Unable to locate the local apple orchards on the map, Applejack scrunched it up, shoved it back into her saddlebag, and strolled onwards. She followed Rarity up the steps, on the basis that at least the mare’s choices would guarantee some good sights first.
She wasn’t disappointed. Paradise Museum sang its own praises, welcoming them with the gentle swash of a fountain like a wedding cake, with the spicy scents of exotic flowers and the tingle of tambourines and unknown string instruments from the entertainers outside. Applejack glanced up to a ceiling full of geometrical lines and edges, yet all were arranged in so many fashions – honeycombs, spirals, radiating beams – that for once she wondered if this was what Twilight felt like whenever she cracked open a mathematics book.
“Now that is pretty,” she said.
Rarity clicked her tongue impatiently. “One day, dear Applejack, I shall have to introduce you to the finer points of artistic criticism.”
“Din’t know you were an architect.” Applejack grinned. “So what’s your critical take on it?”
At least Rarity had the decency to blush. “Yes, well, this is all about the Xanthusian silk gowns. I must confess the… uh…” She glanced up. “The architectural delights are a bit beyond me.”
“Pretty though, ain’t they?”
“I bow to your good taste.”
Further in, arched corridors led them along all manner of paintings. Applejack squinted at each one in the hopes that this would ignite some artistic criticism-ery inside her. She could obviously tell them apart – that was a portrait of a Saddle Arabian with a turban, that was a caravan of camels rising over the dunes, that was just a bunch of yellow-and-blue shapes crisscrossing each other – but all she could think was, That’s pretty. That’s OK. Don’t get that one. Nice, though. Don’t like that one much; what’s the point of painting a bunch of nonsense shapes, anyway?
The next corridor led to a large room that could’ve been the beginnings of a maze; corners and projecting walls suggested that an overhead view of the room plan would’ve been an artwork in itself, albeit a geometrical one. Display cases lined the walls, and a few Saddle Arabian horses and minotaurs peered through them in various states of wide-eyed excitement, pouting polite interest, and saggy-shouldered boredom.
“Aha!” Rarity surged forwards and immediately placed herself before a tall case containing dresses. “Let me see… Oh, as you were. These are Baliosian silks. Aw, I would’ve preferred the Xanthusian. Applejack, be a dear and let me know if you see any Xanthusians.”
“OK,” said Applejack, who was wondering how on earth she was supposed to tell. She peered through the glass. “You’re not wanting these, then?”
“Certainly not! Just look at the things!”
Applejack did so.
She’d picked up from somewhere – probably Rarity herself – that Saddle Arabian dresses often told stories. For the most part, she didn’t get it, unless those stories were about crescent moons and diamond shapes and the significance of blue and silver. Abstract thinking wasn’t alien to her, but then neither was French, and all she could say about that was that she’d know it if she heard it. She didn’t know what it meant.
These dresses were different. They were black except for one part, give or take the flame-like edging on the sleeves and hems. On their chests, a pony-shaped creature reared up, crimson coat set off against a gigantic gold-threaded fire. Both the creature’s eyes were gold.
Its hooves flared with horse-feathers that resembled flames in their own right, and might have been actual flames. Beneath the triumphant rearing creature, a line of ponies in shackles shuffled across the waist, heads down, some with black patches that she hoped weren’t meant to be scorch marks; they appeared at random on their bodies.
“What in the world is that?” she said.
Rarity’s reflection on the glass leaned down and squinted. “It says they’re evil spirits. Der-jinni, or something.”
“A genie?” Applejack shivered at the golden eyes. “That thing?”
“A der-jinni. It says so right here, look.”
Applejack did so. Not that she was any kind of linguist, but the name rang a bell. “Ah think Twilight mentioned ‘em once, and the ‘D’ is s’posed to be silent,” said Applejack. “But Ah thought genies were s’posed to be nice and grant wishes an’ stuff.”
“I’d hate to think what kind of wishes that one is granting!” Rarity turned her nose up at it. “Oh, let’s just keep moving. Merely looking at it makes me feel nauseated.”
“You mean ‘nauseous’, right?” Nevertheless, Applejack followed her further along the wall.
“Oh, I hope the Xanthusian silk gowns aren’t too far away. I wanted to make sketches.”
“Tryin’ out a new fashion at the Carousel Boutique? Well, that’s a mighty fine work ethic you got there, Rarity. Ah always said you can learn a heck of a lot from lookin’ around for new ideas.”
“One does what one can.” Rarity flicked her curled locks and a smile bloomed on her muzzle. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not off to see the orchards yourself.”
