Maina looked up at him and said, “Sell what? Ordinary food like this? This is just our dinner. It is better than a pony made wheel but not much. What we sell for the fair will be good!”
I could see his mouth watering at our dinner. “No, Foulip. You may not have any of our dinner. Go home to eat, make your own, or buy your dinner from a restaurant. As you pointed out, earlier, we can’t sell it yet and you have been rude.
“Royal Road Law allows us privacy in our camp, which this is until fair opening tomorrow.”
We finished up with the food. The mares broke out the instruments. We had THREE lyres now. Nore had managed to slip another one past my scrutiny. This one was pretty big. It had a deeper, sweeter voice than any of the others, so far. There were several sorts and sizes of flutes to work with too.
The regular evening dancing and singing began.
Shortly, I noticed something. We had watchers. Ponies were gathered all about, where they could hear and see. They were drawn by the loud trills, exotic music, and the brilliant sashes swirling in the firelight.
If it was an omen of things to come, it was good one. The day of the fair dawned clear and fine. Nore, Malit and Sarel took the center of our cul-de-sac with Rom and Sando playing flute and lyre.
I was busy at the snack booth. I set out straight nettle and other baked travel rations, with dipping sauces. I ground nettle cake flour and Phapa helped to shape and bake the dough. Maina was busy making up toppings and tea. Nore had made up a lot of her paper like stuff into cone shaped cups for tea.
Business was brisk. That is putting it mildly. We had to open a second chest of travel rations well before noon! The mares were taking turns at single dances, so that they could rest.
Nore was resting in the food booth to be close to me. I liked that too, truth be told. I watched her serve a cup to a cute little filly with bows in her mane and forelock.
A big pony hoof struck the cup from the filly’s grip! Foulip demanded, “You gets your snacks up at my booth. Got spring water and my secret recipe hay twists!”
The filly started to cry, “Don’t have no coppers left! You spilt my drink! You owes me my drink!”
Nore, face grim, reached out and touched Foulip’s shoulder lightly. He squalled in pain as his hoof dangled uselessly.
I gave my wife an amazed look. A constable charged up.
Foulip started to yap, “Arrest that … thing! She assaulted me! Look at my leg! I done nothing to her and she attack me!”
The constable was not entirely stupid, to my delight. He asked Nore, “Ma'am, what did happen here?”
Foulip cut across, “I told you! Now haul her off!”
He turned and slapped manacles onto Foulip. “Sir, I will arrest you if I have another interruption while I am asking my questions.”
Nore, nodded at the constable’s action and said, “What happened was a violation of fair rules. Unless I misunderstood what they are. It is an offense to interfere with the trade of other booths, exhibits or performers. He assaulted the little filly here, knocking her fresh bought drink from her hooves. He tried to send her away from our booth. It looked like he was about to physically strike her. To defend the young one, I used the Gyptian Death Touch on his shoulder. You came to investigate.”
“Gyptian Death Touch? Is he going to be OK?”
“He will be fine, Constable. He will recover in about an hour. If I wanted to kill him I would have touched him near his heart or up higher on his neck.”
The constable crouched down to be on the filly’s level and asked, “Did it happen the way that she told me or the way that other pony told me?”
Blubbering a bit, she replied, “He spilled my tea drink. He say I got to buy water from him but I got no more copper.”
The constable nodded and told her, “I am sorry about your drink. I am going to take him away. It is all that I am allowed to do.”
Nore waited until the constable led away the limping and protesting Foulip.
Nore quietly poured another, bigger cup of tea and hoofed it to the filly. “Here, little one. See all these things on the board? Help yourself to any two of them. If you want to, use the dip sauces there at the end. If anypony asks you where you got them, tell them that you got them here.”
It was a much happier filly who left the booth.
Nore went out for her turn at dancing. The tune was a complex one, using two different flutes, all three of our lyres at different points and Sarel playing drums. The crowd was thick about her.
As Nore’s set came to an end, there was a regular shower of coins tossed to her. Panting just slightly she gathered up the coins and came back to the booth to count up. The next set was just starting to get underway.
The constable returned. “Foulip and all the other merchants are saying that you are stealing their customers. That is a violation of fair rules.” He hoofed over an Unfair Practice complaint. It really was signed by all the other fair merchants. Glancing up the midway, I noticed some of them pointing our way and laughing.
Nore looked up from counting the different kinds of coins in her take and replied mildly, “All that we have done is here, at the very end of your … midway, do you call it? I am sorry, but your language is new to me.
“Foulip is not the only pony with a booth to actively try stopping ponies from coming to US. We have done nothing of the sort.”
I pointed up the busy midway. “Take a look, constable. Is that busier than the usual Summer Fair? Looks so to me. Looks more like a big Autumn Harvest Fair. This in spite of the flood that has done so much damage.
“They have made a complaint. Loss has to be documented. Town has tax records on all of them. Do a forced count up to document their losses.
“As a matter of curiosity, since you had to close Foulip’s booth, what was his count up? Last summer, he was crowing like a rooster with two sunrises about making seven gold, nine and six. Most he ever made on a Summer Fair.”
