A Brief History of the Rom and Their Customs OR How Celestia and Luna Discovered the Rom of the Equestrian Roads
A Brief History of the Rom
Author's Note
Cover art by Alte Seele (Blog Inactive for over a year)
The tales of the Rom are a bit of an MLP based tribute to a truly amazing People.
THERE ARE SOME MAJOR DIFFERENCES. I am telling stories set in a world of talking Horses, pastel ponies and other intelligent beings.
I have done my best to fit them into MLP and my own canon while keeping to the spirit of some wonderful folks.
That said, I hope that you simply enjoy the tales because they are fun to read.
This tale takes place about 1500 years after the last Nightmare War. Luna has been back from the exile to the Moon for around 500 years.
Unicorn Supremacy is subtly rising and attempting once again to take over the land.
A Brief History of the Rom
A Brief History of the Rom and Their Customs
Or:
How Luna and Celestia Discovered the Rom of the Equestrian Roads
by
De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)
///////////////////////
Luna was leaning out over the balcony of her quarters in Canterlot Castle. She was straining to hear. There were strange, faint melodies arising from the Fairgrounds, far below, out on the plain below the Mountain of Canterlot.
As her ear picked out the unusual tune, her feet began to dance, almost of their own volition.
She turned back inside, her hooves sinking silently into the deep pile of the carpet. Her eyes lighted with pleasure at the unique voice of the music arising from the plains below.
She smiled. “I have had a a lovely thought, Bourbage,” she said to her Canterlot Court Officer of Protocols and Schedules.
In his somewhat dry voice, Bourbage replied, “Yes, Princess, and that is …?”
She exclaimed, “The Canterlot Fair, Bourbage! I am going to go down and play for a while! I will see for myself what our subjects do and enjoy these days!”
Looking down his nose at her, Bourbage stated, “Quite impossible this year, Madam. I have your schedule fully prepared for the next whole month. There is no room at all for such a frivolity. Besides, we have a goodly number of entertainments planned in your schedule and fine noble stallions already set to accompany you to them. You have no need for the fair.
“Perhaps, if I have adequate notice, I can schedule you to go to the fair for up to three hours, next year. With a proper noble stallion for an escort, of course.”
Planting her hooves stubbornly, Luna said flatly, “No. Bourbage, you did not listen. I AM going to the fair. Now. My missing a garden party will not bring down the kingdom.”
“But - - You must have a suitable Noble Stallion as your escort! In that way, the populace will know that there is still an active search for a proper King to rule - -” He got no further. Royal hooves slammed into his side and drove him against the wall. He fell, a crumpled heap of pony.
Luna’s infamously loud and carrying Royal Canterlot Voice roared out, “TREASON! GUARDS! CELESTIA! I need you here NOW! EAST DOOR TO MY QUARTERS!”
It was a few minutes before Celestia got there. She was leading a comet trail of Court sycophants, the Saddle-Arabian Ambassador and a contingent of Guards.
“What is the fuss, Luna? Whatever do you mean by yelling like that? If you wanted to meet me, our protocol ponies can always set something up.” As she was speaking, Celestia’s eye fell on the crumpled form of Bourbage. Her eyes widened in sudden shock and interest.
Her own protocol pony, Alder, saw Bourbage too. He turned to flee. Fruitless. Luna’s midnight magic held him just above the floor of polished Marble.
She dropped him on top of Bourbage. Turning to Celestia, Luna asked, “Have you asked to see me lately, Sister? I have asked to see you. I was told that you were too busy with important functions to see me.”
Celestia frowned below her crown. “I have asked to see you. I was told the same.” Struck by a thought, she asked, “Have you tried to read the Chronicle lately? Every time that I start to go that way, I have been diverted by other things.
“Alder told me that he has somepony watching the Chronicle for any developments of importance.”
Luna gave Celestia a troubled look, her eyes drooping. “Bourbage told me the same. I have had no actual reports of what the Chronicle says. No notes from Father either.”
Luna turned haunted eyes to her sister ruler.
“Let me explain what has happened here. I told Bourbage that I was going to go down to see the Canterlot Fair, on the plains below the mountain. Bourbage let it slip that I needed a proper Noble Stallion for an escort so that the populace will know that we are still searching for a proper Stallion to rule as King.”
Celestia nodded, grimly. “It is happening again. We swore, after you returned from the Moon, that we would NEVER let the Court come between us again. They are obviously doing far more than merely trying to marry us off.”
Luna nodded sadly. “They are trying to seize the rule of the kingdom, just like before the Nightmare Wars. We have caught them in time, I think. We cannot allow such divisions to happen again.”
With a sigh, Celestia turned to her guards. Pointing with her horn, she commanded, “Cap their horns with metal, so that they cannot give or make any surreptitious message or signal. Lock them in a common dungeon cell. Give no notice to any nor allow any visitors. Do not place them by name in any record. List them as unknown intruders who are potentially violent.”
Reaching for fetters and a horn cap, the guard ventured, “These ponies are important members of the Advisory Council. Are you sure … “
Luna said with deadly mildness, “There are sixteen tiled latrines on the palace’s east side. They will soon need to be cleaned by a private holding the brush in his mouth. Am I clear enough?”
All that the Guard Sargent said was, “How did these intruders get so far into the Palace?”
He efficiently secured them and capped their horns. Accompanied by three guards, Bourbage and Alder were led away.
Celestia knit her brows in concentration. “It has to be the whole of the Advisory Council. I will double check the Chronicle and see if Father has left us any notes.”
She shed a tear. “I so wish that those idiots so long ago had not tampered with what we wrote for the Edict of Banishment. Grander Language and Finer Poetic Wording be damned along with those vile ponies. I would give anything to be able to see Father again.”
The Saddle-Arabian ambassador was aware that he was observing both a major governmental upheaval and, apparently, some sort of a personal one as well.
He made a snap decision and offered, “A number of your other courtiers appear to be trying to flee as well.”
Magics, both many hued and midnight reached down the length of the hall, slamming the doors, which, though decorative, were very solid.
Seeing a possible opportunity to ingratiate himself with what he had been told were titular rulers but who seemed to be asserting themselves, he said, “Well done! I saw something that I believe that I should not have. I do not mean the arrests. Those are politics which I am instructed to stay away from.
“I refer to the issue of your father. It was my understanding that you are about 3000 years old. That would make him an immortal like you, if you might see him again. I ask from ignorance of the problem, but perhaps my nation’s influence might be used to find him if he has left or fled Equestria?”
Celestia turned to him and replied, “The problem is not so simple, Isea ben Grabbit. If that were all that it was, we could easily do the same. Still, We thank you for a generous offer.”
Luna said sadly, “You have been to some of our Adjustments of the Heavens. I know that you did have some ponies checking the magic that we use. You know that it is very different from ordinary unicorn magic. It is not our Alicorn magic either. That is simply an extremely powerful form of unicorn magic.
“At Adjustments and a few other rare events we use Creator Magic. It is a form of the same magic that was used to make this whole world. It has some great limitations. What is done with it cannot be undone by any means at all. The other and equally important one is that it cannot be set against itself.
“Through a machination of the Court prior to the First Nightmare War, our Foster Father of more than a thousand years was banished from our sight and from Canterlot by the use of Creator Magic. It was supposed to be a limited and reversible banishment. The Courtiers, unknown to us, switched the scroll containing the Banishment Edict. “All that they did was reword it for Better Poetic Language and a Grander Effect.” Those changes became literal and permanent.
“Our Father vanished from our sight and from Canterlot. Forever. That is a word that means something different to Immortals like us than it does to short lived ponies.”
The horse (not a pony) from Saddle-Arabia thought over what he had been told carefully. “So, if your father is found, and you steered to him as pony of interest, rather than, ‘I have found your father!’ that would be a good thing to do. Proving him to you would simply deny him to you in the same instant. Is that correct?”
Luna paused in corralling the courtiers that had tried to flee and told him, “You are wise Isea. We have lost father twice before because of idiot courtiers trying to curry favor by proving that we were talking to him. We seem to have become surrounded by fools.”
One of the courtiers that Luna had rounded up sneered, “If the Great Magic is so strong, why not simply command the sun and the moon to their courses and be done with it? Those once a Moon “adjustments” are mere show to impress the populace. We, of the Nobility, know better!”
Isea ben Grabbit said quietly, “If that is what you know, then the Princesses are correct. You know nothing. I reveal here, to them, that my agents have obtained copies of used Scrolls of Adjustments. They are composed of a mathematics so deep that we cannot fathom it. What we have learned is that they are matrices of inequalities containing hundreds of factors each. These are drawn to paired solutions that appear to fit a very tight set of parameters.
“Whatever they are and do, they are not nonsense syllables. I would venture that they are precisely what their Highnesses say that they are. I would presume, upon the available evidence, that there is some very sound reason that they do not just do it once and be done with it, as you suggest.”
He swept off his cap of cloth and knotted ropes of gold entwined rope and bowed to the Princesses. “These things that I have told you and other observations of my agents and myself have all been communicated to my King and Queen. On the basis of them, Saddle-Arabia offers Equestria a treaty of absolute military support, should you be beset. The details of the treaty are in my quarters.
“I had meant to present the offer at the next Great Court. It appears that now is a more auspicious time. I wish you well with tracking down the traitors. That, I am forbidden to assist with or I would.”
Celestia nodded acceptance of his statement, while saying, “The offer of the treaty is gratefully accepted. I understand the need for an Ambassador to steer clear of the local politics. Our own ambassadors are under the same restriction.”
Turning to Luna, Celestia said, “Dear Sister, you wished to go to the Canterlot Fair? I have a question that is important, if you do. Will you trust me enough to put your name and mark alongside mine for whatever I need to do to clean up this viper’s nest?”
Luna gave her sister a hard look while thinking. “Why would you want me absent, Celestia?”
Celestia said gently, “You are still a skilled surgeon. I want you clear of the action here, which may well become violent. For a second reason, these traitors’ cases will be under the Royal Wing for judgment. I will be the accuser and gather the evidence. You will be our fair judge. If Father taught us anything, it is that judgment and fairness must go hoof in hoof. If you are here, that fairness may be compromised.”
