her head. “Jungle is even worse.”

Great.

The boats crept along in near silence. Applejack began to feel twitchy. Just the thought of something big enough to destroy all those boats was making her skin crawl. She wanted to run, but this was a boat; there was nowhere to run to. Even worse, outside the boat was just the jungle.

She started watching the zebras. When the nyokakubwa came out, they’d be the first to see it. If they reacted, she’d… panic, really. There wasn’t much else to do.

One of the zebras tapped her hoof on the railing and pointed at the river. Immediately, everybody turned to look. Something was stirring beneath the water. It was too dark to make out clearly, but it was definitely big. Very, very b-

The something burst out of the water and Applejack’s blood went cold. “Big” was an understatement. It was a snake large enough to swallow a pony whole, and its body was thick enough to crush their boat if it wrapped around it. Its head resembled a grotesque amalgamation of bear and snake; it was like a snake’s head, but thin and tall rather than broad and short. Its mouth was filled with teeth, each at least a foot long, while its front fangs were thicker than Applejack’s legs and several yards long. Two giant tusks curved out and around from each side of its mouth. A long, grubby tentacle hung from its chin, flicking this way and that as if it was looking for something. Its eyes were disproportionately small and beady, filled with anger and malice.

The nyokakubwa turned those beady eyes on their boat. Idube yelled something and the boat’s engines roared to life. Applejack was knocked off her feet as the boat shot forward, speeding for shore.

The nyokakubwa roared and lunged for the boat.

6 - City of Blinding Lights

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Twilight’s party got back in the air as soon as they finished lunch. True to Livingstone’s word, the impundulu had come as soon as Livingstone had blown its whistle. Its beak was a bit bloodstained; Twilight decided to not ask questions.

They spent most of their time flying over more and more grasslands, but now, the silence was less tense, more relaxed. Twilight didn’t feel anxious when she looked up at Livingstone, and Livingstone occasionally yelled back questions to Twilight about her time away and pretty much anything else that crossed her mind. “What kind of princess is Luna like?” “How’d you become a princess and where can I get some of that?” “How’d you know Zecora?” “You were once Celestia’s personal pupil?” “The Crystal What came back?” “The Sonic Rainboom is actually a thing?” “We really didn’t need to split up with your friends at all, did we?” It was a nice change of pace, to say the least.

But the flying was still fairly monotonous, and while the grasslands were pretty, they didn’t change a lot. They flew, and the sun slowly crept across the sky, and the aches in Twilight’s wings slowly grew more and more pronounced.

It was maybe an hour before sundown when Livingstone had them touch down again — not for dinner, just for a quick rest. Twilight didn’t complain in the least. “A bit slower than I thought we’d be going, yes,” she said, “but that’s what getting up early is for. We should reach Kulikulu before dark. If you look over there, you can see it now.” She pointed.

They’d settled on a high crest of hills, forming one side of a valley that stretched off in both directions. Shortish mountains with easy, shallow gradients made up the other, and Livingstone was pointing at a large, dark splotch about three-quarters of the way up one of the slope, several skinny streams flowing away from it. The valley was crisscrossed by a river running the length of the valley thin paths connecting what Twilight guessed were small villages.

However, it puzzled Twilight that Livingstone had said they “should” reach Kulikulu before dark, as if it wasn’t a guarantee. The valley didn’t look particularly large across; they ought to get to Kulikulu before dark easily. Maybe it’d look bigger further up.

“I’m going to up to get a better look,” she said to Livingstone, and was in the air in a second. She climbed and climbed until she was at what she thought was a decent height. Twilight frowned at the valley. From up here, it still didn’t look all that big… But from here, something seemed off. Something she couldn’t put her hoof on.

She pulled out the spyglass and began looking over the valley. For some reason, the focus was being finicky and didn’t adjust right. Twilight panned over the valley, trying to find something specific to look at and compare its size to. But she couldn’t fi-

There. There was a family of zebras on the shore of the river. Two adults on the shore, a few foals playing in the water. That could work. Twilight began panning across the river to get a better idea of how wide it was.

She kept panning.

And panning.

Twilight whipped the spyglass away. From her position in the sky, the river wasn’t that wide. But it was still taking forever for her to get across it in the spyglass. Maybe…

Twilight shook her head and looked through the spyglass again. Now that she knew where the family was, it was trivial to find them again. But, again, it took much too long to get across the river. Hmm.

She went back to the family and started zooming out, trying to see both the whole river and the family. She kept zooming out. And out. And out.

By the time she saw both sides of the shore, the zebras were mere specks. It was hard for Twilight to even tell those dots were zebras; the river looked like a smaller version of itself at this distance.

And then it hit her: her scale was still wonky from the grasslands.

It wasn’t a small valley, it was a massive one, much larger than any she’d seen in Equestria; she’d essentially been seeing it as a miniature of itself. The river was over a quarter-mile wide. The thin paths weren’t paths, they were broad, well-maintained concourses capable of carrying large amounts of traffic. The tiny villages they connected weren’t villages, they were decent-sized towns. The mountains weren’t shortish, they were towering giants. Like the grasslands, everything was just big on a scale rarely seen in Equestria.

And if the valley was that big, then the “small” splotch that was Kulikulu…

Twilight moved the spyglass to Kulikulu. From what she could see, it was bigger than Canterlot. Maybe not as large as Manehattan, but considering the size of Manehattan, that wasn’t saying a whole lot. It ran up the mountain slope like a sheet, easily hugging the ground. The “streams” coming from it were actually large, rushing rivers. At the very top, on a small peak of its own, sat some kind of fortress, probably Inkosi’s palace. It looked almost as large as Canterlot Castle, but given all the screwy scaling Twilight had just dealt with, she wasn’t completely trusting her eyes.

Well. That was something. Twilight dropped back to the ground and stared at the valley with her new perspective. Even from here, it was just… Wow.

Livingstone smirked. “Saw it, did you?”

For a moment, Twilight couldn’t say anything. Finally, she said, “It’s big.”

“No. Really?” Livingstone laughed. “That, my friend, is Bonde Kubwa, the Great Valley. Runs up and down Zebrabwe for miles and miles, yes. It holds a significant portion of Zebrabwe’s population, thanks to the Mtiririko — that’s the river — flowing through it. When I first saw it, my reaction was much the same as yours.”

“I can imagine,” said Twilight. “It’s… big.”

Spike coughed. “You already said that, Twi.”

“Well, do you have any other word to describe it?” said Twilight, gesturing out over Bonde Kubwa. “I mean, look at it.”

Spike took a deep breath.

“Synonyms for big don’t count.”

Spike slowly released his breath.

“So, yes,” said Livingstone. “In a few minutes, we’ll make the last leg of the trip and get you situated in the palace. You won’t have an actual embassy, unfortunately, but you should have a very nice suite as a temporary measure. Inkosi doesn’t do things by halves, no.”

As they approached Kulikulu and the sun began to set, lights came on in Kulikulu. Lots and lots of lights. It was like Manehattan: every building was brightly illuminated. The zebras weren’t shy about their lights, either, with the occasional spotlight panning through the sky to show the way to this or that establishment. And it wasn’t even fully dark yet.

The buildings were kind of strangely placed: they were seven or eight stories high or thereabouts once you got past the outskirts, grew to skyscrapers as you went further inward, then dropped down to four stories at the most past those. Twilight guessed Kulikulu was expanding, with the lowest buildings being the oldest.

“Stay close to me!” Livingstone hollered over her shoulder as they approached the fortress. “And I mean close. With iimpundulu commonly available for flight, the guards of Kulikulu don’t like unauthorized fliers entering their airspace. Stray too far from me, and… Well, let’s just say bad things will happen, yes. Your guards, too.”

“Got it!” yelled Twilight.

No sooner were the words out of her mouth then three black shapes rose up from the palace and streaked towards them. Soon, the group was being circled by three zebra guards, each riding an impundulu, each impundulu with lightning crackling between its talons.

A guard yelled something in Zebran at Livingstone, who quickly replied. Twilight managed to gather that the guard said something like, “State your business.”, while Livingstone’s words were whipped away.

But the guard must’ve been satisfied, for he gestured for them to follow. He and the other two formed an arrowhead, with Twilight’s group following along in a hodgepodge. They were all heading for the fortress.

This close, it was definitely a fortress. Outdated, maybe, but there it remained, completely made of very big, very solid, very beige stones. The small peak it was on wasn’t that much larger than the surrounding area, but it was enough to complicate things for any ground-based attackers. A fast-moving river came at it from the back, split to provide a natural moat for the fortress, and connected together again on the other side before flowing through Kulikulu itself. The only ground route across that Twilight could see was a drawbridge, currently down, spanning the river. Just as Twilight was asking herself about aerial invaders, they crossed the outer wall, and Twilight spotted gigantic mounted crossbows lining the ramparts, each one manned by a zebra.

“They sure do have a lot of weapons, don’t they?” Spike muttered.

“Of course they do,” said Twilight. “This is the home of their king. They’d want to protect her.”

“Yeah, but even Celestia doesn’t have this much.”

“Celestia’s powerful enough to move the sun on her own. She doesn’t need that much. A lot of her guards are just for show. Inkosi doesn’t have that advantage. I think.”

The group crossed the walls without incident and landed in a courtyard near an impundulu cage, much larger than the one in Bandari Mji. It was mostly empty, barring a few zebras attending the iimpundulu and some guards.

As the iimpundulu were coaxed into the cage, the guard that had led them in told them, via Livingstone, to wait there. He went in, but the other two guards stayed behind, chatting between themselves. At first, anyway.

For the first time since coming to Zebrabwe, Twilight really, truly felt like she was being stared at. The guards who’d escorted them in, the guards who’d already been in the courtyard, the iimpundulu attendants, all of them were staring at her and her group. Bandari Mji, at least, had been used to Livingstone, while the zebras here were not.

And not everyone here was even equine.

She glanced at Spike, who was staring at the ground and fidgeting a lot. He looked around at the zebras staring at them — at him especially — then looked up at Twilight. She patted his head. “Don’t worry, Spike,” she whispered. “You’ll get used to it. And they’ll get used to you.”

“I hope so,” he muttered.

One of the attendants took a few steps towards them. Stormwalker thrust her head at him, snarling with her ears back, and flared her wings. The attendant yelped and took a few steps away from them.

“Whoa, hey,” Twilight said, stepping in front of Stormwalker, “you need to cool it, okay?”

“Your Highness, I-”

“Yes. I know you’re supposed to protect me. But you’re overreacting to absolutely everything. If somebody so much as sneezed next to me, you’d probably suplex them on the off chance they were directing an airborne poison at me.”

Stormwalker was impassive. “I’m just trying to protect you.”

“But you’re not helping my image, here,” said Twilight. “This is the first time in history that Inkosi has met an official from Equestria, and how do you think it’ll look if one of my bodyguards goes around looking like she’ll kill anyone who looks at me sideways? You’re just going to get me in trouble.”

“She’s got a point,” Cumulus said to Stormwalker.

“I get that my livelihood is important to you,” Twilight continued. “But if you keep assuming that anyone who could kill me is going to try, you’re going against the whole reason my livelihood is important.”

Stormwalker narrowed her eyes slightly. But she didn’t say anything.

“And no offense to your abilities, but you do remember what me being a princess means, right? I can handle one or two zebras. It looks like Cumulus knows. Are you just trying to force yourself into situations so you seem important?”

That must’ve hit a nerve. Stormwalker folded her ears back and pawed at the ground. She opened her mouth, like she was going to go into a colossal tirade, then snapped her jaw tight shut and turned away from Twilight, glaring at a stone in the wall.

…She was. She didn’t like her role being largely ceremonial, did she? Great. Someone else for Twilight to add to her remarkably specific list of “Ponies I Unintentionally Antagonized”. Considering this was supposedly a diplomatic mission, she really hoped it wouldn’t become a list of “Ponies and Zebras I Unintentionally Antagonized”.

“Sorry,” Twilight said quietly, “but can you try to tone it down a little? Please?”

Stormwalker whipped her gaze back to Twilight. She didn’t say anything, but maybe, maybe, her gaze softened, just a little. Then she went right back to challenging the wall to a staring contest.

Twilight sighed and stretched her wings. “Livingstone, apologize to the zebra and tell him Stormwalker’s having some issues, would you please?”

Stormwalker herself didn’t react.

Livingstone looked between Twilight and Stormwalker, then said, “If you say so.” She started talking to the zebra. From what Twilight could tell, it was pretty much what she’d said, except with maybe a touch more… color.

The zebra laughed a nervous laugh that was covering up his anxiety. She said something to Livingstone, who passed on, “He says he deserved it. I don’t think I need to tell you he’s trying to keep himself out of trouble.”

Twilight threw a Look at Stormwalker. See what you’re doing? “He was fine,” she said to Livingstone. “My guard just overreacted.”

Livingstone relayed this to the zebra, but before the zebra could respond, the guard who’d led them into the palace returned. He said something, which Livingstone translated as finding them a place to stay, and gestured for them to follow.

Inside, the fortress felt just as solid as it did outside, but it was considerably less monochrome. Countless tapestries, in all sorts of bright colors, lined the walls. They were absolutely everywhere, as if having more than two feet of bare wall was a sin (which, considering the drabness of the walls themselves, might actually be the case). The floors and ceilings alike were tiled with all sorts of geometric designs, each one subtly different from the next. The tiles themselves ranged from simple colored rocks to elaborately painted stones to, very rarely, inlaid gems. Complex, tasteful light fixtures with bright bulbs hung from the ceiling.

The halls themselves, however, were surprisingly empty, with only a few zebras here and there, who all gave them an easy berth. At Twilight’s request, Livingstone asked the guard about it. “He says most people don’t come here, at least, not at the moment, no. These are the diplomatic apartments, and there’s not much at the moment. Just us and-” She stopped talking and her face lit up. With a little bit of a spring in her step, she turned back to the guard and started a fast conversation with him, too fast for Twilight to hope to follow. Twilight gave up and went back to admiring the ceilings. When Livingstone wanted to tell her, she would.

As they passed under one of the lightbulbs, Twilight paused for half an instant to look up at it. It felt strange; Equestria had lightbulbs, too — often even in the same design as this one — but they weren’t commonly used, with the far simpler light gems preferred. Of course, with zebras lacking magic, they’d prefer electric lights. But given the amount lights she’d seen outside, the amount of electricity needed would be staggering. Where did they get all the power? And they definitely weren’t lacking for it, not with lights planted on every flat surface outside.

Suddenly the guard stopped and pointed them into a doorway (opened, Twilight noticed, with the same pedal-thing that had previously stymied her). Through Livingstone, she said, “These apartments will qualify as your embassy during your stay here. I hope they prove to be satisfactory.”

A quick look-over showed that the “apartments” had more space than a good-sized house, and they had absolutely everything Twilight’s group could want, plus a little more. There was a kitchen, a dining room, enough beds for their whole group plus Applejack and Zecora when they arrived plus some more, a study, a sort of cross between a living room and a conference room, and, best of all, a fully-stocked library. It was surprisingly homey, when all was said and done. And it had a library.

“Yes,” Twilight said serenely to the guard, feeling like she was walking on sunshine, “this will do juuuust fine.”

Upon hearing Livingstone’s translation, the guard bowed slightly and left.

Livingstone was talking almost immediately, her voice fast and bright. “Now, listen, there’s, I got a really good thing that might work. Uh, uh, wait here, Twilight, please? Thanks, yes.” She bolted out of the room in a flash.

“What’s her deal?” Spike asked.

“No idea,” said Twilight. “But I know what my deal is!”

Stormwalker cleared her throat. “As for me, Your Highness, my deal is not knowing the layout of this place well enough just yet. Cumulus and I are going to examine this place more thoroughly. Just so you know.”

“Yes, yes,” Twilight said, waving them away, “that’s fine.” She immediately made for the library and pulled out the first book she could get her hooves on. She opened it up and began examining the mass of magnificent arranged, beautifully typeset gibberish.

Rrrrrrright. All the books were written in Zebran. Which had a vastly different orthography from Equestrian. Which she couldn’t read. Which was torture. Twilight moaned and planted her face in the book.

“Need to learn how to read Zebran?” Spike asked.

“Yeff.”

“Better hope Livingstone’s a good teacher.”

“Eeyup.” Twilight sighed and replaced the book, staring up forlornly at the shelves.

Stormwalker and Cumulus re-entered the library. “Good news,” Stormwalker said. “The only means of access to these rooms for someone without wings is through the front door.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “You really think someone’s going to try to assassinate me already?”

“There’s supposedly a law forbidding travel outside of Zebrabwe. It’s unlikely, but I wouldn’t entirely discount it.”

That was… unpleasantly reasonable. It was the reason Livingstone had spent six years here, after all. Whatever the cause, it was suddenly easy for Twilight to imagine that some group wanted her dead, or at least incapacitated. She’d have to-

The door burst open and Livingstone, grinning from ear to ear, slid into the room. “JACKPOT!” she bellowed. “Tw-”

Stormwalker dive-tackled Livingstone across the room, and Cumulus quickly joined the pile. After a few moments of wrestling, the two guards froze. “Oh,” Stormwalker said. “It’s you.” She and Cumulus stepped off of Livingstone.

“Goodness!” said Twilight. She was at Livingstone’s side in an instant. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? I can-”

But Livingstone waved her off. “Fine,” she groaned. “Sore, but fine.” She rolled over and slowly got to her feet. “Son of a gelding, that hurt,” she muttered.

“Sorry,” said Cumulus. “Reflexes.”

Stormwalker shrugged. “Also reflexes.” She glanced briefly at Twilight, shuffled her hooves, then went back to Livingstone. “Sorry.”

Livingstone groaned. “Any chance you two can turn off those reflexes?” she muttered.

“Nope. You jump through a door yelling, I automatically think of you as a threat. I did what I was trained to do. You get into that sort of situation, thinking only slows you down.”

“You body-slammed me into the wall!” yelled Livingstone. “Call me crazy, yes, but I don’t want to share a suite with ponies who do… who do that!”

“Then maybe,” Stormwalker said, “you shouldn’t burst through doors at high speeds towards my charge while screaming like a maniac. I tend to associate those with attackers.” Her voice was so completely, utterly level that it was impossible to tell if she was being snide or serious. Or snidely serious.

Livingstone opened her mouth, then rolled her eyes and turned away from Stormwalker with a wave. “Aaannnyyywwwaaayyy,” she said to Twilight through gritted teeth, “I’ve found a friend here; the guard mentioned it offhand while we were walking. I didn’t think she’d actually be here, she’s not from Zebrabwe, but…” She grinned. “This’ll make my job a lot easier, let me tell you, yes.”

Not from Zebrabwe? That was a new one for Twilight. She hadn’t known there were other countries over here besides Zebrabwe. But, oh well. You learn something new every day. “You’ve found another translator?” That was… awfully convenient.

“Even better,” said Livingstone. Somehow, her grin grew wider. “Much much much better.” She yelled something out the door, and in walked…

…a bicorn.

That was actually the best way to put it: bicorn. Rather than the one horn of a unicorn, she (Twilight assumed they were a she) had two, one in the same place as unicorn’s and another, smaller one perched right on the middle of her nose. Unlike a unicorn’s horn, they were both a bit crooked and loopy, not nice and straight. As for the bicorn herself, she was small, at least a foot shorter than Twilight at the shoulder. Her hooves — all four of them — were cloven like a buffalo’s or minotaur’s, and a lot of little hairs hung down from the fetlocks over them. Her tail wasn’t hairy like a pony’s, but fleshy, thin, and wiry, although there was a large tuft of hair at the end. Her coat was mainly a light brown, with a few white stripes on her legs.

The bicorn stopped when she saw Twilight and squinted. She seemed particularly intrigued by Twilight’s wings, but made no attempt to touch them. She said something to Livingstone, who shook her head and replied. Twilight wasn’t sure, but it sounded like the bicorn spoke a different language than Zebran; a language Livingstone spoke as well.

The bicorn huffed. She and Livingstone exchanged a few more words, then Livingstone turned to Twilight and said, “Don’t move.”

Yeah. That was always a reassuring statement. Still, Livingstone hadn’t steered her wrong so far, so Twilight nodded and locked her legs. The bicorn took a few steps towards Twilight, then leveled her upper horn (which looked awfully pointy) at Twilight’s face. Twilight blinked a few times, bit her lip, and her wings twitched, but she still didn’t move.

The bicorn’s horn sparked, and tiny beads of light showered her and Twilight. She looked back up at Twilight and said, in perfect, unaccented Equestrian and a distinctly female voice, “Can you understand me?”

Twilight hesitantly nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

The bicorn sighed with relief. “I was just worried I’d lost my touch. I’ve not used a translation spell in years.”

Something didn’t quite click in Twilight’s head. She heard the words, but they didn’t exactly make sense. “Translation spell?”

“Yyyyes. Translation spell.” The bicorn cocked her head. “Why? Is it not working? Did you hear something wrong just now?”

Twilight shook her head. “No, it’s just… I’ve never heard of a working translation spell before! I’ve heard some of the theory, but they’re supposed to be incredibly complex. You need to account for syntax, morphology, declension, conjugation, and all that, and even then, you need to know both languages inside and out, so you might as well just be a translator so you can pick up on more nonverbal nuances.”

“The… syntax…” The bicorn burst out laughing. “My good mare, it’s not the words that are important, it’s the ideas behind them! You don’t need to account for all the changes in language, just make sure the right ideas get through your ears and the brain will do the rest for you.”

“Hmm. That…” Twilight cocked her head and her face began to light up. “Yeah, actually, that could work. It’d take some doing, but once you got the basic framework down, you could do it. And it wouldn’t even matter which language was coming in! This is amazing! How did you do it?” She leaned in expectantly towards the bicorn, grinning her eyes wide.

The bicorn didn’t seem too perturbed by her personal space being invaded. “It’s relatively simple. First, you need to separate the words from the thoughts. Everyone’s got their own technique, but I do it by-”

Off to the side, Livingstone cleared her throat, “Beg your pardon,” she said, “but given that the two of you are ambassadors, is there any chance you could stop debating magic and start ambassading, yes?”

“Oh! Yes,” said Twilight, blushing. She cleared her throat. “I am Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria.”

“Pleased to meet you, Princess Twilight Sparkle.” Twilight’s name (but not her title) was said a bit more slowly, as if the bicorn was saying sounds foreign to her mouth. She placed a foreleg over her chest and bowed slightly. “I am Consul Uvivi Ukucwazimula of Wilayabada.”

“Um…” Twilight grinned sheepishly. “That’s, um, uh, a, uh, a bit of a mouthful for me.”

“Hmm. What about just Uvivi?”

“That’s fine.”

“Then call me Uvivi. Or Consul. Or Consul Uvivi. They’re all fine.”

Spike coughed. “Hey, uh, Twilight?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you actually understand her? I’m just hearing gibberish.”

“Abadic, actually,” said Uvivi, “and it’s ohmystars you’re a tiny kongamato!”

“Um…”

“It’s not gibberish, it’s Abadic,” Twilight said to Spike. To Uvivi, she said, “He’s actually a dragon. They’re a species in Equestria.”

“Well, he looks like a tiny kongamato. He’s so c-”

Spike crossed his arms. “Hey. Twilight? Can you ask her to do to me whatever she did to you? Because it’s weird sitting here and hearing you two talk to each other when you’re not even talking the same language.”

“Right, right,” said Uvivi. “Give me a mi-”

“Stop talking to me like I can understand you! I don’t speak Abadic or whatever it’s called!”

“He’s cranky, isn’t he?” Uvivi said to Twilight. “Tell him to hold still.”

“Spike, hold still for a second,” said Twilight. “And stop snapping like that, will you, please?”

Spike rolled his eyes and went rigid. Uvivi’s horn sparked again, and she said, “Can you hear me now?”

“Yes! Thank you,” said Spike.

Uvivi glanced at Stormwalker and Cumulus. “And give me a moment while I get your guards, too. Might as well do the whole thing.”

As Uvivi set to work, Twilight asked Livingstone, “I don’t mean any offense to her, but what is she?”

“She’s an abada,” said Livingstone. “They’re further east from here, in Wilaya, yes. Wilaya has a decent relationship with Zebrabwe. And Uvivi is one of their ambassadors. Well, I guess she’s a consul, now.”

“How do you know her?”

“When I got into the Court for the first time, nineteen years ago — wow, was it really nineteen years ago? Sweet Celestia, I’m old — when I came into court for the first time, my Zebran was still rather lackluster, so Inkosi asked the abadas if they would be willing to help. Uvivi was there, she applied a translation spell, and…” Livingstone shrugged. “We became friends, eventually. Haven’t seen much of each other, but enough.”

“Convenient for us, then.”

“Even more than you think. See, the abadas just got here on their own mission, something to do with some abada coal company operating near Kulikulu, and Inkosi’s holding a dinner tomorrow before negotiations, yes, with a few members of Zebrabwe’s nobility who also happen to be in town.” Livingstone rubbed her hooves together. “So, if I’m lucky tomorrow, we’ll be able to get in there as well. The abadas will have precedence, naturally, but it’s a step forward.”

“Really, really convenient.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Uvivi, turning back to Twilight. “And if we’re going to get you into that dinner without having you thrown out for impropriety, we’re going to need to teach you certain things.”

The bottom dropped out of Twilight’s stomach. She knew what was coming. It’d always been coming, but she never thought she’d have to cram it all into less than twenty-four hours. This was going to be terrible. “You don’t mean…”

Uvivi grinned faux-nastily. “Yesssss,” she hissed, “we’re going to teach you and your not-kongamato friend protocol. For starters, if you’re going to look shocked like that, keep your mouth closed. It doesn’t matter how clean your teeth are, we don’t want to be staring at them during a conversation.”

Twilight closed her mouth and swallowed. Of all the things she had to learn… This was going to be a long day.

7 - Snakebite

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Applejack scrambled backward, her eyes wide as she stared at the nyokakubwa charging their boat. It was big. It was big big big big big. And if it-

An arrow longer than Applejack stabbed into the nyokakubwa’s face, fired from the other boat’s ballista. It, too, was making for shore, but the zebras on board were yelling and screaming, trying to get the nyokakubwa’s attention.

It didn’t work. The nyokakubwa hit the boat and hit it hard. The entire back end of the boat caved in, and the boat tilted back under the nyokakubwa’s weight. Applejack slid down and grabbed at the railing. The boat leveled out again as the nyokakubwa raised its head up and roared again.

The roars turned to pained screams as something sliced across its face. A zebra near the back was standing on her rear legs and swinging something that resembled a sword on an elastic cord. On one end was a blade about two feet long; the other was attached to the zebra’s hoof. She was swinging it around like she’d done it every day of her life, frequently wrapping it around one of her legs to shorten the cord. She was yelling like a loon. Her aim was clear: distraction.

The nyokakubwa turned on her, but another ballista bolt from the other boat hit it in the neck. It switched its attention to the other boat, at which point the swordszebra sliced up its face again. The nyokakubwa whirled on her, but this time, it stayed focused even as it got hit again with a ballista bolt.

Still swinging her sword, the zebra began to back up. But her bipedal stance was awkward, and she slipped on the wet decks and fell. She tried to get up, but the nyokakubwa bore down on her.

Applejack reacted the only way she knew how. She jumped forward, standing over the zebra, and bucked out with her hind legs. She hit the nyokakubwa hard and square on the nose; it froze in place, as if shocked that something had actually hit it. It croaked and drew back, shaking its head.

The zebra blinked at the dazed nyokakubwa sliding back into the water, then at Applejack. “Thanks!” she gasped as she gathered her hooves under her.

Before Applejack could respond, something wrapped around one of her legs, and next thing she knew, she was being dragged across the deck. She scrabbled at the wood, trying to find something, anything to grab onto. But there was nothing.

Bhiza yelled and came charging after her, screaming bloody murder. Applejack tried to reach out, but she was too far away.

Then she went over the railing and into the river.

The chill of the water hit her a like lightning bolt; it was all she could do to keep from gasping and swallowing water. The visual world was a confused, shadowy blur of black and dark green, with nothing coherent that she could see. She heard nothing but waves and boat engines, both muffled as it they were miles away. She flailed her legs around. She felt nothing but water, the tug of the current, and the tendril around her leg.

The river was deep, and the nyokakubwa kept dragging her down. Applejack started kicking at the tentacle wrapped around her leg. Maybe she could dislodge it. But it was no good; the tentacle had too firm a grip and she was in no position for her kicks to do any damage.

She kept kicking. Her lungs began to burn. She kept kicking.

She felt a disturbance in the water next to her. The tentacle shuddered and loosened a little. More disturbances. More loosening, and then the tentacle let go completely. Kicking with all her might, her lungs screaming for air, Applejack swam for the surface.

It was hot and muggy, but the air Applejack inhaled had never tasted sweeter. She took deep breaths when she could and life flowed back into her limbs. As she reoriented herself, Bhiza broke through the water next to her, her sword gauntlets deployed. Water was already washing them clean, but they looked slightly bloodstained.

“Thanks!” yelled Applejack.

“Pwani!” yelled Bhiza. “Sasa!” She began swimming away.

Following her, Applejack finally saw the shore. Both boats had been beached on it, although there wasn’t much left of hers. Zebras were scattered about; some of them were bleeding, but it was hard to tell if there was anyone missing. Idube was yelling, directing zebras on jobs Applejack didn’t know. The moment Bhiza was out of the water, Idube pointed her towards the intact boat for something.

Idube noticed Applejack and said, “You! Stay back! I do not want to have to explain to your princess that her assistant was killed because she did not know to stay away from monsters!”

“But I can help! I-”

“Stay! Back!” Idube’s tone of voice said, If you insist on arguing, I will dropkick you away from the river myself.

Applejack huffed. Fine. She’d stay back. But she needed to find- “Zecora!” Applejack yelled to no one in particular. “Where’s Zecora?” If she was gone-

“Do not fear!” a familiar voice called out. “I am here!”

“Zecora!” Applejack yelled again, running over to her. “Are y’all alright?”

“I am fine; at least, this time,” said Zecora. Indeed, she’d escaped almost completely unscathed, with the only injury Applejack could see being a small splinter sticking out of her ear. She was digging through one of her saddlebags and her apothecaric ingredients were laid out around her in something vaguely resembling order. An empty bottle, a mortar and pestle, and some herbs were arranged out neatly off to one side.

“Lookin’ for something?”

Zecora snorted. “I am missing ingredients, I fear.” She looked over her shoulder and grinned. “But they are easy to find out here.” And before Applejack could say anything, she’d vanished into the jungle.

Don’t panic, Applejack told herself. Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic. Zecora knew what she was doing. Right? She wouldn’t just run off into the jungle like that if she didn’t think she could take it. Right?

Trying to calm herself, Applejack turned back to the crowd on the shore. The zebras were mostly concerned with moving the injured away from the water. She didn’t know if anyone was missing, but she couldn’t see anybody that was dead. The boat she’d been in had been smashed almost to pieces, but the other one looked mostly intact, if beached from the speed at which it’d headed for shore. The nyokakuwba itself was nowhere to be seen, but the river was rippling in a way Applejack didn’t like.

Idube was still directing zebras around, yelling and pointing. Cautiously, Applejack trotted up to her. “How’re we doin’?” She decided not to mention Zecora taking off.

“No deaths,” muttered Idube. “Several injured, but no deaths. That is something, at least. One boat down, obviously, but the other one should be useable once we get it back in the river. I do not know if the nyokakubwa will return. But as long as we have this moment of quiet, we will gather supplies.” She barked at a zebra and pointed at the ballista on the broken boat. The zebra nodded, clambered onto the boat, and began digging around at the ballista. Applejack guessed she was scavenging the extra bolts.

The lack of any big movement, with no nyokakubwa around, was somehow unsettling. Applejack lightly pawed at the lasso around her leg, then slowly unravelled it. It was something to do. She looked up at the zebra. Something w-

The nyokakubwa exploded out of the water again, roaring with such intensity that everyone jumped and the trees shook; several zebras clapped their hooves to their ears. Purely on reflex, Applejack began twirling the lasso. The nyokakubwa’s tentacle had had its end severed and it was gushing blood.

The zebra on the boat ducked beneath the railing, but the nyokakubwa spotted the movement and lunged for her. For half an instant, Applejack was terrified, ready to see the zebra get devoured before her eyes.

Then she remembered she was swinging the lasso. And she saw the opening.

Applejack threw the lasso and, with unerring precision, it looped neatly around one of the nyokakubwa’s tusks. She bit down on the cord, dug her hooves in, and yanked with all her might. Given that she was an earth pony who’d done manual labor pretty much all her life, she had an awful lot of might.

The nyokakubwa was yanked to one side, missing the zebra completely and smashing its head into the ground. It pulled back and tried to go for the zebra again, but Applejack pulled again and it missed again. It roared in frustration and tugged on the lasso. Applejack slid a few feet, but no more. She had a grip, and she was not going to let go.

She felt another tug on the lasso — from behind. She chanced a look back; a zebra had taken up some of the extra line and was helping her pull. Applejack gave her a quick nod and redoubled her efforts. With the assistance of the zebra, she not only held her ground, she started pulling the nyokakubwa out of the water.

The nyokakubwa shrieked and tugged as hard as it could. Applejack and the zebra started sliding forward again, but then another zebra bit on the cord and added his own strength. The nyokakubwa was losing again, no matter how much it struggled.

Then it realized that while pulling back was useless, those puny equines could do nothing to stop it from pulling up. It raised itself out of the water as much as it could. The hooves of Applejack and the front zebra left the ground. With most resistance gone, the nyokakubwa started moving backwards into the river.

Bhiza charged the nyokakubwa, jumped, and grabbed onto its chin tendril. Still sensitive from when she’d severed the end, the nyokakubwa instinctively lowered its head to reduce pressure on it. But that only put Applejack and the zebra back on the ground. They pulled on the tusk, Bhiza pulled on the tendril, and the nyokakubwa started coming out of the river again.

Behind them, Zecora yelled something. Bhiza let go of the tendril and rolled away. A bottle trailing green smoke soared through the air and shattered on the nyokakubwa’s nose in a greenish haze. The nyokakubwa stiffened and stopped struggling, although it was still visibly and audibly breathing.

Zecora yelled something else and after a brief pause, Bhiza and another zebra darted to the nyokakubwa’s neck, their sword gauntlets deployed. They began hacking at either side. Blood started spraying them. The nyokakubwa moaned, but didn’t move.

The blood flow got greater and greater. Sickened, Applejack dropped the lasso, took a step back and shielded her eyes with a foreleg. There was just so much of it, enough that a metallic stench began to fill the air. Every now and then she’d lower her leg for a brief glimpse, only to put it back up when she saw that, yep, there was more blood. Bhiza and the other zebra were slowly working their way up the nyokakubwa’s neck.

Suddenly, Applejack was nearly knocked off her hooves by a massive cheer from the zebras. She cautiously lowered her leg; Bhiza and the other zebra were both coated in blood (Applejack gagged), but they were grinning broadly, almost smugly. The head was completely on the ground, tilted at an unusual angle. It took Applejack a few moments to realize what that meant: the zebras’ hacking at the neck had been them slowly decapitating it.

The nyokakubwa was dead.

The zebras were ecstatic, cheering like nothing Applejack had ever seen before. Some of them were dancing. Some were even hugging each other. You’d’ve thought they’d just won every single medal at the Equestrian games. Not just the gold, but the silver and bronze, too. Of course, just surviving that would be cause for celebration, much less actually killing that monster. But it still seemed a bit over-the-top to Applejack.

Bhiza came bounding up to Applejack, half her face taken up by a smile and coated head to hoof, nose to tail in a dripping layer of nyokakubwa blood. It made her look more than a little crazy. “Applejack! We-”

“Y-y’all’re covered in blood!” stammered Applejack. “A-any chance you c-can clean yourself up a tad? Please?” She tried to smile.

Bhiza tilted her head and looked down at herself. After a second, she shrugged. “Yes. Wait, please.” With a swing in her step, she strode into the river and began washing the blood off.

Applejack picked up the lasso and began walking away. But she was stopped halfway; the loop was still around the nyokakubwa’s tusk. The lasso itself was still good, though. (Zebras must have been really good at making strong ropes.) To get it off, all she had to do was go up to the nyokakubwa’s head, loosen the loop, and take the lasso right off the tusk. Easy, right?

All she had to do was go right up close to the hideous severed head of the giant, decapitated monster whose body was still pumping blood by the gallon onto the ground.

Yeah, no. “Uh, hey! Bhiza!”

Bhiza popped out of the water in a manner bizarrely reminiscent of Pinkie Pie. “Yes?”

“Any chance y’all can…” Applejack swallowed. This was silly, asking Bhiza to do something so simple. “…can get the lasso off the nyokakubwa for me?”

Bhiza laughed. “Yes.” She dove back under the water.

Well, that was that. Applejack just collapsed onto the ground. She wasn’t exactly tired, not really, but her heart was pounding in her ears from the exertion, and it felt good to just be able to lie down. On good, solid earth, no less; Applejack was sure that when the diplomatic mission was over, she’d have had enough traveling on ships and boats and all the other kinds of watercraft to last a lifetime, and then some.

Bhiza, soaking wet but nice and clean and devoid of blood, walked up to Applejack, the loop of the lasso in her teeth. “Here.” She dropped it next to Applejack and lay down on the ground beside her, contentment plastered all over her face.

“Thanks.” Applejack rolled onto her hooves and began looping the lasso around her leg again. “You’re lookin’ happy.”

“We killed nyokakubwa,” said Bhiza. “Thing good. Thing good very.”

“What normally happens when that thin’ attacks?”

“Boats gone. Sometimes, zebras die. We make it leave.” Bhiza smiled at Applejack. “Never kill it. This part of river? It is safe now. Good very.” She lightly nudged Applejack. “And you helped us much. You crossed ocean; I knew you were pony brave. But not that brave.”

“Shucks, it was nothin’,” said Applejack. “I couldn’t just sit by and let it attack y’all.”

“You could. But you did not. Are all ponies so brave?”

“No. But Apples’re stronger’n most.”

“Apples?”

“That’s my family name.”

“Ah. Family brave.”

“Yes indeed.” Applejack ran a hoof through her mane and stiffened. In the chaos, she’d lost her hat. Her hat was missing. It may have been just a hat, but it had been her hat. She’d liked that hat. She sighed and put her hoof down.

Bhiza noticed. “Missing hat?”

“Yeah,” said Applejack. “It ain’t much, but-”

“That hat?” Bhiza pointed out into the river, near the wreckage of Applejack’s old boat.

Applejack followed Bhiza’s hoof and almost whooped with joy. There, in the debris floating in the river, she noticed not only her hat, but also a few familiar somethings from one of the destroyed crates. “My apples!” Some of them, anyway. She waded out a ways and, once she’d reacquired her hat, gathered a legful of apples. It was just water, they’d be okay to eat. Assuming they weren’t bruised or anything.

Applejack pushed her pile of apples onto the shore and bit into one. It was still good, and wow this year’s harvest had been tasty. She took another bite. Yeah, now that everything had cooled off, that really hit the spot.

She caught Bhiza staring at her. “It’s called an apple,” Applejack said, holding it up. “Try one, they’re real good.” She plucked another one from her pile and offered it to Bhiza.

After maybe half a second’s hesitation, Bhiza took the apple and cautiously bit into it. She chewed for a little, then took another, much larger bite. “Goo’,” she said around the apple in her mouth. “Goo’ vewwy.”

“Glad you like it.”

Bhiza swallowed and chomped into the apple again. “Your name family is Apple… and these are apples?”

Applejack shrugged. “Growin’ ‘em’s a family business. Been that way for… I dunno how long. Centuries.”

Chewing at the apple, Bhiza cocked her head and made a hmm? sound through her full mouth.

“Hundreds of years.”

Bhiza nodded and swallowed. “Time long. But if you like it, good.”

“Like it? I love it.”

Bhiza flicked her ears, cocked her head, and snickered slightly.

Applejack suddenly remembered “love” was a bit of a slang term, wondered what connections Bhiza had made, and felt her cheeks growing very, very warm. “I mean I like it a lot. I, I don’t mean I… actually love it.”

Bhiza was still giggling as she said, “Good.”

They sat in silence for several moments, munching on apples, before Zecora walked up. “You just put up quite a fight,” she said. “Are you hurt? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” said Applejack. “Didn’t get hit at all.”

Zecora nodded and glanced at Bhiza. They exchanged a few words in Zebran. Bhiza pointed at one of her front ankles, then shrugged. Applejack guessed she was feeling fine.

Idube yelled out to all the zebras assembled, relief in her voice. “She says we can take a rest,” Zecora translated, “so when we leave, we’re not so stressed. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to tend to the wounded and help them mend.”

Applejack shrugged. “Ain’t like you got anythin’ better to do. Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”

Zecora bowed slightly and began walking away.

But then one last thought jumped into Applejack’s head. “H-hey! Zecora!”

Zecora stopped walking and looked over her shoulder.

“While we were fightin’ the nyokakubwa… did you seriously run into the jungle, find the right plants for your paralytic or whatever, come back out, and brew it in barely a few minutes?”

Zecora grinned a grin Applejack had never seen on her before: a smug one. Zecora was never smug. “Not to brag,” she said, “but that is true.” Somehow, she managed to get even more smug. “I’m very good at what I do.” She flicked her head and strode over to Idube.

Applejack dropped back to the ground. With a few minutes to spare before they had to get going, she had nothing to do. So she would do that nothing to the absolute best of her ability. It wasn’t something she’d want to do on the boat, but right now, on the ground, that felt good.

Bhiza spoke up. “Applejack?”

“Yeah?”

“Before we leave again, can you teach I how to use lasso?”

“It ain’t somethin’ you can learn in a few minutes, but we sure as hay can start.” Applejack draped the lasso over her leg and held it up for Bhiza to see. “First, you gotta l- You have to know how to spin it so the loop stays open…”

Once their break was over, they spent a while scavenging in the debris of the wrecked boat, trying to recover what they could. A lot of the diplomatic gifts were ruined, but they weren’t that big a loss (at least, not to Applejack), and they’d been evenly split between the boats. After that, a bit of effort had been required to get the beached boat back into the river. It floated like a charm once it was in the water, though. With all the zebras jammed onto one boat, plus the extra cargo, it was a lot more crowded, but nothing Applejack couldn’t handle.

The rest of the day seemed to pass a lot more quickly for Applejack. Maybe it was the atmosphere; the zebras were jovial, talking and laughing a lot more than they had before the attack. Several of them occasionally came up and patted Applejack on the back. Maybe it was the company; she could talk with Bhiza without Zecora, and now Zecora was actually on the same boat as her. Maybe it was the activity from the fight; she’d spent so much of the past two weeks not doing all that much, but now she’d just helped beat up a giant snake monster. Maybe the boat was just going faster. Whatever the cause, Applejack was surprised when she realized the sun had gone down.

The trees were thinning when they stopped at a sort of way station. It had docks to take multiple boats, but theirs was the only one around at the moment. The station itself was essentially a tavern, with good food and lots of beds for their company. Bhiza explained that, given the size of the jungle, these sorts of stops were almost necessary for zebras traveling to and from Bandari Mji and other such towns. In keeping with the lack of boats, the inn had no other guests.

Applejack may not have understood Zebran, but when one zebra starting talking loudly to the staff, making grand gestures, and everyone listening was gasping, it didn’t take much of a guess to know what she was talking about. We just killed a snake thiiiiiiiis big!

Dinner was… Well, there wasn’t really a dinner. Idube forked over a lot of coins, there was a lot of food laid out for the travellers, and everyone helped themselves whenever they felt like it. Most of the zebras had cleared out a large section of the room and were engaging in an impromptu celebration for their victory that day.

There was music, and lots of it. Mostly drums, but there was also this weird cross between a piano, a violin, and a dance floor. It was spread out flat on the ground and tiled; you jumped on the tiles to play notes. Applejack assumed beginners would stand on it and just hit the notes, but skilled players, like the one currently on it, literally danced out the music. They were playing a tune that seemed to be going nowhere in particular, but was having an awfully fun time getting there.

Most of the zebras were circled around two others, pounding their hooves to the beat of the music. The two zebras in the center seemed to have a back-and-forth type of song going on; one would sing a verse, then the other, then the first, and so on. It was actually kind of appealing, but Applejack didn’t know any Zebran, so she couldn’t understand anything. Every now and then, they’d stumble over a word or two, but they never stopped singing. Were they improvising all that? Wow.

For her part, Applejack sat in the corner, slowly sipping at some beverage she couldn’t remember the name of. It was strong, but deliciously fruity. She wanted to join in, but she still felt out-of-place. Like she’d be interrupting something. The zebras were welcoming enough; it was all in her head.

Zecora sidled over from the bar, a cup balanced on her nose. “You look down,” she said, dropping the cup on the tabletop. “Why the frown?” She took a seat next to Applejack.

This wasn’t the kind of thing Zecora needed get involved in. Applejack wanted to say, “Nothin’.” But she couldn’t. “Y’ever feel like you don’t belong?” she mumbled. “Like y- Wait. ‘Course you do. I did it to you, once.” She sighed. What a great way to start this particular conversation. “I just feel like the zebras… like they don’t like me, ‘cause I’m the puny pony who can’t even get through the jungle without help.”

Zecora took a massive gulp from her cup, downing half of it in one go. “Care not about what others say,” she said, wiping her mouth off. “You proved yourself to them today. You helped them get out of that mess; they know now that you’re not helpless. I beg you, don’t make such a fuss. The jungle takes the best of us.”

“Maybe,” said Applejack. She batted at the straw in her drink. “Don’t stop me from thinkin’ that, though.”

With another huge gulp, Zecora chugged the rest of her drink and hiccuped. “You should at least give them a chance, so come on. You can try to dance.” Patting Applejack on the shoulder, she left her cup on the table and weaved her way into the dance crowd.

Applejack watched her go, thinking. Dancing wasn’t a bad idea, in and of itself, but she’d have to find the right way to get into the c-

Bhiza bounded out of the dance crowd. “Applejack!” she said happily (and maybe slightly tipsily). “Dance!” Even outside of the dancers, she kept bobbing her head and shuffling her hooves in time with the music.

“I’d like to,” said Applejack, “but I ain’t that great at dancin’.”

Bhiza giggled. “That is good! I am not, too! Come!” She held out a hoof.

Oh, why not? It can’t be that bad. Applejack stood up and took Bhiza’s hoof. Before she knew it, Bhiza had whirled her into the crowd, and she was surrounded by dancers, twisting and turning and flailing. It was infectious, and soon she pulling out her own (kind of terrible) dance moves.

And after a few moments, for the first time that day, Applejack no longer felt like an outsider.

They weren’t zebras and a pony in that room. They were travellers. Nothing more, nothing less. They were celebrating a phenomenally successful journey thus far. It was a distinctly zebran way of celebrating, maybe, but Applejack was enjoying it. None of the zebras cared about her orange coat. A few even twirled her in brief, one-off pair dances.

Applejack might not’ve been a zebra. But that didn’t matter anymore.

She kept dancing as the night went on.

8 - Royals

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“Chin up just a liiiiiittle more, yes,” said Livingstone. “She’ll be a little taller than you, so you want to be sure you’re looking her in the eyes without looking like you’re turning your nose up at her. Little more… Aaaaand… there.”

Twilight held her chin there and tried not to clench her teeth. It was the worst part of becoming a princess all over again: learning the protocol. Remember to place your hooves just so, don’t flick your tail more than a foot up if you don’t have to, don’t blink too often, don’t blink too infrequently, measure your breathing so you don’t have to pause mid-sentence to get some more air, keep your legs straight, don’t speak out of turn, blaaaaaaaaaaah. All the formalities were so boring and didn’t actually add to anything, since you were learning them by rote.

The worst part of the worst part was that a lot of zebra formalities were slightly different than pony formalities. The differences were big enough to throw her off and make her go through the already-learned motions through habit, but not big enough for her to put them in a separate category and start cataloguing them differently.

“And Spike…” Livingstone frowned. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do about you, sorry, no. You’re just too short. Just look up at her. She’ll understand.”

“She better,” said Spike.

To somehow make things even worse, when Twilight was finally able to take a break, it was like her worst nightmare: she was in a library, surrounded by books. Hundreds of them, possibly thousands, each and every single one from a brand new culture. She could spend weeks in there, learning the whole time, and not read the same thing twice. But, thanks to her lack of knowledge of Zebran orthography, she couldn’t read any of them. Screw Tartarus. This was pure torment.

But the dinner was now a scant thirty-two minutes and twenty-seven, twenty-six, twenty-five seconds away, and Twilight was beginning to feel like maybe protocol wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“And remember,” said Livingstone, “when you pay homage to her-”

“I know,” muttered Twilight. But it wouldn’t do any good. They’d gone over this particular bit of information three times in the past fifteen minutes alone, and, yeah, it was important, very important, but Twilight was pretty sure it was burned into her memory by now.

“-you don’t want to go all the way and kiss her hooves,” continued Livingstone unabated. Her voice was slowly picking up speed. “She’ll think you’re a brownnoser. In fact, don’t even bow down too deeply. She’ll still think you’re a brownnoser. She doesn’t know you, and you don’t know her, so if she thinks you’re trying to pay respect to her that she hasn’t earned, she’ll assume you’re trying to suck up to her, which means that Equestria either doesn’t really care about who goes or it’s populated entirely by sycophants, s-”

Twilight gave her a light telekinetic smack upside the head. “Stop freaking out,” she said. “That’s my job.”

“You freaking out is bad, yes,” said Livingstone. She tried to smooth down her mane with a shaking hoof. “So I’m freaking out for you.”

“You’ll need to freak out more to match Twilight’s best freakouts.”

“Spike!”

“Well, it’s true.”

“…Yeah.”

It’d been a long day. A long, long, long day, all of it spent with Livingstone, and occasionally Uvivi, drilling manners and etiquette into Twilight’s and Spike’s brains. But finally, it was just about dinnertime, and they were ready to meet with the King of Zebrabwe. Hopefully.

Livingstone frowned at Twilight and batted at her wings. “Your dress will be sufficient,” she said, “but I think we should’ve packed something to accentuate your wings a bit more. They’re impressive, yes. Is there any chance you could eat with them out?”

“What?”

“Keep them open while you’re eating. Like this.” Livingstone lightly pushed Twilight’s wing into an open position. “Looks quite grand, it does. Zebrabwe’s lacking in them. The only species that has wings around here are birds.”

“I doubt it,” Twilight said, flicking her wing away. “It’d start aching after too long.”

“Hmm. Unfortunate. Well, maybe when you sit down, you can stretch, and just happen to flare your wings while doing so, yes.”

“I think we should be caring a bit more about what I say than how I display my wings!”

“It’s part of your image,” said Livingstone, gesturing grandly. “You need to look to powerful. Majestic. Splendid. Desireable.”

Twilight made a face. “Desireable?”

“Well, not in that way! You need to look… like someone would want to be an ally with you.”

“I know appearances count for something,” said Spike, “but this much? If Inkosi’s that easily swayed, I don’t think we’d want to be friends with her.”

“Maybe,” replied Livingstone, “but you still need to project some image.”

“The image I’ve got is fine! It’s-”

The door to the apartments opened and Uvivi came in, grinning. “Got the two-way translation down,” she said. “Bit trickier, but now I won’t need to also cast the spell on anyone else you want to talk to. Gimme a sec.” Her horn glowed more brightly than it had before. The light split into five balls, each of which zipped over to one of the ponies or dragon in Twilight’s group and showered them with sparkles.

“Feel good?” asked Uvivi. “You look good. Remind me to show you how to do that. It’s long-lasting but ultimately temporary, and I don’t want your translation faltering at the wrong time.”

“After dinner,” said Twilight. “Or tomorrow. And I can’t thank you enough for doing this. It simplifies things so much for us, I ca-”

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” Uvivi shrugged. “You’re with Livingstone, and I-”

“UVIVI!”

Another abada, this one even smaller than Uvivi (if only by a little), stormed into the room. She stomped angrily as best she could, but her size meant Twilight had dropped books that made more threatening sounds on impact. The abada didn’t so much as glance at anyone else in the room, instead looking like she was trying to fry Uvivi alive with heat vision. Stormwalker and Cumulus both looked ready to pounce, but weren't going to go that far just yet.

Uvivi jumped, then sighed. “Mhate, I-”

“Do not give me that,” snapped Mhate. “You didn’t say anything. The day before our meeting with Inkosi, a mere half-hour, and you just- just-” She spluttered for several moments, trying to find a word to properly express her frustration. Eventually, she gave up. “-just run off to these…” She gestured at the ponies in the room.

“Ponies,” prompted Uvivi.

“Foreigners!”

“We’re foreigners.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. We’ve been working at this for over ten years, then an envoy from an entirely new species shows up and you immediately drop everything to help them.”

“I owed a favor or two to one of them. Besides, we’ve got this in the bag. Okubi’ll be fine, even if she’s only got you.”

“That doesn’t change you abandoning your job!” yelled Mhate. “If you had just said something before you chose to join up with these latecomers-”

“Mhate, stop talking about them like that. They wouldn’t like that.”

Mhate let out a quick, barking laugh. “Oh, really. Why? They don’t speak Abadic, why is there any reason I should speak anything but my mind while I’m around these intruders?”

Twilight and Uvivi exchanged a long look. Finally, Twilight coughed. “Because she just ran the translation spell on us?”

Mhate went so rigid she might as well have been petrified. The silence was so complete a pin dropping would’ve been deafening. Mhate looked between everybody, her face cycling between anger and terror so swiftly it was hard to tell them apart. When she finally made it back to Uvivi, she said, “Just be ready, okay?” She then bolted from the room so quickly a cloud of dust and a swinging door were the only evidence she hadn’t teleported out.

“Heh. Sorry,” said Uvivi. “She’s the other consul I’m with. She doesn’t like change much. She’s also…” She rubbed the back of her neck. “…let’s just say anal and leave it at that.”

“That’s one way to put it,” said Twilight. “Is she always going to be like that?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. She might just be stressed. She’s, um, she’s got a point.” Uvivi looked over her shoulder out the door. “Look, I should probably get going, okay?” And she was gone.

“…Okay then,” said Twilight. “Livingstone, is there anything else we need to cover?” Please say no, please say no, please say no…

“Nope. We just need to get you into your dress, yes.”

Joy. It was better than endless hours of protocol, but still.

It didn’t matter how much she adjusted it, Twilight’s collar itched.

Her dress wasn’t too bad. It provided a lot of freedom of motion while still looking nice and not being too overblown. But that collar. Sweet Celestia, did that collar itch. She rubbed her neck, moved the collar up and down and side to side, but it kept itching for no reason she could see. Livingstone had a simpler dress than Twilight, and Spike, as per usual, had nothing.

The dining room they were in- “Dining room” seemed too mundane to describe it. It was too grandiose for that. “Eating hall” more like. It was big, with the already-large table only taking up a relatively small portion of the room. Torches lined the walls (with the electric lights around the place, Twilight guessed they were purely for ambience) and the floor and ceiling were intricately decorated. One wall was an array of windows looking out over Kulikulu. The view was spectacular; Twilight could easily see the whole city from here. The sun was slowly setting, casting orange light all over the room. Servants were waiting in the wings, ready to exchange empty plates for full ones once dinner began. The table was covered with so many different types of food that Twilight had never seen before that she could barely take it all in. The settings were all clearly designed for a lack of magic; the silverware and cups had oversized handles you could stick your hooves in to manipulate.

Twilight, Spike, Livingstone, and the bodyguards were standing at the end of a line of eight or nine zebras and abadas; nobles and executives, she was guessing. They all had different styles of clothes, ranging from things that were merely monochrome sheets shaped for an equine body to things that resembled the offspring of a loom and fireworks. Livingstone had said the waiting was a zebran tradition; they couldn’t take their seats until Inkosi appeared. And they hadn’t been waiting that long, but that stupid collar wouldn’t stop itching.

Twilight fidgeted with her collar yet again and grunted. It was such a pain. The abada in front of her, a big mare (relatively speaking, she was still shorter than most ponies) in what Twilight assumed was a Wilayabadan business suit, glanced back at her and smirked. An “I can relate” smirk, not a “look at the stupid princess” one. “Formal clothes, huh?” she muttered.

“Yeah,” mumbled Twilight. “Why can’t they make clothes that look nice and are comfortable?”

“That would make sense.” The abada inclined her head slightly. “Mtendaji. And you’re Princess Twilight Sparkle, correct? Talk about you has spread through the palace quickly.” She extended a hoof.

“Yes, I am,” said Twilight, shaking the hoof. I wonder how many others know about me so far. “What’re you here for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Mtendaji waved a hoof in some vague direction. “Oh, mining stuff. It’s probably boring to you, but it’s very important to me and the zebras of Zebrabwe. I’m here with Mhate and Uvivi — I’ve heard you’ve met them, and I’m really sorry about Mhate — and also Okubi. That one there.” She pointed at a zebra up the line who was a bit taller than usual, which put her almost in line with Luna, but bony and scrawny and possessed of one of those perpetually frowning faces. “Basically, she’s the zebra executive for our company, I’m the abada exec.”

“I see.” Twilight wasn’t sure where to go from there, so she let it drop.

Mtendaji began clicking her hooves against the floor. “You know, I really hope King Inkosi shows up soon. I’m hungry, we’ve been waiting forever, a-”

Suddenly, almost as if on cue, the main entrance doors swung open. Two zebra guards with horns played a brief fanfare as two short lines of guards filed into the room. They stepped aside, and King Inkosi entered the room.

Twilight wasn’t sure what she was expecting for Inkosi’s appearance. Whenever she came up with an idea (a huge, musclebound warrior, covered in tattoos), her brain would tell her that that was stereotypical, and she’d switch to another one (a tiny, frail elder, barely able to speak loud enough for anyone to hear her), only for her brain to tell her that one was stereotypical and begin perpetuating the cycle again. But she had some archetypes that popped up more often than not.

Among all her guesses, however, what she wasn’t expecting was a middle-aged, average-sized zebra in the Zebrabwean equivalent of a three-piece suit.

The zebra who followed the guards in was remarkably unassuming in appearance, but she walked with the calm, nonchalant air of one who had so much authority over everyone else around that she could get away with anything. And considering the company in the room, that was saying something. Her build was supremely average in almost every way. Her clothes were simple: a basic suit done in dark red fabric with golden threads for trimming. The only thing keeping her from being a businesszebra back in Equestria was the crown: it wasn’t gaudy and flashy, but it wasn’t as quiet and subdued as Celestia’s or Luna’s, either. The base was an average metal circlet, but sticking out of it were several feathers of various colors, all very bushy and over a foot long.

King Inkosi stopped before the head of the table, and without a word from her or change in expression, the line began to move. As each person passed by her, they paid homage in some way. Some just bowed their heads a few degrees silently. One dropped to the floor, hugged Inkosi’s hooves, and kissed them for several seconds straight before Inkosi lightly nudged him away. There was no real pattern; it seemed to be based all on the individual’s preference. If any of it displeased Inkosi, she made no sign of it.

And then it was Twilight’s turn. She remembered everything Livingstone had said — how could she not? — but it didn’t quell the stress any. Her knees still felt like jelly and her heart still pounded in her ears. She decided to go simple: she walked in front of Inkosi, lowered her head, and said, “Your Highness.”

When she looked back up, she and Inkosi briefly locked gazes, and the first thing that struck Twilight was how friendly Inkosi’s eyes seemed. They weren’t hard, displeased, dispassionate, or anything like that. They looked more warm and welcoming. Maybe not as much as Celestia’s, but a lot closer than Twilight would’ve expected. Inkosi smiled slightly, just enough for Twilight to see. Twilight managed to imitate the smile and move on.

She didn’t see Spike’s or Livingstone’s interactions with Inkosi, but a great weight had been taken off her shoulders. Her first interaction with Inkosi had gone alright. Her first impression was, thus far, a success. Hopefully, she wouldn’t screw it up any more.

The diners took their places, with Stormwalker and Cumulus standing behind Twilight, Spike, and Livingstone. Inkosi took a seat, smiled, and said in a remarkably casual voice, “Dig in!”

Twilight didn’t need to be told twice. She almost planted her face in her plate, but managed to stop herself and eat in a more dignified manner at the last second. She looked to her left; Spike was eating with dignity. She looked to her right; Livingstone was eating with dignity. Good. Good. She stole a glance behind herself at her bodyguards. Stormwalker looked alert, but at least she wasn’t going to dive tackle someone who reached for their fork wrong. Cumulus was half-relaxed, half-aware.

So should she talk first, or should Inkosi talk first? Her question was answered when Inkosi started talking to Okubi about land. Right. This wasn’t her dinner at all. “And now we wait for them to finish?” she asked Livingstone.

“And now we wait for them to finish,” Livingstone said with a nod. “It’ll be some time, but they have precedence, yes.”

“Do you know how long it’ll take?” said Spike. “The food’s good-” He popped some kind of fruit into his mouth. “-but I can only eat for so long.”

“Try to eat slowly, then,” said Livingstone. “It shouldn’t be too long. This is just a formality compared to the actual talks, after all.”

“I hope so,” said Twilight. She settled back and waited for them to finish, trying to follow the conversation as best she could.

Easier said than done. At first it was semi-interesting, about some zebra-abada coal-mining company called Imayini Yamalahle, but once it turned to talks of land ownership outside Kulikulu, it got a lot harder for Twilight to care. She tried to listen, she really did, but one could only listen to zoning laws that didn’t concern them for so long.

She tried watching the conversationalists, and for a while, that worked. Mhate, for all her abrasiveness before, looked to be doing just fine here; she was doing most of the talking and was going about it in a level-headed manner. Every now and then, Okubi would put in something, but otherwise, she just ate and occasionally stared at Twilight for as much as ten seconds at a time. Mtendaji seemed content to just sit back and go “uh-huh”, “yeah”, or “nope”. Uvivi wanted to come in, bouncing in her seat a little, but rarely got the chance to say anything. But eventually, even that wore down. Besides, she was staring.

As she picked at her food (which was delicious), and watched the servants go back and forth, Twilight thought. How deep should this particular conversation go? Was it best to start talking about friendships, or should she talk about Equestria first? If Livingstone had gotten into the court, Inkosi probably knew a little bit about Equestria, but how much? Actually, it was probably best to start with details about Equestria, since then, Inkosi could make a more informed decision on-

Spike jabbed Twilight in the ribs. “Twilight!” he whispered. “She’s talking to you!”

Twilight twitched and looked up. Apparently having finished her conversation with the abadas, Inkosi had turned her attention to her and was smiling expectantly. Most of the others were looking at her with mild disapproval. “Omigosh, I am so sorry!” gasped Twilight. Umpteen bazillion and thirty-five thoughts of how she’d just ruined everything forever ran through her head. “I wasn’t involved in the conversation, and I wasn’t paying attention, and-”

But Inkosi waved her down. “I understand,” she said. “It can be… tricky to care about a conversation when you have no stake in it, hmm? Indeed. Now… Princess Twilight Sparkle of Equestria, was it?”

“Yes,” said Twilight, inclining her head slightly. “This is Spike, my number one assistant-” She patted Spike on the head; he smiled hesitantly. “-and this is Livingstone, who I think you know.”

“I do indeed,” said Inkosi. “First pony I ever met, and she left a good first impression.” (Livingstone suddenly buried her face in her plate.)

“There are two more in my party, but, um-” Twilight glanced briefly at Livingstone, who shrugged. “-circumstances forced us to split up. They should be here in the next week.”

“Hmm. A shame, that. I hope they turn up safely.” Inkosi ate a rice cake in a single bite. “So what brings you to Zebrabwe?”

“It just seemed to me that we could try to open communications between our two countries. I brought it up with our ruler, Princess Celestia, and she ordered me to-”

Inkosi cut in. “Wait. You’re a princess. How could this… Celestia order you around if she’s also a princess?”

“Celestia’s the co-ruler of Equestria, along with her sister Princess Luna. I help, but I’m a bit lower than they are.”

“All the people who have the slightest say in ruling Equestria all share the same title, regardless of their actual position to one another?”

