Thieves, Spirits, and Romantics

by Impossible Numbers

Rating: everyone
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Matilda, Fluttershy, Adventure, Cranky Doodle Donkey
Length: 38172

Saddle Arabia. Land of marvels. Land of a thousand secrets. A fantastic vacation spot for Twilight and her friends. Unfortunately, it's also the den of cutthroats and monsters. Even Saddle Arabian law is less forgiving than Equestria's…

Due to a Pinkie-related mix-up, Twilight et al end up sharing a vacation with a thoroughly unimpressed Cranky Doodle Donkey and a much more laid-back Matilda. Yet it's hard to stay mad for long in a city full of national treasures, exotic hybrids, and glorious histories.

Unless, of course, a pair of criminals decide to wreck up the place. Saddle Arabia is not all romance and sightseeing, after all. And it's not just thieves and bandits that make life difficult; the local constabulary are net exporters of difficulty in and of themselves.

Continuity: This fic is set during the middle of Season Three.

Published 2017-10-14 20:40:06 UTC
Last updated 2017-10-16 21:46:00 UTC

Arabia Phoenix, the City of Wonders

Twilight Sparkle woke up one hour sooner than she was supposed to. And in a hammock.

The hotel had luxury beds available, but she’d wanted the real deal. In the olden days, the Saddle Arabians had slept on hammocks so that, at a moment’s notice, they could flip round and be standing ready for battle within seconds. Between the minotaurs, the donkeys, the camels, the zebras, and the scorpion ponies, they’d had a lot of battling to do.

Fresh as an oasis to weary hearts, Twilight’s brain bloomed with hope. This was going to be the big day. Exploration day. How she’d stayed up for it, silently working out her plans until Spike had thumped the wall and asked her to stop pacing.

She went over to the glowing brown of the threadbare curtains and tossed them aside.

Beyond the porthole-of-a-window, she saw the adobe towers of Arabia Phoenix. Like snow-capped mountains, they defied the heat haze below, the timber stalls and humble tarps and grand verandas of the streets below. Arched windows boasted of the country’s culture with their decorative shutters, their curly edges, and the pictographic writing so complex that each letter looked like one page of an illustrated medieval manuscript.

Between the white peaks and the brown shelters, the desert gold was haunted by a rich lustre.

Twilight cast her spell; her pre-packed saddlebags landed on her back, her notes and maps slid in after them, her hotel door slid aside, and a final flash transformed her hedgehog bed-head into its usual straight-haired mane. Her enthusiasm reached the next door over before she did.

“Spike!” she called. “Are you awake yet?”

After some muffled shuffling, he mumbled, “I am now.”

“Today’s the day! City-wide tour day, remember?”

“‘s not s’posed to start…” He yawned. “Start for ‘nother hour.”

“That’s one extra hour taking in the cultural sights, sounds, and smells of Arabia Phoenix! Come on, Spike! The richest city in Saddle Arabia awaits! Don’t tell me you’d rather roll over and go back to sleep.”

A muttering approached the door along with the pitter-patter of small feet. Spike slid the door aside partway, just enough to poke his head out and rub his drooping eyelids.

“You kept me up last night,” he mumbled. “I’m not in the mood for anything but a luxury bed.”

Twilight peered past him. Indeed, his room was far more luxurious than her peasant’s imitation: the four-poster bed bubbled with cushions; rugs and drapes scorched the room with swirling colours; he even had a writing desk and full-length mirror, next to a wardrobe like a monolith and a bowl of gemstones the size of an upturned door. When the Felix Hotels had offered a tailored service, Spike had made sure he’d gotten the works.

“But Spike,” said Twilight as kindly as she could, “Pinkie wants everyone to be there when we go around. You know she’d hate to leave you out. And think of all the history and prosperity and culture you’ll be missing out on! This place is a treasure trove.”

Spike shrugged. “Sorry. Dragon’s gotta do what a dragon’s gotta do. Maybe tomorrow, Twilight?”

“Tomorrow! Excellent! I’ll draw up the schedule while I’m out and about.”

Not unkindly, Spike patted her on the foreleg. “Don’t put yourself out. Just have some fun. You can tell me all about it when you –” He yawned again, showing off his teeth and tonsils with the effort. “– when you get back tonight. Dinner’s on me, maybe?”

One quick hug and two “goodbye’s” later, he slid the door shut and she made her way across the landing to the stairs, admiring the tapestries along the wall.

The others stood about in the main lobby, or in Rainbow Dash’s case hovered below the chandelier. Pinkie spotted her halfway down the stairs and leaped forwards, briefly blocking the foot of the case.

“I woke everyone as soon as I could!” she said, bouncing on the spot. “Ooh, I couldn’t sleep for the excitement! Are you excited? Are ya?”

“Even more than you are.” Twilight summoned a map from her saddlebag. “There are so many places I want to visit: the Library of Hipparion, the Gilded Galleries, the Scorpony Pit –”

“The Haymaker’s Restaurant, the Epic Poetry Café, the Falcon’s Night Club!” Pinkie pointed over to a random group of zebras at the reception desk. “I’ve been asking around. You wanna have a good time and some good eats, those are the places you just can’t beat!”

Twilight frowned. She checked the map. Food hadn’t occurred to her. A quick check along the penned line, however, yielded a smile from her.

“Well, the Falcon’s Night Club is out of the way by over an hour, but we should be able to fit the other two in the schedule provided we spend no longer than twenty minutes apiece…”

“Great! I knew you were the pony with the plan!” Pinkie looked over her shoulder. “Hey, guys! Twilight says we can visit two out of three. That ain’t bad, huh?”

Unlike the tall and stretching Twilight or the bouncy heights of Pinkie Pie, the others slumped where they stood. Even Rainbow Dash sagged under barely flapping wings.

“Ah’m… real excited, Pinkie.” Applejack knocked her Stetson back and forced a smile below her puffy eyes. “Jus’… jus’ give me a few minutes…”

Rarity went to the reception desk and peered at her reflection behind the blinking pony on the other side. “Yes, we do share your boundless enthusiasm, Pinkie. Ugh, you call that a curl? One moment.”

Fluttershy shuffled out from behind Applejack. “Where’s Spike? Isn’t he…” She covered her yawn. “Oh, excuse me. I guess I didn’t sleep as nicely as I was hoping to. I don’t usually handle strange beds well.”

“He’s sleeping in,” said Twilight, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Uh… something kept him awake last night too.”

“Oh, the poor thing. Maybe yesterday’s travel was all too much for him.”

From overhead, Rainbow gave a bark of a laugh that made the zebras stiffen and glance up. “Yeah, or maybe some pony walking around all night kept him up.” She cast Twilight a suspicious glare. “You were right over my room, you know.”

“Oh.” Twilight burned around the cheeks. “S-Sorry about that.”

“Well, we’re all here now.” Applejack glanced about. “Ah guess we’ll feel a little better once we’re out and about, girls. Might as well make the most of the free time.”

“Wait!” Pinkie skidded to a halt beside her. “We’re not all here! Where’s Cranky and Matilda!?”

Applejack groaned. “Pinkie, Ah’m pretty sure they’re comin’. You invited ‘em, remember?”

“Yeah, but only as a treat! I thought it’d be nice for them to get away, but I meant to get away from Equestria! I didn’t mean to get away from us! Oh, what if I didn’t wake them up hard enough!? What if they’re really, really mad because I banged on the door like this –”

She zipped over to the counter and thumped the wood hard enough to make pens dance, startling Rarity from her staring at the mirror.

“– and shouted for them like this –”

She swelled with the effort of gasping. Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash exchanged glances and covered their ears.

Just in time, Twilight focused her magic. Pinkie’s lips glowed as the swollen bag of air rose up her throat and hit the blockage and almost cracked her cheeks. A faint muffling held behind the telekinetic grip.

“I’m sure they appreciate the gesture,” said Twilight. “But if you’re really worried, I can go check on them. If you like, that is.”

“Mm hm?” said Pinkie, lips still sealed.

Fluttershy let go of her ears. “We’ll wait outside, then?”

“Well, I’m not hanging around,” said Rainbow Dash. “I’m gonna get a few laps ‘round the city. Betcha I’ll have done twenty before you slowpokes make it past the threshold!” A zip of rainbow, and the air was down one pegasus.

Their gazes turned to Rarity, who was now adjusting her eyelashes against her reflection.

“Go right ahead,” she said. “Perfection should not be rushed.”

Only once Pinkie’s bag of air slid back down her throat did Twilight release the spell. She passed the others and slipped by a waiting minotaur to cross the next corridor, mind sparking and crackling with the effort of reconciling a Twilight-tailored day schedule to at least five radically different minds.

Well, Fluttershy would probably like the Scorpony Pit, but she’s happy to wait until later… Maybe Rainbow would prefer to see the camel races, but we’ll still have to wait until after lunch for the best of those… Now, Rarity shouldn’t need more than one hour in the Gilded Galleries, so if we move that time over to the marketplace…

Guiltily, she realized Cranky and Matilda hadn’t crossed her thoughts once.

Which was silly, of course. According to Pinkie, the original idea was that the two could have a nice, relaxing vacation together. It was typical Pinkie thinking. Two donkeys who wanted to enjoy time to themselves? Get them tickets to a vacation in Saddle Arabia, one of the best cultural hotspots for donkey-kind. Then invite herself over to make sure it went swimmingly. Then invite her friends over, because a good thing should always be shared around.

Oh, she’d been cunning, had Pinkie Pie. She’d mentioned the local Scorpony population to Fluttershy, the rare golden apple varieties to Applejack, the exotic fashion to Rarity, and the fact that dragons were loved all over Saddle Arabia to none other than Spike himself. Only with Twilight’s help had she dug up the Wonderbolts history for Rainbow Dash, who otherwise had turned her nose up at the offer of a ticket.

And she got me too, Twilight thought.

Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Of course I don’t mind coming along, especially with all the others too. It’s not as if Pinkie would do anything other than try to give other ponies a good time; she hasn’t got a bad bone in her body.

Nevertheless, Twilight couldn’t shake the prickly, cold feeling that she’d somehow been led. Led too easily, at that.

She’d sent letters to Celestia asking if she could have a… well, she’d called it a “sabbatical”, though simply because calling it a “vacation” sounded like shirking. Celestia’s reply had been short and unambiguous. Twilight wondered if her tutor had chuckled and shaken her head while writing it. That was all too easy to imagine.

By the time she reached Room 018, she walked right past it and had to double back.

Instantly, the door opened. Twilight’s hoof was raised to knock; she lowered it at once.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” muttered Cranky Doodle Donkey. He glared up at her. “Figures. Pinkie sent you, didn’t she?”

Surprised, Twilight realized she was gaping. “Um… Yes, yes she did.”

“And not five minutes since she knocked the first time.” Cranky shook his head. “At least it could be worse. Could’ve waited one minute before knocking on the door again. You know it’s an hour early, right?”

Twilight grasped at the question like a life belt. “Uh… I do, but I couldn’t sleep, and neither could Pinkie.”

“Twilight Sparkle, isn’t it?”

Although they’d noticed each other around Ponyville once or twice, and obviously had shaken hooves at the port, it occurred to Twilight that actual sustained conversation between them was basically nonexistent. Even before they’d boarded the airship to this city, their best dialogue had half-consisted of “Hello”, “Hi”, and “I’m (Insert Name Here)”.

“We’re all waiting outside.” That sounded a bit accusatory to her ears, so Twilight added, “Pinkie was just wondering if you’d like to, uh, come join us?”

“Look, I heard you’re supposed to be the smart one, so I ain’t gonna sugar-coat it. Frankly, I don’t want to. Not with half a dozen mares and a dragon. I got nothing against you, kid, but I’m pretty sure we signed up for a vacation for two.”

“Cranky!” A more feminine donkey hit him across the haunches, and Cranky stood aside to let Matilda poke her head out. “Be polite. That’s Twilight Sparkle you’re talking to! Protégé of Princess Celestia? Magical prodigy and element-bearer? You show her some proper respect, you silly old thing!”

Twilight stiffened under the shower of titles. “I don’t mind, really. I’m just your regular unicorn, out on vacation, right?”

Matilda beamed at her. “You’ll have to excuse him, Miss Sparkle. Cranky’s a sweet jack, but if you ask me, he spent a little too long roughing it in the great outdoors when he was younger.”

“Matilda!” Cranky writhed as only a lover could when faced with the coercive powers of his significant other. “I was just being honest. It’s not a crime, is it? I told her I got nothing against her. And you gotta admit Pinkie gave us some false advertising about this ‘romantic getaway’ –”

Upon catching her sidelong glower, he wisely slapped his lips shut at once.

“Don’t worry, Miss Sparkle.” Matilda bowed her head graciously. “Tell dear Pinkie Pie we’ll be with her shortly. I personally wouldn’t miss this for the world!”

Twilight bowed her head too, figuring it was the safest thing to do. “I’ll let her know, uh…” What’s her surname? “Ma’am?”

“Oh, ‘ma’am’! Aren’t you such a star! But you can call me Matilda, Miss Sparkle. We won’t be long. Toodle-oo!”

