The Sweetest Music

Chapter Seventeen

Heartaches by the Number

***

"Tell me the truth."

Lyra's tone was low, growling, menacing. The lawyer gulped, sweating profusely as the two mares and the stallion sat in the kitchen - Lyra did not want to allow him into the sacredness of the living room. Neither did Bon-Bon. "Tell me the whole truth," Lyra repeated, "because I don't believe that my mother is dead." It seemed that now the five stages - or whatever - were finally kicking in, in the morning, after the thoughtless, emotionless, dreamless sleep. (Or had there been dreams? Lyra didn't remember.) Anger, grief, disbelief, denial - yes, probably. All at once. Not without a reason.

"Miss Heartstrings, I have already told you: I am very, very sorry, but your mother was killed - along with several other ponies - in a terrorist attack. According to her will, you are to inherit her property," the stallion reiterated in a dull, sombre tone. "Now, if you will just come with me to Canterlot to come into your inheritance..."

"What the hell are you talking about," Lyra snapped. "A terrorist attack? And why would I want to come with you, of all ponies? Who. The hell. Are you?!" Now her mind was slightly blanketed by anger: not enough to infringe upon her mental stability, but enough to muffle the voice of inner tranquillity.

The lawyer sighed. "I have told you: I am Discreet Heart, your late mother's lawyer. You've seen my badge. You've seen my license. You have my business card." He sounded almost desperate. Almost. "So please let me do my job."

Of course. It's all about doing your job. Lyra wanted to punch the stallion in the face really badly. She wasn't sure if Bon-Bon would help her, though. Perhaps she would. Bon-Bon herself just sat next to Lyra, keeping enough distance to be discrete, yet near, offering her support. Why can't we just be together, without fear of being put in prison? Is it really too much to ask?

Lyra just wanted to be left alone - alone with Bon-Bon. But if that wish could come true, would she crave for something else? Would she go out in the streets, yelling for her love? Would she willingly infringe on the life of ponies who, as of now, were infringing on hers, via silent - or not so silent - support? No, Lyra replied to herself. Maybe she would claim to have been open, but she knew that, by nature, she just wanted a quiet, peaceful life with her mare.

"What's up with the 'terrorist attack'?" Lyra exhaled. The night of sleep hadn't done wonders.

"A terrible explosion in the Central Square." For a moment, Discreet Heart looked sad, even apologetic. Evidently, it wasn't easy talking about that. Did he lose somepony? Lyra mused. Maybe he lost another client. "The news was in all yesterday's newspapers."

"We don't read newspapers," Lyra retorted. Because is there any truth in them - to them? Well, there was some truth, probably: but it was so concealed beneath the lies. A terrorist attack. Another one. Those were rare, very rare, and, as it seemed, limited only to the capital: at least she knew that there had never been any such attacks in the streets of Manehattan, for example, or the quickly developing Los Pegasus. Still, why couldn't the government, with all of its mighty intelligence and police force, predict such attacks and prevent them? Maybe they didn't want to? But then again, what was the gain - their gain: the government's gain - in it? Because they are so occupied with raids on gay ponies, Lyra thought bitterly. Of course, this wasn't all that they did, but...

"We're going to Canterlot," Bon-Bon said before actually having realised what she'd said. Her heart leapt to her throat. She tried to control herself, to restrain her body - and mind. This was walking the fault line. This was implying she was having a say in Lyra's matters - that she generally had a say in her mare's matters. But of course I do! She's my mare. But she couldn't show it.

Lyra had to think. Fast. Despite her surprise - or maybe in spite of it... "Yes, Bon-Bon," she nodded, implying that there was a questioning tone to Bon-Bon's words. "We are going to Canterlot, and I'll need your help." Smart move, Lyra, the mare congratulated herself. "We need to visit all the hospitals and... morgues." Lyra collected herself a little, a lump on her throat still forming against all disbelief. "I... I won't believe in that unless..." Unless I see the body, she couldn't bring herself to say.

The lawyer smiled sadly and shook his head. "I am terribly sorry, but... there is no body. It was an explosion. Let me spare you the details." Lyra's disbelief only grew, on one hoof; but on the other hoof... It did make sense, right? It could make sense, at least? "Please do not take me for a liar. I have proof." With that, he reached for his saddlebags and extracted a wedding ring. A ring meant for a long, slender horn. Of a middle-aged green unicorn mare. Once Lyra touched the ring with her telekinesis, there was no doubt. No, there was doubt - but there was no mistake. No forgery could replace the feeling, the magical mark that a bearer left on the ring. And she knew her mother's mark. And it was present. It was there.

"This is your mother's wedding ring," Discreet Heart said unnecessarily. "I was allowed, by the police, to present it to you as evidence. And, well, seeing that it is lawfully yours, anyway..." Why doesn't he wear glasses? Lyra thought stupidly. He would look more professional with glasses on. "You see, there's no mistake: even though there was no body, per se, you must understand that unicorn horns can withstand great damage, and your mother used to wear her ring-"

"Shut up," Lyra commanded, leaning back. "Shut up. We're going to Canterlot. I'm going to Canterlot. You will take the next train. I will see you tomorrow in mo- my residence, at noon." Lyra lit up a cigarette, suppressing tears. "And yes, I want you to execute my orders as they stand. Because now you work for me."

Lyra couldn't help but notice a small, tiny, almost invisible, imperceptible spark of mild admiration, the kind of admiration that sparkles at the show of strength.

"Very well, Miss Heartstrings." The lawyer nodded, getting up. "I will see you tomorrow, Heartstrings residence, twelve p.m." Bon-Bon got up to see him out.

Lyra sighed and closed her eyes - a gesture that seemed her usual companion. She would have to go to Canterlot. Her mother had probably died - no, she had died. Unless that ring was stolen. But... The mint mare took a deep drag, sensing an approaching headache. She didn't feel anything - apart from sheer exhaustion and a lump in her throat. She would deal with it after a short nap - when she and Bon-Bon had taken a train ride. A ride to the place she'd lived in all her life, away from the place she thought she'd finally settled in.

Home.