“Well, Celestia and Luna are equals,” said Twilight, “but they’re above Cadance and me, and…” That made her stop and frown a bit. Was there a princess hierarchy? It seemed like there wasn’t, aside from Celestia and Luna being on top, but people seemed to talk about… Never mind. “Cadance and I are equals,” said Twilight. Even if it wasn’t true, it was close enough.

Inkosi frowned. “That seems unnecessarily simplistic. Why not just call Celestia and Luna kings?”

“It’s their way of keeping themselves from being too distant from their subjects.” This was something Twilight hadn’t thought of, much to her chagrin: that she’d have to explain everything to Inkosi and the zebras. “They take the lower title to remind themselves that they shouldn’t think of most ponies as mere underlings.” It was weird; even griffons and minotaurs knew the basics. “And since they move the sun and moon, th-”

Everyone twitched, and across the table, a zebra in a robe that appeared to be made of gold thread coughed. “Come now, princess,” she said. “While I don’t doubt that your leaders may be quite powerful, do you honestly expect us to believe they move the sun and moon, as opposed to them moving of their own accord?”

“That’s Kutengwa,” Livingstone whispered to Twilight. “She’s a bit of a Zebrabwean isolationist, yes. She won’t want you staying here.”

Twilight clenched her teeth slightly. Now, how to make herself look confident without also looking like someone who was ignorant of their own ignorance? After a brief internal debate, she decided to go with brevity. “Yes.”

Kutengwa laughed softly. “Really. And, considering the day-night cycle has been going for millennia, they’ve also been around all that time?”

Twilight clenched her teeth a little more. “Yes. Both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are thousands of years old.”

Murmurs broke out around the table. Some were worried (could Equestrians really be that powerful?) and some were dismissive (she’s delusional is what she is). Kutengwa cocked her head and smirked. “But I suppose you have no proof of this, hmm? Obviously, it’s just those two, and you can’t move the sun on your own. Conveniently.”

“Actually, no.”

Silence fell like an anvil and everyone stared at Twilight with varying expressions of horror, amusement, and confusion. Kutengwa coughed. “Come again?”

“I’m not as powerful as either of them,” Twilight said, “but I can move the sun, at least a little. Would you like me to show you?” Livingstone looked like she’d been slapped in the face and Spike was tugging on her tail, shaking his head. She ignored them; if she backed out now, nothing good would happen.

After a moment’s pause, Kutengwa nodded slightly. “…Yes,” she said slowly. “I would like that very much.”

“Alrighty then,” said Twilight. She jumped off her seat and strode to the window. Her confident steps concealed the fact that her thoughts were a combination of sweet Celestia, why did I do this?, the mental equivalent of incoherently screaming in terror, and various assorted angry expletives.

Twilight wasn’t completely sure she could move the sun, if she was being honest with herself. The only time she’d done it before, she had the power of three other alicorns helping her. Now, she only had herself. But unicorns had done it before Celestia and Luna were around, right? And they’d done the whole thing, morning to morning, day in and day out. Twilight didn’t want to complete an orbital cycle, just jiggle the sun a little to show what she could do. Surely she could manage that.

Right? Right?

She hadn’t even wanted Kutengwa to respond. She’d hoped her supreme confidence would be enough for her to back down. That was the problem with bluffs: every now and then, you’d run into someone smart enough (or stupid enough) to call them. Twilight just hoped she could manage this tiny, single thing with everyone watching, or else Equestria’s reputation would be ruined before it had a chance to be built, and… bad things would happen. Very bad things.

Twilight reached the walls and stared out the window, at the skyline of Kulikulu. The sun was dropping perfectly in between two towers, framing the palace between them. (Twilight wondered if a decree had ordered no towers to be built there, so the king would always have a view of the sunset at dinner.) She took a deep breath, gathered all the magic she could, braced herself, closed her eyes, prayed, and reached out.

The effort was immense, larger than anything she’d attempted on her own. But soon, she had the sun in her grasp. And she pushed, pushed with every single metaphysical muscle she had. She still didn’t know the proper way to do it. But it couldn’t be that hard.

The sun budged.

It was barely anything, not noticeable from the dining room. But Twilight felt it, and, somehow, redoubled her efforts. She tried a more directed push, aiming to move the sun to one side, behind one of the towers. If that didn’t convince them, nothing would.

The sun jumped a few inches to the right and a sliver of it vanished behind the tower. The change was undeniable. Everyone in the room gasped, some of them cursing. In spite of the sweat running down her face, Twilight started grinning. Who was looking stupid now? It was hard, but she kept at it. She pushed in the other direction, and the sun slid slightly behind the other tower. More gasping and cursing. There is no way I could’ve had a better demonstration, Twilight thought.

Suddenly, some other force grabbed the sun and, easily as if Twilight had been no more than a bug, shoved it back into place. Twilight strained against it, but she might as well have been trying to drill a hole through diamond with a wet feather. She released the sun with a gasp and took deep, heaving breaths. She sidled back to her seat and tried to ignore the way everyone was staring at her as if she’d just pulled her guts out her mouth.

She couldn’t help it; she grinned her most irritating grin at Kutengwa, who looked like she’d just been shot. “And that,” Twilight said in between breaths, “is how you do it.”

“B-b-bubba-bobba-hob-hobba-hobba-wah-wah,” said Kutengwa.

Silence reigned for several moments. Everyone was staring at Twilight like she was about to rip the sun from the sky and drop it on them. Even Uvivi and Mtendaji looked terrified. The only one who seemed halfway normal was Inkosi, but she still had big eyes and a tight jaw. Twilight tried to ignore them and keep eating, but that was kind of hard to do.

Eventually, Inkosi spoke up. She was trying to sound jovial, but her voice was a bit higher than usual. “Well, then, I guess it’s in our best interests to not piss Celestia off, lest she take the sun away.”

“It’s not that simple,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “We- hang on.” She brushed aside her dishes and silverware to clear some space, then put two plates next to each other and picked up a cup in her magic. “Now, this is Zebrabwe, this is Equestria, and this is the sun.” She pointed at, respectively, the two plates and the cup. “Celestia moves the sun around the world every day.” She passed the cup over the plates a few times. “Now, suppose she did keep Zebrabwe shrouded in darkness. But where would that leave the sun?” She stopped levitating the cup over the Zebrabwe plate and held it over the Equestria plate.

A few murmurs broke out around the table and Inkosi’s fear slowly began to disappear. Twilight continued. “If we take the sun away from Zebrabwe, that leaves the sun permanently over Equestria. Even if you freeze to death, we’re frying to death. We can’t use the sun as leverage because we depend on it as much as you.”

A collective sigh came up, most visibly from Inkosi. She took a sip of some drink, trying to look casual. “And… moving the sun is a full-time deal, is it?”

Twilight knew the question Inkosi wasn’t asking: Celestia’s too wrapped up in her duties to come over here and smite us, right? Of course, given the power disparity between Equestria and Zebrabwe, that was a perfectly reasonable question to ask. “More or less,” Twilight said with a shrug. “It’s complicated, but between moving the sun and running the country, a lot of Celestia’s time is taken up. In fact, part of the reason I’m here is that, although I’m less powerful, Equestria can go longer if I’m not ar-”

Abruptly, Spike started hacking, and he belched a scroll onto the table. “Message from Celestia, Twilight. Obviously,” he said. He picked it up and began poking at the seal. “Talk about inconvenient.”

“A… a message? From… from this… Celestia?” Mhate stammered. “You have… nigh-instantaneous… transoceanic communication… via a biological medium?”

“Yes,” Twilight said simply.

Mhate blinked a lot, then leaned over and started muttering to Okubi.

Spike coughed. “S-so, um,” he said, staring at the scroll in his hands, “should we r-read this, or ignore it, or what?”

“Read it!” said Inkosi happily. “Assuming it’s not personal, obviously. I can only imagine what Celestia has to say to her ambassador.”

Spike glanced at Twilight, who motioned for him to read it. He nodded, unrolled the scroll, and cleared his throat. “Dear Twilight,” he read, “I don’t know what you’re up to in Zebrabwe, but please: if you’re going to move the sun to impress the zebras, let me know first. Having it start to move back and forth during lunch with no warning is very disconcerting, and the constancy of the sun’s movement is vital for the survival of Equestria, not to mention other lands. Sincerely, Princess Celestia. P.S.: If you’re not responsible for the sun’s erratic behavior, let me know. We may have a big problem on our hooves.”

Inkosi laughed. “Well! Well well well. You won’t have the slightest difficulty staying in touch with her, that’s for certain. Would you like to write back?” She turned to one of the servants. “Could you get us pen and parchment, please?” The servant bowed and scurried away.

When the servant returned, Spike scribbled out a quick apology from Twilight, while Inkosi added a few words of greeting. He set it aflame, much the bemusement of every non-pony in attendance, and once the smoke had vanished out the window, Inkosi clapped her hooves together. “Now,” she said, “where were we before we got diverted by this sun business? You were saying you came purely to open relations, I think.”

“Right,” Twilight said with a nod. “W-”

“And to maybe see if you can lift the travel restrictions, yes,” Livingstone added quickly.

Beneath the table, Twilight lightly kicked Livingstone. She’d been hoping to lead into that a bit more. They’d’ve gotten to it eventually, sure, but to bring it up so suddenly kind of undermined the whole idea of diplomacy. Hey, we’re only here so you can do something for u-

“The whats?”

A strange silence slowly fell over the table, and Inkosi was staring at Livingstone. Everyone else was either staring at Livingstone or Inkosi, or picking at their food and pretending they weren’t staring at Livingstone or Inkosi.

Livingstone coughed. “The… travel restrictions?” she said tentatively. “The ones you sent out six years ago. I’d just arrived in Bandari Mji, yes, and then came a message from the royal court saying travel beyond Zebrabwe’s borders was forbidden.”

“I never sent out anything like that,” Inkosi said slowly. Her voice had changed, going from the happy-go-lucky tone she once had to something much more serious. “I have no reason to make a law like that. Did it have the royal seal?”

“Yes. I sent word to you to try and get an audience, but I was always turned away.”

“…As far as I know, the court never received any such letters from Bandari Mji.”

Well, thought Twilight, this just got a lot more complicated.

9 - Elevation

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“Excuse me?” asked Idube. “Applejack?”

Applejack looked up from her breakfast. “Yeah?”

“I have been thinking,” said Idube. “I was originally planning on taking a safe route to Kulikulu, but after what I saw yesterday, you are obviously no stranger to danger.”

“Okay…” Applejack wasn’t entirely sure she liked the direction this was taking.

“So I was wondering if you would be willing to take a slightly more dangerous path to Kulikulu in exchange for a decrease in travel time,” said Idube. “We will take more risks, but we will reach Kulikulu a day or so ahead of schedule.”

“Hnng. I don’t know,” said Applejack. She stared down at her rice waffles with a frown. “Compared to yesterday, what would it be like?”

“Safer,” Idube said immediately. “Much, much safer. The nyokakubwa’s stretch of river is always the most dangerous part of the journey. Well, it was.” She looked off into the distance and grinned a little. “The dangerous parts of the next portion will mostly be difficult terrain, nothing we cannot see coming. We will be prepared.”

Applejack toyed with her plate for a few seconds. As she thought about it a bit more, she decided that, yeah, she could probably handle terrain. She’d prefer not to, but if it got her back to Twilight faster, she could do it. “Sure. Why not?”

Idube grinned and clapped her hooves together. “Excellent. Most excellent. The team will be delighted to hear that. Excuse me.” She headed off to another table, where most of the rest of the zebras were eating.

Applejack looked up at the zebra across from her. “Bhiza?”

“Yeff?” Bhiza asked through a full mouth.

“Y’all wouldn’t happen to know the kind of path she’s talkin’ about, would you?”

Bhiza swallowed and nodded. “Yes. Path is tricky, but barely dangerous. It is shorter, but most travelers want to avoid danger if they can.” She smirked. “You are not most travelers.”

“Uh… thanks.”

They left shortly after sunrise. The boat was even more cramped than usual, thanks to the addition of several carts for their cargo when they traveled overland. Luckily, they didn’t have too long to travel; the boat breezed through the jungle (which, Applejack noticed, was thinning rapidly) and came to a sort of improvised landing within an hour and a half.

As the zebras unloaded the cargo, Applejack looked east. Not too far away, a mountain range loomed above them, tall and dark and foreboding. In fact, it was so tall that most of the sunlight they were getting was coming from a low pass between two mountains; if the pass hadn’t been there, the sun would’ve been blocked.

Applejack squinted at the pass. It didn’t take much to guess that that would be where they were going; to her (admittedly inexperienced) eyes, it was the only logical route. She couldn’t make out much details, not at this distance. She looked to the left and right, trying to see if there were any other similar passes, but her view was blocked by mountains.

Bhiza noticed her. “That way,” she said, pointing at the cleft, “is way most fast to Kulikulu, but can be hard at times. Not for you, though.” She grinned and clapped Applejack on the back. “Zebras who do not want danger go that way.” She pointed south. “There is more easy way behind mountains. More long, but more easy. But we want fast. Msafiri haogopi miiba!” She laughed.

“Eh… what was that last one?” asked Applejack, cocking her head.

Bhiza paused, tapping her hoof on the ground. She turned and yelled, “Zecora! Je, unaweza kuja hapa?”

Zecora trotted over, and the two of them exchanged some quick words in Zebran. “Travelers do not fear the thorns,” Zecora explained to Applejack. “Troubles must be often borne.” She looked up at the pass. “It’s a proverb in Zebran. Fear not problems in your plan; success always involves risks in situations such as this.”

“Hmm. ‘Travelers don’t fear thorns.’ Catchy.”

They had three carts, each one loaded up with the diplomatic gifts and their own supplies. One zebra took the boat back to the inn, while the rest headed on. There was a path leading from the landing; not paved, but well-worn. After only a few minutes, however, it split in two, with one heading south and the other heading straight for the pass. The southern path was considerably more beaten down and used, while the one going to the mountains almost looked like it was in danger of being overgrown. Just as Applejack had suspected, they took the path to the mountains.

The path began to slope upward, and the jungle grew less and less threatening. It wasn’t long before it felt like any old forest back in Equestria (except for the Everfree, obviously), just a bit hotter and bigger. Tension left the group, tension Applejack hadn’t even been aware of before. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and just not caring about anything much. Every now and then, Zecora would disappear into the jungle and return a few minutes later with a plant of some kind in her mouth. Bhiza, who’d taken enthusiastically to Applejack’s lasso lessons, kept pausing to try and loop tree branches with the lasso Applejack had made for her. She only made it about a third of the time, but that never slowed her down. Applejack even caught herself listening to the birdsong. They were quite different from the songs in Equestria, but that meant she could enjoy something she’d never heard before. It was all quite tranquil.

Eventually, they came to what Applejack could only describe as a “wall”. A sheer cliff face right in the middle of the path, it loomed up and up and up, over a hundred feet high, and it made Applejack’s hooves quake just looking at it. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how they would get up. Then she saw it: a thin path, snaking back and forth up the wall, all the way to the top. Even from the bottom, she could see that the path was only narrow enough for two zebras side by side, and then only if they wanted to get really cozy.

And she had to climb that. She gulped.

At Idube’s direction, one of the zebras pulled on a set of horseshoes, lined with spikes on the bottom. After a few moments of psyching herself up, the zebra ran to the cliff and started climbing. Not just climbing, she practically ran up the nearly-vertical slope; she moved like a cat up a tree, the spikes digging into the rocks for grip. She ignored the paths almost completely, going straight up whenever she could. At that rate, she’d be at the top in a matter of minutes.

“What’s she doin’?” Applejack asked Bhiza. “And why ain’t we followin’ her?”

“Path too narrow for carts,” said Bhiza. “But there is crane at top. See?” She pointed at a tiny little thing near the top that Applejack had assumed was a rocky outcropping. On closer inspection, Applejack realized it was the arm of a crane sticking out over the edge.

“She is looking if crane is good,” continued Bhiza. “If not, we cannot take carts up.”

The crane might be broken? Applejack’s heart sank. “So we may-”

A voice hollered down from the cliff. “Sisi ni nzuri!”

Bhiza grinned. “We are good. We can go.” Already, zebras were lining up, getting ready to go up the path.

But Applejack still felt weak at the knees. She looked allllllll the way up and swallowed. “Maybe… maybe I oughta go last. It’s a good idea to put the pony most likely to slip last.”

“You do not like heights?” Bhiza asked, smirking.

“Darn tootin’ I don’t. They’re so… high.”

Bhiza giggled. “Do not worry. It is not so bad. And, here.” She expanded the loop on her lasso. “This goes around your middle. If you fall, I catch you.” She grinned.

Applejack looked at the lasso. Looked at Bhiza. Looked at the lasso. She sighed. “Fine. Give it here.” It wouldn’t be the best way to catch her if she fell, but she’d rather have a not-so-good way than no way at all. And she had to get up there somehow. She stepped into the loop.

Bhiza pulled the loop shut around Applejack’s trunk, making it snug but not tight. “You feel good?” she asked as she tied the lasso’s free end around a hoof. “You can…” She paused, then made exaggerated breathing sounds.

It took Applejack a second to realize Bhiza didn’t know the word “breathe”. “Yeah,” she said, “I can breathe just fine. Let’s…” She swallowed. “Let’s just get it over with.”

Bhiza muttered “breathe” a few times under her breath, then started walking up the path. It was a bit fast for Applejack, but she could handle it. She followed closely behind Bhiza; the rope had plenty of freedom, she was just being paranoid. Idube herself was staying at the bottom; well, someone had to hook the carts up to the crane, Applejack supposed.

Actually on the path, it was a bit wider than it had looked from the bottom, but it was still quite narrow. Bhiza went up it like it was an ordinary sidewalk, but Applejack mashed herself against the wall and slowly ground her way back and forth across the cliff. She was not taking chances, no sir. She kept expecting a zebra to fall past them with a scream, or for an avalanche to occur, or for the path to collapse beneath them, or for them to come to a gap in the path that she hadn’t seen from that ground that she’d have to jump, or for any one of a number of other catastrophes to happen, but nothing did. Of course, that only made her more and more apprehensive as they kept going up; the last minute didn’t have anything go wrong, so surely this one must, right? At one point, she jumped at something dropping past them, but that was just the hook of the crane above getting lowered.

She wasn’t sure how long they climbed. It couldn’t’ve been too long, but it felt like ages, crawling along the path. How high up were they? The top couldn’t be that far away. Right? She should’ve counted the number of switchbacks while at the bottom. Applejack looked up, but couldn’t see the top of the cliff. Inching towards the edge of the path, she cautiously looked down-

-and went right back to hugging the wall even more forcefully than before. Nope. Nope nope nope that was high nope nope nopenopenope that was really high nope nope looking over was stupid nope why did she do that nope nope nope nope the ground should not look that small nope nope nope nopenopenopenopenope NOPE.

Bhiza broke out into a fit of giggles. “Do not worry,” she said as she tried to hold it in, “top is near.”

Applejack glared at Bhiza and flicked her ears and tail, but said nothing.

As it turned out, Bhiza was right. Less than a minute of wall hugging later, and they finally crested the cliff, coming to a large landing. Most of the other zebras were lying on the ground, panting from the exertion. The two that weren’t were the big, bulky, muscular type who probably did something like this every day. Applejack collapsed to the ground, not from weariness, but from finally having more than three square feet of ground to lie down in. She seemed to be missing that a lot on this trip.

Bhiza lay down beside her, breathing deeply. “That was not bad,” she chuckled. She began untying the lasso from around her hoof.

“Yes, it was.” Applejack loosened the lasso from her trunk and started wiggling out of it.

“Not,” replied Bhiza.

“Yes,” Applejack shot back.

“Not!”

“Yes!”

Bhiza laughed again and pulled the lasso away from Applejack. “Not. But we are at top, so it is not important.”

“Guess not.”

Applejack rolled over and finally got a good look at the top of the cliff. It was fairly bare, mostly dirt and rocks. Mountains towered over it on either side, but the pass was still there, cutting an easy, mostly level path between the two slopes. What grabbed Applejack’s attention, however, was the crane. The arm, solidly built, hung out over the cliff, easily far away enough to allow most cargo to be lifted or lowered. The lift cable itself ran away from the crane over to a large wheelhouse, where it wrapped around a spool. The spool was connected by gears to a wheel that Applejack could already tell was for raising and lowering the load. The outside of the wheel was moveable and had steps angled into it for zebras to put their hooves into. The center of the wheel was stationary, and it stuck up several feet above the outside. Spokes, eight of them, jutted out from the central point over the wheel; each one had a sort of harness designed for a zebra’s body connected to it.

It was easy: zebras braced themselves in the harnesses and pushed against the wheel to pull up cargo. Simple, but the simplest things were sometimes the best.

A zebra was standing on the end of the arm of the crane, looking down the cable. Even though Applejack could see the harness that kept the zebra from falling, she cringed and looked away. The zebra turned to the ones lying around and yelled, “Yeye ni tayari!”

The zebras began stirring. Stirring slowly, but stirring nonetheless. Bhiza nudged Applejack. “Hook is connected. You want to help lift?”

“Absolutely,” Applejack said, jumping to her hooves.

“You know what to do?”

“I think so.” With the zebras still getting ready, Applejack trotted over to the wheel and stuck herself in the nearest harness. Designed for zebras, it was at first a bit high and large for her, but it only took a few seconds of nudging around to find out how to adjust it, and soon it was sitting comfortably around her chest. It even had padding that she hadn’t noticed before. Neat.

She pushed her chest against the harness, dug her hooves into the nooks, and began walking in place. After a few seconds of gathering up slack, she felt the first resistance as the cart was lifted off the ground. She steadied her hooves and pushed with all her might. The wheel turned slowly, barely winching in three feet. A few beads of sweat ran down Applejack’s face. This was too hard to do alone; why weren’t the zebras helping?

Applejack managed to look over her shoulder. All the zebras, Bhiza included, were still off the wheel and staring at her, jaws in varying levels of openness. The only exception was Zecora, who was fitting herself into her own harness. Applejack grunted and pushed harder against the wheel, pulling another foot on the cable. Still the zebras stared at her and did nothing.

She tried her best, but she could barely move the cart another inch. Locking her legs in place, she glared at the zebras. “Am I gonna have to do this all by my lonesome, or are any of y’all gonna help an itty-bitty bit?”

A few more moments of gaping. Then the zebras finally got their act together; as long as there were empty spaces, they took up locations on the wheel, fitting themselves into the harnesses. But they didn’t start walking. They dug their hooves into the nooks and pushed on the wheel slightly, but they didn’t move. Instead, they all turned to one of the zebras who hadn’t taken a place. She pulled out a largish drum, one that looked well-used, and laid it on the ground in front of her. Settling her hooves on the drumhead, she bellowed, “Moja!” She paused for a second. “Mbili!” Another pause. “Tatu!” And again. “Nne!” After one last pause, she began beating the drum.

It wasn’t a big drum, but it was one of those where you felt the sound it made more than heard it; Applejack’s teeth vibrated uncomfortably, and she cringed a little. The zebra beat the drum on the same slow beat she’d yelled out the words, and the zebras on the wheel started walking, lowering their hooves on the same beat. Applejack followed suit. With everyone walking in the same way, the wheel rotated easily.

As they walked, the drummer slowly played faster and faster, with the zebras matching pace. The drummer stopped speeding up when they were at a usual walking pace. She yelled out words in Zebran, almost a line of a song; it followed a simple tune, but felt like it was shaped by the beat rather than the beat getting shaped by the words. “Sisi ni kusukuma!”

And all the zebras answered. “Sisi ni kusukuma!”

“Kama bora tunaweza!”

“Kama bora tunaweza!”

“Tumpeleke gari hii!”

“Tumpeleke gari hii!”

“Na sisi kusafiri!”

“Na sisi kusafiri!”

This went on for a while, with the drummer never repeating herself. She occasionally stumbled over a word, drawing some subdued snickers from the walkers on the wheel, but she never stopped. Applejack tried to go with the rest of the zebras, do the call-and-response, but with no knowledge of what she was actually saying, it was harder than she expected, even with the words shouted at her before she had to repeat them. Still, she did as best she could, and no one seemed to bat an eye at her.

After a few minutes, the zebra at the crane hollered something out. The drummer began slowing, and the wheelers followed suit. Applejack stole a look at the crane; hanging from a harness and inching its way up above the edge of the cliff was their first cart.

The drummer yelled out again. “Na… malizeni!” The wheeler stopped and dug their hooves in, leaving the cart dangling from the crane. The hoist cable was winched over to the cliff and the cart was released from its harness. The drummer pulled a lever next to the winch, and the hook slowly unspooled freely, without any effort on the wheelers’ part. Which was good, because giving any more effort would’ve been hard for them.

The zebras were panting, some of the more tired ones getting swapped out for ones who hadn’t gotten a spot on the wheel, but Applejack felt fine. A little tired, maybe, but fine. A bit thrilled, actually. She hadn’t expected just plain walking, against that much resistance, to feel that good. The feeling of actually doing something, maybe. She’d been on boats for too long.

One zebra came up to her. “Do you want a rest?” she asked. “I can push.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” said Applejack. She wiped some sweat off her forehead. “Find someone else who needs help.”

The zebra gave her a look, but backed away and continued around the wheel.

The zebra on the crane hollered again, and the drummer went back to the drum. “Moja!… Mbili!… Tatu!… Nne!” And they began the process over again.

Applejack’s heart was beating much harder than it had in a long time by the time the next cart came to the top, but some of the zebras, particularly the ones who hadn’t been replaced, looked like they were dying. They were hanging in their harnesses, their forelegs draped over the poles, their breaths coming in wheezing gasps. It was hard, but it wasn’t that hard. Or was her earth pony magic just keeping her going where the zebras’ lack of magic wasn’t? Applejack had never been one to make a big deal out of being stronger than unicorns or pegasi, not next to active reality manipulation or flight, but now, next to a complete lack of magic, she was surprised at just how much it was pushing her.

Bhiza had been off the wheel the second time, and was staring at her. “Do you… want… to rest?” she asked slowly.

“Nope,” said Applejack in between breaths. “It’s just one more go, right?” She grinned.

Bhiza blinked a few times. Her jaw hadn’t dropped, but Applejack suspected it was a close thing. She slowly walked around the wheel and found another zebra to replace, but was still staring at Applejack. Applejack snorted, rolled her eyes, and waited for the drumbeat to start up again.

The last cart came up with Idube perched on top of it without a care in the world or a safety harness. Once it was settled on the ground, she jumped off and said something to the zebras that made them all sigh in relief and drop the ground.

“We takin’ a break?” Applejack asked Bhiza.

“One short, yes.”

“Good.” And Applejack flopped down next to Bhiza. She probably couldn’t’ve done another lifting; her heart was throbbing in her ears and her legs felt like they were about to fall off. She couldn’t imagine what the zebras felt like. (Except for Idube, who hadn’t really done anything. Git.)

Applejack’s mind drifted back to when she’d first gotten on the wheel. When the zebras were just staring at her. “Bhiza? At the beginnin’, why’d it take so long for all the others to get on the wheel?”

“You pulled up cart by yourself.”

“Only a few feet,” scowled Applejack. “What, did they exp-”

But Bhiza shook her head. “Zebra cannot do feet few. With two? Probably. Not with one. Cart is heavy. You?” She poked Applejack in the chest. “You did it alone. You are strong. Strong very. Much more strong than zebras.”

“Ah.” Most likely earth pony magic was keeping her going, then. “Well, it’s… it’s a little magic I got in me.”

You’d’ve thought someone had stuck Bhiza with a pin, she jumped up so fast. “You are magic?” she whispered loudly, shoving her head up against Applejack’s. “What can you do? Can y-”

“Whoa, steady on,” said Applejack, shuffling away from Bhiza. “It ain’t much, it just keeps me goin’ for longer and makes me stronger.”

Bhiza looked at Applejack, then at the other zebras lying around. “Much more strong.”

“Yeah. All earth ponies have that.”

“Earth ponies?”

Hmm. Had Livingstone not told zebras about the different kinds of ponies? Or had Bhiza just not heard of them? Oh, well. Applejack batted at her ear as she tried to figure out how to explain it. “Well, um, in Equestria, there’re three main sorts of ponies.”

Bhiza cocked her head. “Sorts many of ponies?” She sounded very interested.

“Yeah,” Applejack said, nodding. “Now, as an earth pony, I don’t have wings or a horn, but you saw Twilight back in Bandari Mji, right?”

“That…” Bhiza frowned for a moment. Applejack could almost see the conflict going on in her head; Twilight was supposedly a pony, but she had wings and a horn, while Applejack and Livingstone were definitely ponies, and yet they had neither, so what was the right term for Twilight? Eventually, Bhiza gave up. “That pony purple?”

“Yeah. Her. You saw her wings and horn, right?”

“Yes, but she is princess. I heard princess was type special of pony. Livingstone said.”

“That’s half true. Twilight’s what we call an alicorn.”

“Al-i-corn,” repeated Bhiza. “Alicorn.”

“Right. Now, see, alicorns are comb- conglo- Hang on.” What would be the best word for Bhiza? Maybe… “They’re all three races at the same time.”

“Combination of they?”

Of course she knows the first word I throw away. “Yeah. Exactly. Now, earth ponies like me, we got nothin’ special on the outside. It’s all in here.” Applejack laid a hoof on her chest.

Bhiza half-closed her eyes and made a bored face. Really?

“It’s silly, I know, but it’s true,” Applejack said with a sigh. “Cliché” would’ve been a better term, but she doubted Bhiza knew the word “cliché”. “Now, the horn. Unicorns look almost exactly like Twilight does, minus the wings, so they only got the horn, and they use their horn to cast magic.”

“I understand,” Bhiza said, nodding. “Like abadas.”

“Abadas?” That was a new one.

“People small. This small.” Bhiza held up her hoof at a height that was barely taller than Apple Bloom. “They live near Zebrabwe in country another. Can use some magic. You might see they in Kulikulu.”

“Alright.” This is goin’ well, Applejack thought. “And finally, the wings come from the pegasi. Th-”

Bhiza gasped and her eyes almost bugged out. “There is race whole of fliers?” she whispered. “All have wings?”

“Yeah. I know a few of ‘em.”

“You know pe-” Bhiza stopped. She tapped her hoof on the ground a few times, then looked down and asked, “What is pegasi one?”

“Pegasus.”

Bhiza raised her head up again and frowned. “Pegasus one, pegasi many? Not pegasuses many?” She snorted. “Stupid. But you know pegasus?”

“Yeah. Several, actually. There’s one, name of Rainbow Dash, I think you might like. She’s-”

Idube yelled and Bhiza sighed. “We need to move again.” She got to her hooves, as did the other zebras. “Can you tell I more about pony types as we go?”

“Sure,” said Applejack. “Now, like I said, earth ponies like me…”

10 - Surprise, Surprise

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When you go to a diplomatic summit to try to get laws overturned, one of the things you don’t want to hear from the king is that they never made any laws like that, and that they never got any of the letters you sent to them concerning said laws. That makes things a bit tricky.

“None? None at all?” said Livingstone, her mouth agape. “I, I sent dozens of letters, yes. Are you…?” Her voice trailed off. Of course, she was already doing better than Twilight figured she would have; Twilight was so used to things being in order in Equestria that she’d probably flip out. As it was, she had to keep her wings from rustling a lot and giving away her anxiety.

“I never received any of them,” repeated Inkosi. “I cannot imagine why anyone would want to keep people from traveling. We’re not at war with anyone. Not even close.” She poked at her food for a moment, then said, “I shall send an impundulu to Bandari Mji notifying the town of the miscommunication. It won’t be much, but it will clear up some issues.”

Livingstone blinked, smiled, and looked ready to deflate like a balloon. Twilight didn’t need to guess why. “Thank you.”

“And this must be investigated,” said Inkosi in a deadly serious voice. “I cannot have someone sending out false edicts in my name. No.”

Kutengwa stared at Twilight for a moment and coughed. “Your Highness, I can understand your worry, but is that really necessary? I realize that, yes, someone trying to prevent travel is undesirable, but if it was restricted to this single port town, I fail to see the greater problem. The issue has been cleared up, so why the worry?”

After a brief pause, Inkosi cleared her throat.

Something about the way she did it just made Twilight take notice, sit up, and pay attention. It had nothing to do with the sound itself or Inkosi’s actions. It was what Twilight had taken to calling the “atmosphere of authority”. It was nothing tangible or visible, nothing specific that you could point to and say that this was what made her noticeable, what made you listen to her. It simply was. It was why your eyes were drawn to Celestia or Luna whenever they entered the room, why you automatically slipped into more formal speech around them, why you always felt more self-conscious about them, why you never interrupted them unless it was of absolute importance.

It was what made a princess a princess, or a king a king, rather than just a pony or zebra with a nice hat. And Inkosi was now surrounded by it.

“Kutengwa,” Inkosi said in a low voice. Not one that was threatening or menacing, but one that would brook little to no discussion. “I can understand your lack of concern, but please: think about what this could mean. We have someone capable of sending out laws in my name at will. That is hardly a small problem.”

“Bandari Mji is quite isolated. If it came in the mail,” Kutengwa said slowly, “it might just be in the postal system.”

“The postal system spans the entire nation,” said Inkosi, her words hitting like a hammer. “There is no ‘just’. Furthermore, even if this one town is the only one that has been compromised, that is one town too many. I will not have any corruption within Zebrabwe.”

Kutengwa looked down at her plate with a look Twilight recognized well, one she’d worn herself a few times in her talks with Celestia. She’d bring up a certain point, only for Celestia to counter it so easily that Twilight would wonder why the heck she hadn’t thought of the counter before. When she’d look back on it later, she’d see that she’d been viewing things through her own, rather narrow lens. Kutengwa was almost definitely feeling the same way right now. So what was her lens like?

“Last, and probably, I’ll admit, least,” said Inkosi, “Bandari Mji and similar port towns provide an excellent starting point for oceanic navigation. These ponies came here on a whim. How many adventurous, exploratory zebras have been unintentionally denied the same chance? For all we know, contact between our two nations could have been initiated years ago if not for this false law.”

“Your Highness,” Kutengwa said again, “is an alliance-” (Twilight really wanted to say “friendship”, but knew it’d be rude to interrupt.) “-with Equestria really necessary? Zebrabwe is self-sufficient. With a travel time of weeks, any attempt at trade would probably be detrimental to us and them. Particularly since their only real reason for being here, by their own admission, is ‘because’.” She glared briefly at Twilight, maybe for half a second. Unlike Mhate, who at least had the decency to act embarrassed when she realized Twilight’s group knew what she was saying, Kutengwa evidently didn’t care in the slightest about what Twilight heard. Or saw. Considering she’d just seen Twilight move the sun, she was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Or both; there wasn’t much of a difference at times. Twilight flicked her ears, flapped her wings once, and glared back.

Inkosi tapped her chin for a few moments. “You know what? You’re right. It’s not necessary. Not in the slightest.”

Livingstone jumped slightly and Spike dug his claws into the table. Twilight, however, didn’t react. She couldn’t say why, but Inkosi’s words didn’t sound quite right. She was leading into something. But what?

Then Inkosi continued. “In fact, none of this is necessary! Why do we have servants when we can wash our own dishes, get our own food? Why have this much food at all, as a matter of fact? We can live on less. And that cloak!” She pointed at Kutengwa’s golden cloak. “It goes brilliantly with your eyes, but is it necessary? Of course not. So why don’t you tip it over the wall, since it’s not necessary?”

Kutengwa twitched, pulled her cloak tight around her, and looked down at her plate again. She opened her mouth a few times, obviously hoping some retort would jump out, but none did.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, there is a difference between living and surviving,” said Inkosi. “As for me myself, I much prefer living. But living is made up of what is not necessary. What we have here is something that is very much not necessary. So it only makes sense to live it up.” She raised her cup to Twilight in a sort of toast, but drank before Twilight could return it.

“Besides, necessary and useful are not mutually inclusive. For example, we have a postal system that can deliver messages around the country in just a few days. But suppose Equestrians can give us the secret of…” Inkosi’s voice stopped and she turned to Spike. “I beg your pardon. Spike, was it?” Her authoritative tone vanished for that specific sentence.

Spike jumped a little at being addressed directly. He hesitantly nodded. “Y-yeah.”

Inkosi nodded back, then turned back to Kutengwa, her authority returned. “Suppose they can give us the secret of Spike’s fire so that we can work its equivalent ourselves. We can cut a time of a few days down to a few seconds. Even if they can’t, consider the other things they can teach us. At the very least, shipbuilding. They came here, and not the other way around.”

“Do you really want to base an alliance,” grumbled Kutengwa, “on ships?”

Twilight could take no more, and decided it was time for her to speak up. “Things can have intrinsic value on their own,” she said. “Just because you don’t get anything out of it doesn’t mean it’s not good. Can you give me any reason why it’s important that we not form bonds of friendship, as opposed to why it’s not important that we do so?”

Kutengwa didn’t even bother trying to come up with a response, simply glaring at Twilight and going right back to her food. Twilight glanced at Inkosi, who threw her a brief smirk that did not befit royalty.

It took a few moments of rather awkward silence for everything to start up again. Twilight briefly looked up to see Kutengwa glaring at her again. Twilight didn’t return the glare, but just went back to her food. She ignored Kutengwa so heavily that it took Spike jabbing her in the ribs for her to realize he was trying to talk to her.

“Hey, Twilight?” said Spike. “Mtendaji wants to talk to you.”

Mtendaji had moved to Spike’s other side and was grinning broadly. “Hey,” she said. “Just wanted to chat a little. Kashata?” She levitated a tray of some bright, snacky-looking bars.

“Spike, why don’t you and I switch?” Twilight suggested. They did, and Twilight accepted one of the kashata. It was crunchy, nutty, and, much to her surprise, so sweet that she immediately went for her water. She snatched another bar and passed the tray on to Spike and Livingstone.

Chewing on her own bar, Mtendaji asked, “Well? You like it?”

“It’s a bit sweet,” said Twilight, “but it’s still pretty good.”

Mtendaji laughed. “Yeah, these things are real popular in Zebrabwe. Not just Kulikulu, mind you,” she added, wagging a hoof in Twilight’s face, “all of Zebrabwe. And a lot of Wilayabada, for that matter.” She took another bite of kashata. “Originated in Zebrabwe, but in my experience, food has a way of crossing borders.”

“Are your two countries close?”

“Not close close, but a decent amount. There was once a war between us, but that was centuries ago. And, uh, don’t ask me about it, ‘cause I’m terrible at history that far back.” Mtendaji grinned sheepishly, like a foal with their hoof caught in the cookie jar.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I think you’re handling yourself well so far.” She looked over her shoulder, out at the sunset. “Pretty impressive that you can move the sun, even that little. And you managed to shut down Kutengwa without being too snooty about it.”

“I didn’t think being snooty would be good,” said Twilight. “Just because I don’t like her doesn’t mean I can’t treat her halfway-decently. But what’s her problem with me?”

“It’s not you specifically, she’s just a bit of an isolationist.” Mtendaji waved a hoof. “Doesn’t exactly like the idea of Zebrabwe opening itself up this much. Almost blocked Imayini from getting the land it needed just because it’s based in Wilayabada.” (Twilight remembered just in time that Imayini Yamahle was Mtendaji’s company.) “She eventually caved when Inkosi pushed her a little and she saw just how much coal we’d bring in.”

“Lots and lots and lots?”

“And lots,” laughed Mtendaji. “Hey, all this electricity’s gotta be powered by something, right? Zebrabwe produces a lot of its own coal, but, well, Imayini’s run and staffed mainly by abadas. We have magic, zebras don’t.” She shrugged. “We can do things they can’t, get the coal they can’t. It’s a shame our species can’t be equal, but they’re not, and there’s no sense beating around the bush to pretend otherwise.”

“So…” Twilight glanced at Kutengwa. “If she’s that set in her ways, do you suppose she might be responsible for the whole… fake law thing?”

“Can’t say, I don’t know what she’s really capable of. I wouldn’t put it past her to try, but then, given what you’ve seen of Mhate, you might not put it past her to try, right?” Mtendaji laughed.

Twilight, however, couldn’t muster up more than an amused snort. “Probably.” And now, unfortunately, they were getting into even more politics than usual. This person could’ve done that action for those reasons, or it could’ve been these people for this reason, or something else entirely Twilight couldn’t guess at. And she didn’t know a thing about what everybody wanted for this or that.

Mtendaji leaned around at Twilight and took a look at Spike. “Mind if I talk with your ko-”

“Not a kongamato,” interjected Spike. “I’m a dragon. And you can ask me that directly, you know.”

“Dragon,” Mtendaji said. “Draaaa-goooon. Gotcha. And, sorry, it’s just kinda strange to see someone like you in the middle of a group like this. No offense,” she added quickly, “but… it’s just… you know, right?” She grinned awkwardly.

“Apology accepted,” said Spike. He looked up at Twilight.

“Go ahead.” Twilight and Spike swapped seats again. The first question Mtendaji asked was about Spike’s fire, and Twilight, knowing that subject backwards and forwards and leftwards and rightwards and upwards and downwards and probably fourth-dimensional-wards that she didn’t know the names of, tuned it out almost on instinct.

She began picking at her dinner again, but slowly became aware of a gaze boring into her. It wasn’t a particularly intense one, nothing against Celestia’s or Luna’s, but it was still very much there. She looked up to see who was staring at her, and it took less than a second to find out who.

Okubi. No contest. She sat on her cushion, staring intently at Twilight, barely moving a muscle. She didn’t eat or drink or anything. Twilight was sure she wasn’t even blinking. She just sat and stared with a weird intensity that made Twilight’s face tingle.

Twilight tried staring back, but looked away after about ten seconds. She couldn’t take it. Okubi looked… creepy was really the only word for it. Thin and bony and scrawny and just plain unhealthy. She was clean enough — she had to be for this dinner — but Okubi was all sorts of things you couldn’t just cover up with makeup and half an hour in the shower. Not the kind of person you want staring at you like they were going to enjoy your stomach rotisserie-style.

And she didn’t look like she was going to stop any time soon.

Twilight leaned over and nudged Livingstone. “Uh, hey? Livingstone?” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“What do you know about… about Okubi there?” She pointed.

Livingstone cringed a little. “Barely anything, sorry. Just that she’s been a part of Imayini for a considerable amount of time, yes, since the first time I arrived in Zebrabwe. Not very…” She coughed. “Not very photogenic, is she?”

“Or tactful. How’d she get to be so high up in Imaya- In Imy- In…”

“Imayini.”

“In that company when she acts like that?” Twilight gestured at her. Okubi seemed to be listening, but since she wasn’t making any attempt to hide it (her ears were quite clearly angled toward the two of them) or having any reactions, Twilight decided she didn’t need to hide it. If Okubi didn’t want to be offended, she shouldn’t go around looking for ways to be offended.

“I cannot imagine. Perhaps…” Livingstone tapped one of her forks against her plate a few times. “Perhaps she didn’t always act like that. Perhaps she was more, ah, restrained when she was lower in rank, and she’s just abandoning it now that she doesn’t have anyone to suck up to.”

“Maybe she killed off her competitors,” mumbled Twilight.

Livingstone paled slightly and grinned nervously. “Well, I… wouldn’t go th-”

“Joke,” said Twilight. She rubbed her hoof in her face. It was still tingling. “It was a joke.”

“Hem. Right.”

“If nothing else, your honesty and openness are refreshing.”

After having Okubi silently stare at her for so long, it took Twilight longer than it should have to realize Okubi was talking to her. She looked at Okubi, but Okubi had barely moved at all. Her voice was surprisingly smooth for her appearance, but still rather scratchy, particularly on her F’s and her S’s.

Twilight and Okubi engaged in another staring contest. Twilight blinked first. “So,” she said, “do you have something you want to say to me?” It was a tricky question to ask, the tone balanced on the edge of a knife between casual and aggressive. It was one of those tones you learned quickly once you became a princess.

“Not especially,” said Okubi. Her jaw moved oddly, like it was detached from her head. It was the only part of her body that was moving. Okubi, it seemed, did not like moving.

“Uh-huuuuuuh,” said Twilight. Great. One of those people who only answers your questions in the simplest form possible. “And you’re staring at me because…?”

“Because because.”

“Oh.”

The silence continued again. Livingstone glanced up at Okubi and started squirming on her cushion. Twilight couldn’t blame her. Her interactions with Okubi were making her hooves tingle. She tried to change the subject. “What about Mtendaji?”

Livingstone blinked and ripped her gaze from Okubi. “Who?”

“Mtendaji.” Twilight pointed to the other side of Spike; he and Mtendaji were still in conversation, something about his internal organs and the effect of fire on them. “She’s the abada executive of Imayini. Don’t you…?”

“I have never heard of her, no,” said Livingstone. “She must have gotten into her position in the past decade, when I was outside Zebrabwe or stuck in Bandari Mji.”

“Oh. And Kutengwa?”

Livingstone laughed humorlessly. “Her I know well. She has been, ah, vehemently opposed to my presence in Zebrabwe since I arrived, yes. It’s not tribalism — well, I suppose that here, it would be… species… ism? In any case, she doesn’t dislike me because I’m a pony. She dislikes me because I’m a foreigner.”

“So why’s she here? The whole reason the dinner is happening is because of a foreign company.”

“My guess? She was in town at the time and obligated to come. She can’t exactly turn down an invitation from the king, after all, but with the argument against Equestria and Zebrabwe becoming friends, she’s obviously here under protest.”

“She doesn’t want us to become friends even though she just saw me move the sun?”

“Selective memory, my princess,” said Livingstone. She tapped the side of her muzzle and grinned. “She doesn’t want to admit just how good she can have it if she changes her beliefs, so she ignores the evidence. Didn’t you hear her arguments? She’s grasping at straws to try to keep you out, yes.”

“Hnng.” Great. A zealot. Just what Twilight needed, alongside a high-tempered consul and a just plain weird executive. That was just super. “And the others?”

“I was just about to research the court when I arrived here six years ago,” said Livingstone, “so, I’m sorry, but I don’t know any of them, no. At least, not the ones here. I only know Kutengwa because she’s been forcing herself into my life. Sorry.”

“Alright. Thanks, anyway.” And Twilight went back to her food, keeping an ear out on Spike’s and Mtendaji’s conversation. They were really involved in it; Mtendaji wanted to learn a lot about how dragons worked.

On a whim, Twilight looked up. Okubi was chewing on something, but was still staring her. It didn’t look like her stare had changed at all, either. Just what was with her? It was making Twilight’s chest ache.

…Wait…

Twilight put a hoof to her chest and took a few deep breaths. Her chest still ached a little. That wasn’t Okubi, that was an actual… something. Twilight wasn’t sure. Well, it wasn’t that bad. She could ignore it, at least for now.

But over the next few minutes, it gradually grew to the point where Twilight couldn’t just look the other way. Maybe the food didn’t agree with her (although it tasted excellent for the most part). She laid her silverware down. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I’m not feeling great. I should probably get some rest.” Please don’t be a terrible breach of protocol.

Inkosi nodded. “I understand, Princess. I would prefer your company, but your health is more important. And once I find a more proper time to speak with you, I’ll send word.” She waved Twilight away.

“Can I go, too?” piped up Spike. His voice sounded a little strained. “I’m not feeling so hot either.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Inkosi.

“Thanks.” Spike jumped onto Twilight’s back, which drew a few angry titters from the guests until they realized Twilight didn’t mind.

“And thank you as well,” said Twilight. “I’m sorry to cut this short.” She got to her hooves and Stormwalker immediately fell into line behind her. She took a quick look over the guests; none of them seemed all that concerned over or interested in her early departure, except for Okubi, who stared at her expressionlessly for several seconds before going back to her food, and Uvivi and Mtendaji, who were giving her a look of pity. Twilight nodded at the two of them and left the room.

“So how’re you feeling?” Twilight asked Spike.

“It’s not bad,” Spike replied. “My chest just hurts a little.”

“Hmm.” Twilight unconsciously rubbed her own hurting chest.

As Twilight made her way back to the apartments, the ache in her body slowly grew worse. She placed a hoof on her chest and took deep breaths, but it didn’t lessen in the slightest.

“Your Highness?” Stormwalker asked. “Are you sure you’re feeling fine?”

Twilight coughed. “No, bu-”

Suddenly, she and Spike were draped across Stormwalker’s back at a full gallop. Before she knew what was going on, they were back in the apartments and Stormwalker was lowering them onto a bed. “Wait here,” said Stormwalker. “I’m going back to the dinner, see if there’s anyone who can get a doctor. If it’s going this fast, you might’ve been poisoned.”

Twilight’s brain skipped a few beats. “Poison?” she coughed, lifting her head up. But Stormwalker was already gone.

Twilight laid her head back on the bed. Poison? Really? But for once, it seemed like Stormwalker might actually be right. This just didn’t feel natural, not at all. But why? Why would someone want to poison her? She’d been here less than a day and had barely talked to anyone!

“Poison?” Spike whispered from his bed. He coughed. “Is… is she serious?”

“She might be.” Twilight reached out and rubbed Spike on the head. “But she’s getting a doctor. We’ll be fine.”

Would they, though? The rational part of Twilight’s brain said someone able to poison them there, in the middle of a diplomatic dinner, might have gotten to any number of doctors. For all they knew, the doctor trying to “cure” her could just be finishing the job. Even Stormwalker’s paranoia could only protect against certain threats.

She didn’t know how long she lay there in her bed. It couldn’t’ve been longer than a few minutes, but it felt like hours. The room started to spin and pins and needles began racing up and down her limbs. Breathing became an effort. Twilight was terrified; she couldn’t do anything against it. She could only lie in bed and wait for Stormwalker to return.

And hope she got back in time.

The door slammed open. Behind it was a veritable party, headed by Stormwalker. Close behind her were Uvivi, Cumulus (with an unhealthy-looking Livingstone hanging across his back), and an abada Twilight didn’t recognize.

“Princess!” yelled Stormwalker. She dashed over to Twilight and leaned over her. “Princess, what do you feel like?”

“Not good,” mumbled Twilight. Before she could say anything more, her stomach heaved and she puked all over the floor and Stormwalker’s hooves. Twilight wiped her mouth down and continued, as best she could, “Head’s spinning, legs hurt, chest hurts, nauseous, can’t feel face.”

“Okay, okay,” muttered Uvivi, her tail flicking, “um, uh, just, just stay in bed, okay? I can, I can get help.”

“I swear,” Stormwalker hissed, “if she dies under you-”

“She WON’T!” yelled Uvivi.

Something poked through the haze surrounding Twilight's mind. Did Stormwalker just…? No. Except she had. That was just too far. Twilight tried to push herself up, to yell at Stormwalker, but her legs throbbed and she collapsed. With a moan, she rolled onto her back. There wasn’t much else she could do. As she lay in bed, trying to breathe, the voices slowly faded away.

“Get the grinder, Udokotela! GET THE GRINDER!”

“Ma’am, are you-”

“Yes! I’m sure! I’ll do it myself! Just get it, and get it NOW!”

11 - Bridge Over Troubled Water

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Bhiza, Applejack quickly learned, was incredibly curious about magic and rattled off questions at a rate that would make Twilight green with envy. Which made it a shame that Applejack was incredibly incurious about magic and could barely answer any of her questions.

“But,” Bhiza asked for the third time, “how do pegasuses-”

“Pegasi,” Applejack said for the eleventh time.

“-stand on clouds? They are… clouds! Mist! Drops small very of water! Water! You do not stand on water! You do not stand on air!” Bhiza twitched her hooves back and forth in consternation and stared earnestly at Applejack.

“Magic,” said Applejack, shrugging. “I dunno.”

Bhiza flicked her ears and repeatedly cocked her head back and forth, glaring at Applejack as if that would cause the information to spontaneously appear in her head. After several lengthy moments of that, Bhiza groaned, rolled her eyes, and kicked at a rock. “Magic is confusing,” she mumbled, before going into an incoherent string of Zebran Applejack wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“And that is why I don’t keep much track of it,” Applejack said with a laugh.

It was just after noon, and the trip through the mountains was going quite well, quite well indeed. Once on top of the wall, the path was reasonably even and, surprisingly enough, didn’t skirt too closely to cliffs all that often. The narrow path between the two peaks had quickly broadened to something that Applejack didn’t feel cramped in, and took them straight through the mountains, over bridges and through a tunnel or two. Given the isolation of the road, it was very well-maintained. At the moment, the party was taking their lunch break on a cliff overlooking a strange valley or pit that seemed to have a circular path cut into its walls. Applejack and Bhiza were slightly off on their own, while Zecora was with the rest of the zebras. Not that Applejack minded; Bhiza was good company, and even if her Equestrian wasn’t the greatest, she was still perfectly understandable.

Bhiza took a sip from a canteen. “But,” she said, “ponies all have magic?”

“Yeah.”

“And you do not think of that?”

“Not really. From what I’ve seen, magic’s often more trouble’n it’s worth. Nothin’ like good, old-fashioned fetlock grease.”

Bhiza blinked and looked at one of her front ankles. “You…” she whispered, “have… grease… come fro-”

“Heavens, no, nothin’ like that,” said Applejack, smacking herself in the face. “It’s a metaphor.”

“Metaphor?”

Great. Applejack wasn’t sure she could explain a metaphor in terms of Equestrian to Twilight, let alone a zebra who didn’t know the word. She decided to just cut to the chase. “‘Fetlock grease’ just means physical work.”

“Ooooooh.” Bhiza kept staring at her ankle, whispering, “Fetlock grease… fetlock grease…”

Applejack chuckled and looked out over the bowl valley. It still didn’t look right to her. It was too… something. She couldn’t say what, but it didn’t feel natural. “Bhiza? Y’all know anythin’ ‘bout this here valley?” She swept a hoof over said valley.

“It is not valley,” said Bhiza. “It is coal…” She clicked her teeth together a few times. “I do not remember word. Main? Meene?”

Applejack wasn’t sure wasn’t sure what, exactly, Bhiza was trying to say, but the word “coal” gave her an idea. “Mine?”

“Yes!” Bhiza said with a powerful nod. “It is coal mine. It was digged-”

“Dug.”

“-out…” Bhiza scratched her head. “Seven or eight years ago, I think. It was not mine good very, I do not think. Look.” She pointed at the ground of the valley. Of the mine. “See? All brown, no black. Dirt is brown, coal is black. All dirt, no coal.”

Applejack surveyed the mine again. Bhiza was right; there wasn’t a single shred of black to be seen in the mine. Even if the mine had run dry of coal, there should at least have been some black down there, from scraps of coal that hadn’t been picked up. But, nope, every single square inch of ground that she could see was brown. Or green; a few plants were growing down there.

“Miners left…” Bhiza batted an ear and stared at the ground. “Two years ago. They were angry very at lack of coal and thought they should not lose any more money.”

“Wow. Did they get nothin’? No coal at all?”

“I do not think so.”

Applejack whistled. “That’s a lotta lost money. Wonder what it did to the company.”

“They are still here,” Bhiza said, “but they are not doing good, I think. I heard th-”

Idube hollered, and the zebras immediately started packing up. Bhiza took one last drink from her canteen and tossed it into her saddlebags. “Come. I will explain on way.”

As it turned out, they didn’t talk much about coal mines while they walked (thank heavens). Applejack heard a few words about how the company wasn’t doing so hot but was currently getting back on its hooves, and then she pointed Bhiza at a certain peak that looked really cool. Then Bhiza pointed her at a certain rock formation that looked really amazing. Then she pointed Bhiza at a certain valley that looked really impressive. And back and forth and back and forth. The mountains were simply spectacular.

“Sure is quite a place,” Applejack said as they passed beneath an overhang, dangling with vines. “I wouldn’t mind livin’ here if I could find a place to grow my food.”

Bhiza grinned. “You must see Serembarti.”

“Serem-what-now?”

“Serembarti. Plain endless. Much grass. Lots of food.”

“Sounds like a dream.”

“It is. It-”

Suddenly, the convoy ground to a halt. A few whispers passed back and forth between zebras, then Idube began shrieking in an angry rant. Applejack waited for it to die down, but Idube only grew louder and louder and louder. After what felt like several minutes, she asked Bhiza, “What’s she sayin’?”

Bhiza angled an ear towards Idube. “She is angry very. Bridge is still not built.”

“What?” yelped Applejack. “We came all this way for a bridge to be broken?”

“No, no, there is… there is bridge not-always-”

“Temporary?”

“Yes. There is bridge temporary. But it is not as good as… as bridge always.”

“As a permanent bridge?”

“Yes. Idube does not like bridge temporary.”

Applejack kept listening, and wow, Idube didn’t seem to be slowing down in the slightest. Applejack was sure that if she knew Zebran, she’d hear some incredibly colorful language and wouldn’t hear Idube repeating herself once. “She yellin’ at anyone in particular, or just lazy workers?”

“Workers lazy. We did not do anything wrong.”

Applejack edged around the convoy, trying to get a look at the road ahead. The path dead-ended at a wide ravine, with a rope bridge — a rope bridge, of all things! — spanning the gap. She couldn’t see how deep it was, but she guessed it was deep. Over Idube’s still-ongoing raging, Applejack could hear rushing water. A river in the ravine, most likely. The zebras seemed to be lounging about, patiently waiting for Idube to finish.

“Is Idube always like this?” Applejack asked as she slid back into place.

“Only when she is angry very very,” said Bhiza. “And now…” She chuckled. “You see.”

After what felt like ages, Idube stopped raving, paused, and bellowed out what Applejack imagined was a Zebran expletive. Then she called out again in a voice that sounded almost normal, and the caravan began moving again. Slowly, but it was moving.

Applejack stuck her head out to get a better look at the ravine and the bridge. The bridge was surprisingly wide and seemed strong enough — the zebras were taking the carts across without too much worry, even if they were taking it slow — but, come on, it was a rope bridge, and as Applejack knew, that meant it was designed to snap when she was halfway across. Especially if it’d seemed safe before.

The ravine itself did indeed have a river running through it; the waters below weren’t roiling, but they were still moving at a good clip. Just to one side of the rope bridge, half-finished stanchions were sticking up out of the water: the incomplete permanent bridge. The stanchions looked strong and stable and much more desireable than a rope bridge.

Bhiza must’ve noticed Applejack’s nervousness; she asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Well, kinda,” said Applejack. She looked away and rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s just that, it’s just, I ain’t sure I want to trust my life to somethin’ like a rope bridge.”

Bhiza stared at Applejack. “Rope? Too weak. Those are not ropes grass. They are cables steel. Those-” She pointed at one of the boards between the two cables. “-are not wood. They are- They are…” She started staring into the sky. “…not wood. Material more strong than wood. I do not know word.”

“Composite?” suggested Applejack. “Plastic?”

Bhiza shrugged helplessly in the universal action for I dunno.

“Well, if you say so…” Applejack looked briefly over the edge of the cliff and immediately shied away from it. “I’m still goin’ last.”

“Heights?”

“Heights.”

“You should not be afraid of heights,” Bhiza said with a giggle. “They are tall. What is scary about being tall?”

“Lemme put it this way: it ain’t the heights I’m afraid of, it’s the ground. Comin’ at me real fast after I fall from the heights.”

“You will not fall. Bridge is strong very.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“It is carrying cart easily. Do you not see that?”

“It’s a phobia!” said Applejack. “Phobias ain’t rational!”

Bhiza flicked an ear. “I know rational. What is phobia?”

“It’s just a fancy word for a certain kind of fear.”

“Ah. Phobia. Phooooobiiiiiaaaaa.” Bhiza grinned. “I like that word.”

The zebras kept filing over, and Applejack’s heart rate slowly climbed as she drew closer to the bridge. Finally, she and Bhiza were the only ones who hadn’t crossed it. She took a quick look at the bridge. Like Bhiza had said, the “ropes” were steel cables and the “planks” were some kind of composite or fiberglass. But it was still a rope bridge.

Applejack swallowed and put a hoof on the first plank. The bridge swayed a little, but held. Applejack’s rational mind said that of course it would, it took the carts across no problem, but her irrational mind kept screaming Rope bridge! Rope bridge! And her irrational mind was louder. She took another few steps forward. The swaying got worse, but there was still no sign of collapse.

Almost by instinct, Applejack looked down between the planks. Whoops. The river was some distance below, and while it wasn’t as bad as some rapids, the water was still getting churned up a lot. She gulped. If she fell into that, sh-

“Look at I.”

Applejack looked up. Bhiza was standing a few feet in front of her, staring her in the eyes and slowly backing across the bridge. “Look at I. Look in my eyes.” She took a few steps backwards.

“A-alright.” Applejack took a few steps forwards.

“You see my eyes? What color are my eyes?” Three steps backwards.

“Brown.” Three steps forwards.

“Yes. They are more pretty than yours.” Four steps backwards.

“What? N-no, they ain’t!” Applejack may have thought that fashion was useless, but she liked the soft green of her eyes. It was definitely better than brown. It was a nice, earthy brown, but it was still brown. Four steps forwards.

“Yes, they are,” Bhiza said with a smirk. More steps backwards.

“Ain’t!” More steps forwards.

“Are!”

“Ain’t!”

“A-” Bhiza suddenly jumped forward, snatched Applejack’s hat off her head, and galloped across the bridge.

“Hey!” yelled Applejack. “Give that back!” She shot off after Bhiza, slowly closing the gap.

“Neffah!” Bhiza said around the hat. She grinned a devil-may-care grin at Applejack.

“I swear, when I get you,” bellowed Applejack, “I’ll give your hide such a tannin’ th-”

Bhiza suddenly stopped; caught off-guard, Applejack barreled into her and fell. She jumped up, ready to take her hat back from Bhiza, only to see it sitting in front of her. “Y’mind tellin’ me what that was all ‘bout?” she growled, snatching the hat up from the ground and slamming it on her head. “Y’don’t ju-”

She’d snatched the hat up from the ground.

Applejack kneaded her hooves and looked down. Below her was solid rock and dirt. She looked behind her. There was the bridge, swaying slightly and completely crossed. She looked back at Bhiza and smiled halfheartedly. “Oh.”

“We are across bridge,” Bhiza said, looking quite satisfied with herself. “Come. We are moving.” She started after the already-moving convoy, trotting a bit to catch up.

Applejack sighed, rolled her eyes, and settled into a canter. “Did you have to take my hat?”

“You did not look down. You have your hat back. What is wrong?”

“Well, it’s… Don’t take my hat, alright? Would y’all want me takin’ your nose ring?”

Bhiza tilted her head at Applejack and raised an eyebrow. “How? It is in flesh.” She wiggled the tip of a hoof into the ring and nudged it in all directions. It wouldn’t come out easily.

So if she were to actually take Bhiza’s nose ring… Applejack cringed. Yeesh. “Just don’t take my hat.”

“It is just hat.”

“Yeah. But it’s my hat.”

Bhiza shrugged and kept walking.

The sun was getting lower in the sky and their path was mostly downhill, Applejack noticed. Not a steep downhill, but downhill was downhill. The mountains were better than she’d’ve thought going in, but it’d still be nice to get onto more level ground.

They crested a ridge, and Applejack finally saw what lay beyond the mountains: an endless grassy plain. Endless endless. It just went on and on and on and on and on. Applejack’s jaw dropped.

“That,” Bhiza said, “is Serembarti. Big very, yes?”

“Yeah, it looks a mite big,” Applejack said flatly. It was all she could manage. She was just having trouble comprehending something that huge. “Is it another country or somethin’?”

“No. Just name of place. Like name of town or jungle or river.”

“Oh.” Applejack was still staring at Serembarti. (Or would it be the Serembarti? With Bhiza not using “a”, “an”, and “the”, it was hard to tell.) If she ever got it into her mind to move to Zebrabwe, she knew where to start looking for a place to live. Serembarti looked perfect.

“Easy, too,” added Bhiza. “Only dangerous if you are stupid very. And then, not dangerous very.”

It almost sounded too good to be true. Wide plains with plenty of lush-looking grass that weren’t dangerous? No way. This was Zebrabwe. Something had to be up. “Y’ain’t pullin’ my leg, are you?” Applejack asked.

