“Come on, Aegie!” my little brother says. “If we don't get there soon, Miss Spice will start without us.”

“All right, I’m coming,” I say as I stretch out my limbs before a small yawn escapes me. I’m used to sleeping a lot more on my off-days, since there's not really much I want to do.

But today was important. Dust Devil had been insisting that I come with him to hear Amber Spice’s stories since a little after my last day off so we could listen together. And have something to talk about.

That thought in mind, I finish peeling myself off the cracked earth I’d been sleeping on to hover next to him. “Lead the way, Dust Devil.”

He cracks off a smart salute and buzzes high into the sky, spins for a second to track down his fire-maned quarry, and uses the spotter hoof sign meaning he sees something on the ground he wants me to check out.

I chuckle, and obligingly fly in the appointed direction. Ever since he got his cutie mark, it seems like he’s spent every waking hour bothering some guard or other to teach him things like that. Well, except for the time he spends playing with his friends or listening to stories.

He swoops down to join me. “Come on, Aegie! Faster!” He zips behind to give me a push. “Why are you so slow today?”

I swat at him with my tail, but he dodges easily. I let out another yawn. “It’s nothing. Just fly on ahead, since you're in such a hurry. I'll catch up soon enough.”

“Today’s story is going to be a little bit different,” the fiery xenos says. “Instead of the myths and fables of the ancient past I usually tell you, this time I'll tell you one that's a bit more recent and, well, more down-to-earth. I'm going to tell you a story about Unicornia, where all the unicorns live. Does that sound good to everypony?”

She scans the small crowd gathered here – the Tornado Trio, me, and Dive Bomber's mother Shining Glaze – and gets looks ranging from my polite ambivalence to Dive Bomber's burning curiosity.

She smiles a bit wider, some of the earlier nervousness falling out of her grin.

“Once upon a time in the magical land of Unicornia, not so long ago, there lived a happy little chef.”

“Miss Spice,” she asks, “what's a chef? Is it some kind of animal, like a sheep? I bet it's something fluffy.”

Amber Spice chuckles softly before answering. “No, Bomber, a chef isn't some kind of animal, though some of them can be pretty fluffy. A chef is like a cook, but they have other cooks serving under them and they rule the kitchen like a king rules his castle. Inside of the kitchen, the chef's word is law, and everypony works together under their direction to produce scrumptious feasts on a daily basis. Well, as scrumptious as food got in Unicornia.

“Now, this happy little chef wasn't really all that happy. In truth, she was more than a little bored, which is a dangerous thing for anypony to be. You see, her special talent was for coming up with novel dishes – that's ‘new kinds of food’ – and she'd already tried making every dish she could think of. So this little chef did what anypony else would do in her horseshoes, and asked her mother for help…”

“Talking to the other unicorns wasn't any help, and neither was looking to the world around her. She still had one place left to look, though: the Royal Archives. Yes, Silver?”

“Yeah. Lightning bees sound pretty cool,” Dive Bomber chimes in. “They must take really special equipment to handle.”

“Because there aren't any, sillies! An archive is a place where old books are kept.”

“You know, reading, writing, words on parchment or paper… None of that means anything to any of you, does it.”

The slanted frown on her muzzle is making me feel like I just kicked a particularly fluffy lamb instead of failing to understand a string of nonsense words.

Shining Glaze raises a wing, and Amber Spice wearily points at her. “I use markings called numerals to help me keep track of measurements and calculations. Is that something like what you're talking about?”

“Yes! Writing is like numerals, but for words and stories. Some of these ‘stories’ are about the past and are called ‘histories’, and those are very important to a lot of unicorns and the Royal Archives were full of these. But the Little Chef was there for another sort of story. One about how to put together foods to make new meals nopony had ever taught her. That nopony had seen in centuries. These stories are called ‘recipes’, and the Little Chef would find one that day that would shake her mountain home of Terra's Horn to its roots…”

“And then, when she turned back to the stove, *FSHHOOM*, the grease caught fire! So then she flung water at it, and *KOSHHHHHHHHE*, it exploded in a brilliant pillar of golden flame! Needless to say, the Little Chef was quite surprised.”

The unicorn's story had certainly been… educational thus far. And more than a little strange. She said a lot of strange words, and would need to stop frequently to explain things in the beginning, though that happened less and less often as she went on.

I'd heard tales of distant magical kingdoms before, usually with a strapping young pegasus as the hero on a journey to slay its wicked sorcerer-king and bring honor and justice to the land. Fairy Tails had always preferred to twist these stories in her telling. The hero and, say, the king's daughter would fall in love, and she would use her magics to help the hero overthrow her corrupt sire. Then the hero and the princess would rule the magical kingdom together in peace and happiness.

