> The Mystery of the Cipactli Glyph
>  by Kwakerjak
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Curiosity let out a sigh as he looked over the crime scene. The forensics team had nearly finished documenting all of the relevant evidence, but there was still a lot of work to be done. On the surface, the burglary of the Vanhoover Historical Society certainly seemed to be a fairly straightforward matter. Somepony had wanted money, they’d learned that an exhibition of several items from the Royal Treasury had been recently installed, and they’d broken in and stolen some of those pieces for the purposes of resale on the black market. Simple enough. And yet...

“Don’t know why they’re wasting time on a bunch of old crap when there’s a real problem that needs to be solved.”

Curiosity sighed as his train of thought was broken by an older stallion who was apparently unaware that he was speaking out loud. The detective did his best to push this out of his mind, but with limited success. Truth be told, the reddish-brown earth pony would very much have preferred to focus his energies on the “problem” that his critic had alluded to. In fact, as a native of Vanhoover, he’d volunteered for this job hoping it would lead to an opportunity to help out, but as an agent of the Royal Investigation Bureau, local crimes were outside of his jurisdiction unless the local police specifically requested RIB assistance. Disturbing as the recent string of disappearances might be, there was still no reason to think that any crimes against the Crown had been committed, as none of the missing ponies were government employees, and none had been near any of Celestia’s property holdings when they were last seen.

On the other hoof, stealing items of jewelry that belonged to Princess Celestia was a royal crime, even if Celestia hadn’t worn them in centuries, which was why he’d been dispatched to the rainiest corner of Equestria. To be fair, he was under orders to divert his attention to the disappearances if the local police asked for help, but it seemed that quite a few officers were wary of his presence. Stupid institutional crap, Curiosity thought to himself as he tried to refocus on his job.

Truth be told, there were some rather odd things about this robbery. For one thing, the most valuable object in the exhibition, an ornate ceremonial peytral that had been studded with rubies and sapphires, had been completely ignored by the culprits despite being displayed quite prominently. Instead, they’d taken several pendants and medallions that had been on display in the corner of the room, all of which were considerably less valuable than the more obvious prize. Then again, Curiosity thought to himself as he stared at the peytral, undisturbed beneath its glass case, it’s possible that they just assumed that there would be tighter security for this piece. One didn’t manage to make thievery a career by taking unnecessary risks, after all. 

No, what made this robbery puzzling was what else the culprits had taken: some sort of stone glyph from the Vanhoover Historical Society’s own collection of pre-Celestian artifacts. Not only would this have been much more difficult to sell than the jewels, but it had been on permanent display in a completely separate wing of the museum, which suggested that the burglars had gone out of their way to make sure they left with that particular carving. Indeed, it seemed possible that the jewelry had been taken to disguise the thief’s true purpose... except that meant accepting the notion that somepony who was smart enough to devise such a plan would also be dumb enough to steal royal property for their red herring. The RIB had far more resources than most local police departments, after all, which meant to invite their involvement ran counter to the rule of avoiding risks.

Naturally, there were other possibilities; perhaps multiple culprits decided to pool their resources since they both wanted to break into the same building, for instance. To be sure, that sort of thing was unusual, but Curiosity’s instincts were already telling him that there was something unusual about this particular incident.

In any case, his first task was to start interviewing anypony who could possibly have something useful to say. Unfortunately, the security guards weren’t all that helpful; all of them had regained consciousness a few hours after midnight, but none of them had any idea how they’d been knocked out—in fact, if they hadn’t remembered waking up, they might never have realized that they’d been knocked out in the first place. This suggested that magic was involved, but as about one-third of Vanhoover’s residents were unicorns, it wasn’t much of a starting point. Ponies who lived in the area around the museum weren’t much help either, because most of them were asleep when the crime was actually committed.

It wasn’t until Curiosity expanded his investigation to a nearby suburb that things started to improve. The recent disappearances had left many ponies feeling quite paranoid, and in the case of one homeowner, this paranoia had kept her awake most of the night. Around three o’clock, she thought she’d heard something coming from the dense forest that began at the edge of her property. Naturally, as she was worried about disappearing, she hadn’t bothered to check it out for herself, but instead she’d checked all the locks on her doors and cowered under a blanket with a cast-iron skillet between her hooves for protection. When morning did arrive, she managed to convince herself that she had just been hearing things, but as this was the closest thing Curiosity had to a lead, he decided to check out the area for himself.

At first, it seemed like another dead end; if an escaping thief had been in the area, they’d certainly made sure not to leave any clues like hoofprints on the ground. He was just about to leave when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a sapling that had been snapped in half. A closer look revealed that the wood was still green. Somepony was here last night, he thought to himself. He began a second, more careful search of the area, and soon he was rewarded by a glint of sunlight off of a cut gemstone peaking through the dirt. 

It was a sapphire pendant from Celestia’s collection. Apparently, the culprit had dropped it at some point during the getaway—most likely whatever accident had caused the sapling to break—and in the commotion and darkness, its absence had gone unnoticed. In all likelihood, the thief wouldn’t have even realized that the oddly-shaped rock they had trampled into the ground was part of their ill-gotten collection. 

Curiosity briefly considered recruiting some local officers to help him further, but given how standoffish they’d been before, he decided against it. By all rights, then, he should have sent a message to Canterlot asking for another agent to assist him, but that could mean letting the trail get cold as he waited for this new arrival, and he wasn’t going to risk that now. Instead, he decided to send the pendant back to town to be stored with all of the other evidence while he went further into the forest to see if there was anything else to find.

This was a mistake. Within fifteen minutes, Curiosity realized to his distress that even though the forests of northwestern Equestria weren’t nearly as dark as the Everfree, the conifers and hardwoods were still quite dense, and as spring had only recently transitioned into summer, the noonday sun was dazzling him with bright greens all around, getting him very quickly disoriented and utterly lost. As he strained his ears for sounds of civilization that seemed to have been completely absorbed by the foliage, he idly wished that he’d had the assistance of a pegasus who could fly above the forest’s canopy to get some bearings.

Once he’d determined that he was, indeed, lost, Curiosity’s first idea was to do the sensible thing and stay put to make the eventual search party’s job easier. Surely he couldn’t be the first out-of-towner to get lost in these woods, and there were probably locals who specialized in retrieving fools like him. No doubt he was in for a lot of embarrassment when he returned to town, but things could be a lot worse.

Thirty minutes later, things got a lot worse, as the formerly sunny day was suddenly darkened by a massive raincloud. Curiosity could have kicked himself for not thinking to check what the local weatherponies had scheduled for the day. It was summer, for Celestia’s sake; of course it was reasonable to expect afternoon thunderstorms—especially in Vanhoover. As there was really no way for him to know how much rainfall was actually planned for the day, Curiosity was faced with the quandary of choosing to stay put (and possibly getting absolutely drenched) and trying to find civilization again—or at the very least, some sort of cabin or cave that would provide more protection than the forest’s leaves.

However, as the first rumblings of thunder filtered through the trees, Curiosity heard something else. He couldn’t tell if it sounded more like a bark or a shout, but it certainly wasn’t weather-related. In any case, wet or dry didn’t matter, because there was also a strong chance that that noise had been made by one of his suspects, and he wasn’t about to let something so trivial as being lost and alone get in the way of his job. Luck proved to be on his side as he strained his ears, because he heard the noise again—fainter this time, but still noticeably different from the gathering storm.

He cautiously moved towards the source of the noises, keeping his eyes peeled for anything that might look like a clue. The sounds grew louder and more distinct as he made his way through the undergrowth; they seemed to have all the rhythms and cadences of speech, though he’d never met any pony who sounded like that. Some light drops of rain began to fall through the canopy, but Curiosity ignored them; all of his instincts said that this was far more important. Still, after ten minutes, he was beginning to wonder if he was simply imagining the noises which were now almost completely drowned out by the falling rain, when suddenly, they spiked in volume.

“That’s the wrong one!”

Curiosity hadn’t expected to suddenly hear a perfectly clear sentence being shouted above the rising din of the storm, and his surprise was enough for him to trip over and exposed tree root, sending him tumbling over an embankment and creating a massive amount of noise of his own as he slid down a steep hill, finally coming to a stop in a stretch of silty mud next to a small pool of water. He got up as soon as he could and looked around. He couldn’t see any sign of anypony—or of anything else capable of speaking Equestrian, for that matter—but then again, if someone had actually spoken, they probably knew he was here now. Steeling his nerves, he decided to try pretending to be a lost hiker, which wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Hello?” he called out. “Is anypony there?”

No response came, or at least none that was audible over the sound of raindrops hitting leaves.

Curiosity turned around, searching for anything that might help him. “I... I think I might be lost. If anypony is around here who can help, I’d certainly be grateful.” It was then that he noticed the hoofprints in the mud, and lowered his head to investigate.

Two seconds later, he heard the roar.

Three seconds later, blackness.


———————


“Name, please.”

The gold-brown pegasus seemed startled by the request, largely because she had been lost in thought, trying to figure out whose attention she needed to get. In retrospect, she should have expected Canterlot Castle to have some sort of receptionist. “Oh, um, sorry,” she said as she nervously ran a hoof through her slightly disheveled, black-to-white gradient mane. “Anna Kronos Darling. I, uh, need to speak with the Princess.”

The receptionist glanced over a list of names for a minute or so before looking up. “There’s nopony by that name scheduled to meet with Princess Celestia today.”

“I... I know. This is kind of short notice, but I really need to talk with her.”

The receptionist let out a somewhat disdainful sigh; apparently, she’d grown skeptical of ponies who “needed” to see the Princess on short notice. “The Princess has a full schedule this afternoon, but if you wait outside the throne room, she may have time to see you at the end of the day.”

“Oh. Uh, okay.”

The receptionist scribbled out a note and stamped it with an important-looking seal. “Take the corridor to your right. The waiting area is at the very end, though the door to the left of the large double-doors. Give this to the guard posted just inside.” She slid the note to the pegasus, who picked it up nervously. “Have a good day, Ms. Daring.”

“Um, actually, it’s Darl—”

“Name, please,” the receptionist said to a pony who’d just entered the area.

The pegasus sighed as she stuffed the note into the pocket of her olive green shirt and trudged down the hallway. Anna Kronos Darling hated her name. Not only was it a mouthful, but “Anna” was fairly unusual as far as pony names went, which was why she normally went by “A.K.” when she was with her friends—all four of them. At least, I hope it’s still four, she briefly thought before banishing the idea from her mind. After all, the only reason she’d taken the trouble to come up from Baltimare was because there was a chance that Curiosity might still be alright, so there was no sense in being negative.

Of the four ponies that A.K. felt comfortable calling “friends,” Curiosity was her oldest one—the only one who’d actually known her before she began studying archeology at the University of Baltimare, in fact. The two of them had been the smartest foals in their school before going their separate ways after graduation, though they’d made a point to keep in touch. A.K. had always gotten a vicarious thrill whenever he’d recounted how he’d puzzled his way to the solution of a seemingly unsolvable case, largely because it usually involved doing the sorts of things she was too nervous to do, like walking up to complete strangers and asking them tons of questions. She much preferred solving the mysteries of the past, where one only needed to consult largely non-judgmental books, combined with occasional field research to dig up relevant artifacts.

Like most of the ponies who knew Curiosity personally, she had been troubled by his apparent disappearance on the job one month previously, but unlike most of them, A.K. hadn’t spent her time lobbying government agencies to expend more resources on their search (well, not until today, at least). Rather, her instincts led her to delve into the folktales and traditions of the area around modern-day Vanhoover, though at the time, she wasn’t sure why she’d thought this might prove useful—though by now, she was convinced that she must have had some distant, half-formed memory of something that was relevant, because she could never have imagined that her research would be so successful.

That being said, once she’d realized where her research was actually taking her, A.K. soon found herself hoping that she was completely and utterly wrong. She had been sorely tempted to abandon her studies on the spot, but once she’d cross-referenced with everything that the public had been told about Curiosity’s disappearance, she realized that she couldn’t risk the possibility that she was right. The only sensible thing was to bring it to Celestia’s attention... well, for the broadest possible meaning of the word “sensible,” in any case.

A.K. reached the end of the hallway and gave the slip of paper to the guard.

“This seems to be in order,” the guard said as he glanced over the note. “Right in here, Ms. Daring.”

“It’s ‘Darling,’” A.K. replied with mild annoyance.

“The note says ‘Daring.’”

A.K. rolled her eyes and let out a soft groan. “Fine, it’s ‘Daring.’ Do whatever you want. Can I sit down now?”

Fortunately, the guard seemed to be used to dealing with irritated supplicants. “You certainly may. If a spot opens up, an official will arrive to inform you.”

“Thanks.”

The guard smiled. “Have a nice day, Daring Do.”