“…Nnnno,” said Bhiza slowly, “I am not touching you anywhere.”

“You’re not lyin’ to me, are you?”

“Oh! No, no,” laughed Bhiza. “It is all true.”

Well. Applejack could think of worse places to spend a few days traveling through. Serembarti only grew larger and larger as they continued down the ridge. In some part of her mind, Applejack wondered how long it would take to cross; a day? Two? Three? It’d taken them two days to get through the jungle and over most of the mountains, but those had lots of obstacles. Serembarti was flat. If nothing else, they’d probably make faster time on it, but she didn’t know how far they were on their journey overall.

Beyond the ridge, the slope went all the way down to Serembarti. However, they couldn’t just run down; the path mostly vanished, covered beneath a sheet of small, loose rocks. Travel speed immediately slowed to keep the carts safe and make sure everyone was finding stable footing. More than once, Applejack put her hoof on a rock that looked fine but slid out from under her once she put her weight on it. No injuries, though.

It wasn’t long before the sun completely vanished behind the mountains. However, the convoy kept moving a while longer before Idube finally ordered them to stop on a relatively flattish area. “We do not want to go down that in the dark,” Idube said to Applejack, pointing down the ridge. “Very risky.”

“Yes indeed,” said Applejack. The slope was littered with all sorts of loose, pointy rocks, even on the path that wound down it. It’d be trivial to go down during the day, but at night? You could easily wind up with a broken neck.

The ledge they were on was just big enough to fit their whole company. Tents were passed out, one for each zebra (or pony). It was up to everyone to make their own tent, but most zebras didn’t look inclined to set them up just yet; a lot of them were resting, using their still-packed tents as pillows (Applejack had claimed her own spot, but also wasn’t ready to set up her tent yet). A few of them were unpacking food for dinner, and another was getting a fire set up. The whole scene was cozy and actually kind of friendly.

“Of course, this many zebras in one place…” Idube frowned. “We will post some guards. We don’t want the ngoloko to come.”

“Wait, what?” said Applejack with a twitch. She looked around, and all of a sudden, the slope didn’t seem nearly as friendly anymore. “What’ll come?”

“Ngoloko,” intoned Idube. It was obvious she wasn’t being all that serious, but it still made Applejack shiver. “They are vicious carnivores.” She held up a hoof just below shoulder height on Applejack. “Powerful legs, powerful jaws. Very ferocious.” She leaned in close to Applejack and grinned in a slasher-esque way. “And they only eat the brains of their victims.”

In the crowd of zebras, someone hollered out, “Which means you’re safe, Idube!” Several zebras laughed. Without budging an inch or even turning to look, Idube flicked a stone into the air with her rear hoof and bucked it towards the offending zebra. Applejack didn’t see who it hit, but someone yelped and the laughter grew again.

“But do not worry,” Idube continued, drawing away from Applejack. “They may be dangerous, but we are more dangerous. We will set up guards during the night. Ngoloko prefer to ambush their prey, and flee given the slightest amount of resistance. We will face no trouble from them tonight.”

“Great,” said Applejack in her best “that ain’t great at all ‘cause you just said there’s a monster out there that wants to eat my brains” voice.

Idube’s smile vanished. “Seriously, though. Do not worry. You are at a greater risk of dying in a rockslide than getting killed b- than getting injured by a ngoloko.”

“We’re on a mountainside! That ain’t sayin’ much!” protested Applejack. “Rockslides probably happen here all the dang time!”

“Not here,” said Idube. She rolled her eyes. “We. Are. Safe. I know what I am talking about. I have been working this job for over a decade.”

Applejack huffed and walked over to Zecora; her tent was already set up, so she was sitting at the top of the slope, simply admiring the lands below. They were admirable, to say the least, but Applejack wasn’t in a state of mind particularly conducive to admiring things. “Zebrabwe sure is dangerous, ain’t it?” she asked Zecora.

“At times, yes, it can seem that way,” said Zecora. “You’ve seen the worst these past two days.”

“I sure hope so,” Applejack muttered. “I just wanna keep movin’ and not stop for monster attacks or a rope bridge.”

Zecora laughed and clapped Applejack on the back. “The Serembarti is a place where you will never be more safe. It’s not a land for carnivores, so please, don’t worry anymore.”

“I’ll stop worryin’ when I can travel in a straight line for an hour with nothin’ bad happenin’ or holdin’ us up like a beaver dam in a river.” Applejack squinted at Zecora. “Y’know, you found your plants quick enough. Did you ever live out in the jungle?”

“Just on the edges, not in far.” said Zecora. “Grasslands aren’t where the herbs are. The jungle, ah…” She smiled wistfully. “It has much, much more plants than you could ever look for. Dangerous? Yes. But a small price to have a brewer’s paradise.”

“You used to those sorts of things, then? The nyokakubwa and all that?”

“Not in the capacity we saw yesterday. You see, I never went very deep; the edges still had herbs to reap. There were risks, I will admit, but dire troubles?” Zecora shook her head. “Not a whit. It’s why in Everfree I stay, for it recalls my younger days. Although Everfree’s Equestrian, so there’s less risk to life and limb.”

“Wait, you’re livin’ in the depths of the Everfree ‘cause it’s safer than the edges of the jungle?” Applejack looked over her shoulder, back at the way they came, and gulped. She was probably lucky to get out yesterday with all four limbs.

Zecora shrugged. “That idea is close enough. Zebrabwe’s jungles make you tough.”

“Wow.” Pushing that somewhat discomforting thought from her mind, Applejack turned her gaze back to Serembarti. No, wait, the Serembarti; Zecora had used a “the”. “Well, I just hope nothin’ bad goes down tomorrow.”

Back from the center of the camp, a bell rang out. “Chakula cha jioni!” Idube hollered. “Dinner!”

Zecora stood up. “Perhaps some food will clear your mind and help you leave your fears behind.”

Applejack stared out over the dark plains. She was hopeful, but couldn’t entirely hide her apprehension. “Maybe.”

Whether or not it did, though, it’d been a long day, and she was hungry. She followed Zecora to the campfire.

12 - Poison in Your Veins

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“I think she’s waking up.”

The words drilled into Twilight’s brain like a spiky nail. She groaned and, with great effort, drew up her hooves and rubbed her eyes. She felt like absolute crap; she was undergoing acupuncture with railroad spikes, her stomach had been squished into a malfunctioning blender, and someone had decided it was a good idea to replace her brain with a running jackhammer.

Still, there was a plus: all the pain meant she wasn’t dead.

“Yeah, she’s getting up. Uh, hey. Princess?”

Twilight groaned again. “Ugh. Yeah?” Her throat didn’t feel all that bad, surprisingly enough. A bit scratchy, but a lot less than… everything else everywhere else.

“Open your mouth. You’re gonna want to drink this.”

Twilight couldn’t recognize the voice, but that might’ve just been because she couldn’t locate the off switch for the jackhammer. She opened her mouth. Someone placed a bowl to her lips, and she drank deeply. She almost gagged; the liquid tasted terrible and had a strange texture. But once it hit her stomach, the pain slowly started to dwindle.

“That’s it. Keep drinking.” Uvivi. Probably. “You’ll feel better.”

It sure didn’t taste like that, but whatever. Twilight drank again, got another reduction in pain, and was able to blink her eyes open.

It took a few seconds for the blurs to resolve. Stormwalker and Uvivi were standing over her, looking worried, Uvivi standing on her hind legs to compensate for her small size. Twilight herself was in… she wasn’t sure where, but from the sterility of the walls, probably some kind of hospital or medical center. If that was true, the bed beneath her was a lot comfier than it had any right to be. She ached too much to do anything resembling looking around. “Spike?” she murmured. “Livingstone?”

“They’re both… not okay okay,” said Uvivi, “but they’re not in any danger.” She looked over her shoulder at a few beds further down. Something was off about her, but Twilight couldn’t say what. “They’ll probably be waking up in a few minutes or so.” She swung back to Twilight. “How are you feeling?”

“Could be worse,” Twilight coughed. She took another deep drink from the bowl, somehow managing to not spit any of it out. More pain receded. “Am I allowed to get up?”

“If you think you can,” said Uvivi. She took a few steps away from the bed. “Just so you know, you’re still in the palace, and it’s not quite noon of the day after the dinner.”

Not quite noon. Could’ve been worse. Twilight grunted and rolled out of the bed. Somehow, she managed to land neatly on all four hooves without collapsing. Stormwalker was at her side immediately, offering assistance without forcing it. Twilight waved her off and took a few steps. Yeah. She could walk. She wouldn’t be running any marathons, but she could walk. She took a better look around the room. Definitely some kind of hospital room, very similar to ones in Equestria; big enough for four patients and some guests, although there were only three at the moment. Spike and Livingstone were in the next beds, both sleeping; their chests were slowly rising and falling in a slow, easy rhythm. Cumulus was standing between them, and a zebra doctor had her ear to Livingstone’s chest.

Uvivi cocked her head. “Doing alright?”

“Yeah,” said Twilight. “Stormwalker, did you threaten anyone?”

Stormwalker bristled. “No.”

“That’s not what what I heard before I passed out.”

Stormwalker opened her mouth, but didn’t say anything.

Twilight groaned. “Seriously. This needs to stop. If you’re going to overreact to everything that comes my way, you’re going to render all of this pointless.”

“Your Highness,” Stormwalker said, “I-”

“Keep quiet unless I tell you to speak.”

Stormwalker’s jaw snapped shut and she nodded.

Twilight took another drink from the bowl. “I heard what you were saying to Uvivi before I passed out, and… just… just really? She’s been nothing but friendly to us, the first thing she did was make things easier for us, she was offering to save my life, and you threaten her? That’s…” She smacked a hoof to her face. “No. Just… no. You said you’d dial it back. Dial it back. I know that she might have been trying to kill me-” (Uvivi looked shocked, but didn’t say anything.) “-but if you keep reacting to what might happen, we should just leave right now, because it might have been Inkosi who poisoned me.”

After a moment of hesitation, Stormwalker nodded.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” said Twilight. Her ears were folded down, and if looks could kill, Stormwalker wouldn’t be more than a smoking crater. “You will only react to definite threats, not possible ones. You keep this up, you’re staying in the embassy as long as we’re here. Understand?”

Stormwalker’s pupils shrank and she nodded stiffly.

Twilight sighed. “Look. I don’t want to keep you in there. If ever I needed a bodyguard, it’s now. But you’re driving everyone away, and that’s the exact opposite of the whole reason we’re here. I’ve still got Cumulus, and I’ve got alicornhood, so in the end, I need a good reputation more than I need you.”

Stormwalker nodded again. Her ears were back, but she wasn’t angry. Any other circumstances, and Twilight would’ve been sympathetic.

“At ease,” Twilight muttered. Stormwalker relaxed so much she lost several inches in height.

Uvivi coughed, making both of them jump. “Um, sh-should I have, um, left?” she asked, pointing at the door.

“Maybe. Too late now, though,” said Twilight. She took another drink from the bowl. Whatever was in there, it was doing wonders. “Anyway, I feel fine, bu- What happened to your horn?” She’d finally realized what was off about Uvivi: the top two-thirds of her nose horn were gone. Not cleanly, either; it looked like it’d been ground away by something.

“What, this?” Uvivi asked, tapping the nub of her horn. She tried to grin, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Pfft, it’s nothing. It’s not even the most important one, and besides, horns grow back.” Her smile vanished as she rubbed her stump and muttered, “Eventually.”

“But… but why? Why’d you… grind down your…” Twilight couldn’t even think about that without shuddering. Apparently, unlike unicorns, abadas didn’t have any feeling in their horns, because otherwise… ow.

“Well, long story short, thanks to the magic running through them, our horns can act as an antidote against poisons. Yours should, too, actually, if your magic works at all similarly to ours. And it’s, we just met, but I, I’d hate for you to die, so…” Uvivi shrugged.

“Antidote… against…” Uh-oh. Twilight looked down at the bowl she was drinking from. Looked back up at Uvivi. Looked back down at the bowl. Looked back up at Uvivi. It finally, finally clicked and Twilight’s stomach turned over. “Am I… Am I drinking your own powdered horn?!”

Uvivi cocked her head and frowned. “You say that like it’s weird.”

Once Twilight was back from washing her mouth out so she could stop screaming about what she just drank, she said, “Okay. So. Spike, Livingstone, and I have been poisoned. Now what?” Stormwalker opened her mouth, and Twilight added, “And, no, holding all the nobles and executives for questioning isn’t a viable option. We went over this literally a minute ago.”

Stormwalker reddened, slowly closed her mouth, then tentatively said, “In a perfect world, we could barricade the party in the embassy and not come out until it was time for our proper audience with Inkosi. Whenever that is.”

“In a perfect world, I wouldn’t be poisoned.”

“Right.” Stormwalker flapped her wings a few times. “And since this isn’t a perfect world, it would drive us all crazy. So… hypothetically…” She swallowed, and when she spoke again, it was like she was forcing the words out. “You could, if you wanted, go about business as usual, just with a bit more vigilance for any other attempts on your life.”

“You’re telling me it’s okay for me to be out and about?” Twilight eyed Stormwalker up and down. “Who are you and what have you done with Stormwalker?”

Stormwalker grunted. “I’m not saying it’s okay. Just that you could do that if you wanted to, so long as we paid more attention to your surroundings. Politicians acting as if nothing out of the ordinary happened after an assassination attempt is surprisingly common, assuming they weren’t injured. Not forty years ago, when Princess Celestia was visiting Sacramaneto, an assassin-”

“I know,” said Twilight. “A would-be assassin named Lyneightte dropped a bomb at her hooves, which failed to go off because Lyneightte had never armed it.”

“And do you know what Celestia’s response was?” asked Stormwalker. “Complain that the Royal Guard was crowding her, then go right back to what she was doing. If you look into the daily diary for that day, it’s mundane actions through and through, the assassination attempt is added in as almost a ‘by the way’ sort of thing, and there’s no change in Celestia’s behavior before or after it.”

“Yeah. I read that for an assignment in school once.” Twilight squinted at Stormwalker. “But why do you know that?”

Stormwalker bristled and pulled herself up a little higher. “I like to know the history of my profession. The point is, it is possible for you to do as you wish. I’d recommend against it, obviously, but the choice is yours.”

The doctor chose that moment to leave Livingstone and walk over to Twilight. She looked an awful lot like an Equestrian doctor, with a white medical coat and a head-mounted penlight, but she also had a pair of white saddlebags from which herbs were poking out. “Hello, Princess. Dr. Nganga.” She said it in a weirdly disconnected way, as if she didn’t really care about what she was saying. “Your friends are going to be fine. Abada horn is potent stuff, disgusting as it is.” She shuddered a little. “You can wake them up if you want, but it might be better to just let them sleep.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” said Twilight with a sigh of relief. “You wouldn’t happen to know what was in that, do you? Because Spike — the little lizard there-” She gestured. “-he can swim in lava and come out just fine.”

“For most poisons, physical durability doesn’t mean much,” said Nganga. “Tembo can take several dozen arquebus shots to the head, thanks to their tough hides, but a proper amount of poison will still do them in. And this particular poison, devil’s helmet, interferes with nerves, so…” She shrugged. “Being able to survive a mountain getting dropped on you won’t do much if your nerves don’t work.”

“Oh.” That was a creepy thought. Twilight couldn’t help but shiver.

“Like I said, you all should be fine. Just to be safe, though, open your mouth.” Nganga flicked on her penlight.

“Wait, what?”

Nganga tutted. “Open your mouth. I want to be sure your throat looks okay.”

Twilight slowly opened her mouth a little. Nganga snorted and pushed Twilight’s chin down and nose up, forcibly opening her mouth wider.

Stormwalker flapped her wings and and twitched her legs. She cleared her throat and asked in a voice that was almost polite, “Do you know who you’re handling?”

“A politician I’ve never met from a land I’ll never see,” said Nganga gruffly. She squinted down Twilight’s throat. “You hold your own king’s life in your hooves and handle their internal organs, it changes how you think of leaders. I treat Inkosi the same way. Treated her mother the same way, too. But I’m still here, so I must be doing something right.” She released Twilight’s head, clicking her penlight off, and crouched down to put an ear against her neck. “Say ‘ahh’.”

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhh…” Twilight felt embarrassed; she’d never been marehandled quite like this in years. It brought to mind visits to the doctor’s office when she was just a filly, only that doctor at least had something resembling tact and she’d been a bit hyper at that age.

“Good, good,” muttered Nganga. She stood up and placed a hoof on Twilight’s chest. “Deep breath in, deep breath out.” Twilight breathed in and out; Nganga nodded to herself and placed her hooves on Twilight’s sides. “Deep-” She stopped and leaned to one side; her hooves were on Twilight’s wings.

“Sorry,” said Twilight, rubbing her leg, “I can ju-”

“Keep them down,” said Nganga. She slid her hooves under Twilight’s wings and placed them right on her ribcage. “Deep breath in, deep breath out.” Once they went through with that, Nganga had Twilight repeat the process with her wings horizontal, then with her wings vertical.

“Everything seems to be in order,” Nganga said, withdrawing her hooves. “Good throat, stable breathing. You should be fine. But if you feel a bit lightheaded-” She twisted over to reach into her saddlebags and withdrew with a couple of herbs in her mouth. She dropped them on the table next to Twilight. “-stew one of these into tea, or chew it until it tastes bitter, then swallow. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be off.” She swept out of the room before Twilight could say anything else.

“Well,” muttered Twilight, “that was-”

Nganga poked her head back into the room. “Oh, and you’ve got two groups of visitors waiting out there, if you want to see them. There’s a nurse keeping them at bay, but he’s getting impatient.” She left the room again.

“Groups?” Twilight muttered to herself. “That’s a lot of people.” Hopefully not too much. “Let’s see them through.”

The first group wasn’t actually a group; just a single zebra stallion clad in armor. Bare steel armor, with none of the gilding of the Equestrian Royal Guard. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing, “I am Captain Mlinzi of the Zebrabwe Royal Guard. King Inkosi was shocked to hear of your poisoning, and would be visiting you herself if she didn’t have other matters to attend to. She apologizes for your trouble and is furious that such a thing could happen in her court; an investigation into the matter is already underway.”

“Good,” said Twilight. Inkosi was definitely on top things, wasn’t she? That was either a good sign or a self-serving one. Inkosi might just be doing it to look competent and caring, but Twilight decided to believe she really wanted to keep Twilight alive, which in turn meant she really wanted an alliance with Equestria. Promising.

“If you wish,” continued Mlinzi, “she is also offering guards from her own retinue to supplant yours, s-”

“Supplement,” said Twilight, almost purely on reflex. “She doesn’t really want me to replace my own guards with hers, does she?”

Mlinzi turned a bit red, but his body language didn’t change. “Right. My apologies. She just wants to provide you with additional protection, if you so desire.”

Twilight was about to accept, but glanced briefly at Stormwalker. She knew better on these sorts of things. This was the kind of situation you brought a bodyguard along for in the first place. Stormwalker didn’t say anything, just nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah,” Twilight said, “that’d be great.”

“They will be sent to your embassy as soon as possible,” said Mlinzi, clapping a foreleg to his chest. “And, finally, Inkosi has set up a proper audience for you the evening of the day after tomorrow. The rest of your party should be in by then, correct?”

“Right,” Twilight said with a nod. “One way or another.”

“Then if there are no more questions-”

“There aren’t. Thank you.”

“-I take my leave. Thank you.” Mlinzi bowed again and walked out of the room.

“Do you really think they’re safe?” Twilight asked Stormwalker. “If someone was able to poison me during dinner, they might have people in-”

“Poison is easy to use, as far as assassination tools go,” said Stormwalker. “You don’t need an absurdly complicated conspiracy to use it. In fact, doing it during a political dinner implies they don’t have enough people to do it at a better time. We can most likely trust Inkosi’s guards. And Cumulus and I can keep an eye on them.”

“That we can do,” confirmed Cumulus.

“Suppose it was Inkosi herself who had me poisoned,” said Twilight. “I doubt it, but humor me. What if her guards are under orders from her to kill me?”

But Stormwalker laughed. “Oh, nooooo. She’s the king, she doesn’t need to resort to something as crude as poison. If that were the case, we probably would’ve never gotten into the dinner in the first place.”

“Okay, good.” Twilight smiled a little. “See? Do more stuff like this. Don’t scare away people.”

Stormwalker frowned slightly and she flicked her ears, but she said nothing.

The second group actually was a group, although not a very large one: Mtendaji and Mhate. Mtendaji looked distraught, while Mhate looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here. Out of embarrassment, though, not out of hatred.

“Twilight!” gasped Mtendaji. “I was so worried, I thought you weren’t go-” She coughed and looked away with a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I know we just met, but I can, um, overreact to things.”

“Heh. Believe me, I can relate,” Twilight said with a grin.

“So, you, you’re doing okay?”

“I think so. My head’s still spinning, but it’s getting slower.” Twilight arched her back and stretched her wings, drawing a stare from Mtendaji.

Mtendaji slowly reached out with a hoof, as if she wanted to touch Twilight’s wings, but quickly yanked it back. “I guess you’re still an ordinary pony beneath it all, huh?”

Twilight shrugged. “In some ways, yeah. In some ways, no. It’s complicated.”

As all this was going on, Twilight kept an ear and half an eye on Mhate. As Mtendaji was talking, Mhate walked up to Uvivi. “Do you think you’ll be long?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” Uvivi replied with a shrug. “I don’t think so, but it’s hard to say.”

“Alright. Well, take your time. We’re not in any hurry anymore.” Mhate reached up and rubbed Uvivi’s horn stub. “Can’t believe you went that far. That’s a lot to do f-”

“Twilight?”

“Huh? What?”

“I was just saying I hope the rest of your time here is better,” said Mtendaji. “Kulikulu’s a great place. You thinking of going out at all?”

“I, I don’t know,” said Twilight. Images flashed through her head of assassins jumping her in the streets. “I’m still thinking about it.”

“If you’re gonna go, try the theatre,” suggested Mtendaji. “It’s great. Anyway, I gotta get going, so…”

“That’s fine. See you later and thanks for stopping by.”

“Mmhmm.” Mtendaji left the room, pausing only to say to Mhate, “I’ll be outside.”

Mhate looked at the door, then turned to Twilight with a great effort. She coughed. “Princess, I wanted to apologize for what I did yesterday. I was… This meeting was really important to Imayini, and I was at the end of my rope, and it was down to the last hour, and…” She ruffled her mane and looked down, kicking lightly at the floor. “Look, I, I’m really sorry, a-”

“Apology accepted.”

“-nd I just want to what now?”

“I’ve been in those sorts of situations, and I can, at the very least, relate,” said Twilight. “It’s not like you meant anything by it, right? You were just trying to let off steam. So, apology accepted.”

Truth be told, though, Twilight wasn’t quite as wholehearted as she was making herself out to be. Mhate might’ve been stressed, but that was still no excuse to take things out on the Equestrians when she thought they couldn’t understand her. That didn’t say anything good about her attitude. Still, “never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity” and all, and it didn’t do to hold grudges.

“Heh. That was easy. Thanks.” Mhate grinned. It was restrained, but genuine, and a grin was a grin. “You’re the friendly kind, aren’t you?”

“Back in Equestria, my title is the Princess of Friendship. It’s kinda my thing.” Twilight paused for a moment and flicked her tail. “So, aaaaside from the attempted poisoning, did it all go okay?”

“There aren’t enough yesses in the world to encompass that.” Mhate’s grin became a bit less restrained. “It went great. Can’t really talk about the details, but yeah. Great.”

“Good.” At least something went right for somebody.

“Anyway, um, I, I should probably get going. Mtendaji’s waiting for me. So, um, see you. Maybe.”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll stop by the abada embassy sometime. Be seeing you, maybe.”

Mhate nodded and left the room. Right before she stepped out the door, she whispered to Uvivi, “Take your time.”

Twilight did a few laps around the room, just to be sure everything felt right. She wasn’t 100% yet, but it was close. Lower 90’s, maybe. The pain was mostly gone, aside from a few tingles in her hooves and wings, and her face still felt weird. But those were the kinds of things that were easy to ignore. “Should we wake up Spike and Livingstone?” she asked Uvivi. “They’ll be fine, right?”

Uvivi nodded. “They ought to be. It might still hurt for them, but they made it this far, they’ll be fine.”

“Then let’s do that and get back to the embassy.” Twilight trotted up to Spike’s bed and nudged him lightly. “Spike?”

Spike grunted and blinked a few times. But when he saw Twilight, he was wide awake in an instant. “Twilight!” He jumped off the bed and latched himself around Twilight’s neck. “I was so scared, I thought I was gonna- Wait, we’re not both dead, are we?”

Twilight giggled. “No, Spike. We’re okay. Livingstone, too.”

“But…” Spike let go of Twilight’s neck and dropped back onto the bed. “But we were poisoned, right? So how’d we…”

“Well, um…” Twilight rustled her wings and rubbed the back of her neck. “You see, Uvivi’s, um, horns can act as an antidote to poison, s-so she, um, she cut one of them off and ground it up for us to, um…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish it.

After a moment of thought, Spike blinked at Twilight, blinked at Uvivi, blinked at his hands. His pupils shrank and he coughed. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” he said matter-of-factly. “Excuse me for a moment.” He hopped off the bed and walked over to a trash can.

“Seriously,” muttered Uvivi, “why’s everyone being so weird about this? It’s just horn powder.”

“That’s why,” said Spike, leaning over the can. “In Equestria, unicorns don’t hack parts of themselves off for medicine.”

“Well, you’re missing out on some great cures.”

“If you say so.”

Twilight was at Livingstone’s side next. “Excuse me. Livingstone?” She lightly nudged her.

Livingstone slapped Twilight’s hoof away. Or at least vaguely waved her hoof in the direction of Twilight’s. “D’y’mind?” she mumbled. “‘M waitin’ f’r th’drums in m’head t’stop.”

“Do you think you can get back to our rooms?”

“G’me fiv’min’ts.”

Twilight managed to decipher that into “give me five minutes”. “Okay, but if you’re still not up by then, I’m dragging you back to the apartments myself.”

“Fine.”

Just as Twilight was wondering what to do with her five minutes, Uvivi kicked at the floor and cleared her throat. “Why don’t I teach you the translation spell? Just in case it wears off at a bad time.”

“Let’s do that,” Twilight said with a nod. “You said you start with separating the thoughts from the words, right?”

Twilight knew she was stressing when not even the possibility of books could get her out of her funk.

After returning from the medical bay, Twilight had Spike send a letter to Celestia, telling her what had happened. Celestia’s reply was about as close to panic as Twilight had ever read. Much to Spike’s chagrin, it had taken several back-and-forths for Twilight to properly assure Celestia that she was okay, ending with a promise to stay safe and send in a letter every evening to confirm her survival. But once that was done, their plans were all variants of “stay in the embassy and don’t let anyone in”. With nothing else to do, Livingstone had decided to teach Twilight and Spike the Zebran alphabet. After Twilight’s pace had proved too fast for him, Spike had picked up a late draft of one of Livingstone’s Equestrian-Zebran dictionaries so he could hopefully teach himself a little bit of Zebran, spoken or written, at his own speed.

Learning the orthography of Zebran had been easier than Twilight had thought it would be (which wasn’t saying a lot, but it was still surprisingly easy). Livingstone told her which letters made which sounds and wrote down a simple sentence in Zebran for Twilight to translate. It’d been most of the day, and the western sky was turning orange, but she already knew more than half of the symbols, enough to make a decently accurate guess at the ones she didn’t know when she had the context of a word.

But she was sure that if her mind hadn’t been wandering, she’d’ve completely learned the Zebran alphabet by now. She kept going back to the dinner and the poison. Her life being in danger was nothing new. In fact, someone specifically trying to kill her was nothing new. But someone preemptively trying to kill her? That was something else entirely.

She’d never been an assassination target back in Equestria. She just wasn’t as big a symbol as Celestia or Luna. Or even Cadance. When you got right down to it, Ponyville was ultimately just some podunk country town, not as much of a thing as the Crystal Empire. So why was someone trying to kill her now? What would that accomplish? It’d get Celestia… angry, to say the least. And no one liked Celestia when she was angry.

Unless… that was the whole point. Frame the zebras for her death, get Celestia to bring the thunder down on them, no more zebras. But who’d want that? All the people at the dinner had been a) zebras themselves, b) closely involved in business dealings with zebras, or c) both, in the case of Okubi. No, that seemed a bit unli-

“Princess?” Livingstone asked. “Um, Twilight?”

“Hmm, sorry?” Twilight said.

Livingstone tapped a certain swoopy squiggle on the parchment in front of her. “I was saying that this letter represents the ‘ng’ sound, but you seem distracted, yes. Is something wrong?”

“Take a wild guess,” muttered Twilight.

“But… you survived. Is it that bad?”

“YES!” With a flap of her wings, Twilight pushed herself to her hooves and started pacing. “I’ve barely met anybody here, and they’re already trying to murder me! I’ve only talked with Uvivi, Inkosi, and Mtendaji, and they all seemed friendly, so…” She groaned and rubbed her face. “I could handle it if this was something I knew to expect. Like they hated us and I was trying to patch things up. But I come here with a blank slate, make what I hope is a good first impression, and then I get poisoned anyway! It’s all…” She groaned and flopped to the floor.

“Look,” she said to Livingstone, “I really, truly appreciate what you’re doing. Any other time, this would be just about the best thing ever. Seriously. But right now, it’s just not enough to distract me from everything else.”

“Ah,” Livingstone said, twirling a lock of hair around her hoof. It was easily the I know I need to say something but I don’t know what form of “ah”.

“And I can’t even look into it myself, because I don’t know where to start, and I’m here as an ambassador. Even if I have diplomatic immunity, I can’t just go around tramping all over the zebras and expect them to like me.” She stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I don’t know, really.”

“Ah,” Livingstone said again. Same form of “ah”. “Would you like to, maybe, try something else, yes?”

“Like what?” asked Twilight. She rolled back to her hooves. “This is a nice place, but there isn’t much else to do in here.” She looked around at the bookshelves wistfully. If only she was able to keep her focus on learning written Zebran…

“I don’t know,” muttered Livingstone. “Maybe… I don’t know…”

“Go shopping!” yelled Spike from the next room over. He walked into the room with a stack of parchment in his hands. “No, really. Come on, Twilight, there’s a whole city open to us. How’re we gonna learn about zebras if we’re cooped up in here all day and night? We’ve gotta see what their culture’s like, right?”

“Maybe, but I’m not even sure my guards will want me leaving.”

Two more zebra guards had been waiting at the door when they came back from the medical bay, Askari and Mtetezi. Together with Stormwalker and Cumulus, they’d barricaded themselves in one of the rooms with a bunch of maps of Kulikulu and some of its buildings and had stayed there for the past several hours, with one of them coming out once in a while to get a quick drink or something to eat.

“You can at least try,” Spike said as he hopped up on a chair. “You can learn in more ways than just books, you know.” He began leafing through his papers. “Besides, it sounds like fun.”

“It does, but whether or not it’s possible is something else,” said Twilight. “Have you been studying Zebran like I asked?”

“Actually, I got bored and started drawing Power Ponies pictures.”

Twilight groaned. “Spiiiiiike…”

“Come on, I’m not you. I can’t sit with a book and learn stuff for hours.” Spike pulled out one of the larger pieces of parchment. “Besides, I think I’ve got some good ideas here. Check it out.” He held up his picture, one of Filli-Second blitzing Baron von Ruthless, and grinned a grin that said, I know it’s not very good, but I like it anyway. Although for not being very good, it wasn’t that bad.

“I’m glad you’re having fun, Spike, bu-”

“Is that her Silver Age outfit?” Before Twilight could react, Livingstone had snatched Spike’s picture away from him and was studying it intently. Before long, she was grinning. “I approve. I like the details you put in, yes.”

“Well, her current costume’s boring,” Spike said with a shrug. “It’s not much more than a plain jumpsuit, and- Wait, you know the Power Ponies?”

Livingstone laughed. “Son, I was a few years younger than you when they first premiered. I was a filly, it was all I could afford at the time, and this was back when comics were fun, without the tangled mess of continuity and crossovers you have nowadays, yes. I still have piles of them back in Equestria.”

“Really?” asked Spike brightly. “You collect comics?”

“Not anymore, but I did. Back when-”

Twilight let them go at it. She still wasn’t sure about going into Kulikulu. True, it sounded nice, but there were still plenty of safety issues. And if she brought it up, what would her guards think?

As if to answer her question, Stormwalker strode into the library with an expression on her face Twilight had never seen before: a smile. When she spoke, her voice was unusually cheery. “Good news, everypony!” (Spike coughed.) “And dragon! We now have no less than three different evacuation plans for Princess Twilight in every open area of Kulikulu’s Old Quarter, as well as for most large establishments in the same area!”

“Hooray,” Twilight said flatly.

“Which means,” Stormwalker said, still in her happy voice, “if you’d like to go out tonight and see that part of the city, Princess, you’d be about as safe as you can be at the moment.” Her smile hadn’t dropped an inch. “Askari and Mtetezi were incredibly helpful, since they’ve done this before.”

“And, for the record,” added Livingstone, “the Old Quarter’s the most interesting part of the city, yes. It’s the, how to put it, the ‘historical preservation’ district. It’s where Kulikulu was founded, and it’s kept in a most accurate depiction of the city at the time, aside from a select few modern amenities: streetlights, plumbing, that kind of thing.”

“And,” Stormwalker bubbled, “it’s close to the palace, so if anything goes wrong, we can get you back here ASAP, even if you can’t teleport!” She clapped her front hooves together. “Win-win!”

Twilight paced back and forth a few times. Well, if this wasn’t a sign, nothing was. “How close to the palace is ‘close to the palace’?”

“Ten minutes’ walk,” said Stormwalker. “Twenty at most with bad traffic. That’s without flight, remember.”

As good a time as any. “And you’re positive you can keep me safe there?”

“Absolutely,” Stormwalker said with a nod. “Those two zebra guards will be a great help. I mean, I’d still recommend staying in here, but just looking at you…” She chuckled. “That might not be the best idea for your sanity.”

Oh, hay. Might as well. Twilight still had her doubts, but staying in here any longer would drive her insane. “Alrighty then,” she said, rustling her wings. “Let’s get ready for a night on the town.”

13 - Race You to the Bottom

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Applejack scrambled down the slope in the darkness, running for her life.

They were dead. They were all dead. The ngoloko had come for them in the middle of the night, ripped open their skulls, and feasted on their brains. Zecora, Bhiza, Idube, all the others, dead. And she was next. She ran.

The slope was rugged, uneven, made even worse by the night. Every few steps, she tripped, rolling down the hill, across the sharp rocks, and opening up a new swathe of cuts across her already bloody body. Her head was swimming from the impacts. Her legs felt like burning jelly. If she pushed herself any harder, her heart would burst. But she couldn’t slow down. If she slowed down, they’d catch her.

From somewhere behind her, far too close for comfort, a ngoloko called out to its fellows. It was a harsh, grating sound, not unlike a timberwolf’s howl, but more aggressive, more untamed, more malicious. More intelligent.

Other ngoloko answered. The pack was closing in.

She looked behind her, trying to catch a glimpse of her pursuer. Big mistake: she planted her front hoof on an unstable rock. It slid out from beneath her, twisting her ankle. Her attempts to regain her balance failed, and she hit the ground hard enough to bite into her tongue. As she spat out the coppery taste of blood, she tried to stand up. But her injured hoof, unable to hold her weight, screamed in pain and she collapsed again.

Another call. Closer. Another response. Closer.

Reaching out with her good front hoof and pushing with her rear ones, Applejack kept clawing her way down the slope. The rocks scored her belly, but the pain barely registered. Keep running; that was the only thing on her mind. Keep running. Keep running keep running keep running.

Something stepped on her tail, halting her descent. Claws dug into her side and viciously flipped her over. She could barely see the ngoloko in the dark, registering only a shadowy haze three times her size. Except for the eyes. Two red eyes burned through the black, glaring at her with an intense hatred she’d never known before.

Applejack kept pawing at the rocks. Instinct. Useless. She knew it had her.

It cocked its head, and those eyes blinked. It snorted in her face. Its breath was hot, moist, and reeked with things Applejack couldn’t imagine. Then it lowered its head, opened its mouth, and enveloped her head, its teeth puncturing her skin on either side of her head. She screamed as the ngoloko’s jaws tigh-

Applejack awoke in a cold sweat, panting heavily. She looked around in a panic for a few seconds before remembering where she was. She pulled on her face with a hoof. Just a dream.

But how were the guards doing? They were still out there, weren’t they? Applejack rolled over and, quiet as she could make herself, crawled to her tent flap. She nudged it aside, and the first thing she saw was hints of orange creeping over the horizon to the east. Not too far from sunrise, then. It was odd, thinking that Celestia was still moving the sun this far away from Equestria.

Now, where was she? Guards. Right. With the orange in the sky, their silhouettes were easy to pick out, standing on an upthrust of rock, spears close at hoof. Whoever the current pair was, they didn’t look particularly worried. They appeared to be talking to one another, but if they were, their words were snatched away by the wind (not to mention that, as Zebran, they’d be incomprehensible to her anyway).

An unfamiliar shape poked its head above the ridgeline, well away from the guards and the camp. It started padding towards the tents, but before Applejack could react, one of the guards flicked a rock up from the ground and bucked it at the shape. The rock bopped the whatever right on the head and it howled, a strange sound halfway between a cat’s meow and a bear’s growl. With a hiss, the shape bounded away into the remains of the night.

A ngoloko? Maybe. It was about the same size as Idube had demonstrated the day before. It hadn’t seemed that threatening; even timberwolves took a few rocks to fully drive away. At the very least, it meant the guards could handle most of the wild animals out here. Applejack’s apprehensiveness dropped several notches.

She crawled back into her tent, hoping to get a little more shuteye before the rest of the camp had to wake up. Hopefully, she wouldn’t get any more nightmares. (Wasn’t Luna supposed to deal with nightmares? Did the dream-realm thing have a distance limit? Or was she just busy?)

After a longish period of time that still felt way too short for Applejack, Idube woke up the camp. Almost out of reflex, she looked around the camp. No wounded or injured from ngoloko, or any other animal that may or may not have been in the area. After a quick breakfast, it was time to take the carts down the rest of the slope to the Serembarti.

The slope was neither very long nor very steep; Applejack could’ve made it down quickly and easily if it was just her. Or just her and the zebras. But with the carts, it took almost an hour and a half to get everything all the way down. There wasn’t any easy way to do it, not with the slope covered in loose rocks and stones. Pulling the carts down normally wasn’t an option; with the aid of gravity, they’d just roll over their carriers. Putting the cart before the zebra and having the zebra pull back on the cart to keep it moving slowly wasn’t good either; with the loose stones, the zebra wouldn’t be able to get a good grip. Eventually, they settled on each cart getting moved down individually, with the whole team clustered around it to make sure it didn’t break away. It was boring and slow, but it worked.

During a brief rest at the bottom, Idube came up to Applejack. “Excuse me,” she said, “but I was wondering if I could ask you to help pull one of the carts today. It can get tiring for my zebras, and yesterday, you did not seem to have any problem at the crane.”

Applejack flicked her ears. “Sure you can. Why were you wonderin’ that? Ain’t like I’m doin’ anythin’ else.”

“When we are escorting certain types of people, they can get…” Idube pawed at the ground. “…rather insistent that they do no work. I assumed that you were not one of those people, given how you helped yesterday, but I just want to be sure.”

“Ain’t no way I’m one o’those layabouts,” said Applejack. “Bet you I can drag that cart the whole day!”

“If you can, that would be great,” Idube said.

Bhiza was staring at Applejack and grinning. “Do you really think you can pull cart day whole?”

Applejack grinned back. “You’re just jealous of my strength from yesterday.”

“Not after bridge.” Bhiza’s grin briefly fell into a smirk.

“…Still…”

Bhiza laughed. “If you pull cart day all, I will make your tent tonight. Yes?” She spat on her hoof and held it up.

“Yes.” Applejack spat on her own hoof and banged the two together. Making a tent was easy for her — trivial, even, and Bhiza knew that — but it was just the principle of being able to go all day without much rest because she could. She’d’ve done it if Bhiza had just dared her to do it, with nothing in return.

“For pony who does not like magic much, you think it will help you much,” Bhiza said, wiping her hoof on the ground.

“I know how my magic works. Just not other ponies’.”

The hitch to the cart required minimal adjustment to get it comfortably around Applejack. Of course it would; ponies and zebras had the same body shape, just sized differently. The hitch design seemed like it wouldn’t work for a pegasus, but that didn’t matter right now, did it? And the cart itself wasn’t too heavy. This would be easy.

And finally, Applejack saw the Serembarti up close.

It was magnificent.

Endless, endless grass, as far as the eye could see. Lush and green, it was like a really expensive (if somewhat simple) dinner was spread out, just waiting for her to eat it. There wasn’t much else — every now and then, a tree was placed on the plain, almost randomly, but that was it — but that didn’t matter to Applejack. It was just so open and free. It didn’t feel dangerous like the jungle, but it also didn’t feel laid-back; it felt energetic, like the kind of place Applejack wanted to gallop through all day, running wild for the sake of running wild. It was sublime. It was life.

The zebras must’ve felt it, too; someone spontaneously started singing some kind of marching song, and everyone else joined in. Applejack couldn’t understand a lick of it, but she still managed to memorize the tune and hum it.

Unfortunately, that led to some small problems for Applejack; being smaller than the zebras (if only by a little), she took shorter steps, so as she marched in time with them, she either fell behind or had to take larger steps than usual. After a few minutes of switching back and forth between the two, she just settled into taking normal, small-for-zebras steps and speeding up into a canter whenever the need arose. No one noticed or seemed to care, though.

Except for Bhiza. “You take steps small,” she said with a grin after another five-second canter.

“Ain’t my fault,” said Applejack. “I’m smaller than y’all.”

“You are.” Bhiza’s grin grew wider.

“‘Course, I’m also stronger than y’all.”

“…You are,” Bhiza admitted; her grin vanished. She looked briefly at the cart. “Are you still not tired?”

“Heck no,” Applejack said. She smirked; she was feeling just fine, and would probably continue to do so for most of the day. “I’m as lively as the smilin’ day.”

Bhiza cocked her head.

“I ain’t tired at all.”

“Do all ponies talk like that? Or only you?”

“Most don’t. They’re my countryisms.”

“Coun-try-is-ms,” muttered Bhiza. “They make as much sense as kiboko dry.”

“Kibowhat now?”

Bhiza smiled. “You see?” She laughed. “Kiboko live in water. Should not get dry. Kiboko dry is strange very.”

Applejack snorted in amusement. “That’s an interestin’ way of puttin’ it.”

“You began it.”

As they traveled across the plains, Applejack barely tired at all; the cart wasn’t too heavy, and the ground was level. One thing earth pony magic couldn’t do anything about, however, was the heat. It’d been hot in the jungle, but out here, with no shade, the sun simply beat down, almost feeling like a physical blow. Her hat couldn’t do much to protect her. It wasn’t the hottest Applejack had ever been, but it was still up there. At least it was a dry heat.

It’d been late summer when she left Equestria, Applejack reflected, late enough that the Running of the Leaves had only been a few weeks away in Ponyville. It’d still definitely been summer, but it’d been the cooler end of summer. Not here. Here, it felt like midsummer, and an especially hot midsummer at that.

None of the zebras seemed to notice. Applejack kept sweating, but all the zebras looked just peachy. Right next to her, Bhiza was whistling a jaunty tune and did look remotely sweaty. Zebras were better equipped to deal with the heat, probably; Zecora had never seemed too bothered by Ponyville’s worst summers, but had often bundled up for minor chills that even Apple Bloom had laughed at. Was it a psychological thing, with zebras being used to hotter overall temperatures, or did the stripes have something to do with it?

For that matter, what season was it here? Zebra seasons didn’t necessarily have to follow pony seasons. For all she knew, this could actually be midsummer in Zebrabwe. “Bhiza? Out of curiosity, what season is it right now?”

Bhiza paused briefly in her whistling to say a single word: “Dry.”

Applejack blinked and paid attention to the ground beneath her hooves. True, the ground felt a bit drier than back in Equestria, so it was probably a dry season, but that hadn’t been what she’d been asking about at all. “I noticed. Which season is it?”

Bhiza’s whistling puttered out and she gave Applejack a strange look. “It is season dry.”

“Well, sure, I can see it’s a dry season,” said Applejack, biting back the urge to sigh, “but what’s the name of the season?”

“Dry! Season is named dry!”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” said Applejack, nodding skeptically. “As opposed to, what, the wet season?”

Bhiza looked at Applejack like she was stupid. “Yes! We are now in season dry! In moon previous, we were in season wet!”

Applejack stumbled a little. “What? Y’all got seasons called wet and dry out here?”

“Yes.” The look on Bhiza’s face grew increasingly worried. “During season wet, we make it rain. During season dry, we do not, except for occasions few special.”

“…Oh.” Applejack looked down the ground. That made some sort of sense, but at the same time, not really. Saving all your rainfall for a focused period of time would make it easier to grow food during that time, but it also meant that you had to be more careful with storing food; you couldn’t spread your growing out to make things easier. Of course, zebras probably had all kinds of artificial irrigation techniques, but why bother with those when you could just ration out the season’s rain? “Y’all got any other seasons besides wet and dry?”

“No. We do not need they. Why? What seasons do you have?”

“Equestria has four seasons, an-”

“Four?!” Bhiza looked like she couldn’t decide whether she should be dumbstruck or laughing her tail off. “Why four? Two are good.”

“I dunno. Tradition, I guess.”

“It is tradition,” Bhiza said, lightly rubbing an elbow in Applejack’s ribs, “that ponies stay in Equestria and zebras stay in Zebrabwe. But you are here, and I want to go there.”

“Yeah, but…” Applejack shook her head. “Anyway, our seasons are spring, summer, fall, and winter. Spring’s probably like your wet. Everythin’s beginnin’ to grow, there’s a lotta rain, that sorta thin’.”

“Sounds like wet,” Bhiza said with a nod. “Sommer?”

“Summer. It’s got rain, but not as much as spring. But there, things grow faster’n green grass through a goose.”

Bhiza flicked her ears and cocked her head.

“Real fast. Anyway, summer’s hot. It ain’t quite this hot, though.” Applejack took off her hat and fanned herself with it.

“This is not hot,” said Bhiza. “Return in moons two. That is hot.”

“Um, alright. So then there’s fall. It’s gettin’ colder again, and with the harvest windin’ down, we prepare the trees for winter by gettin’ the leaves down, and- What’s so funny?”

Bhiza was walking in an awkward three-legged gait; her spare hoof was pressed to her mouth to try and stem the laughter. “You… take leaves… from trees?” A few snorts escaped from her nose. “Looks silly, yes?”

“It ain’t that silly,” muttered Applejack, flicking her ears. “It keeps the trees healthy, makes ‘em stronger.”

“If you say,” Bhiza said. She started walking with all four legs again, but still couldn’t help a few giggles escaping. “And winter?”

“Winter’s the time when we let the earth rest. It’s cold and it snows so-”

“Wait. Snows?” Bhiza said the word even more slowly than usual, as if she’d never heard it before.

“Yeah. Snow. Y’know?”

“No.”

Applejack blinked. She’d never considered that zebras wouldn’t know what snow was, but if Zebrabwe was kept hotter than Equestria, it made sense. “Well, it’s frozen water, an-”

“Ice?”

“Well, no, not exactly. More like…” Applejack flicked her tail in thought. “More like ice dust.”

“Ice dust,” Bhiza muttered to herself. She twitched. “That… thing cold and white on top of Kwatomanjaro? It is mountain tall very,” she added quickly.

“Then, yeah, that’s probably snow.”

“How long is winter?”

“Three moons.”

Bhiza’s jaw dropped. “Y-you have snow for moons three? But it is cold very very!” She shivered. “Do you not freeze?”

“Nah, it ain’t that bad,” Applejack said with a shake of her head. “Just wear warm clothes outside and keep those fires high inside.”

Bhiza didn’t look convinced. “I do not like winter.”

“Y’ain’t seen it yet.”

“I. Do not. Like. Winter.”

Applejack chuckled. “Really, it ain’t bad. You just nee-”

Idube yelled something and the caravan screeched to a halt; Applejack almost ran headlong into the zebra ahead of her. She looked forward; their path was blocked by a long line of some kind of animal. Not a particularly big animal, but whatever they were, there was a lot of them, stretching in both directions. Applejack waited a few moments, but Idube didn’t say anything else and the caravan didn’t start moving again.

“Hang on,” Applejack said to Bhiza. She sidestepped as best she could with the cart and headed towards the front of the line. A few zebras shot looks at her, but none made any attempt to stop her. Idube was pacing back and forth, muttering under her breath and glaring at the animals. This close, Applejack could finally get a good look at them.

They resembled buffalo if buffalo were a lot smaller. And wimpier. They looked very similar and had the same general shape, but where buffalo were big and powerful, these animals were a little smaller than Applejack and kind of scrawny. But they held themselves in a way that gave them more dignity than they’d have otherwise. And maybe a hint of aloofness. None of them gave the zebras so much as a glance.

Applejack looked in one direction, towards what she hoped was the end of the line. The line of animals stretched off down towards the horizon, so far she couldn’t see the end of it. She looked over her shoulder at the zebras. They all looked varying degrees of angry, but none of them were actually moving at all. In fact, some of them were settling down, as if they were going to rest. But why?

“Hey! Idube!” called Applejack. “What’s up? Why ain’t we movin’?”

Idube looked at the herd, then back at Applejack. An “are you crazy” expression flitted across her face for a few instants before she remembered Applejack wouldn’t know what was up. “Those are the nyumbu,” she said. “They grow most of our food, and… Long story short, we do not want to make them angry, so we must wait until they pass us by.”

“But would that really make them that angry? We ought to just be ab-”

Idube pointed at the herd. “Those are the nyumbu,” she said. “They grow most of our food. Do not piss off the nyumbu.”

“Look,” said Applejack, “I just don’t see why they can-”

Idube gripped Applejack’s head between her front hooves, forcefully wrenched it to one side, and looked her in the eyes. “Those are the nyumbu,” Idube rumbled. “They grow most of our food.” She leaned in close enough to touch muzzles with her. “Do not. Piss off. The nyumbu.” Her teeth were clenched and her voice had dropped to a low, downright hostile growl.

Applejack squirmed, but Idube had her in too firm a squeeze for escape to be an easy option. Idube glared at her, and eventually Applejack gave up. “Fine,” she muttered. “I ain’t pissin’ off the numbu.”

“Nyumbu,” Idube said. “With a ‘y’ after the ‘n’.” But she released Applejack.

Brushing herself off, Applejack grunted about nothing in particular and looked down the line of nyumbu again. It wasn’t just long, it was loooooong, and it was moving slowly. Not even because of its size; the nyumbu didn’t look like they were in any particular hurry and just kept moseying along. The slowness had the deliberate annoyance of someone who knows they’re too invaluable to you for you to do anything to them, so they deliberately mess with you. It made Applejack want to unhitch herself and buck a clean path straight through the line, but that’d piss off the nyumbu. And she’d said she wouldn’t piss off the nyumbu.

“So, what,” she said, “we’re all just waitin’ here until they pass us by?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” mumbled Idube. She ruffled her mane and sighed. “And that may take hours.” She snorted. “We are stopping for lunch now. You can take the cart off if you want.”

Applejack didn’t need to be told twice. She was just beginning to feel the strain of all those hours of walking, sweat was collecting under the straps, and trying to rest with the hitch on would be all sorts of uncomfortable. Going back to her place at the end of the convoy, she undid a few clips and half-fell out of the cart. Bhiza was right next to her, lying on her back and glaring up at the sky.

“What’s up with the nyumbu?” Applejack asked, settling down next to her. “Why’s it so important that we don’t make them angry?” She hesitantly looked up at the nyumbu; none of them seemed to be listening to her group.

Bhiza snorted. “They grow food. Not just for Zebrabwe, for countries many around here. We make them angry, they probably stop growing food for we.”

“Probably?”

“It has happened in past. Not to zebras, but…” Bhiza rubbed the back of her neck and shivered. “Quagga tried, once. Time long past. They are… not here anymore.”

Applejack boggled. “The nyumbu starved ‘em to death? All of ’em?”

Bhiza nodded solemnly.

“Yeesh.” Applejack looked back at the line “But… but just cuttin’ across their line real quick? That’s gotta be too small to make ‘em angry.”

“We have not tried. Do you want to try?”

“Maybe not.” Applejack looked down the line of nyumbu. The long line. The long, long line. The long, long, long line. She sighed. “Y’all know how long this is gonna take?”

“No.”

“Great.” With nothing else to do, Applejack rolled onto her back next to Bhiza and glared up at the sky.

14 - Rock This Town

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“What about this one?” Spike asked, holding up another necklace.

“I, I don’t know,” said Twilight. “It looks nice, but I don’t want to spend any of Inkosi’s money on frivolous things.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “She’s the king, Twi. She’s got so much money that spending bits on this-”

“Spending lijamu. They don’t use bits here.”

“Whatever. It’s just that whatever we spend here will be a drop in the bucket compared to what she has.”

“I know, but…”

“We could just take it,” said Spike. “Diplomatic immunity.” (The shopkeeper’s eye twitched again and she clenched her jaw even more tightly.)

Twilight sighed and rubbed her forehead. “For the sixth time, that’s not what diplomatic immunity’s for.”

“So?”

“And besides, anyone who would use diplomatic immunity like that doesn’t deserve it in the first place.”

“Yeah, but-”

The shopkeeper cleared her throat. “Ma’am and sir. While I appreciate officials such as yourselves paying a visit to my humble store, your continued and already-rather-lengthy presence without making any advancement towards an actual purchase is trying my patience, and I would appreciate it if you made room for actual customers who genuinely wish to support my business.”

Spike cocked his head. “Meaning…?”

The shopkeeper sucked in a long breath between clenched teeth and let it through her nose. “Meaning get out or buy something and get out!”

Twilight readied her tail for a flick to the nose in case Stormwalker tried to yell at the shopkeeper, but the most she heard was a light snort. She tried to smile at the shopkeeper. “One more minute, okay? Promise.”

“Fine,” said the shopkeeper. “59. 58. 57.”

They were in the central marketplace of Kulikulu’s Old Quarter and, true to Livingstone’s word, it was vibrant and hopping. Zebras were everywhere, taking up so much space that Spike sometimes had to ride on Twilight’s back to keep from getting trampled underhoof. The crowd was only giving them space in the most technical sense of the word, about two or three extra inches. Their clothes were spectacularly colorful, as if to make up for the drab black-and-whiteness of the zebras’ coats. Reds and oranges were the most popular, but they covered the whole gamut of colors and styles, enough to make Rarity swoon with glee several times over. They weren’t all cloth, either; Twilight was sure she spotted one zebra with an outfit made entirely out of snakeskin. And that wasn’t getting into the smells from the food, which were almost overpowering.

The marketplace itself wasn’t that different from Ponyville’s, surprisingly; mostly, it was just bigger. A large courtyard constructed from stone, it felt much older than the skyscrapers of steel and glass on the other side of the city, and Twilight only knew the flickering lamps lighting the place up were electric because there was no way you could get a flame that small to be that bright. A few lucky zebras had their stores in the buildings surrounding the courtyard, but the majority of stores (such as the jeweler’s they were currently at) were semi-temporary stalls around the market. With the dense crowd and foundationless stalls, Twilight was sure it’d be a recipe for disaster, but nothing ever collapsed. The stalls themselves were also built to look old and did quite a good job at it, with only things like screws that had obviously been machined giving them away, and then only if you looked closely.

The jeweler’s cart Twilight and Spike were perusing was fairly unassuming, but to Twilight’s eyes, the jewelry inside was just glamorous enough without being completely gaudy. It wasn’t all metal and gems, either; a surprising amount of the jewelry was made from wood or polished stone. The thought of wearing one of the necklaces at some formal occasion was appealing, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Inkosi had given them access to her own funds with some form of token stamp supposedly used by zebras at times in place of money — a form of credit, Twilight gathered. The token held a reservoir of ink inside it, and the edge was rolled across a finance record, stamping out the details of the buyer (in this case, Inkosi). However, although shopkeepers so far had accepted the marks readily enough, Twilight didn’t want to use them much, so as not to intrude on Inkosi’s hospitality.

Stormwalker was watching over Twilight and Spike, while Livingstone was off with Cumulus, doing… something. Askari and Mtetezi were nowhere to be seen at the moment, but that didn’t bother Twilight much. They were, as Stormwalker had put it, the invisible bodyguards, while herself and Cumulus were the visible ones. Anyone looking to attack Twilight would obviously see Stormwalker and Cumulus, but would almost definitely miss Askari and Mtetezi. The two zebras were out in the crowd, doing ordinary crowd things and in the plainest clothes you could imagine, but never getting more than thirty feet from Twilight. Every now and then, she’d look around, check that they were still close, and she’d see Mtetezi haggling about a vase in the next shop over, or Askari sipping tea next to a fountain. She didn’t doubt the two of them were still close.

“52,” continued the shopkeeper. “51.”

“Come on, Twilight, pick something,” said Spike.

“Quiet. I’m thinking.” She really was. After a few seconds, she was torn between a medallion inset with a few sapphires and a string necklace with a geometric wood carving dangling from it. The sapphires would go well with her coat and eyes, but she hadn’t seen anything quite like the wood necklace before.

The shopkeeper’s patience seemed to have completely run out; she was drumming her hoof on the countertop and didn’t look the slightest bit interested in helping Twilight pick either. She’d definitely long passed the point at which Twilight, Spike, and Stormwalker ceased to interesting. “38. 37. 36.”

At 31, Twilight had a brainwave and simply picked up both of them in her magic. “You know what? I’ll take both of these.”

The shopkeeper was so absolutely done with it all that she didn’t even react to the use of magic. Instead, she simply shoved over the necklaces in a bag and took Inkosi’s token without complaint. “Very good thank you for shopping here have a nice day now please let other customers in thank you!”

Twilight, Spike, and Stormwalker quickly slipped back into the crowd. In spite of their differences, no one seemed to be paying them much attention; there was just too much else going on. Twilight had a sneaking suspicion Inkosi herself could’ve walked through the marketplace and not gathered anything more than a few double-takes.

“Both of them?” Spike asked. He grinned and nudged Twilight in the ribs. “You’re getting soft.”

“Actually, I picked up this one-” Twilight held up the sapphire-studded one. “-for you. You can give it to Rarity when we get back.”

Spike’s face lit up. “Really? Thanks!” He examined the necklace. “Yeah, she’d like that. Those are some really nice gems. Cool. Thanks.”

Twilight smiled, but it faded quickly and she started looking around the crowd, trying to find Livingstone and Cumulus. Thanks to the zebras’ height, she could barely see anything. “I think we should meet back up with Livingstone and Cumulus. Just to be sure we’re all still okay.”

Stormwalker nodded and whistled a short but complicated tune. It was, she’d explained earlier, a system of signals the guards had developed for quick communication. In spite of the noise of the crowd, it was quite piercing and traveled easily.

A moment later, Askari slipped out of the crowd. “Quick update: haven’t seen anyone around that looks suspicious. Neither has Mtetezi. Livingstone and Cumulus are both doing fine, but give me a moment to get them. Just so you know.” She slid back into the crowd before Twilight could thank her.

The knowledge that she appeared to be safe was comforting to Twilight, but her brain kept swirling with what ifs. It was good to be out, but going to the market was probably a bad idea. It was too open, too crowded. Twilight kept feeling like someone that her guards had missed was right behind her, ready to stab her in the neck. She couldn’t keep her wings still or herself from glancing around, trying to see any potential assassins.

Stormwalker cleared her throat. “Your Highness, stop jumping at shadows, constantly looking over your shoulder, and generally acting like everyone here is going to try to kill you. That’s my job.”

“Sorry, I know, it’s just… I’m nervous,” Twilight said. “I’ve never had to watch my back like this before, and I’m starting to think coming to the market may have been a mistake. You seem a lot happier,” she added. Indeed, ever since they’d left the palace, Stormwalker had seemed far more mellow than she’d ever been before. Definitely alert, from the tension in her wings and the twitches in her tail, but her frown no longer appeared to be etched in stone.

“Well, yeah,” said Stormwalker. She started smiling. “Now, I actually have a reason to be looking out for you, and an environment to be doing it in. Honestly, you should’ve gotten poisoned a long time ago!”

Twilight and Spike stared at her.

“…That could not have come out worse if I’d tried,” said Stormwalker, her grin not dropping an inch.

“That’s one way to put it,” said Spike.

A few moments later, Livingstone and Cumulus pushed their way out of the crowd, Askari and Mtetezi right on their heels. Livingstone had a skewer loaded with exotic fruits and vegetables strapped to one of her forelegs and was happily snarfing it down. “Tvivight!” she said. “Yuh veed tuh tvy diff!” She waved her foreleg in Twilight’s face. “Tvy it!”

Twilight nudged the stick away. “No thanks. I’m not hungry.”

Spike, on the other hand, plucked one of the fruits off and began cutting it into pieces with his claws. “Are you okay, Twilight? You’ve seemed distracted the whole time we’ve been here.” He was hiding it well, but his eyes were filled with worry.

“I’m not sure we should have come here,” Twilight said. “I mean, here here, not just out of the embassy, I’m glad we’re out. But this place…” She looked around the group. “It’s too open. I feel like a… like a target.”

“Wehh,” Livingstone said, “yuh coulh goh fummplafe elfe, yeff. Dere’v a featah noh fah fwumm heah.”

“Swallow and say that again.”

Livingstone swallowed. “This isn’t the only place you could go to. There’s a theater not far from here. It’s far less crowded, far easier to spot someone coming. Zebras have a rich dramatic history, yes, stretching back to before they invented writing and all they had were storytellers. I was actually planning a book on that… sometime.”

“I guess I could do that,” muttered Twilight. “You’re sure I’m less likely to be targeted there?”

Livingstone shrugged. “I haven’t been victim of an assassination attempt, no. I don’t know. But there are less ways for people to creep up on you there, so I would say so.”

“A building would be preferable to all this space,” said Stormwalker. “Far less angles of attack.”

“Then let’s do that. I hate being paranoid.”

Spike cleared his throat. “But you do love finding new ways to re-re-reorganize your books every other weekend?”

“That’s different, Spike. The right order of books is important. Also, my life isn’t on the line there.”

Livingstone led them out of the marketplace and down a block to a largish building, made of stone but extravagantly painted and drawing a steady line of zebras. The orthography lessons had paid off; Twilight could make out just enough of the sign to read what she thought translated as the “Old Quarter Theater”. The building didn’t seem large enough to hold a full-sized stage, but Livingstone assured Twilight that it was largely underground, as opposed to being built up. It was what Twilight had wanted, but the decision wasn’t unanimous. She had no idea what was playing, but that didn’t matter; she’d go see it, whatever it was.

“Okay, Twi, it’s great that you want to take a break from all this,” said Spike, “but what about me? I’m fine with staying out here, and you know I don’t like plays anyway unless I’m in them. Besides, I’m a dragon. How’re they gonna hurt me?”

“I can stay out here if you want me to, yes,” added Livingstone quickly.

Fortunately for Spike, Twilight had already put some thought into this. “You can go back to the marketplace,” she said, “but stay with Livingstone and Cumulus. At all times. Got it?”

“Twilight, I-”

“Look, Spike, this isn’t Equestria. I know you can take care of yourself, but just yesterday, someone tried to poison you and me. They might come after us again.” Twilight wrapped a wing around him and pulled him close. Looking into his eyes, she said, “I know you’ll probably be okay. I just want to make that as close to definitely as we can. Okay? So stick together.”

“O-okay,” said Spike. He hesitated, then jumped up and hugged Twilight around the neck. “I’ll be safe. Don’t worry.”

