• Published 1st Jul 2018
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Daring Do and the Hand of Doom - Unwhole Hole



Daring Do quests for a legendary artifact of unusual provenance...and unusual danger.

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Chapter 58: The Grandmaster of the Red Bloom

Through the darkness, Daring Do found herself sitting atop a throne. What it was built of she did not know, and could not know, as the substance had no name. Her mind called it “bone”, but that was a vast oversimplification, as if the term “iron” had been used to describe the detritus that remained when civilizations had long since moved on to decayed obscurity.

She sat. Waiting. Slowly tapping her finger, the metal of the tip resounding of whatever her throne was built of. Time passed. Years innumerable, perhaps, but that hardly mattered. What time passed here was infinitesimal to the not-sleep in the void beyond nothingness.

A face arose to her. Young, naïve, but already growing cruel and vicious. A being ruled by ambition and sadism, and hatred of those who might have understood what he could not. Daring Do stood and reached out her with her hand and touched just below the smallest of his three horns. His mind shattered instantly, and he turned away- -to spatter the walls with thick silver fluid in a scene of unimaginable violence. A scene that Daring Do found endlessly hilarious.

Only a small time passed before Daring Do felt another enter her vicinity. This time she did not reach out. Not yet. There was no need to, as its presence was familiar. Familiar but badly corrupted.

She pushed it to the periphery, choosing to wait.

And wait she did. For another infinitesimal fraction of time, a mere eon of her infinite, nebulous lifetime. More came. Many could not penetrate what the mages had built, or the final watcher. One did succeed, but there was nothing left of him when he finally arrived. Nothing but a shell of gears and aging metal. He crumbled like dust with the slightest touch.

None came for so long. The way had been lost. So Daring Do reached out farther. Such a small world, but one that had changed since the fiery ruins from which it had been born.

A pony stood before her. Young, his teal body thin but fit. Such a body was by definition weak- -but his mind held such interesting things, the germ of creations and methods that would not exist for so very long. Daring Do did not simply touch him, but grasped him hard by the neck, leaving a handprint that would not fade from him or from the genomes of the bloodline that he would so desperately attempt to preserve.

Then something interesting arrived. Ones that were immune. They were small, but they could not be reached, no matter how hard Daring Do tried. They were either too foolish, to simple, or two hardheaded to respond in any meaningful way. Beings that had, like Daring Do, watched the extinction of their race- -but only because they chose that path rather than the alternative. They could not be infected, and this was something Daring Do had never seen before.

They built things. Things of unbelievable, barely comprehensible simplicity, things so primitive that Daring Do could scarcely consider them machines or magic of any sort. Yet they were effective, and once again Daring Do went to sleep- -but not forever. Half awake, she began to reach out through the holes. To leak into the world at large. To call forth any seeds she had planted that might remain, and to find new ones to grasp. To make the world a better place.

Then Daring Do saw herself standing in front of her. She reached down and gently stroked the Pegasus pony’s mane. It was soft, and her hand moved lower, through her wings. The pony shivered, and Daring Do smiled, because her escape had been guaranteed.

She awoke with a weak cry. Gasping, Daring Do leaned forward, terrified not because of where she was- -she knew where she was, with incredible and horrifying familiarity- -but because she could almost remember a horrific dream.

Yet, to her continuing horror, she realized that she could still feel the touch of something on her wings. She turned back sharply to see a pair of white, red-eyed Pegasi carefully preening her wings.

“GAH!” she cried, blushing. “GET OFF!”

She swung wildly at them, but they simply rose into the air and fluttered off. Daring Do glared at them as they did, although she realized that for the first time in a long time, her wings were neat and clean.

They were not the only things that had been cleaned. To her great surprise, Daring Do found that her shirt was now clean and pressed, and that her hair smelled fresh and had been brushed. She had not actually bathed since Singapone, and she had not realized how filthy she had been until she had found herself overwhelmingly clean and fresh.

“What the…?” She looked up across the room. She was still in the central room of the Necroforge. The power-armored Pegasi were in the process of setting up formerly collapsed equipment around the center, all while Solum Finis looked on with mild but unbending amusement.