The door slid back into place. Not since she’d once visited her own grandmother back in Canterlot had Twilight felt like she could fry eggs on her own cheeks. She shuffled where she stood, remembering somewhat shamefully that she’d overlooked Matilda when they were shaking hooves at the port.

Come on, Twilight! You’re not any better than anyone. “Protégé”? “Magical prodigy”? “Element-bearer”? Those are mere traits. Today, I’m just Twilight, out with my good friends. Nothing’s more important than that, right?

Nevertheless, and as she passed the waiting minotaur in the corridor, she made a mental note not to use any Canterlot manners while out and about. She didn’t want to provoke anyone into being awestruck if she could help it.

Blue skies peered between the soaring rooftops of Arabia Phoenix, a city baked like a loaf and browning gently. Washing lines crisscrossed the street, window shutters guarded the sanctuary of shadowy indoors, and exotic birds – winged jewels of many varieties – burst into flocks and swarmed over rooftops for less easily disturbed roosting ledges.

Had it been any other city, the three-storey buildings would have ended with a normal road, but here was the Trench Marketplace. Sandstone paths ran alongside the buildings on each half of the street, but then gave way to protective railings and the occasional steps descending further. Another three-storeys down, past sheer slopes, another pathway marked the bottom of the trench, and then the road proper joined both sides.

Dust bloomed upwards from rumbling carts. Lines of ponies, Saddle Arabian horses, minotaurs, zebras, and donkeys ran along the upper pavements and swarmed at the bottom of the trench. Market stalls creaked with merchandise on either side.

Amid the bulging bags and striding figures, Cranky Doodle Donkey trundled alongside Matilda, gritting his teeth in case he got bumped for the umpteenth time.

A minotaur crossed his path, and he almost knocked Matilda over in his haste to dodge it. To his surprise, she was beaming around and extending polite nods and greetings to random strangers, who even more surprisingly beamed and nodded and greeted her back.

“Well,” she said when he raised his eyebrow at her, “it’s just like Pinkie says, isn’t it? No matter where you are, there’s nothing wrong with being friendly.”

“Come on,” he whispered, glancing ahead. “Let’s slip away when they’re not looking. Just the two of us, like we planned to begin with.”

Yet she gave him such a stern look that he returned to his gloomy trundling.

Up ahead, the two he recognized as Applejack and Rarity ambled on, the former firmly holding her Stetson in place against the jostling, the latter gasping and blinking at the birds flying overhead. The two pegasi flapped above – Rainbow and Flutters, he guessed – both with eyes closed and the wash of a breeze ruffling their manes. He just knew Pinkie Pie was leading, though Twilight was only hampered because she had a map hovering before her nose.

“OK,” she said, drowning out the footfalls and murmurs of the crowd, “our first stop is the Epic Poetry Café for a light breakfast. Remember, we’ve only got twenty minutes, so don’t order anything that needs to be cooked…”

“Ha! No chance if Pinkie Pie’s ordering!” Rainbow Dash laughed.

“Heck, Ah don’t need no breakfast,” said Applejack. “Ah actually wouldn’t mind seein’ the Golden Noble Apple Orchards they got out here. That sounds like fun.”

“It certainly has its attractions,” said Rarity, who giggled as a particularly scintillating swallow swooped past. “But might I inquire as to the placement of the Paradise Museums in all this? They have a rare collection of Xanthusian silk gowns. I’d love to get but a peek at such refined specimens!”

Twilight checked her list. “Sorry, girls. I couldn’t fit them in today. They’re too far out of our way.”

“When do we get to see the Scorpony Pit?” said Fluttershy. “If you don’t mind my asking?”

“That’s scheduled for after lunch, but don’t worry! I’ve planned a full hour at that destination.”

“Oh, only an hour?” Fluttershy slumped under her flapping wings.

“Sorry, but we don’t have a lot of time for everything.”

“Then why don’t we just do what we wanna do?” Rainbow juddered; next moment, she hovered backwards, inches ahead of Twilight. “I’ve only got two or three things I wanna do, and I’ve only heard one so far.”

“But the schedule was designed to maximize our enjoyment while including everyone in a shared experience.” Twilight waved the map about. “We agreed, remember?”

“I didn’t. Besides, I’m not stopping you, am I?”

“We can discuss this over breakfast –”

“Come on! What’s so bad about splitting up for a bit?”

Cranky grunted as a lofty Saddle Arabian horse bumped into him and apologised at once. Soon, he could make out no words while Twilight and Rainbow talked over each other.

“Still think this was a good idea?” he muttered to Matilda.

“Oh, friends always want to do different things,” she replied. “I think it’s sweet of them to take all this time and effort for us.”

“But Matilda, I didn’t ask them to. All I wanted was to give you what you deserved all those decades ago. Now you’re here with me, maybe I could even show you what kinds of places I visited when I was travelling.”

“You soppy old romantic, you.”

Cranky coughed. “Well, that and Pinkie’s paying for the whole thing. Might as well milk it for all it’s worth.”

“Ha!” Matilda nudged him. “You always were looking out for a free lunch. Remember how I found you stuffing your face at the buffet table at the Gala? You looked like you hadn’t seen a cooked meal in years.”

“Yeah, but at least I could waltz with dignity afterwards, Miss Four Left Hooves.”

“Cranky! I was out of practice. It’s not my fault Mother cut off my allowance for ballroom dance classes.”

“Uh huh,” said Cranky with a grin. “So it was my fault you had one too many fermented grape juice beverages, was it? I’d never seen a jenny drink so much. You emptied a barrel.”

“And I still kept on trucking! So don’t you come at me with that, you old hack, you.”

Checking none of the mares ahead would notice, Cranky allowed himself a small chuckle. At times like this, he felt like he had two pasts, one spent on the road, and the other jumping from the Gala, across the decades, to the moment when he’d come to Ponyville and seen the face he remembered so well.

For the first time, he didn’t care that they were being bumped by a gaggle of zebra tourists, half-blinded by flashing cameras, and gabbled at in some Zebra-esque lingo which probably translated to, “Excuse me, could you tell me the way to the lavatory, please?” An impish urge seized him. He glanced ahead to the group.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Just the two of us. I’ll show you some of the most amazing sights this side of the Desert. I stood on the exact spot where the explorer Tea Leaf Lawmaker gave his big speech to the Saddle Arabian tribes.”

“You never!” Matilda giggled.

“I did.”

“No way!” shouted Pinkie.

Cranky came this close to having a heart attack. He yelled so loudly that citizens around him jumped and spun around.

“PINKIE!” he roared. “This is a private conversation!”

“Is that the very same spot where he dropped his bubble pipe too? ‘Cause I’d love to see that! Is it still there?”

“Matilda! You deal with her! I’m going to strangle her in a minute!”

“Cranky! Don’t be rude.” Nevertheless, she swapped places with Cranky, who glared over her withers at the unstoppable smile that showed off too many teeth. “Pinkie, would you be a dear and keep a Pinkie Promise for us?”

Pinkie gasped so sharply that Cranky winced for his ears’ sakes. “Are you planning on sneaking away all by yourselves?”

“No, not sneaking. We don’t want to hurt your feelings, or your friends’. Cranky and I would just like to spend some time together, if that’s OK with you?”

Briefly, Cranky saw Pinkie’s mouth twist with uncertainty. She peered at the sky as though trying to divine an answer from the pure blue. To his relief, she nodded, eyes narrowing, mouth a slit.

Up ahead, Twilight’s and Rainbow’s voices settled down again. A caravan of camels sliced through the group, forcing Applejack, Rarity, Cranky, and Matilda to stop for a few seconds. Pinkie simply blundered through a convenient gap between two camels, apparently oblivious to any obstruction.

“Twilight?” he heard Pinkie say over the grunting of the last camel. “I know you really, really wanted to have this super-special awesome fun-day with us, and I for one love you for it. But could we, maybe, if that’s OK with you, try something different today? Just this once? We could follow the schedule tomorrow instead. That’ll make you happy, right?”

Out of nowhere, a trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat bumped into him. Cranky brayed.

“Lousy crowds,” he muttered. Aloud he said, “Sorry.”

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, you jerk!” snapped the mare behind her sunglasses. She vanished into the crowd.

Cranky grunted. “Such manners. Jackass.”

“Cranky! Mind your language.” Matilda cocked one of her long ears.

“Well, who wears a trench coat in this heat? I’m surprised she could see anything over that oversized collar.”

“That’s still no excuse for being grumpy. Think like Pinkie Pie. Be a good friend.”

“If I thought like Pinkie Pie, I’d bounce off the walls shrieking nonsense.” But he regretted it as soon as he said it, and not just because Matilda’s glare was a dagger.

“I know, I know,” he added hastily. “She’s just thinking what’s best for us. If it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t have found each other. I owe her a lot. I get it. Only sometimes, I wish she’d be a little less shouty and a little more respectful.”

“Hm,” said Matilda coldly.

“Besides, she’s a dreamer. You wanna get anywhere, you gotta be a realist first.”

“You were quite the dreamer once,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, well, I travelled. Dreams look a little less rosy once you’ve lived most of ‘em.”

The second debate of Twilight Sparkle came to an end. She and Pinkie Pie nodded and turned to face all except Rainbow Dash, who shadowed her, forelimbs folded tightly.

“All right,” said Twilight, and all of them stepped out of the main road and sheltered under the trench’s shade, “I’ll acknowledge we all had our own plans for today. Honestly, I’d like us to stick together as much as possible, but I don’t want to force anyone. So… if you want to do your own thing, then Pinkie and I agree that it’d be best to let you do so. For today.”

Yet her ears drooped so much that no one spoke for a long while. Cranky felt a wriggle of guilt in his chest. Not much, because long years dealing with hundreds of faces had worn most of his responses down through sheer physical erosion. Still, he felt the urge to say, “I changed my mind, kid. You want a day as a group, we’ll handle it.”

“We are joining up again, right?” said Rainbow Dash. “We could talk about all the cool stuff we did.”

“We’ll make a journal!” Pinkie hopped up and down on the spot. “The Vacation Vault! All our cherished memories locked safely in a safe!”

“Yeah,” said Applejack, nodding. “Jus’ ‘cause we’re not together don’t mean we can’t share the pleasure around.”

“I concur.” Rarity allowed herself one gracious nod in turn. “Once we’ve enjoyed our own things, we’ll be better placed to enjoy everyone else’s afterwards.”

“And maybe we’ll like what we hear so much,” said Fluttershy, “that we’ll be really excited to go together another day. Oh, just thinking about spending all the time in the world with those amazing Scorponies makes me wanna… wanna shout it to the rooftops.”

“Whoa there, Flutters.” Applejack chuckled. “Don’t outshout Pinkie, now.”

“Cranky? Matilda?” said Twilight.

Cranky gave a spasm at hearing his name so suddenly. Beside him, Matilda straightened up attentively, and after a fashion he copied her stance. Best to show willing, he felt.

“You’re the main beneficiaries of Pinkie’s vacation. Would you be happy with that arrangement? Pinkie and I would be more than happy to follow your leads,” said Twilight, folding up her map and returning it to her saddlebag.

“Oh,” said Cranky. “Uh… sure… sure, why not?”

“You’re very thoughtful, Miss Sparkle. Of course we don’t mind. I’d rather you girls enjoyed yourselves than felt obliged to hobble your holidays on our account.” Matilda beamed at Cranky. “So, where to first?”

“Uh…”

“It’s settled, then,” Twilight said. “Shall we meet at the Café in… oh, let’s say three hours?”

Murmurs of assent ran around the circle. Rainbow was already a blur disappearing into the blue. Cranky watched as, one by one, the ponies separated and were lost to the crowds.

Hm, he thought. Matilda’s right. Maybe I do need to lighten up a bit. After all, I was only travelling in the first place to find someone very important to me. Obviously, I wasn’t going to be skipping along like a little lamb. But now she’s here…

“Well, Cranky?” said Matilda. “The floor’s all yours. What would you like to show me first?”

Shed a few years off your life, Cranky. I can be young again. And the grin of another life dawned across his mouth.

“The time of our lives, Matilda. When I’m done giving you the million-bit tour, you won’t want to leave this place.”

Djinn and Scorponies

Unable to locate the local apple orchards on the map, Applejack scrunched it up, shoved it back into her saddlebag, and strolled onwards. She followed Rarity up the steps, on the basis that at least the mare’s choices would guarantee some good sights first.

She wasn’t disappointed. Paradise Museum sang its own praises, welcoming them with the gentle swash of a fountain like a wedding cake, with the spicy scents of exotic flowers and the tingle of tambourines and unknown string instruments from the entertainers outside. Applejack glanced up to a ceiling full of geometrical lines and edges, yet all were arranged in so many fashions – honeycombs, spirals, radiating beams – that for once she wondered if this was what Twilight felt like whenever she cracked open a mathematics book.

“Now that is pretty,” she said.

Rarity clicked her tongue impatiently. “One day, dear Applejack, I shall have to introduce you to the finer points of artistic criticism.”

“Din’t know you were an architect.” Applejack grinned. “So what’s your critical take on it?”

