//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2 
// Story: Daring Do and the Race to the King's Treasure 
// by neilthenerd 
//------------------------------//

"Excuse me, sir."

The street musician glanced up, his face gaunt.  "Yeah?  Wha'da ya want?"  The old-fashioned guitar he was playing looked like it might fall apart at any moment.

"I hear that you have connections with the Warpaws," Daring Do said, nonchalantly.  "Do you know where I can find them?"

The pony diverted his gaze.  "I don't know nothin'."  He kicked a tin can toward her with a back hoof.  

Taking his hint, she dropped a few bits into the can.  He looked around nervously, and motioned for her to lean in close.

"Look, lady.  Them diamond dogs are trouble.  All they good for is cheatin' and druggin'."

"I'm fully aware that they are not model citizens.  But, I've got a little problem that only they can help me solve."

"Take it from somepony who knows," the musician stated, "even if ya can get the dogs' help, no problem is bigger than the hurt they'll give ya.  They'd stab their own ma over a piece of moldy ham."

Daring Do was undaunted.  "Your advice is duly noted and appreciated.  Take me to them."


* * *

As the musician and the archaeologist galloped through the city, the streets became darker and the buildings even more derelict.  The ponies that they passed seemed like shadows, winking in and out of existence in the corners and alleyways.  Her load of two heavy briefcases made their quick pace difficult, but Daring Do pressed forward. 

In the middle of a street lined with bars and disreputable shops, her guide stopped abruptly.  "The padrone, Old Scruff, he and I don't get along as well as we used to.  I'd rather my meat stay attached to my bones, so I can't take you no farther."

Daring nodded.  "So, which way do I go?"

"Down," he said, tapping a manhole cover with his hoof.  "Don't worry 'bout findin' 'em.  I bet they give ya a nice, warm welcome."

It took both of them to lift the heavy metal plate, but soon she was descending into the abyss on a rusted ladder.

"Good luck," he called after her as he lowered the briefcases down on a rope.  His voice reverberated through the tunnel.  "Ya'll need it."

This wasn't Daring Do's first time in a sewer, but the stench was still overpowering.  Grunting with the effort, the musician slid the cover back in place, sealing the mare in complete darkness.  She quickly pulled out a flashlight.  The flickering yellow beam revealed a thin sidewalk running alongside a river of bubbling waste.  Choosing to follow the flow of the current, she cautiously made her way forward.  With each step, her hooves oozed half an inch into muck.  

Her uneasiness grew with each minute that passed.  Where is this 'warm welcome' he was talking about?  Whatever that was, she hoped to be able to avoid it.  I definitely don't want the diamond dogs getting the advantage in this situation.  That could end badly.

Suddenly, a shiver ran up her spine.  Daring Do had the distinct feeling she was being watched.  Her ears perked.  The only noise was the sound of her own breathing.  

She turned her head in time to see beady yellow eyes and glistening, grinning fangs.  Reflexively, her wings flared and she jumped into the air, but a huge paw caught her by the tail and stuffed her into a scratchy burlap sack.  

"Pony thinks she is so sneaky," said a deep, gravely voice, whose owner sounded very pleased with himself.  "Stop wiggling like a little fish.  We won't kill you.  Master likes his meat fresh."