Twilight stroked his head and let him drop. “So, um, how’ll we divvy up you two?” she asked, pointing at Askari and Mtetezi.

“I’ll stay with you,” Askari said. “Mtetezi can keep guarding Spike and Livingstone as usual.” Mtetezi nodded in agreement.

“That sounds good,” said Twilight. “And we’ll meet back here in… in…”

“The current show takes about an hour and a half,” Livingstone said quickly, looking at the marquee. “So then. And if you hurry, you can catch it before it starts, yes.”

“Sounds great,” said Twilight. She nuzzled Spike one last time. “Stay safe.”

“You, too,” said Spike. “See you later!” He and Livingstone departed, and Twilight turned and entered the theatre.

Inside, it was like stepping into a completely different world. The temperature dropped at least ten degrees and the aesthetic changed from thousands of years ago to not-quite-modern; it didn’t have the chrome and angles normally associated with ultramodern architecture, but Twilight had never liked that style anyway. Instead, it was… not exactly classy, but it wouldn’t take much to get there. The design was simple, dark red carpeting with hardwood paneling on polished stone walls, but it worked. A small-but-growing line was in front of the box office, with the zebras dressed up in varying degrees of well-to-do-ness. A lot of them had noticed Twilight and her group and were whispering and pointing, but Twilight had gotten used to that by now. On instinct, she made a move to step into the line, but Askari nudged her away.

“Don’t get in line,” Askari whispered to her. “They’ll recognize you from the news. Wait a moment, aaaand…”

In a few seconds, a sharp-dressed zebra, probably an usher of some kind, strode out from behind the ticket booth. She was completely unfazed by Twilight or Stormwalker. “Your Highness,” she said, bowing slightly. “I had heard of the arrival of foreign dignitaries in the papers, and I can only presume you are they. If you would follow me…” She turned and walked off around the box office, further into the theatre.

Twilight blinked at Stormwalker and Askari, shrugged, and trotted off after the usher, down a hall. After a few moments, she realized she had to get used to lengthening her strides to keep up with the usher instead of shortening them to not go too fast. Zebras being larger than her was weird. “Excuse me,” she asked, “but where are we going? Don’t I need to buy a ticket?”

“Not for you, ma’am,” the usher responded. “As an ambassador, you are entitled to have access to the boxes reserved for nobility.”

“Really? You’re just… giving them to me?”

The usher nodded. “Naturally. You are royalty in your own country, after all. It’s only fitting that you be treated as such here.”

“Oh, you really don’t need to,” Twilight said quickly, “I’m fine with payi-”

But the usher waved her off. “It’s no problem. We’re not going to make or break over a few lijamu. Inkosi is a great patron of the arts; this is our way of showing thanks.”

Askari took a few quick steps to lean over and whisper in Twilight’s ear. “Take it. The view’s great, and this way, we don’t have to wait in line.”

Twilight snorted. She could wait in line. Waiting in line was nothing. But if everyone was so insistent on getting her there, she might as well do it. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

But once they reached the end of the hallway, the last door had a zebra guard standing at attention in front of it. He made no move to block them, but the meaning of his presence was clear. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” the usher said, “but that box is currently occupied. If you wish and they allow it, the box is large enough to share, but if you prefer to be alone, this box is almost as good.” She gestured to the next door over.

Twilight was about to take a step towards the second box when an idea popped into her head. I’ve barely talked to any zebras. What kind of ambassador am I? I need to get to know them a bit more. “I’ll see what they’re like,” she said. “If I don’t like them, I can just move, right?”

“Very well. Have a pleasant day, ma’am.” The usher bowed and left Twilight’s group.

“You can go in and stand with her,” Askari said to Stormwalker. “I’ll stay out here.”

Stormwalker nodded and gestured to the door. “Your Highness.”

Twilight pushed open the door to the box and, when she saw who the other spectator in the box was, her heart sank.

Another guard at her side, Kutengwa looked over at Twilight and her jaw tightened slightly. “Oh,” she said. Her voice was flat enough that it was hard to tell what she was feeling. “You. Hello.” She whipped her head back to the play.

The isolationist. The one who wanted nothing more than to kick Twilight back to Equestria. Twilight almost left the box for the next one. But… Maybe I can convince her otherwise, Twilight thought. Or at least get her started. It was hardly likely she’d get Kutengwa to abandon her ways in a single night, but maybe she could convince her that she wasn’t entirely right. With some reluctance, Twilight settled on a cushion on the opposite side of the box as Kutengwa.

“Your Highness, are you sure about this?” muttered Stormwalker. “She’s that-”

“No,” said Twilight. “But I’ve barely talked to any zebras. If I’m going to be a diplomat, I need to get to know zebras. Of all kinds. I don’t like it, but it’s important that I do it.”

“And if she’s… You know… the one who…” Stormwalker drew a hoof across Twilight’s neck.

Twilight lowered her voice enough that only Stormwalker could hear it. “Then this would be a very strange place for her or her guards to attempt something and be able to deny it. Besides…” She sparked her horn.

Stormwalker grunted. “If you say so.” She stood up and faced the stage.

Twilight glanced over at Kutengwa, who had mastered the art of not paying attention to somebody. It’d probably take a lot for Twilight to get her to notice her. She sighed. Hopefully, Spike and Livingstone were having better success at whatever they were doing.

Spike was doing just fine. Being a dragon and resistant to physical harm the same way Rarity was resistant to plaid, he was considerably less worried than Twilight. He also hadn’t fully gotten it yet that there could be people out there trying to kill him; he’d always been Twilight’s shadow (something he was fine with), so Twilight had been the one of importance, not him. He half-thought he’d been poisoned by mistake. Long story short, the idea of getting killed wasn’t weighing on him the same it was weighing on Twilight, and at the moment, he was discussing important things with Livingstone.

“Oh, come on. Batmare Forever is way better. Well, more like less bad.”

“It’s too campy. Batmare Returns is far more down-to-earth and mature, yes.”

“It’s got an army of rocket launcher penguins!”

“It knows when it can be silly.”

“But the silliness clashes with your ‘maturity’-” Spike made air quotes. “-in all the wrong ways. At least Forever knows what it wants to be.”

“And what it wants to be is bad, yes. All that… neon…” Livingstone cringed. “It’s so garish and hard to look at.”

“At least it’s got more than one set. Pretty much every scene in Batmare Returns happens at the same place. And besides, she kills ponies in Returns and even looks happy about it. Batmare doesn’t do that.”

“That is an excellent point, and one that always bugged me, yes, but it’s hardly the only thing that matters.” Livingstone sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Since it’s obvious each of us won’t convince the other, can we at least agree Batmare and Trottin is a diseased abomination that needs to be destroyed with fire and its ashes cleansed with holy water?”

“Deal.”

“That is sufficient. You know…” Livingstone reared on her hind legs for a few seconds to look over the zebras. When she fell back down, she grunted and rubbed her back.

“You okay?” Spike asked.

“I’m fine. Merely old, yes. Bad back.” Livingstone rolled her shoulders. “Now, Zebrabwe actually has its own comics industry. It does things… a touch differently, yes, but it nearly identical to Equestria’s in all the ways that count. What do you say we find a stall selling them and get you some?”

Spike rolled his eyes. “But I won’t be able to read them. I barely know Zebran and I definitely can’t read it.”

“Motivation to learn both, yes. I can write out the transcriptions, if you like. I find that direct comparison helps with learning the letters.”

That could probably work. “Oh, fine. Let’s take a look.”

Livingstone grinned. “Good. Good. I think you’ll like them. They had some excellent writers when last I was here, so if the current issues turn out to be… less than decent, we can at least pick up some old ones that are still go-”

She was cut off by Cumulus loudly clearing his throat. “Hate to interrupt, but…” Cumulus looked over his shoulder for a moment, then continued, in a lower voice, “I think we’re being followed.”

Spike gasped. “Followed?” he whispered. “By who?”

“Some zebras dressed all in black who’re trying too hard to keep their weapons hidden and not look at us. Just saw them.” Cumulus whistled something to Mtetezi. “Just keep doing what you’re doing, maybe head for the edge of the market. Try not to act like you’ve noticed them. I’ll keep you safe,” said Cumulus. One of his ears swiveled to pick up a noise Spike couldn’t hear. “So will Mtetezi. She’s seen them, too.”

Spike and Livingstone stared at each other for a moment. Livingstone coughed. “So… comics?”

“I, I guess,” muttered Spike. All of a sudden, he could see precisely where Twilight had been coming from. Even after getting poisoned, the fact that he was still okay meant the idea that “someone is trying to kill me” hadn’t fully crystallized in his mind. But now…

Livingstone nodded, coughed again, and patted her back. “You can… ride if you want, yes.”

There wasn’t much else to do. As Spike climbed up, he wondered if he should’ve gone to the theatre after all.

15 - Across the Line

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They’d been there almost an hour, it was just past noon, they’d had lunch, and still the nyumbu kept moseying on. The line hadn’t gotten smaller as far as Applejack could see. It just stretched on and on and on.

The thing was, as Applejack looked at the line, it didn’t look all that thick. It wasn’t tightly packed or anything; even a zebra could slip through it with minimal difficulty. Of course, the zebras weren’t the problem; the problem was the carts, which were a lot bulkier and quite unwieldy. But, still, with that much space, surely the nyumbu could step aside for just a few seconds, right? They didn’t even need to stop, they could just go around the cart. Applejack had brought this up with Idube, but Idube was pretty set on not pushing her chances.

“It’s just a few carts!” Applejack protested. “I get that they grow food for y’all, and that you don’t want them to stop, but can they really not step aside for a few seconds?”

Idube sighed. “I do not know. I have never experienced this personally and I am not sure what to do. I would prefer to not take my chances. I do not like it any more than you do.”

Applejack groaned and loped back over to Bhiza, who was trotting in place in desperation for something to do. Applejack kicked at a stone. “Why do the nyumbu all gotta move now? Can’t they go in smaller groups?”

“I do not know,” said Bhiza in between breaths. “And they are late this year. They should have gone moon last.”

“They’ve got schedules?” Applejack asked, settling down.

“They move at end of season each,” Bhiza said. “Change places to grow food as weather changes. I think word is… mi-gra-tion?” She stopped trotting and pulled out her lasso.

“That sounds right, yeah.”

“They go from place to place to grow food more good. They are late this year.” She began trying to lasso random shrubs around them. She was actually getting quite good at it, getting them most of the time.

“Hmm.” As Applejack looked over the nyumbu, she realized none of them were stopping to let the zebras through, or providing bigger gaps. Oh, they definitely saw the zebras; quite a few of them gave the group disdainful glances for a few moments. But at no point did any of them go, Hey, there’s a lot of us and a little of them. Maybe we should let them through. Maybe Idube and Bhiza had a point. Any people that inconsiderate might actually stop food for small reasons. Heck, they’d already done so in the past.

But on the other hoof… three carts. If they couldn’t handle that, why hadn’t they flown off the handle already sometime in the past? Were the zebras just bending over backwards for them? But Idube didn’t know what to do. You’d think there’d be some kind of instructions for this sort of thing, just to be absolutely sure your people didn’t piss off the nyumbu.

But maybe… “Any chance we can talk to ‘em?” asked Applejack. “Ask ‘em to stop for just a sec and let us through?”

“A… sec?” questioned Bhiza.

“A second. A short time.”

Bhiza looked at the line and her ears stood up a little. “We can try. I can… say your words in nyumbu language.”

“Great. But first we gotta get one to stop.” Applejack trotted right up next to the line and cleared her throat. “Uh, hey? Nyumbu?” Even if they didn’t understand her, they’d probably get what she was saying and slow down.

Or not. Only one or two of them even looked at her. None of them slowed down. Applejack cleared her throat and raised her voice. “Hey! One of y’all better listen to me!” No result. She looked over her shoulder at Bhiza, who just shrugged.

Applejack sighed and took a few steps into the line. The nyumbu parted around her like fish in a shoal, but they didn’t pause at all. “Hey!” Applejack borderline yelled. “Hey, I-! I was wonderin’-!” She kept turning to each incoming nyumbu, only for the nyumbu to turn and go around her. “C’mon, you lily-livered morons, listen to me!”

They did not listen, and the only way she knew that they heard her at all was a few of them cast haughty glances in her direction. Applejack huffed and stalked out of the herd.

“Bad?” Bhiza asked cautiously.

“They’re so stuck up,” Applejack muttered, “they’d drown in a rainstorm.”

Bhiza cocked her head, but before Applejack could explain it, she grinned, laughed, and clapped her hooves together. “That is good!” she said. “I must try it.” She settled back on the grass, chuckling.

Well, at least one of them was happy. Applejack just stewed. Really? It was really that hard for them to make room? Even with a herd that size, you’d think at least one of the nyumbu would stop and talk to them, if only to say, “We’re not stopping. Nyeh nyeh. Bug off.” It’d take forever for the nyumbu to get by.

But, then again, none of them had seemed all that bothered about Applejack actually being in the herd…

She took one last look down the line. It wasn’t getting any shorter. She squinted up at the sun. It wasn’t getting any cooler.

“Screw it,” she muttered. She walked over to her cart and began clipping herself in.

“Applejack? What are you doing?” Bhiza asked.

“Gettin’ to the other side of that.” Applejack jabbed her head at the line of nyumbu.

“But… but th-”

“Oh, hush.” Applejack waved a hoof and started walking away from the camp, in the opposite direction of the nyumbu’s travel. “If it looks like they ain’t gonna like it, I’ll stop. It’s just one cart.”

Bhiza galloped around Applejack and stood in front of her. She looked worried, but also unsure of herself. “Much of my food comes from they,” she said quietly, “and food of others, also. I do-”

“Y’all said the quagga were cut off from their food,” Applejack said. She continued walking, forcing Bhiza to start taking backwards steps. “I get that that’s bad, but what did they do?”

“I…” Bhiza bit her lip and flicked her tail. “I do not know. I think they fought with…” She ruffled what little mane she had. “…somebody.”

“They didn’t try to cross a line?”

“…No…”

“So lemme try. This ain’t much. And if they object and try to stop your food or whatever, I’ll get Twilight to come over and talk with them.” Satisfied that she’d gone far enough down the line, Applejack began sidestepping to turn the cart around. “She’s real good with this sorta thing. I’d bet my tail she’s makin’ friends with your king as we speak.”

Bhiza chewed her lip some more and looked at the line. She sighed. “If you think that,” she muttered.

“I do think that.” And Applejack took a step into the line of nyumbu.

She moved mostly in the same direction as the nyumbu, but also a bit to one side, cutting across the line diagonally. With the nyumbu a bit smaller than her, she could move a bit faster than them, and minimize smacking them on the side with her cart. “‘Scuse me,” she muttered to the nyumbu. “Pardon me.” They wouldn’t understand her, obviously, but hopefully they would get the gist of the message. Some of them glared at her and said things in a lowing, braying language, but they never actually tried to stop her. It was going well enough, with Applejack slowly moving across the line and slipping through gaps, and then, in a ridiculously anticlimactic moment, she was on the other side.

It happened so suddenly Applejack blinked and looked around at the horizon in front of her. No nyumbu. She looked behind her. Lots of nyumbu. That was easy.

Bhiza ducked out of the line and semi-trotted up next to Applejack. She opened her mouth, closed it again. She looked at the ground and lightly kicked at a stone.

Applejack couldn’t help herself. She smirked. “Yyyyyyep.”

Bhiza rolled her eyes, then looked over her shoulder at the nyumbu. “We…” she said. “We should-”

Idube was pushed out of the herd, dragging her own cart and muttering something angry in Zebran. She looked up and, upon seeing Applejack and Bhiza, smiled slightly. “So you did make it.”

“See?” said Applejack. “What’d I tell ya?”

Idube rolled her eyes, then hollered out over the nyumbu, “Sisi ni nzuri! Kuja juu!” To Applejack, she said, “I decided you had a point, and enough was enough. Why the nyumbu cannot just…” She started muttering again and stepped aside to let the last cart through, swiftly followed by the remaining zebras. With no direction from Idube, the caravan started moving again, Idube still hitched up.

Instead of falling to the back like she normally did, Applejack sped up her pace a little to keep up with Idube. “Did y’all never even try movin’ across?” she asked. “It don’t seem like it’s a hard thin’ to try.”

“I never ran into the Great Migration before, and I am a wilderness travel guide, not a diplomat,” said Idube. “And the nyumbu… Have you heard about the quagga?”

“Sure.”

“I do not know whether or not the quagga did anything to earn their destruction, but… one species starving another to death will make you a touch nervous around the former, regardless of the situation.”

Applejack looked at the nyumbu. On the one hoof, it was hard to see how they could make Idube all that nervous. Nyumbu were small compared to zebras, even smaller than ponies, and looked rather scrawny. But on the other, she didn’t know their history and she wasn’t depending on them for her food. Hay, others were depending on her for their food. And if she suddenly decided to stop giving them food for some insult, yeah, it’d make others nervous around her. It wasn’t enough to fully convince Applejack that waiting hadn’t been stupid, but she could at least understand Idube’s apprehension.

“But we are across now,” continued Idube, “so we should put that behind us and keep moving.”

A sentiment Applejack wholeheartedly supported. She dug her hooves in and kept moving.

And so, they were on their way again. Applejack was enjoying the Serembarti much more than either the jungle or the mountains. It was hot, sure, but it was a lot calmer, easier to walk through, and if she was ever hungry, she could just stop, lean down, and take a few nibbles of grass. Bliss. She was beginning to feel the strain of pulling the cart, but since noon was past, she was sure she could keep going for the rest of the d-

“Are ponies all as full of color as you?”

Applejack twitched. It’d been so long since Bhiza had talked to her, the out-of-nowhere question was a surprise. “Uh, what?”

“You are orange,” Bhiza said. “Twilight was purple. Zebras are… not.” She grinned sheepishly and waved her black-and-white striped leg in front of Applejack. “What colors are ponies?”

“Oh, all sortsa colors,” responded Applejack, gesturing vaguely. “I’ve got a friend who’s got a coat of pure white, an-”

“Just white?” Bhiza shifted her pace a little closer to Applejack and stared curiously at her. “No stripes?”

“Nah. Ponies don’t really have stripes.”

“No stripes? None?”

“Nope. Mostly, our coats are just one color, although some have spots.”

Bhiza giggled. “Color one? I prefer stripes.”

“Well, I won’t deny they’re more interestin’,” Applejack admitted, “but, on the whole, ponies cover the whole gamut of colors.”

“Gamut?”

“Range.”

“Oh. So… ponies can be colors all?”

“Yep.”

“Blue?”

“A friend of mine’s blue.”

“Green?”

“My granny. Ehm, grandmother.”

“Red?” Bhiza’s voice was slowly dropping in disbelief.

“My brother.”

“Pink?”

“Another friend.”

“…Pink,” Bhiza said flatly. “Ponies can be… pink.”

“And black and yellow and brown and every other color y’all can think of,” Applejack said with a nod. “And every shade of every color, too.”

“That is… strange,” Bhiza mused. “But I want to see it. And your manes?” She batted lightly at Applejack’s ponytail.

“They come in just as much colors as our coats. Sometimes more, considerin’ they can be multicolored. One friend o’mine’s got a mane with all the colors of the rainbow. Literally.”

“Wow. Equestria sounds full very of color.” Bhiza pointed to Applejack’s cutie mark. “And what is that?”

“This?” Applejack tilted her rump towards Bhiza as best she could in the cart. “This here’s my cutie mark. It tells me what my special talent is and the kind of pony I’m supposed to be.”

“…What?” asked Bhiza flatly. “You… you are told what you will be… by… picture on your rump?”

“W-well, it’s a touch more complicated than that, but I guess so, yeah.”

Bhiza clapped a hoof to her muzzle in an attempt to stem the tide of laughter. It didn’t work. “You… hehehe… you… snrrk… picture on…” She tripped on a rock and just lay on the ground, giggling. Applejack stared at her for a few seconds, then kept walking on and flicked her tail. It wasn’t that silly.

When Bhiza caught up again, she was still giggling. “Picture on… hehe… on your rump tells you what life will be?”

“It’s called a cutie mark.”

“It is still picture on your rump.”

Applejack sighed. “And my cutie mark doesn’t tell me what kinda person I’ll be. It’s the other way around; the kind of person I am defines what my cutie mark will be.”

Bhiza’s laughter finally petered out. “Even when you are baby?”

“Ponies don’t have cutie marks when they’re born. We get them later, when we know what we’re gonna be doin’ in life.”

“What? When you know your life? What are you saying?”

“Ain’t y’all ever had one of those moments where it just, y’know, clicks? And you’re like, ‘This is what I’m doin’ for the rest of my life?’”

“Ooooh. That. Yes.” Bhiza looked over her shoulder and squinted at her own cutie markless rump, then quickly gave it a rub, as if that would cause a mark to appear. “And… cutie marks just… come? On their own?”

“Sure. Magic.” Applejack shrugged. “So don’t ask me how it works. I’m not even sure Twilight knows how it works, and if anypony would, it’s her.”

“I have not seen they,” Bhiza murmured, still looking at her rump. Then she twitched and whipped around to look at Applejack. “Your friend. Zecora. What does she have here?” She pointed at her rump.

“I…” Applejack frowned and scratched her head. “I ain’t really sure, to be honest. Never thought about it. Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “Cutie marks come from magic, but zebras ain’t supposed to have magic. Right?”

Bhiza nodded. “Right.”

“So… so maybe Zecora has magic in some way.”

“You do not know?”

“I don’t know her as well as I should. Ain’t never asked her about it. Y’all haven’t heard of any stories about magic zebras, have you?”

“Ehh…” Bhiza wiggled a hoof halfheartedly. “Some. Not many. I do not think of them much.”

“Hmm.” Applejack looked up the caravan, trying to see Zecora, but couldn’t see much. Not when she was one of the shortest people in the group. “I dunno. She might be magic. I like Zecora, but she’s strange. You heard her talkin’ in rhyme, right?”

“Yes. In Equestrian and Zebran. You do not know why she does that?”

“Not in the slightest.” Applejack snorted. “Y’know, it’s weird. We’re in the zebra homeland, so you’d think I’d be talkin’ with Zecora all this time, but it’s been just you and me for the last few days.”

“Your mistake,” Bhiza said. She grinned slightly. “You got on boat wrong.”

“And I ain’t sorry I got on it now, but… I guess I thought I’d be speakin’ with Zecora more. I hope she’s doin’ okay.”

“She is good. She knows Zebrabwe more good than you. Why worry?” Bhiza grinned.

“I dunno. Silliness, I guess.”

“Yes.” Bhiza looked at Applejack’s cutie mark again. “So that shows your… special talent?”

“Yep. Like, I’m good with apples, so…” Applejack pointed at her cutie mark and shrugged. “Apples.”

Bhiza frowned. “It feels… restricting?…”

Applejack nodded.

“It feels restricting to say you can only do apples, if-”

“Oh, no, it ain’t like that,” Applejack said, shaking her head. “Not at all. Your cutie mark’s just what you’re good at, it ain’t what you have to do. There’s one friend, her mark’s all about flyin’ real fast, but for the longest time, she was just a weatherpony. Got nothin’ to do with her mark, but she liked it and she was good at it. You define your mark, not the other way around.”

“Oh. That is good. And… pony every has one?”

“Sure.”

“Hmm.” Bhiza stared at Applejack’s cutie mark for a moment longer. “Equestria is strange very.”

“You bet your biscuits.”

Bhiza tilted her head and flicked an ear.

“It sure is.”

Bhiza chuckled.

They kept walking in a comfortable silence for a few moments, but, intrigued by Bhiza had seen her, Applejack caught herself examining the zebras’ coats. It might’ve just been her, but looked like each pattern of stripes was unique. Maybe zebras recognized each other that way? Although she didn’t know whether they were- “Bhiza?”

“Hmm?”

“Your questions about color gave me one of my own. Are zebras black with white stripes or white with black stripes?”

Bhiza smiled and opened her mouth, then froze. Her confidence changed to confusion and she stared at her leg, tilting her head back and forth. She stared at her other leg. She looked up at Applejack, then back down at her leg. “I… I do not know…” Her voice was distant, as if she’d been asked some deep, philosophical question.

Applejack let her think as they walked on. Bhiza kept staring at her legs like they held the answer to life, the universe, and everything.

16 - Bad Company

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Twilight wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. Kutengwa was an isolationist; she wasn’t going to initiate conversation with a foreigner. But they’d been sitting in silence for a solid three minutes, watching the (unusually small) orchestra warming up. Kutengwa had obviously been silent, but Twilight had been just as silent, even though the whole reason she’d entered the box was because she’d wanted to talk with Kutengwa. If they stayed like this, then Twilight might as well just move over to the next box, where she wouldn’t have to deal wi-

“Your Highness?”

Twilight twitched at Stormwalker’s voice. She’d been fidgeting, but Stormwalker was silent and still to a degree that could make statues envious. “Something wrong?”

“I was just thinking… you can make shields, right?”

“Yeah. Easy. Shields are simple.”

“How colorless can you make them?”

“Um…” Twilight tapped her forehead a few times. “It’d take some doing, but as long as we’re not moving, nearly invisible. Why?”

“Maybe you should put a shield around the balcony. Just in case someone tries to shoot you with something.”

Twilight looked out over the auditorium. There was a lot of empty space there, and a lot of places for a shooter to be hiding. Might not be a bad idea, for completeness’s sake. “Good thinking.” Twilight’s horn sparked, and a magenta haze appeared at the edge of the balcony, ceiling to floor and wall to wall, quickly lightening to near invisibility, except at the edges. Sound wasn’t muffled at all.

Kutengwa and her guard both jumped and stared at the shield. Without turning to look at Twilight, Kutengwa asked, “Did… did you do that?” She was fidgeting in place, like she didn’t know whether to move back in alarm or lean closer and get a better look.

“Yeah. It’s a magical shield,” said Twilight. “It’ll stop anything solid from passing through, but it’s safe to touch.” To demonstrate, she leaned forward and bopped the shield with a hoof. Magenta rings radiated from the point of impact, quickly fading away. “I just thought, since, y’know, someone’s out to kill me, I should probably- I can move it if yo-”

“No, it’s, you’re alright,” muttered Kutengwa. She reached out, paused, then lightly poked the shield. “Huh.” She planted both hooves on the shield and pushed as hard as she could. No result. “Huh huh.” She looked at Twilight with an emotion Twilight couldn’t quite place. Fear? Apprehension? Surprise? For a moment, it looked like she was going to say something, but then she silently dropped back onto her cushion. For his part, the guard was staring at the shield like it was going to eat him somehow.

Twilight sighed. This was going to be tricky. She knew she had to say something, but she didn’t know what. And just as she started thinking about it, the play started up.

Twilight hadn’t picked up a playbill, so she didn’t know what to expect. The whole thing was… a bit strange. It was a pretty standard drama about infidelity (with almost no props and minimalistic sets, for some reason), but the acting was hard for her to describe. The actual emotions and reactions were fine, but the lines felt a bit stilted and there were often pauses, as if one of the actors had forgotten their lines. The orchestra never played once or even reached for their instruments. It was alright, but it was nothing spectacular (in particular, the pacing seemed a bit rushed), and then the curtain fell on the first scene, the audience was applauding and it was over.

Twilight blinked and wished she had a clock. That was way too fast. It had only been, what, ten minutes? But none of the zebras in the audience looked like they wanted to get up. Twilight stole a glance at Stormwalker; she looked just as confused as Twilight felt. When she noticed Twilight’s look, she shrugged. “Is that really it?” she muttered.

“You don’t know what this is?”

Princess and guard both switched their attention to Kutengwa, who was somehow glaring at them with amusement. Her guard was still at attention, but obviously looking in their direction. “No,” Twilight admitted. “I wanted to get out, and I like plays, and a friend recommended this, so… no, I don’t really know what’s going on.”

Kutengwa snorted. It was hard to tell if it was amused or derisive. “Well, at least your friend has good taste,” she mumbled. More loudly, she said, “This is kuifaragiza. Improvised drama. The actors are given a basic outline beforehoof, but all their lines are improvised.”

“All of that was improvised?” gasped Twilight. That explained a lot. “That’s… that’s really impressive. I mean, wow. I was an actress once, and I had enough trouble with my lines already written. I can’t imagine having to come up with them on the spot.”

“You were an actress?” Kutengwa asked skeptically. “A princess?”

“It was before I was a princess.”

“You… weren’t born into it? You became a princess?”

“Yeah, see, I… The…” Twilight’s voice dropped a little. She rubbed the back of her neck and looked away for a few seconds. “Equestria’s royalty system is kinda hard to explain.”

Kutengwa didn’t look that convinced, but dropped the matter. “Kuifaragiza is a long-standing zebran tradition. The actors go through the story several times, acting in a different style each time. The next one- Actually, here.” She pulled a playbill from out of her robe and slid it across the floor to Twilight.

Levitating the playbill in front of her, Twilight was reminded, not for the first time or the second time or even the seventeenth time that audio-only translation was severely limited. To read Zebran, she not only had to know which letters were which, but also how Zebran words were formed (in other words, how to speak Zebran). In a world full of the written word, having sounds translated could only get you so far. Twilight promptly resolved to redouble her efforts to learn all of Zebran’s orthography, lexicon, and grammar.

Still, she knew enough to get the gist from the pamphlet and identify the next style as (probably) comedy. A lot of the following words were unfamiliar to her, but she guessed one of them was a musical, somehow. She ran her hoof down the styles, counting them. Seven. And if each one lasted about ten minutes, while also adding in some between-style minutes for set changes or whatever they needed, yeah, that would add up to about an hour and a half, like Livingstone had said.

“Thanks,” said Twilight. She flicked the playbill back to Kutengwa, but it occurred to her that, given the way she’d acted last night, Kutengwa was being very friendly. It wasn’t much, but it was a far cry from the icy silence or passive-aggressive snipes Twilight had been expecting. She wondered why, but there was no way she could broach the subject in conversation without looking insensitive. Still, it was something, and Twilight decided she could live with it if Kutengwa was going to act tolerably.

“Sure, I-” But Kutengwa cut herself off and started staring at Twilight with a frown.

“What?”

“You’re thinking about how my attitude towards you now is clashing with my attitude towards you last night. I can see it on your face.”

Well, if she’d guessed that it quickly, there was really no use in denying it. “Yeah, kinda.” Behind Twilight, Stormwalker stiffened slightly.

Kutengwa blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Because now, we’re just watching a play and we’re in close contact with each other. Just because I don’t want you here doesn’t mean I get to be a jerk about it. Especially if we’re going to be boxmates for the next hour.” She grinned mirthlessly.

But, Twilight noted to herself, that hadn’t stopped her from being rude last night. Also, she hadn’t actually apologized for anything yet, and it didn’t feel like she was going to. (Also also, stupid politicking.)

“Glad to see you’re doing okay, by the way. Hate to have a death in the court.”

That threw Twilight for a little bit of a loop. Kutengwa might’ve been lying, but it seemed a bit too spontaneous for that. She hated foreigners, so why was she glad about Twilight surviving? Genuine care? Pure pragmatism? Something else completely? Of course, that was a very personal question, so there was no way for Twilight to actually ask that without seeming incredibly rude, a-

“You’re thinking about why I, an isolationist, wouldn’t want you, a foreigner, dead, right?”

“You’re perceptive.”

Kutengwa shrugged. “It’s a gift.”

“So…” Twilight coughed. “Now that that’s out of the way, why not?” It still felt way too personal a question for her to be asking, but Kutengwa had started it. By rights, it shouldn’t bug her. But it did, if only a little.

Kutengwa sighed and rubbed her head. “Look. I won’t deny I don’t want you here. But think about it. If you were to die, what would happen?”

“Equestria would probably send somepony over to figure out exactly what had happened.”

“Right. So you as a people aren’t gone. If anything, it’s worse, with your country intruding on mine and going more privately than you already are. By necessity, too. Besides, you’re still a person. Just not a person I want on my land.” Kutengwa glared at the stage. “I want you gone. I don’t want you dead. I don’t want anyone dead.” She paused. “Well, okay, not quite anyone. But those I do want dead, I want dead for better reasons than ‘they’re not zebras’.”

Not something Twilight wanted (or had the right) to ask about, so she didn’t. As for the rest, she didn’t quite know how to react to it. Kutengwa was being crazy pragmatic about everything; it was almost like a pony going on an anti-griffon screed, then having one over for tea. But then, from the sounds of things, Kutengwa’s beef with Twilight had nothing to do with her not being a zebra, and everything to do with her not being from Zebrabwe. The two of them could talk perfectly politely, but Kutengwa would always be asking, “So when’re you leaving?” Of course, there was always the possibility that she was faking it, but if she was telling the truth, that would imply she had nothing to do with the poisoning. Hmm.

As Twilight was wrapped up in her thoughts, the curtain rose on the next style. For the first thirty seconds, nothing changed. The lines, being improvised, were a bit different, and some of the character interactions had been altered slightly, but on the whole, it was the same as before.

Then one of the actors burst through the scenery (literally) and, with much scenery-chewing, loudly proclaimed she was the lead male’s daughter from the future.

It only got more bizarre from there, both in time-travel-related ways and not. There was something about a criminal syndicate smuggling pies, a long-lost heir to the throne, and time paradoxes ending the world, all without any props or set changes. In contrast to the dramatic style, the dialogue was fast-paced and superbly witty. Twilight was giggling at the insanity of it all, and applauded loudly when the curtain fell.

As she waited for the crew to set up for the next style, Twilight looked sidelong at Kutengwa, seeing if she’d started up conversation again. But Kutengwa stayed focused on the stage, probably thinking about something. And she’d started the conversation last time, so now it was Twilight’s turn. As it happened, she had just the topic.

Twilight cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you an isolationist?”

Kutengwa smirked humorlessly without looking at Twilight. “Direct, aren’t you?”

“You started it.”

The smirk became a touch more genuine. “I did, didn’t I?” She chuckled, but then the smile vanished. “Zebrabwe looking after Zebrabwe and only Zebrabwe keeps things simple. No little countries asking for favors from us and diverting our time and energy.”

Twilight picked her next words to try and avoid any apparent ego-stroking. “Equestria moves the sun. We probably wouldn’t need Zebrabwe’s help.” Even so, she cringed a little.

At least Kutengwa didn’t seem too offended by that. “And when you decide you want something of ours, we can’t stop you.” Before Twilight could protest, Kutengwa put up a hoof to quiet her. “Yes, you said you can’t use the sun against us. But if your princess decides to just leave it be for a few hours and instead direct that power at us, the world will be fine for those few hours.”

“Equestria would never do that!”

“Of course you’d say that. It might even be true. Now.” Kutengwa looked at Twilight. “But what about decades down the line? Centuries? That can all change, given time.”

“Celestia’s immortal. Or at least ageless.” Honestly, Twilight had never been clear on whether Celestia couldn’t die at all, or simply didn’t age. “She’s a bit resistant to change. Besides, we still know you’re here, whether or not you have an alliance with us.”

“Willful ignorance can work wonders, Princess,” Kutengwa said, waving a hoof at Twilight. “If I hadn’t started talking to you, you wouldn’t be talking to me, and we’re not even ten feet apart. If Zebrabwe doesn’t associate with Equestria, Equestria won’t associate with Zebrabwe. Five thousand miles of ocean is a lot of space to cover.”

And she actually had a small point there, Twilight had to admit. Griffonstone was right next door to Equestria, internationally speaking, and Bygone Griffons of Greatness, her most recent source, had been completely off and woefully outdated simply because the two countries had never paid much attention to each other. But on the other hoof, Twilight and her entourage had come across the ocean just because. Equestria wouldn’t — couldn’t — ignore Zebrabwe now.

Besides, “Technology is advancing quickly,” Twilight responded. “There was a time when fifty miles was a lot of ground to cover. Then it was five hundred, and now it’s five thousand. It won’t be long before it’s fifty thousand.”

Kutengwa looked sullen, but slowly nodded. When she continued, though, she didn’t keep following that line of thought. “And if you do want something from us, you might try to get it yourself, and you don’t know Zebrabwe all that well, so you’d need us to get it for you, or screw it all up if you did it yourselves. It’s like…” She tapped her forehead a few times. “You saw the representatives from Imayini Yamalahle, right?”

“The abadas? Yeah.”

“Right. The abadas. Except for Okubi, but…” Kutengwa shrugged. “Point is, Imayini is not based in Zebrabwe. And just a few years ago, its abada executive, I can’t remember her name, tried for some mine way out west based on a gut feeling, and came up with nothing.” She eyed Twilight seriously. “That’s not an exaggeration. The entire mine was a bust. And the operation was so big, it nearly bankrupted the company.”

“Really?” That would explain why Mhate was so stressed about the meeting. It was literally the company on the line. And it seemed kind of disingenuous for Mtendaji to not mention her little screwup. “That’s gotta be disappointing.”

“To put it mildly. You’ve probably heard that they’re going for another mine near Kulikulu, and I almost didn’t let them do it, because of the failure of the last one. Didn’t really have a lot of trust in them anymore.”

The gears in Twilight’s mind skipped a few teeth. Last night, that hadn’t been what Mtendaji said. She’d said Kutengwa had opposed them on isolationist grounds, but if Kutengwa was telling the truth, that wasn’t anywhere the case. And Mtendaji could hardly be mistaken about that, right? It was the sort of thing Kutengwa would bring up in talks. Why should we give you land to work with? You gave us ABSOLUTELY NOTHING the last time we did that! But why would Mtendaji lie?

“But then Okubi showed me some actual geological reports,” continued Kutengwa, unaware, “and it looked promising and was backed by hard science, so I let it happen.”

“You didn’t oppose them because they’re not a Zebrabwean company?” Twilight asked, her voice a little low. She needed to be certain. She needed to be completely certain that she wasn’t following the wrong path here.

“No,” Kutengwa snorted. “Granted, I don’t like having them here because they’re foreigners, but they’re in too deep for me to dig them out. Trying to get them out of here on those grounds won’t get me anywhere, so I might as well support them when they do get us what we want. And, well…” She shrugged. “They get us a lot of coal. We use a lot of electricity, we need a lot of coal.”

Mtendaji had lied. That was the best explanation for Twilight. And even then, it wasn’t all that good an explanation. Why? She didn’t know Twilight at all when she’d done that. And if that had been a lie, what about the rest of her behavior? Was that all fake, too? Was-

Twilight shook her head. She’d think about that later; right now, she should just enjoy the play.

The curtain rose on the play, and three things happened, not quite simultaneously.

Stormwalker grabbed Twilight’s mane in her mouth and yanked her head to one side. It was fast enough that Twilight barely even registered what had happened when she found herself hanging over the side of the chair.

Twilight’s shield vanished. It didn’t break, it didn’t shatter, it wasn’t overpowered, it just slipped away and was gone like water down a drain.

Something long and straight sailed across the box and nicked Twilight’s cheek enough to draw blood. Had Stormwalker not pulled her aside, it would’ve been a clean headshot.

“We’re leaving,” Stormwalker hissed. “Now.”

And for once, Twilight absolutely agreed with her. She rolled out of the chair and stayed low, below the railing; she couldn’t let the shooter get another clear shot. Her body was buzzing with shock. Kutengwa was already getting hustled out by her own guards.

“Did you see anything?” Twilight whispered as she crawled towards the exit.

“Just the arrow,” Stormwalker responded. She was at the railing, poking her head above it for less than a second at a time and moving around. “Not where it came from and not who shot it.” Still staying low, she darted over to the other side of the box, yanked the arrow out from where it’d gotten stuck in the wall, and tucked it beneath a wing. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

Askari, having seen Kutengwa escorted out, was jumping from hoof to hoof in anxiety, but staying put. Before she could say anything, Stormwalker said, “Someone almost shot Princess Twilight. She’s okay, but we need to get her out of here ASAP.”

Askari nodded. “Kueleweka. Mpango A?”

“Plan A,” said Stormwalker.

“Wait a minute,” said Twilight. Askari had been talking in Zebran, but Stormwalker had apparently still understood her. Had something gone wrong with her translation spell? “Askari, can you say that again?”

Askari looked at Twilight in confusion. “Uh, nini? Je, unaweza kusema kwamba tena?”

Something was wrong with the translation spell. That much was obvious. But how? Was there something in the arrow?

Twilight’s thoughts were interrupted by Stormwalker. “Your Highness, we need to get you out of here now. Can you teleport you and me back to the embassy? Askari will find the others.”

“Uh, yeah,” said Twilight, still distracted by the translation issues. “I can do that.” Her horn started glowing as she pulled magic into herself. But then a spark, almost like a shock from static electricity, ran down her horn and her magic dispersed into the air before she could do anything.

Not good. Twilight tried again. Same result. She tried a different form of magic, and the same thing happened.

“Or… maybe not,” she muttered. “I can’t use magic.”

Stormwalker blanched. “None? At all?”

“Well, I don’t-” Idea. Twilight quickly flapped a few times, trying to take to the air. No luck; somehow, she felt much heavier than normal, and her wings just blew the air around. “No. No magic at all.”

Twilight’s words were level enough, but they were concealing her thoughts: this was really, really bad. She didn’t know if the effect was permanent or not, whether it was just her magic that was affected or if there was some biological effect as well, or anything else. That wasn’t even getting into her attempted killers still being out there. How did they know she’d be here? What if they were still here and tried to catch her on the way out? What if there was another group trying to go after Spike and Livingstone? Wh-

Calm down, she told herself. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Count to four, inhale. Count to four, exhale. She breathed in. She breathed out. She breathed in. She breathed out. Her nerves calmed. Slightly.

“Um, okay, that’s not good,” muttered Stormwalker.

“Unasema nini?” asked Askari. She looked back and forth between Twilight and Stormwalker as she flicked her tail back and forth. “Ni nini kinaendelea? Sielewi wewe.”

“Long story short, plan D,” said Stormwalker. “I’ll explain later.”

“Mpango D?” gasped Askari. She snorted. “Kubwa.” She clicked her tongue and set off down the hall at a brisk trot. Twilight followed her, and Stormwalker took up the rear.

As they trotted, Twilight tried to focus on the tingling in her body. It felt concentrated in her horn, wings, and hooves; probably a side effect of whatever was blocking her magic. She tried to use magic one more time, but this time, she paid attention to what exactly was happening to it. It didn’t feel like it was being blocked; it felt more like it was simply being redirected before she could shape it. She poked her horn. The tingling briefly increased a tiny bit, in both her horn and her hoof. She might be able to figure out what was going on if she had magic, but, well.

Her train of thought suddenly jumped to another track. “Spike,” she said to Askari. “If they’re trying to get to me, they’re probably going after Spike and Livingstone, too.”

“Sizungumzi… Sizungumzi Kipony!” snapped Askari. “Sielewi wewe!”

Luckily, Stormwalker had heard her. “We know. We’re going to find them. That was in the plan from the beginning. And they stand out in a crowd, we’ll find them easily.”

“Okay, good.” Twilight’s voice was calm, but her heart was racing, and not from the trotting.

They made it to the lobby with no resistance. It was empty, but now that she was thinking about Spike, it did little to calm her nerves. Please be safe, Spike. Please be safe.

Cumulus looked over his shoulder again. “Same distance. They’re gathering a little, so they might be trying something soon, but Mtetezi’s right behind them. Keep moving this way.”

Spike and Livingstone had gone to a comics stand without incident. After Spike had picked up a certain few issues with a very angular art style and a good writer (according to Livingstone, anyway; “You would not believe the plots she can create!”), Cumulus had started subtly herding them towards one of the exits to the marketplace, just in case. The initial shock gone and no moves yet made, Spike was feeling a touch better about the situation — he was a dragon, after all — but the idea that someone would try to kill him was gnawing at him.

But he was still out in a marketplace, surrounded by things to buy. He’d make the most of it. Good thing, too, because he spotted- “Hey. Livingstone. Is that a jeweler’s cart?”

“I…” Livingstone squinted through the crowd and smiled. “I think it is, yes. Do you want to visit it?”

“Sure. I appreciate gems.”

“You eat them.”

“Like I said. I appreciate them.”

Livingstone laughed. “Close enough. Come.” She took a step forward, but then stopped and took a look at Cumulus. “That is… if-”

“You don’t need my permission,” said Cumulus. “We’re-” He stood a few inches taller and angled one of his ears backward. After a moment, he nodded. “We’re doing fine.”

Spike and Livingstone looked at each other. Spike shrugged. “Well, then, let’s go.”

The zebra behind the cart was one of the “I’ll ignore anything if you have money” ones. She didn’t bat an eye at Spike or either pony. Instead, she grinned enough to split her face in half and said in a big voice, “Hello, hello, little lizard and stripeless zebra, and welcome to Johari’s Gem Emporium! How-”

“I’m a dragon and she’s a pony,” said Spike, pointing at Livingstone. “So’s he, for that matter-” He pointed over his shoulder at Cumulus. “-but he’s not buying.”

The shopkeeper — Johari — didn’t miss a beat. “Apologies, sir and ma’am, but we don’t see much of your kind around here. Anyway…” She clapped her front hooves together and rubbed them. “What can I do you for? Looking for anything in particular? Earrings? Leg rings? Unset jewels? Necklaces? Med-”

“I was actually looking at the gems.”

“Splendid, splendid!” Johari set a display case on the counter, showing gems of all sizes and styles. Sweeping a hoof across them, she said, “And this, my good dragon, is but a sample. If you are looking for something more specific, just say the word.”

But Spike was speechless for the moment. The collection wasn’t the biggest he’d seen, but for its size, the variety was staggering. There were tiny amethysts and opals, spinels the size of his fist, moonstones several claw-widths across, and many more. He was entranced by the sparkles for several moments before an odd khaki gem maybe a few inches tall caught his eye. He’d never seen anything like it in Equestria before. “What kind of gem’s that?”

“Hibonite!” said Johari. “Very rare. Only comes from the island of Madagasikitro in the Western Ocean.” She smiled. “But I know the right people, and my supply’s better than most. I can offer you that for the low, low price of two hundred lijamu!”

Spike knew enough to know that he was expected to haggle it down, but he didn’t know the actual price of hibonite, nor how much lijamu were worth compared to bits. The idea of trying an all-new kind of gem, though…

Luckily, Livingstone was nearby to save his haycon. “One hundred lijamu,” she countered. To Spike, she whispered, “But she’s truthful about everything but the price, yes. Hibonite is quite rare.”

Johari acted as if she’d been slapped. “Oh! I am giving you an excellent deal already, I cannot go that low! One seventy-five.”

“One seventy-five?!” bellowed Livingstone. “My mother’s entire collection wasn’t worth one seventy-five, no. One twenty-five.”

“One fifty,” responded Johari. She might’ve looked despondent if she hadn’t kept up her grin. “I can’t go any lower, not wi-”

“One fifty,” said Livingstone.

“One fifty it is!” Johari said happily. She popped the hibonite out of the case and slid it towards Spike.

As Livingstone paid with the credit token, Spike examined the hibonite. It might’ve been brown, but it was a very pretty brown, surprisingly lustrous. He bit of a corner. It was tangy and sweet, almost fruity, with an oh-so-slightly bitter aftertaste. He liked it, and quickly bit off a larger chunk. The aftertaste was a bit stronger, but not overwhelming. He’d polished it off in seconds.

He realized Livingstone and Johari were both looking at him. Livingstone was halfway between petrified and amused, while Johari had completely frozen, her smile etched onto her face with a chisel and one (just one) of her pupils shrunk to a pinprick. But, ever the professional, Johari quickly started up again. “Well, that’s new!” she said with a laugh. “And if you prefer quantity over quality, I have…” She ducked beneath the counter and popped up with a small sack between her teeth. “…viff!” She dropped it on the counter in front of Spike.

Spike opened up the sack and whistled. The gems inside weren’t the greatest, but the variety was just as good as Johari’s showcase. They were small, maybe the size of his claw, but there were enough of them for a good-sized snack. Several, in fact. It was tempting. Oh, so tempting.

“I keep those for apprentices,” continued Johari. “They’re low-quality, but it’s easier to learn to set with a bad gem than a perfect one; you lose less if you screw up. Even better, because they’re low-quality, they’re much cheaper, so you have plenty of opportunities to try setting them. Or, in your case, have a quick snack, I suppose.” She smiled. “Twenty lijamu. For the whole sack.”

Livingstone looked at Spike, who frowned. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “They look nice, but it’s taste that matters. And, yes, how good of a gem it is does change how it tastes.”

Johari almost frowned. “You know what? I’ve got plenty. Take a few for a free sample, then see if you like them.”

Free food. Perfect. One of the things Spike had learned that hadn’t come from Twilight was that you never, ever, ever turn down free food. He picked a few gems out of the sack at random and munched them down. Quite delicious, given how many of them there were. The best he’d ever had? No. Not even close. But they were good, they were many, and they were small enough to snack on. “I’ll take it.”

“Splendid! Pleasure doing business with you.”

After they’d paid Johari and left the stand behind, Livingstone looked down at Spike. “So… what do gems taste like? Fruit? Something else?”

Spike wiggled a claw and popped a ruby into his mouth. “Kinda, not really,” he said between chews. “It’s hard to describe, bu-”

Cumulus dive-tackled him away a second before a morning star slammed into the ground where he’d been standing hard enough to break the cobblestones.

The two bounced across the ground in a tangle, knocking over several zebras, Spike’s gems flying everywhere, before the sheer density of the crowd stopped them. A sudden hush fell over the crowd. “SorrybutIdidn’tseehimcoming!” yelled Cumulus. He extricated himself from around Spike and jumped away.

Spike blinked, tried to orient himself. The scene seemed frozen in time. He saw a zebra, dressed all in black complete with a face-concealing hood, bringing up a morning star attached to one of his front hooves by a chain. The crowd was shying away from the scene, some already running and yelling. Cumulus was launching himself at the zebra, wings swept back. Livingstone was paused mid-stride, shock scribed all across her face.

The scene unfroze.

Cumulus hit the zebra before the morning star hit him. As they tumbled away, another assassin broke out of the crowd and charged Spike, only to be brought up short as Mtetezi leapt out of the crowd and bit down on his tail. Spike only managed to get brief glimpses of their respective brawls, but between Cumulus delivering a wing-powered suplex to his opponent and Mtetezi elbow-dropping hers right in the stomach, it looked like they had things under control.

And just as his bodyguards were at their most occupied, another assassin exited the crowd. Twirling her own morning star, her gaze snapped to Spike and she charged.

This is just not my day.

Spike doubted the morning star could actually kill him, but he didn’t want to find out, and even if it couldn’t, getting smashed on the head would still hurt like nothing else. He knew that from experience. Instinct told him to run, but he stayed where he was, trying to look like he was paralyzed with fear and not thinking. Granted, it wasn’t completely an act. But ninety-five percent thinking was still plenty of thinking.

The assassin swung her morning star. Right when it was at the top of the swing, Spike jumped back. The flail slammed into the ground inches from his face. Before the zebra could pull it out, Spike scrambled around to the chain and chomped down. His jaws, literally used to eating gems for dinner, only needed a single bite to sever the connection between morning star and wielder.

The zebra yanked back and twirled her broken length of chain menacingly before she realized she was twirling a broken length of chain instead of a vicious spiked flail, which was considerably less menacing. She turned to stare at the end of the chain in astonishment.

Spike seized on the opportunity and hacked a small fireball in her direction. Nothing fatal or all that harmful; just something to make her back off for a few seconds. The fireball poofed at the zebra’s hooves; she yelped and recoiled, batting at the air. But when the smoke cleared, the assassin’s outfit wasn’t even singed.

Practically speaking, making something fully dragonfireproof was impossible. It was just too hot. But while Spike’s little puff hadn’t been anywhere near his full capacity, it should’ve ignited a few spots on the zebra’s clothes. But the outfit was untouched. The clothes were fire-resistant.

They knew he could breathe fire.

But before Spike could process this fact, the zebra regained her footing. She looked like she was going to try to charge him, but before she could, she was jumped from behind by another zebra. Not Mtetezi; this one had a uniform of some kind. A cop.

As the cop wrestled the would-be assassin to the ground, several more cops scrambled out of the crowd. Spike breathed a sigh of relief when most of them went to assist Cumulus and Mtetezi, only to suck it back in when the remainder of them started pointing spears at him and Livingstone (who was still paused mid-stride). He shuffled between Livingstone and the spears and promptly put his claws in the air. Thick scales or not, a spear inches from your snout was not a pleasant thing to be looking down. “Um, hey,” he said in a high-pitched voice, “look, I-”

Then Mtetezi had batted the spears aside and was between him and the cops, waving her hooves. “Whoa, whoa, hey! They’re with me! They’re with me!” she yelled. “They’re ambassadors! I’m GRBS!” She ducked her head into a pocket and pulled out a small badge. Spike couldn’t see it, but it made quite the impression on the cops; all of them took a small step back, and at least they stopped pointing weapons at Spike and the ponies.

The one who looked to be leading them quickly examined the badge, then coughed. “Apologies, sirs and ma’ams.” She looked at Spike again and muttered to herself, “Right, how could I miss…?” She coughed again and shook her head. A hint of urgency had crept into her voice when she spoke again. “Ma’am, you should get them out of here. My zebras can take things from here.”

“Good,” said Mtetezi. She turned to Spike. “We’re going to the theatre and getting your princess. Now.”

“I second the motion,” said Livingstone. “Come on.” Before Spike could respond, she’d deposited him on her back and was racing out of the marketplace. Cumulus and Mtetezi quickly followed.

Spike’s mind was still reeling as he clung to Livingstone’s mane. He and Livingstone were fine, yes, but they’d just been attacked in broad daylight in the middle of a public space. It was a lot to take in. What if those hadn’t been the only assassins around? What if another group tried to attack them? What if they tried going after Twilight? But he couldn’t do anything about it.

At the moment, all he could do was hope Twilight was okay and hold tight.

Twilight bolted out of the theatre and onto the street. “Spike!” she yelled. “Spi-”

Right on cue, Livingstone slid around a corner, Spike on her back, Cumulus and Mtetezi close behind. She stopped in front of Twilight, breathing heavily. “We…” she gasped. “We were…”

“Someone just tried to kill me!” Twilight and Spike said in unison.

They blinked. “You?” Spike and Twilight gasped. “Someone just tried to kill me!”

Their jaws dropped. “You, too?” Twilight and Spike said. “Oh, this is bad… This is so, so bad…”

They both caught their breath for a few moments. Then Spike began yelling. “Livingstone and I were going to get some co-”

“Talk later!” snapped Stormwalker. “We’re getting back to the palace now.” She checked under one wing to be sure she still had the arrow. “Come on. Askari and I will take point. Cumulus, Mtetezi, you two take the rear.” She set off down the street at a brisk trot.

As the rest of the group followed, Twilight asked, “Are you both okay?”

“Yes,” panted Livingstone. “They… they came-”

“Tell me later. Right now, the only thing that’s important to me is that you’re both fine.”

“We’re fine,” said Spike.

“Good.”

Back in the embassy, Askari turned the bolt over on the table. «I’m no detective,» she said, «but my inexperienced self is thinking this is for a pretty high-powered crossbow. Tripod-mounted. Look.» She pointed. «Metal shaft. I think it’d need that to withstand higher bow speeds. But don’t quote me on that.»

Or at least, that was how Cumulus translated it. Twilight’s magic still hadn’t completely come back. She was able to gather more magic than she had before, but only enough to cast a few sparks or levitate a quill. She’d probably be back to normal the next day, but at the moment, she couldn’t re-cast the translation spell on herself. The spells on everyone else were still working fine, though, so Cumulus had volunteered to be a relay for Twilight. (It was really weird hearing him “translate” simply by repeating Twilight’s words.) This conversation was too complex for Twilight’s limited Zebran.

«Of course, bows aren’t used much anymore, not with cartridges making arquebuses easier to use,» muttered Askari, almost to herself, «but crossbows are silent, and a good bow can still shoot through ordinary glass with enough force to kill on the other side.»

“But what about my magic?” asked Twilight. She was sitting on a chair, waiting as Livingstone gave her an amateur, impromptu medical checkup, just in case the bolt had some biological effects, too. She hadn’t said anything, so Twilight assumed her physicality was okay, especially since her cut, small as it was, had stopped bleeding before they’d reached the palace. “What happened with that?” It was mind-bogglingly annoying to not know something like this with magic. Even worse, by the time her magic was back so she could study it better, the effect would be gone.

Askari looked miffed. «Your Highness,» she said, «I have no idea how magic works. I’ve never met an abada in anything other than a professional context, never seen them do anything. My first experience with magic was your translation spell-» (It was actually Uvivi’s, Twilight thought.) «-and I didn’t know that was magic until it wasn’t working anymore.»

“What about the whosits, the abadas?” asked Spike. He was lying on a couch, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought but still listening intently. “They’ve got magic. Wouldn’t they have something like this?”

“Maybe, but I don’t think Uvivi would like this sort of thing, no,” muttered Livingstone. She stroked one of Twilight’s wings, looking for either discoloration of some kind or some inexplicable molting. “She’d-”

«Uvivi isn’t the only abada here,» said Askari. «There are plenty of others, not even necessarily from Imayini.» She looked down at the bolt and frowned. «But the involvement of abadas would explain a lot. We zebras might have some kind of venom that could go on the arrowhead to counter abada magic, but a simple enchantment on the bolt could do the same thing, and probably with less work.» She clicked her tongue a few times. «I’m going to hand this over to the detectives investigating your poisoning, if that’s okay with you.»

“I was just going to say the same thing,” Twilight said. “They might not be related, but you’d have to work pretty hard to get me to believe they weren’t.”

«Good. I’ll be back soon.» Askari bowed infinitesimally and left the embassy, arrow in mouth.

As she exited the embassy, Stormwalker entered. She and Mtetezi had been standing guard at the entrance. “Your Highness,” she said, “Mtetezi and I have been talking, and it’s probably best if we-”

“Do it,” muttered Twilight. She rubbed the scab on her cheek. “I don’t care what it is, do it.” The two of them would know best. They were her bodyguards for a reason, after all.

Stormwalker blinked, then bowed slightly. “Very well. We’ll have one guard up at all hours tonight to keep you, Spike, and Livingstone safe.” She left to rejoin Mtetezi.

Livingstone rubbed Twilight’s ribs. Twilight sucked in a breath and recoiled slightly in surprise. “Sorry, sorry,” said Livingstone, jumping back. “I just wanted to see if, if they were still in place or… or something. I don’t know.” She rubbed her neck, blushed, and looked away.

“They all feel normal, if that’s what you’re looking for,” said Twilight. Still, she couldn’t help herself running a hoof along her ribcage. It felt fine. “I think the arrow only affected my magic.” She had to stop herself from testing her limits again; she’d only last done it a few minutes ago, and there probably wouldn’t be much change.

Spike pushed himself up into a sitting position. “So how come you can’t fly now? If your magic was the only thing it hurt, then shouldn’t-”

“Pegasi use their own form of magic to fly, Spike,” sighed Twilight. “Look at these wings.” She spread one of them. It still tingled, but the tingling was a lot less than it had been. “They’re way too small compared to me. You really think I can fly with just them?”

“Kinda…” Spike mumbled.

Twilight didn’t notice and folded her wing back up. “I think it was more an unintentional side effect than anything else. They were going after unicorn magic and just happened to get pegasus magic, too.” She looked down at her still tingling hooves and kneaded the carpet beneath them. “And probably earth pony magic, too, but I haven’t checked that yet. That’s why the translation spell isn’t working, either: its magic got disrupted somehow.”

“But you still feel okay, right?”

“Physically, yeah.” Twilight kept thinking as she stared at her hooves. After two attempts on her life in two days… “Livingstone, you’re sure Applejack and Zecora will be here by tomorrow evening?”

“They ought to be, yes,” said Livingstone. “If not then, early the next morning. Why?”

“I’m scared for them.” Twilight started pacing, her eyes still on the ground. “I don’t know where they are, I don’t know what state they’re in, I don’t know anything. Honestly, if those plains we crossed weren’t so big, I’d probably go out there and look for them myself, just to be sure.”

“…If it, um, if it makes you feel any better,” said Livingstone, “I can tell you where they’ll be tomorrow. Whenever she comes to Kulikulu, Idube always stops at the same bar before coming into the city proper.”

Twilight stopped pacing. Her ears went up and she raised her head. “Really?” The shades of a smile were on her face.

“Yes. I think a distant relative of hers owns it.” Livingstone chewed her lip and batted at an ear. “It’s close to the borders of Kulikulu, so on the opposite side of the city, but you can fly, you ought to be safe. The, uh, the Bonde Baa. I can show you where it is on a map if you want, yes.”

“Thanks, but not right now. Tomorrow, maybe.” The weight on Twilight’s heart subsided a little. Even if she couldn’t help Applejack at all, she could at least see her slightly earlier.

“You really think they’re in trouble?” Spike asked. “I mean, Applejack can take down chimeras on her own.”

“I don’t know, Spike. That’s the thing.” Twilight went back to pacing. “She can definitely handle herself, but that’s back in Equestria, and this isn’t Equestria, it’s Zebrabwe, so maybe there’s something out there she can’t handle, and that’s not getting into the fact that the people trying to kill me might be trying to get to her too, and she and the other zebras are in some kind of danger they’re not prepared for, an-”

“Slow down, Twi. Deep breaths.”

Twilight dug her hooves into the carpeting and stopped pacing. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. “Sorry, it’s just… yeah,” she said. “We never should’ve split up. That was such a huge mistake that I don’t even know.”

“Heh. Sorry,” whispered Livingstone.

“And now… I don’t know what to do.” Twilight looked up at the ceiling. It was right before she went out into town all over again, only now, she knew that her would-be assassins were actively looking for her. To avoid them, she’d be stuck in the embassy even more. Blah. She was not looking forward to tomorrow. At least today, she’d gotten through half the day sleeping.

There was something she needed to get done, though. “Let’s get back to the Zebran alphabet.”

“Can I join you? I think I can focus more, now that I’ve got this.” Spike waved the zebran comic he’d picked up. “The art’s good, and I wanna read it.”

Twilight smiled. “Sure, Spike. Sure.”

17 - Tell Me a Story

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The sun was almost down when Bhiza finally said, “Black with stripes white. Look.” She held her foreleg in front of Applejack’s face and, with her other hoof, awkwardly pushed back on the hairs. “Skin below? Black. Zebras are black with stripes white.” Indeed, although it was partly obscured by her hair, Bhiza’s skin below was black, even under the white stripes. Bhiza looked very pleased with herself.

“Huh,” said Applejack. She squinted at Bhiza’s skin. “Interestin’.”

After a hard day’s walk, Applejack was definitely feeling the strain of the cart in each and every one of her joints and muscles and bones and other places she didn’t know the names of. But it was a good strain, the kind that could only come through good, solid work. She was still sweating like mad, but with the sun setting, it was cooling off quickly. Applejack wasn’t about to roll over and faint anytime soon, but she’d definitely be glad once she was able to relax in her tent.

“I do not know why I did not think of it before,” said Bhiza, still looking at her legs. “It is… strange.”

“Yeah,” said Applejack. “Guess it’s one of those things you don’t think of ‘till somebody points it out, right?”

“Yes.”

Applejack snorted and looked around at the Serembarti. Still looked beautiful. The nyumbu were nowhere to be seen. In fact, the whole place was so big that, even with its flatness, the only other people and animals they saw tended to be far off in the distance, rarely little more than specks. As Applejack looked, off in the distance, she picked out a large cluster of zebras — two dozen at least, she guessed — setting up their own tents for the night. Big tents. Big enough for five or six zebras each with room to spare, a far cry from the one-zebra tents of her own group.

Bhiza noticed her watching. “Those are Wokhala Zigwa,” she said, pointing them out. “They are group that are…” She scratched her head. “I do not know word. Kuhamahama. They do not have home… pernament.”

“Permanent.”

“Yes. They do not have home permanent.”

“So they’re nomads?”

“I think. They move around Serembarti and look after land. If our food is not growed-”

“Grown.”