At least Rarity had the decency to blush. “Yes, well, this is all about the Xanthusian silk gowns. I must confess the… uh…” She glanced up. “The architectural delights are a bit beyond me.”

“Pretty though, ain’t they?”

“I bow to your good taste.”

Further in, arched corridors led them along all manner of paintings. Applejack squinted at each one in the hopes that this would ignite some artistic criticism-ery inside her. She could obviously tell them apart – that was a portrait of a Saddle Arabian with a turban, that was a caravan of camels rising over the dunes, that was just a bunch of yellow-and-blue shapes crisscrossing each other – but all she could think was, That’s pretty. That’s OK. Don’t get that one. Nice, though. Don’t like that one much; what’s the point of painting a bunch of nonsense shapes, anyway?

The next corridor led to a large room that could’ve been the beginnings of a maze; corners and projecting walls suggested that an overhead view of the room plan would’ve been an artwork in itself, albeit a geometrical one. Display cases lined the walls, and a few Saddle Arabian horses and minotaurs peered through them in various states of wide-eyed excitement, pouting polite interest, and saggy-shouldered boredom.

“Aha!” Rarity surged forwards and immediately placed herself before a tall case containing dresses. “Let me see… Oh, as you were. These are Baliosian silks. Aw, I would’ve preferred the Xanthusian. Applejack, be a dear and let me know if you see any Xanthusians.”

“OK,” said Applejack, who was wondering how on earth she was supposed to tell. She peered through the glass. “You’re not wanting these, then?”

“Certainly not! Just look at the things!”

Applejack did so.

She’d picked up from somewhere – probably Rarity herself – that Saddle Arabian dresses often told stories. For the most part, she didn’t get it, unless those stories were about crescent moons and diamond shapes and the significance of blue and silver. Abstract thinking wasn’t alien to her, but then neither was French, and all she could say about that was that she’d know it if she heard it. She didn’t know what it meant.

These dresses were different. They were black except for one part, give or take the flame-like edging on the sleeves and hems. On their chests, a pony-shaped creature reared up, crimson coat set off against a gigantic gold-threaded fire. Both the creature’s eyes were gold.

Its hooves flared with horse-feathers that resembled flames in their own right, and might have been actual flames. Beneath the triumphant rearing creature, a line of ponies in shackles shuffled across the waist, heads down, some with black patches that she hoped weren’t meant to be scorch marks; they appeared at random on their bodies.

“What in the world is that?” she said.

Rarity’s reflection on the glass leaned down and squinted. “It says they’re evil spirits. Der-jinni, or something.”

“A genie?” Applejack shivered at the golden eyes. “That thing?”

“A der-jinni. It says so right here, look.”

Applejack did so. Not that she was any kind of linguist, but the name rang a bell. “Ah think Twilight mentioned ‘em once, and the ‘D’ is s’posed to be silent,” said Applejack. “But Ah thought genies were s’posed to be nice and grant wishes an’ stuff.”

“I’d hate to think what kind of wishes that one is granting!” Rarity turned her nose up at it. “Oh, let’s just keep moving. Merely looking at it makes me feel nauseated.”

“You mean ‘nauseous’, right?” Nevertheless, Applejack followed her further along the wall.

“Oh, I hope the Xanthusian silk gowns aren’t too far away. I wanted to make sketches.”

“Tryin’ out a new fashion at the Carousel Boutique? Well, that’s a mighty fine work ethic you got there, Rarity. Ah always said you can learn a heck of a lot from lookin’ around for new ideas.”

“One does what one can.” Rarity flicked her curled locks and a smile bloomed on her muzzle. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not off to see the orchards yourself.”

“Oh, golden apples are all right, but they can’t beat the Golden Delicious we got back home. Besides, Ah din’t want to turn this into a busmare’s holiday. Work and play shouldn’t mix.”

For a moment, Rarity stopped and eyed her up. Applejack got one raised eyebrow for her troubles.

“But didn’t you just say,” said Rarity, “that you admired that kind of work ethic? As in the one I’m exhibiting right now?”

“Well, yeah, but… uh…” There was a way to make it make sense, she knew. She simply couldn’t think what it was. “Well, apples ain’t fickle like fashion. Apples is apples, come tomorrow or next year. ‘Tain’t jumpin’ from place to place willy-nilly, Ah mean.”

A sigh from her friend suddenly made her feel a lot warmer, despite the almost watery chill of this cooled building, this oasis from the desert heat.

“Applejack, I presume good intentions on your part, but do you know how you’re coming across right now?”

“Er… no. It’s not like Ah hold it against you. Ah know work makes you relaxed, ‘cept when it don’t… Uh… but it just ain’t how Ah do it. Ah’d go see them apples and be like, ‘Hey, that’s a fine piece of work.’ Ah don’t make sketches for Sweet Apple Acres later, ‘cause that’d just be silly –”

Too late, her brain caught up with her mouth.

“Er, I mean, for a farmer to do. ‘Tain’t like Ah could do anything with sketches or nothin’, anyway. But Ah like your work ethic. It’s gettin’ me to some interestin’ places.”

Rarity sighed, longer and sadder this time. “Sometimes, Applejack, I wonder how you don’t alienate more ponies with your blunt tongue.”

“Ah’m jus’ sayin’ what’s on my mind. You know Ah don’t mean nothin’ by it. Tell you what; how ‘bout we go to this museum’s café later and Ah’ll buy us some drinks? Least Ah could do, since Ah’m taggin’ along.”

“Oh, Applejack. Come now. You don’t have to feel obliged to serve other ponies wherever you go. It’s a vacation. I’m more than happy to –”

“Well, Ah’d feel better about it instead of shadowin’ you doin’ nothin’.”

“Relax and enjoy the sights. If anyone deserves some time doing nothing, it’s a workaholic like you.”

They followed the jutting wall round, but whereas Rarity stopped every other yard to lean in close and make comments about gemstone this and Luxuria rug that and Finest Imperial Minotaurian Vase the other thing, Applejack squirmed and rubbed her legs against each other. She’d gone so long without dirt under her hooves – Rarity had insisted she take at least one bath last night – and her muscles itched to buck or to wield clippers or to heave a heavy cart uphill. She could feel them atrophy already; she just knew it.

As Rarity fussed over some brass lamp, Applejack heard the patter of tiny feet and turned around. To her surprise, Spike skittered across the tiled floor towards them.

“Hey, guys!” He skidded to a halt, lost purchase, and bounced off Applejack’s flank and onto his back.

After she pulled him upright, he dusted himself off and said, “Any of you guys seen Twilight anywhere? Hey, wait a minute. How come it’s just the two of you?”

“Whoa there, Sport.” Applejack flicked a bit of dirt off his shoulder. “You look like my Aunt Delicious when someone’s swiped her last rhubarb pie. You’ll pass out runnin’ around in this heat.”

“But Twilight’s schedule said you’d all come here first.” He was hopping from foot to foot.

“Spike, whatever’s the matter?” Rarity eased Applejack aside and bent down to his eye level. “We thought you were enjoying a lie-in.”

“I was, but I really need to see Twilight right away! Where is she?”

Sadly, Applejack shrugged. “Sorry. We all split up.”

“What!?”

“Pinkie Pie persuaded Twilight to reschedule for another day.” Rarity reached for his chin. “Did something happen?”

“ARGH!” Spike flapped his clawed hands. “How can she drop her schedule at a time like this? If you see her, tell her… Oh, forget it! Must dash!”

They watched him skitter pathetically between the weaving walls, occasionally bumping off a scowling horse or muttering minotaur.

“Oh, the poor dear,” said Rarity. “I hope it’s nothing too serious.”

“Wonder why he din’t stop to tell us, though. Something private, maybe?”

“Or he’s got it into his head only Twilight can solve it.” Yet as they moved on, Rarity’s brow creased with worry. “Ooh, I wish I hadn’t seen that! Now I’m going to wonder about him all day, wandering around a strange city all on his own, probably inconsolable…”

“Ah’m sure he’ll be fine. They love dragons here, or at least they ain’t dumb enough to go for one. Anyway, if we see Twilight, we’ll let her know he was lookin’ for her, OK?”

They passed into the gemstone section; unlike before, where the things had merely served as decoration for larger works of art, here they took pride of place. Around them, the room widened into a hall, and overhead clerestory windows let in the blue eyes of the sky and the yellow beams of the sun. Some of the gemstones sparkled.

“Now this is your kind of room,” said Applejack, giving her a gentle nudge. “Whew! Look at that centrepiece!”

On a podium and under a glass case stood an amethyst the size of a pony’s head. Even as they watched, swirling pink lights danced within its heart, tendrils stroking a smooth veneer of outer crystal. Yet past this smooth oval core, jagged edges took over, darkening as though corroded by the outside world. Whoever had tried to carve a giant cabochon out of this thing had given up halfway.

“Try gettin’ that on a tiara, eh Rarity?”

Rarity took one glance before she said, “Merely a replica.”

“Eh? But it’s got swirling lights an’ everythin’. Look!”

“Think, Applejack! Some of these gemstones are ancient and powerful. Do you really think they’d put the originals on display for all and sundry to try and steal? Think of Equestria’s own museums of crystal artefacts. Those are replicas too.”

Applejack walked over and leaned in close, declining to mention she hadn’t visited Equestria’s own museums in her life. If she tilted her head and cocked her ear, she fancied she could hear whispering, but then it could’ve been her imagination.

“Wonder what it’s for.” She examined the information display below. “Darn, that’s a mouthful. ‘Djinn-er-stone.’”

“The Djinnestone,” said a voice smoothly beside her. “Two syllables. Silent ‘e’.”

Applejack met the gaze of a pair of sunglasses. Shrouded by a wide-brimmed hood and concealed behind the collar of a trench coat, the only visible parts of the mare were two thin lines of vanilla yellow either side of the black lenses.

“Sorry.” Applejack sidestepped out of her way. “Ah din’t see you.”

“That’s quite all right,” said the mare; invisible though her mouth was, a smile warmed her voice. “I’m just waiting for a friend. It’s a beautiful stone, isn’t it?”

“Oh, most exquisite,” said Rarity, joining Applejack’s side. “It’s very convincing. As a connoisseur of gemstones myself, I see they’ve gone to a lot of trouble for this ersatz stand-in.”

“Well said!” The mare extended a sleeve; even her hoof was concealed by black fabric. “Of course, I’m not much for lustre and crystal systems myself, but ancient lore? Now that’s my cup of tea.”

Although Rarity shook the stranger’s hoof so hard she almost dislocated a limb, Applejack found herself thinking, What kind of mare wears that getup in this heat? What’s she got to hide? Her own hoofshake was stiff. She could tell the mare wasn’t much in the muscle department.

“Ancient lore?” said Applejack. She sniffed; pheromones wafted off the stranger, but she still caught the sting of worry. Last time she’d smelled that, Apple Bloom had been lying about knocking over the cookie jar.

“In this case, the legend of the Djinnestone.” The stranger turned to the glass case, her voice still full of beaming joy. “According to the ancient scrolls of the Sea of Death, the Djinn used to inhabit their own world. Then one day, clever Saddle Arabian alchemists discovered a way to bring them to our world, using ‘anchors’ to keep them locked here.”

“Huh.” Applejack followed her gaze to the swirling lights. “Bet they din’t like that.”

“Oh, at first they were pleasant enough. In fact, the spirits were fascinated to discover another world like ours, so many of them invited their friends over using more ‘anchor’ alchemy. Unfortunately –” The stranger lowered her head. “– what they liked most was committing evil deeds.”

Something about the harmonics sounded… fake to Applejack’s ears. One moment, it was like listening to a harp twang with the promise of angelic melodies. The next, it was like hearing the off-note, the scratchiness, the slightly-too-deep tone that couldn’t be made by a string instrument at all but could be made by a hidden tape recording.

“No one could stop them. Although the ‘anchors’ locked them into our world, the Djinn soon learned to hide or protect those ‘anchors’ while they stalked the land, consuming and destroying whatever they wished. Soon, they poisoned the Great River of Amon, promising failed crops and starvation to all.”

The dark edges of the amethyst sucked at their gazes like a black hole. It eclipsed even the bright sunlight against the wall opposite. Despite herself, Applejack shuddered.

“So how does this stone thingy come in?” she said.

“Thanks to All-Hazes the Seer. He learned that the ‘anchors’ merely held the spirits’ bodies in place.”

“Ah thought spirits don’t have bodies?”

“In a manner of speaking, they do.” The stranger waved a hoof irritably. “It was All-Hazes the Seer who learned how to bind their selves – their true selves, including their desires, perceptions, wills, thoughts, emotions, everything – to their ‘anchors’. Unlike the alchemists, he used magic. He created the Djinnestone to capture at least four dozen of the worst Djinn there and then, and as a test commanded them to build a dam across the poisoned river. They did it instantly, and he purified the waters, saving everyone.”

Beside Applejack, Rarity shivered. “Binding their selves to a bit of rock? That’s… questionable.”

“It was a necessity. The spirits would’ve killed him if he hadn’t. With their selves bound too, they had no choice but to follow his commands. He controlled them. And… well. Thanks to his insights, disaster was averted.”

Applejack smiled grimly. “A happy endin’, was it?”