“Oh, golden apples are all right, but they can’t beat the Golden Delicious we got back home. Besides, Ah din’t want to turn this into a busmare’s holiday. Work and play shouldn’t mix.”
For a moment, Rarity stopped and eyed her up. Applejack got one raised eyebrow for her troubles.
“But didn’t you just say,” said Rarity, “that you admired that kind of work ethic? As in the one I’m exhibiting right now?”
“Well, yeah, but… uh…” There was a way to make it make sense, she knew. She simply couldn’t think what it was. “Well, apples ain’t fickle like fashion. Apples is apples, come tomorrow or next year. ‘Tain’t jumpin’ from place to place willy-nilly, Ah mean.”
A sigh from her friend suddenly made her feel a lot warmer, despite the almost watery chill of this cooled building, this oasis from the desert heat.
“Applejack, I presume good intentions on your part, but do you know how you’re coming across right now?”
“Er… no. It’s not like Ah hold it against you. Ah know work makes you relaxed, ‘cept when it don’t… Uh… but it just ain’t how Ah do it. Ah’d go see them apples and be like, ‘Hey, that’s a fine piece of work.’ Ah don’t make sketches for Sweet Apple Acres later, ‘cause that’d just be silly –”
Too late, her brain caught up with her mouth.
“Er, I mean, for a farmer to do. ‘Tain’t like Ah could do anything with sketches or nothin’, anyway. But Ah like your work ethic. It’s gettin’ me to some interestin’ places.”
Rarity sighed, longer and sadder this time. “Sometimes, Applejack, I wonder how you don’t alienate more ponies with your blunt tongue.”
“Ah’m jus’ sayin’ what’s on my mind. You know Ah don’t mean nothin’ by it. Tell you what; how ‘bout we go to this museum’s café later and Ah’ll buy us some drinks? Least Ah could do, since Ah’m taggin’ along.”
“Oh, Applejack. Come now. You don’t have to feel obliged to serve other ponies wherever you go. It’s a vacation. I’m more than happy to –”
“Well, Ah’d feel better about it instead of shadowin’ you doin’ nothin’.”
“Relax and enjoy the sights. If anyone deserves some time doing nothing, it’s a workaholic like you.”
They followed the jutting wall round, but whereas Rarity stopped every other yard to lean in close and make comments about gemstone this and Luxuria rug that and Finest Imperial Minotaurian Vase the other thing, Applejack squirmed and rubbed her legs against each other. She’d gone so long without dirt under her hooves – Rarity had insisted she take at least one bath last night – and her muscles itched to buck or to wield clippers or to heave a heavy cart uphill. She could feel them atrophy already; she just knew it.
As Rarity fussed over some brass lamp, Applejack heard the patter of tiny feet and turned around. To her surprise, Spike skittered across the tiled floor towards them.
“Hey, guys!” He skidded to a halt, lost purchase, and bounced off Applejack’s flank and onto his back.
After she pulled him upright, he dusted himself off and said, “Any of you guys seen Twilight anywhere? Hey, wait a minute. How come it’s just the two of you?”
“Whoa there, Sport.” Applejack flicked a bit of dirt off his shoulder. “You look like my Aunt Delicious when someone’s swiped her last rhubarb pie. You’ll pass out runnin’ around in this heat.”
“But Twilight’s schedule said you’d all come here first.” He was hopping from foot to foot.
“Spike, whatever’s the matter?” Rarity eased Applejack aside and bent down to his eye level. “We thought you were enjoying a lie-in.”
“I was, but I really need to see Twilight right away! Where is she?”
Sadly, Applejack shrugged. “Sorry. We all split up.”
“What!?”
“Pinkie Pie persuaded Twilight to reschedule for another day.” Rarity reached for his chin. “Did something happen?”
“ARGH!” Spike flapped his clawed hands. “How can she drop her schedule at a time like this? If you see her, tell her… Oh, forget it! Must dash!”
They watched him skitter pathetically between the weaving walls, occasionally bumping off a scowling horse or muttering minotaur.
“Oh, the poor dear,” said Rarity. “I hope it’s nothing too serious.”
“Wonder why he din’t stop to tell us, though. Something private, maybe?”
“Or he’s got it into his head only Twilight can solve it.” Yet as they moved on, Rarity’s brow creased with worry. “Ooh, I wish I hadn’t seen that! Now I’m going to wonder about him all day, wandering around a strange city all on his own, probably inconsolable…”
“Ah’m sure he’ll be fine. They love dragons here, or at least they ain’t dumb enough to go for one. Anyway, if we see Twilight, we’ll let her know he was lookin’ for her, OK?”