Luna looked about the sumptuous hall surrounding them as she thought. She slipped off and handed to Celestia her Royal Signet and said, “With this I am granting you full authority for all that you do.
“I am going to the Canterlot Fair.”
Luna turned and cantered to the balcony. There was a panicked clatter of hooves and armor as her Guards, taken off guard ran to follow as Luna spread her huge midnight wings and leaped from the castle balcony.
Frantically fluttering Pegasus Guards swarmed about her so closely that they almost collided with her strongly stroking wings.
Her Wing feathers suffering control loss due the dangerous proximity of the flapping and swarming Guard, Princess Luna deliberately faked a control failure roll and fall. The aghast Guard Major finally realized how wildly out of control his Flight was.
Frantically calling orders, he got his ponies into a formation dive in an attempt to rescue the Princess that they themselves had apparently knocked from the sky by sheer incompetence. Worse, there were hundreds of watchers down below who had seen the whole bungle.
Seeing that the Guard were now in a proper, if emergency, formation, Princess Luna swept her wings out and back, converting a tumble into a fast, fully controlled dive. Spreading them forward, Luna’s wings caught the air in swoop that sent a booming noise groundward.
She was gliding smoothly, under perfect control, riding the thermals rising from the plains below. The Guard, seeing the performance, realized that they had never really seen their Princess in true flight before. Grace, power and speed attended her far better than they could. Even gliding, the big midnight Alicorn was faster than they were.
The Major, by a massive effort, managed to catch up to Luna and, panting, requested, “Please slow down, Your Highness! Let your Guard catch up to you!”
She retorted, “Like up by the palace? I like staying in the air, thank you!”
“No, Your Highness. Not like that. You caught us by surprise.”
She interrupted, “Even pegassi school foals know better than to swarm another flier! This Guard will STAY well back and NOT interfere with my visit to the Canterlot Fair! Is that clear, Major?”
He nearly swallowed his tongue in horror. “The Fair! You cannot do this, Your Highness! It will take us days to search all the barns, exhibits, booths and acts to be sure of your safety!”
“Really, Guard Major? I will set this to you, then. The entire cost of the search shall by born by your own pay and no other source. That cost shall include not only the cost of the physical search, it will include ALL of the losses of the Fair’s businesses, booths and games without exception.
“Am I truly in such great danger from my subjects, especially when they do not know that I am coming to the Fair?”
Putting the price of his actions in his own pocket, cleared the Major’s head. “No, Your Highness. Probably not. It is the Order of the Advisory Council that such things be done.”
The shade trees of the Fairground were looming ahead. Luna smiled sweetly as she replied, “The Advisory Council? You mean all those ponies who are going to jail for Treason?”
The Major said thoughtfully, “When you put it that way …”
Luna’s famous Royal Canterlot Voice boomed down from above, “Armored Pegassi Guard formation landing! Please clear space!”
Spreading her wings wide and pitching up, Luna came gracefully to ground at the entry gate to the Canterlot Fairground. Her Guard, following barked orders landed expertly in good military formation about five paces behind her.
She serenely paced up to the gate and asked, “How much for admission to the fair for myself and the eleven Guards behind me, please?”
Glancing up, she saw a sign and smiled brightly, “Nevermind, I see it! It will cost five bits, six.” She fished in her purse and produced a golden bit. Seeing the admission booth pony’s horror-stricken look, she smiled again and offered, “The correct change is 94 bits, four.”
He attempted to just wave her through. The Princess baulked, her brow clouding. “NO. This is a Royal Command! We will enter the fair the same as any other! My change, please! I can see your cash tray. You do have it.”
The miserable pony, quaking in fear for his job, handed Luna her change. She and her Guards were barely into the fairground when a fat pony with clattering ornaments of Office and Service charged up.
Panting and out of breath, he tried a bow but nearly fell on his face! Looking up, he said, “Princess! I heard that you were charged admission! I will have the job of the admissions pony for this!”
Luna’s midnight magic wrapped firmly about his muzzle to prevent further speech. She said bluntly, “That WAS MY ORDER. I have come to the Fair the same as any other. I want no special treatment nor a “guided tour.” I will go where I will and see or do what I wish!
“That admissions pony did correctly what he was supposed to do. If you fire him, you will make up his lost wages out of your own personal pocket. You may not take ANY action against him.
“Am I clear?”
The fair functionary, quivering in his ponyshoes, said, “Indeed it is. We have so many fine exhibits that it would be a shame for you to miss them. They are just this way …”
Luna stepped forward, towards where he was blocking her way and pointing to the display barns. He suddenly realized that she was going to walk right through him if he did not get out of her way. He moved.
Her Guard, trying to retain an impressive formation followed Luna to the beginning of the Midway. She was studying a map of the fairgrounds. Smiling, she made her way to the row marked on the map as Snacks and Treats.
Seeing a booth with Deep Fried Battered Clover Tops, Luna made for it like a bee seeing a honey flower. As she joined the line, her Guard officiously began to order the other patrons out of her way. Luna snapped, “Major! Contain your ponies! These ahead of me were here first and will STAY there! I have not come here to push my subjects around or out of my way! I thought that I already made that clear!”
The chastened Guards resumed their position behind the Princess. A nervous pony ahead of her in the line, offered, “You may have my place, Princess Luna.”
Gazing past him at the booth ponies, she replied, “No, I think not. They have just put in a fresh batch to fry. We have a few minutes.”
Her magic gathered the ponies in the line together gently. “There are some ponies who are full up to the ass with ideas of 'Their Station in Life, and Their Place.’ They have forgotten the most important thing about their Station.
“It rests on a solid foundation of ponies like yourselves. Keep your places in the line and I will keep mine.
“Snacks are coming out! Form up the line!”
Happily munching her snacks, she turned to the Major, who actually appeared to be paying attention now, and repeated her offer, “Are you sure that you and the Guard will have none? I will buy.”
“We really cannot, Princess. It is not a matter of station. It is Guard Regulations. We are on duty and may not partake until our day’s duty is done.”
She turned and faced them all. “You have my apologies for forgetting so basic a thing.” She then went back to a copy of the fairground map.
“I have seen games and sales booths before. What is this space just down the midway from us? The one marked Rom Encampment?”
The Major said, “Let me see.” He circled her so that he stood between Luna and the Rom Encampment at the end of the midway. He pointed to the area marked Exhibit Barns and suggested, “There are some truly fine exhibits and displays over here. They would almost certainly be entertaining.”
Luna tilted her head and gave the Major a hard glare. “Subtly done, Major. You totally dodged my question and attempted to divert me from what I asked.
“Now, tell me why you are going so far out of your way, Major, to keep me from the Rom Encampment.”
He curled a lip disdainfully as he snarled, “They are the trash of the Equestrian Roads! They wander from Market to Fair and never settle anyplace. Most of them are deformed unicorns. Too tall. Horns either curved or straight but too long in either case. They cover themselves with sashes and wear leather strappings.
“They pretend to a trade in handicrafts and jewelry. They do wild, so called dances to instruments that no decent pony plays. The reality is that they are thieves. Everywhere that they go, crime goes way up. If they do get caught, they nearly always weasel off at trial.
“They are the Lowest of the Low Base Born! They even deny the name of pony. They call themselves Horses. Whorses is more like it! They do not bother to register their births, marriages or deaths. In my home town, we have ordinances that keep them out of the town proper. We only allow them at the fair.
“You wanted to know. That is it! You may not go to the Rom Encampment. It is completely unsuitable for one of your Station. That is final!”
He saw the utterly hostile glare that his Princess was giving him but tried to stand his ground. He stepped into her path when she tried to go around him.
Luna stopped. In a flat voice that he had heard when she was denying appeal in capital cases, she stated, “Major, you have told me far more than you realize. I am going to the Rom Encampment and that is final. If you try to block me one more time, I shall dump you into a garbage bin.”
She took another step and he placed himself so that she actually bumped into him. Seconds later, Midnight Magic, shot thorough with stars, dumped him headfirst into a garbage bin. Luna stalked past his flailing hindhooves. Her magic lifted him out of the bin and dropped him flat on the ground in front of his troop.
“Behind me! Five paces! And STAY there!”
A scream loud enough to be heard from the castle, up on the mountainside, called attention away from the disturbance on the fairground. A unicorn fell tumbling and screaming from a shattered rose window on the side of the castle. Smoke was pouring out of the window. His screams went on and on. It takes a long time to fall 1800 feet.
As the unicorn’s body splattered on the rocks of the mountain’s foot, Luna said calmly, “It looks like Celestia has had to take some extreme action.” She turned away from the spectacle of fire in the palace and went on down the midway.
It was obvious when she came to the Rom Encampment. As the Major had said, the booth and game keepers were handsomely conformed horses, very like the Saddle-Arabian Ambassador. Except that they were mostly unicorns with curved horns. Some had straight horns. The horns of either kind were mostly as long as her own.
They were all dressed in striking sashes, fringed and tasseled in brilliant colors. As a part of the costume, they all, even the foals, wore expertly tooled leather harnesses. To Luna’s trained eye, the harnesses, in spite of being beautifully decorated, were solidly made pulling harnesses like a dray pony might wear when dragging a wagon.
Luna, the shorter of the Twins, was still much taller than any but the biggest draft ponies. She had the almost unique sensation of looking others in the eye without needing to look down.
Luna stared at the astonishingly clad ponies … no, horses … in sheer delight. The effect of the colors, the plumes, flashing dangles, fringes and even bells was like nothing she had ever seen. She walked thoughtfully over to a booth selling embroidered and dyed cloths. As she got closer, she saw that it offered trims, needles, threads and other sewing supplies as well.
Remembering ages past, when she had helped to build Fortress Canterlot and decorate it, she smiled happily and asked the proprietor, a literally gray mare with a lovely dark ivory colored curved horn, “Do you have patterns for those lovely sashes? What all do I need to make things like that?
