Tales of an Equestrian Mare

by Durandal

Chapter 4

Standing on the small dock outside Swift’s berth, her pouch a few coins lighter, Hearthfire began to get a sense of the true absurdity of Whinnycia. It was not simply an island city, or even a just a city of waterways. The wooden boards of the dock beneath her hooves swayed, almost imperceptibly. Looking up and across, the buildings on the far side of the street were also moving, slightly out of synch with the dock, their rocking motion exaggerated by their height such that, if she focused, she could just make out the metronome tick-tick-tick as they swayed back and forth. The moniker of ‘Floating City’ was no mere hyperbole; the entire city was constructed on a mind-boggling array of rafts, pontoons, and barges, ingeniously lashed together and secured in a vast network that formed the apparent whole of the city. It was a fascinating and slightly nauseating sensation, even for a pony who had no trouble with turbulence, or the ordinary motion of the sea.

Finding a gondolier willing to accept Equestrian bits turned out not to be as difficult as Hearthfire had feared, and in short order, she and Cas were being expertly rowed down the aquatic highways and byways of the city.

“Would ma’am like the tour, or is there some place specific she needs to go?” the oarspony had asked as she stepped gingerly into the long, slim boat. She had immediately felt like she might capsize it at any moment, and resolved to sit very still during the trip; it was hardly surprising that she had been immediately marked as a visitor to the city. Equally unsurprising was how entirely unphased Cas was as she trotted to the prow and took up a lookout’s post at the front of the gondola. Hearthfire swore the cat would adapt to anything in under five minutes.

“No tour today, thank you. I need to find a place to stay, first.” The oarspony had shrugged, and pushed them away from the wooden jetty and out into the still waters of the canal.

A modestly priced inn wasn’t difficult to find. The establishment Hearthfire chose was clean and relatively plain, and fronted onto the main waterway leading to the heart of the city. It was three stories high, a slender building with an elegant plaster facade in white and pastel pink. She had initially asked the proprietor for a room on the ground floor, or at least what would have been the ground floor if there were any ground in Whinnycia, with her mind on the potentially unpleasant rocking motion that being higher up might entail. He had assured her that his building was very stable, the most stable on the whole street, and besides, on the ground floor, there was no peace and quiet. ‘The waterways,’ he had intoned, like a mantra, ‘do not sleep.’

Hearthfire compromised, braving the second floor in exchange for the promise of a more restful environment, and with her luggage stashed inside her newly acquired room, Hearthfire set off to explore. She had decided to begin at the centre, and work her way out to the more out of the way areas of interest. Being that it was almost noon, and breakfast had been some time before dawn, one of Whinnycia’s two famous markets seemed the best place to start.

By navigating the narrow walkways and bridges that littered the sides of the canals as one approached the heart of the city, she might have been able to reach the larger of the two, the Council Market, situated in a broad plaza outside the city’s largest government building, where matters of state were decided, but she was far more curious about the second, the Water Market, and reaching that would require another boat ride.

* * *

The Water Market was a microcosm of the city. It was located in what would, in a drab, ordinary city, have been a public square, but Whinnycia being as it was, the public square could more accurately be described as a public lake.

The space was huge, and from water level it was impossible to see the buildings on the far side, completely obscured as they were by the tangle of boats that were jammed into what seemed like every last inch. Vendors hawked their wares from a huge variety of different shapes of vessels: gondoliers picking up a few extra coins selling this and that straight from the bottom of their flat-bottomed ferries; fishermen displaying baskets wriggling with the day’s catch; purpose-built floating stalls with folding display counters selling anything you could imagine, from trinkets and baubles to woven baskets and furniture, herbs, spices, clothes or fabrics, and more things than Hearthfire could recognise. The air was a cacophony of shouts and entreatments, the creak of ropes, and the spit and sizzle of hotplates as delicacies from hundreds of different nations were prepared for waiting customers.