They passed into the gemstone section; unlike before, where the things had merely served as decoration for larger works of art, here they took pride of place. Around them, the room widened into a hall, and overhead clerestory windows let in the blue eyes of the sky and the yellow beams of the sun. Some of the gemstones sparkled.
“Now this is your kind of room,” said Applejack, giving her a gentle nudge. “Whew! Look at that centrepiece!”
On a podium and under a glass case stood an amethyst the size of a pony’s head. Even as they watched, swirling pink lights danced within its heart, tendrils stroking a smooth veneer of outer crystal. Yet past this smooth oval core, jagged edges took over, darkening as though corroded by the outside world. Whoever had tried to carve a giant cabochon out of this thing had given up halfway.
“Try gettin’ that on a tiara, eh Rarity?”
Rarity took one glance before she said, “Merely a replica.”
“Eh? But it’s got swirling lights an’ everythin’. Look!”
“Think, Applejack! Some of these gemstones are ancient and powerful. Do you really think they’d put the originals on display for all and sundry to try and steal? Think of Equestria’s own museums of crystal artefacts. Those are replicas too.”
Applejack walked over and leaned in close, declining to mention she hadn’t visited Equestria’s own museums in her life. If she tilted her head and cocked her ear, she fancied she could hear whispering, but then it could’ve been her imagination.
“Wonder what it’s for.” She examined the information display below. “Darn, that’s a mouthful. ‘Djinn-er-stone.’”
“The Djinnestone,” said a voice smoothly beside her. “Two syllables. Silent ‘e’.”
Applejack met the gaze of a pair of sunglasses. Shrouded by a wide-brimmed hood and concealed behind the collar of a trench coat, the only visible parts of the mare were two thin lines of vanilla yellow either side of the black lenses.
“Sorry.” Applejack sidestepped out of her way. “Ah din’t see you.”
“That’s quite all right,” said the mare; invisible though her mouth was, a smile warmed her voice. “I’m just waiting for a friend. It’s a beautiful stone, isn’t it?”
“Oh, most exquisite,” said Rarity, joining Applejack’s side. “It’s very convincing. As a connoisseur of gemstones myself, I see they’ve gone to a lot of trouble for this ersatz stand-in.”
“Well said!” The mare extended a sleeve; even her hoof was concealed by black fabric. “Of course, I’m not much for lustre and crystal systems myself, but ancient lore? Now that’s my cup of tea.”
Although Rarity shook the stranger’s hoof so hard she almost dislocated a limb, Applejack found herself thinking, What kind of mare wears that getup in this heat? What’s she got to hide? Her own hoofshake was stiff. She could tell the mare wasn’t much in the muscle department.
“Ancient lore?” said Applejack. She sniffed; pheromones wafted off the stranger, but she still caught the sting of worry. Last time she’d smelled that, Apple Bloom had been lying about knocking over the cookie jar.
“In this case, the legend of the Djinnestone.” The stranger turned to the glass case, her voice still full of beaming joy. “According to the ancient scrolls of the Sea of Death, the Djinn used to inhabit their own world. Then one day, clever Saddle Arabian alchemists discovered a way to bring them to our world, using ‘anchors’ to keep them locked here.”
“Huh.” Applejack followed her gaze to the swirling lights. “Bet they din’t like that.”
“Oh, at first they were pleasant enough. In fact, the spirits were fascinated to discover another world like ours, so many of them invited their friends over using more ‘anchor’ alchemy. Unfortunately –” The stranger lowered her head. “– what they liked most was committing evil deeds.”
Something about the harmonics sounded… fake to Applejack’s ears. One moment, it was like listening to a harp twang with the promise of angelic melodies. The next, it was like hearing the off-note, the scratchiness, the slightly-too-deep tone that couldn’t be made by a string instrument at all but could be made by a hidden tape recording.
“No one could stop them. Although the ‘anchors’ locked them into our world, the Djinn soon learned to hide or protect those ‘anchors’ while they stalked the land, consuming and destroying whatever they wished. Soon, they poisoned the Great River of Amon, promising failed crops and starvation to all.”
The dark edges of the amethyst sucked at their gazes like a black hole. It eclipsed even the bright sunlight against the wall opposite. Despite herself, Applejack shuddered.
“So how does this stone thingy come in?” she said.
“Thanks to All-Hazes the Seer. He learned that the ‘anchors’ merely held the spirits’ bodies in place.”
“Ah thought spirits don’t have bodies?”