I didn't care much for her changes, but Dusty loved her stories. Up until the raiders took her from us, that is.

“But the Little Chef had what she needed: a way forward. A way for her to make the world a tastier place. She was finally back in harmony with her cutie mark! But that isn't the end of her story, not by a long shot…”

“And you'll never guess what they all did next,” she says, clearly prompting her audience to submit guesses.

“They celebrated how a unicorn improved upon a method long thought perfected by the barbarian tribes, showing how much ‘better’ they were?” Dive Bomber says.

“They declared her a witch and burned her!” Dusty declares with a little too much enthusiasm.

“They all agreed that the food was good and kept eating, no matter where the idea came from?” Silver Lining supplies.

“…and then after the sorcerer, the undercooks, and her best friend had all finished testifying, it was time for the Little Chef to take the stand and speak for herself.”

All three of the foals are watching the unicorn like little hawks. Even Shining Glaze is watching with interest as the wait for Amber Spice's next word continues. Amber Spice, meanwhile, is starting to look a little lost in thought.

“Did she tell the stuffy old graybeards that they were bad and wrong, and that new things and progress are good?” Dive Bomber asks.

“Did she ask them to judge her and her food on their own merits, and not on where they came from?” Silver Lining asks.

Amber Spice gives her head a quick shake. “Sorry about the pause. It’s just that we’re coming up on an important part of the story, and I want to make sure I tell it right.

“Now, the Little Chef walked up to the stand and looked up into the mirrored galleries of the Platinum Court and saw the ponies seated there. She saw the vile sorcerer, the haughty princess, the faithless undercook, and many more enemies than anypony should have. She looked again, though, and saw something else. She saw her loving parents, her best friend, and so many faces she'd brightened with a good meal. Taking heart from what she saw, the Little Chef opened her mouth to speak.

“‘Honored members of the Council of Graybeards, hear me! I am not a great and powerful wizard. I am not a revolutionary. I'm not even dissatisfied with my job. I am just a simple mare with a simple dream: to use my talent,’ she says, pointing to her cutie mark, ‘to make the dining room a better place. I love my king, I love Unicornia, and I love my family, and I want to make all of their lives better the best way I know how: by giving them new foods. If that means taking an obscure method from a tome in the Royal Archives, improving upon it, and making it my own? Then so be it.

“‘If that means that I am no longer fit to live on Terra's horn,’ she said with a sniff,” and so does Amber Spice, “‘then so be it. Lock me away, banish me if you must. Just promise me this one thing: that my contributions to unicorn cuisine will not be lost with me. I lay my fate at your hooves, your honors.’

“For a few seconds, there was complete silence in the gleaming courtroom. Then, the Judge spoke up.

“‘Thank you for your testimony,’ he said. ‘The Council and I will now adjourn for deliberation.’ And he and the rest of the Council left to do so.”

“‘Deliberation’ means… Well, it's like arguing, but more thoughtful. Ponies coming together to make an important decision.

“Anyhow, the deliberation lasted several minutes. A few times, raised voices were heard through the great plated doors.

“‘Little Chef,’ the Judge said, ‘We have come to a decision. You have been found guilty of elevating arts that were below us, and of loving Unicornia more than life. For your crimes, you are hereby sentenced to run the Royal Kitchens until the end of your days. This session of the Platinum Court –’ he banged his gavel ‘– is hereby adjourned.’”

“And so the Little Chef got to go back to her kitchen and cook to her heart's content, and she had everything she ever wanted. The end.”

“Well,” she says after the ending has had a few seconds to settle, “what do you think? I haven't had a chance to try out that story before.”

“I think the Little Chef and her best friend should have gotten married!” Silver Lining says, making Amber Spice's eyes widen. “He sounded really sweet.”

“I'm not sure I like the ending. She worked so hard, and all she got was her old job back? I think you should make her the new princess, or something.”

The unicorn looks like she's about to say something, but Dust Devil beats her to it. “No, I think I get it. Sometimes all you want is for things to go back to the way they were before, because things were good then.”

“Yeah, but the way things were before wasn't that great. She was bored stiff, remember?”

“Well,” Shining Glaze chimes in, “I thought it was a pretty good story, if a little unorthodox in execution. You should come to one of the story circles tonight and see how a pegasus does it. I hear Star Chaser's gonna be telling a good one over by the Tabernacle. A newer one, too, so it shouldn't be too depressing or scary like the ones Blue here seems to love so much.”

I twitch at the sudden jab, before noticing her wink. “They're not depressing,” I say, “I just think that stories should teach something, and that the world is a dangerous place.”