“Of course!” The stranger turned her head and cocked it curiously. “You see, thanks to All-Hazes’ magic, the Saddle Arabians learned never to trust a free spirit in our world again. Now, it’s impossible to summon a Djinni without binding their true selves to an ‘anchor’ first.”

“Impossible?” said Applejack. “Or just ain’t done?”

The stranger shrugged. “What’s the difference?”

Rarity stamped her hooves twice for applause. “Bravo, good mare. Bravo. Your enthusiasm is inspiring! And it certainly explains that…” She shuddered. “That hideous costume we saw earlier.”

Batting a hoof, the stranger chuckled. “You’re too kind. It’s just nice to meet someone as interested in the ancient ways as I am.”

“My dear mare, we’d be honoured if you would accompany us around the Paradise Museum. You’re an education.”

Yet the stranger seemed to have exhausted her interest in them both; she turned away. “My apologies, but I have prior engagements. It really was nice talking to you.”

“But I thought you were waiting for a friend?”

“Uh… she seems to be late. Ah well, best go find her. Must run!”

“Wait a second,” said Applejack after her retreating back. “What’s your name?”

“I really am sorry!” The flapping trench coat disappeared round the corner.

Applejack narrowed her eyes.

“What a wonderful young lady!” Rarity said somewhere nearby. “I’d give anything for but a drop of the ocean of insight she could provide. The culture, the history, the creative sparks of inspiration! Er… Applejack, are you OK?”

“Yeah.” She met Rarity’s cool gaze. “Did she seem a li’l odd to you? Ah mean, what with the coat and the hat –”

“Come, come! You can hardly judge a mare by her attire. It’s not like you, Applejack.”

“She smelled like she was up to something.”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Now really! Anyone would think you’d just been conned out of your farm. Relax, Applejack. You’re merely on edge because of the lack of work. Just let it go.”

“All right, all right. Ah was jus’ speakin’ my mind. Din’t wanna accuse anyone. It’s jus’ feelings.”

“Well then.”

Applejack groaned. “Ah’m sorry. You’re right. Ah guess Ah must be on edge. You jus’ savour the moment. Ah don’t wanna ruin your day or nothin’.”

A genteel smile. “That’s the Applejack we know and love. If you like, I could take you to the orchards after I’ve finished here.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“Too late! It’s on my to-do list. Now, onward!”

Yet as they worked their way around the quartz exhibit, Applejack couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder to the stranger’s wake, to the bright square of sunlight, and especially to the dark Djinnestone lurking in the middle of the hall. Even if it was a replica.

Pincers crashed. Crabby forelimbs lunged. Stingers lashed like whips.

Fluttershy leaned over the rails, mouth open, wings spread so she didn’t fall hooves-over-head into the pit. Pinkie next to her winced with the second crash.

“Are they always this violent!?” Pinkie yelped at a third crash.

“Oh, yes. Such strength! Look at how fast they move…” Fluttershy flapped to adjust her tilt.

Hissing and bellowing, the two pony-like heads glared at each other as the two scorpion-like arms broke apart, smashed together, broke apart, lunged, parried, slapped, and batted each other about. Furiously trying to get around each other’s guard, they drew back, all eight legs scuttling, circled each other, and then charged forwards, chests bumping, lower carapace ringing with the bang of armour against armour. The screeching of pincers and stingers was nails on glass.

Around the two combatants, other Scorponies milled about. Fluttershy checked their faces. Most of them sagged with sleepiness, though one or two of the smaller – younger – animals watched the swipe of tails and arms avidly as though taking notes.

Pinkie yelped again. “I don’t like this much. Aren’t there any nice Scorponies around?”

“Oh, Scorponies don’t usually fight,” said Fluttershy, refusing to look away as the two swiped and parried. “I guess this must be their breeding season.”

“So… they’re fighting over girls?”

“No. She’s the one fighting him.”

“What!? Why!? That doesn’t sound romantic at all!”

Fluttershy chuckled. “You don’t need to worry so much, Pinkie. That’s what Scorponies do. If he wins the fight, she’ll respect his power and good health. Then they start dating for real. Play his cards right, and he might just become a proud father of a thousand.”

One of the Scorponies – she noticed the rounder muzzle and recognized the female – broke off to roar so loudly that it ripped into an echoing screech and sandblasted their ears until she ran out of breath and grumbled to a stop. The other Scorpony twitched, torn between a desire to flee and a desire to try another round.

“Goodness, this is exciting!” Fluttershy bit her hooves. “Will he? Won’t he? Oh, the tension… I can’t stand all this tension…”

“You’re weird.” Pinkie shook her head sadly at her.

“Aw…” Fluttershy’s wings slumped. The male waited too long; with another slash, the female Scorpony jolted him into fleeing.

She sighed and watched him scuttle among the others in his efforts to escape. “They would’ve made a lovely couple. For a moment, I thought he was going to get a second wind, but I guess the poor thing was too tired.”

Fluttershy’s nose twitched. Fear reeked off Pinkie Pie like a stinging swarm of bees. She turned back and was surprised to find her friend shaking.

“Can we go now?” said Pinkie. “Please?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how intense a Scorpony fight must look to outsiders. Please excuse my manners. I should’ve thought about you.”

“Yeah.” Pinkie edged away from the rails overlooking the pit. “Intense. Let’s… Let’s just head off someplace else? I need a snack.”

Oh, Fluttershy. You’ve done it again. How can you be so thoughtless? Hastily, Fluttershy zipped through the air, blocking Pinkie’s path.

“Wait! Let me make it up to you. I could show you some nice Scorponies, if you like. I wouldn’t want you to go away with the wrong impression, and not when you look so scared!”

As she led Pinkie over to a row of stables near the pit, she adjusted the angle of her wings. Perhaps a waft of cool wind would help her friend calm down.

Eventually, Pinkie’s trembles turned into shaking chuckles. “And I was thinking you’d pick the warm and fuzzy thing to do! Ha! Guess the joke’s on me, huh?”

“That’s the stuff. Here, let me pay for this one.”

Pinkie eyed the stables suspiciously. “Pay for what?”

“Don’t worry. It won’t take long.”

At the entrance, a Saddle Arabian horse beamed at her, though that might’ve been because she’d just pulled out a hoofful of coins. “Good day to you, friend! Would you like to enter the petting zoo?”

“Yes, please. Two, please.”

She tried to ignore Pinkie’s squeak behind her. “Petting zoo!?”

“Wonderful.” The horse peered down at her coins. “A nice day out, is it? How are you finding the city?”

“It’s beautiful.” Fluttershy sighed; he’d just taken half the coins, which wasn’t good when she’d emptied her saddlebag. “My friends and I are only staying a little while, but it’s so rich. Why, I could stay here for a whole year and still feel like I hadn’t seen everything.”

“Music to my ears, friend. A beautiful city fit for such a beautiful mare, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Aheheheh.” For all the cool breeze curling around her, she suddenly burned as though the desert had broken through. Matilda did say this was a city of romance, but the idea of anyone here taking an interest – even a polite one – hadn’t crossed her mind. Not when Scorponies were in their season.

“And you,” he said, turning to Pinkie. “It must be so exciting for you too, my friend.”

Unlike Fluttershy, Pinkie had no obvious way of dissipating the heat. Her mane was sinking over her brow and down her neck like a pink oil slick. Her coat gleamed. Overhead, the rooftops stood far apart, exposing far more blue and allowing the sun a full shot.

“Y-Yeah.” Pinkie shivered where she stood. “Exciting is the word.”

The stable owner stepped aside and waved them through. Another Saddle Arabian horse – a mare this time – smiled at them on the other side and then stood back to watch. Fluttershy noticed a prod next to her, but shrugged and drifted on.

No ceiling saved the stables from the day. Under Pinkie’s hooves, straw cracked. Stalls ran along either side, merely rising up to a pony’s chest height but almost glowing with light. Wood everywhere peeled.

Poking over the tops of the stalls, the round-faced Scorponies cocked their heads at her. Their eyes were saucers. One or two waved stubby little claws or waggled tails like necklaces.

“Aw…” Fluttershy’s heart melted. “They’re so cute!”

Pinkie’s face paled. “Scorpony babies!? Really!?”

“They don’t fight, and they can’t sting you or pinch you.” Fluttershy reached down, hardly daring to believe she was this close to a Scorpony baby – a real baby! Gently as she could, she rubbed the nearest one under its chin.

At once, the creature stiffened. A shiver ran down its carapace. Both eyes closed and both lips stretched in a smile that just kept growing. She rubbed harder; the Scorpony’s chin was soft and squishy as a newborn foal. Two of its left legs stamped and stamped and ended up drumming the floor as though unable to handle such sheer pleasure.

She heard Pinkie’s hooves crunch closer.

“Don’t Mommy and Daddy mind?” said Pinkie.

“Scorponies grow up fast. Once they’re too big to carry around, the babies climb off and go hunting for themselves.” Honesty pushed her to add, “Although it is a good thing the adults can’t see us. They don’t like anyone touching babies. They’re extremely protective. Why don’t you try it? That one looks friendly.”

The “friendly” one opened its mouth in a yawn.

Pinkie scuffed the floor in her haste to back away. “I’m good.”

“Hm?” Fluttershy followed her gaze. “Oh, the teeth. It’s OK. They don’t bite.”

“You sure?” Pinkie winced as a couple of fangs clicked together.

“I’m positive. Come on. When you get home, wouldn’t it be nice to say you petted a Scorpony?”

By now, the lucky baby had rolled onto its belly. Fluttershy scratched its chest and heard the rough sandpaper scraping. Beside her, Pinkie’s shadow fell over another baby. Her pink hoof stretched out. The baby sniffed it curiously.

“See? They’re not so bad once you get to know them.”

Squeaking with the shock, Pinkie touched the muzzle. The baby grinned – Pinkie drew back instantly – but then raised its chin as an open invitation. Gradually, her touch became a tap became a stroking of the skin, and the baby wiggled on its legs.

“Hey, yeah.” Pinkie’s old glee rose up in her voice. “This isn’t bad! In fact…” She scratched more vigorously until the baby gurgled. “I like this! I really like this!”

“Told you, huh?” Just this once, Fluttershy allowed herself a smug grin. Sometimes it was nice to be proven right.

“Fluttershy, you are the most amazingest pony I know. Wait until I tell Twilight!” A gasp. “We should get everyone back here! Can you imagine the look on Rainbow’s face when we pretend they’re so vicious, and then lead her in here and start petting one, and she’ll be like, ‘Hey! I thought you said they were nasty and mean and bitey!’ And we’ll be like, ‘Haha, no. They’re cute little babies!’ And she’ll be like, ‘You prankster, you! You got my hopes up! I wanted to see ‘em fighting!’”

Fluttershy relaxed. When Pinkie Pie was thinking up pranks, she knew all was well with the world.

To her surprise, a scuffling broke the silence. They glanced at the entrance in time to see Spike run between the stable-owner’s legs and skid to a halt beside them.

Concern flooded Fluttershy’s chest before she’d even taken in the reddening face, the blazing smell of dragon sweat, or the panting so heavy it sounded like his lungs were threatening self-eviction. Instinct pushed her towards him.

“Oh my,” she said, reaching out. “Spike. You look awful. Do you want a drink?”

“Where’s…” Spike waved her away. “Where’s Twilight?”

“I dunno.” Pinkie hopped over. “Haven’t seen her. Do you want one of us to go get her? I could find her faster than Rainbow could eat a triple-decker hayburger. And that’s hyper fast. I got a knack for it.”

At the stable entrance, the owner frowned first at his attendant – who hadn’t reacted in any way beyond smiling again – and then at Spike. “Please, Mister Dragon! You must pay to come in here! It is the rules!”

Spike’s stomach bulged and thinned with each breath. “Gotta… Gotta tell… Twilight… it’s missing… I gotta…”

Oh no. A robbery? In this city? But I thought it was supposed to be peaceful here! Oh no. My things… My room… What if someone else…?

At Spike’s stumbling attempts to zigzag to the exit, however, all thought evaporated. She flapped over to him; Pinkie hopped alongside.

“You shouldn’t run in this heat,” said Fluttershy. “It’ll make you ill. Let me get you a nice, cooling drink…”

“NO! Gotta GO!”

Next moment, he was a blur streaking between the legs of the stable-owner, who blinked in astonishment.

“Spike!” Pinkie hopped over him. “Wait up!”

“What just happened?” he said. “You two know that young dragon?”

“Sorry about this.” Fluttershy slipped through the gap between his back and the door frame. She paused only to stop and wave at the crying babies, who were gabbling after her and waving their pincers pleadingly.

By the time she crossed the open area to where Pinkie stood, the street crowd swallowed up Spike’s outline. Frantically, she soared up and scanned for him, but the crowd ran river-like down the boulevard and off the main tributaries of road. Higher up, only rooftops and spires dominated.

“Poor Spike,” she said.

More crashes burst out of the pit. Fluttershy stopped her wings and fell down, flicked out her wings just shy of the ground, and landed with a flutter next to Pinkie Pie.

“We should go help him,” said Pinkie at once. “He’ll get lost, and then he’ll be all alone, wondering where everyone is, all sad and scared… Come on!”