“In a manner of speaking, they do.” The stranger waved a hoof irritably. “It was All-Hazes the Seer who learned how to bind their selves – their true selves, including their desires, perceptions, wills, thoughts, emotions, everything – to their ‘anchors’. Unlike the alchemists, he used magic. He created the Djinnestone to capture at least four dozen of the worst Djinn there and then, and as a test commanded them to build a dam across the poisoned river. They did it instantly, and he purified the waters, saving everyone.”
Beside Applejack, Rarity shivered. “Binding their selves to a bit of rock? That’s… questionable.”
“It was a necessity. The spirits would’ve killed him if he hadn’t. With their selves bound too, they had no choice but to follow his commands. He controlled them. And… well. Thanks to his insights, disaster was averted.”
Applejack smiled grimly. “A happy endin’, was it?”
“Of course!” The stranger turned her head and cocked it curiously. “You see, thanks to All-Hazes’ magic, the Saddle Arabians learned never to trust a free spirit in our world again. Now, it’s impossible to summon a Djinni without binding their true selves to an ‘anchor’ first.”
“Impossible?” said Applejack. “Or just ain’t done?”
The stranger shrugged. “What’s the difference?”
Rarity stamped her hooves twice for applause. “Bravo, good mare. Bravo. Your enthusiasm is inspiring! And it certainly explains that…” She shuddered. “That hideous costume we saw earlier.”
Batting a hoof, the stranger chuckled. “You’re too kind. It’s just nice to meet someone as interested in the ancient ways as I am.”
“My dear mare, we’d be honoured if you would accompany us around the Paradise Museum. You’re an education.”
Yet the stranger seemed to have exhausted her interest in them both; she turned away. “My apologies, but I have prior engagements. It really was nice talking to you.”
“But I thought you were waiting for a friend?”
“Uh… she seems to be late. Ah well, best go find her. Must run!”
“Wait a second,” said Applejack after her retreating back. “What’s your name?”
“I really am sorry!” The flapping trench coat disappeared round the corner.
Applejack narrowed her eyes.
“What a wonderful young lady!” Rarity said somewhere nearby. “I’d give anything for but a drop of the ocean of insight she could provide. The culture, the history, the creative sparks of inspiration! Er… Applejack, are you OK?”
“Yeah.” She met Rarity’s cool gaze. “Did she seem a li’l odd to you? Ah mean, what with the coat and the hat –”
“Come, come! You can hardly judge a mare by her attire. It’s not like you, Applejack.”
“She smelled like she was up to something.”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Now really! Anyone would think you’d just been conned out of your farm. Relax, Applejack. You’re merely on edge because of the lack of work. Just let it go.”
“All right, all right. Ah was jus’ speakin’ my mind. Din’t wanna accuse anyone. It’s jus’ feelings.”
“Well then.”
Applejack groaned. “Ah’m sorry. You’re right. Ah guess Ah must be on edge. You jus’ savour the moment. Ah don’t wanna ruin your day or nothin’.”
A genteel smile. “That’s the Applejack we know and love. If you like, I could take you to the orchards after I’ve finished here.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“Too late! It’s on my to-do list. Now, onward!”
Yet as they worked their way around the quartz exhibit, Applejack couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder to the stranger’s wake, to the bright square of sunlight, and especially to the dark Djinnestone lurking in the middle of the hall. Even if it was a replica.
Pincers crashed. Crabby forelimbs lunged. Stingers lashed like whips.
Fluttershy leaned over the rails, mouth open, wings spread so she didn’t fall hooves-over-head into the pit. Pinkie next to her winced with the second crash.
“Are they always this violent!?” Pinkie yelped at a third crash.
“Oh, yes. Such strength! Look at how fast they move…” Fluttershy flapped to adjust her tilt.
Hissing and bellowing, the two pony-like heads glared at each other as the two scorpion-like arms broke apart, smashed together, broke apart, lunged, parried, slapped, and batted each other about. Furiously trying to get around each other’s guard, they drew back, all eight legs scuttling, circled each other, and then charged forwards, chests bumping, lower carapace ringing with the bang of armour against armour. The screeching of pincers and stingers was nails on glass.
Around the two combatants, other Scorponies milled about. Fluttershy checked their faces. Most of them sagged with sleepiness, though one or two of the smaller – younger – animals watched the swipe of tails and arms avidly as though taking notes.
Pinkie yelped again. “I don’t like this much. Aren’t there any nice Scorponies around?”