“-by nyumbu, it is probably-” Bhiza poked a hoof at the Wokhala. “-growed — grown — by they. They have history long very. Before zebras lived in cities, we all were Wokhala Zigwa.”

“Huh.” Applejack squinted the Wokhala, trying to make out more details. Based on what little she could see, they didn’t look that different from regular zebras. “Y’think they coulda helped us with the nyumbu?”

Bhiza shrugged. “I do not know. We did not speak with they when I was one.”

“You were one of those Wokhalas?”

“When I was more young. I did not like travel always and left when I became adult. You can enter and leave group as you want.”

“But…” Applejack looked back and forth between Bhiza and the Wokhala. “Why’d you go in in the first place if you knew you didn’t like it?”

“My parents were Wokhala. I was born into group.”

“…Zebrabwe’s a real strange place.”

“Says pony orange with apples on her rump.”

Applejack couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “Y’know, I don’t think I’d mind livin’ with them.” She nodded off towards the Wokhala. “At least for a little while. Home’s great and all, but here…”

“Your magic could help they. You can grow plants more good, yes?”

“Sure. All earth ponies can.” Applejack gave the Wokhala one last look, and an idea jumped into her brain. “Y’know, if Equestria and Zebrabwe start excha- start sharin’ ponies and zebras, enough earth ponies growin’ stuff here could make the nyumbu not needed for y’all.”

Bhiza didn’t say anything, but her walk turned light, and a vague, distant smile crawled its way onto her face.

They’d been walking long enough that the mountains they’d left that morning had long since been swallowed up by the curve of the earth. With maybe two or three inches of sun still sticking above the horizon, Idube had decided to finally stop and set up camp, detouring towards something that was a mix of a smallish hill and a granite pile; Bhiza called it a kopje. Getting up wasn’t too difficult, but the sun had completely set by the time they were at the top, and darkness was falling rapidly.

Applejack finally, finally, finally unhitched the cart and almost collapsed, taking deep breaths. Even on the farm, it’d been a long time since she’d worked that hard. She couldn’t stop her muscles from shaking and twitching, and she was sweating so much, it was like she’d just climbed out of a lake.

Not that she was complaining. It was the end of the day and she wouldn’t be traveling again until tomorrow. Besides, it all told her that she’d been working the whole day, and so the day had been one well spent.

Bhiza looked at Applejack and chuckled. “I am making your tent?”

Applejack waved a slightly unsteady hoof at Bhiza. “You’re makin’ my tent.”

“Ha! Worth it to see you pull cart day all. You are strong.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna be sleepin’ like a log tonight.”

Tents went up quickly (true to her word, Bhiza set up Applejack’s), soon followed by a bonfire. Unlike the rocky shelf of the morning, the top of the kopje had plenty of space for everyone, and even a small spring they could drink from. Dinner was a lot friendlier than it had been last night; with a large fire available, everyone had circled around it and was telling stories or jokes. A zebra tradition, Applejack gathered.

The storytellers told their tales in Zebran, naturally, but Bhiza was translating for Applejack. “And then… hehe… and then zebra first says, ‘That is fog painful!’” She collapsed to the ground in a fit of giggles.

Applejack waited for her to continue, but even the storyteller had stopped. All the other zebras seemed to laughing at least a little. She stared down at Bhiza. “Is… That ain’t supposed to be funny, is it?”

“Hehe…” Bhiza coughed to slow her laughing. “It is funny in Zebran.”

Oh. Probably a pun, then. Applejack wasn’t a fan of puns. They were silly things, among the lowest form of humor, and half the time, they were only funny because they were so unfunny. Puns were terrible, terrible, terrible.

When the zebras had settled down, a quiet discussion started up. They’d already gone through this before, but Bhiza still translated for Applejack. “They are asking who wants to go next,” she said. “We-”

One of the zebras spoke up, in Equestrian. “What about you, Applejack?” As one, the rest of the zebras turned to look curiously at Applejack. Even those who couldn’t speak Equestrian recognized her name.

Applejack twitched and jumped into the air an inch or so. Getting put on the spot like that was never a good sign. “Wh-what about me?”

“You’re from a country none of us have seen, even though we all want to go there,” said the zebra. Her accent was a bit thicker than Idube’s, but still perfectly understandable, and her words came out a lot more fluidly. “You’re friends with a princess who can use magic. You must have some stories you can share with us. Please? I’m Erevu, by the way,” she added.

“W-well, um…” muttered Applejack. The idea of telling some of her adventures with Twilight was kind of appealing, she admitted, but she didn’t like being put on the spot like that.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine,” said Erevu. “Even if they have good stories, some people can’t tell them. Or they can and they don’t want to. Such as myself.” Erevu tapped herself on the chest and grinned guiltily. “So just-”

If anything, that just gave Applejack the nudge she needed to actually go ahead and do it. “No, I can do it. Bhiza, you think you can translate for me?”

Bhiza locked up. “I… do not think I-”

Zecora cleared her throat. “Perhaps I should be the link between our two groups, I think. My grasp of language is more complete; I’ll know exactly what to repeat.”

“Yes,” Bhiza said quickly.

“Fair ‘nough.” Applejack flicked her ears to get herself psyched up a little. “Might as well start at the beginnin’, then, when I met Twilight. It was about three years ago, and Ponyville, my hometown, was gettin’ ready for the Summer Sun Celebration. It’s-”

Zecora nudged Applejack lightly and made small grunting noises to get her attention. “Do not speak at your normal rate,” she whispered, “I need some moments to translate.”

“Sorry,” Applejack whispered back. “Shoulda known.”

After a few lines in Zebran, Applejack started up again. “The Summer Sun Celebration is where our Princess Celestia raises the sun on the first day of summer. That’s, um, that’s one of our seasons. And it was bein’ held in Ponyville that year. Twilight was Celestia’s student then, and she was overseein’ all the arrangements and such.”

As Zecora translated, Applejack braced herself for ridicule about claiming that Celestia raised the sun. But none came. The zebras didn’t even look all that skeptical. Maybe Livingstone had really drilled it into their heads that, yes, Celestia really did raise the sun. Applejack was just happy she didn’t need to spend a while justifying it.

“But then, durin’ the celebration, right at dawn, Celestia didn’t show up. See, Celestia raises the sun, and her sister, Luna, raises the moon. But a thousand years ago — the two of ‘em are immortal — a thousand years ago, Luna went nuts from the night not bein’ appreciated, started callin’ herself Nightmare Moon, and tried to keep the sun from risin’ to make an eternal night. Celestia had to seal her in the moon. Well, she escaped right then and kidnapped Celestia.”

No skepticism about Celestia being immortal, either. Livingstone must’ve really gone deep on this. There was some sort of reaction on Luna and her getting sealed in the moon, but then, Luna hadn’t come back before Livingstone had left, so that sort of thing wouldn’t’ve been on Livingstone’s mind.

“So Celestia’s gone, Nightmare Moon’s free, and the sun ain’t comin’ up anytime soon. But Twilight, she knew a thing or two about this. She decided to go and find the Elements of Harmony. They’re these… artifact thingies that Celestia used to seal Nightmare Moon in the first place. They were supposed to be not too far from Ponyville, in the Princesses’ old castle.”

The zebras, already interested, perked up a bit more. Ancient artifacts, a princess to save, an ancient evil to defeat? It was turning into a straight-up adventure story.

“Problem is, the Elements were in the Everfree Forest, one of the most dangerous places in Equestria. It… it just ain’t natural. It’s filled with all sorts of dangerous critters, and everythin’ works on its own. But, hay, Twilight was goin’ in there, and I sure a sugar wasn’t lettin’ her go in there alone. Me and some other ponies followed her in.”

Silence. The zebras were enraptured.

They remained a captive audience all the way until Applejack said, “…so Twilight decided to stay in Ponyville, and me and her and the other girls have been friends ever since.”

The zebras drummed their hooves on the ground. “Exciting. But is that your only story?” asked Erevu. “What else have you done?”

Applejack batted at an ear. Now that she was in the swing of things, this was easy. “Well…”

“How big, exactly,” said Erevu, “was this… dra-gon?”

“Biggest animal I’ve ever seen,” Applejack responded, “and I’ve seen quite a few.”

“But how big?” Bhiza asked. “Nyokakubwa big?” Some of the zebras exchanged glances and snickered.

Applejack ignored them. “No. Bigger’n that. Way bigger.”

The snickers died down. “How big?” Bhiza asked again.

“Real big. Big big.”

“How big is big big?” Erevu pressed.

“Big as in, just one of its eyes was bigger’n any one of y’all. Its teeth were longer’n you from nose to tail. Y’all saw the ship I came in on? It was bigger’n that.”

All the zebras recoiled a little (although some had to wait for the translation), and a collective “oooooooooo” went up.

“And if in me you want to put your trust,” added Zecora, “the dragon truly was that enormous.”

Another “oooooooooo”. “So how did you get it to leave?” Erevu asked, her voice a little faster from curiosity.

“I was just gettin’ to that,” huffed Applejack. “So I told y’all about Fluttershy, right? Well, she went right up to the dragon and told it off real, real bad. Ain’t never seen nothin’ like it before or since. And the dragon just caved right then and there and flew off.”

As Zecora translated, Bhiza scooted a few feet closer to Applejack. “Flut-ter-shy…” she said with a frown, “…is pony easy-to-scare, yes?”

“That’s puttin’ lightly, but yeah.”

“But she… yelled at dragon? Made it leave?”

“Yep.”

Bhiza stared at Applejack. Her left ear twitched, then her right, then it repeated. Eventually, she asked, “…How?!”

“Got me. Ehm, I dunno.”

“She could win wars alone and be afraid of twig snapping!”

“…I sure as sugar wouldn’t put it past her…”

“You thought she was a witch?!” Idube said disapprovingly. Another one of the zebras was tutting. “Skilled with potions, yes. Witch?” She laughed derisively.

“She lived in the Everfree, she always kept herself covered with a cloak, and I’d never seen anythin’ like her before!” protested Applejack. “We don’t have zebras in Equestria! And it ain’t like she tried to explain herself or anythin’!”

“What?”

Everyone’s gaze snapped to Zecora, who suddenly looked very self-conscious. “You didn’t talk to them?” Erevu asked. “At all?”

Zecora rubbed her forelegs together and looked away. “I… suppose that I made no attempt to ensure their fear would relent. They always hid, and yet I never tried to make sure they knew better. I’d leave without a single word, and never let my voice be heard.”

“Well, that’s your fault. You sh-”

“Butthat’sinthepast!” Applejack said loudly, making everyone jump. “We apologized and we’re all friends now and we know she ain’t a witch or if she is she’s a nice one! It was a silly thing for me to think but I don’t think it no more!” Everyone looked back to her, and she quickly went back to the story before someone else could interject. “Anyway, we were followin’ my little si-”

“Wait…” muttered Erevu. “How is Zecora being a witch different from Twilight being a witch? Twilight still had magic then, didn’t she?”

“Um…”

Erevu waved her hooves to cut Applejack off. “Wait, wait, Discord just… let you keep them? He didn’t take them back or even replace them with fakes to begin with?”

Applejack shook her head. “Nope. I guess he thought-”

But before she could finish, Erevu quickly translated for the rest of the zebras, who quickly fell into raucous laughter. Bhiza was on the ground, clutching her sides, and even Zecora was chuckling a little.

Applejack flicked her ears in annoyance. “What’s so funny?” she asked Zecora.

“They don’t think Discord’s all that smart,” responded Zecora, “to ignore such a crucial part of his plan to fill the world with gloom, for that small slip-up was his doom.”

“Well, he ain’t stupid,” said Applejack. “No, he ain’t as smart as Twilight, but he ain’t stupid.”

But Zecora didn’t agree with her. “I have seen the way he acts,” she said, “and common sense, he somewhat… lacks.”

“Your idea of helping her was to do the exact same thing she was doing and egg her on?!” screamed Erevu. “Why didn’t you try, I don’t know, talking to her? You are her friends, right?”

“I told you, we did! She didn’t listen!” Applejack screamed back.

“Once! You don’t give up on something if it only fails once!”

“Dash ain’t exactly easy to persuade! She sets her mind to somethin’, she stays set.”

“That still doesn’t excuse you only trying to talk to her once. And if nothing else, pretending to be a superhero was not the right way to go about trying to help her.”

“Yeah, well, it, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Erevu snorted. “If you were drunk, maybe.”

“A whole army,” said Idube flatly. “All of them shapeshifters?”

“Yep. Each and every one.” Applejack lightly punctuated each word with a tap on the ground.

“How did you tell each other apart? They did disguise themselves, yes?”

“Sure did. But there were just too many of ‘em to really make a difference. I could pick anypony, and chances were it’d be a changeling, not a friend.” Applejack laughed a little. “I gotta say, it was weird beatin’ up on Twilight, but not half as weird as lookin’ up and seein’ her beatin’ up on me.”

“Did you win? Did you win? Did you win?” Erevu was nearly bouncing on the ground.

“Well, uh…” Applejack pulled her hat down in front of her face. “Not really. Too many of ‘em.”

Erevu’s face fell. “Oh.”

“Yeah. We got captured and taken back to the castle, but Shinin’ and Cadance saved the day with some kinda magic or somethin’. Basically, blew the changelings away with a love explosion.”

Erevu clapped a hoof to her mouth. “That sounds slightly dirty,” she said, obviously trying not to laugh. “Especially if they just got married.”

“Well, I don’t mean like that! Sheesh.”

“Pardon the interruption, but how do you miss an entire empire?” asked Idube. “Perhaps things are different in Equestria, but… empires are big, are they not?”

“Magic,” said Applejack. “It just didn’t exist for a thousand years. And it ain’t that big. One of the biggest cities in Equestria, but probably not as big as you’re thinkin’.”

“But… that is a city, not an empire, if you will forgive my obviousness. Empires are nations, not mere cities. Why is it called an empire?”

Applejack shrugged. “I don’t get it either, but that’s what it’s called. I’ve heard Twilight say it’s more metaphorical than anythin’, about how it spreads light and love and all that across Equestria and that means we’re all like its colonies or somethin’, but I still don’t get it.”

“I suppose that works,” Idube said. “Please, continue.”

“What I want to know is, why was she able to buy such an amulet in a used goods store?” asked Erevu. “That’s… that’s…” She babbled randomly for a second, trying to find the right word, before finally settling on, “…not-sense-making.”

“Dunno,” Applejack said with a shrug. “Twilight thinks the pony who sold it to her didn’t really know how bad it was. Like he thought it was just a story to make it more mysterious. Y’know…” She waved her hooves around. “OooOOOooo, scary amulet, oooOOOooo. That kinda thing.”

“But it is not for sale now, correct?” Idube questioned. “Surely you would not make the same mistake.”

“Nope. It’s in a real secret place now. So secret, actually, that I don’t know where it is. Zecora does-” Applejack lightly clapped Zecora on the shoulder. “-but I don’t. And it should probably stay that way.”

“Good,” Idube said. “If not, it would be like having one of our army’s rockets available in a gift shop. And always on sale.”

“You have spell that can change fate,” gasped Bhiza, “and you do nothing with it?”

“T’be honest,” Applejack said, twitching her tail, “I ain’t exactly sure what it does. And it don’t create new fates, just swaps ours around. Least, that’s what happened to us. And it was less fate and more cutie marks…” Then she frowned. “But I guess that kinda changed our fates somehow, and…” She shook her head. “I dunno. I’ll have to ask Twilight.”

One of the zebras whispered something in Erevu’s ear, who nodded and relayed, “But if you could choose whose fate you got, then if you gave the right fate to the right person…” She tapped her chin in thought, but didn’t go on.

“It’d never work,” answered Applejack. “We were all terrible at the new things we were doin’, right? ‘Sides, I don’t really think ‘fate’ is a thing. We got free will, don’t we?”

“Yes,” said Bhiza, “but it is like rope loose tied at ends both. You can m-”

Zecora cleared her throat and moved into the center of the group. “Let’s not debate philosophy,” she said, “for even if our will is free, such a deep analysis is not fit for groups such as this. This is not the place, nor the time, to talk about such paradigms.”

Bhiza looked at Applejack for clarification.

“Talkin’ ‘bout free will’s bad, here.”

Bhiza grinned and chuckled.

“So…” Erevu said slowly, “the vines took your princesses and nearly overran your country.”

“Yeah,” said Applejack.

“And it was Discord’s fault.”

“Yeah.”

“Even though he said it wasn’t and lied about being able to fix it.”

“Yeah.”

“…And you still trust him why?”

Applejack shrugged to buy some time for an answer. “Well, uh, Twilight trusts him-” I think, she didn’t add. “-and she’s better at that sorta thing than I am.”

Erevu snorted and flicked her tail, but left it at that.

“What is ‘bat’?” Bhiza asked curiously.

“Popo,” Erevu said.

“Oooooh. And Fluttershy became one… how?”

“Magic,” Applejack said again.

“I know,” Bhiza said with a scowl and a tail-flick, “but ho-”

“Magic.”

“…Bu-”

“Magic. I dunno, I really don’t. I don’t know magic, I can’t explain it.”

“‘It is magic, so I cannot explain it’ seems quite common in Equestria,” Idube said, halfway between amused and annoyed.

“Believe me,” Applejack said, “you ain’t seen the half of it.”

“So,” Erevu said, looking a bit angry, “all Discord had to do was capture that… Tirek.”

“Yeah.”

“But he didn’t. Because he was swayed by not much more than, ‘Be evil with me. I have cookies.’”

“…I guess.”

“And he then proceeded to work with Tirek in stealing all the magic from Equestria.”

“…Yeah.”

“And he only went back to good because Tirek turned on him, not because any of you persuaded him.”

“He sounds kinda selfish when you put it that way…”

“But it’s true, right?”

“…Yeah.”

Erevu blinked and nearly exploded. “…And you still trust him WHY?!”

“‘Cause Twilight does, and Discord’s real sorry about it all. He definitely changed for the better after all that. Seriously.”

Erevu snorted and muttered, “You are much, much, much more forgiving than I am.” A few angry murmurs of agreement came from the audience.

Applejack and Zecora looked at each other. They both shrugged.

“So she made all equal by pulling they down, yes?” questioned Bhiza. “Changing your cutie marks?”

“Yeah. And that’s the real reason we stopped her: her makin’ ponies worse to make ‘em equal. I’m fine with everyone bein’ equal, but then we should all be good at everythin’, not bad at everythin’.”

“You said you did not catch her. Did you find her later?”

Applejack and Zecora exchanged glances. Applejack coughed and said, “We, we found her, and Twilight, ehm, made her see that she was wrong. And that one’s, ehm, kinda personal, so I ain’t doin’ it.”

Several of the zebras sighed in disappointment.

“If Luna can control dreams,” asked Bhiza, “why did she not shut down thing?”

“Tantabus?”

“Yes. It is creature of dreams. She should be able to stop it alone. Yes?”

“I don’t really-”

Somebody said something to Erevu, who added, “And didn’t you say she was only Nightmare Moon for a few hours a millennium ago? Why’d her guilt get that bad?”

“Well, that’s what Twilight saw in that potion, I ain’t sure if it was really accurate.” Applejack glanced at Zecora. “Was it?”

“And why would Luna allow it to leave her own dream to begin with?” interrupted Idube. “It seems it would be much simpler to not give it any capacity to leave her dream at all.”

Applejack groaned and rubbed her face. “Look, I dunno any of this. Dream magic and Luna’s past ain’t my things. Can we all just move on?”

“When you say she lived near a ‘rock farm’,” Idube cut in, “I assume you mean ‘mine’.” Her voice was dry, and Applejack could detect a hint of sarcasm in it.

Before she could respond, though, Erevu spoke up. “I don’t think so. Rock farms are different from mines. You can’t just dig into the ground and hope you get the right type of stone on a rock farm. It takes more work than that.”

“Work? They are rocks, how can they need work?”

“Just to begin with, you need to-” And then Erevu suddenly shifted to Zebran, leaving Applejack out in the cold. More and more zebras were slowly drawn into the conversation, and Applejack suspected that even if she was fluent in Zebran, she’d have trouble following it all.

“Zecora?”

“Hmm?”

“Why is it talkin’ about rock farms gets hotter faster than talkin’ about philosophy and free will and such? I mean, I ain’t really got into the story proper yet.”

“I suppose you cannot know what shall cause a dreadful row. The simplest ideas can often hold the very thoughts to make us bold. The tallest tree can weave and bend; pebbles change not until the end.”

“I guess.” What Applejack didn’t say was that she didn’t exactly get what Zecora was saying; she had an idea — a big idea offered a lot of flexibility, while a much smaller one (i.e., rocks don’t come from farms) might only be available in absolutes and offer no compromise — but she couldn’t be sure about it. Oh, well.

“Remind me again what is so terrible about weather not being controlled,” said Idube flatly. “Particularly in this single area, even if that area is nominally an empire.”

“It’s worse up north,” said Applejack. “Way worse. It’s so cold it can freeze your blood just from you bein’ outside, and I ain’t exaggeratin’.”

Idube blinked and took a step back. Erevu’s eyes were wide, while Bhiza curled up into a ball and wiggled a few feet closer to the fire. A few of the zebras were exchanging frightened whispers.

“And that ain’t all,” Applejack continued. “Picture the worst rainstorm y’all’ve ever seen, then make it so cold the raindrops freeze. That’s what the weather was like right then.”

After the translation went through, dead silence fell over the camp, except for the popping of the logs that were still burning. Someone coughed. “Yes,” Idube whispered eventually. “That would be quite terrible.”

“…and then Twilight asked me if I wanted to come over here and help her, and here I am. So we’re at now now.”

The zebras stamped on the ground in applause. “You are going to be a tough act to follow,” laughed Erevu. But the stomps hadn’t even died down completely when another zebra volunteered and it all started again.

Applejack angled an ear towards Bhiza, half-listening for the translation. Telling stories was surprisingly draining, mentally speaking, and she wasn’t really up to listening to two languages at once just yet. But being only half-listening, it took her a while to notice that Bhiza wasn’t translating at all. Instead, she was staring at Applejack with something resembling wonder. Applejack kneaded the ground beneath her hooves and asked, “What?”

“You are pony interesting very,” said Bhiza. “Everything you did… big.”

“Shucks, it ain’t nothin’.” Applejack dismissed Bhiza with a wave of her hoof. “Those’re just the parts I thought y’all’d wanna hear.”

“But…” Bhiza stood her hoof on its tip and twisted it back and forth. “You did they. My life? Normal.” She didn’t sound forlorn. A bit down, but nowhere near actually sad.

“And my life’s normal to me,” said Applejack. “You ain’t told a story yet. You might be normal for zebras, but zebras’ normal is new to me. Why don’t you tell me somethin’? Just me?”

Bhiza brightened up immediately. “I can do that.”

18 - Who Are You

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It was 2 AM, and although she tossed and turned, Twilight couldn’t sleep.

Her head swam with apprehension and dismay. She’d almost gotten killed again, and, again, Spike and Livingstone were in the crossfire. This was turning into a fiasco. At this rate, they’d all be dead before she really got a chance to speak with Inkosi. And then what? How would Celestia react? Despair? Anger? What if the culprit was found? What if the culprit wasn’t found? No matter which way Twilight nudged the situation in her head, it always turned out poorly at best.

The sheets felt too warm beneath her. She moved to the other side of the bed to find a colder spot. No luck.

The worst part was that she could do absolutely nothing about it, not even check in with the detectives investigating it. In Equestria, seeing how they were doing would make her look like a micromanager, which… wasn’t that far from the truth, Twilight had to admit. But there, it would be acceptable. Here, where she was an ambassador from a foreign land, it’d probably look downright insulting. Hey. Hey. Have you found them yet? You should have. I’m not saying you should have, but you totally should have. But, no. She just had to sit here in the embassy and wait for them to find an answer.

Her pillow was lumpy. She fluffed it. It was lumpy. She fluffed it. It was even lumpier.

And she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was failing in her duties as ambassador and representative of Equestria. It wasn’t her fault — she’d been targeted well before anybody knew what she was like — but she was the Princess of Friendship, and people trying to kill you wasn’t exactly friendly. She’d tried with Kutengwa, but with the attack breaking them up, Twilight couldn’t see how far she’d gotten through. Maybe she’d done amazingly, maybe she’d done terribly. She just couldn’t know, and that gap in her knowledge gnawed at her like a termite. Unfortunately, unlike a termite, she couldn’t squish it. So it was more like a cockroach. A cockroach-termite hybrid. Ugh.

The mattress wasn’t smooshy enough. She changed positions. It was too smooshy.

It all combined to keep her awake better than several intravenous injections of caffeine. It wasn’t like insomnia, where she felt incredibly tired but couldn’t get to sleep. She felt wide awake, but burned out. Too tired to do much of anything physical, and yet alert enough to form complex thoughts. And it all came back to the same thing: she was the representative of Equestria, and yet here she was, doing absolutely nothing to help her cou-

Wait.

She was the representative of Equestria. But, in a sense, Livingstone was a representative, too. Unofficial, but still. She was the first pony to spend any significant amount of time in Zebrabwe. And just after she’d arrived, travel outside of Zebrabwe’s borders had been “banned”. What if the two were linked? What if it had nothing to do with her, personally, but someone wanting to keep Equestria’s hooves out of Zebrabwe’s pie? Twilight had never considered it before due to everything going down, but the more she considered it, the more the pieces lined up: by the time Livingstone’s travels were becoming known among the right zebras, someone would try to block her from getting back to Equestria, cutting off international interaction again. And then, once Twilight died, relations between Zebrabwe and Equestria would be frosty at best. Equestrians would come over to find out the truth, sure, but ponies and zebras would be looking daggers at each other the whole time and for years, probably decades, afterwards.

Why, though? Barely anyone knew anything about Equestria before Twilight had showed up. It was like just because another country had showed up, they needed to be as unfriendly to Zebrabwe as possible. But who’d want that?

Twilight knew she should just try to get to sleep. But with her mind wide awake and this new avenue presenting itself, there was nothing she could do about it. She rolled off her bed and started pacing to get the blood flowing, and gave her wings slight flaps that did nothing for lift. Exercise helped her sort her mind out, she’d found.

And so, Twilight started doing quite possibly the one thing she did better than friending and lecturing: she thought.

First things first. What did they know about whoever was targeting them? Not much, unfortunately. They kept hiding behind assassins and prox- Wait. Assassins and mercenaries weren’t exactly cheap, right? Twilight had no idea what the suggested wage for an assassin was, for obvious reasons. But she figured they’d be expensive. And if they were expensive, then their mysterious antagonist would probably have money, and lots of it. It wasn’t much, but it gave Twilight an idea: assassins weren’t the only people you could pay; what about the postmares?

Livingstone had said that the “law” forbidding travel had come through right after she’d returned to Zebrabwe. No way that was a coincidence. What if the postmares had been bribed to take a phony letter to Bandari Mji once news of Livingstone’s return reached whoever? That still left the royal seal, though, which had ostensibly been official. But then Twilight’s train of thought jumped onto a new track: a bribed postmare could just as easily stop letters as send them. Hey, burn any letters Livingstone sends out, will you? Here’s ten thousand lijamu. Actually, the more Twilight thought about it, the more likely it seemed. It was just so simple. Postmares: probably bribed.

Twilight went back to the mercenaries. They’d been wearing flame-retardant suits. But who knew Spike could breathe fire? Everyone at the dinner had seen him burn a letter to send to Celestia, but no one else had talked to him before or since then. Which meant that whoever hired the assassins had to have been at the dinner or had an accomplice there. Unfortunately, considering Twilight hadn’t talked to many people there, that didn’t narrow things down for her much. But she could at least go through all the people she’d said more than two words to there and consider them: in order, Uvivi, Mhate, Mtendaji, Inkosi, Kutengwa, Okubi.

Uvivi: not a chance. Not in a million years. She and Livingstone were friends, she’d given Twilight the translation spell, and she’d ground up her own horn to ensure Twilight survived the poison. Definitely not.

Mhate: maybe, maybe not. She’d been all angry at them that first day, but if what Kutengwa had said was true, then it was literally the future of Imayini on the line. That’d make things more than a bit stressful. Besides, she’d visited Twilight in the medical bay the next day and apologized. Still, none of that guaranteed she didn’t try to kill Twilight. Possible, but Twilight was leaning towards unlikely.

Mtendaji: Twilight was split. She’d seemed so nice, but according to Kutengwa, she’d also been lying through her teeth. Who’s to say being nice wasn’t also an act? And what reason would she have to lie before even knowing Twilight except to gather sympathy for herself? She might be trying to deflect suspicion if it went wrong. And she had personally offered Twilight that kashata right before the poison took effect. But then, she’d also taken one, so maybe she knew which ones were and weren’t poisoned. But she’d only taken one after Twilight had taken one; what if Twilight had grabbed the unpoisoned one? So: possible, and it was hard to say whether it was likely or unlikely.

Inkosi: technically possible, but utterly laughable. There were a thousand better ways of going about killing Twilight for her, if only because she was the king. As for keeping Equestria out, there were a million better ways for her to do that. Twilight discarded the idea without a second thought.

Kutengwa: for someone Twilight would’ve bet money on being the one just a few hours ago, there was a fast turnaround to “probably not”. She’d made some good points about what would happen between the two countries if Twilight had died, and she’d acted civilly enough in the theatre, even if she could’ve been faking. Possible — she was probably the one with the best motivation — but very unlikely, considering she’d loathe the results.

Okubi: completely unknown. She looked creepy, sure, but looks weren’t everything. It was how you acted that counted. The problem was that Okubi had also acted creepy. Maybe she was just antisocial, maybe she’d been trying to… do something to Twilight with that stare. Some kind of magic, maybe. Twilight realized, much to her dismay, that she knew almost nothing about zebras’ relation to magic. Askari didn’t have any experience with it, but she was just one zebra among many, many, many. Did zebras have any magic at all? If so, was Okubi an evil enchantress? (Did she do evil dances? But Twilight had looked her in the eyes and hadn’t been put in any trances.) Maybe she’d been trying to curse Twilight. Three years ago, she’d said there was no such thing as curses when talking about a certain zebra and no curses had been involved then, but three years ago, she’d’ve laughed at the idea of becoming an alicorn. Maybe, maybe not.

So the two most likely people (that Twilight had talked to) were Mtendaji and Okubi. Both CEOs in Imayini. Coincidence? Maybe. But it meant that, like most CEOs, they almost certainly had plenty of money. Enough to bribe a postmare and to hire some mercenaries to kill a diplomat, in all likelihood. But if one (or both) of them, why? They were a coal mining company. What could they want with Zebrabwe having poor relations with Equestria?

And if it was at least one of them, Twilight hit a snag: Uvivi’s stake, or if she even had one. None of the ponies knew that abada horn cured poison. If Uvivi wanted Twilight dead, all she had to do was withhold that little fact. So did the fact that she hadn’t withheld it mean anything? If one of the CEOs was involved, would the consul know anything about it? She probably wasn’t; anyone who would cut off their horn to save another wouldn’t hold back information like that. Right?

Twilight’s head was spinning, and she jumped off the speculation train. Now, the timing of the attacks. The first one had occurred the night after she’d arrived, the second one the next night. Was that confident and decisive, or panicky and impulsive? Not to mention the semi-public nature of them. Confidently brave, or recklessly stupid? (Or maybe both. Rainbow Dash was alarmingly fond of proving that the distinction between the two was often meaningless.)

The really weird thing, though, was the assassin waiting in the theatre, whoever they were. Why the theatre? Twilight herself hadn’t known she was going there until a few minutes before she went there. Prepared or a lucky guess? If they were prepared, how could they know? Seeing the future was impossible, right? If it was a lucky guess, why guess the theatre, of all places? Twilight was suddenly struck with an image of the assassin waiting in their box for hours and hours and hours, hoping Twilight would show up, and eventually getting bored by her nonappearance and hanging out at the concession stand, crossbow over her shoulder.

For a moment, Twilight also considered how the assassin had smuggled in a crossbow, a bulky weapon not conducive to hiding, in the first place, but with the involvement of abadas and the zebras’ minimal-at-best usage of magic, that was easy: an abada would hide it with magic in some way. It’d trip a dozen alarms back in Equestria, but the zebras wouldn’t have anything like that. Probably.

And — idea! — that might also explain the seal. Defenses against replicating royal seals with magic were common in Equestria (in particular, the wax had a very specific and top-secret series of enchantments laid on it that even she hadn’t known until she became a princess), but, again, zebras’ inexperience with magic would mean they lacked those defenses, especially if Zebrabwe and Wilayabada were on friendly enough terms to share corporations. It was probably easy for some abada to take the imprint of a seal and stick it on another piece of wax with magic. It wouldn’t do for large-scale manipulation of the system — Inkosi would catch on quickly — but closing trade on a few small port towns far from Kulikulu? Easy.

But even then, faking the seal was a big deal. Whoever was doing this was making absolutely sure that no one would leave Zebrabwe for Equestria. So what co-

Twilight jumped when the door to her room creaked open, but it was just Spike. “Knock knock,” he whispered. “What’s wrong, Twilight?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong,” said Twilight, convincing neither of them. “Totally not-wrong in here. Nope. No wrong. What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“You’ve been up and pacing for almost half an hour, and it’s the middle of the night,” Spike answered. “I have ears, you know.”

Twilight cringed. “Did I wake you up? Sorry. I just…”

“Well, kinda. But I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” His steps slightly unsteady, Spike walked over and hopped onto Twilight’s bed. “Seriously. What’s up?”

Twilight sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Everything,” she muttered. She went back to pacing. “It’s, I feel like I’ve been completely failing this. I’ve almost been killed twice already, and we haven’t even been in Zebrabwe a week. And I almost got you and Livingstone killed because I couldn’t sit still.”

“I’m a dragon. The most they could’ve done is given me a bruise.”

“Well, okay, yeah, but that’s beside the point. I wanted to get out, you came with me, you were attacked. If I could’ve just stayed in here, you’d’ve never been in any danger.” Twilight groaned. “Am I just… completely messing this up? I’ve never had to face anything like this in Equestria, so I don’t know if I’m doing anything wrong. Inkosi looked like she wanted to talk to me, but that’s pretty much the only thing that’s really gone right so far.”

“Twilight, the poison wasn’t your fault. All you did was show up at the dinner.”

Twilight snorted. “I know that, but tell my brain that.” She tapped the side of her head. “It keeps telling me over and over and over that I should’ve done something different, but it’s not nice enough to tell me which something.”

“And it’s gonna keep you up until you figure it out, right?”

“Yeah.” Twilight sighed and crawled onto the bed next to Spike. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what’s up with Applejack and Zecora, and the one actual problem I have here, I can’t do anything about.” She buried her face in her pillow and moaned. “Uh vuff wiff vuh uff vofe wuff guh. Uhhhh!”

A moment of silence. Then Spike said, “Twi, you think Inkosi’s a good king, right? That she can do her job?”

Twilight lifted her head back up. “Sure. Why?”

“Because I’m thinking that whoever’s going after us won’t be able to much longer. I mean, they just arrested three zebras trying to kill Livingstone and me today. Three! There’s gotta be a lead in one of them, right?”

“Maybe.” Twilight clambered off the bed. She didn’t want to warm it up any more. “I mean, it’s possible that none of them will have anything, but…”

“And Inkosi’s putting this at the top of her to-do list.” Spike reached his hand above his head. “I mean, even if she doesn’t like Equestria, just letting this go will make her look like a bad king with a terrible police force. So she’s gonna wanna get it all sorted out as soon as possible. They can’t be hiding that much longer.”

“Okay, yeah,” Twilight replied, “but until she actually finds out whodunit, I can’t leave here, because, well, today.” She started pacing again.

“You can leave the embassy, but you don’t have to leave the palace. There’s too many guards in here for them to try something. Get one of your own guards and do some exploring in here. Maybe talk to the abadas or something. After all…” Spike smiled. “Once we’ve friended Zebrabwe, Wilayabada’s right around the corner, right?”

Twilight smiled back. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Her smile faded, but she was thoughtful, not apprehensive. Her worries briefly vanished as she shifted into Scientist Mode. “Still, knowledge of a new species would be quite the discovery, scientifically speaking, and it’d be a good idea to get as much data as possible.”

And, she realized, if I went to the Imayini consulate, I could get a better handle on Mtendaji or Okubi. Talk with one or the other or both of them a bit. See if either of them slipped up on something. Mtendaji had talked with her, but not for a long time; maybe her acting wasn’t as good if she had to keep it up. (Assuming she was acting.) Okay, now that was an idea. If only they weren’t the ones most likely to try to kill her.

“You’re getting that look,” teased Spike.

Twilight stopped pacing and looked inquisitively at him. “What look?”

“The ‘Spike had a good idea for once’ look. I know it when I see it. It’s one-half confusion that I got a good idea, one-third pleasant surprise that it’s a really good idea, and one-sixth envy that I got it instead of you.”

“Well, it… it is an idea, but…” Twilight rubbed a hoof against the floor. “I did some thinking, and… the Imayini CEOs are the ones most likely to be trying to get me.”

Spike’s eyes widened. “What?” he asked, a bit loudly. “How do you know?”

“Keep it down, Spike,” hissed Twilight. “And I’ll tell you in the morning about it. But if they’re trying to assassinate me, well…” She shrugged. “Although an assassination in a consulate just seems like it’d draw suspicion, so I dunno.”

Spike blinked a few times, then said, “Then I’m coming with you.”

“Spike, you’re-”

“If your magic doesn’t work, that’s it for you. Me? I’m just fine, assuming that arrow can even get through these scales.” Spike pinged one of them with a claw. “I’ve got fire breath, super-sharp claws and teeth, and super-tough scales that don’t need magic for their toughness. …They don’t rely on magic, right?”

“Technically, no. When-”

“Uh-oh. A ‘technically’ from you is never good.”

Twilight ignored him. “When dragon scales are forming in between molts, a dragon’s magic ensures that, instead of keratin, the outer layers of scales are formed by layering atom-thin sheets of carbon to create a substance that is incredibly strong and resistant to damage while also being quite light.”

“…Which means?”

“Which I guess means you’re right. A loss of magic won’t mean much to you. It’d take more than a few hours without magic to make your scales weak, and even then, it'd be the scales after your next molt, not these ones.” Besides, Twilight admitted to herself, although the protector-protectee dynamic was usually reversed, Spike could actually be quite fierce when provoked. It wouldn’t be ideal, but in a pinch, it’d take a lot to stop Spike, even without his fire.

Spike grinned. “You’re getting the look again.”

Twilight chuckled. “You can see more of it if you keep the ideas coming. Because I don’t know what I’ll do if these people aren’t found.”

Spike smiled raised a claw, and said sagely, “Not a clue. But really, I think your plans go better when they go off the rails.”

“Hey! My plans work fine!”

“If your very first plan to find the Elements of Harmony had gone like you wanted it to, you’d’ve never made friends, and… well, who knows? Nothing good, let me tell you. And did you really have that much of a plan when you came to Zebrabwe in the first place?”

“Sure. Get to the ruler of Zebrabwe and…” But Twilight cut herself off. “That’s not really a plan, though, that’s a goal,” she muttered.

“Exactly!” said Spike. “And look at how far we’ve gotten without a plan so far. Except for the guys trying to kill us, I mean, that doesn’t really count.”

Twilight was suddenly struck with a strange image of an ambassador getting stabbed in the middle of negotiations, only for the talks to continue because the ambassador hadn’t died, and so the assassination attempt didn’t really count.

“Really, Twilight, whenever you try to plan for something, it kinda spins out of control. Remember that epic freakout when you forgot to write one of your friendship reports and tried to figure out how to fit it into the day?”

“That didn’t involve Celestia trying to shoot me in the head with a crossbow.”

“Okay, sure. But I’m not saying this is okay, just that it’s not as bad as you think. Which…” Spike rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, that isn’t saying a whole lot. But come on, you can’t have a plan for everything.”

“I know, but there’s a difference between ‘not having a plan’ and being helpless. I mean, that arrow blew through my magic like it was nothing. It’s back and I feel fine, but most of my personal defense relies on magic, so if that’s useless, I…” Twilight rubbed the scab on her cheek, hung her head, and dragged her way back to the bed. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “Even if I had it, I couldn’t examine it properly, because it repels magic, but I need magic to examine it. I, I just don’t know what to do.”

Spike pulled on his claws. “I don’t, either,” he said. “But you’ll figure something out. You always do. You were Celestia’s prized pupil for a reason, after all.” Spike slid onto the floor. “Try and sleep on it. Maybe you’ll wake up with a brilliant idea. Please?”

Rolling onto the place Spike had just vacated, Twilight said, “I’ll try.” Don’t know what good it’ll do, though.

“Great.” Spike stifled a yawn. “Now, if you don’t mind…” Without another word, Spike loped out of the room.

Half a second after the door closed, Twilight lifted her head up. “Spike?”

Spike slipped back into the room. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. But try not to make it in the middle of the night next time, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

19 - Eye in the Sky

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Applejack woke slowly, with that calm, contented feeling of “I am completely rested but don’t want to get up just yet” of an absolutely perfect night’s sleep. Just in case, she nudged aside her tent’s flap. The sky was just beginning to turn orange. Yeah, she could rest a little while longer.

So far, traveling across the Serembarti had been… serene, nyumbu notwithstanding. And even then, the nyumbu had just been boring, not exactly stressful or anything. It was nice, just walking along across the plains, pulling a cart. Even though barely anyone spoke Equestrian, Bhiza had proven herself to be a good conversation partner and a good friend. She could live like this, no problem. It was calm, it was easy, it was relaxing. It was also hot and buggy, but nothing was perfect.

Still, she wanted to see Twilight again. She was torn on whether or not she wanted to get to Kulikulu faster or slower. Faster, she’d see Twilight sooner. Slower, she’d be in the Se- Screw it. Faster. The Serembarti was always going to be there. She’d be crossing it again on the way back. She wanted to see Twilight again.

When she decided the time for lounging about in bed was over, Applejack stood up and yawned. She staggered out of her tent and onto the kopje. She wasn’t sure where she was heading; maybe she could watch the sunrise.

Off to one side stood a tower-like formation, overlooking the kopje and the Serembarti for miles around. Applejack clambered up it to get a better view and found Bhiza and Zecora up top. Bhiza had been the last guard of the night; she was wearing some kind of horizontal pole on one leg and a rack of spears was attached to one side. Zecora was standing on her head and had her front hooves pushed together, presumably meditating somehow (but how could she think like that?). The two of them were exchanging words in Zebran.

Applejack sat down a short distance away; if they wanted to include her, they’d do so, but if not, she didn’t have a problem with that. The west was still pitch-black, but in the east, where the first scraps of the sun were finally visible, the horizon was a contrast between black land and orange sky. Flat as you could imagine, all the way around. It was both strange and relaxing.

Bhiza took a few steps closer to Applejack. “Almost done,” she said. “We will be in Kulikulu by tonight.”

“You sure?” Applejack wasn’t that concerned, but it couldn’t hurt.

“Yes. It is easy today, like it was yesterday.”

“Alrighty then.” A few more seconds of silence, then Applejack said, “I’m gonna miss you, Bhiza.”

Bhiza blinked and looked at Applejack. “‘Miss’ me?” She made motions over her shoulder, like someone had shot an arrow at her but missed.

“No! No, not like that. It’s, I’ll notice you’re gone. Thanks for walkin’ with me the past few days.”

“Oh. That.” Bhiza laughed. “Then I will miss you also, Applejack. But I have showed-”

“Shown.”

“-you Gondwana. Maybe you can show I Equestria when I go.” Bhiza smiled and nudged Applejack in the ribs. “Because I will go sometime.”

Applejack was sure she was bruising there, Bhiza had done that so often. As she rubbed her side, she said, “I can show you Ponyville, at least. I think you’ll like it. Ain’t too big, everypony’s real friendly-”

“I am zebra. Zecora is zebra. They did not-”

“They’ll be fine with you now. It’s just they hadn’t seen a zebra before then, so-”

“I know. I am joking.”

“Heh. Sorry.”

“Do not worry.” Bhiza waved it off. “I am not good very with jokes.”

“Me neither.” Applejack looked down at the pole strapped to Bhiza’s leg. When she was standing up straight, it would be horizontal with the ground and just a few inches above it. “Speakin’ of awkwardly changin’ the subject, what’s that?”

“Helps throw spears,” Bhiza said. “Look.” She slapped her hoof to her side and came away with the device holding a spear. She held it up for Applejack to examine. The spear was clamped in some kind of mechanism right near the hoof, and the not-pointy end — which, Applejack noticed, was slightly concave — was nestled on the end, on a sort of narrow hook. The concave portion of the spear was sitting right on the tip of the hook.

“You throw it like this.” Bhiza stood up on her rear legs and brought her spear leg back behind her shoulder. She bounced on her rear hooves for a second, then swung her leg forward while at the same time jumping forward and down, collapsing back onto all fours.

Before Applejack could ask, Bhiza was talking again. “But you need to… release, I think… release spear.” She held up her hoof for Applejack to see again. Keeping her leg straight, she bent her hoof at the ankle. The action turned a series of gears, which caused the clamps holding the spear to open up and release it. The spear fell away to the ground; Bhiza quickly retrieved it.

“Do it right,” Bhiza said, “and…” She made the throwing motion again, this time releasing the spear, and wow did it fly far. Applejack quickly lost sight of it in the morning gloom.

Applejack whistled. “Dang. That’s somethin’, all right.”

“And I am not good very at it. You should see masters.” Bhiza looked around at the Serembarti and said, “I am sorry, but I have to keep guarding. Do not distract I for…” She tapped her hoof on the ground a few times. “Five minutes.”

“Alright. Sorry.”

Bhiza nodded and walked to the other side of the small tower. With not much else to do (and not much desire to do much else), Applejack slowly sidled over to Zecora, who was still balancing on her head, eyes closed. Applejack sat there for a few moments, staring at the eastern sky, then looked down at Zecora. “You sure are good at balancin’.”

Zecora opened one eye and smiled at Applejack. “This position utterly reverses blood flow, which takes the mind to where it does not often go. I think much better when I’m like this. But it is taxing, I will admit.”

“Heh.” Applejack started scanning the horizon again. “Y’know, it’s strange. I’ve known you for, what, three years now? And I still barely know anythin’ about you. I mean, y’all came across somethin’ like five thousand miles of ocean all by your lonesome, and I ain’t never asked you ‘bout that.” She looked down at Zecora. “Seriously. How come I never brought it up?”

In spite of being upside-down, Zecora managed to shrug. “A detail that is very small may never come to mind at all. You knew what I had to do, but did not think it fully through. You knew I came from far away, but never thought about the days I spent while sailing on the sea; it wasn’t important between you and me.”

Zecora lowered her hooves to the ground and stood up in one smooth motion. “It was never all that vital to know why I was not idle. My past never mattered, so you never asked why I would go.”

“I guess.” Applejack looked back to the horizon. “Kinda storied out at the moment, now, from last night. Maybe later.” She raised her nose and sniffed; the air was sweet and rich, filled with strange scents that were almost but not quite like the ones back home.

Zecora laughed softly. “You’re very strange, Applejack, to go on a course and then pull back.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the way it works.”

Shaking her head and chuckling, Zecora headed back to her tent and left Applejack sitting there at about the same time Bhiza completed her circuit. Dropping onto her rump, Bhiza asked, “You see something?”

“Not really. Just that.” Applejack pointed out a large bird she’d seen coming at them, large enough to carry a pony. It seemed to be glowing slightly, but irregularly, like a candle that kept getting blown out and relit.

Bhiza nodded. “Ah. Impundulu. We use they for ma-”

“I know. Livingstone told me ‘bout them way back in town.” Applejack left out that she’d forgotten the name. The impundulu was coming straight at them, growing larger by the second. Applejack could just barely make out the shape of the rider on its back between wingbeats.

“Strange that we can see it.” Bhiza started frowning, just a little. “They often fly more high.”

“Anythin’ wrong with that?”

“Maybe. This low, th-”

Then, just as it passed over them, the impundulu changed directions and dove straight down.

“Away!” yelled Bhiza. She shoved Applejack and rolled in the opposite direction.

At the same time, barely any distance above the ground, the impundulu suddenly pulled up hard, flapping its wings toward the ground. Lightning zapped down to the spot the two of them had just been at and thunder boomed. Applejack, already unsteady, was knocked over by the shockwave and her ears rang. The impundulu and its rider flew low and fast over the camp, peeling away to prepare for another pass.

“I good!” called Bhiza as she slowly stood up. “You good?”

“I’m fine! I’m good!” Applejack responded. She shook her head to clear it; she got her hooves under her, but the thunder was still ringing in her ears. “What in the hay was that?”

“Impundulu,” panted Bhiza. “Brings lightning.” Slightly unsteady, she trotted up to Applejack and began looking her over. “Are you hurt? A-”

“I’m fine,” Applejack said again. “Listen, we gotta-”

“Nini kutomba kinachoendelea?!”

The thunder had woken up the other zebras; you couldn’t ignore something that loud. But, roused from sleep, most of them were groggy at best, still crawling slowly out of their tents. Except for Idube, who was up, out, right next to Applejack and Bhiza, and screaming her lungs out.

“Kwa nini kutomba ni sisi kuvamiwa na impundulu?” she bellowed, pointing a shaking hoof at the approaching impundulu. Then she whirled on Bhiza. “Na kwa nini si mikuki yenu kustahajabu nje? Sasa!” Without missing a beat, she was among the other zebras, yelling, occasionally clouting, them into wakefulness.

Not a moment too soon. The impundulu swooped low over the camp, releasing a wall of lightning bolts in its wake. Applejack and Bhiza both dropped to the ground, hooves over their heads. The impundulu didn’t seem to be aiming for anything, just trying to create confusion, but it still ignited two of the tents (both thankfully empty), and a line of grass was smouldering dangerously. Idube was everywhere at once, directing zebras to do this or that.

“What’re we gonna do?” Applejack asked as she shakily stood up. “How’re we gonna…”

“Spears,” snarled Bhiza. She slapped her hoof to her side and loaded another spear into her thrower. She bounced up and down on her hooftips, waiting for the impundulu to come back around. “You cannot throw spears. Find another thing to do.”

Blunt, but true. Unfortunately, with getting ready to throw spears being pretty much the only thing the zebras were doing, Applejack couldn’t think of anything to d- Zecora. She’d had the paralytic to stop the nyokakubwa. Maybe she could make something for the impundulu. Applejack bolted for Zecora’s tent.

Or what was left of it. The last round of lightning had knocked it over, and now it was a limp mess of canvas vaguely supported by its poles. Zecora herself was out in front, with last night’s cooking pot suspended over a small fire made from some of the smouldering grass. She had a scrap of canvas in her mouth and was frantically waving it, trying to make the fire higher.

“Listen,” panted Applejack as she trotted up, “you look like you know what you’re doin’, so is there anythin’ I can do to he-”

Zecora shoved the sheet into Applejack’s face. “Fan the fire,” she hissed. “Make it higher.” And she ducked into the remains of her tent without another word.

Applejack froze for a moment, then started fanning the fire, giving it more air. If Zecora could stop the impundulu, then she’d do whatever it took. She kept glancing over her shoulder, trying to spot the impundulu, but she couldn’t see anything. As she fanned, the flames grew slowly but steadily.

Zecora exited her tent with several plants Applejack couldn’t identify and a wooden spoon. She dropped one of the herbs into the pot — which, Applejack noticed, had a bit of water in the bottom — and began stirring. By now, the water was beginning to simmer. Applejack set the canvas aside just long enough to ask, “So how long is this gonna take?”

“Not too long, I’m happy to say,” Zecora said around the spoon, “although I ca-”

“Chini! Down!” bellowed Idube. The impundulu was swooping in again.

Applejack and Zecora threw themselves to the ground as it approached. But right before it came over the camp, the zebras released a barrage of spears right on it. The impundulu squawked and pulled up with awkward wingbeats, the lightning crackling harmlessly into the air, and broke away. A small cheer went up from the zebras for their brief victory; even though none of them had hit, the attack was enough to force the impundulu to circle the camp as the rider thought.

Zecora worked feverishly, but luckily, the impundulu did not attack again. Finally, when the potion was bubbling green and the fumes were making Applejack’s world tilt back and forth, Zecora vanished into her tent again and returned with a large glass vial with a string tied around it.

Abruptly, the impundulu turned in the air and beelined for the camp again. “It’s comin’ back!” whispered Applejack. “Hurry!”

The zebras readied their spears as Zecora scooped a dose of potion into the vial. The impundulu approached as she stoppered it. But just as she started swinging it around with the string, the zebras hurled their spears and the impundulu pulled up to avoid them.

But just as Applejack began to calm, the impundulu turned its speed into a loop, coming back on the camp before the zebras could reload their spears back into their throwers.

“It’s still comin’!” Applejack yelled, jumping up and down. “It’s-”

Zecora released the string, giving it a little extra oomph with a deft flick of the head. The vial arced through the air, glinting in the early dawn light-

-and missed by a mile. The rider must’ve had some sharp eyes, for the impundulu barrel-rolled out of the way of the vial without missing a wingbeat.

The rider’s eyes must’ve not been that sharp, for the impundulu’s barrel roll took it straight into the path of a spear thrown by a zebra who was fast on the reload.

The spear sank into the impundulu’s side, and the bird shrieked in pain. Its flight slowed, and all attempts to fly straight were listed to one side. The zebras who’d reloaded seized the opportunity, and several more spears impaled the impundulu before it passed out of their range. It shrieked again. Unable to support its weight, the impundulu nose-dived to the ground and slammed into the Serembarti, plowing a trench into the grasslands. When it finally came to a halt, it didn’t do much more than twitch and caw painfully at the sky. The sound was so pitiful it made Applejack’s skin crawl.

Zecora blinked and swallowed. “Although… that was not my intent, our attacker did relent.” Her voice was almost shaking.

Even before Applejack could digest the event, Idube had selected several zebras at random and was waving them down to the impundulu. Bhiza was among them, and only had time to give Applejack a quick wave before she and the others left the kopje and started heading for the impundulu.

Applejack waved back, even though Bhiza wouldn’t see it, and turned her attention to Zecora. “You alright?”

Zecora gave Applejack a look. “I was far from all the bird’s flights. Why would I not be quite alright?”

“Sorry,” Applejack said, “it’s just… look at this.” She waved a hoof over the camp. It was in complete disarray; several tents had been knocked down, one even burned a little, and all their supplies had been scattered about, when they weren’t simply destroyed. Two zebras looked like they weren’t well enough to stand, but all the rest were cleaning up what they could. “Anyway, we better go help them.”

Zecora was assigned to medical work, and Idube pulled Applejack over to help fix one of the carts. “The axle has been damaged,” she said. “How, I don’t know. We have replacements, but actually doing the replacing will be tricky.”

It was easy to see that the indicated cart was broken; the back was sagging and one of the wheels was tilted. Much to Applejack’s chagrin, her help amounted to crawling under the cart and supporting its rear with her back to lift those wheels from the ground. Not that she couldn’t do it; it was just that she’d hoped for more than just, “Hold this.”

As Idube pulled the broken axle out, Applejack asked, “So, you don’t know who that was, do you? What they’re doin’ out here?”

“I do not know,” Idube sighed. She began rummaging in a box of cart parts. “Bandits are not unheard of, but they usually do not have iimpundulu.” She flipped an extra axle out and slammed the box shut.

“They looked like they were aimin’ for us,” Applejack observed.

“Of course; we are the only targets for miles. There is no one else to aim for.” Idube began pushing the new axle into place. Her work slowed for a moment. “But maybe they were looking for you. An impundulu-riding bandit who just happens upon the one party in the Serembarti with a pony? Coincidences happen, but this is a bit much.”

Applejack almost dropped the cart in shock. “Me? Why me?”

Idube shrugged. “You are a diplomat. There must be someone who wants to kill you, regardless of who you are.” Then she frowned. “I do not know how they would have found us, though. The Serembarti is a big place.” She paused, shrugged again, and continued working on the axle.

“If… if they were…” Applejack murmured, “y’all wouldn’t just… leave m-”

But Idube just laughed. “Ha! As if I would abandon you simply because some zebras want to kill you. We are so close to Kulikulu, it would be foolish to give up now. And I have been through much worse, besides.”

After the wheel was back on the cart, Idube let Applejack take a quick break to relieve the strain; earth pony strength or not, that was an awkward position to be holding a cart in. As luck would have it, Bhiza and the other zebras were returning from their trip to the impundulu. Bhiza looked haunted, and her steps were slow and heavy. “What happened?” Applejack asked.

Bhiza’s answer was slow in coming. “We had to kill impundulu. Too hurt to save.”

“Dang. I’m sorry.”

“And… and rider…” It almost looked like Bhiza was ready to throw up.

Applejack thought about being on the impundulu when it smashed through the plains like it did. Her heart briefly caught in her throat. “Dead, and I don’t wanna know the bloody details?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, you are right.” Bhiza shuddered and shook her head. “It… It was…”

“Hey, look, you’re okay,” Applejack said, patting her on the shoulder. “I mean, it ain’t great what happened to them, but you are just fine. That’s all that matters right now, right? You’ll get over it.”

“I hope.” But Bhiza was staring at the ground.

Desperate to get Bhiza out of her funk, Applejack blindly reached out for another topic, and came up with- “Anythin’ else out there?”

Bhiza blinked, shook her head, and coughed. “We searched their supplies, and-”

“Did y’all find anythin’ tellin’ who they might’ve been?”

“No. But we did find this.” Bhiza reached into one of her saddlebags and pulled out a small glass sphere, maybe two inches in diameter. Applejack was surprised it’d withstood the crash. “It has-” Bhiza suddenly stopped talking and stared at the sphere. She looked at Applejack with a scrunched face, a mixture of surprise and confusion. She looked at the sphere, at Applejack.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” Applejack kneaded the earth beneath her hooves.

One last time, Bhiza looked down at the sphere, then at Applejack. “Do not move.” She began walking a circle around Applejack, constantly staring at the sphere. Applejack wanted to turn to follow her, but decided “do not move” meant “do not move” and reluctantly stood her ground, not turning a degree.

Bhiza completed her circuit, her eyes still locked on the sphere. Slowly, she said, “This points to you.”

“What?”

“There is light inside. It points to you. Look.” Bhiza held up the ball for Applejack to see better. It was a dark, almost black glass with a slightly chipped surface. Inside it pulsed a soft, thin beam of white light, pointing out from the center and straight at Applejack.

“Huh.” Applejack leaned back and forth a few times; the light followed her. She walked a circle around Bhiza; the light followed her. “What d’you think’s goin’ on with it? Why’s it pointin’ at me?”

“Does it seem like I know? This is magic. I do not know magic.” Bhiza stared at the sphere a few more seconds, then held it out to Applejack. “Touch it.”

“Touch it? Why? What if it does somethin’ funny?”

“What can it do?”

“I sure as hay don’t know. But it’s definitely magic, so… I dunno. It might do anythin’.”

“I am touching it,” Bhiza said defensively. “Nothing has happened.”

“It ain’t pointin’ at you.”

“It is like compass, but you are north. What can it do?”

“If it ain’t gonna do nothin’ when I touch it, why do you want me to touch it?”

Bhiza made big eyes. “Pleeeaaase?”

Applejack rolled her eyes, sighed, and lifted her hoof. But before she touched the sphere, she looked Bhiza in the eyes and said, “Anythin’ goes wrong, I’m blamin’ you.”

“Yes.”

Applejack took a deep breath, slowly let it out, and, with the hesitancy of somepony sticking their head into a beehive, delicately laid her hoof on the sphere.

And then, all of a sudden, nothing happened.

Applejack and Bhiza waited a few more seconds. Nothing continued to happen.

They waited a few more seconds. Inaction persisted.

Applejack withdrew her hoof, paused to be sure that nothing would keep happening, and snorted. “Well, that sure was a letdown.”

Bhiza bounced the sphere on her hoof. “Hmm. How is it pointing at you? Did someone do something to you?”

“Hey, I dunno,” Applejack said with a shrug. “I ain’t magic the same way Twilight is.”

“Hmm,” Bhiza said again. “So you do not know what this is?” She dropped the sphere in a pocket, fished around a little, and pulled out a small, vaguely C-shaped strip of brass. On one end sat a small jewel, barely a centimeter across, that glowed softly with a slowly pulsing inner light.

“Uh, no, not in the slightest.” Applejack took a closer look; everything was smooth, as if it’d been worn down from repeated contact with… something. “Where’d you find that?”

“In their supplies. But for this-” Bhiza tapped the gem. “-it could be jewelry common. It goes around your ear.”

“Your ear?”

“Yes. Like this.” Bhiza slid the strip around her ear so the gem sat in her ear canal. “It was strange, and I kuma!” Applejack jumped as Bhiza suddenly started grabbing at her ear and threw the strip to the ground. Holding her ear in her hooves, Bhiza muttered, “Kutomba…”

“You alright?” Applejack asked. “What happened?”

“Unff,” groaned Bhiza. “Loud. Loud very. Ow.”

Applejack frowned. Exactly how loud? She lowered her head next to the strip — probably a magical earpiece of some kind — and heard a second or so of very loud white noise before it suddenly stopped. “Dang. That is loud. And it just started all of a sudden? Nothin’ before it?”

“Yes.” Bhiza thumped her head a few times. “I am good, I think. Just loud very.” She shook her head. “Ow.”

“You’re sure you’re good?”

“Yes. I can walk. For now, that is good.”

“If you say so.” Applejack scooped up the earpiece. “Might as well keep this. That other one, too. Maybe Twilight’ll know what’s up with them. We are gettin’ there by tonight, right?”

“Yes.” Bhiza took the earpiece and dropped it into the same pocket as the sphere. “Near evening, if all goes good.”

Applejack looked over her shoulder at the furrow the crashing impundulu had left in the ground, at the carcass beyond, and snorted. “You’re temptin’ fate, y’know.”

Bhiza gave a helpless I don’t know look and shrugged. “It went good this far.”

“Yeah, well… C’mon, we can show those to Idube later. Right now, we gotta go help clean the camp up.”

20 - Heart of a Miner

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“You do realize, Your Highness, that you’re essentially heading straight into the lair of whoever’s trying to kill you?”

It was late morning and Twilight and Spike, followed by Stormwalker and Askari, were walking to the Imayini consulate. She’d briefed the three of them on her conclusions from last night, and the guards were both antsy about the prospect of what she was about to do. Spike, on the other hoof, seemed to be taking it just fine.

“I realized that a long time ago,” said Twilight. “But if I don’t do something worthwhile, I’ll just keep feeling worse and worse. Besides…” She forced some cheeriness into her voice. “When you get right down to it, a private theatre box is still a public location. This is a private one. Me getting killed here would narrow down the suspects quite a bit, so any attempted murder is unlikely. You’ve heard of the eye of the storm, right?”

“I still say it’s idiotic,” muttered Stormwalker.

“She has a point,” said Askari. “A small one, but a point. So long as she’s careful, it’d be difficult to hurt her in there and get away with it.”

“That doesn’t change my opinion at all.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Spike. (Twilight lightly smacked him on the back of his head.)

The door to the Imayini consulate didn’t look all that different from any of the other doors in the hall; it was maybe a touch more elaborate, and had a sign that translated to, “Imayini (Some Word Twilight Didn’t Recognize)”, but that was about it. If Livingstone hadn’t told her where to find it, Twilight would’ve missed it completely. Her brain running on autopilot, Twilight reached out for the knob that wasn’t there on the door, instead of using the pedal. And the moment her hoof touched the door, she felt the same full-body tingle she had after the bolt had nicked her the day before.

She yelped in shock, yanked her hoof back, and jumped away with a flap of her wings. Stormwalker and Askari shuffled to opposite sides to give her space. Twilight started to scramble backwards, but then she realized the tingling was already gone. She looked at her hoof, turned it over. It looked alright (not that it wouldn’t). She could cast sparks with no problem. She could hover with no problem. So wh-

“Twilight?” asked Spike.

“Are you alright, Your Highness?” inquired Stormwalker.