A.K. would have responded, but the guard had already returned to his post, leaving her with a bemused expression on her face. Daring Do? Seriously? That’s even worse than my real name!


———————


Celestia let out a sigh as the fifth supplicant of the day left her throne room. It was days like today that made her question the centuries-old tradition of allowing ordinary Equestrians to bring their problems to her attention. At the moment, she had quite enough things to worry about as the head of state: the griffons were engaging in aggressive grandstanding (again); a new pack of Diamond Dogs was causing problems for rock farmers; and labor negotiations at the Weather Department had become much shakier thanks to a disagreement over hazard pay. Compared to that, listening to local merchants’ requests for exemptions from assorted regulations seemed rather petty. Of course, she only had herself to blame—it was widely known that Celestia had instituted this tradition herself, and unlike many “widely known” facts, this one happened to be true, though few would have guessed that it was Luna who had actually come up with the idea.

Luna... Nightmare Moon. Generation after generation of Celestia’s subjects only knew of her sister as nothing more than legend, a boogeymare from stories told to misbehaving foals. Few would ever guess that the Mare in the Moon really was going to come to get them, regardless of whether they respected their elders or cleaned their plates. In truth, this was the real reason Celestia had found ruling to be more stressful lately: less than twenty years remained before her sister’s scheduled return, and she wasn’t sure if Equestria was ready. True, she had recently taken on a very promising apprentice, but something felt... off about her; Celestia couldn’t seem to figure out if Sunset Shimmer was motivated to learn for the sake of learning, or whether she viewed her education as a means to a still-murky end.

However, dwelling on an uncertain future wouldn’t clear her present schedule, so Celestia decided to get back to business. “Send in the next supplicant.”

“Ah, Your Majesty,” replied her chamberlain, “that was the last supplicant scheduled for today, though I’ve been told that there are several impromptu petitioners who have also requested an audience.”

Celestia groaned. “I really don’t want to deal with this today.”

“We can dismiss them,” the chamberlain suggested.

For a few moments, Celestia briefly considered taking up the offer... which she did. “Yes, I’m sure they can wait until tomorrow. Have the guards tell them to schedule official appointments.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” the chamberlain said with a bow of his head. He turned and walked towards the entrance to inform the remaining petitioners of their misfortune. The guards were just about to open the massive doors for him when Celestia spoke up again.

“Wait,” she said as she thoughtfully stroked her chin with her hoof. “If any petitioners came here from outside Canterlot, let them in.”

“Your Majesty?” the chamberlain said, confused.

“Chalk it up to royal whimsy if any locals are offended,” Celestia replied. In truth, there was a little bit more to her her order than mere eccentricity; after all, anypony who undertook a significant journey to discuss some humdrum, everyday matter would likely have made the effort to schedule an appointment in advance. Residents of Canterlot, on the other hoof, were far more likely to spend a free afternoon waiting for an opening to discuss something mundane, since they didn’t need to worry about travel expenses and finding accommodations. Sure, the idea might not work, but that was her best bet at producing something out of the ordinary, and right now, something out of the ordinary seemed like just the thing to divert her attention from Luna, if only for a short while.

The chamberlain’s bemused expression suggested that he would have preferred Celestia to voice some of this internal monologue rather than leaving him to speculate on her motives, but that was no reason to deny his princess her whims. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”


———————


“Daring Do of Baltimare.” The herald’s exclamation bounced around the cavernous throne room, taking several seconds to fully dissipate.

A.K. couldn’t help but wince as the doors shut behind her; literally everything in her introduction was factually incorrect. Still, none of that was particularly important, at least not when compared to what she had to say. According to the pamphlet she’d read over several dozen times while waiting her turn, she was supposed to advance to the center of the room and bow, so she made to do exactly that.

However, the moment she stalled on the carpet, Celestia interrupted. “You needn’t bother with formalities, Daring Do,” she said as she waved her hoof dismissively. “It’s nearing the end of the day, and I’d like some personal time before setting the sun. Please, come to the throne and present your petition.”

“Oh, okay,” A.K. replied as she walked the rest of the way up the room’s central carpet, stopping at the base of the staircase up to Celestia’s throne. “Uh, well, first of all,” she began, “my name’s not actually Daring Do, and I’m not from Baltimare. There’s been a lot of confusion today, and I guess I decided that it wasn’t worth making a fuss over.”

“Indeed?” Celestia asked as she cocked an eyebrow. “So, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

“My name is Anna Kronos Darling, and I came here from Baltimare because that’s where I’m studying for my archeology degree, but I’m originally from Vanhoover.”

“I see.”

“I’m a close friend of Curiosity. I don’t know if you know who he is, but—”

“If you are referring to the missing Royal Investigator, then yes, I am aware of his recent disappearance, though I have never met him personally. Are you here to request that more resources be devoted to finding him?”

“Not exactly...”

Apparently, this was not the answer that Celestia had expected, as she wrinkled her forehead and flared her nostrils slightly in a quizzical expression. “Please explain.”

A.K. let out a sigh. “Once I learned about Curiosity’s disappearance, the first thing I did was to get in touch with my family to find out what was being done about it. From what I understand, both the Royal Investigation Bureau and the Vanhoover Police Department are taking different approaches. The RIB seems to be assuming that Curiosity found whoever it was that stole your jewelry and disappeared after a confrontation, while the VPD is treating it as just the latest in the series of similar incidents that have been happening over the last few months.”

“And you have a third idea?”

“Not really,” A.K. said.

“You believe that the museum robbery and the disappearances are related, then,” Celestia suggested.

“Honestly, I have no clue what to think there,” A.K. admitted. “I mean, I started out thinking that the RIB was probably right, but since then, I’ve done some research on my own, and, um... I think the results... well...”

“Take your time,” Celesia said reassuringly.

“Okay, well, you know how the robbers also took some sort of artifact from the museum during the robbery? I did some checking, and it turns out that it was a stone glyph from the pre-unification period. I made a sketch of it for you to see.”

A.K. pulled out a folded sheet of paper from one of her pockets, and Celestia levitated it up to her eye view. Not being particularly familiar with the artistic tendencies of ancient cultures, it took a few seconds for her to pick out a familiar-looking shape. “It vaguely resembles a cragodile,” Celestia said.

“Actually, it’s a cipactli; according to legend, it’s some kind of aquatic reptile with an extra mouth at each joint, and it exists in a permanent state of ravenous hunger. When I did some more research into the disappearances, I learned that all of the victims were last seen near rivers or lakes. When I later learned that Curiosity’s trail disappeared near an isolated pool of water in the forest, well... I couldn’t risk the possibility that it’s a coincidence. I... I think they might be dealing with a genuine monster out there.”

Celestia took several moments to ponder this theory. “Why couldn’t it be a more mundane creature? After all, alligators and crocodiles are known to occasionally attack ponies.”

“Only when they’re sick or abused, or if they live in someplace like the Everfree Forest where animals don’t listen to ponies. Besides, when they do attack ponies, there’s usually something left behind, which hasn’t been the case so far. From what I can tell, the VPD ruled out the possibility within a week of the first incident.”

“But what makes you so certain that the glyph has something to do with the disappearances?”

“Aside from the fact that Curiosity was trying to find whoever stole it when he disappeared, nothing more than a hunch,” A.K. admitted. “Look, I really don’t know what to do about this. That’s why I wanted to tell all of this to you. I mean, you’re supposed to be the wisest pony in Equestria, right? I figured you’d know what to do.”

“You flatter me,” Celestia replied with a smile as she sat back to consider her options. Obviously, this young mare’s theory was somewhat flimsy, but that, in itself, was no reason to refrain from taking action. For one thing, if there was a long-forgotten creature terrorizing her subjects, it was likely that she would eventually be called on to deal with it anyway. True, she rarely got involved at such an early stage, but since there was a chance that a crime against her Crown was also involved, she could easily use that as justification. Secondly, a change of pace of this sort might be able to keep her from dwelling on her sister’s return for several days as opposed to a few minutes.

But perhaps most importantly, it was her longstanding policy to encourage talented ponies when she found them, and this young pegasus seemed rather promising. All Celestia needed was some evidence to back up her instincts, and she knew exactly how she wanted to gather that evidence.

“Well, I can’t say that I’m fully convinced,” Celestia finally said, “but I do believe it warrants a closer inspection. We shall head to Vanhoover tomorrow.”

A.K. let out a sigh of relief. “Great. If you send somepony to the University of Baltimare, I can hand over my research for you to use.”

Celestia looked confused. “Why go to the trouble? If I have questions, I’ll just ask you.”

“But... you’ll be in Vanhoover. Won’t it be inconvenient to have those kinds of conversations through the mail?”

This seemed to perplex Celestia for a moment, before a look of comprehension appeared on her face. “I see... you misunderstood me. When I said that we would be going to Vanhoover, I wasn’t using the majestic plural. I meant that I will be going to Vanhoover, and you will be coming with me.”

“What?!”

> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A.K.’s mind was still reeling as she stared at the landscape rushing beneath Celestia’s personal chariot. When she’d left for Canterlot, she’d assumed that the best-case scenario involved the Princess taking her idea seriously enough to have somepony else look into it. She wouldn’t have dared to consider the possibility that Celestia would become personally involved in the matter, and she definitely hadn’t expected the Princess to order her to come along to provide personal assistance.

Well... perhaps “order” was too strong a word. After A.K. got over the initial shock, Celestia did eventually rephrase her desire to have the pegasus accompany her as a request... but you didn’t simply turn down a royal request just because you found it inconvenient. You needed a reason. Celestia, however, had managed to counter everything A.K. could come up with. When A.K. brought up her courses at the University of Baltimare, Celestia replied that she could use her personal connections in the administration to make sure she was accommodated. When A.K. noted that she had to keep working at her job to cover her expenses, Celestia immediately offered to pay her for her time (which was just as well, considering A.K. didn’t actually have a job at the moment). And when A.K. implied that she didn’t want other ponies talking about her when she returned to Vanhoover, Celestia suggested that she could avoid the limelight by using “Daring Do” as a pseudonym.

At that point, A.K. finally bowed to the inevitable, and within a few hours, she was sitting next to Celestia as the pair whisked their way towards her hometown. A.K. turned her attention away from the ground just in time to watch Celestia push the sun beneath one horizon and drag the moon out from behind the other. Of course, A.K. had seen hundreds of sunsets before, and more than a few while above the clouds, but for some reason, there seemed to be something different about this particular dusk. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn’t distracted by the flapping of her own wings, or maybe it was the serene expression of the pony who’d actually done the work, but this time, everything seemed ineffably perfect. “That was... beautiful,” she said, wanting to kick herself for not being able to come up with a less clichéd word.

Celestia smiled at the compliment nonetheless. “Thank you. I do have a habit of showing off when I know somepony is watching me,” she replied playfully.

A.K. let out a short, nervous laugh. It felt weird to be speaking so informally with a princess, but Celestia had made it clear that she didn’t want A.K. to bother with all the “Your Majesty” stuff while they were working together—and A.K. was pretty sure that meant that Celestia was treating her as an equal, or at least somepony close enough to her status to make formality irrelevant, assuming she hadn’t mixed up the details of her foalhood civics lessons. “Um, can I ask you something?”

“You certainly may.”

“Well, not that I’m ungrateful for the chance to work with you, but do you really need my help? I mean, you’re the smartest pony in Equestria, right?”

Celestia chuckled. “General intelligence and specific knowledge are hardly the same thing. If I am to face off with a monster from ancient times, it makes sense to get assistance from somepony with more knowledge of the era.”

“But you were alive one thousand years ago. I mean, yeah, I know that the cipactli is older than that, but surely that kind of thing was in your history lessons, right?”

Celestia let out a sigh. “I didn’t exactly have much time for history during my formal education. The idea was advisors could fill me in if it ever became truly necessary.”

“Oh, I guess that would make sense. Still, you’ve had time to learn just about everything there is to know, right?”

“And I’ve had more than enough time to forget most of it. Besides, my duties as Equestria’s Princess mean that I need to focus my attention on the present and the future. Dwelling on the past... well, it’s a luxury I can’t afford.” Celestia trailed off for several seconds, giving A.K. the distinct impression that she had started to dwell on something from her past.

However, the moment was brief, and soon Celestia returned her focus to the conversation. “In any case, I am quite sure that you have spent more time studying the pre-unification era than I have.”

“Yeah, but why not somepony who’s already completed her degree?”

Celestia didn’t respond right away; she merely raised an eyebrow and gave a slight smirk. “You don’t seem particularly thrilled about working with me,” she said, noting with some satisfaction the mildly embarrassed expression that appeared on her companion’s face. “Now, with most ponies, I’d assume that has something to do with a fear of failure, but you actually strike me a fairly confident mare. So, would you mind explaining why you’re trying to get me to second-guess my own judgment?”