“Oh, Scorponies don’t usually fight,” said Fluttershy, refusing to look away as the two swiped and parried. “I guess this must be their breeding season.”
“So… they’re fighting over girls?”
“No. She’s the one fighting him.”
“What!? Why!? That doesn’t sound romantic at all!”
Fluttershy chuckled. “You don’t need to worry so much, Pinkie. That’s what Scorponies do. If he wins the fight, she’ll respect his power and good health. Then they start dating for real. Play his cards right, and he might just become a proud father of a thousand.”
One of the Scorponies – she noticed the rounder muzzle and recognized the female – broke off to roar so loudly that it ripped into an echoing screech and sandblasted their ears until she ran out of breath and grumbled to a stop. The other Scorpony twitched, torn between a desire to flee and a desire to try another round.
“Goodness, this is exciting!” Fluttershy bit her hooves. “Will he? Won’t he? Oh, the tension… I can’t stand all this tension…”
“You’re weird.” Pinkie shook her head sadly at her.
“Aw…” Fluttershy’s wings slumped. The male waited too long; with another slash, the female Scorpony jolted him into fleeing.
She sighed and watched him scuttle among the others in his efforts to escape. “They would’ve made a lovely couple. For a moment, I thought he was going to get a second wind, but I guess the poor thing was too tired.”
Fluttershy’s nose twitched. Fear reeked off Pinkie Pie like a stinging swarm of bees. She turned back and was surprised to find her friend shaking.
“Can we go now?” said Pinkie. “Please?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how intense a Scorpony fight must look to outsiders. Please excuse my manners. I should’ve thought about you.”
“Yeah.” Pinkie edged away from the rails overlooking the pit. “Intense. Let’s… Let’s just head off someplace else? I need a snack.”
Oh, Fluttershy. You’ve done it again. How can you be so thoughtless? Hastily, Fluttershy zipped through the air, blocking Pinkie’s path.
“Wait! Let me make it up to you. I could show you some nice Scorponies, if you like. I wouldn’t want you to go away with the wrong impression, and not when you look so scared!”
As she led Pinkie over to a row of stables near the pit, she adjusted the angle of her wings. Perhaps a waft of cool wind would help her friend calm down.
Eventually, Pinkie’s trembles turned into shaking chuckles. “And I was thinking you’d pick the warm and fuzzy thing to do! Ha! Guess the joke’s on me, huh?”
“That’s the stuff. Here, let me pay for this one.”
Pinkie eyed the stables suspiciously. “Pay for what?”
“Don’t worry. It won’t take long.”
At the entrance, a Saddle Arabian horse beamed at her, though that might’ve been because she’d just pulled out a hoofful of coins. “Good day to you, friend! Would you like to enter the petting zoo?”
“Yes, please. Two, please.”
She tried to ignore Pinkie’s squeak behind her. “Petting zoo!?”
“Wonderful.” The horse peered down at her coins. “A nice day out, is it? How are you finding the city?”
“It’s beautiful.” Fluttershy sighed; he’d just taken half the coins, which wasn’t good when she’d emptied her saddlebag. “My friends and I are only staying a little while, but it’s so rich. Why, I could stay here for a whole year and still feel like I hadn’t seen everything.”
“Music to my ears, friend. A beautiful city fit for such a beautiful mare, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Aheheheh.” For all the cool breeze curling around her, she suddenly burned as though the desert had broken through. Matilda did say this was a city of romance, but the idea of anyone here taking an interest – even a polite one – hadn’t crossed her mind. Not when Scorponies were in their season.
“And you,” he said, turning to Pinkie. “It must be so exciting for you too, my friend.”
Unlike Fluttershy, Pinkie had no obvious way of dissipating the heat. Her mane was sinking over her brow and down her neck like a pink oil slick. Her coat gleamed. Overhead, the rooftops stood far apart, exposing far more blue and allowing the sun a full shot.
“Y-Yeah.” Pinkie shivered where she stood. “Exciting is the word.”
The stable owner stepped aside and waved them through. Another Saddle Arabian horse – a mare this time – smiled at them on the other side and then stood back to watch. Fluttershy noticed a prod next to her, but shrugged and drifted on.
No ceiling saved the stables from the day. Under Pinkie’s hooves, straw cracked. Stalls ran along either side, merely rising up to a pony’s chest height but almost glowing with light. Wood everywhere peeled.
Poking over the tops of the stalls, the round-faced Scorponies cocked their heads at her. Their eyes were saucers. One or two waved stubby little claws or waggled tails like necklaces.
“Aw…” Fluttershy’s heart melted. “They’re so cute!”