Daring Do herself was sitting at a table. Where it had come from, she had no idea, but the streaks in the wood suggested it had come a long way through an especially powerful portal. The table itself was of little concern, though; rather, Daring Do was far more interested in who was sitting at it.

“Caballeron!”

Caballeron looked up at her, peering over a large calico cat on the table before him. A cat with dull blue-green eyes. Caballeron looked away. “Daring Do.”

His tone was strange and stilted. He was not laughing or gloating. In fact, he almost seemed to be sweating. While it was true that they were not ten yards from vats of boiling metal, Daring Do sensed something else. Sensed that he was afraid.

Caballeron was not alone. Sitting slightly behind him was a pony clad in gold. She had removed her helmet to reveal that she looked astoundingly similar to Dulcimer, apart from a black streak in her mane and one ruined, blank eye. This unicorn swiftly lifted a sugar cube from one of her supply bandoleers and began to melt and caramelize it in her magic.

“You,” growled Daring Do.

“Yes. Me.” The mare popped the caramelized sugar into her mouth, pausing to savor it. There was no change in her one orange eye to indicate a sudden rush; her tolerance must have been incredibly high.

“You tied me to a chair and had your soldiers preen me. You’re sick.”

“One: you have no idea how long it took me to train them to do that. Even if half of it is on instinct. Second: you’re not tied to anything. Take a closer look, serf.”

Daring Do looked down and found to her unmeasurable surprise that she was, in fact, not bound. She was just sitting in an oddly comfortable chair.

“Wh…what?”

“You should really tie her up,” grumbled Caballeron.

“Oh, there’s no need for that.”

They all looked up to see Dulcimer arriving. He was no longer dressed in power-armor, but rather a different sort of semi-armored garment. It actually did not look too much unlike the light armor that White had originally worn, although it was more ornate and still contained a cape. The effect was quite knightly, and had Daring Do been under any other set of situations- -namely, being tied properly- -she might have imagined that the pony wearing the armor was distinctly attractive.

Dulcimer took the seat across from Daring Do and smiled. “Your wings,” he said. “They were disheveled. It’s apparent that you have late-stage osteoarthritis, and probably a significant amount of internal scarring. You can’t even preen yourself, can you?”

Daring Do glared at him, and then found her eyes turning sharply to Caballeron. He did not smile, but looked away, embarrassed.

“No,” she said, deciding to be completely honest. “I can’t.”

“I see,” sighed Dulcimer. “Then you probably only have a few years left. Five at most. More likely three.”

“Until what?” asked Caballeron.

“Until she can’t fly.”

Caballeron fell silent. He managed to summon a laugh, but it came out soft and stifled. “So, my dear,” he said. “You are far older than your appearance betrays.”

“Yes,” said the female Questlord, “but you seem to have a preference for older mares, don’t you?”

Caballeron blushed and lowered his head in shame. Daring Do blushed a bit too, but probably for a different reason. To distract herself, she decided to face Dulcimer instead. He stared back, smiling pleasantly.

“You used me.”

“I did. But I never lied to you.”

“Like heck you didn’t.”

Dulcimer almost looked hurt. Almost. He leaned back. “When? My name really is Dulcimer, you know. Dulcimer Heartstrings. And I was, at one time, an academic. A scribe, specifically. Would you believe that my focus was originally on noting heraldic songs from the Questlord bloodline?” His expression hardened. “I resent the fact that I was forced into the life of a soldier.”

Daring Do sighed. “I know what this is,” she said.

Dulcimer raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah. Because it happens every single time. This is the part where the villain explains his whole scheme and plan. And for the record? I’m usually tied up for it.”

Dulcimer laughed. It was an oddly pleasant sound. Behind him, his female counterpart- -Daring Do was sure they were related, but she did not know how- -remained violently expressionless.

“I see!” said Dulcimer. “Firstly, of course, I see no need to do something so unfitting. Especially after I cleaned your clothes and had your wings preened. But if you will notice?” He pointed upward. Daring Do looked, and saw the glint of silver in one of the upper galleries.