A.K. sighed. Now that she’d been put on the spot, her thoughts seemed much more difficult to put into words. “Well, I... I just prefer to work on my own,” she finally said. “I don’t handle collaboration very well.”

“Yet you were close enough to Curiosity to bring this matter to my attention.”

“Curiosity was never dumb enough to try to do anything constructive with me. As foals, we spent our time together hanging out and talking about stuff that doesn’t matter, like hoofball or movies. Anything that required any sort of sustained cooperation on my part got vetoed immediately.”

“So why didn’t you refuse to help me?” Celestia asked.

“Because you’re Princess Celestia.”

“I see,” Celestia replied. “I suppose that could make the situation awkward.”

“So... does this mean you’ve changed your mind?”

“Oh, goodness, no. I still need an expert, and if, as you say, this cipactli is a relatively obscure creature, you’ve probably done more research on it than most professional archeologists, and besides that, you grew up in Vanhoover. You are most definitely the most qualified pony available. In any case, we seem to have arrived.”


———————


A.K. had hoped that she and Celestia would set to work as soon as they arrived, but this proved to be almost naively optimistic. Celestia was the princess, after all, and Vanhoover was one of the largest cities in her realm. No matter how spur-of-the-moment her decision to visit was, it was only natural that the locals would have some sort of welcoming party. She had to meet and greet local officials, listen to their concerns, and give some sort of explanation about what she was doing there, and that was before spending time mingling with her more common subjects, many of whom were not about to let something as minor as potential abduction keep them from glimpsing their sovereign.

Celestia had suggested that A.K. take the opportunity to catch up with her family, since she was back in her hometown, and A.K. had followed that suggestion, albeit somewhat reluctantly. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her parents—it was just that her interests were so different from theirs that she struggled to maintain any sort of conversation with them. 

That being said, the evening went reasonably well. Her mother was overjoyed at her surprise visit and immediately set about making far too much for dinner. Her father, on the other hoof, took a bit more time to warm up, largely because he wanted to know why she wasn’t attending her classes in Baltimare. When A.K. responded with the truth, he was rather hesitant to accept it, largely because she was still being called “Daring Do” in all the press releases thanks to bureaucratic inertia back in Canterlot, which meant that her own name was nowhere to be found in the evening paper. Still, everything was more or less enjoyable, though as usual, A.K. had to deal with the awkwardness of not sounding condescending whenever one of her parents asked simplistic follow-up questions.

“So, this chipotle thing, is it dangerous?” her mother asked, her eyes and ears focused on her daughter’s response.

Daring did her best to ignore the mangling of “cipactli” but refused to look up from her plate. “It might be, Mom, but I don’t know yet.”

“Well,” her Dad started slowly, “why would Celestia come here if it wasn’t?”

“Because if it is dangerous, it might be really dangerous.”

Her parents shared a glance.

“But now that they know what’s causing all these disappearances, they’re going to stop it, right?”

“No, Dad, they don’t know what’s causing all the incidents, but there’s a chance it might be a cipactli.”

“But there’s a plan for what to do if it is a chipotle, right?” Her mother nibbled her lower lip.

“Not really, we don’t know enough about these creatures, assuming that they even exist.”

“Well, what is this thing trying to do anyway?” her father asked, throwing his hooves up.

“Nopony knows.”

It seemed like half of A.K.’s conversations with her parents went like that, as if they couldn’t comprehend their brilliant daughter being uncertain about anything. A.K. just seemed to be more comfortable accepting the unknown than they were—she was fairly certain that that was the reason why her cutie mark was a compass, even though she’d never shown any interest in mapmaking or orienteering beyond the basics of getting from Point A to Point B. It was almost a relief when one of Celestia’s guards showed up to let her know that the investigation would begin the next morning; besides confirming her claim that she really was working with Celestia, it gave her an excuse to go to bed.


———————


The next morning, A.K. met up with the princess at the Vanhoover Historical Society to begin the investigation... sort of. After spending about a half-hour reviewing the known facts of the case with the RIB, the two of them split up to examine their respective areas of expertise: A.K. started researching the glyph, while Celestia, being an ostensible expert on her own collection of jewelry, took a look at what had been stolen or left behind to see if there was something that had eluded law enforcement. 

In reality, Celestia was obliging A.K.’s preference for solitude by drawing as much attention away from her as possible—indeed, her personal collection of jewelry was so large that she didn’t recognize half of the pieces that were on display. That said, Celestia’s recall of jewelry with magical effects was excellent, and after a half-hour of perusal, she was quite confident that none of the gems that had been stolen had any effect besides making the wearer look pretty, or in the case of a particularly gaudy heart-shaped amethyst pendant set in platinum and surrounded with rubies and sapphires, making the wearer look like a wealthy idiot with no fashion sense. After making a silent vow to never again purchase jewels while intoxicated, Celestia returned to her expert to find out how the real investigation was going.

After briefly perusing the crime scene for anything that might have been missed, A.K. had withdrawn to the museum’s reading room to look at the artifact’s documentation. Like most of the stone carvings on permanent display at the museum, it had been discovered by an amateur deep in the Northwestern forest, at a site called Catavi Temple, even though there was no reason to assume the site had any ritual significance (besides the fact that archeologists always assumed that sites had ritual significance when their purpose wasn’t obvious, that is). A few of the other glyphs were isolated discoveries, but had been included with the main collection because the images were clearly in a similar artistic style. Most were of various monsters, though a few appeared to depict ponies in elaborate garb—presumably priests or rulers from the long-lost civilization that had created them.

Celestia nodded as she listened to this background information. “I see... I shall have to summarize that for my commonplace book.”

“Your what?” A.K. asked, confused.

“It’s sort of like a diary, except instead of writing down all of my thoughts and feelings, I jot down the facts I’ve learned, as well as my initial analyses of those facts when relevant. It’s admittedly old-fashioned, but it works.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When I told you that I’d been alive long enough to forget everything I’ve learned, I wasn’t joking. My memory is no different from any other pony’s, and any information I don’t regularly use will eventually be forgotten. It took me two hundred years to accept that, and it caused me no end of problems until somepony came up with the idea of writing things down.” 

“But you must have hundreds of those books by now.”

“Thousands, actually,” Celestia replied, “but I also have a Royal Indexer back in Canterlot whose sole job is to catalog all this information, so I can always check to see if I had learned about something in the past. That’s why I’m certain that you know more about the cipactli than I do.”

“Hmm,” A.K. said, “this commonplace book thing sounds like a clever idea. Who thought of it?”

Celestia sighed. “I forgot to write the pony’s name down. Assuming it was a pony, that is.”

A.K. may not have been the most socially adept pony, but she was starting to get the definite sense that Celestia’s past was not a good conversation topic—partly because much of it was so distant that Celestia had trouble remembering it in the first place, but also because there seemed to be a lot of melancholy attached to whatever she could remember. She decided to try to get the discussion back on track. “Well, I’ve been looking over the field notes that came with the glyph,” she said, gesturing to the sheets of paper spread out on the desk before her, “but I haven’t noticed anything that might give more hints to the nature of a cipactli. But then, I haven’t really had the chance to really analyze all of the information. I, uh, was thinking that maybe I should stay here for a few hours while you start doing your usual monster hunting routine. I mean, you definitely have way more experience there.”

“That is certainly a sensible idea,” Celestia replied. “Let us reconvene around midday. I shall leave one of my guards here so you can send for me if you uncover anything. Agreed?”

A.K. grinned. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Celestia wore a smile of her own as she gracefully exited the museum. Were A.K. a typical pony, she would have assumed that her suggestion to stay was borne of little more than nervousness about facing a potentially dangerous creature, but this young archeologist was clearly far from ordinary. For whatever reason, despite the her extreme introversion, A.K. wasn’t setting off any of Celestia’s usual mentoring instincts. It was time to see what the mare could accomplish when left to her own devices.


———————


Of course, that didn’t mean that Celestia was simply going to do nothing while her counterpart pored over documents. If some previously obscure creature was indeed posing a threat, there were several methods she could use for confirmation. In this case it seemed that the best way to find out if there was some new menace in the forest was simply to ask those who lived there. This caused a bit of confusion when Celestia explained herself to local officials, as they weren’t aware of any ponies living in the forest who had yet to be interviewed by the Vanhoover Police Department.

“I’ve no doubt that you’ve done your due diligence with regard to the ponies who live here,” Celestia replied reassuringly, “but I was referring to the animals.”

“Oh, right,” said the VPD’s chief. “Our investigation really didn’t get much farther than ruling out any known predators in the vicinity. I guess it didn’t occur to anypony that we might be dealing with an unknown one.” 

“There’s no shame in overlooking something that isn’t obvious,” Celestia observed, providing the unicorn with a means of saving face in the event of public grumbling.

“Of course,” the chief replied as a glow from his horn surrounded a blank form on his desk. “I’ll send for some earth ponies to help with the translation.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Celestia replied. “I can understand most animal languages myself.”

“You can?” the police chief exclaimed before immediately attempting to mask his incredulity. Apparently, like many ponies, he had either forgotten or was unaware that Celestia was as much an earth pony as she was a unicorn and a pegasus—although theoretically, animal communication was a talent that any sufficiently sympathetic pony could pick up. “Uh, I mean, of course you can. Right. So, uh, do you need any assistance?”

“No, I think my personal guard will be sufficient. I am very grateful for your offer, however.”

It had been some time since Celestia had last had reason to converse with non-ungulates, so it took a while for her to get back in the groove once she arrived in the forest, but after a few hours, she’d managed to get the information she needed. Although none of the creatures had actually seen any newcomers to the forest (aside from the possible exception of an insomniac squirrel who thought he’d seen something lumbering through the undergrowth), nearly all of them had heard odd noises that definitely didn’t sound like any of the noises that the nice ponies made while visiting. In short, there was something odd going on deep in the forest, though its precise nature remained to be seen. Celestia headed back to the museum to see what progress her young friend had made, but she was fairly certain it was time to move to the next stage in the investigation.


———————


A.K. groaned as she leaned back in her chair and massaged her temples. One would have thought that she’d have made some sort of progress in determining the function of the glyph, but at the moment, the insight that had served her so well on many an all-nighter for her classes had deserted her. Of course, she also knew that there was nothing ridiculous about her lack of success; after all, scholars had been puzzling over the glyphs in the Vanhoover Historical Society’s collection for decades with little to show for it, while she had only been studying them closely for a few hours.

Perhaps what was truly maddening, though, wasn’t the lack of answers, but rather the fact that her instincts had yet to tell her that she was on a dead end. Instead of moving towards a conclusion, her brain kept idling, like a train waiting in a station, and she had no idea why.

Oh, who are you kidding? I know exactly why I’m having trouble, she thought to herself. It’s because I want this cipactli business to be a dead end.

It wasn’t that A.K. was particularly afraid of having to deal with a toothy, ravenous reptilian of unknown strength; after all, she was currently working with a pony with enough magical power to raise the sun, and if force was needed, Celestia would probably just tell her to get far enough away to avoid collateral damage. No, the real reason A.K. was hoping that her investigation came to nothing was Curiosity. After all, if the cipactli was real, she’d probably never see him again.

As if that’s a good reason to avoid thinking about it, she chided herself. A.K. decided to get up and walk around the museum for a bit, thinking that perhaps moving around might stimulate her mind. She glanced over the rest of the pre-unification exhibit, which included not only glyphs and spears from the ancient civilizations that lived in the area, but also more recent relics of the days of Puddinghead, Platinum, and Hurricane. She strolled out of the permanent exhibit to take a look at Celestia’s jewelry collection, ostensibly to see if any of them had something in common with the glyph (they didn’t), but mostly because she was curious about how much Celestia’s fashion sense had actually changed, given that she had yet to see the princess wearing anything more complicated than a tiara and peytral.

It seemed that Celestia’s taste in ornamentation had changed considerably over the years, though A.K. could hardly follow the fluctuations in style, especially since the burglars had left large chronological gaps behind after their break-in. One piece that remained, however, was particularly intriguing: a dark blue stone carved in the shape of a crescent. For some reason, it felt out of place. Curious, A.K. glanced at the description by the case. Apparently, she was not the first pony to find this pendant interesting.

“This piece is normally kept in a small alcove in the Royal Vaults, separate from the main collection. Her Majesty permitted its inclusion in the exhibit on the condition that she not have to provide information on its origins. Thus, we can not say for certain when Celestia acquired the piece, nor can we determine the meaning of the letter “L” engraved on the reverse, though presumably it is the mark of the manufacturer....”

A.K. eyes widened as inspiration hit her. You idiot! You got so wrapped up in the symbolism of the images that you forgot to consider the glyphs as discrete objects! Why on earth didn’t you think to turn them around?! Of course, she had given the reverse sides of the glyphs cursory examinations, but because they hadn’t shown any pictograms, she’d returned her focus to the obverses. It took all her self-control to keep from galloping back to the reading room in her excitement.