“Um, yes,” Twilight said, still looking at her hoof. “I think so.” She took a few steps forward and placed her hoof against the door again. The tingling returned. She withdrew it. The tingling vanished. Touched, returned, withdrew, vanished. Hmm. She touched the door and tried to cast sparks. Her magic slipped away from her. She withdrew her hoof and tried to cast sparks. No problem whatsoever. Hmm hmm.

Spike cleared his throat. “Uh, Twilight? What’re you doing?”

Now that she wasn’t distracted by someone shooting at her, Twilight could almost tell what was happening. It felt a bit like her magic was being… diverted, somehow. Redirected. Not to anywhere in particular; just someplace it wasn’t useful. The ground, maybe. Rather than getting shaped into spells, it would just pseudorandomly disperse. That wasn’t a bad idea, actually. Harder than simply blocking magic, but harder to overcome. On a whim, Twilight reached out and tried to grab the whole door with magic. Same result: her magic slid away and had no effect. If it was going into the ground (which was hard to tell), then she might be able to stop it by-

Sadly, Twilight’s investigation was cut short when Stormwalker suddenly had an intense coughing fit that, for some bizarre reason, sounded oddly like, “Get on with it.” Twilight sighed, gave one last look at the door, and stepped on the pedal to open it.

Immediately, she noticed the first difference between her temporary embassy and this permanent consulate: this suite had a lobby. It was very minimalistic and didn’t have much other than a receptionist’s desk and a few doors opening off to the sides, but there was no mistaking it for anything else. A lobby. Her own accommodations suddenly felt inadequate, even though their temporary nature meant that was the best she could have at the moment.

An receptionist was at the desk, an abada writing something down. Twilight knew to expect it, but she still looked oddly small, particularly since the desk was sized for her, but everything else was sized for zebras, Imayini being a multispecies company and all. Twilight figured it was something she’d get over soon enough.

Hearing the door open, the receptionist looked up, twitched, and straightened enough to gain an inch in height. She smiled, although it was clearly hiding some anxiety. “H-hello, Your Highness,” she said in a voice Twilight suspected was a bit more high-pitched than her usual one. “How can I help you?” Her eyes briefly flitted over each member of Twilight’s retinue, and it occurred to Twilight that her group must look very strange: an alicorn and a baby dragon guarded by a pegasus and a zebra. At least the receptionist seemed to be handling it well enough.

“Hello,” Twilight said. She stopped a few paces further from the desk than she normally would have so she wouldn’t tower over the abada. “I was wondering if I could have a personal conversation with some of the consuls or CEOs of Imayini. Any one will do.” Not entirely true, she wanted to talk with Mtendaji or Okubi, but close enough. “Just a diplomat-to-diplomat talk, no work involved.”

The receptionist blinked a few times. “I, I’m not sure,” she said. “They might be busy, a-”

“And I understand if that’s impossible,” Twilight said quickly. “I don’t want them to go out of their way to talk to me. I can come back later.” She’d’ve preferred not to, but she didn’t want to look like she was an entitled royal jerk.

Once again, the receptionist blinked a few times, then slowly released a breath. “No promises,” she said with a bit more confidence, “but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, um…” Thankfully, Twilight knew enough Zebran to read her nametag. Unthankfully, the name on there was rather complicated. “Visi-… -vyo-… -kuwa? Visivyokuwa.” She grinned awkwardly, hoping it wouldn’t look to insensitive of her to stumble over the name. Just because she was a princess and could get away with it didn’t mean she should do it. She opened her mouth to apologize.

“Call me Visi,” said the receptionist before the apology could start. “Everyone does. Now, if you’ll just give me a second…” She placed her hoof a gem inset into the desk and spoke into the air. “Ma’am? Princess Twilight Sparkle is here. Says she just wants to have a diplomat-to-diplomat talk.”

Visi paused and immediately, Twilight’s mind began racing. What sort of magic was in that gem? Sound transference of some kind, most likely. Two-way. Similar to voicepipes sometimes used in Equestria, Visi could talk and have her voice transmitted to whoever was on the other end, and they could talk back and, judging from her silence, have her hear them without someone else overhearing. And Visi’s horn wasn’t glowing, so the only magic required to use it was probably just in its creation. She’d have to look into that a bit, find out how it was controlled. What was it like on the other side, for instance? Did that side require any input?

Visi started talking again. “Just a personal talk. A getting-to-know-you type of conversation.” She looked quizzically up at Twilight, who nodded. Visi nodded back and continued, “No work or anything like that.”

She paused again, this time for longer. “I know, but she said she understood if you didn’t have the time. Maybe she’ll understand if you have to leave early.” Visi looked at Twilight again, who nodded again. “Yeah, she says she’s fine with that.”

Another short pause. Visi nodded and said, “Will do.” She took her hoof off the gem. “Consul Mhate only has a short time, but she’s willing to meet in the conference room.” She pointed off to one side. “Second door on the right, marked clearly, you can’t miss it. She’ll be there in a few minutes or so.”

“Thank you,” Twilight said with a nod. Not the greatest, but it would do. Plus, she was an abada; they might be able to answer her questions about the door, which might answer questions about the crossbow bolt, which might… allow for something. It’d depend on the answers.

Twilight opened the door Visi had indicated and stiffened slightly when she noticed two abada guards, easily identifiable as such by their dark gray armor. Her first thought was that they were going to kill her. Her first observation was that they were leaning against the wall, they weren’t holding their spears, they were talking with each other and hadn’t noticed her yet, and neither of them was wearing their helmets. Her second thought was that her first thought had been overly panicked.

“…so then I say to her,” said one guard, “‘If you’re gonna-’” And then he noticed Twilight and her retinue and snapped to attention. His right front hoof twitched back and forth a few times before he settled on doing a salute. His partner followed suit, right down to the twitching.

Twilight had to hold back a giggle; it looked silly (she heard Spike barely keeping his own laughs behind her), but it wouldn’t do for them to see her looking so… She wasn’t sure of the right word. “Cold” and “calloused” were a bit too strong. Un-regal? Common? None of those sounded right, either. Whatever the term, she needed to keep her composure. Her face stayed serious as she passed them, but she gave them a nod of acknowledgement.

Her eyes flicked to the spears. If the abada’s diversionary magic was common enough to be put into locks, would it be present in spearheads? Probably. An idea struck, and Twilight cast a sort of zero-effect spell; it’d spread out like water poured across a flat surface, but it wouldn’t actually do anything. Unless something else did something to it. Such as nullifying it in some way.

Twilight felt the tingle in the two spearheads, and the entire spell flexed slightly around them, like it was getting pulled towards them. Well, if she couldn’t stop whatever was blocking her magic, she could at least be aware of it. She cast the spell again, with a larger area. Aside from one or two things that felt like locks, those two spears were the only magic-countering things nearby. Still, Twilight resolved to periodically cast the spell during her conversation, if only to be on top of thi-

“Twilight!” hissed Spike. “Right here!”

Twilight stopped walking and took a few steps back to the door she’d almost passed. “Whoops.” She double-checked the sign. “(Some Word Twilight Didn’t Recognize) Room”. Promising. Just to be safe, Twilight recast the detection spell. No nullification inside. Promising.

But when Twilight pushed open the door, that didn’t mean she liked what she saw any more.

Okubi was sitting at one end of the long conference table, a stack of parchment on either side and a pen in her mouth. She was sketching away at something and didn’t look up from her work. In fact, if her ears hadn’t angled toward the group, Twilight would’ve thought she was unaware the Equestrians had entered the room at all.

But after a quick moment of apprehension, Twilight realized this wasn’t such a bad thing. Okubi was one of her two main suspects, right? She didn’t have any magic nullifiers on her. Physicality definitely wasn’t her thing. There was no way she could hope to take Twilight down here, alone. If Twilight examined her reactions closely, she might find some evidence of guilt or innocence.

That was a pretty big “if”, though, and, from what little Twilight knew of Okubi, she might not have a reaction at all. But it was better than nothing. Twilight cleared her throat. “Excuse me, but we’re going to have a… a non-business conversation in here with Mhate, if you don’t mind.” Kind of awkward, but what else was there to say?

Okubi didn’t look up or miss a beat in her drawing. “Very well. I shall not disturb you.” If she was surprised to hear Twilight’s voice instead of somebody else’s, it didn’t show in the slightest. For some reason, Twilight wondered if she played poker or whatever its Zebrabwean equivalent was.

Twilight took a seat at the table and magically lengthened the legs of the chair right next to her for Spike. With nothing better to do, she got a better look at Okubi. She still looked as scrawny as she had at the dinner, but there were a few key differences. Her clothes, instead of being nice and tailored, were ratty and loose, clearly meant more for comfort than appearance, with her position daring someone to complain about them. Her mane was unkempt; not greasy, just messy. Her muzzle was smeared with ink splatters, some only visible against her black stripes by their shine. It all added up to Okubi looking slightly less creepy than she had at the dinner. She still looked odd, but, Twilight had to admit, at least she didn’t look off.

“Wonder what she’s doing in here alone,” muttered Spike. “Can’t she do this in her office or whatever?”

“Spike, don’t talk about her like that,” Twilight whispered. “It’s not nice, and besides, she might be able to hear us.”

“I’m here because this is where I can focus at the moment,” Okubi said. “I also don’t care about what you say.”

Spike twitched in surprise, but recovered quickly. “Really? Not at all?” he scoffed.

“As of yet, you have no influence on my position or capabilities. You do not matter to me, so I do not care about you.”

“Friendly, aren’t ya?”

“Spike, stop it,” scolded Twilight. “We don’t need you getting into arguments with CEOs.” She hoped she didn’t need to add, Especially if they’re trying to kill us. Except Okubi had said Spike couldn’t affect her at all. Did that include Twilight as well? She might be lying to throw off suspicion, but that seemed awfully blunt for a lie. On a whim, Twilight cast her detection spell again. No change from last time.

“But-” Spike’s protest stopped in his throat, and he mumbled, “Fine.” He slouched in his chair, arms crossed, and glared at Okubi. Okubi didn’t respond.

Luckily, it was at that point that Mhate entered the room, alone and levitating a tray with several cups and what looked like a teapot in front of her. She inclined her head to Okubi and said, “Ma’am.” Laying the tray on the table, she took up a place across from Twilight and Spike. She smiled vaguely and said, “Just so you know, Your Highness, this, um, this is new to me. I, I usually don’t entertain guests. Not that it’s unwelcome,” she added quickly, “just that it’s new to me. I, I brought tea.” She tapped the teapot with a hoof. “And, um, if you ignore Okubi, she’ll ignore us.”

“I think you’re doing fine so far. I like tea,” Twilight assured her. “And please, just Twilight.”

Mhate began pouring and passing out tea. “Right. Just Twilight. And…” She pointed a hoof at Spike, paused, and frowned. “I know you’re Spike the dragon, but I can’t remember if you had a title, sorry.”

“I’m her number one assistant,” Spike answered, “but I don’t know if that’s really a title, or just what I am.”

Mhate tapped her chin for a moment. “You could, um, be a steward. How’s that sound?”

“Steward Spike…” Spike grinned. “I like it. But just Spike’s fine, too.”

“Good. Good.” Mhate sipped at her tea. “Just so you know, I’ve got a meeting to leave for in about twenty minutes, but at this point, it’s just formalities, so I’m not worried. Just so you know.” Another sip. “So, um, is there any particular reason you wanted to talk? Or is it just because? Anything new with you?”

Twilight took a moment to think. Mhate hadn’t heard about the assassination attempts on her and Spike. Probably. Should she tell her? Probably not, Twilight decided. No need to worry her. “Not really, but there was one thing.” She took the teacup in her magic and subtly cast a poison-detecting spell. The tea was clean in all cups, so she took a quick sip. It had a slightly bitter aftertaste, but other than that, was pleasantly strong. “I tried to open your front door with magic, and it… I don’t know, it felt weird, and my magic just sort of vanished.” She looked briefly at Okubi for any sort of reaction, but Okubi was as impassive as ever.

“Oh, you do it differently? The door’s just, um, grounded.”

That was a new term for Twilight (at least in the context of magic; she heard it all the time in relation to electricity). “Uh… grounded?”

“Yyyyeah, grounded,” said Mhate slowly. “You know, connected to the ground? We can’t just have anybody who wants to flicking open the door with magic.”

“This is new to me.”

Mhate blinked, then laughed. “Ha! Moves the sun, doesn’t know what grounding is.” Twilight’s wings twitched slightly and Spike’s eyes narrowed, but Mhate didn’t notice. “Sorry if that sounds insulting, just…” She shrugged. “In Wilayabada, that’d be really strange. How do ponies block magic?”

“Just basic spells to nullify incoming magic,” said Twilight. “Cancel it out via mirrored energy. You… you know about those, right?” Hopefully, the two of them were at least on the same page. It’d be difficult to talk about magic if neither of them knew what the other was saying.

“Well, yes, but…” Mhate cocked her head. “Those’re just so crude. If they work, great, but… it’s not very elegant.”

Something Twilight could sympathize with, to a certain extent, but still. “To me, your system seems a bit… overkill-y. Why are you putting something that powerful on plain old locks? How can you do that?”

“Because compared to Wilayabada, the development of magic in Equestria is most likely stagnant and doesn’t require such an effective defense.”

Twilight, Spike, and Mhate all looked at Okubi. She was still scratching out designs and didn’t give a single sign that she’d spoken. But she had spoken; no one else had that slightly scratchy voice.

“What makes you say that?” Twilight asked slowly. “You barely know anything about Equestria.”

“What little I do know is just enough.” Okubi let the pen drop from her mouth and looked Twilight in the eyes. “Consider. Equestria has existed with minimal change in leadership for over a millennium. That provides a certain amount of stability, true? But if everything in a country is fine, then there is no need to change. If there is no need to change, there is no need to innovate. You have been united and had peace for a long time. Which means you have had a status quo for long time. Innovation comes when the status quo is shaken.” As she spoke, she barely moved at all, except for her mouth. This included a lack of blinking.

“Abadas, on the other hoof, lacked such unity for much of their history. The different city-states would be at each other’s throats, constantly trying to get a leg up on each other. Moreover, the fact that every abada can be assumed to know magic means that, logically, a highly effective defense against magic would be quite sought after, as such a weapon would cripple the opposition beyond repair. In Equestria, where the similar use of magic is far less relied upon, it would have much less of an impact and have far fewer opportunities to be used; the lack of general usability would make any focused efforts into such a specialized weapon wasteful. If I heard correctly, unicorns are just uncommon enough that ‘good enough’ truly is good enough in most situations. In Wilayabada, the omnipresence of magic means that ‘good enough’ is rapidly eclipsed by ‘better’ is rapidly eclipsed by ‘better yet’ and so on, whether in increased strength or decreased cost, until diminishing returns set in and getting to ‘even better yet’ is not worth it, resulting in a low-cost but highly effective defense against magic anyone can use. Different priorities lead to different answers for the same question. Did you imagine that abada magic would evolve in the same way as your own?”

And without further ado, Okubi took up the pen in her mouth again and went right back to sketching.

Everyone stared at Okubi, who remained supremely indifferent. Eventually, Mhate spluttered, “Just where the heck did that come from? That’s more non-business talk than I’ve heard from you all year!”

“It was an analysis that begged to be said,” responded Okubi, not looking up.

“It still kinda came outta nowhere,” muttered Spike.

“Actually, it came out of my mouth.”

Okubi was so expressionless that Twilight couldn’t tell if Okubi was joking or missing the point, both of which seemed unlikely (somehow). Before Spike could snipe back, she said loudly, “So anyway. Grounding. How does it work?”

“Weeeeell…” Mhate rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t know the specifics, I was, um, always terrible at arcanodynamics, but from what I can tell, it basically works by… by…” She looked at Okubi and frowned. “What?”

Twilight suddenly realized the scritching of Okubi’s pen had stopped. Okubi herself was staring expressionlessly at Mhate, not drawing even though her pen was still in her mouth. Mhate and Okubi stared back and forth for a moment. Eventually, Okubi said, “Nothing.” She lowered her head and went back to sketching.

Mhate sighed. Twilight and Spike exchanged glances. Mhate continued, “I, uh, think it works by… moving magical energies from spells into the ground or something like that. It just shifts the way it all flows. Or something like that.” She shrugged. “You can’t cast a shield spell if the magic never reaches the shield.”

“Huh.” Twilight nudged her teacup. The explanation was probably simplified, but if the basics were true, then that would explain a lot. That tingling would’ve been her magic getting redirected; technically, she felt a similar feeling in her horn whenever she used magic, but by now, her brain would tune it out unless she focused on it. And if-

“You seem awfully quick to share your defense against magic with a relative unknown,” Okubi said to Mhate without looking up. “One more powerful than any known abada, no less.”

“It’s not like she’s our enemy,” Mhate said. She took a sip of tea. “Besides, I don’t know how it works. No offense to you,” she said to Twilight, “I’m sure you’re perfectly intelligent, but I don’t think you could work out how to do it based just on that.”

On the contrary, Twilight’s mind was already getting lots of ideas and away from her. It was complicated, incredibly so, but magic wasn’t her special talent for nothing. If her ideas were correct, the main difficulty with one person casting it was that the very nature of grounding meant you had to be ludicrously careful to not ground yourself by accident, and even then you were risking-

Wait. Okubi had disapproved of Mhate telling Twilight the basic mechanics of grounding (which was reasonable)… but hadn’t actually stopped her, or even tried to stop her beyond a vaguely disapproving glare. It wouldn’t be hard for her to do so — she was Mhate’s boss, after all — but if she didn’t think it necessary to stop Mhate, then she probably didn’t think it was that dangerous that Twilight know what grounding was. So did that make Okubi any less suspicious? Twilight was leaning towards “slightly”; Okubi seemed fairly intelligent, not the kind of person to just let incredibly dangerous information like that slip away. And it wasn’t like she was having an off day, not with that glare. It didn’t rule Okubi out completely, but it di-

Spike kicked her under the table and snapped her back to reality. She blinked, coughed, and tried to smile. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I, I can get distracted.” She took a sip of tea, using her telekinesis to hide the casting of another detection spell. The spears were gone outside, but nothing new had come into range.

Mhate nodded. “Mmhmm. I know the feeling. So, five thousand miles of ocean between here and Equestria? Sounds like a lot.”

“It took a week and a half of constant sailing,” confirmed Twilight. “And I swear I could still feel the shore tilting when we got back to land.”

“It wasn’t just you,” said Spike. “It took me a little while to get my balance when we arrived in Bandari Mji.”

“Which, I, um, suppose means you got your sea legs,” said Mhate. “Did you really come over here just to form an alliance?”

Twilight cocked her head. “Yeah. Why?”

“Well, it’s, uh…” Mhate ran a hoof along the rim of her cup. “Five thousand miles is a bit much for nothing more than that. You didn’t want anything?”

“I didn’t know enough about Zebrabwean to know if it had anything Equestria wanted. Can’t I form alliances for the sake of forming alliances?”

“Like I said, five thousand miles is, um, a long way to go and expect nothing but friendship in return.”

“Well, I can understand trade,” said Twilight, “but that’s not the only thing. Saying ‘nothing but friendship’ is like saying ‘nothing but food’. It’s not everything, but it’s an important part of our lives.”

“And friendship is pretty powerful in Equestria,” added Spike. “Like, ‘saved the world plenty of times already’ powerful.”

“Still…”

Twilight bit back a groan. Money was important, yes, but the world didn’t revolve around it. “Exactly why is me not coming here for money so hard to grasp?”

“Abadas like profit,” put in Okubi. “A lot.” For some reason, Twilight found it really annoying the way Okubi refused to look up when talking. It was like she was ignoring all of them, even though she obviously wasn’t.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Mhate said to Okubi.

“I did no such thing. I am simply stating the facts. If I thought it was a bad thing, I wouldn’t be working here. I like profit, too.”

“There’s more to diplomacy than just countries giving money to each other,” Twilight said.

“True, true,” said Mhate. She started tapping a hoof on the table. “But if you don’t have any money, then you can’t do anything, and coming here with no expectation of money is a sunk co-”

Twilight held up a hoof to stop Mhate and turned to Okubi. “Exactly how much do abadas like profit?” she asked.

Okubi stopped drawing and looked up. “Corporations hold considerable sway in Wilayabada, well beyond what you can see in Zebrabwe. In fact…” She paused, and the free end of the pen bounced up and down as she nibbled on the other end. Eventually, she said, “To drum up business, private military corporations occasionally give out coupons.”

…Okay, what? No. That… No no no. “PMCs…” Twilight said, “give out… coupons.”

“So, what, they have ‘hire one mercenary, get one free’ deals?” asked Spike.

“And half-offs, and x-percent-offs, and lowered rates for extended periods of employment, and everything else one can imagine.” Okubi went back to sketching.

Twilight stared at Mhate, who simply shrugged. “Sales, um, attract customers. Why not?”

“…Because they’re soldiers. You can’t put ‘buy one, get one’ deals on soldiers.”

“…Why not?”

“They kill people!” said Spike.

“Yes, and? You’re paying them to, uh, to kill people anyway. If you’re already putting a monetary value on life, then what’s, what’s the harm in offering discounts?”

“Well, it’s…” But Mhate had a point. Anyone who hired mercenaries to kill someone would like to save money on it if they could. The problem was the hirer, not the hirees. At least, not completely. There was still the whole ‘getting paid to kill people’ issue.

“And, besides,” said Mhate, “PMCs provide a lot more services than just killing people. Like, um, temporary high-grade security. You know, basically rent-a-cops. Or rent-a-soldiers, I guess.” She ran a hoof around the rim of her teacup. “Really, a PMC is a business, and it does business things to make money.”

“I guess. It still seems weird.”

With no one offering another line of discussion, there was a second of silence, then Mhate coughed and said, “Sorry, but I, I have to get going.” She slid off her seat. “Nice talking with the two of you, at any rate. Hopefully, we can get together again sometime for longer.”

“Same here,” Twilight said with a nod. “Be seeing you.” After Mhate left, Twilight cast the detection spell one last time. Nothing. They were clear.

As they left the consulate, Twilight’s mind was racing. That had turned out much better than she expected. She’d gotten reason to discount Okubi on her suspect list, at least a little, which left Mtendaji as the most likely candidate. Maybe she could think a bit about the how and why. More interesting, though, was knowledge of how she’d lost her magic. It was a very basic knowledge, to be sure, but it was a place to start. She was already coming up with several ideas to block it. Unfortunately, without something to experiment with, she couldn’t actually test her ideas. It was a shame she couldn’t stand outside the door and investigate its reaction to her magic, and she didn’t have any oth-

“Askari, there wouldn’t be any chance we could get that crossbow quarrel out of evidence, would there?”

Twilight peered closely at the bolt in the embassy, Spike and Livingstone watching her. It didn’t look unusual, but the arrowhead still staunchly resisted her attempts to manipulate it with magic. Just the arrowhead, though; the shaft behaved normally when exposed to magic. Getting the bolt out of evidence had been surprisingly easy (although Askari suspected that was only because Twilight was a princess; “Anyone else, and you would’ve been laughed off.”), and they didn’t need it back, and now Twilight had all the time in the world to study it.

She touched the arrowhead (square, as on Equestrian crossbows); her magic was diverted. She stopped touching it. Her magic returned. Hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm.

“Are you okay, Twilight?” Livingstone asked. “You’ve been staring at that for quite a while now, yes, and I’m wondering if…”

“I’m fine,” Twilight said, not taking her eyes off the bolt. “I’m just studying it. This…” She turned it over to examine it from another angle, even though it all looked the same. “This is a very interesting application of magic. The basic principles are pretty much the foundation of every single type of magic, ever, but how they’re being used…” She clicked her tongue slightly as she thought. “Pushing magic like this is usually only done with your own, not somepony else’s. It’s a lot more complex, but it’s very effective.”

“I suppose it might be,” Livingstone said. Twilight suspected she was trying to hide a “what in Celestia’s name did you just say?” reaction. “So what will you do about it?”

“I’m gonna try to block it.”

Livingstone blinked. “Wha- block it? Your Highness, um, Twilight, you do realize that abadas have presumably had a while to work on that… grounding, and they will have their own defenses against it, yes?”

“I have indeed realized that,” Twilight answered. She twirled the bolt in front of her. “I’m still going to try. I’ve got some ideas to test, with plenty of backups in case they don’t work out.”

Spike spoke up. “And Twilight’s smart, and I mean really smart. If anyone can do it, she can.”

“Perhaps,” said Livingstone, “but simply being smart is not eno-”

“Twilight’s not just smart. She’s so smart, she makes other smart people look dumb. Did I tell you about the time she created a dimensional portal in a few minutes using nothing but a magic mirror and a book?”

Livingstone’s jaw went slack. “What? No. That is… No.”

“Seriously,” Spike said, nodding. “Right, Twilight?”

“You’re exaggerating a little, Spike,” Twilight said as she rolled her eyes. “The connection was already there; I just made sure it stayed open. The transuniversal equivalent of a doorstop. And it took a little bit of extra machinery to work, not just the mirror and the book.”

“But… you did make it, yes?” said Livingstone. “With those two objects and a few extras? In that time?”

“Yeah.”

Livingstone started blinking a lot. “Very well, then. That… that is quite… quite impressive, yes. Perhaps you can counter this… grounding.”

“I hope so,” Twilight responded. “If I can, then we can all step outside without worrying about assassins too much, and I can place some wards on this place to keep bad guys out. Which I probably should’ve done in the first place, but now I can do it better, at least.”

“That would be nice… Our guards wouldn’t have to stay up to all hours of the night…”

“Exactly. And that’s just for starters.” Twilight rolled her shoulders and flexed her wings. Time to get her study on. She pulled open the door to her room and headed inside. “I’m going to start sciencing this as much as I can. Don’t worry if I don’t come out before dinner.”

As the door closed, Livingstone yelled, “That’s not exactly reassur-” Click.

21 - Down in the Valley

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Idube frowned at the glass sphere, turned it over. “And, as far as you can tell, this is all it does?” she asked, tapping it.

“Yeah,” said Applejack. “I mean, with magic, it might do somethin’ else, but I can’t use magic. At least, not like that.” She shrugged.

“Hnng.” Idube turned the sphere over again and looked at it from different angles, as if that would make it change in some way. The light inside remained solidly pointed at Applejack. “Although this does most likely confirm my suspicions,” she said. “They are after you and, most likely, Zecora as well. I do not know why, but if this-” She tapped the sphere. “-can track you, then the rider was presumably sent after you.”

“So… what’re we gonna do?” Applejack asked.

Idube had snorted. “Not change our plans in the slightest and keep moving. We can see further attackers coming, and the Bonde Kubwa is near. There, at least, we will have safety in numbers and witnesses. Out here…” She looked around at the almost-bare plains. “We would simply vanish.”

“That ain’t gonna take a real long time, is it?” Applejack rubbed one hoof against another. “I don’t wanna be out here, just waitin’ for someone else to jump on us.”

Idube looked at the sun, the first shreds of which were poking above the horizon. She rubbed her chin for a moment, then said, “Just after midday at the absolute latest. More likely, an hour before.”

“Ah. Alright.” Relief began dripping back into Applejack. She could live with that. “And from there, how long’s it gonna take to get to Kulikulu?”

“That depends on traffic in the Bonde Kubwa, but we should reach it around sundown. We will be fine.”

Sunset. All she had to do was survive until sunset. And immediately, Applejack wondered if she was overreacting a bit; “survive” until sunset? It wasn’t like they were being besieged by foes on all sides. But at the same time, all the other problems they’d had during the trip had been natural ones, not a zebra deliberately, personally trying to kill them.

“In any case, I doubt they are well-organized,” continued Idube. “The impundulu lacked armor. When iimpundulu are properly prepared for battle, armor is one of the first things checked. We should count ourselves lucky that we did not need to deal with an armored aerial bombardment.”

“If it did have armor, could we’ve brought it down?”

Idube shrugged. “That would depend on the armor. At best, yes, but with some difficulty. Thrown spears still have a good amount of penetrative power.” She frowned and said to herself, “Can mercenaries even afford impundulu armor? It is quite expensive…”

Zecora didn’t know what the two objects were, either. “I’ve never seen things of this kind,” she said, squinting at the earring thing. “They’ve no more functions you can find?” She held it up to her ear, then flinched and pulled away as the static blasted out again.

“Nope. Me and Bhiza thought they might do somethin’ if we had magic, but…” Applejack shrugged. “She’s a zebra, I’m an earth pony.”

Zecora nodded. “That is quite a logical guess; a shame it’s one we cannot test.” She handed the earring back to Applejack. “And you get no results from an unperformed test, so do not let this cause you much undue distress.”

Zecora was right, Applejack reflected, but that didn’t make her any less nervous about the possible functions of the artifacts. She glared at the earring, trying to make it reveal its secrets, then sighed and dropped it in a saddlebag. She needed to help clean up the last of the camp so they could get moving.

Unfortunately, while they didn’t run into any more bandits, the long walking gave Applejack plenty of time to think things over and stew about them. Reaching the Bonde Kubwa shortly before noon, just as Idube had said, reduced Applejack’s fears a little, but she’d spent so much time thinking about them during the trip that it didn’t do much.

“Applejack,” said Bhiza.

The caravan was taking a break on a ridge above the Bonde Kubwa. Applejack was sitting right at the edge, staring down at the enormous valley below. It looked beautiful, with its winding river and its network of towns, but she couldn’t get the attack out of her head, no matter how much she tried. Just… why? Why would someone try to kill her? Technically, she wasn’t even the diplomat, she was just an aide. Who hadn’t done anything yet, even.

“Applejack,” said Bhiza.

And what was Twilight doing? She could handle herself, obviously, better than almost anypony in Equestria, but Applejack couldn’t help it; she was still nervous. Half of her brain told her that Twilight was perfectly okay, and much better off than she herself was, but the other half told her that Twilight was, at worst, dead, and, at best, alone in the middle of Kulikulu with no allies and somebody attempting to kill her. Hay, if Livingstone had been killed, she’d barely even be able to speak the language.

“Applejack,” said Bhiza.

Of course, they were close to the end now, close enough that she could see Kulikulu from across the valley, a large city blanketing an area of the mountain slopes beyond. She’d be seeing Twilight in a few hours. Eight or nine? Something like that. That wasn’t a huge amount of time, but it wasn’t exactly tiny, ei-

“Applejaaaaaaack!” bellowed Bhiza.

“Whaaaaat?!” bellowed Applejack, whirling on her.

Bhiza tilted her head. “You worry too much.”

“I know,” Applejack muttered. “Can’t help it.” She sighed, folded her ears back, and looked back down at the valley.

“What do you worry about?”

“Everythin’,” Applejack said. “It’s- That attack, it hurt two zebras, and it’s all ‘cause of me. If-”

Bhiza smacked Applejack in the face. It was a light smack and didn’t hurt, but a smack to the face was a smack to the face. Applejack eyed Bhiza as she rubbed her cheek. “Just what in tarnation was that for?”

“It is not because of you,” Bhiza said.

“Sure it is. I-”

Bhiza smacked Applejack again. “Is not.”

“If I say it is, are y’all gonna smack me again?”

“Yes.” Bhiza raised her hoof back.

Applejack sighed. “Fine. Why ain’t it my fault?”

Bhiza put her hoof back on the ground. “What did you do?”

“…Say what?”

“If it was your fault, what did you do?”

Was this some kind of joke? “I… I didn’t do anythin’, Bhiza. You know that. They just showed up an-”

“So you could not do something differently to change it.”

“Well, no! It’s-”

“Then why is it your fault?” Bhiza asked, her forelegs spread wide.

“Well, it’s- I-” At a loss for words, Applejack stammered to a halt. “It’s- That rider came for me! If I hadn’t been there, neither would they!”

“What did you do to make them come?”

“We went over this,” Applejack said, rolling her eyes, “I didn’t do nothin’, th-”

“Then it is their fault,” Bhiza said, lightly poking Applejack in the chest, “not yours. You-” Poke. “-did-” Poke. “-nothing.”

Applejack batted Bhiza’s hoof away before she could poke again. “It’s-” She cut herself off and looked Bhiza in the eyes. There was nothing there but indignation and worry. No lies, at any rate. “…Thanks,” Applejack said quietly.

“What more?” asked Bhiza. “That is not all, yes?”

“Not much,” Applejack said, “but there’s that… that ball and that ear thing. Just, what if they do somethin’ bad? I mean, they ain’t yet, and they probably won’t, but…” She shrugged.

“Why are you worried about this?” Bhiza asked, pulling out the sphere again. “It is just-” Then she froze and started staring at the sphere.

“What’s the matter?” said Applejack. But she took a look at the sphere and immediately saw the matter.

The light pointing at Applejack was still there. But another one had appeared; it was faint, barely visible in the sun, and yet it was definitely there. Instead of Applejack, it was pointing off in a random direction; not even at anybody, since it was angled slightly up and away from the ground.

Applejack decided to look down the line at the same time Bhiza did and they smacked their heads together. After a few quick back and forths of “I’m sorry, you go.” and “No, I am sorry, you go.”, Applejack decided that she’d go and look. Placing her head behind the sphere, she followed the line to see that- “It’s pointin’ at Kulikulu.”

“It is?” Bhiza took her turn to look. “Huh.”

“So where’d that come from all of a sudden?” Applejack knew what Bhiza would say — I do not know — but she was just voicing her own thoughts on the matter. Where had it come from?

But Bhiza didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything. She was still looking, and she was a lot more focused than Applejack had been. After a while, she said, “It points to… to king’s house.”

“To the palace?”

“Yes. Palace.” Bhiza took a few shuffling sideways steps, keeping a close eye on the light. It didn’t change position at all, as far as Applejack could see, but if it was pointing at Kulikulu, it shouldn’t. “Is Twilight in palace?”

“I… I dunno. She might be. Right now? Can’t say. Why? Y’think it’s pointin’ at her, too?”

“I do not know.”

“And why now? Why not out there, in the Serembarti?” Applejack took another look at the sphere. Aside from its dimness, the second light didn’t look at all different from the first. “And why’s it so faint?”

“I do not know.” Bhiza clicked her tongue a few times, then her ears went up. “It points to magic,” she said, turning to Applejack with a grin. “Zebras are not magic. You are. Twilight is. This is pointing to you and maybe Twilight. It does not point to zebras. This…” She wiggled the sphere under Applejack’s nose. “…points to magic.”

“That…” Applejack tapped the ground a few times. “Yeah, that really might work. And the rider on the impundulu has it beca-”

But Bhiza took over. “Zebra that wants to kill you-” (Applejack cringed; Bhiza didn’t notice.) “-gives this to rider. They find you in Serembarti with it. They kill you.” (Applejack cringed again.) “Easy!” Then Bhiza frowned. “But where do they first get ball magical?”

Applejack already had an idea. “Didn’t you say there were these, I dunno, abadas or whatever, and they had magic? Maybe your zebras asked them for a magic tracker.”

“Yes,” Bhiza said after a short pause. “Maybe.” She looked at the sphere again, thoughtful instead of curious. “And lights bright or dim?”

“I dunno. Range? Power sensin’?” Applejack shrugged. “Twilight’s real powerful, so maybe she can set it off before I can, even if she’s real far away. And her guards are pegasi; they might show up on there as we get closer.”

“Ha! Yes!” Bhiza dropped the sphere back in her saddlebags with a grin. “That is it. We are smart, Applejack.”

“I dunno,” Applejack said with a shrug. “We just fol-”

“Wait,” interrupted Bhiza. “Your guards were pegasi?” she asked slowly.

“Um. Yeah,” Applejack said, blinking. “Wh-”

And then Bhiza was right up in Applejack’s face. “You did not ask them how they can stand on clouds?” Her voice was borderline mournful.

“No,” Applejack said as she shuffled away from Bhiza. “It’s, it’s just somethin’ they do. I ain’t never thought about it.”

Bhiza made a sound like wet metal scraping on wet metal and buried her face in the ground, muttering Zebran nothings. Applejack huffed and went back to staring out over the valley.

The trip down into the Bonde Kubwa was easy and safe. The slopes were gentle, and it wasn’t long before they had paved roads. Untamed nature wasn’t bad, far from it, but when it came to cart-pulling, Applejack had never realized just how much she missed paved roads.

One thing she hadn’t missed was zebras staring at her. It started small; they only met a few other zebras on the road, but they all stared at the small orange equine they hadn’t seen before. That was easy to ignore. But as they got further and further into the valley and the traffic grew denser and denser, more and more zebras were staring at her and it got harder and harder to ignore. It wasn’t that they were aggressive or insulting; they were just always there and Applejack didn’t like being the center of attention. She started wanting to pull her hat over her eyes, lower her head and disappear. But she held on and kept her head high (relatively speaking); if she was going to do any actual ambassading, she’d have to get used to it.

Bhiza noticed the first part. “Hide in cart,” she suggested. “I will pull you.”

“Bhiza,” Applejack said with an eyeroll, “I ain’t hidin’ just ‘cause some zebras ain’t seen me before.”

“…Why not?”

“‘Cause I’m supposed to be an ambassador, and that ain’t what ambassadors do! If I keep hidin’ all the way, it’ll be like, I dunno, like I’m scared to be an ambassador.”

“Are you?”

“Sure, but not in that way. I can live with a few stares.”

And so Applejack didn’t hide in the cart, and zebras kept staring, and she adjusted. She’d never be able to fully ignore it, not completely, but at least it wasn’t malicious. Bhiza still kept trying to get her to hide in a cart, though.

Once they were actually a good ways into the valley, Applejack was struck by how much it felt like Equestria; the jungle and the Serembarti had felt alien to her, but this was the precise opposite. Ignore the monochromatic inhabitants, ignore their stripes, and Applejack had been in several river valleys not too different from the Bonde Kubwa back home. Smaller, to be sure, but they were still regions with their inhabitants clustered into a series of communities focused on a river, with a web roads of varying degrees of maintenance connecting them and farms in the spaces between.

The farms in particular stood out for her. Crops aside, they felt exactly like farms in Equestria, with their general air of productive toil. When Applejack managed to catch a quick look at some of the tools, they even looked nearly identical. Zebras used them in the same ways. They tilled and watered the fields the same way.

It gave Applejack pause. When she saw something like this in Equestria, she didn’t think about how much it was like Sweet Apple Acres. Why was she comparing everything to Equestria? And she didn’t do anything like this way back in Bandari Mji. It wasn’t her not caring about the zebras’ culture; hearing about what Zebrabwe was like from Bhiza was one of the best parts of the trip for her. And yet, here she was, completely ignoring it all in favor of comparisons to Equestria. Why?

They stopped for a while in one of the first towns they came across, a small riverside one called Idolobha. It had a hospital, and Idube wanted to get the two wounded zebras to a place to recover. They weren’t going to die, far from it, but they’d be better off with professional medical treatment. As the wounded were getting their places arranged in the hospital, the rest of the caravan dispersed a little throughout Idolobha.

Applejack and Bhiza found themselves on a small balcony-type thing right next to the river. Lots of zebras were staring at Applejack, but she didn’t notice. She was staring at the river, across the river, at her shore, at the opposite shore, thinking, trying to figure out why she was so fixated on Equestria all of a sudden. And then she got it.

“You are worrying again,” Bhiza noted.

“It ain’t that bad this time,” Applejack said. And it really wasn’t. “I think I’m just a bit homesick.”

“Homesick?”

“I miss Equestria.”

“Oh.” Bhiza shuffled her hooves back and forth for a moment. “Do you… not like Zebrabwe?”

“No!” Applejack said quickly. “No, I like it just fine. I just miss the little things from back home. The things that make it home, y’know?” She kicked a loose pebble into the river. “All the lands’re unfamiliar to me. All the critters’re unfamiliar to me. Even a lot of the plants’re unfamiliar to me. I ain’t seen another pony in days, and, yeah, y’all’ve accepted me, but zebras’re still a bit big and intimidatin’.”

“You are strong magically and I am not,” Bhiza said with a giggle, “and I scare you?”

“It’s easy to forget y’ain’t magic, and every last one of y’all’s still bigger’n me. You don’t scare me, just…” Applejack scratched her head. “You make me feel small.”

“Oh.” Bhiza paused, then smirked. “You are small.”

“Thanks for remindin’ me.” Applejack swatted at Bhiza with her hat. “But I mean, it’s just, it makes me miss home, you know? It ain’t bad, but it also ain’t home.”

“Ah. I understand. Do you have family you are missing?”

Applejack nodded. “Three of ‘em. There’s my granny, Granny Smith, my older brother, Big Macintosh — he’s even bigger than some of y’all-” (Bhiza whistled.) “-and my little sister, Apple Bloom. They’re all doin’ alright, though.” She looked at Bhiza. “What about you? You got any family in these parts?”

“No siblings, but my parents are still Wokhala. I see they sometimes, but they are… nomadic, so I do not know when.”

“Oh. That’s interestin’.”

“Yes.”

Silence.

“This ain’t workin’, is it?” Applejack said with a sigh.

Bhiza kicked at the ground. “No.”

“Shoulda known. You can’t distract yourself from home by talkin’ ‘bout home.” Applejack looked at the river. “I guess what I really need is for you to distract me with not-home stuff somehow.”

“…Applejack?”

“Yeah?” Applejack asked as she turned to Bhiza.

Applejack’s hat was knocked off as Bhiza grabbed her and pulled her into a forceful kiss.

Bhiza may not have had an earth pony’s strength, but she was still strong, pressing their lips together hard, and she wasn’t the least bit shy about it. Applejack’s brain stalled; she was too shocked to do anything besides flail, and whenever she tried to form a coherent thought, it stalled again. When Bhiza broke off a few seconds later, she was grinning. “Are you distracted?”

Applejack started blinking a lot and coughed. “Just… just what in the hay was that?”

“Distraction.”

“I didn’t mean like that!”

“Did it work?”

“Well… I-I guess, but-”

“Then you are distracted. What is problem?” Bhiza continued grinning like a loon.

“Y’don’t just- just go and do that!”

“But I did.”

“B-but…” Applejack picked up her hat and slapped it back on her head. “I, I don’t even like you that way! You’re just makin’ things awkward!”

Bhiza laughed. “I have known you for days four only. I do not like you that way, too.” Then suddenly her face turned ultra-serious and she leaned right up next to Applejack, her voice low. “Or maybe… I do and I am lying to kiss you without you knowing my feelings.” She started grinning again and spoke in a stage whisper. “Or maybe not. I will never tell!”

“But… Bhiza, c’mon. That ain’t cool.”

“It is not warm, too.”

“No, I…” Applejack groaned and rubbed her forehead. This was not what she wanted at the moment. Of all the silly things Bhiza could’ve done… “Okay. So you’re distractin’ me. Couldn’t you have done somethin’ else? Somethin’ not so personal?”

“No! Yes! Maybe!” Bhiza laughed. “I will never tell! Never.”

Applejack groaned again. “Fine, then. I’m distracted. Not the way I wanted, but I’m distracted. Just don’t do it again, alright?”

“No promises!”

“Seriously, Bhiza, you ca-”

“Come. We should go back to others.” Bhiza broke into a brisk trot and quickly vanished into the crowd.

Applejack bolted after her. “Bhiza!”

22 - Out on Patrol

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Twilight walked around the table, re-triple-checking that the shield surrounding it was good. It hummed slightly from the extra magic Twilight had put in. Everything seemed to be in order. “Test 42D,” she muttered to herself, for no reason other than she wanted to. “Color filtering. If my hypothesis is correct, upon contact with the bolt, the energy within the shield should decohere and bleed away into the surrounding area over the course of just under five seconds. As it does so, the specific mechanism in the loss of energy will cause the color to redshift from magenta to red to infrared and below. Beginning…” She picked up the quarrel in her magic, careful to avoid the arrowhead. “Now.” She tapped the head to the shield.

The change was slow, but immediately noticeable. The shield’s integrity began weakening and its color started reddening. Twilight counted under her breath. “One one-thousand…”

After a few tests, Twilight had found that “grounding” was a surprisingly accurate term. Rather than trying to keep magic from moving, as in Equestria’s magical defenses, the quarrel redirected the magic to the earth, like a grounded electrical circuit. Technically, the forms for spells — shields, telekinesis, what have you — were still there, but the magic was flowing along a much easier route. It was actually very clever, as it could work with somepony of any amount of power. From Twilight’s tests, it would only prevent a unicorn from using magic if the arrowhead actually made contact with them, and the grounding would only last as long as the contact was maintained or (presumably; she hadn’t tested it) if an actual wound was made. Simply passing through a spell would disrupt the spell, but leave the unicorn untouched, metaphysically speaking.

“Two one-thousand…” All traces of blue were completely gone, and the shield was a somewhat gaudy red.

But there was a catch: just as magic could flow down to the earth, it could also flow up from the earth. And making magic come up from the earth was something earth ponies did every day. It was where their non-biological strength came from, how they made plants grow. All Twilight had to do was weave a little earth pony magic into her spells in just the right way and — hopefully — once the unicorn magic was flowing down, the earth pony magic would push it back up, and everything would go on as normal, following a sort of magical version of Kirchhoof’s current law. There’d be no defense against it because abadas didn’t use earth pony magic.

“Three one-thousand…” The shield was a very dark, very faint red, almost invisible. Twilight placed her hoof on it so she could tell when it was gone gone, as opposed to just out of sight.

But although Twilight’s first few attempts to block the grounding with earth pony magic had been successful, she didn’t want to just jump out and use it like that. She had to know exactly how it worked and be sure of her guesses to avoid any more unpleasant surprises. Being sure meant testing. Twilight had tried all sorts of different arrangements of different types of magic, seeing what did what because of what. And after hours of work, she was on a roll; this was quite the fruitful experiment group, and she was quickly learning grounding’s strengths and limitations.

“Four one-thousand…” Twilight could barely feel the shield beneath her hoof and had to resist the urge to push; pushing might make it collapse prematurely.

And that wasn’t even getting into what would happen if it was applied in reverse. Pure unicorn magic wouldn’t work so well, not when she was the only one using it, but mixing it with earth pony magic could do a lot. Hypothetically speaking, she might be able to single-hoofedly ground anypony near her. Or any abadas. And since an abada or a unicorn alone wouldn’t be able to ground someone, any would-be assassins would be taken completely off-guard. It made Twilight feel quite happy. Also that she was cheating a little, but you know; love and war and all that.

“Five on-” And Twilight’s hoof dropped as the shield was gone. She pounded her hoof in the air; a brief flap of her wings took her airborne for a second. “Ha! Yessssss!” she whispered loudly. “Perfect!” She knew how it worked. She knew how to counter it.

Stormwalker poked her nose in. “It’s going well, I take it?” she asked. “Whatever ‘it’ is.”

“Guess who’s now the proud practitioner of anti-anti-magic!”

“So… magic?”

“Nope! Watch.” A shield formed around the table. “This is an ordinary shield. Just magic.” Twilight poked it with the quarrel and, with a slight tingle in her horn, the shield fell. “See?” She quickly formed a new one. “And this is a shield with magic and anti-anti-magic.” She poked the new shield. Again, there was a mild tingle, but this time, nothing changed within the shield itself; the quarrel bounced off. “Stops the grounding right in its tracks!”

“Okay. Cool,” Stormwalker said disinterestedly.

But Twilight didn’t care. “Of course, it’s got its limitations,” she said, twirling the bolt around. “It can’t work after the fact, for starters, since it relies on earth pony magic getting shaped by unicorn magic, so if my unicorn magic’s already been grounded, I can’t un-ground it. But that just means I need to be prepared for it when I go out, and as long as I remember to weave earth pony magic into my spells, I don’t need to worry about a thing. I also don’t think I’ll be able to block it if I’m more than ten feet from the ground or something attached to it because I can’t form a solid enough connection, but that also means that grounding itself won’t be able to form a solid enough connection, so it won’t… be able… to…”

Stormwalker was gone, repulsed by the arcanobabble. Twilight huffed and blew a strand of hair out of her eye.

But being ignored couldn’t keep her down for long. It’d taken several hours but she had it: knowledge of what harmed her and, more importantly, knowledge of how to prevent it. Some small part of her said that there had to be more to it than that, but abada magic worked nearly identically to unicorn magic, while earth pony magic was far outside their context. She would do just fine. And just in case she wasn’t, she was already formulating several other ways of blocking grounding. What if she used pegasus magic instead of earth pony magic, for instance? What if… And so on and so forth.

Twilight was dangerously close to whistling when she exited her room. Most of her entourage was is the living room, passing the time doing whatever. “Fillies and gentlecolts and dragon,” she proclaimed, “I am proud to announce that not only I fully understand grounding, but I am also fully prepared to counter it.”

“You’re only using the isolated forms of the letters, here,” Livingstone said to Spike, poking at a paper they were both staring at. “It’s readable, yes, but it looks quite crude.”

“I hated cursive when it was in Equestrian,” mumbled Spike as he scribbled something out with a quill, “and that was before I had to learn a whole new set of letters. Letters that are written from right to left. And don’t have vowels.”

“Zebran developed a predominantly cursive script because it’s far easier to write without magic. For a zebra, anyway, I assume you have little difficulty with a discrete script, yes?”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” Cumulus said to Mtetezi. “How come she hasn’t married yet?”

“She’s in the middle of courtship, actually,” Mtetezi said. “A duke, I can’t remember his name. I think they’ve been friends since childhood, but…” She shrugged. “I don’t keep track of royal affairs as much as I should.”

Twilight scowled and cleared her throat. “So I’m going to lay some protective wards around here,” she said loudly, “so we don’t have to worry as much about possibly being attacked, which I think we can all agree is a very real risk.”

“Yeah,” said Spike. “I write faster than most ponies, even unicorns. I’m pretty good at writing.”

“You are indeed,” Livingstone said, holding back a grin. “If you weren’t a princess’s scribe already, I might just be trying to snatch you away for myself.”

“I get that,” Cumulus said with a nod. “Of course, I’ve got the excuse of Celestia never marrying anypony, but I don’t think I’d follow that sort of thing even if she wasn’t immortal.”

“The whole immortal ruler thing seems… kinda creepy,” said Mtetezi. “I mean, she’s the same when you’re born and when you die and there’s no change of leadership? You’re really lucky she’s benevolent.”

“I’m not sure she’s invincible, though; she might just be ageless. Hypothetically, if she did go bad, we might be able to…”

Askari returned from the kitchen with a glass of water on her back. “For what it’s worth, Your Highness, I thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” mumbled Twilight. She rolled her shoulders and flexed her wings. “Anyway…”

Her dissatisfaction at being ignored couldn’t last forever, though, and she was good at wards. As she circled around the embassy, laying down her enchantments, her brain entered the easy monotony of performing a task she was skilled at, she shifted gears in her thoughts. She had a bit more information on her suspects. So, what could she do about it?

She had some extra information on Okubi. Nothing to throw her out, like Uvivi or Inkosi, but enough to discount her compared to Mtendaji at least a little. She hadn’t cared enough about grounding to make Mhate not explain it, but that might just be her being assured in the impossibility of blocking it. Okubi didn’t seem to be the kind of person to make those assumptions, but there was always the possibility.

But she couldn’t just think about what Okubi had done in that little chat. No, she also had to think about everything else Okubi had done. Generally, be silent, talk in short sentences, and stare. Not much. Twilight also applied to Mtendaji. She, on the other hoof, had greeted Twilight, talked with her a bit about Imayini (which, according to Kutengwa, was mostly lies), talked with Spike about dragon biology, offered her kashata, visited her in the medical ward, suggested she go to the theatre if she was goi-

Twilight tripped on nothing as her brain crunched gears. Mtendaji had, out of nowhere, suggested she go to the theatre. When she’d gone to the theatre, there was an assassin there, waiting for her. Coincidence? Maybe. But it did look mighty suspicious. Twilight hadn’t initially thought of going to the theatre, but that wasn’t to say her subconscious hadn’t picked up on Mtendaji’s suggestion. It was hardly conclusive evidence, obviously, but it did sort of waggle its eyebrows suggestively, going “look over there”, especially since Spike’s set of assassins had only come out once she’d entered the thea-

Spike’s assassins had been using morning stars. Those weapons had spikes, but they were largely blunt force weapons. Blunt force could go through armor; they might not penetrate, but the shockwave could do terrible things to your insides. (Although dragon insides were stronger than pony insides, to deal with the fire, but it was unlikely Spike knew that.) Spike was so small, no one had any reason to believe his scales were that strong. Unless you’d spent about ten minutes talking to him about dragon biology during dinner, as a certain abada CEO had.

Hmm. Things weren’t looking good for Mtendaji. Again, nothing conclusive or unbeatably solid, but the stack of evidence against her was easily the highest and, unlike the others, she didn’t have much “anti-evidence”, for lack of a better term, to suggest she hadn’t done it. Hopefully, Inkosi’s zebras were having a better time of it.

After the course of about an hour, it was done. Twilight had jammed protective spells into every corner, properly layered with earth pony magic in the right ways. Hostile zebras or abadas wouldn’t be able to enter the embassy, not without permission from her or one of the other members of her group, and any magic attempting to enter from the outside would be blocked (but not grounded; Twilight didn’t want to have her defenses depend on something she hadn’t tested yet). An abada attempting to ground the magic would have no luck. Right?

Just to be safe, Twilight took the quarrel outside the embassy, tweaked the spells a little to disallow the quarrel, and tossed it at the open door. The second before the arrowhead crossed the threshold, the ward hummed briefly. It was a low sound, right on the edge of hearing. At the same time, the quarrel twisted in the air as the arrowhead was pushed away; it spun lazily and flew slowly through the air to bounce lightly off the opposite wall. Yes, indeed, grounding these wards was impossible.

From their spots in the living room, Spike and Livingstone looked up upon hearing Twilight amble back into the embassy. “You look happy,” Spike observed.

“Not to brag,” Twilight said, rubbing her hoof against her chest, “but I did just lay down a set of ungroundable wards to ensure our protection without keeping our guards up at all hours.”

Livingstone blinked and her ears went rigid. “Excuse me? You figured out how to block grounding?”

“You weren’t listening at all, were you?”

“Listening to what?”

Twilight sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Yes, I figured out how block grounding. Long story short, it involves the right application of earth pony magic.”

Livingstone blinked again and her jaw slowly dropped as her mouth slid into a miniscule “O” shape. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“But now that I know that…” Twilight waved a hoof around the room. “I’ve laid up protective spells all over the place. Anybody who wants to get in to kill us won’t be able to, and they won’t be able to ground the magic to get rid of it, either. I’ve set the wards to detect overly hostile thoughts, a-”

Spike coughed.

“-and long story short, we’re safe and nobody can get to us.”

“Most excellent,” Livingstone said, smiling slightly. “I imagine that abadas would shocked to hear of your success, yes, although it is probably not the best idea to simply tell them.”

“So…” Spike looked at Twilight, looked at Livingstone. “Now what?”

Twilight shrugged. “I have no idea. Wait, I guess.”

Waiting was a hay of a lot easier for Twilight when she could read a fraction of the many, many books available to her.

Twilight’s reading skills for Zebran letters weren’t at 100%, but they were high. Over 75%, definitely. The books available ranged from light, trashy fiction to deep philosophical treatises that Twilight suspected she would’ve enjoyed immensely if half the words weren’t complex ones she couldn’t understand (probably things like “oligarchy”). Science and hippological ones, the ones she was really interested in, were most regrettably missing. She wondered why, exactly, this collection of books was being kept in this particular suite, but decided to just accept and enjoy it.

But now that she was safe and secure, her mind kept going to a pony and a zebra who might not be. Exactly how were Applejack and Zecora doing? They had a good guide, and they were both strong equines, but they didn’t know there was some sort of conspiracy here, and that conspiracy might be targeting them, too.

Then an idea came to her. Livingstone had mentioned that Idube always went to the same bar. They were supposed to arrive sometime this evening — sometime soon, as Twilight looked out a window and saw that it already was evening. So, with her new protection, she could just pop out and visit them there, just to reassure herself. After a quick bit of preparation, though.

Once she borrowed one of Spike’s gems for the purpose, she went back to the living room and asked, “Livingstone, you said Idube always takes a rest at the same place when she arrives in Kulikulu, right?”

“Yes, yes she does,” Livingstone said, looking up. “The Bonde Baa. Why? Are you thinking you might want to meet your friends there?”

“Yeah. I know they’re probably safe, but…” Twilight rubbed the back of her neck. “I just want to be sure.”

Spike jumped up on his seat. “Can I come? I-”

“I’m sorry, Spike,” Twilight said, “but I’ve got something else for you.” She laid a gem, glowing white, on the table. “I’ve linked this gem with my life. If I’m badly hurt, it’ll narrow into a beam pointing at me and you’ll know to come and find me. If I die, i-”

“But- but Twilight,” Spike protested, “didn’t you just say you knew how to block grounding? And if you can block that, th-”

“This is just to be absolutely sure,” said Twilight. “I don’t want you waiting around, not knowing what happened to me. If I die-” She tapped the gem. “This light will go out, and you should send a letter to Princess Celestia ASAP. Okay?”

Spike looked at the gem for a moment, then looked up at Twilight. “Alright,” he said. “But-”

“Look, I’m positive I’ll be okay,” Twilight said. “Like you said, I can block grounding. This is just so you know I’m still fine.”

Spike looked at the gem again and seemed to crumple in relief. “Okay. That I can take.”

Livingstone darted back into the room with a map of Kulikulu. “It won’t do you much good if you don’t know where the place is, no,” she muttered as she laid the map out flat. “Okay, we are right here…” She poked at a blob Twilight recognized as the palace layout. “And the Bonde Baa is right… bum bum bum… right here.” She poked at someplace on the other side of Kulikulu, close to the edge. For a moment, Twilight thought she might need a more detailed map, but then she found a few landmarks to help orient herself. The Bonde Baa was three blocks south of a roughly circular park, right in the middle of the block. She could remember that.

She scanned the map, committing the streets to memory. “And they should be there soon?” she asked Livingstone.

“Ideally,” said Livingstone with a nod. “Travel time can vary, obviously, so there is a slim chance they might not be here until tomorrow, but if they could be here tonight, Idube would drive her caravan to get here at a reasonable time, yes.”

One last look-over, and Twilight was sure she could find the Bonde Baa. “Okay, good.” She sighed and flexed her wings. “Well, no time like the present. I’m off. Be seeing you in less than an hour, hopefully.” She laid her hoof on the outside door’s pedal.

“Hey, Twilight?” said Spike. “Be safe.”

Twilight smiled. “Don’t worry about me, Spike. I’ll be fine. Goodbye.”

The moment Twilight had exited the embassy and taken a few steps down the hall, she realized that she could use a partner in this. She didn’t need one, but another pair of her eyes would be useful. That was what her bodyguards were for, right? She turned around just in time to see-

“Wait!” Stormwalker banged through the door, slid across the hall, and smacked lightly against the opposite wall. “Your Highness, I’m coming with you. You could use somepony to help protect you, and, at the very least, two pairs of eyes are better than one. I know that you-”

“-would be happy to have you come along,” Twilight interrupted. “I was just thinking that I should have you or Cumulus come with me.”

Stormwalker blinked, then bowed slightly. “Thank you.” Straightening up, she asked, “But you do realize we can’t just walk right over to that bar, right? First of all, we’ll have to get out of the palace without being seen. They’re going to have-”

Twilight’s horn sparked.

“-people watching the exits, and…” Stormwalker blinked and shuffled her hooves. “…and…” She looked down. Cobblestoned streets, not tiled floors, lay beneath her hooves. Twilight had teleported them out of the palace to one of the side alleys not too far from the marketplace.

Stormwalker blinked again, then lowered her head and sniffed the street, as if checking to see if it was real. Still staring at the street, she muttered, “Okay, that was scary.”

“The wards I put up keep offensive magic from being used in the embassy,” explained Twilight, “and that includes teleportation, both in and out. I can’t take us all the way there because it’s too far for me, and I don’t know the area. I don’t want us popping into existence in the middle of a wall.”

“Ah.” Stormwalker looked over her shoulder at the street. “So, what, we’ll walk the rest of the way? Looking like this?”

Twilight spread her wings. “Actually, we’ll just fly. It’s quicker an-”

“Whoa, no.” Stormwalker stepped on Twilight’s tail, even though she hadn’t tried taking off yet. “What if someone in the conspiracy looks up and sees us? There aren’t a whole lot of flying zebras in Zebrabwe, after all.”

“And why would they look up?”

“Because-” Stormwalker cut herself so quickly it was like a recording stopped. She clicked her teeth together as she stared at nothing in particular, then eventually admitted, “I don’t know. But someone will.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Really,” Stormwalker snorted. “They just won’t look up.”

“Really. There’s no reason for them to do that. You don’t get it because you’ve always been a pegasus, but pegasi think a lot more three-dimensionally than earth ponies and unicorns.” Twilight flicked her tail out from under Stormwalker’s hoof. “See, the ability to move up at will means pegasus brains develop a bit differently than those of other ponies, and looking up and down is a habit pegasi form easily before they’re five years old, whereas it rarely develops at all in the other two. They’ve actually done studies on this.” She began gesturing, forming an imaginary room. “The researchers hid an item in a room and told the subjects to find it. But the item wasn’t hidden behind anything, it was taped to the ceiling. On average, pegasi took only a fifth of the time to find the item compared to the other two tribes because when they couldn’t find it on the ground, they’d just look up, while unicorns and earth po-”

“I get it,” Stormwalker said quickly.

“And as a former unicorn myself,” said Twilight, “I can say that one of the weirder side effects of… alicornication, I guess, is mild neck pain, because I had to learn to look up before I took flight, and I wasn’t used to doing that. It’s gone now, though.” She flapped her wings once. “So, yes. They just won’t look up. And on the very slim chance they do and they recognize us, they won’t be able to do much. We’ll be safe once we’re in the air.”

“…If you say so,” said Stormwalker. She looked up and opened her wings. “Let’s get going, then.”

Kulikulu looked incredibly different from the sky, and a little strange; Twilight could see the line where the Old Quarter ended, the change in architecture was so drastic. But as she and Stormwalker kept flying, Twilight began to orient herself relative to the maps in her head. This skyscraper was that building, which meant that these streets were those streets, and so on and so forth. She zeroed in on the location of the Bonde Baa and flew at an easy pace. She wasn’t too concerned.

Behind her, Stormwalker spoke up. “Hey, um, Princess?”

“Yeah?”

“Mind if I ask you a semi-personal question?”

“Go ahead, but I reserve the right to refuse to answer it.”

“Fair enough. So, um, alicorns are… are more than regular ponies, right? I mean, faster than most pegasi, more powerful than most unicorns, stronger than most earth ponies, that sort of thing.”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Does that include alcohol tolerance?”

By the time Twilight had processed that question and was flapping again, she was about ten feet below Stormwalker. Before Stormwalker could dive to meet her, Twilight had climbed back up. “What?”

“You know. Your ability to hold your liquor. How m-”

“I know what that means, but… why that?”

“Why not that? Come on, it’s beer and wine and stuff. Everypony drinks beer and wine and stuff.” A few brisk flaps, and Stormwalker was right at Twilight’s side, looking her in the eye. “So?”

“Well, it’s, I’m not sure,” Twilight said quickly. “I was never really much of a drinker when I was just a unicorn, and that hasn’t really changed since I became an alicorn. So I really couldn’t say.”

“Aw.” Stormwalker looked wounded.

As they kept flying, Twilight reflected that her first impressions of Kulikulu as a smaller Manehattan were still being borne out. Even from dozens of stories in the air, the city was bustling and didn’t show any signs of slowing down. If anything, the nightlife was just beginning. Traffic she couldn’t make that definitely wasn’t zebras moved up and down the streets, and she even spotted a few things that might’ve been elevated trains. Unfortunately, with her destination firmly in mind, Twilight couldn’t stop and enjoy the sights. Twilight resolved to go into Kulikulu proper once everything — her audience with Inkosi, this conspiracy, anything else that might pop up — had been dealt with.

The Bonde Baa was in one of the quieter corners of the city. Not many zebras passed it by, and it had a very unassuming exterior. From what little Twilight could see, it gave her the impression of a dive, someplace you went to for the company besides anything it served. Of course, Twilight reflected, she was definitely going there for the company.