“You would not get very far,” he said. “And I am quite aware of the fact that you cannot injure any of us. Except perhaps him.” He pointed at Caballeron. “And he, like all of his associates, is quite expendable.”

“Meaning I’m expendable too.”

A quizzical look crossed Dulcimer’s face. “Yes. I suppose you are.”

“Then why bother telling me anything? Or is it just to gloat?”

“No. I suppose that would normally be the earth-horse’s job.” Once again he pointed at Caballeron. “But seeing as he is operating in the role of employee at the moment, I don’t think he has the right to.”

“But then why bother doing it at all?”

Dulcimer looked confused. “Because, while it may not be apparent, I do feel bad. For tricking you. I actually have some level of admiration for you. I’ve read all your books. They reminded me of what it felt like to be a colt. I have not been a colt for a long, long time.”

“So you trick me and then want to apologize for it, all because of nostalgia?”

“No,” he snapped. “Because the action though necessary was not chivalrous. And I want you to know that, although by a circuitous route, you are greatly benefiting the good of Equestria.”

“I’ve heard conflicting opinions on that. Caballeron isn’t usually on the ‘good of Equestria’ side either.”

“This is a rare case where you were actually both working on the same side. Or at least were supposed to be, even if you were not permitted to know it. And I would take certain ‘dissenting opinions’ on my and our motives with a rather large grain of salt.”

Daring Do leaned forward. “It was a ploy,” she said. “You gave both me and Caballeron half of the one clue you had.”

“But why?” asked Caballeron. He sat up, the lines in his face growing deeper as his frown expanded. “I was more than capable of translating and locating the artifact! Why not give the whole of the diagram to me?”

“You who could not find the location on your own and who I needed to extricate from what would normally have been a lethal trap?” asked the female Questlord, smiling at him. “You’re a linguist, earth-pony. A cunning one perhaps, but you are good for little else.”

“We needed competition,” explained Dulcimer. “One of you on your own would never suffice. I’ve learned that much from the books. If you were to lead us to the Hand of Doom, you needed the proper motivation.”

“But why not do it yourself?”

“Look at what was required. Do you think I could have? Especially considering that, once again, I was not lying when I said I do not read Exmoori. I was a scribe of songs, and their language was already long-dead, even nine thousand years ago.”

“Nine…thousand?” Daring Do’s eyes narrowed, and she shook her head. “That’s not possible. No pony can live that long. Not even a unicorn?”

Dulcimer laughed softly but could not meet Daring Do’s eyes. “No,” he said, simply. “Immortality is well within the reach of every pony. Assuming you are willing to pay the price.”

“And what price would that be? Flock paid with his body. What did you pay?”

Dulcimer did not answer, and Daring Do realized that she would rather not know.

“But you gave me the whole of it,” said Caballeron, slowly. “The white one. The one that’s different from the others. She brought the rest of it. Why? Why then?”

“Because of unforeseen interference.” Dulcimer pointed across the room, to where Flock was still trapped, now both in his sphere of orange light and in a cage built around it. Dulcimer sighed and shook her head. “Daring Do, it seems, is far too trusting. She allied herself with an uncontrolled player in our little game. One whose victory would bring disastrous consequences to all of Equestria.”

“I couldn’t have gotten this far without him.”

“No. Which is why I insisted on allowing you to continue. My Grand Seneschal, though…her methods are more harsh. Clinical. It’s what makes her a good scientist but a poor warrior. In her mind the only way to deal with you was to eliminate you, rather than find a more creative solution.”

“Which is why you sent White.”

“Ugh,” said the female unicorn. “You gave the defective a name?”

“She is not ‘defective’,” snapped Daring Do. “She’s just a girl- -”

“Yes. A girl I created. And one I chose to eliminate.”

Daring Do stood up suddenly, slamming her hooves on the table. She saw the spells around the female’s horn shift, but also felt the glint of red eyes from high above watching her- -and she could feel their weapons pointing at her chest from the shadows.