“Yeah, but you only need so many stories telling you why you shouldn't stick your wings in the fire before you get the hint,” she says, rising to leave. “Speaking of learning stuff, hey Bomber! How does helping Momma with her work sound? I think I'm getting really close to getting my teleskopos to show images right-side-up…”

“Wow. Bomber says you can see through one of those things for miles, but it's always been upside-down and blurry. I'm coming too!” Dusty says, and then darts off after them.

“Thanks for the story, Miss Spice. We all appreciated it,” Silver Lining says before turning to gallop after his friends. “Hey guys, wait up!”

“That's not how that story really ended, is it,” I say softly, and her face falls.

“No. No it isn't,” she replies. “But what really happened wouldn't have made for a great story for foals.”

“Maybe it would have” – I gently shrug my wings – “maybe it wouldn't. I'm no storyteller. But my sister was, and she always liked to say that all of the best stories are true in some way. Even the ones about magical kingdoms.”

I turn my head to see Dusty and Silver Lining fading into the distance, and turn back to Amber Spice.

“I can't say I know what it's like to lose my home, but I can say that it really sucks to lose your family. Even if they're still alive.

“I'm not usually much for conversation, but if you need to talk and I'm off-duty… You've been good for Dusty. I think he needed some more peaceful stories with happy endings, so… thanks. I… I've got to go.”

“I'm still not sure how you managed to drag me here,” Horizon says. “I haven't been to a story circle since –” he bites back a wince “– in months.”

I let out a sigh. “One of these days,” I say as we take our seats near the small, fragrant fire, “you will tell me what keeps making you bite your tongue. It's no good to keep your troubles bottled up like that.

“That said, it was actually pretty simple: I threatened to withhold your dinner until you agreed to accompany me here. You got a whiff of what I was holding, and your resolve sublimated like dry ice in a furnace.”

“Eh, I've been practically joined at the hip to an alchemist for the past several years,” I say as I waggle my horn. “Over time, I guess that seeped into my language. Anyhow, I just meant that your resolve to not go didn't last long at all when good food was on the line.”

“That's what I don't get. A couple of weeks ago, I'd have said you were threatening me with a good time. What happened?”

“Well obviously, you'd just never had good food before I came along. Now hush; I think he's starting.”

As I spoke, a light-maned pegasus stallion with such a deep blue coat it was nearly black swooped out of the sky to land in the circle by the fire.

It's not really singing, and it's not exactly what I'd call chanting either, but… Well, it has some kind of rhythm to it.

“Once in a land so far away
The sky held different stars,
There dwelt a pony maiden fair
Beyond the ken of ours.

“Her father was a wicked king
But his heart was not lead;
If anypony did break hers
He'd surely strike them dead!”

“Well,” I quietly say to Horizon, “that's certainly a way to start things off. This should be interesting.”

“She wished to part, agreeable-like;
He did not lack for charm.
But if her father thought her hurt,
The colt would come to harm.

“She hatched a plan. A devious plan.
Proud would it Father do.
For if her not-so-love were ‘dead’,
Her sire's ire would be too!”

“Eh,” I say to Horizon, “it's hardly the craziest scheme I've heard. Hay, I've had crazier schemes.”

“Schemes for keeping you parents out of the loop on your love life?” he replies.

“Heheh… Not as such. Let's just say I had a friend with a taste for elaborate pranks, and I had to keep up.”

“Well regardless,” he says, shifting his weight into a more relaxed position, “Star Chaser is still setting things up. We're not even close to the good part yet.”

He raises an eyebrow in return. “You can spend way longer than this telling me about your day.” The eyebrow falls again. “Besides, it's usually worth the wait, at least with Star Chaser or F— her.”

“The beast released its final breath;
The Polymorph was dead.
His anonymity secured,
He would now keep his head.

“Let’s hear it for this stallion true!
Here truly was a card.
He left us these immortal words:
A clean break-up is hard.”

There's applause from around the circle as Star Chaser bows. It's not much different from applause back home, except there are some ponies above us clapping their hooves together atop the Tabernacle cloud bank, and there isn't anypony letting off low-key pyrotechnic spells. I give him a few appreciative stomps as well.

“Okay, that was actually pretty good,” I say. “Got to say, though, wings for shadow puppets is cheating.”

“Fair enough,” I say, as ponies start to get up and go their separate ways. “Wings aren't nearly as useful for… Idunno, lighting things on fire, I suppose.”

I peel myself off the ground and attempt to shake some loose sand out of my coat, and turn to walk Horizon back to his cloud bank. I hate sand so sparking much.

“So,” I ask, “does everypony here tell their stories in verse like that? With the rhyming and the meter and the tortured word choice?”