“But I can’t see him anywhere. He could be several blocks away by now.”

“Ah!” Pinkie covered her ears and shook her head. “Everything’s going wrong! I messed up Cranky and Matilda’s special week, we’re splitting up, Spike’s gone missing! EVERYTHING! STOP GOING WRONG!”

“Messed up? You didn’t mess up anything. They’re probably having a wonderful time together.” Fluttershy prodded her on the shoulder. “Maybe we should find Twilight instead? We could tell her where we saw him, and I’ll bet she can track him down faster than we can.”

“You think?” Pinkie wiped her muzzle with the back of her forelimb. “Well… if I know Twilight, she’s probably at a library.”

“That’s good.”

“Or at a museum. Or at a gallery.”

“That’s… not as good.”

“Or anywhere in the city! There must be hundreds of places she’d want to visit!”

“That’s kinda bad.”

“Wait!” Pinkie massaged her temples. “I’m getting an idea…”

“Ooh, that’s great! What is it?”

“Why don’t we… ask everyone and anyone in the city where she is? Someone’s bound to know where we could find her!”

“And that’s very, very bad.” Fluttershy coughed into her hoof. She wasn’t sure she liked Pinkie in this mood. Sure, the mare could quick-draw emotions and jump from downside to upside, but so far she just seemed to be sinking lower and lower. Even Pinkie’s back bent low.

This is all just awful. If only I could find a way of cheering her up. But she’s right. Spike shouldn’t be left out here all on his own. Could there be someone who could look out for him? When little fillies get lost, there’s usually somewhere they can wait safely until their parents come find them. Some kind of security, or a royal guard.

Immediately, Fluttershy rose higher. Barely had she cleared a few yards when she spotted a blue shape moving through the crowd. One blue uniform, with a pale face over it.

Didn’t Twilight mention something about a Watch in the city? That must be one of the Watch Ponies now. If I could tell her, I could get the whole Watch to keep an eye out for him. Twilight said they were very competent.

Lowering herself back to Pinkie’s level, she heard her friend say, “And then I’ll get some balloons and float over the rooftops, and then I’m bound to spot him that way!”

“Uh…” Fluttershy’s ear twitched; another crash rose from the pit. “How about we ask that Watch Pony over there?”

Pinkie blinked away whatever nightmare had squeezed her face. “Huh?”

“Then the whole Watch could keep eyes and ears out for him. We could tell her to send him… Oh, I don’t know…”

“That’s it!” Pinkie almost head-butted her leaping back onto all fours. “She could send him to the Café! Everyone’ll be there! Fluttershy, you’re a genius!”

Suddenly, the next crash broke off and squealing, screaming pain drilled into their ears. Pinkie winced and yelped in shock. Fluttershy rounded on the pit at once.

Another fight stopped. However, when the male tried scuttling away, the female grabbed his tail and raised a pincer. Blows scuffed his rear armour. He squealed, screamed, wiggled trying to break free, and scuttled feebly with his legs half-raised off the ground by her yanking. A mere tug pulled him into range for more blows.

Without thought, without hesitation, without anything but a rising roaring rampage of outrage, Fluttershy was in the pit. Once her vision focused, the surprised face of the Scorpony loomed before her.

“How dare you!” she yelled; the Scorpony let go at once, and the victim scuttled out of sight. “What on earth were you thinking, picking on your fellow Scorpony like that? Fighting is one thing, that’s your way of doing things, I understand, but bullying is something else! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

Surprise closed in, giving way to an angry glower. The female Scorpony raised her pincers.

“Fluttershy!” cried Pinkie, voice echoing in the pit. “What, are you crazy? Get outta there!”

“Now look, I don’t know what your disagreement was, and I don’t care. Nothing gives you the right to hurt him when he was clearly leaving. If you’re frustrated, there are ways we can help, but don’t you go hurting other creatures!”

The reply was a roar that echoed back up the slopes and around her ears and whipped her mane about her face before it settled down.

The Scorpony blinked. Presumably, it was wondering why she hadn’t backed away yet. But years and years of staring down creatures ten times her size had immunized Fluttershy to the loudest of roars, and this wasn’t even a squeak compared with the stomach-churning, face-stretching, whirlwind-inducing bellows she’d faced throughout her career.

It whimpered.

“Yes, very scary,” said Fluttershy. Feeling she was looming too much, she lowered herself to its eye level. “Come on. Behave yourself like a good Scorpony, and no one has to do anything they’ll regret. You’re going to be courteous and civil, is that understood?”

It wrung its pincers together. Sweat glistened on its forehead.

“I said: is that understood?”

Finally, and looking as though it wanted to crawl into a hole and bury itself, it nodded.

“Good girl. Now let’s enjoy the sunshine and we’ll say no more about it. How does that sound?”

Overhead, Pinkie gasped. Four hooves landed behind Fluttershy. She heard groaning Scorponies scurry in a hurry to get out of the way.

“Ahem,” said a voice.

Fluttershy spun around.

Standing in the midst of a rapidly expanding space, totally uninterested in the hasty Scorponies trying to crowd the margins, a lone pony glared at her. One blue uniform clung tightly to its legs and flanks. All four hooves ended in dark, glove-like wrappings that allowed only a peek of the white underneath. Stiff and straight was the order of the day. Even hovering, Fluttershy felt dwarfed.

Fluttershy’s gaze travelled upwards hopefully. No such luck; a pale face, half-shadowed and leaning forwards, was dominated by two eyes like Bunsen burner flames. One blue headband accentuated the scowl. Blonde locks clung tight to the skull; only a simple ponytail protruded from the back, though “fox’s tail” would’ve described it better.

The Watch Pony stepped forwards. Even her steps reminded Fluttershy of the Royal Guard on parade, if the Royal Guard had been so cold and unfriendly that the air around them chilled.

“This is a restricted area,” said the Watch Pony; her tone was a scimitar under Fluttershy’s throat. It had all the warmth of an icicle.

Scorponies watched the newcomer cross the pit. One or two lost their nerve and tried to clamber out.

“Uh…” Fluttershy saw Pinkie Pie leaning on the rails and gaping down. “I’m sorry, uh, officer. I was trying to stop a fight. Uh…”

“Trespassing in the pit is forbidden,” continued the Watch Pony. “Violating this rule leaves you liable for prosecution and could result in a hefty fine.”

Chills crept down Fluttershy’s spine. Something was off about the mare. Certainly, no ordinary pony could scatter an entire colony of Scorponies this easily.

“I’m sorry.” She threw a sacrificial grin. “I-I was just, uh, leaving.”

The Watch Pony, if anything, narrowed her eyes to blue slits; they were almost black. “Good. The rules are there for your protection. In the meantime, I suggest you do leave. Immediately.”

Fluttershy didn’t wait. Two seconds later, she was over the rails with Pinkie Pie. Frantic stings of breath caught up with her. She doubled over panting, and didn’t protest when Pinkie’s hoof patted her saddle.

“Wow, she was creepy.” Pinkie rubbed her until she stopped panting. “What a meanie-pants! You were only trying to help.”

“How… How did she… get down there? She didn’t… look like a… like a pegasus…”

“She jumped.”

Fluttershy chewed over this statement. That’s got to be four storeys at least. “Jumped?”

“Yeah. She saw you take a dive, then she walked over and jumped.”

“Pinkie, she’d break something.”

“Well, that’s what she did. Come on. This place isn’t as fun as I thought it was. Let’s go find Spike together!”

But what about that Watch Pony? How’s she getting back out? Shouldn’t we tell someone? Fluttershy peered over the edge, looking for a cave entrance or for a rope, or something, anything. As before, Scorponies scattered about at random.

The Watch Pony was gone.

“Flutters!” Pinkie called. “Come on! A friend in need is a friend indeed, right?”

“Uh…” Fluttershy scanned the segmented backs. She couldn’t have just left. There’s no way…

“FLUTTERSHY!”

With a sigh, she abandoned the enquiry and hoped it would all work itself out if she left it alone. It wasn’t her business. She’d stopped a fight. She’d avoided trouble. She needed to find Spike. The world was a lot simpler when she stopped looking for ways to complicate it.

“Wait! I’m coming!” With a final saddened glance at the Scorponies, she flapped up and drifted after the bouncing of her friend among the crowds.

Risk-Takers

Twilight had stuck to the schedule. In some way, she owed it to her past self, and in any case she liked the idea of getting the inside scoop ahead of the others. She could be their tour guide tomorrow, broadening horizons and raising them to new heights.

So she couldn’t help but sigh when Rainbow Dash thumped the barrier and shouted over the crowd, “Come on, Lucky Seven!”

“Rainbow!” Twilight drew herself up through sheer habit. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Beside her, Rainbow clenched the paper between ergot and hoof. “There’s nothing wrong with it. The worst that happens is I lose a little money. And it makes the camel races that much more exciting – Pump those legs, Lucky Seven! No! Don’t let him get past! Knock him down! Knock him down! – so what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that it’s a waste of perfectly serviceable currency. I’m sure I’ve already explained the concept of opportunity costs, and hence – ahem – the need for a thorough cost-benefit analysis. Not to mention the psychological effects it has on –”

“NO! Don’t take it wide! Lucky Seven! Gallop! Gallop! GALLOP! Stop looking at me and gallop HARDER! Everyone’s OK with it over here. I might as well give it a go while I can. You know, explore a new culture? Understand and respect different ways of doing stuff?”

Twilight pretended she hadn’t heard fragments of her own speech there; she’d sent Rainbow Dash to sleep on the airship coming over. “Not that it matters at this stage, but I had more, well, cultural things in mind. Museums, literature, the theatre –”

“Twi, look who you’re talking to. Yes! Yes! Come on, Lucky Seven! Almost there! Second wind! Second wind! Blow right past him! So close! Push for it! PUSH! A few coins on Lucky Seven means a lot more to me than a few coins on What’s-His-Face’s Whatever-It’s-Called dancing show.”

“A few coins? That was twenty bits!”

“The odds are one to ninety nine against. The payoff’ll be… It’ll be… Well, it must be thousands!”

“One thousand, nine hundred, and eighty bits. And no, because probabilistically speaking, he’s going to lose.”

Rainbow glared at her. “Underdogs never lose. One racer comes on looking like he got dragged out of a rug store and with four left knees and his face all cross-eyed like he’s looking up his own nose… Everyone laughs at him, and he struggles a bit, but you know, you just know, deep down, that if there’s any justice in the world, he’ll rise up to the challenge, unlock his inner strength, and show the world what he can really –”

“He just came in twenty-sixth.”

Cheers and groans echoed about the stands. On the near part of the circuit, the camels trundled to a stop, chewing and glaring insolently at the crowd.

Rainbow gaped and sagged over the rail. “WHAT!? But… But how? There were only twenty five racers!”

Over the loudspeakers, a chipper commentator yelled, “And whoever bet on the random dog running out onto the track must really be laughing all the way to the bank now, folks! A surprise victory for Goldie the Kaftan Hound!”

A zebra nudged Twilight’s elbow. “She’s always doing that. Reckon it’s the rabbit that does it.”

“What rabbit?” yelled Rainbow. “This isn’t dog-racing! They’re camels.”

Twilight squinted; on the golden dog’s back, sitting on a little saddle and pulling at little reins, was a tiny white ball of fluff.

Beside her, Rainbow Dash made the sort of noises normally reserved for drowning mice. Shamefully, Twilight felt in her chest the flickering smugness; the words “I told you so” had a horribly tempting ring to them.

“What happened?” groaned Rainbow Dash.

“We've just explored a new culture,” said Twilight, unable to resist. “And understood and respected different ways of doing stuff.”

“OK,” said Rainbow Dash, straightening herself up again. “OK, you got me. I guess… it wasn’t… the best idea I’ve ever had.”

“There have been worse ones, I’ll grant you that. Well, time’s up. Wanna move on to the library next?”

Defeated, Rainbow shrugged and rose up on beating wings. “Sure. Why not?”

Yet whereas Twilight couldn’t get away fast enough from all the shouting and the cheering and the overwhelming musk of unwashed camel, she noticed Rainbow was turning against her own hovering wings as though trying to stop herself drifting away from the noise. Rainbow always wanted to be where the action was, albeit she usually achieved that much by doing it herself.

Part of Twilight – perhaps a remnant of her Canterlot days – had writhed under the weight of all the strangers. They didn’t look like cultural connoisseurs, unless fast food counted. Generally, they’d been unshaven and unkempt and didn’t look like the sort to appreciate anything more sophisticated than “There was an old donkey named Bad-Ass…”

To think: she’d assumed camel racing was basically the Wonderbolts Derby of Saddle Arabia. Except with no wings and plenty of humps and lots and lots of sand on the track.

They followed the corridor towards the exit, passing several stalls trying to sell falafel, samosas, dates, figs, exotic rice dishes, and – for some reason – cheese pizzas.

“Chin up,” said Twilight. “At least you got to see the grace and athleticism of a well-trained dromedary in action. You’d be amazed how many ponies never think of camels as fast runners.”