“Ms. Do, please,” said Dulcimer. “Sit. Here.” He raised a hoof. A Pegasus appeared beside him, holding two cups of warm fluid. “Tea,” he said. He passed one to Daring Do, and the other to Caballeron. He took none for himself.

Caballeron looked into his carefully, and smelled it.

“Worried about poison, Doctor?” asked Dulcimer, still smiling.

“N- -no,” stammered Caballeron, defensively. “Of course not.”

“Of course not indeed. Poison is very cowardly. If I wanted you gone, I would look into your eyes while I did the deed.”

Caballeron gulped, and then took a sip of his tea. Daring Do did as well, finding that it was oddly pleasant, for tea. A slight metallic taste betrayed the fact that it was magic, though; the fluid in the cups was most likely just water with a powerful glamour. Despite knowing this, she took another sip- -but never took her eyes off Dulcimer.

“It’s impressive,” she said.

“The tea?”

“No. The act.”

“Ah. Yes. Well, I’ve had experience. And playing an academic is not hard for me.”

“No, not that. Right now. Smiling, being cheerful. Offering tea. Like you’re pretending to be a good, kind knight. But you’re not, are you? Underneath all of that, you’re no different from her.” She pointed at the female Questlord. “You’re just better at hiding it.”

Dulcimer’s expression fell, to the point where it actually became frightening. “How perceptive. Well. For the sake of honesty, then. Yes. I’ve had to do terrible things for my ideals. And I will continue to do so until my goals are realized. Perhaps I was nice and knightly once. But your society doesn’t exactly allow for that, does it?”

“Ideals. Goals. What are they?”

“The good of Equestria.”

“No, that’s a platitude.”

Dulcimer smiled. Softly, but sincerely. “I rarely have met a pony who realizes that.”

“So then what is your real goal?”

Dulcimer stood up. He took several steps, pacing, and then gestured to the room around them. “Tell me, Daring Do. This room. This device, this apparatus. It once all belonged to the Exmoori.” He turned to her. “But where are the Exmoori now?”

“You already know the answer to that. They’re extinct.”

“Yes, but why?”

Daring Do did not have a satisfactory answer, but it seemed that Dulcimer did not expect them.

“The answer is simple. Celestia came to them, as she did all the great races of ponies. I existed in the tail end of their history. The Exmoori were a proud race. Their civilization revolved around freedom, honor, self-reliance, courage- -and ancient traditions. Things that did not fit with Celestia’s vision of a perfect, harmonized Equestria.” He turned his cold orange eyes toward Daring Do and met hers. “So she systematically exterminated them. For the good of Equestria.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And yet you read the tablet. I saw, though your eyes. You know as well as I do that it was true.”

“So what?” asked Daring Do suddenly. “So your plan is to get revenge for an extinct race that you aren’t even part of?”

“Yes, but only incidentally. You see, the Exmoori were not the only ponies that Celestia needed to eliminate to create her vision of a kinder, gentler Equestria. My people also stood in her way.”

“The Questlords.”

Dulcimer nodded. “Our order is ancient. It predates her. By far. I predate her by far. It goes back so far that there would have been ponies among our founders who would have recognized what those statues in front of the Necroforge were meant to represent, and shuddered at their visage.”

He walked back to his chair and sat down. He was silent for a long moment before he started speaking again. “Ironically, we ourselves were dedicated to the good of Equestria too. But not the platitude. Not the half-empty, precarious world that Celestia offered. We showed our loyalty to our cause and ancestors by our deeds. Defeating foul monsters, defending against dark wizards, protecting the innocent and the weak. We were knights. We were knights…”

“You still are,” said Daring Do. “The Questlords still exist- -”

“Yes,” snapped Dulcimer, his eyes suddenly narrowing. “Oh yes. There are descendants. Diluted remnants of our bloodlines, some of whom still remember what we once were. And they sit in the shadows. Unwilling to step out, to risk themselves. They would rather wait until the Galactic Cry, until the return of the Witchlord before they act. They care little about the war we fought. That I fought.”

“Any war you fought is over. It has been over, for thousands of years.”