“No. I mean, it's common enough that I hear it about a fourth of the time, but it's by no means mandatory. Some ponies say they do it because verse is easier to remember than straight words, but I think they do it to sound more like the old stories. More ‘respectable’.” He makes air quotes with his wings, which is actually pretty weird considering that I learned today that they don't really have a system of writing. At least, they don't anymore…

“And yeah,” he continues with a shallow smirk of his own, “some of it can sound pretty tortured. Star Chaser, though, he's something else. I don't think the guy has said something out of verse since he got his cutie mark.”

“Huh.” I look up at the stars for a bit in silence. “Well, that’s good to hear. I don’t think I could keep my second job as foalsitter if rhyming were a requirement. Come to think of it, that has got to get annoying to listen to after a while.”

“You'd think that, but his wife still looping adores it. That was her in the crowd with the flat black mane.”

We continue in silence for a couple of minutes, and we're back at his cloud bank.

“Well, I guess you can call me Spicy, for the same reason. Anyhow, I couldn't help but notice you've been almost talking about a certain mare several times tonight. Her name wouldn't happen to be Fairy Tails, would it?”

“I heard about her from her little brother, Dust Devil,” I start to babble. “He tackled me the first day I was here and then accused me of making her disappear, heh heh. He… seemed to think I was some creature from the stars?

“Well, the Tornado Trio keeps telling me how great she was at telling stories, and tonight seemed to be reminding you of somepony even more than usual, and you started saying a name that started with an ‘F’, and talking about 'her’, and if you're not okay talking about her right now oh sunscald I'm talking too much how-do-I-shu—”

Horizon, or “Rize” I guess, raises a hoof in the universal gesture of shushing, ratchets it back to his chest, and lets out a long, sighing breath.

“She is— was my fiancé,” he says, “until about a year and a half ago, when –” he lets out a quiet sniffle “– I really don't want to talk about it right now.”

“Well, you really should talk about it sometime with someone, and my mom was a bartender so I know a thing or two about listening to ponies’ troubles. Trust me, you will feel better after opening up about it, just a little, and listening is the least I could do after the whole ‘saving my life’ thing. Even if you have made a complete plot hole of yourself a few times since then.”

“Well,” I continue, “what if I told you the story of how I ended up so far from home? I kinda told the Tornado Trio a, uh, slightly modified version of it today and passed it off as fiction, and it's been helping me put things into context. So, I tell you mine sometime, and you'll tell me yours?”

Rize's frown deepens for several seconds as he appears to mull it over. “Alright. You… You may be right. And I would like to hear that story sometime, just not tonight. Sometime later, then?”

I let out a smile that's only slightly nervous, before I start talking again. “Alright then, it's settled. One of these days, we'll get together to tell each other about our tragic backstories. Just you, me, and a bottle of my family's prized amber mead.

“Speaking of tragic backstories, Dust Devil's other sister, Blue Aegis came—”

“Wait, what? No! Despite my initial, eheh, trepidation on joining this lovely caravan, I don't think I've ever actually been in danger of stabbing. Blue Aegis was there with her brother to hear my story. Saw straight through it, too. She actually offered to talk about it with me if I caught her during some downtime. I… think she might have been crying.”

“I, uh… I've got nothing,” he says. “I don't want to go into specifics, since she's apparently decided to be friendly now, but trust me when I say this is a complete about-face on her opinion about you.”

“Maybe?” he says through what appears to be his please-for-the-love-of-Terra-drop-the-subject grimace. So I oblige.

“Y'know,” Sweep says as he does a barrel roll around me, “I can hardly remember a time you've looked less glum. Sands, I think I've even heard you use sentences bigger than three words.”

“Well,” he continues, “I don't mean that you look ecstatic or joyful – I wouldn't even recognize you then – but now at least you look like a serious guard rather than a freshly animated corpse. What happened?”

I fly up to the little smart alec and give him a sour look. “A corpse? Really?”

“That and worse! I have been holding these in for so long, Rize, you have no idea. For a good while, you looked so skeletal you could have passed for Death himself if we could find you a cloak.”

“But really, Rize, what's new? I'm not even needing to slow down for you at all today.”

‘He’s been… Actually, that's not really all that surprising, come to think of it.’

“Well, I guess it's been a combination of good food, strange company, and trying to get outside my own head for once.” I sweep my gaze across the cracked earth before us. “Or maybe it just feels like I'm back in unfamiliar territory, where I belong. Can't say for certain.”

“Well, whatever the cause,” the manipulative little buzzard says, “it’s good to have you back.”

“Huh. Green. Haven't seen that color outside a pita in weeks.” I let my words hang there for a few wingbeats. “I guess we're finally getting close.”

Desert Spice

by Bugsydor

Chapter 7: Histories and Herstories