Pinkie’s face paled. “Scorpony babies!? Really!?”
“They don’t fight, and they can’t sting you or pinch you.” Fluttershy reached down, hardly daring to believe she was this close to a Scorpony baby – a real baby! Gently as she could, she rubbed the nearest one under its chin.
At once, the creature stiffened. A shiver ran down its carapace. Both eyes closed and both lips stretched in a smile that just kept growing. She rubbed harder; the Scorpony’s chin was soft and squishy as a newborn foal. Two of its left legs stamped and stamped and ended up drumming the floor as though unable to handle such sheer pleasure.
She heard Pinkie’s hooves crunch closer.
“Don’t Mommy and Daddy mind?” said Pinkie.
“Scorponies grow up fast. Once they’re too big to carry around, the babies climb off and go hunting for themselves.” Honesty pushed her to add, “Although it is a good thing the adults can’t see us. They don’t like anyone touching babies. They’re extremely protective. Why don’t you try it? That one looks friendly.”
The “friendly” one opened its mouth in a yawn.
Pinkie scuffed the floor in her haste to back away. “I’m good.”
“Hm?” Fluttershy followed her gaze. “Oh, the teeth. It’s OK. They don’t bite.”
“You sure?” Pinkie winced as a couple of fangs clicked together.
“I’m positive. Come on. When you get home, wouldn’t it be nice to say you petted a Scorpony?”
By now, the lucky baby had rolled onto its belly. Fluttershy scratched its chest and heard the rough sandpaper scraping. Beside her, Pinkie’s shadow fell over another baby. Her pink hoof stretched out. The baby sniffed it curiously.
“See? They’re not so bad once you get to know them.”
Squeaking with the shock, Pinkie touched the muzzle. The baby grinned – Pinkie drew back instantly – but then raised its chin as an open invitation. Gradually, her touch became a tap became a stroking of the skin, and the baby wiggled on its legs.
“Hey, yeah.” Pinkie’s old glee rose up in her voice. “This isn’t bad! In fact…” She scratched more vigorously until the baby gurgled. “I like this! I really like this!”
“Told you, huh?” Just this once, Fluttershy allowed herself a smug grin. Sometimes it was nice to be proven right.
“Fluttershy, you are the most amazingest pony I know. Wait until I tell Twilight!” A gasp. “We should get everyone back here! Can you imagine the look on Rainbow’s face when we pretend they’re so vicious, and then lead her in here and start petting one, and she’ll be like, ‘Hey! I thought you said they were nasty and mean and bitey!’ And we’ll be like, ‘Haha, no. They’re cute little babies!’ And she’ll be like, ‘You prankster, you! You got my hopes up! I wanted to see ‘em fighting!’”
Fluttershy relaxed. When Pinkie Pie was thinking up pranks, she knew all was well with the world.
To her surprise, a scuffling broke the silence. They glanced at the entrance in time to see Spike run between the stable-owner’s legs and skid to a halt beside them.
Concern flooded Fluttershy’s chest before she’d even taken in the reddening face, the blazing smell of dragon sweat, or the panting so heavy it sounded like his lungs were threatening self-eviction. Instinct pushed her towards him.
“Oh my,” she said, reaching out. “Spike. You look awful. Do you want a drink?”
“Where’s…” Spike waved her away. “Where’s Twilight?”
“I dunno.” Pinkie hopped over. “Haven’t seen her. Do you want one of us to go get her? I could find her faster than Rainbow could eat a triple-decker hayburger. And that’s hyper fast. I got a knack for it.”
At the stable entrance, the owner frowned first at his attendant – who hadn’t reacted in any way beyond smiling again – and then at Spike. “Please, Mister Dragon! You must pay to come in here! It is the rules!”
Spike’s stomach bulged and thinned with each breath. “Gotta… Gotta tell… Twilight… it’s missing… I gotta…”
Oh no. A robbery? In this city? But I thought it was supposed to be peaceful here! Oh no. My things… My room… What if someone else…?
At Spike’s stumbling attempts to zigzag to the exit, however, all thought evaporated. She flapped over to him; Pinkie hopped alongside.
“You shouldn’t run in this heat,” said Fluttershy. “It’ll make you ill. Let me get you a nice, cooling drink…”
“NO! Gotta GO!”
Next moment, he was a blur streaking between the legs of the stable-owner, who blinked in astonishment.
“Spike!” Pinkie hopped over him. “Wait up!”
“What just happened?” he said. “You two know that young dragon?”