“And yet the visions don’t stop!” cried Dulcimer. “I don’t sleep! I haven’t in so, so long, but the dreams, I can still feel them! Of the faces of my mother, and father, and of my siblings…did you know that I was the third youngest of eighteen? Eighteen children! I was never meant for anything other than accumulating traditional song- -but I took the blood-mantle anyway. Because there was nopony else left to otherwise.”

He put his head in his hooves and sighed. “My friends. My comrades. Ponies I loved, dearly. We refused to bow to her. To disband at her order. Our heritage, our identity, our purpose…I try to tell myself that it was worth it. Sometimes I don’t know.”

“Tough.”

Dulcimer’s eyes shot upward. “Excuse me?”

“I’m really sorry about what you lost,” said Daring Do, slowly, “but you can’t change what happened. Nothing you can do will change it. If you really are as old as you say you are, you’re a relic yourself. A piece of history.”

“Something that you would put in a museum,” muttered Caballeron.

“Only because it’s something outside of the modern age.” Daring Do paused. “All of that…it’s like a relic in an old temple. It was once the most important thing in the world to somepony, but even if it’s still beautiful and proud, the temple is old. The ponies are gone. Whatever purpose it served, the world has moved on.”

Dulcimer’s eyes narrowed. “I never expected you to be such a fatalist.”

“She is not incorrect,” said the female Questlord.

“Says the pony who devoted her life and sacrificed two limbs to make this dream possible.”

“And what dream would that be?” asked Daring Do. “Are you going to try to blot out the sun like the Exmoori, or to use this thing as political leverage?”

Dulcimer stared at her. “You seem incredulous that I could do either.”

“Because you can’t.”

“Well. If you must know, I intend to do neither. Nothing so gauche or grand. I simply intend to win the war. To strike a final blow. To end Celestia’s tyranny.”

“By unleashing a doomsday weapon?”

“By doing what I have to do.” He sighed. “Celestia’s experiment is a failure. I’ve lived a long, long time. I’ve watched Equestria atrophying for centuries. Ponies were not meant to be ruled by immortal, unchanging gods.”

“I see. So it would be better to have a unicorn king, perhaps? A King Dulcimer the First?”

Dulcimer chuckled humorlessly. “No. I am certainly not fit for the position. I will not rule. Nor do I care who does. But the world needs new ideas. To move on, so to speak. Not to ossify and decay while alicorns decide the natures of our lives ‘for the good of Equestria’.”

“A world where the Questlords can persist,” added the female unicorn. “Where we can return to our former glory, and rally the remaining bloodlines around the Order of the Red Bloom.”

“So that’s it. You want to get your knights back. And you’re willing to put Equestria into chaos to do it.”

“Chaos?” Dulcimer stood up again. “I would be putting Equestria into a state of chaos? Really. Do you know how much was lost in the Nightmare War? I do. Because I was there. A spat about one precious goddess thinking she’s not appreciated. A childish tantrum. Where pony lives hang in the balance.”

“That isn’t- -”

“And there’s a certain hypocrisy to it all, isn’t there? That the gods preach a world ruled by peace, love, and harmony, and yet whenever there is any sort of deviation they cast all of that aside ‘for the good of Equestria’. The Exmoori, the Questlords. Nightmare moon, even, or perhaps Sombra, who they murdered twice? I find myself wondering, how long until the next bright sprig of growth deviates from their perfectly crafted society? Who will have to be destroyed then?”

“Nightmare Moon and Sombra were evil. You know that.”

“That is what you have been told, yes. But were they really destroyed because they were evil? Or was it because they challenged Celestia’s divine Vision?”

“Now you’re just being obtuse.”

“Were the Exmoori evil? Were my brothers and sisters? Am I?”

“You are,” said Daring Do, looking him in the eyes- -and slowly turning to his female counterpart. “If only for what you did to White.”

“Our end is pure,” said Dulcimer, calmly. “Certain means are required to justify it. I’m not proud of that.”

“Oh, the old ‘the ends justify the means’. Like this is the first time I’ve heard that one.”