It didn’t take very long before she spotted the patterns. When looked at in isolation, one could easily assume that the lines carved on the backs of the glyphs were there to provide a greater surface area for some sort of adhesive, but when compared one to another, it soon became clear that each one was distinct, even though some looked quite similar, much like cutie marks. The obvious care with which these unique grooves had been etched suggested that they held a purpose beyond mere structural ornamentation. A closer look at the edges of the glyphs revealed a several raised ridges along the sides of the glyphs, and unlike the reverses, these were relatively uniform... and most of them showed signs of wear. These glyphs had been made to slide in and out of something, but what could it be? And did it have anything to do with recent events?

A.K. had absolutely no idea, of course, but her mind was racing faster than her hooves as she sent the guard that Celestia had left behind to find his princess. If they could identify what the glyphs were used for, they might have a hint as to what the motivation for the cipactli glyph’s theft was. That, in turn, might lead them to the thieves, and if they could be pumped for information... they might shed light on what really happened to Curiosity.

The archaeologist was so wrapped up in her thoughts as she paced around the museum lobby that she nearly ran into Celestia... or rather, she nearly ran into the end of one of the Royal Guard’s spears. “Oh, um, sorry,” A.K. said, brushing off her near-skewering by an antsy bodyguard. “We need to talk.”

Celestia nodded. “Indeed. I think we should go into the woods,” she said, “though I am not sure where to start.”

A.K. smiled and pulled out a page of her notes. “Lucky for you, I know exactly where to start.”

> Chapter 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ugh,” A.K. said as she wiped some sweat off her forehead. “I keep forgetting how hot it can get around here in summer.”

This statement piqued Celestia’s curiosity, particularly since the journey to the archeological site had so far consisted of trees, ferns, undergrowth, moss, and even more trees, and there were only so many shades of green one could observe before growing bored. If her introverted associate was willing to create an opening for small talk, Celestia was determined to take advantage. “Really? I thought you grew up around here.”

“I did, but I’m also a total nerd who liked to stay inside and read books whenever the weather got unpleasant. Not that I mind being outside—that’s where you get to do cool stuff like digging and exploration, after all. But when you don’t have anything to distract you from how uncomfortable you are, the outdoors can get pretty irritating.”

A.K.’s discomfort was fairly obvious. She and Celestia had been walking through the woods for more than an hour, and A.K.’s khaki shirt was already soaked in perspiration. It probably would have been worse if she had any supplies to carry, but fortunately, two of Celestia’s guardsponies were bringing up the rear, bearing all manner of things that might prove useful in an emergency. “We could take flight,” Celestia suggested.

“Last I checked, both of your guards were unicorns,” A.K. replied. “Besides, the forest canopy blocks the view of the ground, and you never know what you might find as you get closer to a site.”

“I see,” Celestia said. The archeologist did have a point; even though Celestia was quite confident that these particular guards could find their way back to Vanhoover, leaving them behind rather defeated the purpose of bringing them in the first place. At the time, though, it had made sense to have the pegasi who pulled the royal carriage take on the task of guarding it from ne’er-do-wells and mischief makers. Besides, there was no way of knowing what state of disrepair their destination might be in, and unicorn magic was quite useful for moving debris out of one’s way.

None of this, however, had any bearing on A.K. Yearling’s personal comfort. “Well,” Celestia said after some thought, “perhaps in the future, you might consider wearing a pith helmet.”

“You mean one of those clichéd explorer hats? What good would that do?”

“Quite a lot, if you immerse it in water. Pith retains a lot of moisture, so it will keep your head cool as the water evaporates.”

“Really? Huh... I might have to look into that.”

Any further conversation, however, dropped away as the forest began thinning out. Soon, the party came across a wide clearing. A large stone building stood at one end, while several smaller buildings were sporadically placed nearby. Many of the smaller structures were in a state of disrepair, but the main structure (assuming, of course, that its size reflected its importance) was still in good condition. Oddly, though, it lacked the pyramidal shape normally associated with ritual structures in the area, appearing to have a rectangular layout. A.K. was certain that this was their destination; apart from the fact that it matched the Vanhoover Historical Society’s description, she could spot several telltale signs that the site had been excavated in the past.

As A.K. took a closer look at the buildings, Celestia began looking for any signs of irregular animal activity. Granted, she didn’t really have any reason to think that the creature that the other animals had spoken of was in this specific area, but it couldn’t hurt to check—especially since A.K. seemed to be so insightful when she was on her own. However, within five minutes, it became abundantly clear that that there was nothing irregular going on... because there was nothing going on, full stop. No fresh tracks in the muddy ground, no rustling of branches as squirrels and chipmunks darted from tree to tree, and no birdsongs over the air. In fact, now that Celestia thought of it, she hadn’t even heard the buzz of a single fly or mosquito in quite some time... yet the plants were showing no signs of overgrowth that one would expect of a region that lacked any fauna to devour them. Something was wrong here.

After waiting another ten minutes for evidence of animals that never arrived, Celestia decided to return to her companion to see if she’d made any headway with the site itself.

However, A.K.’s attention wasn’t focused on the buildings, but rather on the guardsponies, who seemed skeptical of her investigative approach. “Ma’am, I really don’t think you should be taking that glyph out of its case unless it’s absolutely necessary,” said the larger of the two, a light gray stallion who’d been a loyal member of the guard for several years. “The museum staff were very clear about the importance of keeping its condition as constant as possible, and the humidity—”

“I am well aware of the importance of stabilization,” A.K. said, clearly annoyed. “I’m an archeologist, after all. If these were normal circumstances, I’d be on board completely. In fact, I would probably be against bringing any of the glyphs out of the museum based on nothing but speculation. However, this situation is clearly not normal, as evidenced by the fact that Princess Celestia is personally involved. Now, please, open the case and let me examine the glyph.”

“Do as she says, Ironside,” Celestia said as she came upon the pair. “The Historical Society let us borrow that glyph specifically because Ms. Darling thinks it might be meant to interact with something here.”

“Pretty sure the reason was because you don’t say no to Celestia,” the other, ever-so-slightly greyer guard said quietly. He’d been the one who had been left to keep watch over A.K. that morning while Celestia had questioned the local fauna.

“I heard that, Monitor,” Celestia said. Monitor was Ironside’s younger brother, and despite their occasional sibling bickering, the two of them generally worked well together, though Monitor seemed to occasionally chafe in his older brother’s shadow....

Celestia winced as she tried to stop herself from drawing any comparisons with her personal experience. Besides, the fact that Monitor was absolutely right didn’t give his brother any excuse for bickering with A.K. “Now, please stop being difficult and let Ms. Darling get to work.”

Ironside begrudgingly removed the glyph from its case and gave it to A.K., who immediately took it to a large depression in the middle of the clearing. For several minutes she worked in silence, ignoring the three onlookers as she turned the glyph around in her hooves before combing over the grassy pit. Eventually, though she climbed out, and began walking towards the largest building—the alleged temple of the “Catavi Temple” dig site.

Ironside was less than impressed. “What? You spent all that time arguing, and you didn’t even use the doohickey?”

A.K. groaned and turned around. “No, I didn’t, but according the records, the missing glyph was found in that depression, and as soon as I saw it, I could tell that it was pony-made: despite years of erosion, it’s far too symmetrical to be natural. Thus, I wanted to see if there was anything that the original team may have overlooked. It turns out that there wasn’t, but that doesn’t mean it was a waste of time.”

“Uh, okay, but you still didn’t need the glyph just yet, did you?”

“Ironside,” Celestia said, “now is not the time to worry about protocol. If being able to hold the glyph helps Ms. Darling’s thought process, then she shall be permitted to hold the glyph.”

“The princess is a teacher, you know,” Monitor said quietly to his brother.

Ironside sighed. “Fine, I’ll drop the matter.”

With that, A.K. was finally free to pursue matters archeological and turned towards the “temple,” though the more she thought about it, the less convinced she was that it had any intrinsically ritual importance. Besides being the wrong shape, it was too close to the edge of the woods: most theories about the religion of the forest’s ancient tribes of sun-worshippers would have suggested that it would be in the center of the clearing, so that all who approached would do so fully exposed to the almighty Sun. This had to be something else.

The building was constructed from large, quarried blocks, and impressively, given its age, its roof was still intact. That said, time had not been kind to the outside of the building, and for the most part, and decorative flourishes had been worn away. Still, near the roof, there were occassional hints of some sort of braided pattern painted in yellow onto those rare sections that still retained their polished smoothness. A.K. flew up to have a closer look and discovered that they weren’t painted, but instead appeared to be inlaid with gold—probably the work of earth ponies, given the general level of stonecraft. Suddenly, the building’s current state seemed less likely to be the result of the elements than opportunistic thieves. The same thieves we’re dealing with? A.K. silently speculated. No, it can’t be. I saw pictures of this site from when the glyphs were first discovered, and this building wasn’t in any better shape then.

The archeologist returned to the ground and turned her attention to the large door, also made of stone, though this seemed to have avoided the ravages of time that the walls had. There probably wasn’t anything worth stealing inlaid into the rock. To one side there was a modern lock that had been installed by the Historical Society, though this wasn’t meant to deter theft so much as accidental damage by curious ponies who happened to be walking through the woods. As it happened, Ironside had also been entrusted to the key for this lock, so, after a minute or so of fumbling through his things, the padlock fell to the ground and he pushed the door open.

The stone hinges must have been polished to an extraordinary level, because there was nary a creak to be heard as the door slid into the murky darkness. Monitor fished out a torch and lit it with his magic, passing it to Celestia, who grasped it with her own magical aura. “You two stand guard out here,” she ordered them. “I’ll summon you if you are needed.”

Looking at the interior in the torchlight, A.K. felt more certain than ever that this building was no temple. Aside from the lack of any plinths where significant objects could be placed, the layout of this first room seemed too narrow and claustrophobic to inspire any sense of awe. In fact, it seemed much more like a hallway than a proper room... and upon seeing the open doorways that lined both sides, she realized that they were indeed standing in a hallway. She and Celestia made a quick, cursory glance of the rooms the layout seemed rather similar to the floor of an office building, except that none of the rooms had any windows to let light in from the outside. 

Not surprisingly, most of the rooms had been stripped of any furnishings they may have once held, though whether by burglars or archeologists was difficult to say without the Historical Society’s records close at hoof. However, most of the rooms appeared to have raised platforms built into the walls, with open storage areas directly beneath them. “Keep your eyes peeled for anything that looks like it was made before the modern era,” A.K. told Celestia. 

“Older than me, you mean?”

“Uh, yeah. They could provide clues about the building’s purpose.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I would have thought that archeologists would have removed anything from the period.”

“You never know what may have been missed in the past,” A.K. said as she started examining every corner of the cubbyholes. “Even the smartest ponies can be blinded by their own assumptions.”

“I shall certainly not attempt to argue that point,” Celestia replied in the melancholic tone which A.K. now recognized as a sign that the princess’s mind was somewhere in the past.

This sort of thing was happening often enough that A.K. was starting to get genuinely curious about what was causing all of this reminiscence, but given how much she valued her own privacy, prying into somepony else’s seemed rather hypocritical. At the same time, however, she wondered if Celestia might actually benefit from somepony to confide in. It was something to consider for later, perhaps, when all of this business of ancient creatures and unsolved mysteries was resolved.

For now, she had a more straightforward question to answer: what was this place actually used for? If she knew that, she could then come up with a working hypothesis of how and where the glyphs were used. She was still turning things over in her mind as she searched the crevices when the torch’s light suddenly dimmed. “Celestia?” she called out. “Is something wrong?”

The light in the room brightened as quickly as it had dimmed. “Oh, I’m sorry about that. It’s just that I noted some sort of reflection in the room across the hall and moved the torch to get a better look. I quite forgot that you were using the light as well.”

“Don’t worry about it,” A.K. said dismissively. “Besides, it sounds like you may have found something interesting.”

It was indeed interesting: what Celestia had seen reflected in the flames turned out to be a decorative metal band around the handle of some sort of tool that resembled an ice pick, and for all A.K. knew, it could very well have exactly that. After all, humid as the northwestern forests got during the summer, in the winter, snow was a fairly common occurrence, even before the region’s climate was being micro-managed by pegasi.

Ordinarily, A.K. would have started musing on whether this object had any significance to the problem at hoof, but a series of noises from the front of the building interrupted her train of thought.

“Ugh... what was that guy doing here?” said an irritated-sounding stallion who was clearly not Ironside or Monitor.

“I don’t know,” replied a mare, “but I doubt he’ll be out for very long. We’d better move fast.”

A.K. turned around to see Celestia’s mouth curve into an uncharacteristic snarl. As a foal, A.K. had often been told about the princess’ near-instinctive protectiveness of others, but this was the first time she’d ever seen it. It seemed clear that Celestia was going to confront the two... which, to A.K.’s mind, wasn’t a good idea—at least, not yet.