Hearthfire’s oarspony navigated the veritable scrum through a combination of seasoned experience, blind luck, and the stubborn-headedness to occasionally ram any boat that refused to get out of the way fast enough. There was rarely enough room for the pony to deploy his paddle, and instead most of the propulsion was provided by the simple expedient of bracing himself against a nearby obstacle and pushing. Hearthfire was beginning to acclimatise and learn that the gondolas were not nearly as unstable as they looked, but the constant marine jostling still set her heart racing on more than one occasion.

They had hardly gone ten lengths of the gondola into the scrum before Hearthfire spotted to first of them: what she initially took to be the head and mane of a pony swimming in the water popped suddenly into view, just to one side of the boat. It looked around as if getting its bearings, then seemed to catch her eye. It winked at her, and dived. It wasn’t for another moment that she realised what she had just seen.

Now she was aware that they were around, she could see that there were sea ponies everywhere. They bobbed to the surface next to stalls, their crest-like manes trailing water, and called for the vendor’s attention by banging on the hulls of the boats with their flippers. Coins were passed from flipper to hoof, goods were passed down, and the ponies would dive once more in a spray of water and a flash of prehensile, rudder-like tails.

“Looking for something in particular, miss?” the oarspony called, jerking Hearthfire out of her daze.

“Oh. Something to eat, please. Do you know the market well? Where would you recommend?”

“Know it? I practically grew up here! Let’s see...”

They navigated deeper into the market, the gondolier pointing out stalls and describing the kinds of food they served as they passed. Seafood of every kind featured heavily on the available menus, and although she resolved to see everything that was on offer, it wasn’t long before her traitorous stomach had furnished her with a sturdy paper box containing a black cuttlefish risotto, a cob of sweetbread, and two grilled eels, one for herself and one for Cas. As the gondola pushed away from the smiling food vendor, she tossed the eel to Cas, who caught it with ease and pinned it to the boat’s wooden boards to begin gnawing.

“Careful, it might still have bones in it,” Hearthfire warned, as she settled down for her own meal. She lifted the fresh-baked bread to her mouth -

There was a shout of alarm from somewhere behind her, before cat, lunch, and ponies flew briefly through the air to crash into the water in a plume of spray, as a second boat struck the gondola amidships. The gondola rolled under the impact.

Hearthfire surfaced, spitting out water and flailing wildly. Pieces of her anticipated cuttlefish risotto floated around her, but it was Cas she was looking for. She needn’t have worried; the cat, while soaked, had already managed to clamber onto the upturned hull, and was shaking herself off. The gondolier had grabbed onto a nearby stall, and was climbing out with the assistance of the owner.

“Here.”

Somepony thrust an oar towards her, and she snatched onto it with one limb. The boat rocked as she was hauled out of the water, dripping, to stand shivering. The air didn’t seem cold until you were dunked in the chill of the canal, but now, she could definitely feel it.

Taking stock of her surroundings, she became loosely aware that her rescuer was, if she was any judge, an attractive earth pony colt, well built and well toned by hard work; the deep ruby red of his coat was well offset by a naturally curled chestnut mane. He bent his legs in a well-practised bow.

“Please. Allow me to offer my services, m’lady,” he began, in utter deadpan seriousness. It was all Hearthfire could do no to burst out laughing; here she stood, with cold water soaking her to her skin, and some local noble had the nerve to patronise...

“I’m all right,” she managed, when she had regained control, “A little water never hurt anypony. Cas! Come on over here!”

“All the same, I can’t help but feel a little responsible...”

She was on another gondola, larger and more lavish than the one she had just so unceremoniously left. There was a covered portion - a felze, wasn’t it? - to protect passengers from inclement weather, and the oarspony was sporting an expensive-looking uniform. Some local nobel?

“I’m quite allright. No harm done save for the loss of my lunch. It was just an accident.”

“Well, that’s easy enough to fix,” he offered with an easy smile, “Would you care to join me?”