After my second teleport, I collapsed on the table, chin on my knees, more drained than I had been having soaked an hour in a hot bath last night. Sadly, I knocked over my unfinished cocoa, which flowed beyond my muzzle off the edge of the table and dripped loudly on the cement. I reached out with my tongue. That's all I had the energy to do for awhile...
She revived quickly. I explained my problem from were I lay and we ended up talking past sunset, until a lamplighter came by to dispel the darkness to which we were oblivious. You know. Unicorns. Illuminate.
She said, "I know a great place for spaghetti." We walked into town, lost in conversation.
When I recognized it was so dark that the stars twinkled above, I sighed.
"What?" she asked.
"There's a curfew at the, uh, boarding house. I'm looking for an apartment, but haven't found anything. I'm, um—" Freelancing? "I'm paid well. I can afford comfortable accommodations."
"You have a patrician accent when you stop acting like a street urchin. Oh!"
She stopped and I walked past her, looking back. "'Oh', what?"
"I saw a sign for a second floor flat. Probably too pricey..." I saw her eyes open wider; she probably recalled the gold and silver bits that rolled out of my saddlebags earlier. "Or not."
"I did want to get out of Baltimare."
"Come on."
She galloped off in another direction.
The old grey mare with a white mane stopped with the key in the door at the top of the stairs. She'd seemed jovial, especially happy to see Broomhill Dare who she knew from the library down the block. She sobered as she spoke.
"I have to tell you. The young stallion who lived here died."
"He died?" I prompted. Young and died rarely appeared in the same sentence.
"Yes. Nice colt, wiry if a bit clumsy, which half explains it."
I looked at my companion, then back into the mare's brown eyes.
She said, "He fell off a building."
"That's odd."
"I heard he drank a lot of cider and decided he was a pegasus. I'd understand if you—"
"Not a problem," I said, probably more to impress Broomhill Dare than myself. I didn't think I believed in ghosts.
Inside, flat really described it. One big long room with a tiny bathroom that barely fit a slipper tub. A closet-sized efficiency kitchen huddled against the far wall, with an avocado green icebox and a tiny but matching single-burner stove. Half the walls where floor-to-ceiling windows. The rest were whitewashed brick. The stained golden oak floor made the place resemble a dance studio. I'd definitely hang mirrors, but would need blackout curtains.
Boxes and furniture had been piled together near the front door. The poor dead stallion's stuff.
"This is perfect," I said.
"Mule Train's sister is coming next week. He's paid up until then."
"How much?"
She named a price and a deposit, then stopped. "Wait. You look a bit young."
I dumped my saddlebags for the second time. I gave the mare all my coins, save five silvers. I needed train fare, and probably money for food, and lodging if I was too tired to mess with Minty when I got back to the boarding house.
I signed the lease and the old mare filled her purse, me having prepaid six months rent.
"That happened," I said.
"Impulsive much?" Broomhill Dare asked.
That moment, the moon chose to rise over the roof tops, flooding the room with bluish light. It swamped my brightly glowing horn. The room looked solemn and inviting at the same time, as if ethereal ballerinas might begin prancing tails-up at any moment.
Broomhill Dare gasped and said, "Look!" She trotted over to a window and it became obvious the mullions were actually a door frame, and the window latch actually a handle. She opened it to a flat roof that had red square tiles a pony could walk on. As I stepped over the window frame, I spotted two green throw pillows soaked by last night's rain.
Her pink aura splashed the water out of a squat hoof desk that might serve as reclining dinner table as she said, "Makes you realize your stuff doesn't matter. When you're gone, your gone."
My stomach growled. The apples and cheese-stuffed rolls seemed like from yesterday.
She put her nose in the air and I also noticed the smell of spaghetti. My stomach piped up, convinced I smelled olives, peppers, and tomato sauce.
"That's from The Red Noodle. It's on the opposite end of your block. Let's get takeaway and celebrate your new life!"
Were I not almost in fight trim, I'd never had made it to the train station before the last Baltimare-bound train left Prancetown station. I had a full stomach but lots to think about, so I didn't sleep on the ride home. I hired a taxi for a silver bit to take me to the mansion.
As I walked up the driveway, Minty came to attention. As I walked up the steps, my horn aglow, she said, "Curfew—"
I teleported into the empty dining room with a bang. "Too tired," I said and covered my mouth as I yawned.
"Miss Gelding!"
Not Grimoire. Somepony knew my history. I turned to find an older stallion had spoken. His grey-streaked mane was up in a uniform bouffant wearing a red-trimmed black suit that matched his dark red coat. He walked toward me. Not a unicorn.
"I'm too tired for curfew nonsense," I said, hooves on the stairs. "Talk about it tomorrow."
"Steeple Chase wants to talk to you as soon as you arrive."