“Put out that torch!” she hissed as quietly as she could manage. “If we see what they’re up to, we might learn something.”

Perhaps it was because she was unused to being ordered around by anypony, but for a moment, Celestia seemed taken aback by her associate. Still, once she understood the reasoning, she nodded and quietly extinguished the flame as the sound of hoofsteps began to travel down the hallway.

“I thought the whole point of coming here was to avoid having to deal with security,” the female voice continued.

“It still is,” the stallion replied. “If they thought to put a guard out here, the actual museum must be locked down tighter than Celestia’s lingerie closet.”

A.K. glanced towards Celestia to see an odd expression on the princess’ face, as if she was caught between disgust at an idiom which centered on her sex life and concern over the fact that these two intruders had apparently only encountered one of her two guards.

“Whatever,” said the mare. “Let’s just find the damned things and get out of here.”

“We wouldn’t have to rush if you just used that knockout spell like last time.”

“I told you, that only works if they don’t have any idea that you’re there. I saw that guard’s ears twitching; I’m telling you that he’d already heard us.”

“Yeah, sure,” the stallion said dismissively as he and his accomplice entered the room where A.K. and Celestia had been standing not five minutes earlier. “Now come on. Those blanks have got to be around here somewhere.”

“He didn’t actually say that there were blanks. He just said that if any still existed, they’d be here.”

“I still can’t believe you got the wrong one.”

“It was dark! Besides, all those ancient drawings are so bad that everything looks the same anyway.”

As the pair continued to bicker, A.K. turned to Celestia. “Whatever the glyphs’ purpose is, I don’t think they were ever meant to be used here,” she whispered.

“What makes you say that?”

“Those two decided to break in because they thought that there would be blanks. If I’m right, that means that this isn’t the place where the glyphs were used... it’s where they were made. And if they’re here to find blank glyphs, it probably means that somepony wants to make more—and I’m willing to bet that somepony has a good idea of what’s actually going on here.”

“In that case,” Celestia replied, “I believe it may be time to emerge from the shadows to confront these two. I can be rather imposing when I need to be, and if they do know something about what’s going on, I am confident that we shall learn it.”

Celestia emerged from the shadows and strode into the room where the two thieves were still bickering.

“Look, one way or another, we need to keep this guy happy,” the stallion was insisting as he pored over the room. “I can’t think of anyone who could possibly be as dangerous as him.”

“Are you so certain of that?” Celestia said as she used her magic to light up the room as though her sunlight had penetrated the walls and extended her wings to their full span to maximize her apparent size.

The stallion, who turned out to be a brown earth pony, obviously wasn’t expected any sort of answer to that question, let alone from the Princess of Equestria, and simply stood slack-jawed in front of her, unable to come up with anything that approached a sensible plan. Meanwhile, the mare (a light blue unicorn) made a feeble attempt to cower inside one of the larger storage areas.

“My associate and I overheard a rather interesting conversation between the two of you, though it seems you have left out a few significant details,” Celestia said. “Would you care to elaborate?”

“I thought we had the right to remain silent!” the mare squeaked nervously.

“You do indeed,” Celestia said, “but keep in mind that as the head of the Equestrian government, I have the right to commute the sentences of convicted felons, or even issue pardons if the situation warrants it.”

The stallion somehow managed to look even more intimidated. “You’re... you’re really Celestia?!”

“I am.”

“I... listen, I don’t actually know anything about your lingerie closet—that’s just a thing ponies say where I’m from. And even if I did know something, I would never even think about breaking in—”

But the thief’s rambling was cut short by an unearthly roar from outside the building.


———————


The first thing Celestia saw upon her exit was Ironside’s unconscious body on the ground outside the door. She might have taken a moment or two to check his vital signs if not from a second screeching blast from the woods, now accompanied by multiple crashes in the underbrush. By the time A.K. followed her outside a few seconds later, the source of the noises became abundantly clear when Monitor galloped into the clearing, screaming incoherently as he craned his neck to look backwards. Unfortunately, this meant that he wasn’t watching where he was running, and when he reached the depression in the middle of the clearing, he promptly tumbled head over hooves to the ground.

“Monitor!” Celestia shouted. “What’s going—”

Celestia never finished her question, because the answer made itself known an instant later, as a massive reptile bounded into the clearing. In form, it somewhat resembled an alligator or perhaps a cragodile, but it stood almost as tall as Celestia (if not taller), not counting the pair of horns that sprouted from its head or the massive golden spines that ran down the length of its body. The creature was covered in dark green scales interrupted here and there with a shiny fleck of blue, except on its underbelly, which was a lighter shade of green. At the end of each of its four legs were talons that seemed to stab their way into the ground to increase the beast’s purchase as it moved over land.

But the most prominent feature was the creature’s mouth. As it spied its quarry lying in a ditch, it opened its gaping maw and let out another dissonant bellow, displaying two rows of razor sharp teeth that framed a huge, pink, forked tongue. And even though the beast’s jaw was the only joint to feature a mouth, the fact that the mouth alone took up nearly a third of the creature’s body neither Celestia nor A.K. had any doubt that they had come face to face with a genuine cipactli... and if the drool that was oozing from behind its gums was any indication, the part about ravenous hunger was more than likely true.

For an eternal moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, the cipactli lunged towards the fallen guard, only to be blasted by a beam of magic from Celestia’s horn. As the princess charged towards the menace, A.K. flew over to Monitor. “Are you okay?”

Monitor, apparently, was to frazzled to understand her question, because he gave an answer to a completely different one: “I... I thought I heard something in the woods. I went off to check... and... and that thing saw me.”

“Uh, right,” A.K. said as she glanced up to see Celestia dodging the reptile’s snapping jaws. “C’mon, it’s not safe for you to stay here.”

“I didn’t provoke it. Really, I didn’t. It just saw me and started attacking, honest.”

“We can worry about that later,” A.K. said. “Look, can you stand up on your own? Your brother’s been knocked out, and he’s in real danger if Celestia can’t keep that cipactli at bay.”

This news was enough to get Monitor to stop making excuses. “Ironside?!” He got to his hooves and galloped over to his brother. “Help me get him on my back and I’ll take him inside.”

With some mild struggles, the two of them managed to load the unconscious guard onto his brother. “You take care of him,” A.K. said, “and I’ll help out Celestia.”

“It’s my job—”

“You can argue with me later!” A.K. shouted. “Just stay here and stay safe, alright?” Without waiting for an answer, she flew out the door to where Celestia was still facing off with the massive reptile.

“Celestia, are you okay?” A.K. called out.

The princess didn’t take her eyes off of her opponent, but she answered back, “I’m fine, for the time being.” She was currently standing on the ground, but, as with the thieves, she had her wings fully extended to increase her apparent size, and the cipactli seemed unsure whether to regard her as a potential threat or a potential meal. “Did you come across any weaknesses in your research? Its scales seem to have some resistance to magic.”

A.K. pondered this for a few moments. “Well, the tales are fragmentary, but many of them seem to involve tearing the beast’s limbs off and so that it can’t chase prey, presumably causing it to starve to death.”

“That’s... a bit extreme,” Celestia said uncertainly as the cipactli suddenly charged towards her and snapped its jaws. She managed to dodge out of the way, but she left a few pinions behind between its teeth. That’s when it noticed the archeologist standing out in the open, making no effort to run to safety.

However, despite the surprising speed of the beast’s lunge, A.K. still managed to a pegasus’ most effective defense mechanism and took off from the ground, missing the snapping jaws by mere inches. She scratched her head as she hovered well out of reach of the cipactli, who was now standing beneath her, apparently waiting for her to return to the ground. “Well, it’s obviously not the cleverest animal around. Maybe there’s other ways to immobilize it.”

Clever or not, it didn’t take long for the cipactli to conclude that the little brown pony was a lost cause. It glanced briefly back at the big white one, which had yet to leave the ground, but before it charged again, it sniffed the air... and that’s when its attention turned towards the large square hill with a rectangular cave.

A.K. didn’t know whether the cipactli had picked up Monitor’s scent, but she wasn’t about to let the guards be cornered in the workshop if she could help it. She lowered herself back to the ground, picked up a small rock, and chucked it at the beast’s head. “Hey! Don’t I look tasty enough?” To emphasize the point, she stuck out one of her hind legs and flexed it a bit to make it look more meaty and delicious—well, to the the extent that a vegetarian could make anything look meaty and delicious at the same time, at least.

This seemed to be enough to regain the cipactli’s attention, and it ran towards A.K. However, well before it arrived, it was knocked over by a blast of magic from Celestia. Apparently, its scales magic resistance wasn’t enough to protect it from the actual force behind a magical blow.

It now seemed that the monster had decided that it wasn’t going to accomplish anything as long as the big white one continued to bother it, as it rejoined its fight with Celestia.

For her part, Celestia hadn’t let her brief respite from fighting the cipactli go to waste. “I think I know how to take it down,” she said as she jumped away from another lunge. “I just need to coax it into roaring again, and I can bypass its scales by hitting it in the mouth.”

“Is that it?” A.K. said. “I think I know how to handle that.” She took to the air again and flew over the combatants, coming to a stop in the air behind the cipactli’s field of vision. Seconds later, she rocketed towards the ground as fast as she could, plowing her hooves into the creature’s tail.

The cipactli let out an ear-splitting roar of pain, which was more than enough of a target for Celestia’s magic. In less than a second, she sent a spell into the creature’s mouth, and it immediately collapsed into a lump on the ground.

“Is it dead?” A.K. asked.

“No, it’s merely unconscious,” Celestia replied. “As a rule, I avoid using lethal force until I’m certain it’s needed. There should be facilities in the city that can keep it contained until we figure out what needs to be done.”

“So... is that it, then? Problem solved, everypony goes home?”

“Perhaps...” Celestia trailed off and shook her head. “But I doubt it. Given the racket that creature made with its roaring, it seems unlikely that it would have gone unnoticed while all those ponies were disappearing. Besides that, what we overheard from those thieves makes me think that there is much for us to learn.”

A.K.’s eyes suddenly widened as she realized that she’d made a slight oversight in her haste to help Celestia’s guards. “Aw, crud! The thieves!” She galloped back into the workshop, but the pair of ne’er-do-wells were gone, having hightailed it away from the area during the fracas. Exactly when they’d left was impossible to say, as Monitor had been too busy tending to his brother to notice if anypony else was in the building, but it amounted to the same thing in the end.

“Dammit, those two were our only lead,” A.K. said as she stamped the ground in frustration.

Celestia, however, took a more optimistic view. “I wouldn’t say they were the only lead,” she replied as she eyed the form of the massive reptile. “You’d better get back to Vanhoover and let them know what’s going on. I’ll stay here and make sure that our new friend doesn’t cause any more trouble until you return with some help.”

A.K. nodded her head. “Right.” With that, she took off and flew over the forest canopy back to the city.

Celestia smiled as she watched her associate disappear over the treetops. For somepony who claimed to be bad at working with others, A.K. Darling seemed to have quite a knack for cooperation when the need arose.
> Chapter 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scale Model was fairly certain that she’d had more stressful days than this one, but with the possible exception of the day of her civil service test, she couldn’t think of any of them. Usually, her job as a reptile communication specialist boiled down to explaining to confused snakes that they could only eat rodents from the forest, even though the ones that lived with ponies looked more delicious. Today, though, the earth pony had been charged with getting through to a ravenous beast that seemed more appropriate to old mare’s tales than reality.

Unsurprisingly, housing an animal that hadn’t been seen in the wild since for more than a thousand years was a fairly complicated matter, especially when that animal had already shown a proclivity to violence. Fortunately, it seemed that the ancient tales of the beast’s ravening hunger were somewhat exaggerated, as several dozen cans of cat food seemed to be enough to satiate it, at least temporarily. Still, the Vanhoover Police Department’s animal control unit didn’t seem to be particularly thrilled to keep the cipactli in its custody, even with Celestia’s assurances that their additional expenses would be reimbursed by the Treasury.

There were several reasons for this. Most obviously, at least from Scale’s point of view, the cipactli’s dialect was wildly different from that of other reptiles in the area—so much so that it may as well have been a completely separate language from standard Reptilian. This might have made sense if the cipactli was from some long-extinct species, but the fact that this creature was clearly alive raised all sorts of questions. It should have picked up something from the other creatures in the deep forest, even if that something was as simple as basic warnings.

Of course, it could have been completely feral, but that theory had its own problems. When it wasn’t hungry, the cipactli seemed to be not merely calm, but almost civilized, as if it understood that the reptile specialist was trying to communicate with it. Indeed, as the day wore on, Scale wondered if the creature’s lapses back into its ravenous state had been brought on by its frustration at being unable to make itself understood.