Before they could descend, Stormwalker pulled up. “Your Highness, if whatsername, Idube always comes here, then there could be-”

Twilight spotted a narrow alley nearby no one was looking at and her horn sparked.

“-people watching…” Stormwalker looked down at the ground barely a foot beneath her hooves and sighed. “Crazy crazy crazy,” she muttered as she folded her wings. “The best teleporters in the Guard aren’t that smooth.”

“And just so we don’t stand out and attract attention…” With a significantly more complicated casting, Twilight wove illusions to hide her and Stormwalker’s unstriped coats. By the time she was done, their coats and manes had been replaced with black-and-white-striped versions of themselves. Their body shapes were unchanged, with the exception of them both missing their wings and Twilight missing her horn.

Stormwalker looked at one of her legs and blinked. “Okay, wow,” she said as she began examining herself, “that’s rea- Gah!” She waved her hooves at the apparently empty air at her side. “Where’re my-” She jumped, yelped, and flinched as she hit something, and hit it hard. Her wing, steel gray, flickered into transparency for a moment before vanishing again.

Stormwalker cocked her head. “Huh.” She delicately jabbed at the air again. Her wing briefly appeared again, its semi-visibility radiating out from the point of contact. She paused and started hovering as she flapped her invisible wings. Tiny tornadoes of dust swirled across the streets on seemingly sourceless winds.

“It should hold as long as you don’t poke it too much,” said Twilight. “I didn’t put much effort into it.”

Stormwalker landed and looked at where her wing should have been for another second before turning back to Twilight. “Have I mentioned you’re scary? Because you’re scary.”

“That’s an… interesting way of putting it, I guess.”

“Well, just- just look at this! You said didn’t try that hard and…” Stormwalker looked over her shoulder again. “Most unicorns I know would sell their soul to be able to do something like this! And you go and do it in a few seconds without even trying that hard!” She looked Twilight straight in the eyes. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you’re my princess. But when you get right down to it, you’re scary. And not just you. Celestia’s scary. Luna’s scary. Even Cadance’s scary, when you think about it too hard. Princesses are scary.”

“Oh.” Twilight had heard that train of thought several times before; just not with the phrasing, “you’re scary”. Although it was certainly true; the first few weeks after she became a princess, she’d sometimes scared herself discovering what she could do. Then again- “So… why were you so forceful about me coming here the fast way earlier?”

Stormwalker blanched so hard it was visible beneath the illusion, and she looked away. “Because I was stupid and I’d forgotten how scary you could be and I wanted to feel important and-”

“Okay, calm down, I get it,” said Twilight. “That decision didn’t turn out the greatest, but hindsight is 20/20, right?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Stormwalker pawed at the ground, still not looking at Twilight, and folded her ears back. “Look, can, can we just get to the stupid bar?”

“Fine. Come on.” Twilight strode around the corner and onto the street. It was mostly empty, and the few zebras there didn’t look twice at her. Stormwalker soon followed, and no one looked twice at her, either.

Twilight kept her eyes forward. The Bonde Baa — Twilight could actually read the letters, now — was right there. For all she knew, Applejack was in there already. Several carts were parked outside, and although it was hard to see what was going on through the windows, it sounded busy; indistinct noises were pounding through the walls. It might’ve been music, it might’ve been something else. Of course, being orange in a sea of black and white, Applejack would stand out. Hopefully, that wasn’t stressing her out too much.

Twilight slowed her walk just enough to let Stormwalker catch up to her. “Listen,” Twilight whispered to Stormwalker, “I get that you’re upset for making me come out here at exactly the wrong time. Like, a day later and we wouldn’t be sneaking about this.”

Stormwalker mumbled something that may or may not have been a confirmation.

“But don’t worry about it; it didn’t turn out too bad,” continued Twilight, “and it could be worse. I mean, I’m still okay, I’ve learned some new magic, and it’s not like Applejack’s in a gigantic bar fight as we speak, right?”

It was at that particular moment that Applejack came flying out one of the Bonde Baa’s windows, slid several yards across the street, and came to a halt right at Twilight’s and Stormwalker’s hooves. She was bruised and grimy, but miles away from beaten.

Not recognizing either under their illusions, Applejack grinned. “Hey. Sorry ‘bout that.” She stood up, yelled, and charged back through the window.

Twilight and Stormwalker looked at the broken window. At each other. At the broken window. At each other. Then the only reason they didn’t bolt as one for the door was because Twilight was much, much faster.

23 - With a Little Help From my Friends

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“Bhizaaaaa, c’mon, tell me.”

“No!”

“Please?”

“No!”

“Pretty please?”

“Noooooo!”

Applejack huffed. “You’re tearin’ me apart, Bhiza.”

Bhiza grinned. “I know.”

Kulikulu was looming above them, illuminated by its own lights and the rays of the setting sun. Not only did the road continue to slope up the mountainside, but as the city climbed up the mountain, the buildings grew taller. It was like a strange kind of wave. The traffic had gotten dense enough that Applejack standing out had swung back around from “strange” to “quaint”; there were zebras on the street stranger than her and those that stared at her never did so for more than a few seconds. The road was broad, broader than her house, and it would be an understatement to call it “bustling”. If ever she could be said to be in the middle of zebra culture, it was now.

And all she could think of was Bhiza’s kiss, and whether or not Bhiza had meant it like that. Bhiza definitely wasn’t saying anything.

“Seriously, Bhiza. Which is it? Do y’all like me like that or not?”

“No.”

“…Is that to the first one or the second one?”

“Not telling!”

Applejack glowered. Probably the worst part about it was that she didn’t mind one way or another, as long as she knew which it was. She couldn’t react to Bhiza liking her like that if Bhiza actually didn’t, and vice versa. Now, she was just bumbling along, doing her darndest to just figure out what in the hay was going on. “Bhiza, for the last time — and I mean last time, this’s been goin’ on for way too long — did you really mean it? And I swear, if you…”

Bhiza smirked. “I will ne-”

Applejack lightly smacked Bhiza.

Bhiza blinked and recoiled. She rubbed her cheek and stared at Applejack with a hurt look on her face.

“Look,” Applejack said with a sigh, “I don’t know what it’s like over here, but back in Equestria, that’s real personal, and y’all don’t just… go and do that. It’s causin’ all kinds of weird feelin’s in me, and I don’t really know what to make of it.”

Bhiza blinked again and her expression shifted to… something else. “Oh.” She looked away from Applejack for a few moments, then turned back. “It is… not personal very here, but… it is personal, and we have not known each other for long. I am sorry.”

“And…?”

“And I like you, but not like that. It was distraction. Nothing more. Promise.”

“Alright. Apology accepted.” Applejack looked ahead to Kulikulu — not long, now — and chuckled. “It guess it did work in that case. I barely even noticed how far we came.”

“It worked good very.” Bhiza smirked, then flinched and rubbed her cheek again.

“Sorry for smackin’ you,” said Applejack quickly. “It don’t hurt, does it?”

“Not very. I will be good. But…” Bhiza smiled guilelessly. “You could kiss it and make it more good?”

Applejack shoved Bhiza into a roadside ditch.

“It was worth it!” Bhiza yelled as she started clambering out.

The sun was about halfway down by the time they arrived. Kulikulu started a bit abruptly, like there was a line drawn on maps that said, “Don’t build past here.” One minute, they were winding up a semi-bare cliff, the next, they were in a semi-dense neighborhood. Mostly houses, with a few small (what Applejack suspected were) stores here and there. The designs were something like Canterlot crossed with Ponyville; not as refined as the former, not as rough as the latter. The walls were nicely-cut stone, but they lacked the polish that defined Canterlot. The image was broken a little by the proliferation of electric streetlights; even Canterlot mostly used magical ones or oil ones.

The buildings got denser and denser as they went further and further into the city. At one point, they passed through a gate in a wall almost a dozen feet thick. “Kulikulu was protected good in past,” Bhiza explained, “and that wall was its protection main. It became less useful as time passed, but it would cost too much to destroy it.”

Beyond the wall, they entered a more commercial area, and Applejack was reminded of midtown Manehattan. Kulikulu might not have been as busy or colorful as Manehattan, but that was Manehattan; that still meant Kulikulu was pretty busy and colorful. Applejack started getting a sore neck, looking back and forth and back at everything. Some buildings had clear Equestrian counterparts, but with others, Applejack couldn’t guess at what they were for. She almost wanted to stop every few minutes and start asking, “What’s that? What’s that? What’s that?”

Applejack looked up the mountain’s slopes, tried to see the palace, but it was obscured behind skyscrapers. At first she thought it’d only be another hour or so before she’d see Twilight, but then Idube turned them down a street on a completely different route. “Uh,” Applejack said to Bhiza, “what’re-”

“We go this way all times,” said Bhiza. “To bar. Idube’s family owns it.”

“Guess I can’t fault her for that.”

The bar wasn’t much on the outside; it had a very plain sign and very plain siding, and it was that grimy sort of clean where it routinely gets 90% cleaned, and the remaining 10% is always ignored because those stains are incredibly ground in and cleaning them would be more trouble than they’re worth. However, it felt very friendly, a feeling borne out by the inside, which was nothing more than functional and very spacious, perfect for large gatherings of friends (and, surprisingly, lit by electric lights). The chairs and tables were all basic wood, but they were painted with intricate geometric designs that Applejack suspected she’d get lost in if she tried to follow.

The moment the caravan entered the building, Applejack was shoved forward to the bar, where all the zebras who hadn’t seen her before ooo’ed and ahhh’ed over her. Being a zebra, Zecora managed to avoid detection and duck out before anyone captured her. Stuck in the crowd, Applejack forced out an awkward grin as the zebras who’d come with her babbled about something, drawing looks of disbelief, then scorn, then surprise, then awe. Some of them started gesturing towards a table, but Applejack was yanked out of the crowd by Bhiza, who yelled, “Ai! Yeye mahitaji ya baadhi ya nafasi! Nenda zako!”

Bhiza dragged Applejack to a corner table and plonked her down in a chair. “Are yo- Ai!” Some of the crowd was still following them, curiously staring at Applejack. Bhiza made a few gestures to try and wave them away. “Nenda zako!” It took a little while, but after a few angry mutters and ear-flicks, the zebras retreated to their own tables, still staring.

Bhiza snorted and rolled her eyes. “Are you good?”

“Yeah,” Applejack said. “Thanks for that.”

Before she could say anything else, a waitress zipped up and deposited a steaming bowl of soup in front of each of the two. Applejack blinked at her bowl, then at the already departing waitress. “Did… did we order?” she asked Bhiza.

“Idube always buys this for we,” said Bhiza. She stuck her muzzle in the bowl and briefly slurped. “And they know that-” She pointed at the staff behind the bar. “-so they know to make it when she arrives.”

“Ah.” Applejack took a slurp of the soup and twitched; it was hot, almost hot enough to burn her tongue, and very rich. Not to say she disliked it, it was just a surprise. She blew on the soup and slurped again. Better.

The other zebras milled about the room with their own soup. Mostly, the caravan stuck together, but one or two of them were talking with zebras Applejack couldn’t recognize, probably local friends. (Applejack was a bit shocked to realize that she could now tell zebras apart, even the ones she hadn’t been traveling with, in spite of their black-and-white-striped coats.) They made up most of the crowd in the bar; Applejack wondered how much business the place usually did. Well, it wasn’t falling apart, so it probably did alright.

She slurped again and tapped a hoof on the tabletop. “S-so, uh… Now what? I mean, with the trip and all.”

“You will go to… um, palace,” said Bhiza, “find Twilight, and stay with she.” Sluuuurp. “We will stay in hotel until you go back.” She shrugged. “I do not care. I have done it before.”

“Huh. That’s real simple.”

Bhiza nodded. “Yes.” Sluuuurp. “Not much to it.”

Applejack did her own slurp. “Then I guess this is the last time I’ll see y’all.”

“You can visit I in hotel,” Bhiza said. “And we will go back to Bandari Mji together. And I might go to Equestria later. This is not last time.”

“Well, for a while.” Applejack slurped again, then wiped her mouth off. “Bhiza, listen. I just wanna say thanks for travelin’ with me these days. I don’t know what I’da done if you hadn’t been around to just talk with me.”

“It was nothing,” Bhiza said with a hoof wave. “Just talking.”

“Still, thanks.”

“Welcome.” Sluuuuurp. “And thank you for sharing Equestria with I. I cannot wait to see it in time.”

“It’ll be a long time. Many moons, maybe.”

Bhiza shrugged. “Time will come. I can wa-”

The door to the bar banged open, a sound loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the room and silence most conversations, and eight or nine zebras strode inside. The one in front, a mare bigger even than most of the other zebras, looked over the crowd and her gaze locked on Applejack. Her eyes narrowed, and Applejack immediately knew nothing good would come out of this.

“You know them?” Applejack whispered to Bhiza. She didn’t know why she was whispering; the zebras wouldn’t understand Equestrian. Habit, probably.

“No,” Bhiza responded quietly. “No idea.”

The leader pointed at Applejack. She had flip-out knife, currently stowed, strapped to her foreleg. The other one, too, Applejack realized when she looked. “Tunataka pony,” the leader growled.

“They say they want you,” Bhiza whispered.

“Kwa nini?” asked Idube. She pushed out her chair, marched up to the leader, and, in spite of several inches’ height difference, looked her in the eye. “Yeye ni chini ya ulinzi wangu.”

“Hiyo ni hakuna wa biashara yako,” the leader said, glaring down at Idube. “Kutoa wake kwetu.”

“Idube does not want to let you go,” Bhiza whispered, “but they still want you.”

“Au nini?” challenged Idube.

With a flick of her hoof, the leader locked her knife into the ready position and had the tip under Idube’s chin. Behind her, the other zebras started baring weapons of their own, and anyone still talking quieted down immediately. Idube lifted her head a little to remove the pressure on the knifepoint, and the leader grinned. “Je, unataka kujua?”

“Threats,” whispered Bhiza.

To the crowd at large, the leader said, “Kama huna unataka kulinda pony, unaweza kwenda.” She nodded to the door, and the zebras blocking it stood aside. Immediately, every zebra did one of two things: they either bolted for the door and left or bolted for Applejack’s corner and stood in front of her. Of the zebras in the caravan, not a single one took the door.

The leader raised an eyebrow at the wall around Applejack and Bhiza, then turned back to Idube. “Kufanya uchaguzi wako.”

Idube blinked and visibly swallowed, then gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Sawa.” She backed away from the leader and gently pushed her way through to Applejack, drawing looks from the other caravanners. “Applejack,” she said mournfully, “play along.”

Applejack blinked. “Wha…? What’re y’all-”

“They do not understand Equestria,” Idube said, still sounding like she was at a funeral, “but I need to sound like I am giving you up. We outnumber them. We can beat them. But we need to surprise them.”

“That… that sounds like y’all’re gonna try to attack them.”

Idube nodded.

“What?” Applejack asked incredulously. “You… Y’all can’t be serious, right? It’s… I mean…”

“We were hired to get you to the palace,” Idube said. “We will get you to the palace.” Murmurs of assent ran through the zebras who understood Equestrian, and Bhiza nodded vigorously. “But now… what else can we do?”

“Tunasubiiiiriiii…” said the leader, tapping a hoof on the ground.

“Go,” said Idube. “We will figure it out.”

“…Alright,” Applejack muttered. Not a good idea. Not a good idea at all. But there weren’t a whole lot of options. Reluctantly, she started walking towards the new group, the caravaners parting to let her pass. She could hear them muttering in Equestrian under her breath, some of them asking themselves just what they were supposed to do. Applejack sympathized; everything was happening just too fast.

Once she was away from the caravaners, Applejack decided she definitely didn’t like the looks of the new group. Even if you didn’t count their weapons, they felt too aggressive for her liking. Most of them had at least one prominent scar, and the few that still had their weapons out were displaying them menacingly. The leader had flipped her knife back to the stowed position, but she still smirked with a sort of malicious glee as she gestured Applejack over. Applejack sighed and started walking towards the group, wondering just what Idube was going to do. Once she was halfway there, she stopped and looked over her shoulder, at the zebras she knew.

She focused on Bhiza, who had gotten up and taken a few steps to follow her before stopping. She was biting her lip and shuffling her hooves. She raised one, like she was going to take another step, then lowered it. She flicked her ears, flicked her tail, looked away. Fakery or not, Applejack was still walking towards a bunch of potentially murderous zebras. If anything went wrong, it would go very, very wrong.

Then she focused on Idube, who hadn’t moved. One word was written across her face: sorry. Even though they weren’t really giving Applejack over, she was going to be right in the middle of it all when everything went south. However it went south. Applejack nodded briefly to let her know she got the message, and Idube relaxed very, very slightly.

Then she focused on Zecora, still sitting at one of the tables. Zecora was staring at her with a weird intensity. The instant they looked each other in the eye, Zecora’s eyes flicked down towards the table. Applejack followed it, but at first, she couldn’t see what Zecora meant. Then she noticed that Zecora was casually resting one of her hooves on the table. And that hoof was right behind one of those very hot bowls of soup.

Oh…

Applejack turned away, trying to look hurt. She had to keep up appearances. She took another few steps towards the leader.

The leader definitely wasn’t the patient type. “Kuja juu!” she snapped, gesturing at Applejack. “Harakisha!”

Applejack took another step and hung her head. If she dragged it out as long as she could, maybe Idube co-

“Sasa!” By now, all the new zebras were looking at Applejack.

Applejack took another, even slower step.

The leader groaned and rolled her eyes. She took a step forward-

-and a steaming bowl of soup hit her in the face, splattering everywhere. She screamed and recoiled, pawing at the hot liquid with her hooves. Two of her allies jumped forward and pulled her away from Applejack.

In that moment, the crowd exploded.

Every single one the caravaners was out of their seats in an instant, charging the attackers, and everything devolved into a swirling, dusty mass of black and white, a cacophony of yells and groans and impacts. Applejack ducked and pulled her hat down as brawls broke out and crawled along the dusty floor towards the edge. Already, fights were breaking furniture; one zebra was thrown down onto a chair as Applejack passed it, shattering it and throwing splinters at her face. Applejack stood up the moment she had a clear space to get her bearings.

One zebra toppled out from the crowd. Not one of the caravaners; he had weapons, although they weren’t deployed. Noticing Applejack, he lunged at her, making a wild swing at her face. Applejack ducked and the zebra missed by a mile. He quickly recovered and tried to stomp her head. She pushed to one side and rolled under a nearby table; the stomp missed by an inch, shattering the floor where she had been.

Underneath the table, lying on her back, Applejack panted and tried to get her thoughts together. Not very well; it was loud and the room shook. But she tried. Okay. Bar fight. Big bar fight. Was there really a goal besides “survive”? Probably not. And it wasn’t li-

“Ai!” her attacker yelled. Applejack snapped to look at him and awkwardly shuffled to the side to avoid another swipe. With a snarl, he jumped across the table to get to her on the other side.

That was the plan, anyway. The moment his hooves left the ground, Applejack’s mind clicked; she planted all four hooves on the underside of the table and pushed up with all her might. The table flew upwards, catching the zebra mid-jump, and slammed him into the ceiling. He smashed a lightbulb; sparks flew, tiny shards of glass raining down on the floor below. Applejack rolled to one side as the mass dropped; the table snapped in two and the zebra barely stirred when he hit the ground.

Applejack took a few steps back, shaking a little. There was really only one way out, now: take out all the attackers. Not a way she liked. She could fight, sure, but she wasn’t the violent type. Rainbow Dash, maybe, b-

Another zebra dive-tackled her from the side, and they rolled across the floor together, bumping through other scuffles. Her legs flailed, trying to find something to brace on, but she found nothing as the room turned over and over and her head bumped against the floor. Before she knew it, the zebra had her by the mane and was driving her down through a table.

The impact with the floor sent shocks through her whole body and her vision swam. She blinked to clear out the stars and vaguely tried to brush large splinters off of her face. It didn’t work so well; she could barely feel her limbs. She could see, though, and what she mainly saw was the zebra standing over her, staring her in the face. The zebra smirked, raised her head, and yelled, “Nadhani yeye n-”

Applejack bucked out blindly and hit something, probably a leg. The zebra yelped, staggered, and was immediately bucked across the room by Bhiza. “You good?” she asked Applejack over the din. With a hefty nudge, she turned Applejack over and onto her hooves.

“I ain’t good!” said Applejack. She shakily stood up. “We’re in the mid-” Something twitched in the corner of her eye and she reflexively dove forward, tackling Bhiza down into the remains of the table. Good thing, too, because otherwise Bhiza would’ve received a knife in the back from another attacker.

The two of them jumped up. Their attacker was slowly approaching in a three-legged gait, the last leg pointing a knife at the two of them. With a snarl, he said, “Kutoa wake kw-”

Whatever else he said was cut off as two zebras staggered between them, exchanging blows. Applejack twitched when she recognized Zecora, a broken bottle held between her teeth as a long, unbroken string of what were probably Zebran invectives streamed out of her mouth. But before Applejack could do anything, the zebras toppled away, leaving their attacker staring at the fighters with mild surprise.

As he was distracted, Bhiza flicked one of the broken table legs into his face. When he shied back and shielded his face, Applejack closed the distance between them, spun around, and smashed both her rear hooves into his face. He flew until he hit a table and somersaulted backwards over it.

Applejack turned back, but another zebra had jumped Bhiza and forced her to the ground, pressing a hoof down on her throat. As she raised her head to avoid strikes from Bhiza’s front hooves, she happened to look at Applejack. The two of them locked gazes. The two of them blinked. Before Applejack could react, the zebra whirled around and bucked her in the chest.

Any zebra, and the buck might’ve broken a few ribs. Being an earth pony, Applejack was just going to get some bruises and, once the adrenaline wore off, an awful lot of soreness. That said, a buck to the chest was a buck to the chest, and it was a powerful buck, besides. It hit Applejack hard enough to send her sailing across the bar and clean through the window.

She landed on the street and slid, getting a few light cuts across her back from the cobblestones. She bumped into two small zebras, both staring down at her as if they’d seen a ghost. She smiled up at them, wondering just what was going through their heads. Her ingrained politeness told her to say something, even though they wouldn’t understand Equestrian. “Hey,” her brain spat out. “Sorry ‘bout that.” She stood up and bolted back through the window, yelling like a madmare.

Dust swirled through the room, throwing up a dim haze, but Applejack knew who she was looking for, and soon found her. The zebra that had thrown her out was on the other side of the room, still standing over Bhiza, but the buck had at least given Bhiza enough wiggle room to get out of the choke. The zebra was trying to stomp on Bhiza, constantly bringing her front hooves up and down, but Bhiza somehow kept managing to wriggle away. Applejack charged, ducked around other fights, dove; she broadsided the zebra with enough force to send them both rolling over the bar and into the shelves behind.

They smashed into the shelves hard in a tangle of limbs, then fell and smashed into the ground hard in a tangle of limbs. Bottles knocked from the shelves rained down on them, some shattering, some not. Applejack was on her hooves first, her footing easy in spite of the drinks coating the floor; she scooped the zebra up and slammed her down on her back on the bar. The zebra was still dazed and unable to fight back. Seizing the opportunity, Applejack drew her hoof back in preparation for a knockout blow to the jaw.

Something squeaked.

That was really the only way to describe it: a high-pitched sound that pierced through the melee like nails on a blackboard. Somehow, it was the kind of sound you had to see the source of. Applejack reflexively looked up.

The door to the bar was open. A zebra, not one of Idube’s, was cowering in front of it. And there, encased in a magenta shield, was Twilight.

24 - Jealous Gods

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There is some debate about the most dangerous place in Equestria. The Everfree Forest is a popular choice, perhaps the most popular one. Between a mother Ursa and her cub is another. Among those who know of it, within several miles of the Flamecano on the brink of eruption. There’s also anywhere Celestia and/or Luna can find you after you try to hurt their little ponies.

In recent years, however, a new contender has sprung up: between Twilight and one of her friends in trouble.

Twilight didn’t knock the door to the bar off its hinges, but she still went through fast enough that it slammed into the wall hard enough to leave a dent, bounced back, and hit Stormwalker on the nose after she tried to follow Twilight through. She surveyed the situation in an instant: an all-out brawl between two groups of zebras, trashing every object available, and right in the middle was Applejack, currently dive-tackling a zebra across the bar. Unfortunately, there was so much going on that Twilight couldn’t recognize any of the zebras.

One of the fighters, big even by zebra standards and with a face dripping lightly with soup, pulled herself out of the crowd to glare at Twilight. Short, broad knives were strapped to both of her front forehooves, one of them flipped out and ready. She pointed at Twilight with the deployed knife and growled, “This doesn’t concern you, missy. Leave now, and we won’t follow.”

Missy?! Twilight nearly exploded. Instead, she lowered her head, pawed at the ground, and said, “Not a chance.”

A shrug. “You asked for it.” The zebra charged, roaring a war cry. Twilight instinctively backpedaled and threw up a shield as the zebra lunged with a knife.

The moment the knife hit the shield, Twilight immediately felt the tingle of grounding. But she also felt the equal and opposite tingle of earth magic pushing back. The shield didn’t budge, and the knife, rather than ripping through like it was butter, bounced off like it was rubber. Satisfied, Twilight dropped the illusions on herself and Stormwalker, as they weren’t much use anymore.

Less than half a second later, in what was probably a record of some kind, the zebra’s roar had turned into a quizzical “huh?” as she looked at her rebounded knife had turned into an extremely high-pitched scream of terror as she saw Twilight’s shield and new form. The zebra staggered backward, tripped, landed hard on her tail, curled up into a ball, and quietly squeaked, “Mercy.” Actually squeaked, considering her voice had gone up at least two octaves.

In spite of the (lack of) volume, it was like a pin dropping; everybody in the bar suddenly stopped and turned to look at Twilight and Stormwalker. Half of the zebras twitched, as if in shock. Before it could start up again, Twilight grabbed everyone (except for Applejack) in her magic and lifted them a few inches off the ground, just enough for them to not get a grip on the ground. Much gasping, screaming, and helpless flailing of limbs ensued.

“Twilight!” Applejack flopped over the bar and darted between the floating zebras to Twilight. Her legs twitched, like she wanted to hug Twilight, but she couldn’t do that without breaking her concentration. “What’re you doin’ here? Y’all alright, sugarcube?”

“Someone out here’s trying to kill me,” Twilight said.

Applejack blinked. “…Oh. Um…”

“Look, I’ll tell you later. It takes a lot of focus to keep all these zebras up without them smacking into each other.”

When everyone had eventually calmed down, Twilight cleared her throat. “Okay,” she said, “I came here to meet some people. Obviously, some of you are not those people. So let’s find out which of you are those people and which are not. And let’s make it quick, shall we?” She didn’t add that she wanted to make it quick because independently holding up almost two dozen separate zebras was taxing on her control.

One of the zebras cleared her throat; Twilight recognized her as Idube, and before she could start talking, Twilight lowered her to the ground, and released her. “Sorry,” said Twilight.

“That is fine,” Idube said as she shook herself off. “You are speaking in Zebran.”

“Translation spell.”

Idube cocked her head. “So…” Her voice changed, becoming more fluid, less stilted. “…can you understand me like this? When I speak Zebran?”

“Yeah.”

“If you had a translation spell,” spoke up one of the zebras — spoke up Zecora — “then why did you bring me, pray tell?”

“Sorry,” Twilight said, releasing Zecora, “but Livingstone ran into the right people once we got into Kulikulu, and if I’d known we would find a translation spell, I-”

Zecora chuckled. “Oh, no, that is perfectly fine. Now you don’t need me all the time.”

Idube helped Twilight sort out the good zebras and the bad zebras. Everyone was varying degrees of beaten up; a few zebras on both sides were limping slightly (no broken bones), and a lot of Idube’s zebras had at least a few cuts (no stab wounds, though). The attackers were corralled into the corner and Twilight whistled up several streamers of magic to tie them up. But then…

“So, now what?” Twilight asked her group. “I mean…” She looked over her shoulder for a second. “We can’t just leave them here, but-”

“Can’t we question them?” said Applejack. “They were here for me, so we should find out who hired them or whatever. Then we can, I dunno, get the police or somethin’ and let them worry ‘bout it.”

“Rrrrright,” said Twilight, smacking herself in the face. “That’d be the smart idea, wouldn’t it? Oh, and…” Her horn glowed, and several sparkles drifted over Applejack, swirling in winds that weren’t there. “There. Now you can understand zebras, even if they don’t speak Equestrian.”

“Uh. Thanks,” said Applejack. She took a few steps back to get out of Twilight’s mane and started looking at her hooves, as if a translation spell would change their appearance.

Twilight took a deep breath, swallowed, turned to the captive zebras, opened her mouth, and had her groove ruined when she was tapped on the shoulder by Stormwalker. “So, um,” Stormwalker whispered, “I’ll just, um, just stand behind you and try to look intimidating, since, um, you seem to have it under control.”

“You do that,” Twilight muttered back, waving her off. She’d just been settling into the zone, and to be interrupted right then…

But oh well. The zebras in the corner still looked scared. Twilight paced back and forth in front of them, giving them her best death glare. It must’ve worked; they all tried to shrink into balls. “You,” Twilight said eventually, “have attacked my friends. I do not like it when people attack my friends. But we can still solve this peacefully if you answer my questions. Is there anyone who can answer for all of you, so we can make this quick?”

Several of the zebras made squeaky-toy noises in fear. One zebra wiggled a little until her head was a few inches above the others, and said in a voice that was trying (badly) to be brave, “I- I am.”

It took a few seconds of moving zebras about, but Twilight had soon plucked the zebra (who turned out to be the same one who’d “greeted” her once she entered the Bonde Baa) from the mass and dropped her on the floor in front of her. She didn’t add any magical restraints. She didn’t need to; the zebra made no attempt to even move. She lay on her side on the floor, shivering, staring up at Twilight with wide eyes and shrunken pupils.

Well, when you were questioning someone, you could go worse with having them almost petrified in fear. This may or may not have been off to a good start. “And your name is?” Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m…” The zebra swallowed. “I’m Isosha.”

“So, Isosha,” said Twilight, “exactly why were you attacking my friends?” She spread her wings and pushed enough magic into her horn to start it glowing. That ought to look nice and menacing.

Isosha quailed and curled up on the floor even more. “We- we were paid. We, we’re mercenaries and- and one day some abada came up and asked us to capture a pony. Her, as, as it turned out.” She pointed at Applejack. “And, and it seemed like an easy job, but then she warned us about you, but then she said it was only a slim chance we’d run into you, and she said if we did see you you’d fall to certain weapons, and she gave us these-” She held up her front leg, displaying its stowed knife. Her voice started speeding up. “-and she said they’d work like nine times over and then you came and they didn’t work and you can move the freaking sun and I tried to kill you and they didn’t work and oh ancestors please don’t kill me!” She shielded her head with her forelegs and curled up so tightly Twilight was sure she was risking breaking a few ribs.

Okay, that was a bit much. Actually, no, it was a lot much. But she could work with it. Twilight frowned. “But how’d you know Applejack was here? Kulikulu’s a big city. She could’ve been anywhere.”

“The, the abada, she gave us th-” Isosha pulled her head from her ball. “Mizigo,” she said to the zebras, “show her the tracker.”

One of the zebras on the outside grumbled. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Is-”

“Mizigo, show her the tracker.”

“Seriously, Isosha, you shouldn’t just give it up like th-”

Isosha’s voice was growing high-pitched. “She wants to see the tracker. Show her the tracker.”

Mizigo raised his voice. “Look, maybe you’re different, but I don’t betray my employers just because someone scares me a little.”

“This,” hissed Isosha, “is different. Just for starters, she’s a shapeshifter.”

“Shapeshifters only exist in fairy tales. I don’t bel-”

“Look, I don’t believe in fairy tales, either. But I believe in what I see with my own two eyes, and she was a zebra when she walked in here before sprouting wings and a horn! She’s a shapeshifter!”

Twilight bit her lip, doing her best to not correct them. It was just an illusion, not full-blown shapeshifting; it was an important distinction. But as long as they believed she could shapeshift, they’d believe she could do more stuff she couldn’t actually do, and they’d cave more easily.

“And, and look at you!” continued Isosha. “You’re tied up with a rope made of energy! She stopped a knife with a shield made of energy she summoned from nowhere! She’s not just a shapeshifter, she’s- It’s- I mean, just-” She hit her head a few times. “And did you forget that she can move the sun? I’m lucky she hasn’t decided to start digging around in my mind for what she wants!”

Yeah, they’d cave more easily. Twilight didn’t know any sort of mental magic like that; the idea of casually breaking open someone’s mind, the place they should have complete privacy, and rooting around in it made her skin crawl. But, hey, if it made Isosha more likely to talk, she wasn’t going to speak up and correct her.

Mizigo looked at Twilight, nibbling on his lip. When he spoke again, a hint of doubt had crept into his words. “It’s the… It’s the sun,” he said slowly. “That abada was… was probably exaggerating.”

“Oh, it wasn’t an exaggeration,” Twilight said brightly. Try to sound casual, she told herself. Make it sound like it’s no big deal. “I moved the sun just two evenings ago. If you want, we can go outside and I can move it again so you ca-”

“See? See?!” said Isosha, pointing a shaking hoof at Twilight. “She can do it! I told you I’d seen something! I told you!”

“I…” mumbled Mizigo, “I still th-”

Isosha exploded and got right in Mizigo’s face, nearly bellowing out her words and spraying his face with spittle. “Oh, I’m sorry, do you want to piss off the sun-moving, shapeshifting demigod? No? Then for the love of all that is holy, shut up and give her the stupid tracker!”

Demigod? That was a new one.

Mizigo cringed. “Alright,” he snapped, shaking his face. “Just…” He wiggled his legs to see how much free space he had. “Give me a moment to get it out.” He began working a hoof towards a pocket.

Turning back to Twilight, Isosha flashed the rare smile that can only come when one thinks themselves completely, utterly screwed. “I am so so so so so sorry but he can be a bit boneheadedly loyal at times and I would’ve given you the tracker first thing if I’d had it but I didn’t so I couldn’t and I swear it’s not my fault PLEASE DON’T TURN ME INTO AN AGAMA!” She held her grin, hyperventilating through her nose.

Twilight had to stop herself from asking what an agama was. It’d kinda ruin her mystique if she didn’t know what she was supposed to be turning her hapless victim into. She also had to stop herself from assuring Isosha she wouldn’t do any turning of anybody into anything, for much of the same reasons. She settled for giving Isosha a disdainful look that made her squeak again and hop a foot away.

“Here- we- go,” grunted Mizigo. A small glass orb popped out of his pocket, which he nudged toward Twilight. She scooped it up and looked at it. Inside was a cluster of lights, pointing out from the center in lines. Most of them were pointing off in a seemingly arbitrary direction, but three of them were pointing to the ponies in the bar: Applejack, Stormwalker, and herself. The one aimed at her was more than twice as bright as any of the others.

“The, the abada gave us that,” said Isosha quickly. “She said just ignore that one clump and follow the other one. And when we went out, there was only one. So we followed that.”

Twilight sent a quick pulse of magic through the orb to find out the structure inside. It was just a basic tracker for magic concentrated in living things. Of course, with Applejack one of the only magical beings in Zebrabwe outside Kulikulu, it would point only to her. The exception was the cluster that was probably pointing at the palace, with its abadas and ponies. The range was a bit large, but that could track Applejack in the Serembarti with little difficulty.

“I see,” she said, tucking the orb under her wing. “And what about the abada? What can you tell me about her?”

“Not much I’m sorry!” yelped Isosha. “When, when she visited, she had this- this spell that turned her all black, like a shadow or like she was absorbing all the light that fell on her. I couldn’t see any facial features or colors on her.”

Hnng. Unfortunate, but to be expected. Someone ordering an assassination or kidnapping usually wouldn’t be so stupid as to meet with the people they were hiring as themselves if they had the option to not be themselves. On the other hoof: abada. That pointed things toward Mtendaji a little bit more, but she could’ve just been using a messenger of some kind. But even if she was using a messenger, it strengthened the connection to Imayini a bit more. It was the only group Twilight knew of in Kulikulu that had abadas.

Isosha was still rambling. “And even if she hadn’t done that, I couldn’t describe her. All abadas look the same to me,” she mumbled.

Still tied up, Mizigo spoke up from the zebra cluster. “That’s racist.”

“For the last time,” yelled Isosha, whirling on Mizigo, “it’s called the cross-species effect, and it’s been scientifically proven, and it means abadas can’t tell zebras apart either, so shut up!” She twitched and zipped back to Twilight, grinning that “oh crap” grin. “I’m sorry, but-”

“Isosha’s right,” Twilight said blandly to Mizigo. Truth be told, this had always been a bit of psychology that fascinated her, but she couldn’t start gushing about it in front of her prisoners. Being an interrogator sucked. “Any given person is more likely to tell apart individuals of their own species than another species. I assume you’ve worked with abadas more often?”

Mizigo shifted uncomfortably. “Yes.”

“The cross-species effect can be overcome with experience, as you learn to identify different facial and body features. So you might be able to tell abadas apart, but she really can’t. And it’s not her fault.”

Isosha looked at Twilight like she wanted to hug her, then run away screaming at the top of her lungs. She settled for a cough and a look to the other side of the room.

One last thing. “The abada…” Twilight began. “What did she say about me?”

“She, um, she said you, you were like super-powerful,” Isosha spouted, “and she said she saw you move the sun. And some people said that was impossible, but I could’ve sworn I’d seen the sun wiggle a little when she said she’d seen you move it, so I had an open mi-”

“She saw it personally?” said Twilight, taking a step towards Isosha.

“Yes!” squealed Isosha, trying to scramble away without getting up. “She said she was at this political dinner where you said you were going to move the sun and then you did and that’s the truth I swear!” She curled into a ball again and ducked her head underneath her forelegs. “But she said that in the end you were an ordinary pony underneath it all and the weapons she gave us ought to cut through your magic and make you harmless but then they didn’t and-”

Twilight let Isosha babble. Ordinary pony underneath it all. It rang in Twilight’s ears, calling up a memory that was a lot closer than it felt like. That was the phrase Mtendaji had said to her in the medical wing when she’d first woken up, wasn’t it? The abada who’d hired these zebras being at the dinner already steered the investigation a lot towards her, but there was still the possibility, however slim, that they could’ve been lying to try to frame Mtendaji for it (even if that made things a bit complicated). That phrase, though… No one else was around to hear it who made sense: only her guards and Spike (out for obvious reasons), Uvivi (out for saving her), and Mhate (out for various reasons, such as freely talking about grounding). And, after seeing your target move the sun, it sounded like a mantra you’d keep saying to reassure yourself that they could be killed. She’s an ordinary pony underneath it all… She’s an ordinary pony underneath it all…

Technically, Twilight still had no concrete proof that it was Mtendaji. But by now, it’d take an awful lot to convince her it wasn’t.

“-knew I should’ve gotten more info,” said Isosha, “and she was probably being overconfident an-”

“Quiet,” said Twilight. “I’ve got everything I need.”

Isosha stopped and peeked from behind her legs. “Really?” she said quietly. “You’re done?”

Twilight nodded. “I’m done.” Her horn shimmered, and the line of energy around the zebras reached out to ensnare Isosha and draw her back into the group. She didn’t struggle, and actually looked a bit relieved that she didn’t have to deal with Twilight anymore.

Idube was talking even as Twilight turned back to her. “If that’s enough for you, I’ll send someone out to find the police, a-”

And then the door to the bar burst open and another group of zebras poured in, strapped into repeating crossbow harnesses. “Police!” the first one bellowed around the trigger in her mouth. “Fr-” She cut herself off almost immediately as she looked over the bar and the various equines inside. She sighed, removed the trigger from her mouth, and slowly slackened her bow. “We’re tardy, aren’t we?”

“I… I think so,” said Twilight. She glanced at Idube, who shrugged. “Tardy for what?”

“We received numerous reports of an armed gang making threats here,” said the cop, “and I presume that’s the gang?” She pointed at the bound zebras in the corner.

“Uh…” Twilight looked at Idube again, who nodded. “Yeah, they are.”

The cop sighed. “I feel ridiculously incompetent.” To the zebras behind her, she yelled, “Slacken your bows, mares! This area is non-hostile.”

The police quickly set about restraining the mercenaries once Twilight released them from their “rope”. As they did that, their leader, Officer Mapurisa, started talking with Twilight. “So, um, Princess- Your proper title is Princess, right? I apologize, it slipped my mind.”

“Princess, right, but just call me Twilight.”

“Alright, Pri- Twilight. I realize I technically can’t keep you from leaving here, but I was hoping I could ask you a few-”

Idube stepped in. “She wasn’t here when the gang first arrived, but I was. I can give you more information than she can.”

Mapurisa shrugged. “If that’s simpler. I suppose you can leave, Pr- Twilight.”

“You should go,” Idube added to Twilight, “if only to get off the streets. They’re after you, not zebras. We’ll be fine, and we’ll get those carts to you by tomorrow noon at the very latest. Later this evening, most likely.”

“Alright,” said Twilight. It felt a bit strange to just be leaving — it was the exact opposite of what she’d do in Equestria — but Idube had a point. “We’ll see you later, then. And Idube? Thanks for getting Applejack and Zecora here safely.” She looked down and nudged a broken bottle away from her hoof. “Relatively speaking.”

Idube waved a hoof. “It was nothing.”

Zecora was nursing a sore leg (she could still walk just fine, though), and Applejack and Stormwalker seemed to be held captive by a zebra grilling them about how pegasi could walk on clouds. They all seemed happy to get going once Twilight suggested it. “I’ve already seen enough of this place to last me a lifetime,” said Applejack.

“It probably would be best to get going as soon as possible,” said Stormwalker. “Obviously, we won’t be in danger if we’re attacked-” She glanced at the corner where the mercenaries had been held. “-but it would still be unpleasant.”

“And right now,” said Zecora, “I’m not at my best.” She placed some weight on her bad leg and twitched slightly, but that was it. “I think I am in need of rest.” She took a few more steps just fine. “All I need to heal my wounds is a simple, good, long snooze.”

“Glad to hear you’re okay in spite of your leg,” said Twilight. “Tell me if you need any help, okay?” She put her hoof on the door pedal.

“Um, uh, hey.”

A zebra cautiously poked her head out from behind the bar and said quietly, “Um, uh, I’m, I’m, I’m the, uh, the bartender, and I, I was just, uh, y’know, just wondering if, if you were, uh, gonna just, just gonna leave it all like, all like this, or if, uh, you were gonna, gonna pay for it, and, and, and how I, how I should… I’llshutupnow.”

“Oh! Sorry. Don’t worry, I got it,” said Twilight. How could she forget the way the place had been so thoroughly trashed? Her horn started glowing and the pieces of a broken table lifted into the air, surrounded by a lavender haze. Each piece found its proper place and the table fused back together. Twilight immediately went to work on the next table. Every zebra in the place (except for Zecora) gasped and took a step away from Twilight, staring at her display of magic.

As she went down the bar, repairing every bit of damage she could find, Twilight smiled at the bartender. “Sorry about that. But it’s been a weird week for me, and I guess it followed me here. I hope I’ve gotten things fixed up for you.”

The bartender’s ear twitched as she looked over her spotless establishment, then she suddenly grinned broadly in a “You know what? I don’t care anymore” sort of way. “Yeeeeaaaah. Greeeeaaaat. Thaaaanks.” She grabbed a bottle from behind the bar, popped the cap off and took a loooong drink from it. Slamming the bottle down, she yelled, “If any of you cops need a drink when you’re done, the bar’s still open!”

25 - Back in the Saddle

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Just as Applejack had thought it would, Twilight’s appearance in the bar had cleared up everything like that, and it was barely a minute before she was questioning the zebras. She’d taken the time to cast a translation spell on Applejack, though. As Applejack gave Twilight her space, she looked at one of her hooves. She didn’t feel different. She’d had a spell cast on her, shouldn’t she feel different? That was always something that’d bugged her about magic.

Bhiza was staring at Twilight with something resembling awe. “Twilight is full of power very,” she whispered to Applejack.

“Yeah,” said Applejack, “and this ain-”

Bhiza gasped and started staring at Applejack. “You…” she whispered, “you are speaking Zebran.”

“Twilight cast a translation spell on me,” Applejack said. She shrugged. “Guess y’all can understand me better, now.”

Bhiza gaped, then frowned. “Wait… you say…” Her voice abruptly shifted, going from slow, stilted, and jerky to fast, smooth, and flowing. “You can comprehend the eloquences emanating from my mouth when I speak thusly in my native language?”

“Well… yes, but…” Applejack cocked her head. “I ain’t the greatest with words, but I don’t think you’re usin’ ‘eloquence’ right. And that whole thing just sounds real awkward.”

Bhiza squealed with glee. “You can! Omigosh this is so great!” She jumped on Applejack in a bear hug. “Now we can actually talk properly, without an-” Then she stopped and let go so abruptly Applejack almost fell to the floor. She coughed. “Sorry,” she said quietly. “Is… is that too per-”

“Nah, you’re fine with that,” Applejack said. She rolled her shoulders. “Just warn me next time, ‘kay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Bhiza grinned. “I’m sorry, but you just have no idea how flipping annoying it is to try and hold a decent conversation in a language you can barely speak. You’ve been great about keeping it easy for me,” she added quickly, “but I didn’t even know the word for ‘breathe’. And now…” She laughed. “Ooo, boy, that’s just gone.”

“For a few minutes, anyway.”

“It’s enough. And besides, we’ll-” Bhiza’s gaze snapped to Twilight’s guard — Stormwalker, wasn’t it? — who was standing behind her, trying to look intimidating while Twilight asked the attackers questions. And actually doing a decent job of it, or so Applejack thought. After a second, Bhiza whispered, “She’s a pegasus? She’s a pegasus.”

“Well, yeah, she’s a pegasus, but wh-”

Bhiza zipped right up next to Stormwalker and lightly poked her in the side. “Hey.”

Stormwalker ignored her.

“Bhiza,” Applejack said with a sigh, “do-”

Poke. “Hey.”

Stormwalker ignored her.

“Seriously, you sh-”

Poke poke. “Hey.”

Stormwalker ignored her.

“Are you lis-”

Bhiza moved her poke to Stormwalker’s wing. “Hey.”

Stormwalker’s mouth narrowed and she flared her wing, clouting Bhiza in the face.

Bhiza was up again in an instant, but rather than poking Stormwalker again, she started examining Stormwalker’s wing closely, reaching out like she wanted to touch the feathers. Stormwalker glared at Bhiza and sidestepped away from her, but Bhiza just took a step forward without taking her gaze from the wing.

Applejack sighed and dragged Bhiza away from Stormwalker. “Y’all really have a personal space issue we need to do somethin’ about.”

“But… but she’s got wings!” Bhiza protested, pointing at said wings. “Wings! I want wings!”

Stormwalker glared at Bhiza. “Yes. I have wings. What of it?”

“Zebras don’t have wings,” said Bhiza. She broke out of Applejack’s grasp and went right up next to Stormwalker again. “This is really weird and really cool.” She started prodding at the joint between Stormwaker’s wing and trunk.

“Whoa hey hey hey!” snapped Stormwalker. She danced away from Bhiza, flaring her wing at the same time. “Hooves off the wing! Don’t- don’t touch me like that!”

“But I wanna look!” protested Bhiza. “I’ve never seen this before, and-”

Stormwalker gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Uffh. Fine. Look, but don’t. Touch.” She opened her wing to let Bhiza get a better look at it. Bhiza immediately started stroking the feathers, prompting Stormwalker to clout her in the face again. “I said don’t touch.”

“Your wings are soft,” Bhiza said, rubbing her nose as she got back up. “How do you stand on clouds?”

Applejack groaned and tried pulling Bhiza away again. “Bhiza, c’mon. I don’t think she wants you buggin’ her.”

“By standing on them,” said Stormwalker.

“But… but they’re clouds!” said Bhiza. “What do you do to stand on them?”

“Plant our hooves and keep our legs straight.”

“…That’s just plain standing.”

“So it is.” Stormwalker was beginning to smirk.

“And besides that?” grumbled Bhiza.

“We also breathe to be sure we don’t run out of air.”

Bhiza planted her face in her hoof. “No, I mean- Applejack, help me out here.”

“Bhiza, there- there really ain’t anythin’ else they do.”

“But what about the magic?” Bhiza said, wiggling her hooves. “What do you do with that?”

Stormwalker shrugged. “Clouds are just more solid to pegasi. We can stand on them, build with them, use them as beds without actually doing anything. I guess that kind of magic’s just passive.”

“…That’s disappointing.”

“You’re just jealous that you can’t fly or stand on clouds.” Stormwalker flashed Bhiza a smirk.

“Maybe I am,” Bhiza pouted. “It’s still disappointing.”

Applejack sighed. “Can the two of y’all just shut your traps? It’s gettin’ real annoyin’ listenin’ to you two go at it.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault,” said Bhiza. She pointed at Stormwalker. “She’s leading me on.”

“Lead- leading you on?” Stormwalker snorted. “I was telling you the truth, you just weren’t listening.”

“You weren’t being very clear,” Bhiza snapped, “and-”

This went on for quite some time. Applejack had never been happier for cops to burst into the room.

Bhiza broke off from her argument with Stormwalker the moment the cops were in the room. “Listen,” she said to Applejack, “I don’t know where we’ll be staying right now, but I’ll be a part of the group that gets your carts to the palace, and I’ll tell you then, okay? Then you can visit me if you can and you want.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Applejack. “Don’t know if I’ll be able to see you, but if I can, I will.”

“Great. And…” Bhiza dug the earring and the glass sphere out of her saddlebags and shoved them on Applejack. The sphere, Applejack noticed, had a lot more lights pointing out. “Show these to Twilight and tell me what’s going on with them, will you? I wanna know.”

“Sure thing.” Applejack dropped them into her own saddlebags. As she did, she noticed Twilight walking over. “I think we’re leavin’ now. Be seein’ you, Bhiza.”

“See you later,” Bhiza said with a nod.

The moment they were outside the bar, Twilight pounced on Applejack and Zecora. “Thank goodness you girls’re okay!” she said, hugging Applejack almost tight enough for it to qualify as a chokehold. “I was worried sick about you!”

“It’s- nice- t’see- you too- sugarcube,” gasped Applejack, grappling to no avail at Twilight’s forelegs, “but why- the- worry? We- had- a good- guide.”

“It’s not just that,” Twilight said as she released Applejack. “It’s…” She looked furtively around the empty street, then whispered loudly, “Someone’s trying to kill me.”

Applejack gasped. “Really?” She’d heard it before, but hadn’t really processed it just yet. It was a lot to take in.

Zecora’s eyes narrowed. “That problem is quite unexpected. You think our conflicts are connected?”

“Yes, but…” Twilight looked around again. “Well… hang on a sec.” A quick burst of magic, and the ponies’ coats were replaced with zebra coats, and the extraneous bits on Twilight and Stormwalker vanished. Applejack blinked and stared at her legs; after a few seconds, she decided that, no matter how nice stripes looked, she preferred straight orange to black and white.

“Come on,” Twilight said, nodding up the street. “I’ll explain on the way.”

“You think all this is really necessary?” Applejack asked as they started walking. “It’s a bit much, ain’t it?”

Twilight sighed. “I wish. See…”

And then Twilight explained everything. How she’d managed to get into a political dinner. How she got poisoned and almost died. How she went to a theatre and nearly got shot. How she’d decided to check up on Applejack just in case.

“…and then I entered the bar to see… well, that,” said Twilight. “So, I’m not sure, but…” She looked up at the buildings around them. “There might be someone out there, looking for us. Hence…” She held up her zebrafied leg. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Ah. Y’know, while we’re thinkin’ ‘bout it… while we were out on the Serembarti, some bandit on an impen- an impundulu tried to attack us.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. Lightnin’s real powerful, and it almost got us.”

“But you’re both okay,” Twilight said. She said it quietly, as if to reassure herself. “You’re okay.”

“They missed us as they ran amok,” said Zecora, “if only, I think, due to luck.”

“Okay, but why mention it? Hypothetically, it could’ve just been some roaming bandit.”

“I don’t think so,” said Applejack. “They had some magic stuff with ‘em.” She pulled the sphere out of her saddlebag, which now had more lines than she could count. “There was this…”

“That tracks magic,” Twilight immediately said. “Basically, it points to anybody who can use magic within its range. The zebras who attacked you had the same thing.” She pulled an identical sphere from the empty space hidden by her invisible wing. “Considering you’re one of the only magic-users in Zebrabwe, it’d be easy for them to find you with these.”

“That’s what I thought. And there was also…” Applejack showed Twilight the earring.

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Ooo. What’s it do?”

“We don’t know. You fit it ‘round your ear, like this-” Applejack demonstrated, quickly taking it back out before the white noise could start blaring. “-but it ain’t long ‘fore it just starts screamin’ somethin’ fierce.”

“Hmm.” Twilight plucked the earring from Applejack, her unseen horn glowing, and stared at it for a moment, probably examining it with magic. “From what I can tell, this is some kind of two-way communication device, probably so whoever was trying to kill you could let their employer know when the job was done. I’m pretty sure it’s audio-only, and…” A spark popped from where her horn should’ve been and traveled down the earring. Twilight flinched and clapped a hoof to her ear. “Yep, it’s counterspelled up the wazoo.”

“Counterwhatnow?”

“It’s got a bunch of spells on it to keep someone else from misusing it. Basically, you put it on, you say a password, and then you can talk to whoever’s at the other end. You don’t say the password, and it just spits a bunch of white noise into your ear to force you to take it off.”

“Oh.”

“And it does something similar if you try to trace its magic and find the other end,” continued Twilight. “Follow its signature, and it gives you a massive headache via magic feedback unless you know the right tracing spell. Which…” She turned the earpiece over in her telekinesis. “I could find in a few days, it’s not that complicated, but I don’t want to spend all my free time trying to find this thing’s partner when I’ve got more important things to do.” She turned her attention to Applejack. “We’re meeting with Inkosi tomorrow.”

Applejack gulped. “Tomorrow? Already?” That was really soon. After several days’ worth of travel, she just wanted a day or so where she could kick back and rest. Work was nice, but it was a pain to do it all the time. And now she was going to meet with a king with almost no preparation.

“Tomorrow evening, yeah.” (Which made Applejack slightly happier; she could at least relax for a little bit, if a lot less than she’d been hoping.) “So, as much as I’d like to examine this a bit more-” Twilight wiggled the earpiece back and forth. “-it really wouldn’t be worth it just yet unless I have a brainwave and can solve it in seconds.”

“A most unfortunate turn of events,” said Zecora. “And it might be me, but you sound tense.”

“It’s not you.” Twilight kicked at a a bit of litter on the side of the road. “I get here, I’m helpless against assassinations, and then I’m not helpless, but there isn’t enough time to do much about it.” She huffed. “These last few days have been… just a whirlwind for me, and I really haven’t had much time to get my hooves on the ground before I’m whisked away again with lots of sand in my eye.”

“Well, we’re here now,” said Applejack, “so that’s one load off your back.”

Twilight smiled. “Yeah. It is.” Her ears drooped a little. “Still, I don’t think I’ll really feel calm until we find out who’s behind this. I’ve got some ideas, and they’re pretty good ones at that, but… I don’t know.”

“Hnng.” Applejack could relate. One of the lesser reasons she hadn’t stayed with the Oranges way back when she was a filly was because she liked to do stuff; with the Oranges, she only had to sit and look pretty, while back at Sweet Apple Acres, she’d be plowing the fields, or feeding the chickens, or learning to buck apples, or any one of a large number of things. She knew what Twilight was feeling; she was downbeat not because someone was trying to kill her (not entirely, anyway), but because her role prevented her from doing anything about it.

So, first way to get Twilight’s mind off this: ask her what she’d done to get those ideas. It’d make her think about what she had done. “So, uh, who do y’all think it is?”

“That abada CEO I told you about. Mtendaji.”

Great. It just had to be the one with the hardest name to pronounce. “Uh… Mendaji… Muhten- Men-”

“Mte. Mtendaji.”

“Twi, it’s kinda hard to say.”

“I know. You’ll get used to it.”

Applejack flicked her ears and cleared her throat. “So you think it’s her. Why her?”

“Oh, small things, mostly,” Twilight said, waving a hoof. “This and that. There hasn’t been any one big clue or anything like that, just a lot of little stuff that all slowly points her way.”

“Ah.” Applejack nudged a rock out of the road. “So if it is her, why d’you think she’s doin’ it?”

“From what I’ve heard? Money. Apparently, abadas don’t believe in diplomacy for diplomacy’s sake. They’re more focused on making money.”

Applejack blinked. “Wha- Really? What about friendships between countries? Don’t they believe in that?”

“To them, it’s nothing more than another step in the Search for More Money. They probably think Equestria’s here to try and muscle in on their territory.”

“That’s crazy.” Applejack flicked her tail. “Bits ain’t that great.”

Zecora nodded. “Though having money’s very sound, it does not make the world go ‘round.”

“That’s the way they see it,” Twilight said with a shrug. “Maybe there’s something else involved, but I don’t know.”

“That strange,” muttered Applejack. “That’s real, real strange.”

“Believe me, I know.”

The four of them walked in silence for another few seconds when Applejack realized something. Everyone was a pony or zebra. And that meant someone was missing. “Hey, uh, where’s Spike at?”

“He’s up the palace.” Twilight pointed up at the large fortress-like building on the far side of Kulikulu. It was closer than it’d been when they started, but still a ways off. “I told him to stay in the embassy, just in case something happened to me, so he could contact Celestia.”

“You ain’t worried that with you gone, he might be in-”

“Nah, I laid down plenty of spells to protect him and he’s got like three guards protecting him. He’ll be okay.”

Spike was most definitely not okay.

“This is mine!” he yelled, waving a glowing gem in Twilight’s face the moment she entered the embassy.

“Spike, I just ne-”

“Mine! You can’t just take my gems whenever you want!”

“Spike-”

“Miiiiine!”

“Spike,” said Applejack, “I think y’all need to cool your britches a little. I’m sure she mea-”

“Quiet, Applejack,” said Spike, “I’m tr- Applejack!” He sprang forward and hugged her around the neck. “And Zecora!” Another hug. “Man, am I glad to see you guys! I was really worried you weren’t gonna make it!”

“There were times when I thought that, too,” Applejack said as she rubbed Spike’s spines, “but here we are, and we’re fine. Everything okay here?”

“Yep! I’m learning my Zebran letters, and it’s coming along great. Livingstone’s a great teacher.”

Livingstone called out from a room over. “Back in Equestria, languages were my specialty, yes. And it is a great help that Spike seems to have a talent for languages as well.”

“And no crazy assassins tried to break in and murder us, either. So that’s a plus.”

Applejack hid her snort by looking around the embassy. It wasn’t at all what she expected. Hardly like a diplomatic building at all, it looked more like someone’s house. “Y’know, Twi, this place ain’t real official.”

“Like I said, it’s temporary, and they had to find it on really short notice,” said Twilight. “Imayini’s got a permanent consulate, and it’s a lot easier to see that it is permanent. More official. Still, take a look around! It’s a great place, and you’ll be staying here a while.”

The embassy was interesting enough (she had her own bedroom!), but it was larger than Sweet Apple Acres’ farmhouse, and Applejack kept getting lost, even though it wasn’t that big. She started by looking for the most important thing, the bathroom. She didn’t need to go right then, but who knew when nature would call? Applejack kept blundering down the halls, opening doors and not finding the bathroom, and slowly began to get cranky.

That vanished when one of the doors she shoved open happened to be Twilight’s room. Twilight was staring down at the earpiece and the trackers, looking mildly despondent and occasionally rustling her wings. She didn’t look great; she looked lost in her own world, as if she needed someone to yank her out of it.

Applejack cleared her throat. Twilight didn’t respond. “Hey, Twilight, where’s the bathroom?”

Twilight looked up, and Applejack could tell she really wasn’t looking at her. “Hmm? Oh, uh, end of the hall on the right.” She gestured vaguely and went back to staring at the tracker.

Applejack sighed, walked into the room, and sat down opposite Twilight. “What’s wrong, sugarcube?”

“Nothing, really,” said Twilight. “I’m just being obsessive.”

“No. You? That ain’t never happened before.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Ha ha. No, I’m actually being obsessive this time, not making sure I’m doing things correctly. Whenever I look at this-” She wiggled the earpiece. “-I keep thinking, yeah, decounterspelling that would be a good project, but then I remember we’ve got Important Things to do tomorrow and I wouldn’t be able to make much headway on decounterspelling it before we had to do those Important Things.”

“Oh.” This was something Applejack couldn’t really relate to, at least not on the same level as Twilight. Farm work was simple; you started it, and then you finished it. It might take a while, but you could never go away and leave it half-done, to be completed later. Maybe she could remove what causing Twilight the issue, though. She reached out with a foreleg and cautiously pulled the objects away from Twilight. “Why don’t I just take these to my room, so you don’t have to look at ‘em?”

After a few seconds of lip-biting, Twilight reluctantly nodded. “That’d probably be for the best. I could barely think with that mental feedback, anyway.”

Then her eyes slowly widened. Twilight broke out into a wide grin. “Buuuuuut…” She snatched both the earpiece and one of the trackers from Applejack. Sparks of magic began jumping between the two. “If we link the earpiece with something that automatically tracks magic and tune it to the earpiece’s frequency,” she said quickly as she squinted at the two objects, “then we should have something that can track magic while ignoring the feedback, bec- Ah-ha!”

The lights in the tracker started jumping around, then vanished altogether. After a moment, a single solitary line lit up, pointing off towards one of the wall. It was constantly wiggling back and forth, but only by a few degrees. Grinning, Twilight proudly presented it to Applejack. “Because,” she said triumphantly, “the feedback is primarily mental, and has no effect on a mindless object like this! We can now track the receiving end at no risk to us.”

The tracker suddenly and violently exploded, throwing chunks of glass everywhere. Pieces pounded Applejack’s body before she could do anything to protect herself, one bouncing right off her nose. She was lucky, and nothing managed to cut her or break anything. In fact, it was so abrupt she didn’t even have time to move; she was just left in the exact position she’d been in before, sitting in shock and staring at the space where the tracker had been.

Twilight blinked and shook several large glass shards off of her. “…So long as we remember to not let the little bit of non-mental feedback build up and overload the tracker,” she said sheepishly. “Whoops.” She cautiously rolled the other tracker over to herself.

“Hang on,” said Applejack. “You sure that’s a good idea? I mean…”

“Trust me, AJ,” Twilight said as magic bounced back and forth between the tracker and the earpiece, “my special talent is magic, I know what I’m doing.”

Applejack took her hat off to examine a hole where a grape-sized chunk had blown right through it without slowing down. She raised an eyebrow at Twilight as she put it back on.

“I do now! There were just some variables I forgot to account for, that’s all!”

Applejack wasn’t reassured until the new and improved tracker lasted a whole minute without exploding. Instead, the whole sphere flashed once every five seconds or so. “It’s so we can bleed off the magic easily,” Twilight explained. “Once the feedback reaches a critical energy state, it triggers an interlocking series of automatic failsafes to use the excess magic for simple light production, thereby keeping the spell matrix as a whole low-energy, stable, and not-explodey.”

The arcanobabble made a slight whistling noise as it flew over Applejack’s head. She just smiled, nodded, and went, “Uh-huh. Uh-huh.” All that mattered was that the thing wouldn’t explode any more.

The two of them stared at the tracker for a moment, with its slightly wobbling line. “Well?” said Twilight. “Do you want to follow it?”

“What, really?” said Applejack. “Just… follow that wherever it leads, probably someplace real dangerous?”

“It won’t be that dangerous. From the strength of it and its direction…” Twilight tilted her head at the tracker. “It looks like the destination is right inside the palace.”

“And go straight to whoever’s comin’ after you? Twi, I ain’t scared for you, I’m just wonderin’ what you’ll do. Scold ‘em?”