“Sorry about this.” Fluttershy slipped through the gap between his back and the door frame. She paused only to stop and wave at the crying babies, who were gabbling after her and waving their pincers pleadingly.
By the time she crossed the open area to where Pinkie stood, the street crowd swallowed up Spike’s outline. Frantically, she soared up and scanned for him, but the crowd ran river-like down the boulevard and off the main tributaries of road. Higher up, only rooftops and spires dominated.
“Poor Spike,” she said.
More crashes burst out of the pit. Fluttershy stopped her wings and fell down, flicked out her wings just shy of the ground, and landed with a flutter next to Pinkie Pie.
“We should go help him,” said Pinkie at once. “He’ll get lost, and then he’ll be all alone, wondering where everyone is, all sad and scared… Come on!”
“But I can’t see him anywhere. He could be several blocks away by now.”
“Ah!” Pinkie covered her ears and shook her head. “Everything’s going wrong! I messed up Cranky and Matilda’s special week, we’re splitting up, Spike’s gone missing! EVERYTHING! STOP GOING WRONG!”
“Messed up? You didn’t mess up anything. They’re probably having a wonderful time together.” Fluttershy prodded her on the shoulder. “Maybe we should find Twilight instead? We could tell her where we saw him, and I’ll bet she can track him down faster than we can.”
“You think?” Pinkie wiped her muzzle with the back of her forelimb. “Well… if I know Twilight, she’s probably at a library.”
“That’s good.”
“Or at a museum. Or at a gallery.”
“That’s… not as good.”
“Or anywhere in the city! There must be hundreds of places she’d want to visit!”
“That’s kinda bad.”
“Wait!” Pinkie massaged her temples. “I’m getting an idea…”
“Ooh, that’s great! What is it?”
“Why don’t we… ask everyone and anyone in the city where she is? Someone’s bound to know where we could find her!”
“And that’s very, very bad.” Fluttershy coughed into her hoof. She wasn’t sure she liked Pinkie in this mood. Sure, the mare could quick-draw emotions and jump from downside to upside, but so far she just seemed to be sinking lower and lower. Even Pinkie’s back bent low.
This is all just awful. If only I could find a way of cheering her up. But she’s right. Spike shouldn’t be left out here all on his own. Could there be someone who could look out for him? When little fillies get lost, there’s usually somewhere they can wait safely until their parents come find them. Some kind of security, or a royal guard.
Immediately, Fluttershy rose higher. Barely had she cleared a few yards when she spotted a blue shape moving through the crowd. One blue uniform, with a pale face over it.
Didn’t Twilight mention something about a Watch in the city? That must be one of the Watch Ponies now. If I could tell her, I could get the whole Watch to keep an eye out for him. Twilight said they were very competent.
Lowering herself back to Pinkie’s level, she heard her friend say, “And then I’ll get some balloons and float over the rooftops, and then I’m bound to spot him that way!”
“Uh…” Fluttershy’s ear twitched; another crash rose from the pit. “How about we ask that Watch Pony over there?”
Pinkie blinked away whatever nightmare had squeezed her face. “Huh?”
“Then the whole Watch could keep eyes and ears out for him. We could tell her to send him… Oh, I don’t know…”
“That’s it!” Pinkie almost head-butted her leaping back onto all fours. “She could send him to the Café! Everyone’ll be there! Fluttershy, you’re a genius!”
Suddenly, the next crash broke off and squealing, screaming pain drilled into their ears. Pinkie winced and yelped in shock. Fluttershy rounded on the pit at once.
Another fight stopped. However, when the male tried scuttling away, the female grabbed his tail and raised a pincer. Blows scuffed his rear armour. He squealed, screamed, wiggled trying to break free, and scuttled feebly with his legs half-raised off the ground by her yanking. A mere tug pulled him into range for more blows.
Without thought, without hesitation, without anything but a rising roaring rampage of outrage, Fluttershy was in the pit. Once her vision focused, the surprised face of the Scorpony loomed before her.
“How dare you!” she yelled; the Scorpony let go at once, and the victim scuttled out of sight. “What on earth were you thinking, picking on your fellow Scorpony like that? Fighting is one thing, that’s your way of doing things, I understand, but bullying is something else! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”
Surprise closed in, giving way to an angry glower. The female Scorpony raised her pincers.
“Fluttershy!” cried Pinkie, voice echoing in the pit. “What, are you crazy? Get outta there!”
“Now look, I don’t know what your disagreement was, and I don’t care. Nothing gives you the right to hurt him when he was clearly leaving. If you’re frustrated, there are ways we can help, but don’t you go hurting other creatures!”