Celestia turned all of this information over in her mind as she listened to Scale vent her own frustrations. She had requested the princess’ assistance after all of her own ideas had come up empty, figuring that Celestia might have better luck communicating with a creature that hadn't been seen for centuries.

“Well, I shall do what I can,” Celestia replied as Scale finally reached the end of her rant, “but bear in mind that my grasp of Old Reptilian was imperfect back when it was standard Reptilian, and it’s had centuries to rust away.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Scale replied.

However, soon after Celestia followed her into the holding pen, a glaring flaw in the plan emerged: the last time the cipactli had encountered the big white horse, the big white horse had blasted it in the face with shiny stuff from her pointy end. As such, its initial reaction was to back into a corner and start growling apprehensively. 

Celestia didn’t say anything initially; she simply stood in the center of the enclosure, offering one of her famously warm smiles, albeit a closed-lipped one. After all, many predators interpreted dental displays as signals of aggression, and Celestia needed this beast to stay calm.

After a minute or so of silence interrupted occasionally with a few seconds of growling, the cipactli visibly relaxed. Apparently, it had concluded that the big white horse wasn’t going to attack right away, though it still eyed Celestia warily.

Celestia took a few moments to retrieve the scraps of Old Equestrian still floating in her memory before addressing the creature. Scale didn't understand most of it, but Celestia’s tone sounded very dignified and respectful. The cipactli, however, merely resumed its confused and frustrated expression, eventually interrupting the princess with an irritated roar.

“Well, that didn’t go as I’d hoped,” Celestia remarked after she’d finished using her wingspan to cow the cipactli.

“How were you hoping it would go?” Scale asked, still eyeing the creature on the opposite corner of the pen.

“I had hoped that speaking the old tongue would provide enough familiarity to allow pony magic to work as it normally does when communicating with other animals, but then again, we have no reason to assume the cipactli has had any meaningful experience with ponies past or present. If that’s the case, perhaps our attempts at verbal communication are actually interfering with our magic.”

“Actually, I’ve already tried a nonverbal approach,” Scale said. “That only provoked the worst reaction yet. But I’m not an alicorn, so maybe if you tried...”

Celestia shook her head and rubbed a hoof against her chin as she mulled over this information. “I doubt that a mere increase in raw magical ability will solve this problem.” She continued to think silently for a few moments before she spoke again. “Treating this creature like a normal animal is getting us nowhere. Perhaps a different approach is needed.” She turned her attention back to the cipactli. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” she said, as if speaking to another ungulate.

The beast let out another dissonant roar, yet it somehow seemed to be a bit less confused, at least to Scale’s ears.

“What about gestures?” Celestia continued. “Do you know what it means when a pony moves its head up and down?”

The cipactli blinked a few times, as if it was recalling a piece of information that should have been obvious hours ago. This time, it didn’t roar, but instead nodded its head.

Celestia smiled. “Now, we’re getting somewhere.”


———————


“You have to understand, the noise really was suspicious.” Monitor had spent most of the morning trying to justify his decision to leave his post the previous day, even though Celestia had accepted his explanation at face value. It seemed that Monitor was the kind of pony who couldn’t tolerate the idea of somepony else questioning his competence, and A.K.’s repeated declarations of apathy on the matter were apparently insufficient. As a result, the previously taciturn guard had transformed into a bit of a chatterbox, and A.K. was beginning to tire of his distractions.

Of course, it might have been possible to ignore Monitor entirely, except that A.K. still needed their assistance. Her first instinct once the cipactli had been detained had been to return to the site and continue searching for clues, but by then, the Vanhoover Police Department had officers swarming all over the place—after all, the intruders had committed assault when they had tried to gain access to the workshop, which meant it was a crime scene. It seemed, however, that being accompanied by members of Celestia’s personal guard did wonders for cutting through red tape. More to the point, Monitor had seen the cipactli up close, and A.K. liked the idea of working with somepony who had a real sense of the situation’s gravity. That said, at the moment, she was far more interested in the would-be thieves who’d knocked out his brother.

“Look,” she said, turning her attention back to the conversation, “I’m not blaming you for leaving your brother behind to check out a noise in the forest. Celestia obviously thinks you were doing your job well, and I’m not about to second guess her. What I’m trying to figure out is whether those burglars knew that there would be a noise that could lure a guard away, or if they were just being opportunistic.”

“What difference does it make?” Ironside asked. As a guard, he was used to boring tasks, but he had little patience for boring conversations, especially when he was expected to take part in them.

A.K. groaned. She hated having to explain the seemingly obvious; she always seemed to sound condescending when she tried. “If there was coordination with the cipactli, that means they may have had some way to communicate with it.”

Ironside snorted derisively before answering, “If they did communicate with it, they must have been really quiet, because I didn’t hear a thing before they snuck up behind me.”

A.K. wrinkled her muzzle in confusion. “I’m sorry, but I don’t quite understand why you’re using a sarcastic tone of voice. After all, nonverbal communication is a thing that exists.”

“It’s not sarcasm; it’s just plain old irritation. I don’t see why this has anything to do with why we came back here. You said you wanted to try to find whatever it was they were after, right? Well, I don’t see how pestering my brother about that overgrown lizard is going to do anything other than making him feel guilty for doing his job and checking out threats to the princess’ wellbeing.”

“Thanks, bro,” Monitor said quietly.

A.K. sighed. “Look, I’m not a professional investigator or anything like that, but if detective work is anything like archeology, any means of getting in the heads of the ponies you’re trying to understand makes things easier. I’m convinced that those two wouldn’t have shown up here unless they had a good reason to think that they’d find something worthwhile, and if they were somehow in cahoots with the cipactli, well, that would support my theory, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess...” Ironside said, “but why not leave it to the actual detectives?”

“Because they’re used to dealing with modern ponies, and whatever those thieves were after would have been left here by ancient ones, and since several civilizations in this general area are known for using secret passages to conceal valuables, somepony like me is better qualified to do the actual searching.”

“And the VPD actually bought that line of reasoning?”

“Nope,” A.K. said, “but I’m working with Princess Celestia, and name-dropping her is a great way to cut through layers of red tape. I’ve even got documentation that allows me to get around any interference.” She pulled a small card out of one of her shirt pockets and presented it to the pair. “See?”

Monitor scratched his head as he looked over the details. “I thought you said your name wasn’t actually Daring Do.”

A.K. sighed and rolled her eyes. “It isn’t, but I’m pretty sure they’re just being passive-aggressive about a civilian sticking her muzzle into official business. Anyway, since I’ve gone to all this trouble, we might as well pick up where Celestia and I left off.”

She entered the workshop and found the room where she and Celestia had initially confronted the pair of burglars. Once the guards were satisfied that nopony was hiding in the shadows with another unpleasant surprise, A.K. began to systematically search the room, pressing her ear against every surface she could find as she tapped it with her hooves.

“So, uh, are you listening for hollow noises?” Ironside asked.

“More or less,” A.K. confirmed as she slid along the ground, “though that doesn’t always work if a passage has been particularly well hidden. Still, it doesn’t take a lot of effort, so it’s a good place to start.”

“You want some help?” Monitor asked.

“I appreciate the offer, but I know what to listen for in the first place,” A.K. said. A few moments later, it occurred to her that her nonchalant tone might have sounded a bit patronizing. “I mean, if you’ve got experience looking for hidden passages, I’ll take it,” she said, raising her head and making eye contact. “I don’t actually know if that’s the sort of thing you guys normally deal with.”

The two brothers looked at each other as they tried to figure out how to respond. “Uh, well, we do deal with secret passages pretty regularly back at the palace...” Ironside started.

“...but we kind of already know where all of them are,” Monitor finished. “At least, we’re pretty sure we know. Most of them were created so guards could quickly change shifts without being disruptive.”

“Right,” A.K. said as she returned to her investigation. After a several minutes of crawling along the floor and sliding against the walls, she finally stood up and brushed the dust off the side of her face. “Hmm... it must be hidden really well. I haven’t picked up on anything.”

“Uh, what about the ceiling?” Monitor asked. “You haven’t checked that yet.”

“This is an earth pony civilization we’re talking about,” A.K. answered. “Putting a secret passage in the ceiling would be awkward and inconvenient, because nopony would even be able to get up there without leaving a ladder out in the open.”

Ironside didn’t quite follow this reasoning. “Wouldn’t that make it the ideal place for a secret passage, though? I mean, you could pull the ladder up behind you when you were using it, and you’d be able to tell if somepony had been there if it wasn’t in its usual spot.”

A.K. opened her mouth to deliver a retort, but nothing came out of her mouth as she realized that the guards actually had a point. So, instead of arguing, she fluttered up to the ceiling and started tapping again. Seconds later, a loose slab of rock crashed to the floor.

“Okay...” A.K. said uncertainly, “it looks like whatever was holding that in place has deteriorated over time. Are you two okay?”

“We’re fine, aside from the fact that we’re going to have to spend at least an hour filling out paperwork to explain what just happened,” Ironside answered. “Is there a ladder or something up there that we can use?”

“Nothing I can see, though I’m going to need some more light to be sure.”

One spell later, A.K. was fluttering back up to the passage with a lit torch in one of her hooves. “No ladder,” she said. “Not that I’m surprised—even if there was something up here at some point, if it was made of wood, it might have rotted away over the centuries.”

“Maybe we should head outside to find something sturdy. I’m sure the police officers have something we can use,” Ironside said.

“Oh, come on, I don’t need a foalsitter,” A.K. called back. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“Have it your way,” Ironside said. “We’ll be here if you need anything.”

“Got it.” With that, A.K. directed her attention to the passage. It seemed rather cramped at first, like a long, low tunnel rather than a hallway, not much wider than two ponies standing abreast. However, this actually made sense, since the architecture of the building didn’t seem to allow much room for a corridor in the first place. Slowly and methodically, the pegasus moved forward, making sure that each stone slab beneath her hooves could support her weight before each step. The passage didn’t seem particularly long—the end wall was plainly visible in the flicker of her torch—but there were few places more dangerous than an old, abandoned building, where the comforting illusion of structural integrity could literally collapse on top of you in seconds if you weren’t careful.

When she finally reached the opposite end, A.K. was mildly nonplussed for a few moments, as it seemed that this passage hadn’t gone anywhere—or perhaps, it had never been a passage at all, and it was simply an unusually small chamber. She was about to give up when she remembered that she had entered through the “floor” of the corridor, and there was no reason to think that she couldn’t exit the same way. After a few minutes of searching, A.K. found the release on a stone latch that had, fortunately, held up to history much better than its counterpart at the other end of the passageway. The stone floor panel slid away, revealing a darkened chamber at the back of the building.

Grasping the torch firmly with her teeth, A.K. flew down from the passage and landed firmly on the ground before looking around. This certainly seemed like some sort of storage area; piles of unfinished glyphs seemed to be everywhere in the room. Most of them appeared to be blanks—which came as no surprise, as these were precisely what the burglars had come here to find in the first place—but at least one pile seemed to contain finished glyphs, all of which depicted earth ponies. This also seemed reasonable enough; whatever these objects were actually used for, earth pony glyphs would probably be in high demand in an earth pony civilization. That said, there was still something about these earth pony glyphs that didn’t look quite right.

Or course, none of this speculation answered the most obvious question of why these glyphs needed to be protected by a secret room, but A.K. dismissed the subject for the time being. After all, she was looking at the remnants of an ancient culture, and she had no idea what the significance of these glyphs were in the first place. Just because she couldn’t think of a good reason for all the security at the moment didn’t mean such a reason didn’t exist.

As she set the torch into an empty sconce on the wall, the archeologist spotted an odd-looking device in the room’s back corner. It was a stone object approximately the size of a nightstand with a rectangular depression set into its top and an image on the side that seemed to depict a creature with the head of a pony and the body of some sort of feline predator. It didn’t take A.K. very long to realize that it was the perfect size to accommodate the various glyphs surrounding her. Almost without thinking, she grabbed the nearest tile and set it into the depression. 

Almost immediately, the pictogram on the stone device glowed red and a harsh, dissonant chord blared out. A.K. whipped the glyph out of the device as fast as possible—so fast that she lost her grip and sent it flying into a wall, where it crashed into dozens of stone shards.

“Are you okay?” Ironside’s muffled voice rang out.

“I’m fine,” A.K. called back. “I just found something that did something unexpected, that’s all.”

“Monitor’s gone to look for a ladder so we can join you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, he’s too busy looking for a ladder outside to actually hear you say that, so we might as well help you when he gets back.”

A.K. rolled her eyes, but she decided that there was no point in being snarky. “You guys still have that glyph from the museum, right?”

“Yeah...”

“Good. Bring it back here.”

