The curs began whining louder as we finally bushwhacked through the last of that magic-reeking forest and came into sight of the pony town. Though I suppose they had their reasons, Boomer wouldn’t like it, and besides, their racket irritated me. I gave the nearest a clout to the ear to silence him.
It didn’t work.
“Please, Hound Rascal,” the one called Rover begged me, “you are a good Diamond Dog, not a bad one like us! You keep your word! Do not do this to us!”
“You remember what your leader said,” the tiny one, Spot, chimed in. “If we helped you good dogs and told what we know and guided you through pony lands, we would be let back into the pack. We have done all this! Let us go!”
The third prisoner just trudged on quietly with his giant shoulders slumped.
Smart dog, that Fido.
The other two got punished. All I have to do is tap the jewels on my bracer and the gilded iron obedience collars with the matching stones get tighter, or heat up, or do all sorts of other interesting things. The teeth-marks on the bracer from last night are still there, but I don’t think that wolf did any permanent damage.
This time I chose a brief electric shock. While the two fools were busy convulsing in the dirt of the road, I felt a shadow fall over me. I looked up, and who was it but the big dog himself, Very Good Hound Boomer, chief (and only) diplomat of Diamondia and leader of this whole stinking tail-chase.
“What seems to be the problem with these dogs, Hound Rascal?” he says, as if he didn’t know.
Of course, I strike a subservient pose, expecting to get chewed out over how my correctional methods are slowing down the march. “Nothing worth concerning yourself over, chief,” I tell him. “These curs were criticizing your hospitality; I just thought I’d tell them to mind their manners.”
Still twitching a bit, the red-vested one looked up at Boomer with pleading eyes. “You promised us… you said we would rejoin the kingdom pack.”
The boss looked down at him and smiled cheerfully with those huge blue eyes of his. “Indeed. And you have.”
All three prisoners looked confused. So did I, I suppose.
“With the jailor? The obedience collars?” Spot whined, rolling back onto his belly. “Pack members aren’t treated like this. You are mocking us!”
“Not at all, friend,” said Boomer. “Say the word and this good hound will let you go.”
He nodded briskly to me, and I slowly nodded back. What was he up to?
“Of course,” Boomer added, before the prisoners could open their yaps to speak, “You’d be alone, without the rest of your exile pack. They’ve chosen to stay with us.” He snapped his nails as if another thought had just occurred to him. “Oh, and the kingdom wouldn’t know about our agreement either. We can’t afford to send someone else back with you to vouch. To them, you’ll still be a bunch of outcasts who gave away cartloads of the Alphas’ gems to a herd of little ponies just to save your own hides.” He shook his head. “Hm. That might not go over too well.”
My new pack-mates glanced at each other. “Let them keep their kingdom!” Spot said. “Even going off into the wilderness would be better than being dragged around by these mean dogs.”
The other two nodded.
Boomer reached down, pulled the smaller dog gently onto his feet and pointlessly brushed some dust off of the cur’s filthy black vest. “You would pass up this great opportunity so easily, good brother dog?” he asked, still smiling.
Fido, the hulking, hunchbacked one, broke his silence at last. “O-opportunity? What do you mean?”
“I mean, you have the opportunity to return to the pack, not merely as pardoned exiles, but as heroes! Saviors of the kingdom!”
Rover narrowed his already-squinty eyes. “But the other dogs, they said you were going to give us to the ponies as captives. You said the one we grabbed way back then is friends with their new giant! How will we get anything rotting in pony prison?”
The boss laughed, as if this wasn’t exactly what we intended to happen. “Brother dogs, honestly! Have you ever known ponies to be vindictive? Do they even have prisons, much less ones that could hold a stone-breaking, bone-eating Diamond Dog? Offering you to their justice is merely a polite gesture, a way of showing our goodwill! Then they will see how sorry and bedraggled you are, and they’ll show their goodwill by letting you off the hook and then we all get down to business.” He pointed to me. “Good Hound Rascal here was merely ensuring that you three would play your parts to the best of your ability. He has your best interests at heart.”
The little one looked at me and cocked his head. “Oh, I… I guess that makes sense?”
“But when we return, we will be heroes?” Rover said, looking so hopeful I wanted to slug him again.
Boomer turned to go back to the front of the column. “You three are vital to this whole expedition,” he called over his shoulder. “Play your parts, look sorry, and don’t make Rascal have to ‘help’ too much, and I wouldn’t rule out elevation to hound-hood for all three of you!”
The three idiots looked at each other, gaping. “Did you hear, Fido?” Spot squeaked. “Us, hounds!”
“We will do it! Watch what good bad dogs we can be!” Rover shouted after Boomer.
Well, that sure wasn’t the way I would have handled it, but I can’t argue with results. Guess that’s the reason Boomer’s the diplomat and I’m tending kennel for these curs.
Then again, Boomer doesn’t know everything. That soon became apparent when we reached their town.