“I used to be very good at needle craft and I would love to try some of your …”
A Sargent barged in between Luna and the stall keeper. He demanded, “The Princess wants this garbage for some reason. Pack it all up and give it to her! Be grateful that you got the opportunity to give her a gift! Got it?”
Luna, not showing any of her outrage at what had just been demanded in her name, yanked both of his forehooves straight back, dropping the Sargent flat on his lower jaw. She put a hoof on his neck, just behind the chanfron helmet to keep him down, flat and silent.
“As I was saying, I would love to try some of your projects. Do you offer some sort of kits or advice?”
Keeping the hapless Sargent down, flat underhoof, the Princess and the Rom’s gray mare discussed and tested Luna’s skills. Following the recommendations of the booth keeper, Luna turned away with a nicely stuffed bag of sewing goods and supplies. She could hardly believe her luck.
Scarcely believing her luck, the stall keeper carefully put away the five golden bits, four silver and six that she had been paid.
Everywhere that she looked the things offered by the Rom encampment booths appeared to be of the highest quality. Her eye was drawn to a lovely kitchen knife set of brilliantly done Damascus patterned steel with handles of polished antler.
As one of the Guard started to break ranks to admonish the Princess about “common pursuits” the Major stopped him. He had no concern or caring for the Rom or anypony else. He was seeing the possibility of an entire military career being destroyed by the present debacle.
Luna spared a glance and said, “Well done, Major! Five Paces Back and STAY there. I do not need reminders of my Station by Lesser Nobility who have FORGOTTEN THEIRS!”
Drawn to a game, Luna exclaimed happily, “Darts! I used to be quite handy with those during the Nightmare Wars! I wonder if I am still any good?”
She laid her copper bits on the counting board and received her first five darts. One at a time, they made a cluster of feathered ends standing out from the target’s bullseye.
One of the guards was overheard to comment sarcastically, “Wow. Throwing darts. No wonder she lost the Nightmare Wars.”
She quietly bought five more darts with an entire silver bit, refusing her change. “I mean to put a loudmouth in his place. The darts will be ruined by it.”
She stalked over to the Sargent and, using her magic, detached the lowest plate of his right tasse. Wordlessly, she took the tough armor plate and pressed it to a tree, where it stuck. She backed off, well out of the range of a sword or spear from the tree.
She flashed into powerful motion five times. The feathered ends of the darts barely stuck out of a huge hole in the steel armor plate. She stalked back to the tree and wrenched the plate free. Her magic carefully removed the severely damaged darts from the tree. She dropped them and the plate that they had pierced in front of him.
Finally, Luna spoke. Her voice was like ice as she snapped, “Pity it was not your breastplate! With you in it!”
She turned her back and resumed her game. She won a small stuffed toy. All of the Guards were staring at the shattered plate and the simple toy darts that had done it.
Luna turned and, mood shifting to cheerful as she put her back to her Guard, followed up the sound of some music. It was a blind Rom harper, sitting on a blanket and playing melodies like none that Luna had ever heard before. He had out a box for coins. The scale was strange and so was the instrument that he played.
It had strings similar to harp’s but they were fastened differently. Instead of being fastened along a line up the center of the sounding board, they were fastened to the foot of the board, passing up in front of it. They were all supported by a complex system of bridges resting on the face of the resonating box.
The tune being wrung from it was utterly enchanting to Luna. It reminded her of the strange tunes that she had heard from her balcony. She stopped and listened the tune through.
She dropped three golden bits into the harper’s box and requested, “Would you please play that one through again? I wish to commit it to my memory and I missed the whole opening of it.”
“I will play it for you, My Lady Mare. I can hear that you have body guards, and are therefore a pony of some consequence. Despite that, you have given me coin and spoken kindly to me. Is it too much to ask what may be your title and name? I would wish to remember so remarkable a pony as yourself.”
Luna actually looked sick as she said, “Simple courtesy and giving alms is remarkable?”
“From the nobles of the realm, yes.
“The lower born, who often share our difficulties with the nobility, are kinder and more generous.”
“Then know, blind harper, that you are speaking to the Princess Luna of Equestria, Guardian of the Night, Harbinger of Dream, and sometimes, the Embodiment of the Nightmare.
“May I ask of you, your name?”
Quaking a bit at the knowledge of to whom he was speaking, he said, “I am Carolan, Lyrist of the band of Sando. I carry the bloodline of the Ghost Who Guides.”
“Really, Carolan? I do not know what it means to carry the bloodline of the Ghost Who Guides. How can a Ghost have a bloodline at all? Is it some sort of title?”
“Perhaps it is. We have always called him that from time out of mind. Properly, his name is Marchhare and he died only one day away from the safety that he was guiding our ancestors to. He has been with us ever since. He has sired many foals over the centuries that he has been among us. If we have a horn, we are, perhaps at some remove, like myself, of his blood.
“Our loved dead are always with us and none more loved than he.”
The Major started to interrupt, “See? What nonsense!? Ghosts and who knows what sort of …”
Luna cut him off, with not only the hugely loud Royal Canterlot Voice, her tone was so cold that it could have flash frozen an erupting volcano, “MAJOR! YOU and your Guard were ORDERED TO SILENCE! I am trying to ask questions of my subjects! I will not learn what THEY have to say if YOU keep INTERRUPTING YOUR PRINCESS’ CONVERSATION!”
Gently, she returned to Carolan and said, “I begin to see what you mean. If these petty nobles in my Guard are so rude and unpleasant to me, in public yet, what must they be like to the ones that they consider inferior? Supposedly they are under military discipline and have orders to serve me, their Princess. Instead, they interrupt and try to dictate to me. It must be far worse for you.
“Now, we are far from what I wanted, which was simply to hear some of your music and to learn about your - - instrument. I can see that it is not a harp. Where may I get one?”
Blind Carolan could sense that under the Princess’ calm something truly monstrous was stirring. Still, he pointed down the Midway a few booths. “This that I play is a lyre. There is the booth of Sa-Inat the luthier. He makes all manner of instruments besides lyres. He trades to both the music of ponies and Rom. His prices are most reasonable for such fine workmanship.
“The tune that you want me to play is called the Two Green Vines.”
Carolan readied his lyre and began with a strumming stroke from high notes to the bass strings. He began to dexterously pluck the the tune. Luna’s forehooves did unconsciously begin to dance, raising little puffs of midway dust. Her face settled into a true smile as she relaxed.
A pair of mares in gorgeous sashes, harness and plumes, approached to the tinkle of bells hung from parts of their harnesses. They awaited the ending of the tune.
They curtsied to Princess Luna and asked, “Our pardon please, Princess. We wish to borrow Carolan for some dance music …”
One of the Guard officiously tried to butt in, snapping, “Go away, you Rom Trash! The Princess is …” was as far as he got.
Midnight magic, so dark as to be near black and shot through with stars that looked more like the corrupt light given by a rotting corpse, slammed him back into the formation! He was driven so hard that his hinder hooves sank into the turf enough to trip him up and make an armor clattering nine-pins strike of the whole formation!
Luna turned to the Guard as they picked themselves up. Her usually blue eyes had gone to the pale glowing light of corruption. The Guard could see the fangs in her mouth as she Canterlot Voiced, for all to hear, “FIVE PACES BACK AND SILENT! How is that too hard for you? Are you Nobles so worthless that you cannot follow the SIMPLEST OF ORDERS?”
Turning back to the shocked dancers, Luna smiled her normal sweet smile and said, “Please, forgive the interruption. Some ponies never grew up to good manners and need the occasional slap on the butt to keep them in line. A few are so utterly stupid and useless that nothing can penetrate the armor of their Place In Society.
“You wanted Carolan to play some dances for you? I do think that I would love to see and hear that!
“Here, Carolan, I almost forgot because I had to discipline these unruly idiots that masquerade as my Guard.” She dropped another two golden bits into his change box.
One of the dancers, wide eyed at the sight of gold in Carolan’s box, helped the blind lyrist to his feet as she whispered into his ear, “Five golden bits she has given you!”
He leaned on the mare for guidance. The other gathered his blanket, change box and Lyre. Luna observed, from the familiarity with which they did it, that this was a common thing for them to do.
Luna approved entirely. The able helping the less able so that those could make themselves an honest living.
She happily trotted along behind the mares and Carolan.
They came to a cleared space, staked and roped off. The mares fussed over helping Carolan to get ready. There was a drummer and a flutist already waiting.
Rom standing about tilted their heads back and emitted loud trills as the mares took the center of the dancing area. The drummer started to lead off with a sensuous beat.
One of Luna’s Guard let out a loud fart sounding raspberry. Luna spun about on her hind legs, eyes aflame, if the phosphorescence of corruption could be likened to a flame. Her horn blazed with a putrid white magic, shot through with streamers of pus like green.
Her striking forehooves crushed in Sargent Hopwell’s brestplate like tinfoil. The slime-like magic siezed his hind hooves and pulled them forward between his forehooves, flipping him flat onto his back.
The magic lifted the hapless Hopwell by his hindhooves and dropped him headfirst into a garbage bin. Her roar was not merely the Royal Canterlot voice. Her voice housed the roars of every predator ever to strike fear into a pony as she demanded, “SILENCE! I SHALL BE VIOLENT WITH THE NEXT TO INTERRUPT!”
Turning back to the Rom, she said, in the gentle tones usually associated with Princess Luna, “Pray forgive the disturbance. My Guard has made me utterly ashamed of the nobility of Equestria. Your Princess begs you to forgive the need to discipline them like the motherless brats that they are behaving as.
“Please honor me with restarting the tune and dance.”
The dancers made a quite good curtsy to Luna and hit their opening poses again. This time the only interruption was Sargent Hopwell’s hooves scrabbling for purchase as he struggled to free himself from the garbage bin.
The dancers swayed and began to spin. From some hidden place they produced long gauzy veils that swirled about as if they had a life of their own. The dancers seemed to almost float above the ground at times. At others, their stamping hooves raised small clouds of midway dust.