The reply was a roar that echoed back up the slopes and around her ears and whipped her mane about her face before it settled down.
The Scorpony blinked. Presumably, it was wondering why she hadn’t backed away yet. But years and years of staring down creatures ten times her size had immunized Fluttershy to the loudest of roars, and this wasn’t even a squeak compared with the stomach-churning, face-stretching, whirlwind-inducing bellows she’d faced throughout her career.
It whimpered.
“Yes, very scary,” said Fluttershy. Feeling she was looming too much, she lowered herself to its eye level. “Come on. Behave yourself like a good Scorpony, and no one has to do anything they’ll regret. You’re going to be courteous and civil, is that understood?”
It wrung its pincers together. Sweat glistened on its forehead.
“I said: is that understood?”
Finally, and looking as though it wanted to crawl into a hole and bury itself, it nodded.
“Good girl. Now let’s enjoy the sunshine and we’ll say no more about it. How does that sound?”
Overhead, Pinkie gasped. Four hooves landed behind Fluttershy. She heard groaning Scorponies scurry in a hurry to get out of the way.
“Ahem,” said a voice.
Fluttershy spun around.
Standing in the midst of a rapidly expanding space, totally uninterested in the hasty Scorponies trying to crowd the margins, a lone pony glared at her. One blue uniform clung tightly to its legs and flanks. All four hooves ended in dark, glove-like wrappings that allowed only a peek of the white underneath. Stiff and straight was the order of the day. Even hovering, Fluttershy felt dwarfed.
Fluttershy’s gaze travelled upwards hopefully. No such luck; a pale face, half-shadowed and leaning forwards, was dominated by two eyes like Bunsen burner flames. One blue headband accentuated the scowl. Blonde locks clung tight to the skull; only a simple ponytail protruded from the back, though “fox’s tail” would’ve described it better.
The Watch Pony stepped forwards. Even her steps reminded Fluttershy of the Royal Guard on parade, if the Royal Guard had been so cold and unfriendly that the air around them chilled.
“This is a restricted area,” said the Watch Pony; her tone was a scimitar under Fluttershy’s throat. It had all the warmth of an icicle.
Scorponies watched the newcomer cross the pit. One or two lost their nerve and tried to clamber out.
“Uh…” Fluttershy saw Pinkie Pie leaning on the rails and gaping down. “I’m sorry, uh, officer. I was trying to stop a fight. Uh…”
“Trespassing in the pit is forbidden,” continued the Watch Pony. “Violating this rule leaves you liable for prosecution and could result in a hefty fine.”
Chills crept down Fluttershy’s spine. Something was off about the mare. Certainly, no ordinary pony could scatter an entire colony of Scorponies this easily.
“I’m sorry.” She threw a sacrificial grin. “I-I was just, uh, leaving.”
The Watch Pony, if anything, narrowed her eyes to blue slits; they were almost black. “Good. The rules are there for your protection. In the meantime, I suggest you do leave. Immediately.”
Fluttershy didn’t wait. Two seconds later, she was over the rails with Pinkie Pie. Frantic stings of breath caught up with her. She doubled over panting, and didn’t protest when Pinkie’s hoof patted her saddle.
“Wow, she was creepy.” Pinkie rubbed her until she stopped panting. “What a meanie-pants! You were only trying to help.”
“How… How did she… get down there? She didn’t… look like a… like a pegasus…”
“She jumped.”
Fluttershy chewed over this statement. That’s got to be four storeys at least. “Jumped?”
“Yeah. She saw you take a dive, then she walked over and jumped.”
“Pinkie, she’d break something.”
“Well, that’s what she did. Come on. This place isn’t as fun as I thought it was. Let’s go find Spike together!”
But what about that Watch Pony? How’s she getting back out? Shouldn’t we tell someone? Fluttershy peered over the edge, looking for a cave entrance or for a rope, or something, anything. As before, Scorponies scattered about at random.
The Watch Pony was gone.
“Flutters!” Pinkie called. “Come on! A friend in need is a friend indeed, right?”
“Uh…” Fluttershy scanned the segmented backs. She couldn’t have just left. There’s no way…
“FLUTTERSHY!”
With a sigh, she abandoned the enquiry and hoped it would all work itself out if she left it alone. It wasn’t her business. She’d stopped a fight. She’d avoided trouble. She needed to find Spike. The world was a lot simpler when she stopped looking for ways to complicate it.
“Wait! I’m coming!” With a final saddened glance at the Scorponies, she flapped up and drifted after the bouncing of her friend among the crowds.