By the time the two guards had scrambled their way to the back room, A.K. had tested several more glyphs. As she’d expected, the blanks made the same noise as the first glyph had, but to her surprise, the earth pony glyphs also struck that dissonant tone, though the glow  from the image on the side of the device seemed to be more orangish than red.

“What is this place?” Monitor ask as he finished descending the ladder.

“Most likely a storage area,” A.K. replied, “and to answer your next question, I don’t know why anypony would hide a simple storage area, but I suspect that this device might be what’s truly valuable here. Well, that, or they were just trying to muffle the noise.”

“What is it?” Ironside asked as he peered over her shoulder.

“Some sort of tester, I think. I’m inclined to think it’s magical in nature, though I’ve never heard of earth pony magic being able to produce sounds and glowing colors like this does.” She dropped in a glyph to demonstrate.

After taking a few seconds to rub his ears from the strident blast, Monitor noted, “We have an uncle who makes magical devices that can do that sort of thing, but it involves unicorn magic that’s only a few centuries old at most. If that is earth pony magic, it’s really different from the kind they use nowadays.”

“Unification meant they could focus on the kind they were best at,” A.K. remarked. “Anyway, I’m fairly certain that this device is supposed to show whether a glyph is actually functional, but to be sure, I’ll need to try one that is known to be finished.”

Ironside shrugged and reached into his pack. “Makes as much sense as anything else,” he said, pulling out the glyph from the museum’s collection.

A.K. took the tablet from him and dropped it in the device. She assumed it would produce a dissonant buzz to indicate that the tester was in use. Instead, a sweet, harmonious chord like the sound of a choir filled the room as the pictogram glowed a soft yellow.

“What does that mean?” Ironside asked.

“I have no idea,” A.K. admitted. She pulled the glyph from the tester and stared at it in silence for a few seconds. “It’s definitely an earth pony, just like all the other earth pony glyphs in here, but this is the first one that caused that reaction.”

“Uh, I don’t mean to be a smart aleck, but it’s not like the other earth pony glyphs in here,” Monitor said.

“What do you mean?”

“The earth ponies on these tiles are all blank flanks. That one has a cutie mark.”


———————


“Anyway, when we returned to town, I spent the rest of the afternoon filling out paperwork to have the device transported to the museum, so I haven’t really had the time process all of the information,” A.K. explained as she finished her salad.

“I see,” Celestia replied as she brought a napkin to her lips to wipe away any excess dressing. She and her colleague hadn’t really had an opportunity to reconvene until after sunset. “Well, if you’ll permit me to state the obvious, it seems that these glyphs have some magical purpose that requires them to have a certain level of detail to be effective—indeed, it seems that individual ponies may require bespoke glyphs.”

“Of course,” A.K. said, “but we still don’t know what that purpose is.” She let out a sigh before continuing. “So, how did things go on your end?”

“I don’t think I could exactly call my efforts to communicate with the creature a failure, though true understanding still eludes me.”

“How so?”

“Well, we seem to have determined conclusively that it is capable of understanding modern Equestrian.”

“But since you aren’t explaining what you’ve been able to learn from it, I assume there was a snag.”

“Indeed. For whatever reason, its comprehension seems to be... inconsistent, for lack of a better word. All my attempts at conversing with the cipactli end up following a similar pattern. I begin with a fairly standard introduction, it and shows interest in communicating, but when I try to ask specific questions about what it wants or needs, what comes out of its mouth sounds nothing like any dialect that I or the reptile specialist are aware of. We’ve tried simplifying our questions as much as possible, but nothing seems to work. The creature soon becomes frustrated and starts showing signs of violence. Once these feral episodes begin, it seems to lose the ability to comprehend Equestrian, and we need to feed it several dozen cans of cat food so it can calm down become lucid again.”

“Well, that sucks,” A.K. said. “Do you think it’s getting mad at you for not being able to understand it?”

“We thought so at first, but that doesn’t quite explain why it has made so many attempts to cooperate with us. Scale Model seems to think that it might have learned that this is an easy way to acquire food from ponies, but that explanation doesn’t sit right with me.” Celestia leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for a second, picturing the creature’s face. “It may sound odd, but I’m certain that there’s a spark of intelligence in that creature’s eyes. It doesn’t only show interest in having its own needs met; when I’ve tried telling it more about myself, it almost seems to show genuine curiosity—oh, I’m sorry.”

A.K. blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Your facial expression suddenly changed when I used that word. I didn’t mean to bring up any painful memories of your friend.”

“Huh? Oh. Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that’s what happened, it’s just... oh, never mind. It’s a silly idea.”

Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “You’d be surprised how often ‘silly’ ideas turn out to be the right ones. Don’t drop your line of thought until you’re certain it’s impossible.”

“Well, alright. You see, it just occurred to me that I’ve been assuming that the pictograph on that glyph tester is meant to represent a specific creature, or a concrete idea associated with that creature. However, while you were talking about the cipactli, I realized that the pictograph might actually be depicting a process rather than some sort of fixed entity. A sort of transition between pony and beast, if you will.”

Celestia nodded. “Go on.”

“From what you’ve described, the cipactli definitely understands modern Equestrian, which shouldn’t be possible if it’s had no contact with ponies until now. But you and that specialist seem to be assuming that it speaks some form of Reptilian, based solely on the fact that it is a reptile. And, well, I know this might sound like I’m stretching things a bit, but when you take that fact, and combine it with the possibility that the glyphs are used for some sort transformation, plus the fact that we know that someone out there has a cipactli glyph...”

“A.K., what are you trying to say?”

A.K. leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling as she rubbed her temples with her hooves. “I know that this is going to sound farfetched,” she finally replied as she leaned forward and made eye contact with Celestia again, “and I wouldn’t blame you if you shot it down as wishful thinking on my part—though I can’t imagine wishing something like this on my worst enemy—but...” She trailed off, still uncertain about whether she ought to finish her sentence.

Celestia, however, wouldn’t let her drop the subject. “But... what?”

A.K. let out a sigh. “I think that creature may actually be Curiosity.”

> Chapter 5
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The stomach was getting empty again, and this was very bad. Remembering was hard enough when the stomach was full, but when it was empty, the emptiness overruled everything. It had to be full—not just because full felt better than empty, but because full would let him think and remember, and he had to remember, even if he had forgotten why remembering was important.

Hungry… hungry… hungry… no! Calm! Breathe… think…

He was still trapped by the ponies. That seemed like the right word, but he wasn’t sure. Words seemed to be much more difficult than they used to be for some reason. The ponies wanted him to use words. Sometimes after giving him food to fill the stomach, two of them stayed behind: a green one and a big white one. At first, he’d considered trying to eat them to fill the stomach a little more, but then he remembered that the big white one was dangerous.

At first, the noises they made hadn’t made any sense, until suddenly they did. He tried to make noises of his own, but they didn’t come out right. It was frustrating, and frustration made him angry, and anger made the stomach empty, and then he was hungry… hungry… stop it! Thinking about hunger made everything blur and nothing made sense except eating, eating, eating…

The door squeaked. He looked up. Something was there. He saw that it was moving, which meant it might be food, and he didn’t need to think any more. The mouth opened, the body lunged forward, and the teeth snapped down in an effort to trap the meal, but the only noise was a loud clack as the jaws slapped together.

Then, light filled the room and he was flung against the wall. Squinting, he saw the big white pony again. He let out a growl of protest, but the big white pony had proven its superiority many times over by now, and at the moment, he didn’t feel like trying his luck again.

The big white pony opened its mouth and made some familiar-sounding noises, but he was too hungry to understand them—except for one near the end: “Food.”

Minutes later, a large bowl appeared before him, filled to the brim with some sort of meat. Without pausing, he gorged himself on the contents, barely noticing the faint odor of fish that entered the nostrils as the meal slid down the gullet.

When he’d finished, he looked up again at the big white pony. “Hello again,” she said. “Do you understand me better now that you’ve eaten?”

That was most certainly true, so he nodded the head. He opened the mouth to try to respond, but the big white pony stopped him.

“We’re going to try a different approach this time,” she said. “For now, don’t worry about talking. Just nod your head for ‘yes,’ and shake it for ‘no.’ Do you understand?”

He nodded.

“Excellent,” said the big white pony. “We’ll be working with somepony new this time.”

That’s when he saw the light brown pony. It was about the same size as the green pony from last time, but this one had wings like the big white pony. It also looked very, very familiar.

“Uh, hey, Curiosity. It’s me. Do you remember?”

Curiosity? That... that’s me! Curiosity blinked several times as his memories came back. And that’s A.K.! For the first time in a long time, Curiosity felt something other than hunger, rage, or frustration: happiness. Instinctively, he tried return the greeting, but all that came out of his mouth was another incoherent roar.

“Try not to speak,” said Celestia—who Curiosity only just now recognized as Princess Celestia, to his chagrin. “You seem to be very susceptible to frustration, and right now the last thing we want is for you to regress into a feral state again.”

Curiosity nodded, though he didn’t much like not being able to ask questions.

“I guessing you want to know what’s going on,” A.K. said, apparently picking up her friend’s mood.

Another nod.

“Well, you’ve been turned into an ancient reptilian monster, but I gather you figured that part out for yourself. Princess Celestia and I are trying to figure out who did it, how they did it, and why. Do you remember what happened?”

Curiosity shook his head.

“Knocked out, huh? Well, did you see who did it?”

Curiosity wracked his mind for a few moments before dejectedly shaking his head again.

“Okay,” A.K. said, “how about this: would you be able to lead us to them if we let you out? Or if not to them, to someone who knows them?”

Curiosity shook his head yet again.

“Hmm...” Celestia said as she mulled over an idea. “Curiosity, can you think of anything that might help us if you were able to express it properly.”

Curiosity looked a bit dejected at first, but soon, his face brightened up and he nodded enthusiastically.

“Can you write it down for us?”

The pony-turned-reptile was practically jumping as he continued to nod; apparently, the thought of trying to write hadn’t occurred to him before now.

The princess sent for a pen and paper, but soon, a new obstacle became apparent: holding the pen was nearly impossible. The cipactli’s claws weren’t like pony hooves; to merely pick up the pen Curiosity had to wrap digits around the slim writing utensil, and his attempts at writing were completely illegible. The obvious alternative of holding the pen in his mouth failed as well: Curiosity was clearly not used to the immense power of the jaws, and pen after pen snapped between the razor-sharp teeth, coating the tongue and the chin in black ink and ratcheting up the cipactli’s frustration exponentially. By the time A.K. and Celestia realized what was happening, it was too late: the civilized pony mind had once again submerged beneath the reptile instinct, and as the cipactli started looking at A.K. as though she were a potential meal, Celestia used her magic to tranquilize it once again.


———————


A.K. did her best to stifle a yawn as she and Celestia exited the police station into the summer night. The rush of enthusiasm that had accompanied her initial epiphany about Curiosity had all but fizzled out, and her insistence that she be allowed to interview the cipactli that very evening now seemed embarrassingly immature. There hadn’t been any pressing reason not to wait until the following day, after all.

Of course, that raised a completely different question: why on earth had Celestia acquiesced so quickly? She had only put up a token resistance before sending Ironside to inform the Vanhoover Police Department of her imminent return. Was it to prove a point? There were a lot of ideas bouncing around her head as she accepted Celestia’s invitation to fly up to a nearby cloud to observe the night sky. The two of them sat in appreciative silence for several minutes before A.K. restarted the conversation.

“I... I guess there wasn’t any need to hurry after all.”

“On the contrary,” Celestia said, “I think our activities this evening were quite necessary.”

A.K. cocked an eyebrow skeptically. “Really?”

“Well, if we are judging the situation on whether we’re closer to solving this mystery, then I suppose it was much ado about very little—and I admit that that was why I initially wanted to wait until morning. However, it was your friendship with Curiosity that made our little adventure possible in the first place, and you should never ignore the magic of friendship.”

“The magic of friendship? No offense, but that’s a really corny metaphor.”

“And why do you assume I was being metaphorical?”

“You’re telling me that friendship is magic?”

“Sometimes it can be.”

“So, what, there’s a chance that my friendship alone is enough to get Curiosity back to normal?”

“Perhaps. The way that personal relationships affect pony magic is a much-neglected field, with most of the recorded knowledge focusing on the detrimental effects of social isolation.”

“Recorded... by you?”

Celestia sighed. “No, but they probably should have been. Maybe then, there wouldn’t be any doubts.”

“Doubts about what?”

It was at this point that Celestia realized where the conversation was drifting. If she was to change course, now was the time to do it. The princess looked down at her companion, and she saw a face full of inquisitiveness, with perhaps a touch of concern, but a face that also displayed a sense of trustworthiness. “About my sister,” she finally said.

“Your... your sister?! You mean Nightmare Moon?”

“No, I mean Luna, who is now known to posterity as Nightmare Moon. I take it you’re familiar with the story?”