When the dance was done, the dancers were in a deep bow toward the Princess. All about them, the horns of the Rom tilted back as they raised their heads and trilled loudly. Watching ponies clapped their hooves.
Luna, catching that the trill was the Rom version of applause, tilted back her head and trilled too. A number of the watching ponies, seeing the Princess trill, stopped clapping and trilled too.
Luna, smiling broadly, Luna gave each of the performers, including the musicians, another golden bit. She got up and walked over to blind Carolan and gave him his bit in person.
For once, following orders, her Guard stayed in tight formation five paces behind her and silent. They were glaring menacingly in all directions.
Smiling happily she asked, “Do you have many dances such as that one?”
The dancers shrugged, “Perhaps as many as a hundred and fifty discrete dances. We also do dance medleys and some simple free form dances, just for fun.”
“That is wonderful. Would your troupe be willing to perform for me up in the palace?”
The dancers and musicians looked at each other uncomfortably. Finally it was blind Carolan who spoke. “There are laws against it, Princess. Neither Canterlot nor any other town will allow us into it, save for passage on a Royal Road.
“It is against Rom traditions too. We do not go closer to Canterlot than the shadow of its walls. It has always been so, for so long as Rom have been on the Roads of Equestria.”
The Major, hearing Carolan, began to grin meanly.
“I regret to say this, Princess, but given that the laws forbid it already, we have to say that we do not wish to break the laws.”
Luna was just starting to say, “I see …” When the Major and the Guard charged past her screaming, “TREASON! Take the Traitors! They have all defied the Princess!”
She heard the splintering crash of Carolan’s lyre being destroyed. There were the screams of injured and horrified horses. She cold hear the thud of hard bucking blows and the breaking of bones. She smelled blood …
She yelled at the Guard in the loudest Royal Canterlot Voice, “Halt! Formation, NOW!”
She saw the grinning Major look up from pummeling the blind Carolan. “Can’t, Princess! Gotta take care of this nest of traitors first!”
The next sound that the Guard heard was a roar, so loud that it dislodged stones from the cliff of Canterlot’s mountain. It left searing frost behind it as the voice of the Embodiment of All Nightmares ordered, “FORMATION, NOW!”
The Major looked up from his assault on the helpless. It was not Luna there. It was not the Alicorn Nighmare Moon that he expected. No.
Reared onto her hind legs was the True Embodiment of All Nightmares. Her eyes flamed with a color that could only be called the phosphorescence of decay. Her forehooves were glowing flame. She was so black that there was no way to distinguish details that were not outlined, like the huge bat-like wings, the fangs, the magic pale, rotting corpse like and shot through with a greenish slime, already gathered about a horn longer than the Major was tall.
Simply to look at her was to know the terror of the worst nightmare that any seeing her had ever experienced.
Most of the Guard were sprinting to make formation. Sargent Hopwell was holding two mares by force and trying to clear his armor. Without looking up, he snapped back at the voice, “Got couple of Whorses! Be there as soon as I gets a little fun!”
For those watching, it was a scene out of nightmare. A living scene in a living nightmare. Hopwell struggled with the mares and strove to get his armor out of the way of his “fun.” The True Embodiment of All Nightmares took a single stride in his direction. As in a nightmare, the stride covered all the ground between them. A hoof of flame rose and slammed down.
There was the sickening crashing crunch of failing metal. The stench of burning flesh. The stench of splattered guts. Sargent Hopwell’s back plate was level with the ground. It was glowing red hot in the shape of a gigantic hoof print. His gore and blood burst out between the plates of the shattered armor.
The True Nightmare grabbed a hind hoof sticking up at an impossible angle. She ripped the corpse from the ground and hurled it at the formation. His mangled body hit, bounced once, and came to rest exactly at his position in the rank.
The Major, whose real battle experience was nil, was frozen to the spot, straddling the blind Carolan. He was staring directly at the Monster of all nightmares and he was terrified to paralysis. He saw the monster turn his way and begin a stride.
He ran, gibbering in horror, to the formation. He got there only fractions of a second ahead of the Nightmare beast. He stood in his exact spot, rooted there, shivering. He could not take his eyes from the still glowing, shattered armor that held Hopwell’s body.
Luna’s normal and gentle voice coming from the monster that was no longer pony like at all, though it still had a horn and bat wings, caused the surviving Guard to quake where they stood. She said softly, “Explain yourselves. You cried treason. What treason was there?”
Fearfully biting a lip because he feared a trap in the simple question, the Major swallowed hard and replied, “They refused your order for a command performance at the palace, Your Highness.”
“They did? I was not aware of it. I made no such order.”
“You asked them if they wanted to perform. Your request is an order. They defied you. We gave them the punishment due to traitors.”
Flatly, Luna’s gentle voice declared, “I asked a preference which they answered honestly. You have said that my request is an order. Defiance of my request is treason subject to violent punishment before an arrest or a trial. These things you have just said.
“Since leaving the palace you have been constantly ORDERED to remain five paces behind me and NOT INTERFERE in my conversations with my subjects. You have defied me. You are traitors. You shall receive the harm that you have given!”
The ghastly form of the True Embodiment of All Nightmares reared before him. A vast flaming hoof swung. The Major flew across the Midway. He hit a tree to the crunch of smashing metal. Ribs breaking and leg bones shattering were clearly heard. The Major fell to the tree’s roots. The glowing hot hoof print on his breastplate started some of the grass there to burning but it was green and went out quickly.
The True Embodiment of All Nightmares surveyed the scene of carnage. There were the shattered instruments of the musicians. Carolan’s beautiful lyre in a shatter of fragments and tangled strings. The Lovely dancers, one with a broken foreleg, the other with two. An uninjured curved horn mare cradling Carolan’s head and weeping.
Luna’s eyes looked out of the Nightmare. Speaking with complete concern, she asked, “What is it? How bad are his injuries?”
As the mare looked up, she realized that, of all that monster, her eyes were safe to see. She wept, “He is dying. I can hear his lungs bubbling.”
Still looking the mare directly in the eyes, Luna replied, “I used to be a very good battlefield surgeon. Do not be afraid of my magic. The color is only a seeming.” Her magic, looking like the pus of a rotting corpse, settled into Carolan. Soon she withdrew it.
“If I am to save him, I will need help. It is far easier to become a Nightmare than it is to awaken from it. I will call for help now.”
Up in the palace, Celestia was in a huddle with both Guards and Regular Equestrian Army. The wide spaces of the throne room smelled of smoke. She was saying, “General, your troops are doing an admirable job. You have the list. Carry on with sealing the city and sending pegatroopers to the estates of any who you have any doubt might escape.
“We all heard my sister’s order to Formation. She cannot use that voice unless the Nightmare has emerged. She promised me, at the end of the last Nightmare War that she would never allow it again unless at the greatest need. I fear something terrible has happen …”
The roar shook the mountain. Hoarfrost formed on all the walls and the hearers were rooted with a plain to see terror.
“Celestia! Come quickly! I need you!” It was a voice freighted with the inescapable grief of a Nightmare with no awakening. It found some purchase out on the plains and it echoed back to the mountain’s side, “Celestia! Come quickly! I need you!” The grief of it reverberating back and forth from Mountain to plains and back.
Of the hearers, Celestia alone raised her head. Magic of the sun and day boosted a return call that was near equally loud. “I am coming, my Sister! I am on my way!”
General Hurricane V shivered but came straight to the point. “That was not the Nightmare Moon, was it, Princess? It was a far worse thing, I would guess."
“You are correct, General. The Alicorn, Nightmare Moon, could never have stood against us through the ten years of the Nightmare Wars. She was a fiction to help allay the fears of the populace. This is the Embodiment of All Nightmares. She is my sister and I must go! I trust you to finish the work that we have begun.”
She spun about and sprinted for a balcony of the Throne Room, her Guards behind her. She turned to them and said, “These are your orders. Do no thing to interfere with the Nightmare or what it is doing. NO THING AT ALL. You simply find me a safe landing spot as close to the Nightmare as possible and secure it for me.
“Launch!”
The Guards leaped and began the fast stooping dive to the Canterlot Fairground, far below. Celestia was close behind them. A few hundred feet up, the big Alicorn banked off into a circle while her Guard found the safe spot and landed, forcing the few civilians there out of the way, to safety.
Celestia dropped down hard, like a striking hawk to her landing. Bunching, she jumped past her Guard, landed and jumped again. She was beside the Monster that her sister presently was.
All that she said was, “How can I help you, Luna?”
Weeping tears of blood and fire, a flaming hoof pointed to Carolan. “I need to awaken from the Nightmare and awakening will be too slow to save him.”
Not questioning her sister’s reasons, Celestia gathered her magic of many hues and enwrapped her sister in it. As her magic entered, the Embodiment of All Nightmares began to shrink and turn to a familiar dark midnight blue. In seconds, it was Princess Luna who stood there.
Her magic quickly gathered her new kitchen knife set as she sprinted for the fallen Lyrist. She told the mare, “Please keep holding his head. Keep his mouth open and tongue out so that it cannot block his breathing. I will make him sleep deeply so that he will not move. I am going to have to physically cut into his chest to fix this, but I can do it if we are in time!”
Celestia came and knelt to Carolan’s other side as Luna’s razor sharp knives began their cuts. Many hued magic reached into the cuts, alongside her sister’s midnight magic. Bleeding was stanched. The cuts opened wide to make Luna’s work easier.
Seeing the astonishment on the mare’s face, Celestia explained gently, “Luna is far the better surgeon of us two. I doubt that there is a better surgeon in all of Equestria. I do well as an operating nurse for her.” She turned back to the delicate but swift work at hoof.
Luna spoke for the first time since the cutting began. In a neutral voice, she said, “I am about to enter his chest. When I do, he will stop breathing. Do not be alarmed.
“Celestia, be very careful as you spread the wound. He has many broken ribs. Some are already damaging his lung. I need them lifted out carefully so that I can seal the injuries. Then, I have to get the blood out of his chest.
“It would help if I had some absorbent cloths to catch it.”