“I guess.” Rainbow flipped over and placed hooves behind head, sculling slightly higher than Twilight’s horn. “But that was twenty bits. Twenty! I could’ve gotten another curry with that.”

“Oh yeah. How was it?”

“Eh. Nowhere near spicy enough. So much for ‘Comes with its own fire extinguisher’.”

“Oh,” said Twilight, smirking. “Is that why steam was coming out of your ears –”

“You imagined that.”

“– and your face turned red as a tomato –”

“I was trying to see how long I could hold my breath.”

“– before you ran off to the little filly’s room with your mouth full?”

Upside-down, Rainbow shrugged. “Call of nature. Can’t ignore one of those.”

Twilight sighed. “Well, I’ll give you credit. At least you’re trying new things. And with gusto! That’s what being on vacation is all about.”

“I know you’re trying to cheer me up, but… that could’ve been a couple of thousand bits! I was this close.”

Despite the smirk fighting to stay on her face, Twilight collapsed inside. Long months watching Rainbow Dash racing and hoof-wrestling and demanding staring contests had taught her that Rainbow was to losing what vampires were to garlic.

The corridor forked up ahead. Twilight nodded and went down the left one. “Follow me.”

“Huh?” Rainbow zipped across to keep up. “But you said the library was that way.”

“I’m making a slight course correction. Trust me, you’ll love this.”

With the tone of one trying to spot the trick, Rainbow said, “Love what, exactly?”

Twilight cut off the giggles. “Oh, you’ll see!”

From the dim corridor, they emerged into blinding light. Then the daylight resolved into temples and sky. Spread out below them, golden as a field of maize, the steps and the plaza and the rows of ornamental pillars suggested gold had featured in the city’s ancestry. To their right, the library boasted columns and jagged engravings along its eaves, resembling nothing less than an ancient pegasine temple. Rich red clay of a true temple rose to their left, ebbing and flowing and interrupted only by windows like silhouettes of flame.

Towering over them all, the brass statue reared its lengthy snout to the midday sun. Twilight heard a gasp beside her. Even she had to tilt her head far back to catch the cold smile on the gigantic face overhead.

Rainbow Dash whistled. “Now that is a champ.”

“That’s the Colossus of Great Saddle.” Twilight licked her lips. A cape flowed down from the statue’s collar, plated barding expanded his chest, and carved hoof-shoes suggested each foot was standing on a half-sunken globe, as though conquering whole worlds was mere sport.

“Whoa,” said Rainbow.

“A colossus is the largest class of statue from the ancient world.” Even seeing Rainbow’s face shining as much as the brass, Twilight’s inner teacher slipped her a few notes. “The Saddle Arabians borrowed the practice from the Ancient Pegasus Empire.”

“I could fly right over that… Bet he was a heck of a fighter…”

“Great Saddle was a very important figure in Saddle Arabian history. In fact, the name Saddle Arabia actually derives from his –”

“Twilight?” Rainbow nudged her neck. “No offence, but you’re wrecking the moment.”

“Oh. Er. S-Sorry.”

Minotaurs, zebras, and ponies occasionally crossed the plaza below the shadow of the colossus. Some claimed benches and leaned their heads back to admire the mighty brass head. In some ways, Great Saddle was merely a squarer-faced alicorn, minus the horn and wings. He radiated royalty.

“You know,” said Twilight as though gently placing a hoof on a possible trapdoor, “Great Saddle was one of history’s greatest military leaders.”

“Military, huh? Like Commander Hurricane? Or General Firefly? What did he do?”

I knew you’d like it. Twilight sighed and stared, drinking in the details of the plated barding.

“Long ago, there used to be lots of tribes fighting amongst themselves. They were few and scattered, and no one trusted any of the others. They’d been fighting for as long as they could remember.”

“Huh. That sounds just like the Hearth’s Warming story.”

“Only here, Great Saddle had to stop the fighting on his own. He started off as a simple tribal pony, like his family, but thanks to his charm, skill, and tactical brilliance, he soon had all the tribes united under his name. For the first time, they enjoyed peace and prosperity, and the world entered the Golden Age of Civilization. A lot of our science and art in Equestria actually came from here, brought over by earth pony explorers and pegasus wanderers.”

Rainbow’s only contribution was: “Neat.”

Still, when Twilight glanced up to see her friend’s eyes unblinkingly trying to absorb everything – from the podium big enough for a school to the head big enough for a class – she imagined that this was what Pinkie Pie felt like all the time. The worm of Rainbow’s money worries had been swept away. She could almost feel the heat of Rainbow’s interest burning like a campfire.

“So…” A grin stretched across Rainbow’s face. “This place isn’t just a pretty face, then.”

“Oh no. Saddle Arabians had quite a dark and turbulent history of their own.”

“Lots of wars and things? Cool! Imagine what kinds of flyers they might have –” Rainbow glanced down at the plaza. “Hey, isn’t that Spike?”

Twilight frowned and followed her gaze. A purple dot shot across the plaza. Two zebras stopped to watch it pass, and three Saddle Arabians actually jumped out of its way and bowed respectfully. As it tackled the steps up to them, the green head spikes and wide eyes became obvious.

“Spike?” she said, stepping forwards uncertainly.

He tripped on the last step with a yelp.

“Spike!” Quickly, she levitated his front and righted him. A flash of light, and the summoned duster rid his scales of the dirt and sand before vanishing. Spike sneezed in the resultant cloud.

“Got… tell you… trouble…” Clutching his chest, he double up and almost fell forwards again.

“Whoa, Spike,” said Rainbow. “Are you crazy? It’s midday. You’ll cook yourself in this heat.”

Red blotches stained the scales of his cheeks and forehead, but Twilight knew that wasn’t the heat. A species capable of bathing in lava was not likely to be bothered by desert sunshine. No, all this panting and gasping was just because exercise was an embarrassing distant relative that he’d only visit out of duty. Besides, if baby dragons had puppy fat, then Spike was a bowling ball of the stuff.

“I’ve got some spring water.” She summoned the bottle from her saddlebag. The lid spun off. A snake of clear liquid slithered through the air and into the waiting mouth of Spike.

One satisfied gasp later, he wiped his forehead. “Wow, did I need that. My throat felt like sandpaper!”

“So what’s the big deal?” said Rainbow Dash.

Fresh panic startled him; his face jolted with it. “Twilight! Someone broke into your room!”

The words didn’t sink in straightaway. “What? My room?”

“I woke up and heard voices! I thought you guys had come back, but when I listened, it didn’t sound like anyone I knew. By the time I got through the door, they were gone. I never saw them.”

“Someone was in my room?” Twilight shivered. Despite the constant sunshine, a dark cloud passed through her mind. “No…”

“I checked everything on the inventory.”

“What was missing?” Please don’t let it be that. Let it be anything but that.

“The Guidebook! Everything was there except the Guidebook!”

Businesslike tones snatched up Twilight’s mouth while her brain staggered and made bubbling noises. “Did you tell anyone? The Watch? The hotel staff?”

Spike shook his head. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to do! I panicked!”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I was only thinking of telling you right away, and I saw your schedule and tried to find you, only you weren’t following the schedule, so I had to ask around…”

While he ploughed on through his ramblings, Twilight wilted where she stood. The Guidebook. Celestia’s Guidebook. She’d trusted me with it…

Beside her, Rainbow sighed. “Phew! At least they only took a book. It could’ve been a heck of a lot worse.”

“This is no ordinary book!” Twilight ran a hoof through her mane as though trying to stroke herself calm again. “Oh, how could I have been so foolish? That book contains all Equestrians know about the secrets of Saddle Arabia. It was Lawmaker’s own work. There isn’t another book like it in the whole world!”

“What should we do?” said Spike.

“What else?” said Rainbow Dash, hitting hoof against ergot. “Go and look for it.” In an undertone, she added, “If it’s that important.”

“It was Celestia’s inheritance. She trusted me with it. How could this happen? I thought Saddle Arabia had solved its high-theft crime rate! It was supposed to be safe!”

I was supposed to keep it safe. I told Princess Celestia I wanted the best reference book on the subject. I knew she treasured it so much. I couldn’t believe my luck. I swore I’d protect it for her. I swore!

From two blocks over, something exploded.

One moment, Twilight was sinking in a swamp of her own horrified misery. Something smashed through the waters of her mind and threw her out. The next moment, her thoughts gasped for breath while the boom rattled the bits of stone across the plaza and the inhabitants screamed and whinnied and bellowed. Shapes galloped or stood stock still.

Smoke billowed up from the rooftops. They couldn't see where from.

“What was that?” cried Spike. He stood behind Twilight. Impressively, he'd moved so fast she hadn’t seen him, but she could now feel his claws gripping her flank.

“I’ll check.” Ripping through the air, Rainbow became a dot directly overhead, her blueness almost lost to the sky. Plaza citizens either backed away nervously or stepped closer to the smoke in morbid fascination.

Twilight saw two figures charge into the plaza.

Both trench coats flapped about them. Their heads hid under broad brims. Even from here, their dark sunglasses were unmistakeable.

Far behind them, a voice bellowed, “STOP! THIEF!”

Twilight’s face hardened. “Let’s go.”

Yet barely had she leaped a dozen steps when she noticed a moving blur to her right. She trotted down another few steps and spotted the blue uniform striding onto the plaza from the opposite side. One blonde ponytail undulated behind it.

“Why are we stopping?” Spike stumbled a few steps down and turned to her.

“Watch.”

If the figures had noticed the Watch Pony, they made no effort either to slow down or to speed up. They were already halfway across the plaza. Unfortunately for them, the Watch Pony was more attentive; her head locked on so fast that the ponytail whipped the air.

Twilight watched the Watch Pony… implode.

“Fascinating,” she whispered.

The resulting blue fireball streaked towards the pair like a comet. Both thieves skidded to a halt; the flames burst outwards and four wrapped hooves hit the tiles. The Watch Pony lowered her head. A horn sprouted. She fired.

Blue jets of flame whipped round. At once, both ponies shrank back before the curving blaze became a customized whirlwind of crackling and whooshing fire. The horn retracted.

“Whoa,” said Spike. “You weren’t kidding.”

Twilight smirked. “I told you, didn’t I? The Watch here is amazingly efficient.”

“What is that?” One claw pointed to the blue-clad figure.

“She’s a Djinni. They're fiery spirits made almost entirely of phlogiston. And they’re among the best taskmasters a mage could hope for.”

To her right, Rainbow landed with a crack of knees. “Someone blew a hole through one of those big buildings. And I mean big; that hole must be ten feet wide!”

“What building?”

“I dunno. It had spires and things.”

Twilight’s memory produced a map of the vicinity. “That must be the Paradise Museum. I wonder what they stole from there. The place contains all kinds of magical artefacts, but I never would’ve thought anyone would be so foolish as to try –”

“Look!” Spike pointed at the whirlwind.

Its side burst open with a bolt of lightning that fizzled against the flames and died instantly, but it was enough. One blazing bundle tumbled out of it. Startled, the Watch Pony leaped aside. Out of the burning flaps of fabric, and while sunglasses fell away and shattered, the vanilla yellow earth mare shot up and across the steps, making for the opposite corner. Most of her coat smoked around her and hung on grimly.

Twilight grinned. This looks like a job for a heroic bystander. Too easy.

She closed her eyes. She focused.

The flash cut through even her tightening eyelids. Below her hooves, the steps fell away and then felt like they came back again. A gasp and a burst of turbulence told her she was right in front of the would-be escapee.

Twilight opened her eyes.

Skidding to a halt, the earth mare leaned back so far she almost limboed beneath Twilight’s splayed legs. Vanilla fur gleamed with sweat like a wet and dirty dish towel. Bits of charred trench coat flapped underfoot. A mane still trailing wisps of smoke spiked the air. Eyes and mouth widened within the confines of a rounded face that had “wild youth” written all over it.

Uncertainty flickered in the earth mare’s eyes before it clouded over and she threw herself forwards.

And bounced off the inside of Twilight’s shield spell.

Twilight was sure it should have ended there and then. One bubble shield big enough to enclose a pony from scalp to hooves was nothing more strenuous to her than reaching across a table to tap someone on the shoulder. She’d made shields big enough for houses. What hadn’t occurred to her was that no one else was following her script.

Like the Watch Pony. Who cannoned into the back of the bubble.

Instantly, the Djinni's flames sparked off and washed across the shield’s surface, eating through it. A rush of sparks wiped the magic out like wine on a flambé roast. The fire shot up the invisible lines of force connecting the magic shield to the magic flowing through Twilight’s horn.

Spikes of agony stabbed into her head.

She yelped and cut off the magic. Someone’s hoof rammed into her chest. Her back hit the steps. She barely heard the gallop of hooves dying away.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Rainbow streaked past her, the turbulence snagging at fringe and tail as she went.

Thoughts swirled and ebbed and flowed. Forefront on Twilight's mind was the sharp digging of the step into her spine. Spike’s voice shouted her name over and over. Claws gripped her shoulder and shook her. The kick to her chest hadn’t been that hard, had it?

Twilight shook her head, and the benches of the plaza swam back into view. “Spike?”

“She got away!” He looked over to the Watch Pony rising from the ground. “Look!”