"And I want a sack of gold bits. Everypony is disappointed, sometime."
"Really Miss G—"
"It's just Gelding, and you really need to understand, sir, that's a verb."
The fellow swallowed visibly. He looked miserable. He'd just seen me teleport and had an impossible task.
"Fine! Go wake him up. He'd better be sleeping, or I will be sorely disappointed." I walked past him down the hall and he rushed past pressing against the wall to avoid me.
"Yes. Wait." He disappeared through a door and I heard voices. I was disappointed when a mare wasn't hustled out as I was ushered in.
I found a large suite that resembled the main study at Grim Having Mansion. The walls were carved dark wood planks and the ceiling patterned tin tiles. A flower-pattern plush rug-covered business-like masculine salt and pepper granite tiles. An imposing desk sat across from a picture window. Bookshelves held...
I walked up and read the spines. Royal Equestrian Code and parliamentary rules. Law books.
Bor-ing. Probably silly things the syndicate had to circumvent.
Beyond, two side-by-side doors opened to a darkened room with a four poster bed. The rumpled sheets were slightly reflective red satin.
Steeple Chase leaned back in a big red fabric chair. The Clydesdale stallion wore a red house robe like a cloak and easily out-massed me by double. Keeping with the red theme, his fur was bright red and his mane a coppery auburn. His fur and his mane stuck up in tufts, so maybe he had been asleep—or recently occupied with a mare. His eyes were amber. The burly fellow would have been imposing if he didn't look to be less than ten years older than me. As I found myself staring, I realized his youth might have been illusory because the square-jawed earth pony was certifiably model-level handsome, more so because his almost studiously disheveled state made him look like a bad colt.
Which, technically, professionally, he was.
My noticing that he was wearing only a house robe made my reaction to him suddenly worrisome. I thought of the mares and what Glory had told me—and realized it was all true. Next I would see hearts and roses framing him! I kicked myself and hopped around for a few seconds, holding my right rear leg to my stomach to break his enchantment.
Was it a spell?
No. He was handsome and knew how to use it to control a mare. I did not like being controlled. This helped me find my anger and scattered wits.
Narrowing my eyes, I stated, "You have an assignment for me."
"Miss Gelding—"
"Just... Gelding."
"I know, I know." He rolled his eyes. "It's a verb; a word, not an action."
"Assignment." I raised a hoof.
"You are making assumptions." He reached across the desk to his gold pen set, then stroked the stylus absently before he added, "You were assigned to this house for training purposes."
"Not what I was told. Recently, some ponies made some bad assumptions about me." I thought about the shoot-out that happened because a pony thought he could outwit me. "It did not end well."
He got out of his chair. His mass suddenly reminded me of The Monster. His movement caused his robe to slide off, which made that observation worse. He asked, "Are you threatening me?"
"I didn't have to lift a hoof last time." I walked to the desk, reared, and clunked down my horseshoes knowing I might scratch the mahogany. My posture brought me to eye level with him. "You know Cyclone Beaujangles? Trigger told me they sent him to attack me as a test. I wonder if he can walk, yet? I really hate being tested."
The C.A. executive actually grinned. Oh-colts, really?
Stupidly, I belatedly lit my horn by prepping a spell. Force. Doubly stupid.
He countered, "You do have a reputation, and you deliver in spades."
"I'll ask—" I was about to say again. My position had weakened. "Do you have an assignment for me? Or not?"
"Every mare in this house—"
"Not happening."
"Aren't you going to wait until I finish my proposal?"
I pursed my lips. I reached for the heavy pen set with a hoof. Like an earth pony, I rotated it around, then tossed it over by shoulder. It went bang. "Sure, go ahead."
"I see. There are rules in this house. Curfew. Eating meals together—"
"Sharing your bed."
He gestured outward with a hoof. "Did I say that?"
I growled.
Continuing to gesture, he added, "I do the testing. I decide who passes. I decide who gets assignments. I decide who gets promoted."
"Promoted?"
"I hear you think on your hooves and are unflappable. I'm beginning to wonder about the latter. That's why I have to test you. If you're good enough, I'll see you're promoted."
"To what?"
"Enforcer. You've got the skills."
"What, now?"
"When ponies refuse to do as told, or refuse to pay up, or come from a rival gang to steal from the syndicate—somepony has to discreetly step in despite impediments, for instance bodyguards, and, you know... cause some bruises, maybe break a bone or two—"
"I won't hurt ponies."
"Ha. That's a lie."
"I fight defense." He started to move around the desk. I glared at him, stopping him. "Unless attacked, or you wantme to fight you. Then it's copacetic."
"Big words for a formerly homeless filly."
Horse apples. Was I getting into the habit of confessing about my background? I continued to glare without blinking.