She continued to cut swiftly and with precision. In moments, a gaping hole opened in Carolan’s chest. Some fragments of bone lifted out with care to cause no further damage.
Luna’s normal midnight Magic reached in and damaged bits of lung came out of the wound. A towel caught them. Luna was concentrating ferociously. Sweat began to run on her forehead. A towel caught that too.
Without looking up, she said, “Cloths at the ready. There is a lot of blood in here.”
Her magic was lifting out globs of partly jelled blood. As fast as it came out, it was caught and taken away.
Luna’s magic began to pull severed membranes together all but a small part. Muscles were next. As many hued magic pulled things close, midnight magic brought them to a perfect fit and they sealed together as if never cut.
Luna leaned forward and sucked air out of the hole that she had left. As she sealed it, Carolan’s damaged chest began to heave. The mare holding his head was openly crying.
Broken ribs were brought together by midnight magic. Many hued magic sealed them together to apparently whole ribs. Muscle, skin and blood vessels were done by Celesta’s magic bringing them close and Luna sealing them.
Celestia explained to the Mare holding Carolan’s head, “Luna is far better with soft things. I do the best with hard ones. She does the soft parts while I help. I do the hard pieces while she helps.”
With Carolan’s chest closed, Luna began cutting along a severely fractured rib. It made the reassembly of the splintered bone far easier. With Celestia’s help, she closed that cut and began another. She followed by repairing the simple fractures without needing to cut at all.
Gently she and Celestia tipped Carolan’s body up so that his mouth was down. Luna explained, “We have the blood that spilled into his chest out. Blood also spilled inside his lungs. We will need another cloth to catch it. I will use my magic to help it move down and out of him. It will look alarming but it is harmless.”
As predicted, it did look alarming as blood came out of his mouth, some in globs, some still liquid, and some as thin streaks in mucus. Cloths caught it all. Soon, Luna was satisfied.
She directed the mare that had been Carolan’s companion through the whole ordeal, “We need to lay Carolan where he will be comfortable. A good bedding would be best. He will awaken in an hour or so.
“He will need …”
“You must attend to that injured Guardspony! Let this worthless trash …” The arrogant interrupter suddenly swallowed hard. He saw Celestia’s flank mark.
Near babbling, he went on, “Your Highness! What are you doing here? This is a very dangerous place! A huge monster was seen here. We must get you to safety! I have brought armed ponies to slay the beast.”
Celestia glared at the obese pony with his Chain of Office. “Baron Nulcount! You have interrupted both of your Princesses! We are giving treatment instructions for a recent major emergency surgery patient.
“We have two more important surgeries yet to do. You are keeping them in unnecessary pain. Go on, Luna. Tell her what she needs to know.”
Luna nodded and returned to the mare, who had also managed the cloths during the operation to save Carolan. “He will awaken soon. He will need small amounts of water and leafy greens. Spinach is best. I will send for some for you to use. Space the meals and water about fifteen minutes to a half hour apart. He will want to sleep a lot. Let him.
“Carolan will have to have a week or so of this before he is fit to play again. His injury is not the problem here. He lost a great deal of blood. Replacing it will take time and the gentle care that I have prescribed.
“I will be here to help you care for him.”
The mare accepted the instructions with a sad face. “We will miss the Ponyville fair. It is a big one.” She gazed down at the ruin of splintered wood and tangled strings that had been a fine lyre and added, “I guess that it does not matter. We have nothing left to play for our coin.”
Luna listened carefully and nodded her head slowly. “I do see the problems. I will take care of them. Fear not.”
She turned to the dancers and her magic soaked into the broken leg of one. She said, “This is a simple break. It is going to be painful for a little. There will be swelling too. It will go down in a week or so. You will be able to dance again soon. I have already fused the bone back together. Give it an hour before you stand on it, OK?”
The other dancer looked at Luna as if she was seeing a goddess instead of a Princess.
Luna told her, “Your case is different. You will recover completely also. I am going to have to put you to sleep the same as I did for Carolan. For the same reason. I am going to have to cut open your right leg to heal it. The bone is badly broken. The left is not so bad and we will do it like I did for your friend.”
With total trust, the dancer just said, “What you need to do, do it. I have seen three miracles today and you are all of them.”
“We must talk more of this later, after you are healed and no longer in pain. Now, I am going to put you to sleep.” A light touch of midnight magic to the side of her neck put her to sleep in seconds.
The operation was simple after that. The hardest part was keeping the fat slob of a Baron out of the way. Celestia did that admirably.
As Luna finished with the dancer and giving instructions for their care, she heard the Baron exclaim, “Treason! Me? But we were coming to save the Fair from a monster!”
Luna stepped delicately over the wreckage of Carolan’s lyre as she went to join the conversation.
“A Monster? Me? Do not be foolish, Baron. What are my titles?”
“That is foolish! Don’t you know them?”
Tapping the Baron’s forehead with a hoof, Luna replied, “Indeed I do. I wanted to see if there is anything in here at all! Apparently not.”
“I am the Princess Luna, Co-ruler of Equestria, Guardian of the Night, Harbinger of Dreams and Sometime The True Embodiment of All Nightmares.”
“What happened here was the release of that last. It is not only a title. It is me.”
“Like a Were-beast! A wild rampage of destruction stopped only by brave guardsponies!”
Midnight magic yanked the Baron’s forehooves back, dropping him on his jaw. The magic seized his ears and slammed his head up and down on the ground. “No. No, Baron. Not a Were-beast on a rampage.
“Have you ever had a nightmare? I know that you have. A pleasant dream? I know that too. ME. My influence at both extremes and the ones between. All me. No Were-beast. Just me. Doing what I do with ponies. Dreams. Sometimes the dream becomes a reality like this mess.
“The Guardsponies did ALL of the damage that you see here. They broke the legs of helpless dancing mares. The Major beat that BLIND musician near to death. They smashed the instruments of the musicians. They wrecked these stalls and booths.
The dead guard was trying to rape innocent mares before my eyes. He refused to stop when commanded. The Nightmare stopped him.
The Major beat a BLIND musician and smashed his lyre. The musician’s life was saved by emergency surgery done by Celestia and I. Another few minutes and he would have been dead!”
The Baron managed to get out, “A Rom! Good riddance!” His head was slammed into the dirt once for each word.
“Rom or not, Baron, A CITIZEN OF EQUESTRIA! A Civilian offering no resistance!
“The Major stated that their offering reasons for not wishing to perform at the Palace was Treason. He stated that their punishment before any arrest or trial was the proper way to deal with the Treason of not respecting my wishes.
“He set that as proper. He and his ponies have defied my direct orders and my stated wishes. Treason, convicted by his own mouth. I have given him the punishment that he was meeting out. If he lives he will be arrested and tried. If not, an unmarked Traitor’s Grave will be his.”
Utterly confused, the Baron cried, “This is madness! The Rom are simply the Trash of the Roads! You can’t control them at all! They will not settle in any place! They pay no attention to any boundary, be it Road District, town, city, barony, county, or Duchy!
“It is all that one can do to get the tolls and fees from them!”
Luna crouched down by the Baron’s head and pointed out, “I was informed that the towns, cities, baronies, counties and duchies have laws forbidding them from entry. If that is so, how could they possibly settle anywhere?”
Suddenly her head tilted and her eyes opened wide. She was totally focused on the Baron. “Tolls and fees? You mean the Royal Road District tolls? What fees are these that you are talking of? You know, I do have a perfect memory, necessary for adjustments of the heavens. Also handy when auditing Royal Road reports.
“There is no mention of tolls or fees charged to Rom for over two hundred and fifty years back. That is as far as such records go.
“Section tolls include camping in waysides and the use of fairgrounds during participation in fairs. The Rom are here. I will find out what the tolls and fees are, how much and for what.”
The Baron was cringing even more than the enforced position of his head caused. “They are traditional! They have been taken from time out of mind!”
“Fascinating. Embezzlement is good because it is traditional. Did you hear that, Celestia? The excuse is that if his father stole from the Crowns of Equestria, it is fine for him too! I think not.”
Celestia was watching her sister in mild amazement. This was a side of Luna that, after these thousands of years, she had not seen. She wondered what had set off both the Embodiment of Nightmare and this relentless quest for knowledge in public, yet.
It was obvious that her sister was out not only to get facts for a judgment, she was definitely trying to embarrass the Baron. Celestia waited. She did trust Luna. There was clear outrage in her and Celestia knew that Luna would tell her if she did not figure it out herself.
One thing Celestia was certain of. It had to do with these ponies she had never heard of before today. These ponies called the Rom.
Celestia had to admit that their unusual sashes and harnesses were unique in her experience. There was a faint resemblance to some of the formal traditional wear of the Saddle-Arabian Ambassador. He wore no harness but did wear a white barding. It was sometimes done in several parts.
During the operation on Carolan she had noticed the superlative workmanship of the knives that Luna was using. As she looked about, she saw more signs of such craftsmanship.
She was curious too, about the origin of a race of unicorns that resembled the horses of Saddle-Arabia and had such gracefully curved horns. She could feel the raw power of them if it were ever released.
To her surprise, a Rom mare came cautiously close, offering a paper cone filled with breaded and fried sweet clover flower tops. One of her Guards was about to strike it away.
“No, Sargent. Allow her to approach. I will trust her. I had help from her earlier.” Besides the cone of really delicious snacks, the mare had a second cone that had been waxed to waterproof it. There was an iced sweet drink in it.
Celestia enjoyed both but saved some for Luna. Luna was busy homing in on the Baron’s embezzlement of Road Section tolls and those fees, which were turning into quite a list. All of them either outright illegal or illegally applied to Rom only.
Luna finally turned about dismissively. “I am done with you, Baron. I will be interviewing a number of others before I pass judgment on you. You may leave. NOW!”
Luna saw the treats in Celestia’s magic and gave her a questioning look. Celestia grinned and pointed to the young mare. “She brought it for us. I saved you some. Still has ice in it!”