“Uh, yeah. You and your sister ruled Equestria together long ago, but she got jealous because ponies liked you better, so she tried to take over. The two of you fought, you won, and you banished her to the moon.” A.K. looked up at the celestial ball, which was conveniently full that night. “And there she is,” she said as she stared at the shadowy figure of a mare’s head. “Or at least, the stories say that she’s still up there. But then again, the stories also say that she could come back at any moment to punish misbehaving foals, so I’m guessing it’s not that accurate.”

“It may be more accurate than you think,” Celestia said. “The major flaw, as far as I can tell, is the notion that her wrath will be confined to the guilty. To her mind, all of the ponies left her in isolation, thus she may believe that all are at fault and will be punished accordingly.”

“Wait, you mean she’s not just a boogie mare? She’s actually dangerous?”

“Very much so. And her return draws ever closer. With each passing year, it weighs greater on my mind. In fact, the main reason I initially decided to take up your cause was as an escape from my own fears and doubts.”

“Well, if this was all caused by ponies refusing to spend time with her, I guess that why you wish you’d thought to study friendship and magic back then,” A.K. said, “but why would you have any doubts about what happened? I mean, even if it’s not a formal study, couldn’t you get a good idea of what really happened by rereading your notebooks?”

Celestia gave her companion a weary, mirthless smile. “This was long before I acquired the habit of writing down important details.”

“But I thought you said you couldn’t remember anything that wasn’t in your records.”

“I was oversimplifying a bit. I forget things when I have no reason to call them to mind, in much the same way that everypony else does. The night I banished my sister, however, has been replaying itself in my memory every day for nearly one thousand years.”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense, but I still don’t see why you’d have any reason to second-guess yourself if you’ve never had a chance to forget anything.”

“Ah, but here we run into the second hard lesson I had to learn about memories: they aren’t set in stone. If you make one mistake in a single recollection, that mistake will overpower reality in your memory from that point forward—unless, of course you have a reliable contemporary account written down as a correction, which I don’t have.

“As a result, I have no idea how close the bedtime story is to reality, which means that much of the actual details of how I defeated her are questionable. As a result, even though I’ve been diligently formulating countermeasures against her inevitable return, I can never be truly certain that they will actually be effective. The nuances of pony magic are such that a mage as skilled as my sister can take advantage of any flaw in my defenses, especially since she has been free of distractions for the last millennium as she prepares her offense.”

“Well, are you sure she’ll be hostile?” A.K. asked. “Maybe she’ll have genuinely changed her ways.”

“I suppose it’s possible,” Celestia admitted, “and in truth, nothing would please me more than to learn that all of my worries have been baseless. But in my experience, corruption does not dwindle in isolation—it festers like a cancer. At the end of the day, all I can do is enact what safeguards I can manage before I face her once again, hoping that I haven’t overlooked some important detail that has been lost to the ages.”

“Whoa,” A.K. said as she tried to figure out the right way to respond to this. “That’s... well, that’s heavy. I can’t say I envy your job. I mean, I always knew there had to be more to it than telling other ponies what to do, but this is something else entirely. I really wish I could help you somehow.”

“Indeed?” Celestia asked

“Well, yeah—and not just because I don’t particularly like the idea of your sister being in charge. I mean, it can’t be easy for you to open up about this kind of stuff, yet you opened up to me. I may not be the most socially skilled pony, but I feel like I should be able to do more than say, ‘Sorry to hear that; hope it all works out.’ I mean, you certainly deserve more than that.”

Celestia paused briefly, and then smiled. “You were willing to listen to the ramblings of a very old mare. Never underestimate how much good that can do. I assure you, you have my gratitude.”

A.K. was silent for a few moments, as if she was contemplating what she was going to say next. However, just as she opened her mouth, Monitor’s voice broke its way into the conversation. “Your Majesty, something’s come up that needs your attention.”

“What’s going on?” Celestia asked as her mind returned to the present.

“The thieves—they’ve been caught.”


———————


“So, how did you apprehend the suspects?” Celestia asked the chief of police as she moved briskly through the hallways of the Vancouver Police Department.

“They tried to hit the museum again earlier this evening, just after closing time,” the chief replied. “Seems they weren’t expecting the usual security to have been supplemented by the police. That, or they thought we wouldn’t be prepared for that knockout spell they used last time.”

“Really?” A.K. asked as she tried to keep up. She’d read her share of “canter and banter” scenes in crime novels in the past, but she hadn’t realized that in real life there was actual cantering involved. “That seems really... uh...”

“Shortsighted?” Celestia proffered.

“Well, I was going to say ‘stupid,’ but that works, too,” A.K. replied. “I mean, if they were good enough to plan that museum heist in the first place, why wouldn’t they have come up with a better plan for a second job?”

“That’s one of the reasons we wanted you to return,” the police chief said. “The two of you got a good look at the perpetrators at the dig site, so you can identify whether these are the same ponies.”

“So, what, we’re doing one of those lineup things?” A.K. asked. “With the fancy one-way mirror?”

“Correct,” the chief replied. “This way, please.”

Several minutes later, A.K. and Celestia were seated behind a window looking into a brightly-light room—presumably, the pane of this window was the aforementioned mirror. The police brought in two groups of ponies for them to examine. First came a group of of earth pony stallions, most of whom had coats in assorted shades of brown, followed by a second group of unicorn mares whose coats ranged from purplish-blue to bluish-green. All were given a line of text to read aloud: “This places is locked up tighter than Celestia’s lingerie closet.”

As it happened, this particular sentence made identification a particularly simple matter, as only one pony from each group became visibly nervous when repeating the phrase, indicating that they had concluded that Princess Celestia was sitting on the other side of the mirror. Given how common the idiom was in less respectable circles, the only ponies who would find it notable were the ones who’d come face to face with the alicorn.

“Those two are definitely the same ponies we met before,” Celestia said, “and based on the conversation we overheard at the time, there is is a strong likelihood that they perpetrated the museum robbery as well.”

“Which takes us right back where we started,” the police chief said with a sigh. “Why on earth did two professionals rush into a situation without bothering to come up with a half-decent plan?”

“Fear,” Celestia replied after a brief pause.

“What do you mean?” asked the chief.

“They were working with somepony—or, I should say, someone—during the initial heist,” Celestia explained. “The exact nature of this assistance has yet to be determined, but it seems likely that this conspirator wanted a glyph from the collection as their share.”

“But those two screwed up and stole the wrong one, and now they’re desperate to save their flanks,” A.K. added, catching on immediately. “First, they tried to find some blank glyphs so their ‘friend’ could make their own, and when that didn’t work, they decided to hit the museum again and steal the right glyph... or maybe even all of the glyphs, just to be safe.”

“But... who could provoke that kind of response?” the chief asked.

“I do not know,” Celestia said, “but if mere threats can incite recklessness of this sort, I doubt they believe your police department can protect them from their wrath. Fortunately for them, I am here. If it is not too much trouble, can I question the two with my associate?”


———————


This was, without a doubt, the worst day of Master Key’s life. Worse than the day his locksmithing business went under, worse than the day that loan shark had sent some thugs to rough him up, and worse than the time his first partner in crime had sold him out in court. In fact, the only day that even came close to today on the awfulness scale was the day he’d first met the shadowy figure who’d gotten him into this mess in the first place.

At least he was fairly certain that Aurora wasn’t going to rat him out. Not because Aurora Haze was any more honorable than his first partner, mind you—rather, Master Key doubted that the unicorn would try to cut a deal while he was in the same room. For some unknown reason, the police had decided to question them at the same time, and it was really difficult to turn traitor when your partner could look you in the eye and glare the loyalty back into you.

Still, the interrogators were taking their sweet time getting here, though Master Key didn’t really mind. He briefly considered speaking with Aurora to make sure they kept their story straight, but decided against it; after all, there was no reason to think that cops couldn’t listen in to any conversations that happened in the windowless room. Instead, he continued thinking about the issue that had been bugging him ever since the lineup: Celestia’s theoretical lingerie closet.

Come on, just because they had you say that line, it doesn’t mean that Celestia was the one they called in to identify you. It could have been that pegasus who was with her. And even if it was the princess on the other side of the mirror, it’s not like the cops are going to waste her time by having her question us when they can do the job themselves. He glanced over at Aurora, who was staring straight ahead at a blank wall, trying to keep her face as expressionless as possible. There has to be a reason for questioning us at the same time. It must be some new interrogation technique they thought up. That had to be it. After all, “good cop bad cop” didn’t work when the suspect knew that the “bad cop” wasn’t actually going to follow through with their threats.

Master Key was just starting to ponder what new way the police had thought up to coax out a confession when he heard the door open—and saw a tall, white alicorn stride gracefully into the room, followed by a light brown pegasus and a pair of royal guards. Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap...

“Greetings,” Celestia said politely as she sat down at the metal table across from Master Key while the pegasus took a seat next to her. The guards stood at attention by the door, glaring at the criminals. “I was hoping we could continue our discussion from yesterday,” the princess continued.

Master Key and Aurora glanced at each other briefly, but remained silent.

“As I had been saying,” Celestia continued, “as head of the Equestrian government, I am free to issue commutations or pardons as I see fit, and providing valuable assistance to the Crown would most certainly make you worthy of consideration.”

Master Key had been through the system enough time to recognize the flowery vocabulary of the Equestrian legal system, and he knew what this meant: testify in court, and we’ll go easy on you. He kept his mouth shut, but Aurora had other ideas. “You seriously expect me to agree to sell him out when he’s sitting right there?”

“On the contrary, I expect both of you to sell out whoever has you in such a panic that you would be willing to make a second attempt at robbing the museum. And don’t try to claim that there is no such person: my associate and I overheard the two of you talking about them when we encountered you at the dig site. Who is it, and why do they have such an interest in the Vanhoover Historical Society’s collection of glyphs?”

“We, uh, don’t know what you’re talking about,” Master Key said.

At this point, the pegasus sitting next to Celestia lost her patience. “Oh, give me a break! We know you were supposed to steal a glyph for someone who was helping you out because you were talking about getting a blank from the dig site! I get that they’re probably dangerous, but do you seriously think that Celestia won’t be able to keep you safe from them? Or would you rather be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life waiting for them to get you because you failed?”

Master Key looked over at his partner and cocked an eyebrow inquisitively.

Aurora Haze sighed. “We might as well tell them. It sounds like they’ve got us whether we cooperate or not, and somehow, I get the impression that he wasn’t going to give us another chance anyway.”

Master Key looked at Celestia. “If we help you out, can you make sure we don’t serve time anywhere near here? This guy might have a ton of followers, but I don’t think his influence stretches out that far.”

“That can be arranged,” Celestia said. “Provided you tell me what you know of ‘this guy.’”

“He calls himself Oakheart, but that’s a standard fake name in this part of Equestria—the kind of name a guy gives you as a warning not to look into his real name. Well, I’m actually just assuming it’s a guy, but I’ve never actually seen him.”

“You mean you’ve never met?” the pegasus asked with obvious confusion.

“No, we’ve met him a few times,” replied Aurora, “but he’s always been shrouded in shadows and we’ve never been allowed to get close enough to get a good look at him. Most of the time, we deal with his followers.”

“Gang members, you mean?” Celestia asked.

“Well, I guess the law might consider them to be a gang,” Master Key said, “but they reminded me more of a cult than anything else. A lot of them wear robes, though I don’t know if that’s for creepy religious stuff, or just to make sure we never saw too much to identify them, like their cutie marks.”

“But if they aren’t a cult,” Aurora added, “it’s close enough that it doesn’t make much difference. They never question him, and they get really hostile if you question him.”

“Why was he after the glyph?” the pegasus asked, leaning forward.

“Don’t know,” said Master Key. “He just said it was really important to him, and that he’d help us break into the museum if we could get the one he wanted. He gave Aurora a scroll with instructions for a crazy powerful knockout spell, and he said we could keep anything else from the haul, so long as we got the glyph.”

“Which didn’t happen, and that made him mad, and that’s why you’ve been taking dumber and dumber risks,” the pegasus said.

“I’m sorry,” Master Key said as he shook his head slowly. For a nopony, this mare had an awfully big mouth. “Who the heck are you again?”

“She is called Daring Do,” Celestia said, jumping into the conversation and apparently really irritating the pegasus in the process. “She’s an archaeologist who has been assisting me.”

Master Key sniffed derisively. “Whatever. Are we done here?”

“Almost. Do you know where we can find ‘Oakheart?’”

“The few times we met with him, it was in the forest, near the entrance to a cave,” Aurora said. “We have no idea if that cave is connected to his actual hideout.”

“At the very least, it will bring us closer to the bottom of this mystery,” Celestia said. “One final question: can you point out this cave entrance on a map?”

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem. We can get you close, at least,” Master Key said.

“That is very helpful,” Celestia said with a smile. “Thank you for your cooperation.”