He sighed. "Okay, probably bodyguard would be a better fit. The job description should be obvious, even for you. That's my instructions, anyway."
"Protecting ponies. If attacked? From being attacked. So long as nopony tells me anything I really shouldn't know, I could do that."
He snorted.
"There's also my no-mule-rule. Applies to me being a bodyguard."
"You have... principles?" He smirked.
"And bodyguard pays better?"
"If you're good at it. Better than you were before."
I thought about my new flat. I thought of saving enough bits to attend Prancetown officially. I also though it might be a fun way to practice and hone my magic.
"Training?" I asked.
"That requires assignments."
"Which you decide?"
"That's right."
"I suggest you decide to give me assignments."
"There's the matter of the rules."
"My rules or your rules?"
"House rules." This time he walked around the desk. The sconces and down-lights threw shadows that highlighted muscles typical of workhorse ponies. He was... massive in many ways. A stallion. I noticed that and I gulped.
Propped up on the desk, my flank felt accessible and exposed.
I stepped down and backed toward the doorway until I knew my exact position in the room. My hide ticked and my muscles quivered. Jangling nerves kept me tripping up the Teleport equations, but I kept my Force prep. With him backlit, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, certain I would sense him if he charged me.
A took a second breath, but couldn't center myself.
I trained my patented glare on him, having to look up, forcing him into a staring contest as I warned him, "Don't think I can't beat you bloody if you attack."
He chuckled. "You think I'd be so stupid as to fight you alone?"
My peripheral vision caught shadows moving outside.
I reflexively shot out the main picture window with Force. Shards rebounded and peppered the big stallion, who whinnied loudly trying to protect his face with a foreleg. At the same time, since I cast the spell while turning my head, usually a bad idea, I left a hedge row of green flames across the lawn. I recognized Minty diving back toward the front porch and some other totally panicked purple pony galloping away toward the driveway. His hooves hit the cobbles running, throwing sparks. His retreating cadence was unmistakable, all the way out the gate and to the street.
By complete miracle, I'd missed hitting anypony from Steeple Chase to Minty.
The glass continued to tinkle on the granite as I dashed around the back of the desk. I'd inadvertently positioned myself well. I'd learned in the last year that many ponies tried to look muscular at the expense of general fitness. Lifting weights, but neglecting to run, skip rope, and pedal left many with no stamina. Somewhere Steeple Chase had a private weight room. I scrambled around the desk and greeted him as he retreated from the window, panicked by the flying glass.
"Hi!" I said, having transformed Force to Shield. He hit a glowing soft wall of blue-green between us and bounced back. I shoved my magic at him as I advanced until he had to step back or sit. On glass. "Lightning fast reflexes. Sorry about that."
He spoke unprintable horse apples.
"Language! There's a Lady in the house."
Luckily, he couldn't see I meant Lady to be capitalized. He sputtered as I pushed him back until his nicely squared-off flank loudly smacked the wall between the bookcase and the shattered window. Without the room lights in my eyes, I saw the entire lawn illuminated by the still flickering flames. It remained empty.
Of course, somepony could force the door, but I suspected nopony would. I heard nopony trying, at least.
"I guess I would make a good bodyguard."
I kept pushing, forcing him to rear up. I reared, too, but was still a head shorter than him. I pushed until the apparitional surface of my spell warped around his barrel, pushing his forelegs back and pinning them. The tips of my fore hooves struck the wood panel to either side of his truly massive ribcage—albeit, just barely—and made a satisfying click-clack. Barrel to barrel, I could feel his heart thudding against my chest.
What a satisfying feeling. Surely he could feel mine racing. I felt his every jagged breath and his fuzzy warmth.
A trained prizefighter would have known how to wriggle out of my magic hold, or how to stress the torsion nexus of my apparition to cause it to gutter and locally weaken at the greatest distance from my horn. An earth pony prizefighter would have tripped and pinned me two seconds ago. A pegasus would thrown me with her wings into the glass daggers still hanging in the window frame.
Not Steeple Chase.
"So," I asked, glancing outside briefly, "House rules or my rules?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
Inspiration made me nuzzle the stallion on his chest at the base of his neck, taking care to press against his major arteries. I felt his blood pulse and when he began to gulp.
Oooh! He smelled good; it had never occurred to me a stallion might smell good. He'd showered no more than an hour ago with oatmeal soap, but there was something more. Musk. I nibbled. Okay, I got a hair between my teeth, which wasn't what I imagined when I'd reflexively done that, but then a momentary vision of soaping another pony flashed into my mind. Had I done that with Sunburst? As little foals, we probably had! My imagination overlaid a grown Sunburst over...
I shook my head, then said, "Good. I want an assignment."
"Not happening."