Luna gave the young mare a long, considering stare. She did not flinch. She sat up proud and said, “Thank you for saving my grandfather. He was blinded years ago by some stupid town ponies.
“They accused him of looking lasciviously at a mare pony that they fancied. It was crazy because there is nothing attractive about short, mis-colored ponies, at least to us. We Rom are Horses and proud of it!” she finished, head high.
Luna looked sadly about at the wreckage of the sales stalls and games. Then she looked the mare in the eye. She said, “It was an honor to save him and the dancers both.
“What is your name, good mare? You have helped me and I do not know you beyond Carolan’s granddaughter.”
Eyes alight and head high, the mare replied, “My name is in our old Gyptian tongue. It is Sha-Ja-Shehan.”
“I Thank you, Sha-Ja-Shehan. My name is Luna. As you know, I am one of the twin rulers of Equestria. Your horses have been hidden from my sister and I. We need to learn much about you. This sort of thing must not happen again.
“I need to speak to your many horses. I owe them apology for this and damages too. It was the ponies who were supposedly guarding me that caused all of this. Can you please bring me those who lead you? Your Princess has many questions and apologies to offer. What I have seen is clearly only the tip of the problem. I wish to find out as much as I can of the truth here.”
The eldest Rom, leader of a Rom band, stepped forward. “Ma'am, Princess Luna. I can answer most of what you need.”
“Why did your ponies refuse to perform at the castle? Most performers dream of a chance to entertain at the castle.”
Rom considered his answer carefully. “You saw what just happened. It was not the worst. We do not enter most towns except at need. We do not enter Canterlot at all nor come within the shadow of its wall.
“In this, we follow the lead of the Ghost Who Guides. He says that the Canterlot Fair is as close as he will go. For us it has always been so.”
Luna’s mind suddenly cast back centuries. She remembered the Edict of Banishment. She remembered finding the foster father that she loved several times, only to lose him when some officious courtier PROVED that the pony that she was speaking to was him. This Ghost Who Guides might be De Writer, her long lost foster father, again.
She quietly whispered her suspicion into Celestia’s ear. She finished, “It must NEVER be proved.” Tears at the corner of her eye, she added, “I don’t want to lose him again.”
Celestia nodded agreement. “We must never be sure of who he is. If this is father, how can we keep some kind of contact with him?
Luna brightened. “I think that I know. We must not pressure him into trying to enter Canterlot. What we can do is go to him. We can offer to be god mothers to his foals as an apology for the horrible way that his ponies … make that his horses, have been treated. That will sort of tie the Rom into the Equestrian Royalty. Perhaps it will make their treatment by our other subjects better. Time will tell if more need be done.”
Celestia turned to the Rom and asked directly, “Is this Ghost Who Guides here at the fair? You have said that you follow him. We would like to speak with him about you and your plight.”
The Rom gave them a bow and said, “He is not here at this time. If the Ghost so wills it, he can be here swiftly. The loved dead are always with us, and none more loved nor closer than he. We will send our request that he come. He is always watching over us.”
A slightly harsh donkey’s voice came from behind the Rom. “There will be no need to send for me, my old friend. I am here.” An elderly donkey dressed in Rom style with brightly colored and embroidered sashes and a beautifully tooled leather caravan pulling harness stepped around him.
Turning to the Princesses, he began a courtly bow. That was too much for one of Celestia’s guards. Officiously, he stepped forward and tried to shove the old donkey away. He was saying, “Get out of here! Their highnesses are awaiting an important visitor!” His hooves passed right through the old donkey as if he was not there. Failing to connect caused the guard to lose his balance and fall on his face.
As he looked down at the fallen guard, the raspy bray of the old donkey said, “I was invited to this jaw-flapping. You were not.” He then seated himself on the fallen Guard’s neck, preventing the armored pony from rising.
Looking up to the Princesses, the old donkey introduced himself. “I am called Marchhare, the Ghost Who Guides. These horses of the Rom are my friends. I believe that you asked to speak to me.”
Luna looked at him in a puzzled way and asked directly, “Are you a really a Ghost?”
Pointing at the assembled Rom behind him with the sweep of a long ear, Marchhare said, “They keep saying so. They say that I died in saving them from starvation, thirst, and heat-stroke on the desert of Celestia’s Anvil. Really, I do think that I would have noticed it if I had died.”
Marchhare paused to somewhat comically scratch behind his left ear with his left hind hoof. He added, “Got to admit that it gets harder and harder to deny. That was over 200 years ago.
“Besides, there are plenty of rude idiots like him,” he pointed down at the still prone guard under his hind quarters, “Who keep missing so spectacularly when they try shoving me around. It surely can’t all be bad coordination.”
Luna put a hoof to her mouth to suppress a giggle. Then she sobered and asked, “Do you lead these Rom?”
“No. The different bands of Rom all have a leader called Rom. This confuses everypony. Doesn’t bother us horses. If I am asked, or in certain emergencies, I will offer advice or even assistance.”
The Rom spoke up, “Only the most foolish or unwise do not take the advice of the Ghost Who Guides. His help is always welcome. We lead but he guides.”
Luna decided to trust her original instinct. To the old donkey she said, “This ghastly mess started because I requested a command performance by your lovely dancers and musicians at the castle.
“When, following your tradition, they refused politely, my guard almost went insane. I have lived for a very long time. I have fought and lead in wars. I have only once before seen anything like it.
“I have two things to propose that may help the overall situation but they will need your approval. I would extend the Royal Wing over your horses. You live on the roads of Equestria. We, my sister Celestia and I, OWN those roads. We will pay every Rom band for reports on the true condition of the roads of Equestria. That will give you some serious leverage with many communities because they get Royal funds to maintain those roads.
“The other thing that we would do, is become the God parents of your colts and fillies. We will come to you for this, not make you come to us. We will need instruction in your ways when we come to fulfill our duties as God parents.
“Will you allow this?”
Somewhat sarcastically the aged donkey brayed, “As long as you leave this troop of clowns behind! We don’t care for their performance so far! I count nine outright thefts from our booths, the attempt to carve us up, and two threatened rapes, which you stopped.”
He glanced casually over at Luna’s cowering Guards, with Hopwell’s smashed body in its precise place in their formation. “Good job, that. So, you really are the Nightmare that I read about in the histories of the Nightmare Wars.”
He scratched again, right ear this time. “Glad you stopped them, too. Saved me from having to kill the lot of them to keep my horses safe. I hate most killing.”
Luna’s eyebrow arched expressively as she inquired, “Most? Only most?”
The old donkey shrugged, “Some are necessary and a few are richly deserved.”
Sha-Ja-Shehan actually wept as she said, “Please, Marchhare, do not kill if it can be helped. It takes us so long to help you to get your heart together again.” Luna cocked her head at that but let it go.
Responding to the statement about theft, Luna gave a hard stare at her guard. Several began to squirm under her gaze. Celestia added her scrutiny to Luna’s. Her pale, many hued magic reached out over them in a soft looking but menacing cloud.
It swept through the many Rom sales and game booths, touching nothing. It looped back and five of the guard were swept from their feet and dropped before the Princesses. In a heap.
One, knowing himself for caught, reached into a pouch and produced a bangle, offering it to Celestia. She took it and then smashed him flat to the ground with her magic.
In a flat voice, she demanded of the guardspony at her right, “Search him. He is withholding other stolen goods.”
Two more necklaces of gold chain and carved stones were found. There was a flurry of activity among the other four as they quickly produced all of their loot.
Luna simply handed it all back to the band’s Rom. “I hope that you can find the proper owners and return this.”
Turning to Marchhare, Celestia, gazing about at the wonderfully garbed Rom, asked, “How come you pon – excuse me, Horses wear these astonishing outfits?”
Before he could answer, Sha-Ja-Shehan replied, “They are a tradition that goes back to our salvation. The original sashes were torn from a worn but still usable wagon cover. They shielded us from the deadly sun of the desert known still as Celestia’s Anvil.
“May I tell you the tale of it with the traditional dance?”
Luna nodded, her straight horn bobbing as she agreed, “Please do.”
Sha-Ja Shehan curtsied, lowering her curved horn in the bow. As she straightened, she gestured with a hoof and three musicians came near. There was a flutist, a drummer with a tabor and a lyrist with a smaller lyre of somewhat different construction than Carolan’s.
As she saw the lyre, Luna realized at once that she was seeing the results of a long tradition of instrument making. Very highly skilled instrument making.
The flute led off the piece with a long, sad note. The lyre joined in and the tabor produced an underbeat that tied the whole sorrowful piece together. Sha-Ja-Shehan began to move.
As she danced, she began a narrative:
Long ago, in a land long gone, a famine and drought emptied the fields, the orchards and the wells. Thirst and Starvation was the lot of many.
Our ancestors were the horses who followed a wise old horse named Rom. They were slaves. They were cast out to live or die.
A Trader came to Gyptia. He crossed the deadly desert of Celestia’s Anvil with a wagon filled with water, grain and sweet hay. It was a heavy load for one old donkey but he made a handsome profit of it. He left and returned three times.
It was Rom’s decision that we try to follow that elderly donkey back across the stones and sand to a land of plenty. It was a better decision than we knew then.
We became lost and were near to perishing among the trackless dunes and blazing hot stones of the Anvil. Marchhare, that old donkey found us, alone and dying.
He gave us of his supplies for trade and saved us all. We were too far into the desert to reach Gyptia again, even with his supplies to help.
With no thought of his lost profits, Marchhare turned the wagon and began the trek back to his land. We suffered from the sun and he tore an old wagon cover tarp to wide sashes that saved us from its heat.
The mountains rose above the desert. Old Marchhare was staggering in the traces by then. All of the food and water was gone. Our youngest and oldest were now his load. He pointed out a ridge of stone that cast good shade.
“My friends, the trip has been long. I am tired. I will rest there a while. Do you see the pass that is steep and has a shoulder like a gryphon’s head? Go there with all speed. In the pass is a spring of clear water and much good grass to eat. When I am rested, I will join you there.”