Behind said Watch Pony, the other thief burst through the already-fragmenting whirlwind of fire, blasting it into fading sparks and embers. Trench coat smoking, this one lowered her head, aimed her unicorn horn, and charged.

The unicorn thief almost rushed past them. Almost that is, except for Spike lunging forwards and embracing both of her rear legs.

“Oof!”

The thump was heavy. Twilight winced.

“I got her! I got her!” Spike yelled, bursting with pride and astonishment. “How about that, you no-good crook!? I got you!”

Twilight shook herself down. “Well done, Spike!”

“You see that? I was amazing! She was coming right at me, and I just went –”

The Watch Pony stamped over to them. She wasn’t smiling.

“I got her!” repeated Spike, on the assumption that the magnitude of his heroic spirit would sink in if he shouted about it enough. “You see that! Ha! No one gets away from me that easily!”

Twilight and Spike looked into the Watch Pony’s eyes.

Two Bunsen burner flames sizzled the air between them.

Twilight and Spike sagged slightly.

“You interfered with police business,” said the Watch Pony. She didn’t sound remotely ready to hand out medals.

Her unicorn-like horn sprouted. Tendrils of flame zipped across, wrapped around the groaning unicorn thief’s forelegs, coalesced into cuffs…

“Obstruction of civic duty is a serious crime.”

…and fired a second line of flames.

Twilight yelped as her forelegs snapped together. Cuff links jingled under her.

“No, wait!” she yelled. “I was only trying to assist you!”

“That’s not important. You are under arrest for practising vigilantism, assaulting an officer of the Watch, and subverting the cause of justice. You will come with me to Headquarters.”

Light dawned. Twilight groaned. Of course. How could I be so stupid? This isn’t Equestria anymore. The Watch here aren’t like the Royal Guard back home. Oh, why did I interfere? I should’ve let her perform her duty.

Spike leaped up and onto his feet. “Hey! You can’t arrest her! She was only trying to help!”

“Spike, don’t. You’ll only make it worse.”

The Watch Pony strode forwards and heaved the grumbling unicorn thief over her shoulder. Bits of blackened trench coat slipped off, revealing crimson fur. An amethyst the size of a pony head rattled onto the tiles. One brown book thumped next to it.

Twilight gasped. My book! The Guidebook!

The Watch Pony’s back rippled. One flaming blue wing stretched out and swept up the two dropped items. It folded, clutching both tightly to its side.

“You will come with me.” The Watch Pony jerked her head across the plaza. “Now.”

“Are you crazy!? You should be thanking her!” Spike leaped between them, arms extended like a shield.

“Spike, no! It’s OK. I understand. I’m sure we can all work this out if we treat each other respectfully and with tact –”

“She’s not going anywhere.” Spike jerked a clawed thumb over his shoulder. “Do you have any idea who this is? Do you?”

She groaned. Spike, for the love of Celestia, please don’t follow that up with –

“She’s a friend of Princess Celestia! She’s done more brave and awesome things than I’ll bet you’ve ever dreamed of! And she knows loads more magic than you ever will!”

Whip flames leaped across. Spike yelped as his clawed hands snapped together.

“Hey!”

“If you insist on subverting the course of justice,” snapped the Watch Pony, “then you will suffer the same fate. Now, let’s have less arguing and more cooperating, or I’ll knock you out and drag you the whole way.”

“Why, you –”

Twilight placed both cuffed hooves onto his shoulder. “Spike, stop that. Let’s not cause any more trouble, OK?”

“But she just said –”

“I know. It’s the rules. She’s only doing her job. Will you please do what I ask?”

“But –”

“It’ll be OK. Trust me.”

While the unicorn thief growled and flailed with her back legs, the Watch Pony jerked her head again to get them moving. Twilight felt the cuffs warm slightly; another whip flame shot up to her horn, wrapping it from tip to base. Crackling met her ears. Tickling sensations ran along her horn. No magic allowed, was the obvious message.

Spike waddled beside her while she tried a stepping hop. When it came to locomotion, the cuffs had certain drawbacks.

Robbed and arrested within twenty four hours of touchdown, Twilight thought with a groan. We’re definitely not in Equestria anymore, Spike.

Police Business

The prison stank. What it stank of, Twilight didn’t dare speculate.

Two hours of it was a bit much, though.

Whereas the outer streets of Arabia Phoenix had lustre, the interior of the Watch Headquarters had nothing but the dullness of sandstone blocks. She reared up and peered beyond the iron bars of the window. Shaded alleyway greeted her, barrels and crates piled up as though trying to climb the walls either side, and in the sunlit distance stood the city’s water tower like a wooden bucket on a tripod.

The base of the window was level with the alley floor. She turned around.

Beyond the much larger bars of her cell door, the room did not venture far before meeting chairs and boxes. Steps opposite led up a narrow passageway – so narrow it was almost total shadow – to a doorway partially obscured behind the low-hanging ceiling. This was a room that didn’t care about its occupants; they were stuffed in there like junk until someone could find a use for them.

Apart from that, she had: one bunk bed; one pot in the corner releasing the unpleasant stink; a view of the neighbouring cell through the bars.

And Spike.

Pacing up and down, he kept mumbling to himself. His eyes were wide.

She went back to the window. Easy spells stepped forwards and whispered in her ear, but she glared until they stepped away. No breakouts. That wasn’t right. This had to be done fairly and properly.

“Don’t worry, Spike,” she said gently. “I doubt we’ll get much punishment for charges like those ones.”

“I’m not worried.” Spike hugged himself so tightly his claws scraped against the scales on his arms. “Why should I be worried? Just because the others’ll be worried sick about us, and we’ll be stuck here, and we probably won’t even see them again until the vacation’s gone, and we’ve ruined Pinkie’s plans, and our stuff is all still back at the hotel, and I don’t know if we can even reach Celestia this far away –”

Gently, she placed a hoof on his shoulder to stop him pacing. If nothing else, it meant her gaze didn’t follow him back and forth like a tennis ball.

“The Saddle Arabians are tough but fair,” she said, remembering Celestia’s words from what now felt like weeks ago. “I’m sure we’ll be fine so long as we don’t step on anyone’s hooves.”

“Ha,” muttered the thief.

Twilight glared at the top bunk. Ostensibly, they were sharing a cell because Saddle Arabians believed that the first step to reform was to learn to tolerate even the most degenerate of compatriots. However, she privately suspected it was because a wrong word or a bad move between prisoners would soon provide any nearby Watch Ponies with free – if sadistic – amusement.

So far, the thief had contented herself by resting on the bunk and napping for the last two hours or so. This was the first word she’d spoken.

“You seem awfully relaxed,” said Twilight. Bile clawed at her throat.

“When you’ve been in the business for as long as I have,” said the thief to the ceiling, “one jail is pretty much like another.”

Disgust clenched Twilight’s jaw. How can she be so unrepentant about this? She stole my book! She tried to steal from the Paradise Museum! She’s… She’s…

Yet even in her head, her Canterlot upbringing refused to employ a dirtier word than “awful”.

“You should be thinking about what you’ve done,” snapped Twilight.

“Yeah!” Spike leaped out of Twilight’s reach. “How dare you try and steal the Guidebook! It’s not just some prize. It means a lot to us.”

The thief rolled forwards onto her haunches. Her gaze, when it met theirs, was pink. Each eye looked like a blood-pack that had been partly bleached.

She shrugged. “Preach it to someone who cares. Anyway, I’d be more concerned about your… elemental prospects, Little Miss Magic.”

Elemental? Magic?

“My prospects!?” Ignoring a warning in her head, Twilight gritted her teeth before adding, “What about yours!? What were you thinking!? Do you have any idea what the punishment is for theft in Arabia Phoenix!?”

“Ha.” The smirk tugged at the thief’s mouth. “What do I care?”

“For unicorns, the punishment for theft is…” Even faced with that smirk, Twilight momentarily rammed her lips shut. “Is… Look, it’s really not nice. To stop you committing crimes again, they… they cut off your horn.”

For a second, the thief’s eyes widened. Her lips eased apart for the gape. Obviously, this was the first she’d heard about it.

Then the smirk sealed them shut. “That’s what you think. By the way, many thanks for making things easy for my colleague. Not that it’ll matter in the long run. Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

She’s trying to bait you. She’s trying to make you angry. Don’t fall for it.

“You’re planning an escape,” said Twilight. “Do you still have more of those explosives? Why did you do that to the museum?”

“We needed a distraction. And an emergency escape hatch. But mostly because it made me laugh.”

Twilight ground her teeth. The warning in her head reached critical point. Elemental. Magic. She knows what I am.

But… so what? Lots of ponies probably know what I am by now. It’s not a secret. Lots of Equestrians were there at the medal ceremony, and at the wedding invasion. Ponies talk. Perhaps they talk all the way across the border and beyond.

Spike waved his fists in the air. “You don’t know who you’re messing with!”

“Actually, I have a pretty good idea.” The thief leaned back, forelegs folded behind her head. “Which is more than can be said for you two.”

“Huh.” Spike folded his arms, scowling. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Twilight saw the thief turn to stare at her. It wasn’t a nice stare. It was the stare a cobra might give to a mouse, seconds before its squeaky demise. The thief licked her lips.

“Quite a powerful magic you’ve got packed away in there. Shame if a horn like yours parted company with its head.”

She’s a sadist. I’ve seen eyes like those before. She won’t dare lash out or shoot spells at either of us, so she’ll hit us with words instead. The important thing is to ignore her bluff.

Her gaze drifted to the barred window. Rainbow Dash had said the hole had been ten feet wide. Then she'd chased after the earth mare. Two hours had passed. And the pegasus still hadn’t appeared yet.

Where are you, Rainbow?

Spike raised his fists again. “Just try it. I dare you.”

“Spike!” Panic flickered through Twilight’s mind. “Let it go. She’s not worth it.” If she does anything to hurt you, I swear –

The thief waved a hoof airily over her chest. “I’m wounded! What a nasty thing for Celestia’s protégé to say. I thought they were all gracious in Canterlot.”

She sat up. Hastily, Spike backed into Twilight’s neck and chest.

“At least I’ll have the pleasure of your company for the next few hours. Maybe even days.” The smirk slithered across the thief’s crimson face. “You’ve got to sleep sometime. And I’m a very patient mare.”

Keys jingled. A lock clicked. All three of them watched the door shudder and ease open.

Wrapped hooves heralded blue sleeves of the Watch uniform. The scowl soon stepped into view. Spike clung to Twilight’s forelimbs. She could feel his claws digging into the skin.

“Stay where you are,” snapped the Watch Pony on approaching the cell’s iron lock. “Any attempt to escape will be treated with the utmost severity.”

One click later, the door swung open on squealing hinges. The Watch Pony focused her scowl on Twilight.

“You.” Foxtail whipping behind her jerking head, the Watch Pony stepped back. “Come with me.”

“What’s happening, Officer?” Twilight said before Spike released his grip.

The Watch Pony’s scowl sharpened; she could have used it to slice through the bars. “The Commander wishes to speak with you. Apparently, you’re getting a reprieve.”

Behind them, Twilight heard the shocked gasp of the thief.

“All right!” Spike hopped on the spot and punched the air. “Justice prevails! In your face, Book Burglar!”

On the bed, the thief spluttered. Twilight didn’t trust herself to look round. She was already having trouble not laughing her head off.

Passing the Watch Pony, however, her inner laughter subsided to weak chuckling. Such was the scowl aimed at her that she tried to hide her neck. Even ascending the steps behind the hopping Spike, she felt the skin on her back prickle with a hundred imaginary daggers fired from that face.

Up ahead lay the main desk. Despite the filing cabinets and the notice board on the wall, this room was stylistically no different from the cell downstairs. Crates and barrels lined the far wall.

A Saddle Arabian horse sat behind the desk, bearing the blue body suit of the Watch. However, Twilight noticed the crescent moon intersecting the scimitar on each of his front sleeves, and immediately thought: Commander. A Commander of the Watch, here, in this little place? I thought they worked at the Imperial Palace?

He looked up and immediately shot to his feet. The effect was like watching an albino giraffe stand to attention. Having knocked his chair over in his haste, he reached down and righted it.

Spike and Twilight exchanged glances while he hurried round the desk with a beaming smile flourishing on his face. “Ah, Miss Twilight Sparkle. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

His stick-like forelimbs seized her hoof and shook; her leg burned under the strain. “You know my name?”

“But of course! Your exploits are spoken in hushed voices throughout the taverns and inns of Arabia Phoenix. I myself hear the nobles of the palace speak of marvels.”

Her leg was still shaking when he let go. Only after he let go and bowed did Spike manage to grab it and hold it steady, and even then the bones tried to shake themselves out.

“Ah, but where are my manners? I am Commander Zahir the Supporter, leader of the Arabia Phoenix Watch.”

She watched with boiling embarrassment as he stood upright again. Surprisingly, he fell silent after that, apparently waiting for her next move.

“Um…” she said.

“What’s this all about?” said Spike. “You’re letting us go?”

From the right came a snort. All heads turned. The Watch Pony – Djinni, Twilight reminded herself – leaned casually against a filing cabinet, her glower trying to incinerate the wall behind them.