The constable said wryly, “He had fifteen gold, five and nine.”
I pointed out, “Right. Some interference. In less than a half day, he had MORE than twice his BEST TOTAL Summer Fair take.
“Still, there is an easy test for whether we are helping or interfering.”
I turned to my lovely young wife and admired her beautiful chestnut coat for a moment before saying, “Nore, put out our baking fires. Please get Rom. Tell him that we are going to pack and leave immediately. Other vendors have made a complaint. We are moving to the wayside just out of town, to the south.”
The constable blinked. “Just like that? Giving up without protest?”
I batted my big donkey eyelashes at him and said with a grin, “I expect a BIG PROTEST! Just not from us. Look at the overall crowd behavior. When they come in, they make a beeline for our encampment and booths. Then they work their way back up the midway, shopping up everything from snacks to new plows.
“I am just pulling out our exotic attraction in compliance with THEIR complaint. The other merchants can then reap the benefits of the unusually large attendance without our interference.”
The constable nodded thoughtfully. “I am sorry that the others are being so greedy. I have been overhearing their chatter about how much they are making. I wish you well.”
“Thank you, Constable. We wish you well, too.”
Rom came over and I explained what we were doing. His question was amusing. “Do your laws and rules allow us to sell and dance at the wayside?”
The constable nodded sourly, “Yes. You can do that. The road and waysides are Royal property and it is within Crowns Law. You will forfeit your space fees if you leave.”
Rom stepped over to the musicians and our current dancer first. Then he went around to our booths. Quietly, our little merchandise got packed away. Sales boards and booth parts were being carefully put into storage in our caravans.
Nore continued to sell our stock of Ka'chek based snacks but made no more. Shortly the last of the tea was sold. The pots and pans were getting cleaned and stowed between customers.
An orange coated customer asked plaintively, “What’s going on? We came because we heard about the music and dancing! The neat snacks and all!”
Nore smiled sadly at the complaining orange pony and pointed up the midway. “They complained that we are taking their trade. By the agreement that allows us to be here, we must reach a settlement with them or leave. We have done no thing wrong and do not wish to give them any of our coins. We are moving to the southern wayside, outside of town.”
She paused a moment and gave him a broad grin. “You might tell the others that you meet where we are going to be. We should be set up by early afternoon. I can promise that there will be more of our dancing, music, snacks and handicrafts.”
He nodded sourly. Nore hoofed over two of the Ka'cheks and pointed to the dips. “Thank you for your understanding of our predicament. There is not much of the sauces left. Help yourself to them.”
While we were putting up the rainflys a frowning group of pastel ponies tromped down our way. The very ponies who had signed the complaint. “What is this nonsense! You can’t just leave like this! You signed in for the whole fair!”
I gave them a saccharine smile and said, “Yes, we can leave. There was a formal complaint about taking your trade. Our only alternatives are to reach a settlement with you all, giving you some of OUR earnings, or leave. We are complying with the complaint and leaving.
“The town gets the whole balance of our fees in lieu of tax. That is in the fair contract terms.”
“You don’t get it, Marchhare! The crowd is already thinning out! Word is all over that your damned dancing horses are leaving! Ponies are turning away even before they get to the fairground.”
Pinching my nostrils shut as if at a vile odor, I replied, “How is that OUR problem? We have been formally requested to stop our unfair practices or leave. Our only practices were music, dancing, snack sales, and handicraft sales, which we registered when we arrived. Stopping them means doing nothing. In compliance with the complaint, which YOU ALL SIGNED, we are leaving.
“You have the entire remaining trade of this whole Summer Fair to yourselves. Much good may it do you!”
Nore gave the whole greedy bunch a sad look and said softly, “We had hoped for a better welcome to Equestria than this. It appears that you are more like Ground Nest than the goodness of Sunbreak or even the constable here. I am sorry.”
I turned my back on them and continued to fold up our rainfly awning with Nore’s help. One unicorn in the group started pulling our folds apart with his magic. The whole bunch were snickering at the prank.
Without warning, Nore lunged under the visible line of his magic and touched his foreleg at the shoulder joint. He screamed and fell on his face in the dirt of the midway. He was struggling to rise, calling, “My leg’s on fire! It hurts!”
The constable was watching unsympathetically and did not interfere.
I mildly admonished, “You need to be careful with that Gyptian Death Touch, dear. Two inches over would have killed him.”
As we refolded the awning, Nore, who is a quick study, replied, “I know that. That is why I did not hit him two inches over.” She gave me a steely eyed stare and added firmly, “You should not say such things in front of hostile hor … ponies. I am the one with a SASH OF ART in Death Touch.”
We stowed the neatly folded awning and secured our hitch.
The others were all ready to go, so Rom called cadence, “Ready for the Road! Lean Left! Lean Right! Pull left! Pull right! Pull, Pull!” We were underway, all in step. Our finest colorful sashes flashing in the sun were making a great show as our whole caravan got moving. A substantial number of ponies followed us.
We reached the Royal Road and turned south. I was totally floored by what I saw. There was a big parade of ponies following us.
–THE END–