We knew then that our good friend and guide was dying. We begged him to take a place in his wagon but he would not. He settled himself in the shade and we left him.
We found the spring which we named the Water of Salvation, Sha-Ja-Shehan. For three days we lingered there, mourning the old donkey, our guide, Marchhare.
During the third day of our mourning, he walked into our camp. He was no longer gaunt with starvation as we had seen him last. He asked Rom, our leader, “My friend, that water looks good. May I drink of it with you?”
Rom replied, “My friend, you died. For all that you gave us, even life itself, you need never beg from us. We welcome you, though most might fear a ghost.”
Marchhare drank then, and ate with us. He has been our friend and guide from then to now.
The dance of Sha-Ja-Shehan ended on a joyous note and she was bowed deeply to the old donkey, Marchhare.
All of the Rom around let out a loud and joyous trill that ended as they all spoke in unison, “The Loved Dead Are Always With Us. None more loved than He!”
Marchhare looked down in embarrassment and sort of scratched the soil with a forehoof. He muttered, “I still say that I think I would have noticed something like dying!”
Luna and Celestia both raised hooves to their lips to suppress giggles.
Luna took the trouble to examine the many Rom about her. Celestia was very curious too. The Rom wore those sashes, which they now knew the origin of, but they had harnesses, too. Harnesses like a hard working Dray pony might wear while hauling a heavy wagon.
There was no question that the harnesses were made of leather. Tanned and treated, richly tooled and dyed, but LEATHER. Once a part of some living creature. That bothered her.
Even the Dancing Mares, like Sha-Ja-Shehan wore it. She thought about it carefully. These horses had become important enough to Luna that she would kill outright to protect them. To an Alicorn like Luna, who remembered too well the horrors of the Nightmare Wars, to openly own that long suppressed part of herself to save these pon - - no, horses it meant that they had touched something primal in her.
Her question needed care. The answer came clear to her. Turning to Marchhare, she asked, “Everywhere I look, I see your horses, even the foals, wearing beautiful harnesses. Why leather, though? Would not a specially hard woven heavy canvass do as well? It could be dyed and embroidered like your sashes.”
Before Marchhare could answer, Sha-Ja-Shehan stepped forward. “May I answer that?”
Luna nodded and said, “Please do, Sha-Ja-Shehan. I sense something of importance in this.”
The Dancer curtsied gracefully. “Canvass has been done. It will last, at best, two or three years. It stretches, wears and the whole of it simply begins breaking …”
A Guardspony interrupted, “Then you ain’t doing them right! I got ten harnesses for my workers back on my farm. They are ten years old and only two needs replacing!”
Marchhared butted in, “And you only use them a few days or a week at harvest and for field work every year! Maybe you use them for Market loads a few times a year too!
“A Rom harness is under heavy load most days. We do not get from fair to fair or market by some easy magic! We PULL. We Pull almost every day! Our Caravans are heavier than your puny farm loads too!”
Sha-Ja-Shehan went on, as if not interrupted, “This harness of mine, I got from my mother when she was dying. Mother had it as mating gift from her mother. Great Grandmother had it new as a gift on the occasion of her first mating. It was made by the famous harnessier Gran-Se-Danya. It is now over 120 years old and still needs only minor maintenance and regular oiling.”
Luna gestured Sha-Ja-Shehan close and asked, “May I see this harness up close?” The Dancer stepped gracefully forward.
Both Luna and Celestia were looking closely at the tooling, the perfectly shaped and worked rings and buckles that held it together at many junctions. The way that the leather was finished and dyed.
Even Celestia was impressed. Still a bit bothered, but impressed.
Instead of being judgmental, she asked, “Where do you find leather like this? Equestria needs it from time to time as a war material and it is really hard to get. Most of what we can find is from hunted wild animals and that is a difficult and unreliable source.”
Marchhare put out a lower lip comically as he considered how to answer the question. “We buy the hides. Usually what we buy are half hides so that the donors can be presentable at their funeral.
“We contract the purchase while the cow is still alive to enjoy the money or close enough to death that they want something to give to their heirs.
“I pity the cows. We Rom have it rough but we are at least free. Those poor cows are mostly serfs but slaves is closer to the truth of the matter. We give them fair value based on what we expect to realize from the leather after it is treated. In many cases it is enough to free them to change herds to be with family in other baronies. We do assist them all that we can within the laws.”
Luna frowned. “The cows? They are free. They have to be paid for their milk, processed cheese and butters.”
The old donkey nodded sarcastically. “Right. And where is there a house for a cow? Barns. Barns that they do not and are not allowed to own but do have to pay rent on. They are not allowed their own pastures and have to pay commons grazing charges. They are even required to use diverted water in the barns, with diversion charges. Most cows cannot earn enough to be out of debit.
“If they are in debit, they are restricted from moving. Don’t want to believe me? Check it out.”
Grimly, the listening Celestia said, “We will audit that situation. Not because we do not believe you. We will need proof to do anything about it.”
Several of Celestia’s Guards were looking uncomfortable. Luna saw it and nodded. She turned to Celestia and pointed back at the Guards. “The barons there, are confirming a lot of it.” She snickered. “I do not think that they meant to. Just that they could use some real discipline.”
Celestia showed that she had been paying more attention than was obvious. All that she did was say, “I saw it too, Luna.”
The Rom of the band of Sando was watching the Princesses carefully. He made up his mind about trusting them. “Marchhare, my dear friend, I need to speak to these Princesses, out of the hearing of any. I wish to discuss with them the color blue.”
Marchhare replied, “Be careful my friend, there are laws about that.”
“I know the laws, Marchhare. I have read them and will not break them in any way. If their offer to come to us to be Godmothers to your foals stands, they must know what I will tell.”
At that, Marchhare nodded sagely and got up off of the Guard Sargent that he had been sitting on the whole time. “Come, Sargent Hassock, we need to be out of earshot for this. And I have BIG ears!
“We could go to the booth of Sa-Inat the luthier and see how much a new lyre for Carolan will cost.”
Celestia, remembering the shattered wreckage of beautiful woodwork that she had seen Luna step past, said, “Order for him the best that can be made. I will pay for it. He was important enough for my Sister Luna to release the Embodiment of All Nightmares to protect him. His injuries will soon be a thing of the past.
“I may be able to repair the one that is broken, if I have all of the bits. I used to be very good at woodworking. It will take a long time to do. For that reason, buy him new and of the very best.”
Sha-Ja-Shehan curtsied to Celestia and said, “You are gracious, Princess. I shall go with Marchhare to help guide his choice.” She grinned mischievously and added, “The Ghost Who Guides needs guidance in this. He is a great drummer but he is LOST when it comes to strings!” She cheerfully flirted her red mane and tail as she joined Marchhare in getting out of earshot.
Celestia and Luna both turned to Celestia’s Guard and glared at them. Luna barely raised her voice as she snapped, “Back! Make it twenty paces until we are done!”
Their Major frowned but replied, “Yes, Princess. Permission to speak my concern?”
“Granted.”
“We may be too far away to prevent an attack on you. We may not have a unicorn’s magic but it only takes eyes to see that these Rom are very powerful unicorns. We fear for your safety.”
Luna softened at once. “My pardon, Major. You are correct in your fears that they are powerful unicorns. You are not correct that we are in danger from them. We do accept to ourselves all risk from this conversation, which is a matter of State.”
The Major, having voiced his concern and been heard, ordered, “Back Step! Hie! Two, Three, Four! Twenty paces!” Still facing the objects of their Guardianship, the formation backed up the twenty paces required of them.
“Now, Rom, you may proceed. We are as private as we can be here.”
Glancing about, Rom began, “I know the law about your Father, De Writer. None must prove to you who he is, if he be in a disguise of magic, of which he is a master. You had him as close as the Edict of Banishment allowed and lost him twice that I know of to that sort of proof.
“I am going to show you who he is NOT. We Rom are very familiar with your Father. He often visits our bands while on the road and teaches our foals their letters, arithmetic and history. He makes the subjects come alive. He helps us to foster our traditions and, with Marchhare’s help, does his best to keep us safe. He has been alive from the beginning, being some years older than you.
“These things we know. They are commonplace among the Rom. We live with him.”
Luna said skeptically, “You, yourself have pointed out that Father is a master of disguise. How sure are you that they are not the same old pony with a disguise?”
Rom smiled sadly, “I am certain. Marchhare is dead. He is our Ghost Who Guides. I have been to his Lake myself and seen his bones. I have Laid the Stones for him.” He stopped, biting lips and his breath heaving, tears leaking from his eyes.
He mastered himself. “We Rom have kept it a secret from Marchhare. He does not really believe himself a ghost. You have seen him jest about it.”
Luna, giving Rom a chance to recover himself further, asked, “You have been to his lake? I thought that he died in the midst of a desert.”
Rom smiled. “The word means a grave, as you say things. We came from desert horses. Paradise is a Lake of Pure Water, a plenty of sweet grass, ever fresh, fruits, shade from the sun and good things everywhere.
“Now, when a horse’s body dies, we bury it with a pot of clean, pure water, sweet hay and treats and we cover them gently with a fine cloth for the shade. We call it their Earthen Lake.
“Long ago, when there were only three bands of Rom, we began the tradition of a pilgrimage to Sha-Ja-Shehan, the Spring of Salvation. Secretly, we sent some out onto the Anvil. We found Marchhare’s bones exactly where and how tradition said that they would be.
“The ledge shades him at all times of day in every season. He still had his antique Pulling harness and canvass sashes on when he was first found.
“He chose his place and manner of passing. We did not change it. We gave him his pot of pure water, drawn from Sha-Ja-Shehan. We gave him the best of sweet browse and covered him with the cloth of shade. We Laid the Stones for him and left.”
Earnestly, he requested, “Please, never tell him. Every Pilgrim brings a pebble for the Laying of the Stones. We keep his water fresh. We re-shade him when the old cloth is worn.”
Luna was deeply moved. “You have done this? You have seen Marchhare’s bones? He died to save your horses two hundred years ago?”
Mutely, he nodded.