“And it may not be the last. Regardless. I don’t mind if you disagree with me. Our lives were vastly different, so of course we’ll have different views of the world. My goal was never to convince you. Simply to explain why I am doing what I am doing.”

“And what is it exactly you’re doing?” She looked at the pulsating violet sphere in the center of the room. The one that, for the moment, still safely contained the Hand of Doom. “Let me guess. It’s vengeance, isn’t it? So you’re going to try to off Celestia.”

Caballeron inhaled sharply. He held his cat tightly. “Lord Knight,” he said, speaking the honorific as though his mouth were stuffed with manure. “I’ll admit that I’m willing to do just about anything for monetary gain. I pride myself in it, in fact. But slaying on of the Divine Alicorns- -that’s too far.”

Dulcimer turned slowly and Caballeron shrank from him. “Really.” He then laughed softly. “Not that you could stop me, could you? Alas, do not worry, servant-doctor. Even after all this time, I abhor violence. The Exmoori were warriors. I am not. I intend to resolve this peacefully in a way that none of the rest of the Red Bloom could have conceived.”

“I doubt that,” said Daring Do.

“As would I,” admitted Dulcimer. “Don’t get me wrong. She deserves it. And so much more. The one called Luna does as well, to a lesser extent, but at least she showed us kindness at least once. I should demand Celestia’s head. But instead, I’ll be content with her godhead alone.”

“Godhead?”

Dulcimer nodded, suddenly seeming excited that he was able to demonstrate his true plan. “Yes. That is what I intend to do. To use my own Necroforge to revoke the godhead of all alicorns. Celestia, Luna, Cadence, Twilight Sparkle, even little Flurry Heart. The effect will be instantaneous and painless. They will simply cease to be alicorns.”

“That…” Daring Do stopped herself. She was about to say that it did not sound especially evil at all- -but she knew that at its core, it was.

“Of course, Cadence, Twilight, and the child have not wronged me. Or anypony. They would perhaps make great rulers. But the existence of immortals cannot be permitted, lest one rise up and become a new Celestia.”

“But without their power- -”

“They would simply be another type of pony. A natural type. Unicorns, perhaps, but maybe Pegasi. Even earth-ponies. And I would of course not interfere with their power beyond that. They would continue out their rule for the rest of their natural-born lifespans. And then it would be passed on. To a line of rulers, some good, some bad, but rulers who can let the world progress in the way it is meant to.”

“And who will be more forgiving toward our Order,” noted the Grand Seneschal. “Ones that will allow us to conduct our operations without interference.”

Daring Do looked at them both. Then she smiled herself. “Well, then, who?”

Dulcimer blinked. “Excuse me?”

“All of this work. But who are you actually protecting? That is your purpose, isn’t it?”

Dulcimer stared back, and then smiled. “You won’t live long enough to know. Not because you will come to harm, I promise that, for now. But because you just aren’t capable of it.”

He stood up. “We’re done for now, I think. If you would be so kind as to excuse me, I have some final preparations to make. I will need your help in a little bit.” He looked at Caballeron. “Yours as well.” He then bowed to Daring Do, and nodded to the Grand Seneschal.

The female unicorn stood up. She approached the table. The cat hissed at her, but she ignored it. “The Grandmaster has extended his word that you will not be harmed,” she stated, “however, this predicates on you behaving reasonably, as I never made such a promise. Interfering with our work will be taken as an insult, and I will be within my chivalric rights demand compensation.”

“I’m not paying you,” said Caballeron, as if she had been speaking to him.”

She ran her hoof across the back of his neck, making him shiver. The cat on the table leapt up toward her, claws raised, but she suspended it harmlessly in magic. “I do not enjoy money. You’re compensation will be different from hers. Hers would be…more messy.”

“I will stop you,” said Daring Do.

“Attempt to do so and you will end. As will your friends. And my daughter, the one you insist on calling ‘White’. As a token of my resolve.” She removed an object from her belt and set it on the table. To Daring Do’s horror, she realized that it was an artificial eye. One of White’s.

“You horseson,” she swore, standing up.

“The warning has been given,” snapped the unicorn. “Do not attempt to interfere. Do not attempt to escape. We will complete our work, and you- -and your friends- -will be free.”