I used my magic to pull him closer, then banged him against the wall. My magic couldn't hurt him this way, but did he know that? "Bad colt! You didn't understand me."
"I— I didn't?" he asked, tone changed.
"No. You see, I am not like all the other fillies, or anypony else associated with the Carne Asada Syndicate. Sure, I like my bits, my toys, my snacks. I have my agenda, but I don't really care that much for that stuff when it compromises my freedom. I gave it all up once; I'll do it again." I banged him once more.
"Okay," he said, not sounding particularly frightened. Fearing I'd missed something, I glanced outside, listening hard. The flames had gone out, and nopony had re-entered my field of vision. The door out of the suite remained closed. If somepony hid in the bedroom, my swiveling ears heard neither a bed spring nor a hoof on the granite floor. The stallion's legs quivered, but not tensing as if he were planning to batter me with a power move. I looked up into his amber eyes.
I asked, "Are you listening to me?"
He nodded vigorously.
Wait. I expected to see fear, or anger, or rebellion. This felt like... anticipation. I narrowed my eyes. "Do you like this?" I asked.
"I— Well—" His fur was red, but was his face coloring?
I rattled him once more. When his head bounced back down, I saw a flicker of shock metamorphose into an instant of barely hidden disappointment.
I'd misfired, startled the horse apples out of him, and pinned him to the wall. Despite that, I'd also told him I didn't hurt ponies except in defense or with permission. He'd read the reports on me; he'd known about Gelding, so he'd probably already known that, too. The thought made me want to really hurt the stallion, to make him actually fear me, but I could not.
I'd already lost.
His grin widened. I was almost certain I intuited his thought process. I hoped I did, because if he thought it was fun to be held helpless by me, well... I just didn't get those horse apples.
I had choices. Give up and do as told, including staying the night. I could also just count it all as lessons learned, disappear, and restart my life somewhere else. Maybe Dodge Junction?
I really liked the idea of saving to attend Prancetown. I liked my new flat, being called Pidgy, having someone intelligent to talk magic with, and pretending sometimes to be normal and common.
Was Steeple Chase really that objectionable?
"Yes." I shouted my own answer into his face.
His grin went away.
I said, "Let's make a deal."
"What sort of deal?"
"You give me assignments, training, and a promotion to bodyguard."
"If you're good enough."
"When I'm ready, I concede that."
"And if I don't?"
"An asset I think Carne Asada might really like disappears on your watch, never to be seen again. I wonder. Do you get promotions? Bonuses? Or are new fillies all you get? Gosh, you might lose your job!"
"Your proposal sounds rather one-sided to me."
I stepped back, keeping the shield spell between us. I let him back onto all fours. He stepped on broken glass. It must have jabbed the frog of a hoof because he winced. "I think maybe you like getting beat up."
"I—"
I waved a hoof. "Too much information. Don't provoke me because I wouldn't find it fun, but I would protect myself."
"That sounds like a demand, also, not a deal."
"It is a demand. The deal: I won't spend a night with you—until after I get my promotion, and start the job." I stepped forward, warping my shield around his body such that the sparkles flashed and popped against his skin and disturbed the short red hairs on his chest. I sniffed him again, first his furry chest then reaching up around his flicking ears. My tail swished. I smelled some cider on his breath. "You actually smell pretty good. Not what I expected. I might learn something from letting you touch me. That's the deal."
He chuckled.
I shoved him, hard. He whinnied and stepped back. More glass crackled under his hooves. He didn't look that worried, but he wasn't laughing either.
"Dock my pay for the window. That was a misfire." I backed away from the door. I realized I had started to sweat at some point during the fight. From my experience at the gym, that meant I smelled horsey. I hoped he liked that. I'd read that many stallions did.
Nevertheless, I felt calmer near the exit. I dropped my shield spell and found I could spin up Teleport. Finally!
I turned to the door and looked over my flank. "And I am moving out next week. This is a hostile working environment."
"You can't—"
I lowered my head, revealing the whites under my eyes, giving him a predator eyes look. "I realize you are strange. Do I need to add stupid? Not becoming of a hunky stallion. I'm not taking the barest chance of baring stupid foals. Understand?" I refused to be more explicit, or more promising.
He replied, "Your rules." Not a question; a statement.
"That's a good colt."
I slammed the door behind me with a rear hoof. The older fellow saw my horn shining and wisely backed up and out of my way.
"I'm paying for the broken glass. My bad. Please apologize to the mint green mare for me, whatever her name is. My discussion with Steeple Chase got a bit overheated, that's all."
"I will."
"Thank you."
As I trotted upstairs, a couple of the other mares' door whooshed shut. I barred my door by levitating the wardrobe across it. I slept surprisingly well, vaguely remembering dreams where I pinned a big red stallion in some rather intriguing and compromising poses.
Color me confused.