“Why then, does De Writer come among you and spend so much time with you? Do you know that?”
“We do. He is open about it. At first, before he realized that the Ghost Who Guides was among us, it was guilt. They were friends before Marchhare came to Gyptia. De Writer first suggested to Marchhare, who was a merchant selling goods from his cart, that the Gyptian famine offered a chance at large profits.
“The first two trips that Marchhare made bore out the prediction. De Writer never meant for Marchhare to die of thirst and starvation, saving us. He came to us trying to make amends. Then, when he found that his friend still existed, he was so glad that he stayed. They have been fast friends ever since.”
Old Marchhare, Sha-Ja-Shehan and the Guard Sargent came to the booth of Sa-Inat, the luthier. The rampage of Luna’s Guards had come before them, though not completely. The booth horse was cleaning up his shattered instruments. The ones only cracked or otherwise repairably damaged were already set aside for salvage.
Sa-Inat looked up as they approached and his face froze like a blizzard had just set in. He was staring at the Guard in open hostility. Marchhare spoke first.
“Sa-Inat, my friend we need a few things of you. First and foremost; a new lyre for Carolan. Make it the finest instrument that you can. Inlays and all to be of the best. While you are at it, other musicians lost flutes and drums that also need to be replaced.
“Second; we need to know the whole cost of the damage here. Include all of the business that you have lost as well as breakage, damage to booths and awnings.
“Tell every booth that suffered any harm at all to give the full cost to this Sargent of the Guard of Celestia. He will give all of our damages from the madness of Luna’s Guard to the Princesses. They have promised to make it all good.
“As earnest of that, the Princesses, working together, have already done important surgery on Carolan and both of the dancers who were hurt in the rampage.
“More, they are only just learning of our existence and are doing all that they can to learn what we may need.”
Sourly, Sa-Inat said, “The best thing that ANY noble can do is leave us alone! Look at this mess! It was all done by nobles with not a trace of respect for anything but their own privilege!”
Marchhare nodded, “True, Sa-Inat. That same rampage was stopped by Princess Luna. It took killing two of her own Guard to do it, but she did it. Just to save us, who are thought by some to be the lowest of low.
“Neither she nor Celestia think that way at all. We are citizens and to be treated as such. She made that point as she killed her own Guard Major.
“This fine Esquire behind me will take all of the reports of our damages back to the Princesses. I do believe that they will make the settlement before the Fair ends.
“Now, that Concert Lyre for Carlolan. A price please.”
Sa-Inat paused, thinking through the order. “That fine an instrument? About 275 golden bits. Might come a tiny amount higher or lower. It will depend on the availability of some rare woods that I will need in the inlays. I cannot control that cost. There are PONIES in the works!”
That last was said with such venom that the Guard Sargent took a small step back. Disapprovingly he asked, “What do you mean, PONIES in the works?”
Sa-Inat glared at him and retorted, “I have to do my best to get worthwhile supplies among the WONDERFUL things offered for my consideration! Things that are ALMOST as good as a PONY MADE WAGON WHEEL!”
The Sargent could see Sha-JA-Shehan nodding agreement with Sa-Inat. I stuck an oar in the rapidly muddying waters. “Why are you surprised, Sargent? How can US having a low opinion of dishonest suppliers of substandard goods be any sort of a jolt?
“You were there when the Princesses found out that you folks have been charging us Rom double tolls on the roads, charging illegal fees for the use of wayside camps and Fairground facilities and trying to force us to buy poorly put up food stuffs. Barred from your towns and cities, not even allowed to use horspitals when we are ill or injured. With treatment like that for TWO HUNDRED YEARS, how can you think that YOU deserve to be thought well of? What comedy troupe do you belong to?”
What we said had an unexpected effect. His brow furrowed as he thought and actually thought hard. Mouth formed in distaste, he said, “I see why you can feel so. I hope that you paint us with too broad a brush. From what I did hear and see today, I fear that you do not.
“I am innocent of those things, though more, I suspect, by luck than any other thing. I am the Esquire of Roan-Oak. We have no Royal Road to my tiny hamlet. We have only a dozen houses. My Manor has but ten rooms. I give my tenants a weekly market day but we rarely draw any outsiders.
“I do spend as much as I can on our road to Dappleton but it is not up to Royal standards. Dappleton will not allow my road to enter their town itself, though that would be better for trade and shorten our road by a mile. We have cleared a track to Clyde’s Dale but it is not really worth calling a road at all.”
He gave us all an earnest stare. “If, somehow, you could find your way there, to Roan-Oak on our Wednesday Market, we will give you welcome and the fairest prices on all those things that we do have.”
If ever I saw an look of happy evil pass between two horses, it was the look that went between Sha-Ja-Shehan and Sa-Inat. Together, they said, “We can take YOUR road and AVOID the Dappleton Fair as well as their exit toll? We can get supplies that are not spoiling?”
They turned to him as one and demanded, “Tell us the route to your Hamlet of Roan-Oak!”
I think that he was very surprised. He huddled with them for a few moments.
Sa-Inat came out of the huddle a happy horse. Sha-Ja_Shehan did a few happy dance steps. A far more cooperative Sa-Inat began listing damages and working out details of a new lyre and some other replacement instruments.
I was keeping an eye on the situation back by the Princesses. I saw the conversation go to my “Earthen Lake.” It really helps, sometimes to know lip reading. And I do.
I remembered that time, two hundred years ago, perfectly. Just like every other moment of my life since I was given the Orb of the Ages and Twins to raise. After I had left Rom and his followers, in my gaunt and starveling guise, I used the Orb to locate a genuine old donkey share cropper who had died alone in the traces while tending a field.
Being able to be ANYWHERE that the present instant of time is occurring is handy. I was able to take that nameless old donkey and bring his body to the shady ledge out on Celestia’s Anvil. In the two hundred years since I left him as a decoy, I had never even looked to see if the Rom or something else had found him.
It touched my heart to know that he was so well taken care of. Donkeys of that time had it as rough, in different ways, as we Rom do now. Society always has a bottom rung that everypony else can look down on. Back then, it was donkeys. Now, it is Rom. At least that one donkey is getting as fair a deal as possible.
I did make a mental note to check out this hamlet of Roan-Oak at the earliest opportunity. Among other things, the chance to really stick it to Dappleton was almost irresistible. Some of the worst supplies to be found anywhere were in the barrels and casks or Dappleton merchants. They know it and laugh about it.
That road of the Squire’s might be a real sticking point. Can’t have caravans getting bogged down. Still, even a “fair weather market” had to be better for us than the Dappleton Fair.
Better for the Esquire’s tennants, too. Rom are always a big draw. Ought to boost his market’s revenues considerably.
Coming back to the present, I was pleased to see that the Esquire of Roan-Oak was gathering quite a list of damages. A fast glance showed that it was all genuine too. (It really helps to be the inventor of writing, even if it was a LONG time ago.)
He was not content to merely let the Rom come to him. He was actively seeking out the damages. I knew from seeing him in action, that we had found that rare treasure, a noble (if a minor one) who was actually a decent sort to anypony or horse.
The secret conference was over and we all trooped back. The Squire presented his list of damages. One of the other Sargents whispered behind his hoof to another, “What a sucker. They really conned him!”
Luna turned her head sharply toward the speaker, who sensibly shut up. She returned her attention to the list. Her comment was, “I do not see the stolen items here in the damages.”
Esquire Roan-Oak replied, “I mentioned that, Princess. They all told me the same. They said that they saw you give the stolen things to the Rom of the Band of Sando. They know that they will get them back and so did not list them as damages.”
Luna nodded sagely and observed, “Honest of them. The rest of this list?”
“I personally examined each thing shown. It is a true list except for the business loss. I accepted their word on that, as I found not one other false or exaggerated claim.”
Celestia simply handed over a fat purse and told him, “Take the list and see to the proper payment of each claim. If proper change cannot be made, pay them the next higher sum.”
He took the purse, the list, and left on his errand. I had no doubt that it would be done exactly as requested.
In fact, he returned sooner than I expected. He had a receipt list, the damage list and a count of the purse before and after. Celestia glanced at it and said, “Perfect. Your figures and counts are most accurate. We thank you, Roan-Oak.”
Sha-Ja-Shehan curtsied to the Princesses and said gravely, “We of the Rom are deeply indebted to you. If those Guard who ran amok were brought by you, yet you stopped them. Further, in our history, none has ever made good any great harm done to us.
“I have consulted with Roms of Sando, De-Innis, and Na-Sari. We have for you a gift, if your Highnesses will accept it. This is our own offering from our hearts. I hope that Marchhare will approve because we had no chance to consult him.
“The leather worker Sa-Tinat was quickly commissioned and we have for you, these.”
In her magic, Sha-Ja-Shehan held out for Luna and Celestia, a pair of richly tooled, set with golden buckles, studs, rings and rivets, a pair of Freedoms. One was dyed in the richest, dark blue, strikingly setting off the brilliant tan of the worked leather. The other, similar in all details, was dyed a brilliant white.
Luna stared longingly at hers and asked, “Is it true that only Rom wear these?”
Sha-Ja-Shehan nodded her curved horn as she said, “That is so. Many have come to us, over the years, and earned their Freedoms. You are the first that we have come to, to ask if you will be Rom.”
I could see a pair of hearts breaking. They wanted the Freedoms so badly but had seen the problem at once.
I stepped forward and said, “The Rom do not go closer to Canterlot than the shadow of its, walls. In this they follow my guidance. That is due to both the laws against us doing so and keeping my beloved horses safe.
“The Rom both want you and need you. I can see that it runs the other way as well. The solution here, is simple.
“As much as the Rom want you, the whole Kingdom of Equestria needs you, too. When in Canterlot, be the Princesses that we all need. When you can, wear the Freedom of the Rom on Equestria’s Roads.”
Midnight magic reached out without furter hesitation and settled Luna’s Freedom into place and buckled it to fit. Celestia’s many hued magic did the same.
I will swear that as those buckles fastened, I saw ages of the Weight of the Crown fall away.
–The End–