“And I will be paid?” asked Caballeron.

“No.”

The mare’s helmet reappeared around her head, projecting and assembling itself from the high collar of her armor. She then departed, dropping Caballeron’s cat on the table.

Daring Do watched her leave, and then turned slowly to Caballeron. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Believe me,” he said snidely, “I know exactly what I’ve done. And who they are. And what they’re capable of.”

“I don’t think they do.”

The cat turned to her. “They tore off my wings,” it said.

Daring Do grimaced, somewhat horrified. Surely the appendages did not have the same significance to changelings as they did to Pegasi- -but she quickly realized that she had no idea if that was even remotely true.

“Do you know what will happen if they get the Hand?”

“Of course I know. I won’t get paid.”

“That’s not what I mean, you idiot!”

Caballeron glared at her, and then stood up himself. “I don’t have control.”

“No. You’re just as trapped as I am. You’re just not willing to try to do anything about it.”

“No. I actually intend to survive this.”

He left. Daring Do stood up as well, folding her wings neatly behind her. They hurt, but admittedly felt better since they had been preened. Her jacket had been folded beneath her chair, but she did not put it on. The room was chilly for the most part, but hot near the metal coolant.

She began walking. It was an odd sensation, one that defied both reason and common knowledge. Under any normal circumstances, she would have been bound and perhaps left in a trap of some sort. Instead, she had been permitted to walk around freely while her enemies prepared to take the artifact that she was also after. Either the Questlords were too nice, or incredibly arrogant- -or, more terrifyingly, perhaps exactly as effective as they claimed to be.

Not that there were that many Questlords. Daring Do had come to the conclusion that only the two unicorns were actually Questlords, while the rest were more like ambivalent workers. Daring Do did not know how the Pegasi was controlled, if it was simply training, allegiance, a noble lie, or something more sinister. Not that it seemed to matter. They passed by her with ease, largely ignoring her as they performed their tasks.

At the same time, though, Daring Do could feel them watching her. From the ground and from the galleries above, always prepared should she attempt something foolish. And they were right. She would, eventually, attempt something extremely, profoundly foolish. She just needed time to think up what it would be.

While deciding, she made her way to where Flock had been contained. He was lying at the bottom of his sphere, and as she approached he turned to her. She was surprised to see that he looked distinctly equine. His eyes, though still yellow, were in a reasonable place, and he seemed to have teeth. Daring Do did not understand if the form he normally took was simply an aesthetic choice or if this was a side-effect of his containment. Nor did she especially care.

“Flock,” she said.

“What do you want? To gloat?”

“To gloat? About what?”

“That you’re on the outside and I’m trapped in here like a filthy animal.”

“Flock. I’m just as trapped as you are. I can’t get out of here either, or get to the Hand.”

“But your state is far more dignified than a feather-bearer deserves. They could have at least tied your wings together.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that,” muttered Daring Do.

“No you won’t. You’re clearly not good at your job. I almost had it. I was THIS close.” He put his front hooves a few centimeters apart. “And now I’m in a bubble.”

“And Sweetie Drops was almost beaten into a coma. Rainbow Dash is tied up somewhere. And they took White’s eyes.”

“I don’t care about any of that, they’re all expendable. Actually it was pretty funny watching the vedmak girl get beaten. But that’s not the point.” He looked through his bubble. “There isn’t much time. Those machines are measuring equipment and stabilizers. They’re going to open it soon. I have to get out.”

“Do you know a spell?”

“I can. Easily. Or could. If I had my DIAL.”

“Rainbow Dash still has it,” said Daring Do. Then a thought occurred to her. “Although…”

“Although what?”

“Is there any chance Rainbow Dash could use the dial?”

Flock stared at her aghast, and then shook his head vehemently. “No. No, not a chance. Using the device requires a grasp of mathematics and engineering far beyond anything that any ordinary pony would be able to comprehend, even for the simplest tasks. She’s an unevolved moron but even she’s not idiotic or reckless enough to attempt something so incredibly, unimaginably foolhardy.”

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