“Maybe. Confront them about it, convince them to turn themselves in. If they don’t, find Inkosi’s people and tell them what I’ve found. Something like that. Applejack, I don’t want to have to lay shields on you whenever you want to leave the embassy and keep maintaining the wards around this place. I want to find whoever’s doing this and stop them, just so I don’t have to look over my shoulder every minute.” She paused. “Plus, I’m… kinda bored right now, I’m all fired up, and I’ve got nothing better to do.” She stood up. “You wanna come? You wanna find out who sent the impundulu after you?”

Applejack hesitated. Common sense screamed, Are you serious? No. This is stupid. No. Don’t do it. No no no no no no no no no. She’d be walking right up to someone who’d tried to kill Twilight and almost succeeded. Someone who’d sent a zebra out on an impundulu to kill her. There was really no way to put it that didn’t sound incredibly idiotic.

But on the other hoof, she’d be lying if she said her curiosity hadn’t been piqued. Yes, she could hear later about who’d done it and why, but that just didn’t have the same zing as simply being there when it happened. And she’d be with Twilight. That alone pretty much guaranteed her survival, one way or another. Not to mention that one of the guards would probably insist on going with Twilight, so that was another bit of protection. And, well, her blood was running hot, too. She’d be restless if she stayed here.

“What the hay,” she muttered, “I’ll come with you.”

“Great! I was hoping you would.”

When Twilight notified everyone else of her plans, no one took her up on the offer, not even Spike (“It sounds interesting, but I’m done running around for the next few days. Just stay safe, alright? And keep Applejack safe, too.”) or Zecora (She flexed her leg, winced a little, and said, “I’m not yet feeling at my best and think I am in need of rest.”). The only exception was Stormwalker, and even she grumbled a bit (“At this point, Your Highness, I’m only doing it because it’s my duty, not because you need it, but I still can’t let you trot into wherever alone.”).

And so the three ponies stood in the hallway, staring at the tracker. “Well,” Twilight said eventually, “it’s definitely pointing in the general direction of the Imayini consulate. It could be pointing somewhere else, but we won’t find out until we get there. Come on!” She trotted off, keeping an eye on the tracker.

Stormwalker huffed as she and Applejack followed after Twilight. “You know her personally. Is she always like this?” she whispered to Applejack. “Always jumping on small threads and following them to the end, no matter what?”

“If anythin’,” Applejack whispered back, “she’s usually worse.”

“…Oh…”

26 - You're a Lie

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Twilight walked down the hall, staring at the tracker as the line within slowly swung to point more and more at the wall. This might just be it. She had a compass pointing to one side of a communication relay, the side of someone who’d tried to have Applejack killed. Someone who was almost definitely trying to have Twilight killed as well. With a little luck, they might be able to get every little bit of this whole mess sorted out before tomorrow, and she could rest easily tonight.

Of course, it might be pointing at a patsy. Or the culprit might not have the earpiece. Or any one of a number of other things. But Twilight tried not to think about that.

“Do you really think you can talk Mtendaji into giving herself up?” asked Stormwalker. “Assuming it’s her, she did try to kill you after she knew you could move the sun.”

“I have no idea,” Twilight said, no taking her eyes off the tracker, “but I can try.”

“No offense, but I thi-”

“Don’t try to sway her,” Applejack said. “When she gets like this, there ain’t nothin’ y’all can do to change her mind.”

Stormwalker paused. “Absolutely nothing?”

“Absolutely nothin’.”

Twilight barely noticed. She was too wrapped up in following the tracker.

Finally, the tracker was pointing perfectly perpendicularly to the wall. A blank wall, but then it was unlikely it’d be pointing at a door. Twilight lifted the tracker up and down. The light moved enough for Twilight to guess that the other earpiece was less than fifty feet away. She looked down one side of the hall. The next door was quite a ways off. She looked down the other side of the hall.

The door to the Imayini consulate was less than ten feet away.

Twilight looked at Applejack and Stormwalker. Stormwalker huffed and rolled her eyes. Applejack jerked her head at the door. “Well, go on.” Twilight nodded and put her hoof on the door pedal.

Someone yelled down the hall. “YourHighnessIwouldstronglyrecommendagainstthat!” And then Captain Mlinzi of the Zebrabwean Royal Guard had plastered himself in front of the door, looking terrified and breathing heavily.

“Um… hello.” Twilight took a few steps back so her muzzle wasn’t less than an inch from Mlinzi’s. She glanced to one side. A small group of zebras, all of them armored, was following Mlinzi.

“Hello,” said Mlinzi in a voice on the verge of panic. “Your Highness, do not go in there. We have evidence that your would-be murderer is a me-”

“-is Mtendaji?”

“-mber of… Ima…” Mlinzi blinked. “Y-yeah, actually. How, how’d you know?”

“A bunch of little things added up to her,” said Twilight. “It’s a long story. How’d you know?”

“Also a long story, but tracking down things,” said Mlinzi. “The quarrel. Talking to the cooks who were responsible for that dinner. Things like that. But what really did it was the assassins who attacked your friend Spike. It was a bit tricky — magic was involved, and no offense, but I frigging hate magic — but the information we got from their interrogations let us follow the money trail back to Mtendaji. And as far as we know, she’s in there.” He tapped the consulate door.

And that was it. Confirmation from another source. Mtendaji definitely did it. Twilight expected it to feel like a lightning bolt, but if anything, it was more of a faint, half-hearted spark. Lackluster. Yeah, that’s the answer. You knew it already for quite some time, didn’t you? Well, at least you know for sure, now. But if the Zebrabwean Guard knew, too, they’d be more effective at putting her away than Twilight could hope for.

“So if you know it’s Mtendaji, why’re you going in there?” said Mlinzi. “What were you planning on doing?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” said Twilight. “I was thinking that maybe I could convince her to turn herself in.”

“If you could, that’d be great,” said Mlinzi. “I brought along some of my zebras-” He pointed over his shoulder at the group of seven weapon-carrying zebras that had arrived. “-just in case things go wrong, but if you can just get her to walk out, I would love you forever.”

“Uh… okay.” Twilight put her hoof back on the pedal, stepped, and- “It’s locked.”

“Joy.” Mlinzi pointed to the group of zebras. “One of you, go back to the barracks and tell them we need the ba-”

“I don’t think you’ll need to go quite that far,” Twilight said. “Hang on a sec.” She reached out with her magic and began poking the door around with it. The tingle from grounding still felt strange, but with earth pony magic mixed in, it didn’t actually do anything besides bug her. The lock itself was a simple deadbolt one, and Twilight flicked it back in a second. She nudged the door open. “And there we go.”

Mlinzi stared at the door. “Okay, never mind. I don’t hate magic. I’m in a love-hate relationship with it.”

“Trust me, y’all ain’t seen the half of it yet,” said Applejack. “Y’all ain’t seen the half of the half of it.”

“I can only imagine.” Mlinzi looked at Twilight, at Stormwalker, at Applejack. Turning to his zebras, he said, “I think I’ll be safe going in alone with them. You all stay out here, but charge in if you hear the signal.”

“Is the signal screaming bloody murder and lots of obscenities?” piped up a zebra near the back.

“The signal is screaming bloody murder and lots of obscenities,” Mlinzi said with a nod.

The lobby was deserted except for Uvivi and Visi having a conversation across the receptionist’s desk. Uvivi’s nose horn still hadn’t grown back (Twilight briefly wondered how long it took for abada horns to grow, and if their forehead and nose horns were any different, structurally), but she’d crowned the top of the nub with a little sort of cap.

“-which is crazy,” Uvivi said, “because there’s no way th-” Upon hearing Twilight’s group enter the lobby, she twitched and spun around. She blinked. “Um… Visi, weren’t you supposed to lock that door? The consulate is closed, right?”

“I… It is, and I did,” Visi said slowly. “I know I did.”

“Oooookay, then,” said Uvivi. She coughed and grinned. “Anyway, um, nice to see you again, Twilight, even if you broke in for it.” She leaned to one side and stared at the door. “How’d you do it, anyway? The door was grounded. Any chance you can teach me that? Why’re you here?”

Mlinzi spoke up before Twilight could. “We were looking for Mtendaji. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?”

Uvivi frowned. “Uh… I don’t think so…”

“In her office,” said Visi. “Take that door-” (Twilight stole a quick look at the tracker. It was pointing roughly at that door.) “-head down the hall, third door on right.”

“Thank you,” Mlinzi said with a nod. Closely followed by the ponies, he set off through the door and down the hall beyond. It wasn’t especially long or busy, and they were halfway down when-

“Hey!” Uvivi came trotting from the lobby and fell into line next to Twilight. “Um, why do you all want to see Mtendaji?” She craned her head to whisper to Twilight. “Especially the guard. That never means anything good. Why the guard? What happened?”

Even after studying friendship for years, Twilight still didn’t know how to handle questions like that. She settled for blunt. “Mtendaji’s the one who’s been trying to kill me.”

Uvivi blanched. “What?” she said quietly. “That’s… No. Really? She’s the one who…?”

“She tried to go after me, too,” added Applejack. “Twice. And we’ve got evidence for that, too.”

“Um, um, okay,” mumbled Uvivi. She rumpled her mane. “That’s, um, wow. Okay. Okay. You, you really have evidence?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Well, it’s, I know,” said Uvivi, still playing with her mane, “but it’s, um, it’s a lot to take in. Maybe. If it’s true. It’s, I mean, it probably is, but, um-”

“Your Highness,” cut in Mlinzi, “Mtendaji’s office is locked. Is there any chance you-”

“Can you stop asking her to do things?” asked Stormwalker. “She’s a princess, not a-”

Mlinzi interrupted again. “Do you want to catch Mtendaji?”

“Yes.”

“Can you open the door?”

“…No.”

“I’d open it if I could,” said Mlinzi. “But I can’t. So…” He turned to Twilight expectantly. “Please, Your Highness?”

Twilight threw Stormwalker a look as she magically fiddled with the lock. “I’d be doing this even if Mlinzi wasn’t here, you know.”

Stormwalker huffed. She did that a lot.

Mtendaji’s office was quite a bit larger than Twilight had been expecting, large enough to fit the whole party in comfortably and then some. Of course, she was a CEO, but this was still just a consulate, not Imayini’s headquarters. The back wall was lined with shelves, which were filled with haphazardly stacked binders and overflowing papers. There wasn’t much in the way of decoration beyond a painting of the sun setting behind a mountain. Mtendaji herself was hunched over a desk, scribbling something down. Compared to her, the desk was oversized, a bit big even for Twilight. Maybe it’d been originally designed for a zebra.

Mtendaji looked up, blinked and, when she saw Mlinzi, visibly twitched. “Um… that door was locked.”

“It was,” said Twilight.

“And grounded.”

“It was.”

“…May I ask how you did it?”

“You may not.” Twilight didn’t like to admit it, but knowing Mtendaji was her almost-murderer, she found stringing her along to be more enjoyable than it had a right to be. “And you wouldn’t be able to do it even if I told you.”

Mtendaji blinked again, then grinned. It was almost convincing. “So. Um. Hey. What brings you in here?”

Twilight didn’t say anything and kept staring at the tracker. It was pointing towards the back wall, right at the safe. She moved it back and forth; the light moved more than it ever had before, always pointing at the safe. She picked her next words carefully. “My friend Applejack found a magical communication artifact of some kind on in the Serembarti,” she said (Applejack smiled hesitantly and waved), “and according to my tracking spell, the other side of it is in your safe.”

Mtendaji froze for an instant, blinked, but quickly recovered. “So, what’re you saying?” she asked. “You think that just because it points to my safe, I’m involved? No offense, but you might’ve messed up your tracking spell. You think I’m the one that hired that bandit?”

Twilight and Applejack exchanged glances. “We ain’t said nothin’ ‘bout no bandits,” said Applejack.

Mtendaji’s mouth began curling into an “O”.

Uvivi cleared her throat. “M-ma’am, you- you weren’t involved in this, w-were you?”

“I, I, no,” said Mtendaji quietly. “Don’t, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ma’am,” Mlinzi said flatly, “we’ve traced the money used to pay for the assassins who tried to kill two members of the Equestrian ambassadorial mission back to you. And that’s just the start. You won’t get anywhere if you keep denying this.”

Mtendaji froze, then huffed. “Fine,” she muttered. “Yes, I tried to have Princess Twilight killed.”

“You WHAT?!” bellowed Uvivi. “That’s- that’s- No! You- You can’t- NO!”

“Do you know how close we are to going belly-up?” snapped Mtendaji. “One good deal isn’t going to save us, and if Equestria tries to muscle in on-”

“But- But- No!” spluttered Uvivi. “No! That’s- I- You know what, I quit! You can do your own diplomacy, you-! You-! Gah!” Before anyone could say anything else, she stomped out of the room and screamed up and down the halls, “Mtendaji tried to kill Princess Twilight! Mtendaji tried to kill Princess Twilight!” The echoes were still ringing several seconds later.

It was Applejack who broke the silence. “Hold up. Y’all thought we were gonna try to… to muscle in on your bit of business?”

“Well, yeah,” Mtendaji said, “why else wo-”

“Excuse me.” Something bumped Twilight from behind. Okubi was entering the office, lightly shoving aside anyone in her way. She tapped Mlinzi on the shoulder. “I would like a word with Mtendaji. Right here, right now.”

“Look, ma’am,” Mlinzi said, glaring at her, “I get that you probably want to have a nice chat with her, but we’re i-”

“I would like a word with Mtendaji,” repeated Okubi. “Right here, right now. Ten seconds will be sufficient.”

“Fine.” Mlinzi stepped to one side. “One one-thousand,” he whispered loudly.

Mtendaji rolled her eyes as Okubi stepped up to the desk. “I got this, Okubi, you don’t need to babys-”

In a flash, Okubi reached across the desk, hooked her front hooves behind Mtendaji’s neck, and smashed her head into the desk. Hard. The entire desk shook; papers fell to the floor, an inkwell rolled off and shattered, and when Mtendaji raised her head back up, she was moaning and clutching her nose between her hooves. A few drops of blood dribbled out and dropped onto the desktop.

“Imbecile,” said Okubi. Then she turned around and walked right out of the office, everyone staring after her in shock. Did that really just happen?

Mlinzi broke the silence with a cough. “Nine one-thousand,” he muttered. “Huh.”

Mtendaji dabbed at her nose, glaring at the droplet of blood on one of the tips of her hooves. “Stupid…” she muttered, wiping it off on her desk.

Twilight almost asked her if she was okay, purely by reflex. But she didn’t really care, one way or another, and Mtendaji obviously wasn’t hurting that badly. Besides, some small part of Twilight said, she deserved it.

“So that’s it?” Mlinzi asked. “You tried to kill off an ambassador just because you were afraid she might be a business rival?”

“To be fair, she and her country’d be an exceptional business rival,” Mtendaji said, wiping her nose off with a tissue, “but I don’t get what’s so ‘that’s it?’ about it. She was going to take our money.”

“Well, to be honest,” said Twilight, “trying to cause an international incident just for money is… kinda disappointing.”

“Disappointing?” said Mtendaji. “You find money disappointing? It’s… It’s money.”

“And that’s the thing: money’s everywhere,” said Twilight. “They make more of it every day. It’s way too common for something like… something like this.”

“…But it’s money. The stuff you buy other stuff with. The stuff nations depend on. It’s one of the most important resources in the world. How is that disappointing?”

“‘Cause money ain’t the only thing out there,” said Applejack. “And money can’t buy everythin’. Happiness, to start.”

“No, but you can rent it.”

“But it’s still just money!” said Twilight. “You tried to kill the sovereign of another nation just for money!”

“In this case, it’s not just money,” said Mtendaji with a snort. “It’s lots of money. Our last mine out west was a colossal bust, basically a smelter we kept throwing lijamu into, and we’re barely staying afloat. And if you- ponies came over here, you’d see our predicament and snatch all our opportunities right out from under us, giving you access to Zebrabwe’s foreign coal business.”

“I know you won’t believe me,” said Twilight, “but Equestria isn’t here for money.”

“Uh-huh, sure. And how do you explain the pony running around, gathering all the information she can about Zebrabwe?”

“Her interests are strictly academic, an-”

“Hardly. She’s traveled too far for that,” Mtendaji responded. “She’s more than just a professor.” She sighed and slumped in her seat. “You know, what’re the odds? I make a few faked laws to close off the ports, and not only does she decide to stay in the most isolated one out there, but it’s the same one you landed in.”

Which confirmed another one of Twilight’s theories, but that was pretty minor by now. “And the kashata? Was that poisoned?”

“Will you believe me if I say no?”

“No.”

“Then why bother asking?” snapped Mtendaji. “Yes, I poisoned it. Uvivi came back one night, blabbing about this diplomat she had to help with, so, well, I had some poisoned food made to smuggle in with magic and give to you. A little magic kept it from affecting me, too.”

Figuring she might as well cover all her bases, Twilight asked, “What about the theater?”

“I figured if I mentioned it, you’d think about going there. Set up a zebra there ahead of time, just in case.” Mtendaji grinned crookedly. “Almost worked, too. You getting separated from your assistant was just a bonus; thought he’d go with you.”

Applejack squirmed her way to the front of Mtendaji’s desk. “And what about me?” she asked. “What’s goin’ on with y’all tryin’ to kill me? I ain’t even done anythin’ yet.”

“Last-ditch attempt to bring Twilight down,” mumbled Mtendaji. “After the theater, there was no way I’d get to her again, not directly. But if you died, she’d be depressed, and she’d probably screw up something during the talk with Inkosi. Not much, but all I had to go on.”

“Thank you for being so helpful,” said Mlinzi.

Mtendaji shrugged. “You already knew it was me, so why bother trying to hide it? It’d come out eventually. And you wouldn’t believe me if I lied. Heck, you wouldn’t believe me if I told the truth and you didn’t like it. Why bother trying to lie?”

“Regardless. Now, if you’ll come with me-”

But Mtendaji was smirking. “Nope. You can’t do that.”

It was like Twilight’s brain shattered. There… there was no way that was possible, right? Mtendaji had tried to kill an ambassador, she’d flat-out admitted to doing it, so why did she look so confident about wiggling out of it?

“This is a consulate,” said Mtendaji. “That means it’s technically Wilayabadn territory.”

Oh, no. No. Not that. That meant-

“That means you cannot remove me from here,” crowed Mtendaji. “You can’t cross borders and drag people back over to Zebrabwe, because you’d be violating Wilayabada’s sovereignty. That includes me. You really think I’d just tell you everything if you could force me out?”

“Ah,” said Mlinzi, who looked a lot less perturbed than he should have. “So that’s how it is, then.”

“Oh, come on!” yelled Applejack. “That’s a big steaming load of night fertilizer!”

Mtendaji shrugged in faux resignation and smirked. “That’s the way it is, sorry. I am going to stay right here on my little bit of Wilayabada, until someone from Wilayabada comes and gets me out, and there’s nothing you can do to drag me out of it.” Her smirk grew wider.

Mlinzi coughed and adjusted his armor. “Very well. In that case, as it is actively protecting an enemy of the state of Zebrabwe, you may henceforth consider this little bit of Wilayabada under siege.”

Mtendaji froze, her smirk suddenly turning brittle.

“We will shut off the power within the hour,” continued Mlinzi. “Goods will not be allowed in. This includes food. Additional people will not be allowed in. The exit will be kept under watch at all times by a minimum of five guards. Anyone who leaves will be food, board, and shelter, but closely watched to be sure they do not return. All of these measures will be lifted should you turn yourself over to the Zebrabwean Royal Guard.”

The smirk slowly started sliding off Mtendaji’s face.

“Fortunately,” Mlinzi went on (Twilight could hear a bit of smugness creeping into her voice), “once you do turn yourself over, your trial will be quite swift, considering you just confessed to the Captain of the Zebrabwean Royal Guard, one of the Princesses of Equestria, and numerous other witnesses.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “Thank you for not thinking this through in the slightest and have a nice day.” He turned around, flicked his tail, and walked out of the office with his head held high, leaving Mtendaji inside in a state of shock.

Twilight took a few steps back, looking between Mtendaji and the door out, her mind racing. With a whisper, Applejack quickly voiced what Twilight was thinking: “That… that ain’t it, is it?”

“I… I don’t know,” muttered Twilight. “I… guess.” She started flipping through the bits of diplomatic knowledge she had that were relevant to this situation. The problem was that, because she didn’t have the slightest interest in flaunting Zebrabwe’s laws, there wasn’t much of it. She barely knew anything about how consulates or embassies interacted with the outside world, or whether they even worked the same way Equestria treated them, or- She cut herself off. “Let’s just get going.” She left the room; Applejack and Stormwalker followed a moment later.

Abadas and zebras alike were poking their heads out of rooms to look up and down the hall. Some of them were muttering: had that really just happened? Was their CEO really a would-be murderer? A few of them were staring at the ponies. Some in shock, some in accusation, but none of them made any move to stop the trio. Twilight wasn’t exactly sure what she’d do if she were in their situation; what could she have done?

Outside the consulate, there were six zebras still there: four of them, who were lounging about with spears, another one, who was overseeing the first four, and Mlinzi, who was screaming through clenched teeth and smashing his (helmeted) head against the wall. He paused once Twilight and Applejack were out. “Hello, Princess. Hello, um… other ambassador.”

“Applejack,” Applejack prompted.

“Right. Sorry. Hello, Ambassador Applejack,” Mlinzi said. “Hello, bodyguard.” And then he went right back to screaming and smashing his head. Twilight and Applejack exchanged Looks, and even Stormwalker looked a bit weirded out.

Eventually, Mlinzi stopped his stress-relieving exercise. “Sorry,” he muttered, “but… gah!” Wham. “Of all the… stupid… little…”

“There’s really nothin’ more y’all can do?” Applejack asked. “I mean, she’s right there.” She pointed back at the consulate.

“Politics,” spat Mlinzi. “It’s… it’s complicated. Long story short, no, there isn’t.”

“We could drag her out.”

“That’d qualify as an illegal kidnapping,” mumbled Mlinzi. “Look, short of her coming out of her own free will, there’s no way we’re getting her out and still getting her in jail.” He turned to the small group of zebras still in front of the door. “Remember your orders. Don’t let anyone in. Arrest anyone who comes out.” They saluted, and Mlinzi set off down the hallway, hanging his head.

Twilight trotted up to Mlinzi’s side. “I know that you need to think of that as Wilayabadan land,” she said, “but… but it can’t extend to protecting a would-be murderer, can it?”

“It can, and it does,” muttered Mlinzi. He sighed. “It’s complicated. If we say we can violate Wilayabada’s sovereignty for this good reason, then what other good reasons can we say we can violate it for? It’s a slippery slope. Or at least, that’s what the politicians will say.” He groaned again. “Believe me, I wanted to drag that scumbag out in a headlock, but Inkosi specifically — personally — ordered me to not use force once we entered the consulate. It’d avoid any ‘international shenanigans’. And, honestly, we were pushing our luck as it is, entering the consulate without permission.”

“Oh. Great.” Twilight hated politics. Hated hated hated hated hated politics.

She was pulled out of her funk by someone yelling from down the hall. “I’m telling you, I’m not with her! I had no idea what she was doing!” Twilight recognized that voice and bolted down the hall, Stormwalker on her heels.

Uvivi was being escorted away by two zebras. They weren’t restraining her and she was making no move to run, but they weren’t listening to her protests, either. “Look, go ask Princess Twilight, I’m-”

Twilight cleared her throat. “You can let her go,” she said loudly. “She’s good. She wasn’t involved at all.”

The trio turned around as one. Uvivi started grinning, but the guards looked skeptical. Mlinzi trotted up after Twilight. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

“This one exited the consulate shortly after we arrived,” said one of the guards, pointing to Uvivi, “but Princess Twilight says we should let her go.”

Mlinzi cocked her head at Twilight, who said, “There’s nothing wrong with her. I know for a fact that we can trust her.”

“Your Highness,” Mlinzi said slowly, “she might be working for Mtendaji. Would you bet your life on her not being involved?”

“She saved my life before I made that bet. Remember, she’s the one who ground up her horn for an antidote.”

“She actually did,” Stormwalker interjected. “There’s no way she’s a danger.”

Mlinzi blinked. “She… she ground up her horn?” He coughed and shuddered. “Well, um… release her, then.” He rubbed his nose and shuddered again.

The guards looked at each other. One of them shrugged, and lightly nudged Uvivi away. She half-toppled out from between them and to Twilight’s side. Uvivi shook herself off (not that she was dirty) and said, “Thanks.”

“I have to report on this,” said Mlinzi. “Well, not this-” He pointed at Uvivi. “-but that.” He jerked his head back towards the consulate. “If you need me, your guards know where to find me.” He and the two other guards left, leaving Twilight, Uvivi, and Stormwalker alone in the hall.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Twilight said to Uvivi. “Learning your boss tried to kill me can’t feel good. Are you feeling okay?”

“Nope. Totally screwed,” muttered Uvivi. “I’ve got no job, no place to sleep, maybe no money available…” She rubbed her face. “That was most definitely the stupidest decision I’ve made in my entire life.”

“Don’t worry,” said Twilight. “You’ll get through this.”

“I know, but until I get back to Wilayabada, I… I have no idea what I’ll do.”

“Maybe you can stay with us for a while,” Twilight suggested. “We’ve got room, I’m sure the others won’t mind-”

“I won’t,” Stormwalker said quickly.

“-and it’s the least I can do,” finished Twilight. She looked over her shoulder. “What do you think, Applej-”

The hall was empty. Applejack wasn’t there.

27 - You've Got Another Thing Comin'

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Applejack was more than a little dumbstruck as she left the consulate. The murderer had admitted to it all, and thanks to… thanks to some… some stupid bit of international law, they couldn’t do anything about it yet. It was draining. Applejack didn’t feel tired, but she felt… burnt out. Like she couldn’t care about anything. When Twilight bolted down the hall after some voice, Applejack couldn’t be bothered to run after her. Instead, she went with a slow walk.

It wasn’t like it mattered, in the long run. It was only a matter of time before Mtenwhateverhernamewas caved and came out. Less than a week, for sure. Right? Heck, maybe some of her employees would try to bully her out. They were getting punished, too, and they hadn’t done anything. They’d hate her, definitely, and do anything to get her out so they could get their freedom back. Right? Right.

But, until then, Mtenwhatever was still sitting there in her gilded cage. The consulate wasn’t exactly a prison cell.

Applejack stopped walking and slowly put her hoof down.

No.

This was not okay. This was not okay. She had not come all this way across Zebrabwe to see someone who’d tried to kill Twilight, someone who’d tried to kill her, lounge about scot-free. Why should Mtendaji be able to sit in the consulate and wait for a few more days? She needed to be in jail now. Maybe they couldn’t just drag her out. But there had to be something, right? Something to convince her to leave. But what?

…She’d seen Twilight move the sun, right?

It was like a candle had ignited over Applejack’s head. She spun and walked back to the consulate.

There were five guards outside the consulate, four of them with spears and one that looked like she was just coordinating the four and warning others away. The spearzebras were talking. “…three days, max,” one said. “Most of it’s inside the walls, so there’s barely any windows, an-”

Seeing Applejack coming right for the door, the coordinator cleared her throat. “Ma’am, traffic into these rooms is forbidden. Move along.”

“I’m goin’ in there,” Applejack said solidly. “I’m an ambassador of Equestria, there’s an Equestrian matter in there, and you can’t stop me.”

“Technically,” said the coordinator, “diplomatic immunity simply means we can’t prosecute you. We can stop you all we like.” She placed a hoof on Applejack’s chest, strong enough to stop her from walking. And if Applejack had been a zebra, it probably would’ve ended there.

“That ain’t what I said,” Applejack replied. “I’m goin’ in there.” She dug her hooves in and pushed as only earth ponies could; she started moving forward and the coordinator started sliding backward. The coordinator blinked, tried to get a firmer grip, and pushed with both front hooves on Applejack’s chest. No effect.

When they passed into their line of sight, the spearzebras stared, then one of them started snickering. “Guess you can’t stop her, Ushupavu,” he said. “That’s a new one. And such a small one, too.”

“She’s- stronger- than- she- looks,” grunted Ushupavu. She started trying to walk, to get a grip and push Applejack back, to the same effect as before; i.e., none.

“Obviously,” said the spearzebra. “Just let her in and let whoever or whatever she believes in sort her out. It’s not our fault if she goes in and tries to drag that exec o-”

“I ain’t gonna drag her out!” said Applejack, halting her forward march. (Ushupavu started staring between one of her front hooves and Applejack.) “I’m just gonna give her some advice.”

“In the form of a hoof to the face?”

Which was very appealing, but not what Applejack was going for. “No. Advice advice.”

“Aw.”

Applejack rolled her eyes and opened the door. The lobby of the consulate was filled with abadas and a few zebras, all of them nervous and all of them talking about Mtendaji. Applejack ignored them all as she kept walking. No one reacted to her, even as she picked her way through the crowd towards the relevant door. She remembered the way to Mtendaji’s office.

What she didn’t remember was the two abadas standing in front of the office, muttering to each other and propping up spears. They both snapped to look at her the moment they heard her hoofsteps, and with a shimmer of magic, the spears were pointing at Applejack. “Ma’am,” one of the guards said, “no one sees Mtendaji.” His voice was wavering, unsteady, like he didn’t really want to be guarding this particular door.

Applejack looked down one of the spear shafts and swallowed. Not the best position for this. “I want to talk to Mendaji. Mtendaji.” Great. What a way to start, not even pronouncing her target’s name right.

The guards looked at each other. Clearing his throat, the first one said, “No one sees Mtendaji right now.”

“I’ve got somethin’ she needs to hear,” said Applejack. “I promise I just want to talk to her.” She drew an X across her heart. (Would they know what that meant? Hopefully.)

The guard grimaced. “I’m so-”

Okubi stuck her head out of her office right next door. “The two of you will stand down or you’re both fired.” Her voice was utterly uninflected, completely flat and level.

The guards twitched and went through a few motions of not knowing whether or not to lower their spears. Their gazes flicked between Okubi and Mtendaji’s door. “But…” one of them said. “But, ma’am, Mtend-”

“I heard. The two of you will stand down or you’re both fired.”

The guard swallowed. “Ma’am, she… she said she’d fire us if we let anyone by.” He looked nervously up at Applejack.

“If she is able to fire you for this,” Okubi said, “I will personally argue for your reemployment. Same position. Slight pay increase, since you did the right thing rather than merely blindly following orders.”

That was enough for that particular guard. He dropped his spear, took off his helmet and dropped that, and stalked past Applejack, muttering, “Screw this. I need some coffee.”

The other guard was still looking nervously at Mtendaji’s door. “Ma’am, she’s, she’s still my boss, an-”

“So am I,” said Okubi. “And who do you think is going to come out on top?”

The guard blinked, sighed, and walked off, her spear over her back.

Applejack stared at the spear lying on the ground and at the unguarded door. That was easy. “Uh… thanks, I guess,” she said to Okubi. She wasn’t sure what else to say. What was Okubi thinking? Applejack had seen the way she’d treated Mtendaji before, but this was something else entirely.

“You’re welcome,” said Okubi, and vanished back inside her office.

Applejack took a step towards Mtendaji’s office, then bolted for Okubi’s instead. Banging on the door, she hollered, “Hey! Why’re y’all helpin’ me like that?”

Okubi opened the door. “I want her out of my mane as soon as possible,” she said. “Presumably, you are either going to find a way to extradite her or impress upon her to leave. Your goals and mine coincide. Ergo, I should help you.” She closed the door in Applejack’s face. But at least she’d gotten an answer.

Applejack looked at Mtendaji’s door one last time (Why am I doin’ this? This is plain crazy.), sighed, and pushed it open.

Inside, Mtendaji was pacing back and forth, nervously muttering to herself. When she heard the door open, she glowered up at Applejack. “What do you want? You can’t drag me out, you know.”

“I wasn’t goin’ to,” said Applejack. “I just wanna give y’all some advice.”

“Pfft. Sure. That advice wouldn’t happen to be ‘march right out and present yourself to the Zebrabwean Guard gift-wrapped’, would it?”

“No. It ain’t.” Applejack stepped just outside the boundary of Mtendaji’s comfort zone. “I want y’all to think about what Twilight can do. Movin’ the sun and all.”

“Like I could forget it.” Mtendaji shivered. “People should not be able to do that,” she muttered, “it’s-”

“And she can get around your defense against magic like it’s nothin’.”

“Which should be impossible, there’s no way she can-”

“And she’s got diplomatic immunity.”

Mtendaji froze. Applejack could already see her mind racing. Good. Good.

“Y’all tried to kill her,” Applejack said flatly. “And if she decides she wants to return the favor, there ain’t nothin’ y’all can do to stop her. Y’can’t use the law against her, and y’can’t use magic against her. You really think she’ll just sit by and let the zebras handle it?” She very conveniently left out that, yes, Twilight would sit by and let the zebras handle it. Twilight wasn’t a very smitey pony. As far as the Elements of Harmony went, honesty was a very restrictive one, but Applejack had learned to work around it.

Mtendaji started chewing her lip, her eyes flitting around the room at nothing in particular. Her breathing grew louder and sped up. She started pacing, flicking her wiry tail.

“And as long as you’re here,” Applejack said, “she’ll know right where you are. Is stayin’ put really the best option?”

“If… If left…” whispered Mtendaji, “would-” She swallowed. “Would she, you know-”

“She’s here for the zebras. She ain’t gonna piss off the zebras.”

Mtendaji chewed the inside of her cheek for another second, then sighed. “Fine. Just… just as long as Twilight doesn’t do anything.” She shivered.

Well, that was easy. Applejack wanted to cheer, to yell in glee, but there’d be time for that later. Right now, she just had to get Mtendaji out. “C’mon, then. Let’s get y’all to the guards.” Without waiting for a response, she left the office. Mtendaji followed a moment later, audibly dragging her hooves.

Just as they passed Okubi’s office, Okubi herself opened the door. “Beg pardon, ma’am. If you don’t mind, I would like to speak with Mtendaji for a moment.”

Applejack knew she should just get Mtendaji to the zebras as fast as possible, but Okubi had smashed Mtendaji’s face into her own desk, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to see more of that, even if it was only verbal. Oh, why not? “Aight.” She took a step back.

“Thank you.” Okubi looked down at Mtendaji and asked, “Why?”

“You heard why,” snapped Mtendaji. “We’re dangerously close to going bankrupt, an-”

“Why murder?”

“It- It’d keep Equestria out of Zebrabwe for years,” Mtendaji said. “Keep trade down. It’d be good for other Wilayabadan companies, even.” Mtendaji did her best to glare at Okubi, but it wasn’t all that intimidating. “Can you think of a better plan?”

“Several, as a matter of fact. First, try to sell coal to Equestria in addition to Zebrabwe. They might have need of it.”

“But we don’t know that,” said Mtendaji, “and i-”

“Second, realize that the Equestrians have minimal data on goods exchange between our two nations, and so any attempt on their part to force themselves into the market would take months at best, buying us precious time to chart a more effective course of action.”

“I- I-” Mtendaji was struggling to meet Okubi’s eyes, constantly trying to cringe away and then forcing herself to look back. “I thought that was what Livingstone was doing. Gathering data.”

“Her exchange was primarily cultural, not economic. As you would have known if you had actually paid a modicum of attention to her. Third, if they did try to sell coal, convince Inkosi that Equestrian coal would not be worth it. One way or another, five thousand miles is not a thing that can be blithely ignored; transportation will incur costs that will raise the price.” (Applejack was really creeped out at how little Okubi moved.)

Mtendaji didn’t even say anything, instead breathing loudly and irregularly.

“Fourth, talk to me, as I have more than twice the years’ experience you have in this and am, nigh objectively, more competent than you. Or did you imagine I acquired my position as co-head of this company thanks to my stunning looks and my winning personality?” Okubi pulled her thin lips back in such a manner that exposed her teeth while the corners of her mouth curled upwards. It was probably supposed to be a smile.

Mtendaji closed her mouth and started glaring angrily at a certain tile in the floor.

“Fifth, remember that coal is a very small part of Zebrabwe’s very large economy. A lucrative one, but a small one nonetheless. The odds of the Equestrians being specifically focused on coal were miniscule, and they were unlikely to be of any danger to us.”

“I get it,” Mtendaji mumbled, almost too quietly to hear. She was still glaring at the floor.

“In short,” said Okubi, “literally anything besides murder, you idiotic buffoon. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to shore up what I am able to of my company before we encounter the devastation caused by the wake of your colossal fuckup.” Okubi slightly inclined her head to Applejack. “Good day, ma’am, and if you find Uvivi, please inform her that she is welcome back at any time.” She closed the door to her office.

When Applejack led Mtendaji through the lobby, absolute silence fell. The crowd parted to let them through, everyone staring at the two of them. Mostly at Mtendaji. She grimaced and tried to hide her face, but that just made her all the more conspicuous. Applejack just kept walking as if it didn’t bother her. It was a bit odd to find that it genuinely didn’t. She was well past caring about much of anything besides Mtendaji.

The spearzebras were still outside. The moment Applejack stepped out, she and Mtendaji had several spearpoints only a few inches from their noses. One of them who was aiming his spear at Applejack blinked. “Oh. It’s you.” He (and the others) promptly shifted their spears to Mtendaji, who quailed back a few feet.

“Hang on…” said Ushupavu. “Isn’t that the perp?”

“I don’t know,” said a zebra, “I can’t tell abadas apart.”

“Pretty sure it is,” said another. “Her coat’s the right shade of brown.”

“Aren’t all their coats that shade of brown?”

“No, hers is a bit lighter th-”

“Yes, I’m the perp,” Mtendaji grumbled loudly. “I’m, I’m turning myself in.”

All the zebras fell silent. Someone coughed. “W-well, um,” said Ushupavu, “that’s convenient.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Mtendaji. She started glaring at a wall.

Another moment of silence before another zebra spoke up. “So what do we now? Do we-”

“We have our orders until something changes,” said Ushupavu, “which’ll probably be soon, but… You and you, take, um, take Applejack and Mtendaji to the barracks. Everyone else, we’re staying here.”

And so in a few moments, Applejack found herself escorting a criminal through a palace in a foreign land while being escorted by two zebra guards. If anypony had said she’d be doing this while on her diplomatic mission, she’d’ve laughed them off. Even in Equestria, this sort of thing would be pushing it, Element of Harmony or not. But it felt right, somehow; like, yeah, this was something she was supposed to be doing and there was no reason to not do it. It did, however, feel kind of strange doing something this big without Twilight; Applejack wondered where she had gotte-

“Applejack!”

Twilight came running down the hall, closely followed by Stormwalker and… what was her name? Uvivi? Twilight flared her wings to come to a quick stop. “Where were you? You just vanished and- What’s Mtendaji doing out?”

Mtendaji kept pointedly examining the tiles of the floor. “I talked her into comin’ out,” said Applejack. “She’s turnin’ herself in. And your name’s Uvivi, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“The, uh, the zebra boss, I didn’t catch her name, she said you’re welcome back whenever.”

After a second’s thought, Uvivi nearly wilted. “Oh thank the stars,” she breathed, rustling her mane. “That’s…” She coughed. “I’m just gonna hang out in front of the consulate until the guards pull away. Get back in ASAP. But thanks for the offer, Twilight. Be seeing you.” She trotted off down the hall.

Twilight waved after Uvivi, then turned to Applejack. “You can tell me about this later. For now, let’s get Mtendaji to wherever. I think Mlinzi’s going to be very happy with you.”

At the barracks, Mlinzi stared at Mtendaji for a few seconds to confirm he was actually seeing the truth. Then he looked Applejack in the eyes and said, “I love you forever.” Then he hugged her.

It was a good five seconds before Applejack decided to say, “Um… Get off me.” It was another five seconds before he did.

“So?” Spike asked when they got back. “How’d it go?”

“Applejack captured a criminal!” said Twilight brightly.

“I didn’t catch her,” Applejack protested, “I just-”

Spike gasped. “Really? You caught the assassin? You caught the assassin?”

Twilight nodded. “She was hiding out in the consulate and we couldn’t get to her thanks to some political crap, then Applejack went back in and came out with Mtendaji in tow. So, yes, my theory was correct. How’d you do it, anyway, Applejack?”

“W-well, uh…” Applejack looked away and rubbed one leg against another. “I… kinda made it sound like you were gonna come after her. And, well, you can move the sun, so…”

“Huh. That’s one way to do it, I guess. You… didn’t actually say I would, did you?”

“No!” yelled Applejack. “It’s… I couldn’t do that! If I just went and said that, I- I’d feel like- I don’t know. But that ain’t right. I just sorta… y’know, kinda sorta hinted at it.” She half-grinned and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Well, if it works, it works,” said Twilight. “I’m not complaining.”

“So that’s it?” Spike asked. “We’re all safe now? If it was Mtendaji, and she’s in jail-”

“Pretty sure,” said Twilight. “Unless there’s another person who wants to kill me running around out there.”

“…That’s anticlimactic.”

“You’re telling me.” Twilight flopped down onto a couch and stared up at the ceiling. “It’s… I don’t know, it’s weird, having this problem suddenly hanging over me for two days and then just as suddenly not hanging over me.”

“You feel better about it all, though, right?” asked Applejack.

Twilight nodded. “Yeah. A lot better.” She paused. “But I’m also starving. I don’t think I’ve eaten since breakfast.”

Livingstone called out from a few rooms over. “That’s what you get for studying grounding all day, yes! You brought that on yourself!”

“I know!” Twilight yelled back. She flexed her legs one by one and rolled off the couch. “But my brain says it’s time to raid the fridge. Let’s raid the fridge.” She trotted off.

Applejack was about to follow when someone knocked on the door to the embassy. She almost ignored it when she remembered Idube and Bhiza and the others. Someone might’ve stopped by to say, “Hey, we got your stuff here.” Maybe even Bhiza.

Sure enough, Bhiza was right outside the door. “Hey!” she said brightly. “How come you haven’t caught whoever tried to kill us yet?” She started laughing.

“We did.”

Bhiza’s laugh stopped so suddenly, it was like someone had turned off the sound. She blinked once. Twice. “…Really?”

“Sure. Twilight used that ball — we were right, it did track magic — and that earrin’ thing, which was some kinda communication thing, and we found who’d sent that bandit out. They’re in jail now. Or at least goin’ there soon.”

Bhiza blinked again, then started laughing harder. “Ha! Ponies do not do things by halves!”

Applejack grinned. “Guess not.”

“Anyway, we finally managed to get the carts over, and the goods’ll be brought here — I mean, here here, not just the palace — servants’ll bring them here tomorrow. And…” Bhiza fished a scrap of paper out of her saddlebag and shoved it over to Applejack. “Here’s the address and name of our hotel, if you get the time to stop by. I get it if you don’t, though.”

“Nah, I’m sure I’ll find the time,” said Applejack. “Maybe not for a few days, but I’ll do my best.”

“Cool. Anyway, nice seeing you, but I gotta get going,” said Bhiza, “since those jerks at the bar meant we couldn’t get any dinner, and we’re all hungry.” She turned to leave.

“Actually… hang on a sec.” Applejack shouted over her shoulder. “Hey! Twi! You wanna go out to eat with some zebras?”

“Being a subset of weather magic,” Twilight said to Bhiza, “pegasus magic reacts particularly well with air and small particles. In the case of clouds, even the small amount of passive magic that lets a pegasus fly causes the water droplets near them to form incredibly strong connections to each other, to the point that the natural polarity of water doesn’t connect with other molecules, while keeping them light enough to still float and stay more-or-less in place. As a result, to a pegasus, clouds are effectively floating bits of dry water with an extreme amount of surface tension, allowing them to stand on them.”

“Uh-huh. Cool,” Bhiza said with a nod. “So, how do you stand on clouds?”

Twilight sighed. “Thanks to magic, clouds are naturally more solid to pegasi.”

Bhiza glanced at Applejack and snorted. “Why’s it always magic?” she muttered.

“‘Cause.” Applejack shrugged.

Bhiza flicked an ear. “Weak.” She buried her muzzle in her soup bowl.

They were at a downscale restaurant in the Old Quarter, not too far from the palace. It wasn’t a swanky, high-class place, but it wasn’t a cheap fast food joint, either. (Applejack was a bit surprised to find that, yes, fast food joints existed even in Zebrabwe.) The food wasn’t spectacular, but it was more than good enough. According to Twilight, Inkosi was paying for it. Which was good, because the people who’d already been in the embassy and Idube’s caravan, there were almost twenty people of varying species there; Applejack could only imagine what the end bill was going to be like. The waiters, at least, looked polite, given the large crowd. Maybe it was the presence of the ambassadors and winged guards.

Taking a sip of her own soup, Applejack noticed Twilight looking out over the zebras, apparently lost in thought. “Somethin’ wrong, sugarcube?”

“No,” Twilight said, shaking her head, “just… this is the first time I’ve met with regular zebras, not nobles or bosses or anything like that, and they’re a lot like ponies.”

“Yeah,” Applejack said. “Some of ‘em can be a bit strange-”

Bhiza pulled her muzzle from her soup. “I resent that.” Back into the soup.

Applejack rolled her eyes and continued. “-but that ain’t different from how ponies can be strange, is it?”

“Of course not,” said Twilight. “But at the same time, they’re so different. So much we take for granted, they have to work around. Pegasi control Equestria’s weather, but zebras have to catch, train, and harness iimpundulu to do that. And did you know that the zebras’ recorded history is, as best I can tell, a thousand years shorter than ponies’ recorded history?”

“Huh. Really?”

Twilight nodded. “Since all zebras are more-or-less the same, as opposed the differences in the pony tribes, there was less of a divide between them, so there was less need for like individuals to band together and coalesce into distinct nations; they stayed tribal, with a rich oral tradition as opposed to writing, for longer. And yet, in spite of that shorter history, they’re about as technologically advanced as us. Probably even more.” She sighed happily. “There’s just so much out there to learn. I can see why Livingstone stayed here. Everything’s new.”

“So y’all wanna just get out and learn everythin’ y’can, right?”

“Sometime soon, yeah. But not right now. I’ve been looking over my shoulder for the past few days, and even though that’s gone, I’ve still got to meet with a king, and it’s all…” Twilight waved a hoof around in a circle. “It’s all a bit much, you know? For now, I’m ready to just relax until tomorrow.” Twilight held up her mug in a toast.

Applejack nodded. “Until tomorrow.”

Clink.

28 - The Times They Are A-Changin'

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The next day passed much too quickly. With the meeting with Inkosi scheduled for that evening, Twilight panicked a bit. Applejack and Zecora were given a crash course in protocol nearly identical to Twilight’s. Rumors were passed around the palace about Mtendaji. Twilight panicked a bit. Askari and Mtetezi were pulled off of their protecting-Twilight duties. Assassins did not show up. Twilight panicked a bit.

And suddenly it was evening and time for the meeting with Inkosi. Twilight, Applejack, Spike, Zecora, Livingstone, Stormwalker, and Cumulus were all in a small waiting room room just outside the throne room, waiting for Inkosi to show. The last few minutes of the court were wrapping up, and Twilight kept right on pacing.

“You’ll wear a hole straight through the floor if you keep walking for much more,” observed Zecora.

“I know I know I know,” muttered Twilight. She’d known that for quite some time. “But I can’t help it. There’s so many things that can go wrong, and plenty of things I don’t know about, so I can’t even make a proper list to remember the things that can go wrong! And this is the sort of thing a list is perfect for, beca-”

“Calm down, sugarcube,” said Applejack. “It ain’t that bad.”

“I know, b-”

“Just, I don’t know… Just think of it as a test, alright? Like Celestia’d give you.”

“You’re right,” Twilight said. “I’m good at tests. I studied as best I could. I can do this.” She took a few deep breaths until the metaphor got the better of her. “But… I don’t have quill or paper. This is an oral exam. I’m not that good at oral exams! Sometimes I only got a B+ on them!” She squeaked and dropped to the floor, covering her eyes. “A B+ isn’t good enough for this!”

Applejack and Spike exchanged glances. Spike cleared his throat. “Technically, a D- is good enough,” said Spike. “It’s a passing grade, isn’t it?”

“Experience has taught me to ignore sentences that begin with ‘technically’,” Twilight said as she stood up. “But I see your point. It’s just, this is more than a test.” She started pacing. “If I do badly, then Equestria has bad relations with Zebrabwe, and we’ll have to work really hard to get over them, whereas if I do badly on a test, I can get over it by doing well on the homework, s-” She stopped pacing and cocked her head at nothing in particular. “Which… I guess doesn’t make this any different from the first test of the semester.”

“Please don’t strain the metaphor,” said Zecora dryly. “I doubt that it can take much more.”

“But the sign of a good metaphor is that it can take a lot!” said Twilight. “It’s like a model: it represents the important bits and you can get an idea of what’s happening without risking the actual important bits by working with the model’s important bits. It’s like that.” Zecora didn’t add anything, so Twilight paced for another few moments, then said to Livingstone, “You’re being awfully quiet.”

“Well, I, I don’t have much to add, no,” said Livingstone, twirling a lock of her mane around a hoof. “I’ve… more or less done my job in getting you to Kulikulu, and I was never much of a diplomat to begin with. I was never somepony of any actual importance, just a curiosity who was, herself, very curious. I doubt that I’ll say much in the actual meeting, so don’t worry if it seems like I don’t have much to say. Chances are it’s already been said, yes.”

“Alright,” said Twilight. Something she’d known and assumed, but it was always a good idea to be sure, just in case. “And while we’re on the subject, the rest of you, remember: I’m the ambassador, so don’t take it personally if Inkosi focuses all of her attention on me.”

“I know,” said Applejack. “And, to be honest, I don’t think I want her examinin’ me. I’m just an aide. I don’t know anythin’ about diplomacy.”

“Good,” Twilight said. “I mean, I know we went over it before, but I wanted to mention it again, just in case, because i-”

“We know, Twi,” Applejack said, planting a hoof in Twilight’s mouth. “Calm down.”

“Sorry,” Twilight mumbled as she pulled Applejack’s hoof out, “but I’m really nervous, and I want to be sure, and wow I’m already repeating myself.” She facehoofed. “I’m probably going to explode if we have to wait for much longer.”

And like a sign from the heavens, a zebra opened the door to the throne room and bowed. “The king will see you now.”

Everyone looked at each other for a few moments. Twilight took a deep breath, flapped her wings once, and stepped into the throne room.

The throne room was massive, larger even than Canterlot’s. Every hard surface was made of marble, which would normally make it very, very white, but not during the evening. Behind the throne was a colossal picture window, several ponies high and numerous across, looking west over Kulikulu. Through this window shafted the rays of the setting sun, throwing an orange cast over everything. On the sides were raised rows of benches for the audience in the case of public ceremonies. The actual throne was smaller and simpler than Twilight had been expecting, not much more than a slightly oversized chair made of marble.

Inkosi herself was pacing back and forth before the throne, looking surprisingly downbeat. She’d seemed so… eager during the dinner. Twilight wondered if something had happened to her. She hadn’t heard anything, but that didn’t mean much. Flanking her route were two guards and two additional zebras that Twilight suspected were advisors of some kind.

Inkosi looked up when Twilight and company. Twilight noticed a smile tug briefly at the corners of her mouth for a moment. But only for a moment. Did that mean something? Maybe Inkosi was still apprehensive about Mtendaji’s actions, nothing to do with Twilight herself. Hopefully, yeah. Twilight bowed slightly. “Your Highness.”

Inkosi inclined her head. “Princess.” Before Twilight could say anything, Inkosi gestured towards a door behind the throne. “Come. Let’s go outside.”

A short staircase took them to a balcony outside, out of sight of the picture window. The balcony was small, probably meant for private audiences like this, weather permitting. It was, however, large enough for the whole group to fit on comfortably (although Inkosi’s advisors were standing off to the side; they were probably there more “just in case” than because Inkosi knew she’d need them). In a contrast to the throne room, it was plain, almost completely devoid of decoration. Leaning on the railing, Inkosi took her crown off and began idly twirling it around a hoof. After a moment, she said, “You have no idea how much I want to apologize for these past few days.”

“It’s fine,” said Twilight, waving her hoof. “Everyone’s okay, and all’s well that ends well, right?”

“Nevertheless, it happened in my country.” Inkosi scanned the skyline. “I’m the one that allowed a would-be killer to do business here, I’m the one that didn’t find her immediately, I’m the one that nearly let her get away. Whether or not it ends well for you, it certainly won’t end the greatest for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Twilight said quickly, already wishing she could take back her words. Of course it wouldn’t look good on Inkosi. Why hadn’t she remembered to look at things from someone else’s perspective? Stupid. “I just meant-”

Inkosi waved her away. “It’s not that bad. It might not end the greatest, but it’s closer to the greatest than the worst. The things hurt most are my pride and my reputation.” Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Which can be important in international relations, but they’re not the most important things.”

“So, um, Your Highness,” said Spike, “what’re you gonna do now? I mean, if Imayini tried to kill an ambassador, then…” Twilight’s skin crawled with apprehension (that was a bit of a personal question, given the situation) and envy (she’d really wanted to ask that question herself, and only protocol had held her back).

Inkosi sighed. “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “It’ll take years for the dust to settle, assuming it ever does. Furthermore, low funds aside, Imayini does provide us with a not-insignificant amount of coal at a relatively low cost. I can’t simply throw them out, but neither can I freely forgive them with no strings attached.” She sighed again. “And we still have to see the reaction from Wilaya, which may not arrive until you are gone. I might not have much of a choice in the matter, one way or another. But…”

She pushed away from the railing and put her crown back on her head. “You needn’t concern yourself with that. That is not what you are here for.” Already, her voice sounded fuller, more confident, more energetic, less depressed, and she even stood a bit taller.

“Right,” said Twilight. She twitched all over and drew herself up another few inches. “On behalf of Equestria, I-”

And just like that, she froze. She had no idea of what to say. She’d composed speeches, yes. Eight of them, to be precise, depending on which area she wanted to emphasize. She’d memorized them all. But after much internal debate, she still didn’t know which one would be the best for this. Throughout the whole day, Twilight had picked one to say, and then she’d go, no, this one was obviously better because of these reasons, and she’d decide to say this one, but then, no, that one was obviously better because of those reasons, and she’d go through all of them three or four times before she knew what was happening. She had eight beautifully-composed speeches to work with, but saying this one meant she wasn’t saying that one, and she couldn’t have that.

She didn’t even have any books to draw on. She’d read nothing about Equestria initiating diplomatic relations for the first time. At least, nothing personal. Just vague bits of “and then Equestria started an alliance with Yakyakistan” or something along those lines. This was the first time in centuries Equestria was expanding its borders even slightly. The only ponies alive who knew how to begin going about it were Celestia and Luna. Twilight screamed internally. Why hadn’t she asked either of them for advice? She’d made it over the ocean, to the capital, through several assassination attempts, why did she have to choke right now?

Stupid isolationism. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid.

But she had to say something. Everyone was looking at her and Spike was lightly nudging her in the ribs.

The words came tripping out. “-would- like to- extend to Zebrabwe an offer of- of- peace and- alliance and- and stuff. Yeeeeah.” Twilight managed to smile, but she could hear the quiet, disappointed reactions of the rest of her party. She could even identify which one was doing which. Spike quickly sucked in a breath, Applejack groaned, Zecora huffed, Livingstone clicked her teeth nervously, and Stormwalker and Cumulus had the decency to keep quiet. Jumping off the balcony with her wings clamped firmly at her sides suddenly seemed incredibly appealing.

Inkosi managed to hold it back for a few seconds, but she giggled. “That’s one way to put it.”

Twilight couldn’t help it. She reverted back to “anxious student explaining herself to the teacher” mode. “I’m sorry but I don’t have any experience in this,” she said quickly, “and I don’t know if I mentioned this but Equestria’s been very stable for a very long time and that includes a lack of starting new alliances and s-” And then she cut herself off. Babbling in front of a king. Swell. After that abysmal opening. Super swell. Give me my shovel now, Celestia. I can dig my own grave.

“Don’t worry,” said Inkosi, waving her down. “You need to crawl before you can walk, and besides, content is more important than presentation.”

Twilight slowly let a breath out. Okay. This might not be so bad after all, not if Inkosi was one of those people who could overlook flubs if the actual hay of the matter was good enough. But that didn’t slow down her beating heart at all. Or her deep breathing. Or the way her brain was still screaming. Or a lot of other things.

“In any case,” Inkosi continued, “I’ve been considering this quite a bit ever since the dinner, and I wholeheartedly believe that, in spite of distance involved, an alliance between Zebrabwe and Equestria could only be advantageous for both of us, at least based on what I know now.”

That slowed everything down so hard it went too far and stopped things that shouldn’t’ve stopped. Equestria and Zebrabwe were allies just like that? That was easy. There was no way it was that easy. Right? It would’ve been nice after the past few days, but if something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. Aside from the rare times where it wasn’t. This might just be one of those rare times. Trying to keep up the formality, Twilight said, “That was a quick decision.”

Inkosi shrugged. “I haven’t seen any reason against it. Indeed, your character alone makes an excellent argument. Your friends are among the…” She paused. “Forgive my lack of a better term, the common folk, and yet you treat them like equals. And from what I can see, the feeling is mutual. If nothing else, you have a connection with your citizens that I envy. Citizens are the lifeblood of a nation. I have my hoof on the pulse, but you? You’re in the blood itself. Should something go wrong, you will know exactly what that something is.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal,” Twilight said, waving a hoof. They were her friends. What was so great about being on good terms with her friends? “I jus-”

“But it is! It took me years to find out several of my ports had been tricked into closing, and that was by accident!” Inkosi examined Twilight closely, like there was something etched in her face. Twilight didn’t pull back, but her wings twitched. “You, on the other hoof, might know that within days. Let me explain.”

Inkosi began pacing. “Suppose a zebra in Bandari Mji has a relative in Kulikulu. Maybe a bit coincidental, but hardly unreasonable. Upon the port’s closing, the Bandari Mji zebra might write a letter to the Kulikulu zebra that mentions this. In your case, the second zebra could simply walk up and ask you about it.” She shrugged. “Unlikely, perhaps, but there is no red tape to cut through. In my case, the message would be shuffled through numerous bureaucratic channels, possibly getting lost in transit with no way to find it, possibly deemed not important enough for me.”

She clicked her tongue a few times and went back to scanning the skyline. “I’m not sure your system could work in Zebrabwe, given the nature of zebras. The fact that Equestrians have such an easy flow of information might just be because Celestia has had over a thousand years to perfect the system, but it might also be because Equestria is naturally more peaceable than Zebrabwe, allowing more openness.”

“If the difference is primarily cultural,” Twilight said, “then a cultural exchange might let it leak into Zebrabwe.”

“It might,” said Inkosi. “Then again, it might not. But we won’t know until we try, one way or another.” She grinned. “Personally, though, I’m leaning towards it doing so.”

“Yeah,” said Twilight. “Me, too.”

“And, of course, to try, I’ll need to send a diplomatic envoy over to Equestria,” continued Inkosi. “Perhaps with you on your return journey. Zebrabwe might not have much naval capability, but we have ships capable of making the journey, provided they stick together.”

Twilight waved a hoof nonchalantly. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll make it work. We’ve got enough pegasi to steer the winds and keep the ships close.” And they did. Wind redirection was a basic skill of pegasus sailors, one taught the first week of training. No sense in letting that weather magic go to waste.

“Someone your size controlling the wind and weather?” Inkosi laughed. An amused laugh, not a skeptical one. “I doubt ponies will ever cease to amaze me.”

“I’m a pony and even I’m still amazed from time to time.”

But as Twilight’s mouth was going in one direction, her brain was going another. Yessssss. It was set. Maybe not yet finalized, but it was set. Equestria and Zebrabwe were definitely going to become allies. Twilight liked it, Inkosi liked it, and it’d all been smooth sailing. In the “debate”, at least. Twilight released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. It’d taken weeks of preparation and work, but she’d accomplished everything she’d hoped to accomplish, and she’d done it easily.

And she had no idea where to go from here. What would they talk about? She was starting from scratch. Again. Swell. Again.

Of course, last time’s “swell” had gone just fine… “Sooo…” Twilight batted at the railing. “Now what?”

“Now? Now comes the boring part,” Inkosi said with a chuckle. “We discuss our lands, demographics, that sort of thing. It shall allow us to decide on any trade and cultural exchange more easily. And unless Equestria is vastly different from Zebrabwe, it’ll all boil down to nothing more than numbers.”

What was wrong with numbers? Numbers were fine. Twilight liked numbers. The world ran on numbers, in one way or another. Numbers were simple, but they were beautifully simple. e^πi + 1 = 0? Sublime. But just before she could say that, she was interrupted.

“Equestria’s got four seasons,” Applejack said.

Twilight shot a brief glare at Applejack. That seemed a bit irrelevant, didn’t it? But Inkosi didn’t mind. In fact, she looked downright intrigued. “Four?” she asked. “Isn’t that a bit much?”

Applejack shrugged. “It’s how we do things in Equestria for as long as we can remember, and it’s worked out so far.”

“Huh,” Inkosi said, in the vein of someone who’d just been told the meaning of life and didn’t know how to react.

“And we all grow all our own food, with nothin’ like the nyumbu.”

It took Twilight a second or two to remember what Applejack was talking about: those buffalo things that’d blocked her caravan and grew much of the zebras’ food. It’d struck Twilight as an odd arrangement, but then, if it worked for the zebras, it worked for the zebras. Besides, the zebras would probably see Equestrians growing food on their own as an odd arrangement.

Which might’ve been what Applejack was going for, actually. If Equestria and Zebrabwe were similar, this would be nothing more than an exchange of numbers (which Twilight would’ve wholeheartedly enjoyed, but she could see where others wouldn’t be so excited). But Applejack was already pointing out the differences, turning it from a numbers game to a fascinating cultural exposé on an exotic land. Oh, they’d get to the numbers eventually, but Inkosi would be much more engaged by then.

“Huh,” Inkosi said again, in the exact same tone as before. She paused for a long time. “I think Equestria may indeed be vastly different from Zebrabwe.” She waved a hoof back towards the palace. “Outside is not the best environment for this. I have some much more comfortable quarters inside where we can talk. If we are going to be allies, Equestria and Zebrabwe each have much to learn of the other.”

Okay. Teaching a zebra about Equestria. That was easy. Way easier than trying to figure out how to do negotiations, anyway. She’d done a bit of it at the dinner, but now she could more in-depth. And if you didn’t go in-depth, what was the point? “Since we’re already talking about Equestria, do you have questions on any specific topic? I don’t know absolutely everything about Equestria, but I know something about everything, especially culture and history. I… did lots of research for this.” But not what to actually DO in diplomacy. Why didn’t I do that?

Inkosi clicked her tongue a few times. “Actually, I would like to know more about how Equestria can grow enough food to feed the whole country. That is the primary obstacle in making Zebrabwe truly self-sufficient. I can’t fully blame the nyumbu for keeping their advantage, but it is…” She sucked in a breath through her nostrils. “…quite aggravating.”

“It actually goes back centuries, back before we had Celestia and Luna ruling us, back even before Equestria existed as a single country. The three tribes were functionally separate, but…”

The Other Side of the Horizon

by Rambling Writer

1 - Come Sail Away

2 - Beyond the Sea

3 - Lady of the Harbor

4 - It Wouldn't Hurt to Have Wings

5 - Welcome to the Jungle

6 - City of Blinding Lights

7 - Snakebite

8 - Royals

9 - Elevation

10 - Surprise, Surprise

11 - Bridge Over Troubled Water

12 - Poison in Your Veins

13 - Race You to the Bottom

14 - Rock This Town

15 - Across the Line

16 - Bad Company

17 - Tell Me a Story

18 - Who Are You

19 - Eye in the Sky

20 - Heart of a Miner

21 - Down in the Valley

22 - Out on Patrol

23 - With a Little Help From my Friends

24 - Jealous Gods

25 - Back in the Saddle

26 - You're a Lie

27 - You've Got Another Thing Comin'

28 - The Times They Are A-Changin'