Zahir snapped; his rush of words darted across the full range of his native tongue. Guiltily, Twilight wished she hadn’t mastered the Millenoctibus language so well.

“I’m sure she means well,” she murmured.

Zahir stopped mid-rant and gaped at her, a reaction she was used to getting by now. Throughout, the Djinni had acknowledged no one.

“Aha,” he said, conjuring another smile. “I should have guessed. You are, after all, a scholar of great renown.”

“Well now, I wouldn’t say that –”

“Oh, you bet she is!” said Spike. “I reckon by now she’s read every single book in the Golden Oaks Library.”

Zahir nodded and returned to his post behind the desk. “Naturally. Please take a seat, Miss Twilight Sparkle.”

As she did so – Spike taking the chair to her left – Twilight swore she heard a disgusted gagging noise from the direction of the omnipresent glower. When Zahir reached for the glass jar, however, she sensed movement. She looked; the Djinni’s gaze snapped to the water sloshing over the lip.

“Refreshment, Miss Twilight Sparkle?” said Zahir.

“I’ll have a glass!”

“Here you go, Spike the Dragon. May I just say what an honour it is to meet a fine young specimen such as yourself? Dragonkind is most welcome in our city. Many believe you bring good luck.”

“Heheh, that’s me all right.” Spike gargled before gulping his drink.

While he gulped, the Watch Pony coughed and shuffled away from the desk. Her gaze was firmly on the glass.

Twilight took in her own empty glass on the desk and noticed with interest that Zahir did not have one of his own. Back in Canterlot, that had usually meant her interviewer – say, a tutor – was about to perform some disagreeable duty.

Next to his hoof, a brass lamp stood like a refined kettle. Twilight's gaze switched between that lamp and the Djinni.

“You’ll have to excuse Sergeant Blue Shift,” said Zahir. “Djinn such as her are not renowned for their good manners.”

“Under the circumstances, I think I understand where she’s coming from,” said Twilight. Immediately, Blue Shift cooled the glower and raised one eyebrow at her.

“Interestingly put.” Zahir returned the water jug to the desk. “Djinn are highly efficient workers. Being spirits, they do not need food or drink, they do not need rest, they do not even sleep, and – most fortunately for us – they can never disobey an order. Be it bribed, threatened, or worse, nothing less than its own destruction can stop a Djinni once it is under your command.” His hoof patted the brass lamp.

Twilight shivered.

She stared at the raised eyebrow of the Djinni, trying to imagine what it would be like to find herself compelled to follow an order. Like her limbs were being pulled on strings, or like some worm burrowing into her head, or like a burst of emotion shoving her aside within her own head. She imagined a foreign voice echoing around her skull. It could say whatever it wanted: arrest anyone on sight; attack this pony; steal this artefact; kill. And those strings would pull, that worm would break into the depths, that emotion would sweep her away…

“Blue Shift?” snapped Zahir. His hoof pressed against the lid of the lamp. “I believe you have a fugitive to find. Buff-coloured coat, young adult –”

“I did provide the description, sir,” said Blue Shift.

“Well, you’re not currently needed around here! Go!”

Her insolent glare should have made him burst into flames. Instead, she kicked herself off the cabinet and marched stiffly to the exit. Zahir’s head swivelled to follow her. Only when the door slammed did he pull a smile out of nowhere.

“Of course,” he said as though there’d been no interruption, “the price of such efficiency is a certain lack of intelligence. So long as you control the ‘anchor’, they cannot twist the meaning of your words. Your will is their will. Alas, when one commands a legion of such spirits, one cannot be clear with all of them at once. There are… complications.”

He’s working his way towards an excuse. Twilight sagged in her chair. This isn’t out of the goodness of his heart. If Pinkie’s taught me anything, it’s that some smiles are only skin deep. And his is barely sitting on top of the epidermis.

“Commander Zahir,” she said. “May I ask under what legal nicety I’m receiving this reprieve?”

His smile tightened to a thin line. Evidently, blunt speech wasn’t on his list of virtues.

Zahir coughed to break the silence. “We understand that you were, after all, well-intentioned. And clearly, if there had been a minor miscommunication issue – I fear Blue Shift’s report was unhelpful in certain respects – then I fail to see why a pony should be so unjustly punished.”

“But isn’t the law on Arabia Phoenix clear on the subject of civilian interference with Watch business? According to the Guidebook, Saddle Arabian philosophy demands competence and clear demarcation to establish peace, order, and trust among the public. Jeopardising the due proceedings of peacekeepers is a serious breach of those principles.”

Zahir goggled at her. Much as he was doubtlessly used to legal technicalities, he’d probably never heard them out of any criminal’s mouth – at least, not accurate ones – and certainly not when it was against the criminal’s own case. A mare who’s her own lawyer may have a fool for a client, but this client appeared to have a fool for a lawyer.

He burst out laughing. “Well said, Miss Twilight Sparkle. But look: surely you don’t want to be arrested?”

In all honesty: no, not really. If nothing else, it rather spoils the vacation. “I don’t think the law is interested in what ponies want. It could get messy.”

She felt a nudge in her ribs. Spike whispered, “What are you doing? He’s letting us go!”

“Yes,” she whispered back, “but it’s the principle of the thing. This is the law.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“It’s a matter of respect.”

“It’s a matter of getting out of here.”

“I… I’m sorry, Spike. I have to do this. It just feels wrong.”

“Very well, Protégé of the Princess,” said Zahir, placing hoof against hoof and both elbows on the desk. After regarding her for a while, he continued, “I’d like you to understand that we Saddle Arabians have always been good friends with Princess Celestia. And, by extension, with Equestria.”

Twilight’s stomach sank to the bottom of the depths. No… You wouldn’t dare… “Commander Zahir, please see sense –”

“Believe me, I understand what you’re saying.” For the first time since the interview had started, Zahir swallowed. Unlike the illusory smiles, this gesture seemed entirely intentional. “But how would it look if, upon her first day in our fair country, a close friend of the Princess ended up in a common jail?”

Now that Celestia loomed in her mind, Twilight’s thoughts tumbled down a new slope. What would Celestia think? Me, her student – breaking the law? She’d never look at me the same way again.

“You see, Miss Twilight Sparkle? While we and Equestria have an understanding, it has not always been a pleasant one. Even now, our diplomats tiptoe around certain issues, certain… subtleties, if you see what I mean. Only mutual respect and caution have kept both sides from… unpleasantness. If a very important pony – from Celestia’s own right hoof! – were found rotting in a jail, there would be questions.”

“I’m not a very important pony!” she wailed before she could stop herself.

“You kinda are,” said Spike, shrugging helplessly.

“Your good friend is right,” continued Zahir. “Maybe our diplomats could smooth it over. But maybe they couldn’t. There are many on both sides who do not like the alliance. Heated arguments would only be the start, and in Saddle Arabia, ‘heated’ is not just a colourful word. Even with Celestia the Princess of the Sun desiring peace, she could not defy everyone.”

Twilight sighed. And she’d know it was my fault. I’d never do that to her. I’d rather… I’d rather… Oh, no.

“But,” she said dully, “if it was a mistake, if the story wasn’t true, then no one could say anything?”

Zahir nodded, a teacher encouraging a promising pupil. “After all, Djinn aren’t perfect. Once we capture the thief's accomplice, who could say what really happened? Explosions, running, confusion: a lot of things can be lost behind a mist of uncertainty.”

“OK,” groaned Twilight. She pulled at her own eyelids, hoping the snap back would wake her up. “It appears I have no choice. What do you want me to say?”

Disappointingly, she heard a not-so-subtle “YES!” from Spike.

“Only that you will forgive us for our most shameful blunder, Miss Twilight Sparkle.” Zahir reached under the desk. When his hoof came up again, he was balancing –

“The Guidebook!” Twilight said.

“The Watch is always happy to help.” Zahir let her levitate it from his grip. “I fear the cover has been scuffed, but your book appears to be in one piece. And here are your saddlebags. It would be most cruel of us to hoard your belongings!”

Summoning the saddlebags to her, Twilight looked down. The “scuff” was a pale streak right across the front. Her ears drooped.

Zahir coughed again. “Oh dear. I do hope this brings you contentment, Miss Twilight Sparkle?”

“Hm? Oh.” She nodded once. “All things considered. This isn’t mine, really. It was a gift.”

“I’m sure your generous friend would understand.” He gestured to the exit. “Please, devour the delights our humble city offers its most esteemed guests. Our hospitality is our gift to you.”

Twilight let the Guidebook float alongside her. The instant she turned around, she did not look back at him once. Her stomach hit the bottom of the deep sea of her soul, and from the feel of it, it was dissolving away in a deep-sea vent. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kick, scream, or to find a hole to bury herself in.

Spike held the door open for her. “Well, that could’ve gone a lot worse.”

Waiting until the door shut again, she raised her head to the hustle and bustle of the river of citizens flowing both ways. Carts and laden pack donkeys ploughed through the currents. Merely watching them was washing the worst of the acid out of her belly, but she could tell the next few hours were going to sting.

“This is wrong,” was all she could think to say.

“You don’t deserve jail, Twilight. Only a crazy rule would do that to you for helping someone.”

Why doesn’t he understand? This isn’t about what we think is crazy or deserving. It’s like Zahir said. We’re guests, and we should respect our host’s rules so long as we’re in this country. Maybe Celestia would respect me more if I went back in there, contested it…

No, not if it means piling more troubles onto her crown. What kind of student would do that to their own mentor?

She glanced at Spike, who watched her as though preparing to jump should she explode. “You didn’t have to get dragged into this, Spike.”

Winking, he straightened up. “Hey, you know me. Happy to stand by your side, even if it is in the same cell!”

“So what should I do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t say anything different in case the Saddle Arabians find out, but… I can’t just lie to my friends either. They’ll want to know what happened.”

“Ha! Then tell them, duh. It’s not like they’ll blab it to everyone.” He rubbed his chin. “Maybe Pinkie Pie… but the others are clean. And if all else fails, you could make her Pinkie Promise.”

“Huh. I guess there is that. But still –”

Someone within the crowd shouted, “Aha! Twilight! Spike! There you are at last!”

They both spotted Rarity leaping through a gap between two camels, followed by Applejack simply bulldozing through a gang of pegasi. Flapping wings rained feathers down upon her Stetson.

“Did you know we were at the museum!?” Rarity said this with no small amount of giggliness, yet her eyes stretched under some latent shock.

Twilight gasped. “Not when the wall exploded?”

“We were lucky.” Applejack took off her hat, the better to beat the feathers off. “Both of us left a couple of minutes before. How 'bout you?”

“I caught one of the thieves!” Spike’s chest could’ve plugged manholes.

“Oh well done, Spike!” Rarity patted him on the head, earning a blush and a dreamy grin. “But you? All alone!? You could’ve been hurt!”

Twilight chewed her lip. OK, now’s the time to tell them. They’re your friends. Just be honest. I mean, Applejack’s standing right there.

“Er…”

Twilight shook the thoughts out of her head and realized Applejack was saying something.

“I'm sorry?”

“You OK, Twilight?”

No! I got in the way of a police officer and ended up in a jail with a thief trying to frighten the life out of me, and I almost caused an international incident, and the only way to solve it was to do the one thing I swore I’d never do when visiting another country!

“No one was hurt,” she said.

Technically, it’s not a lie. Nevertheless, she squirmed. Applejack gave her a raised eyebrow that made Blue Shift look like an amateur.

“Thank goodness for that,” said Rarity, whose curls were coming undone. “Although of all the things to happen on what’s supposed to be a relaxing vacation!”

“How’s everyone else?” said Twilight. She didn’t like the way Applejack’s stare narrowed into a sniper’s scope.

“Couldn’t say,” said Rarity. “I certainly hope they were nowhere near all this chaos!”

“But I caught one of the thieves,” said Spike, apparently hoping for another head-rub. “And they said it’s just a matter of time before they catch the other one. Problem over, right?”

“Yeah,” said Applejack slowly. “Ah reckon you’re right, Spike. Problem over.”

She stretched a forelimb over Rarity’s shoulders; the unicorn was starting to shake.

“It’s been a heck of a wake-up call for all of us,” Applejack continued, “but Ah think the best way of goin’ forward is to forget about it an’ enjoy our free time. Why, Ah’ll bet Cranky, Pinkie, Fluttershy, and Matilda are all waitin’ for us at the Café right now. Let’s not disappoint ‘em, eh?”

“I could see the smoke. There was so much smoke –” Rarity swallowed. “I-I mean… you are absolutely right, Applejack. Let’s… Let’s just enjoy things, shall we?”

“Attagirl! A nice cool drink’ll make us feel better, don’tcha think?”

“Sounds good to me!” Spike waddled forwards, sticking out what was technically his chest but which was superseded by his round belly. “Wait till I tell everyone about my daring capture of the deadly criminal mastermind! How we fought claw-to-hoof…”

Placing the still-levitating Guidebook into her saddlebag, Twilight followed them while her head drifted through a daze. Two hours ago, I was showing Rainbow Dash a statue…

“Has anyone seen Rainbow Dash?” she said suddenly.

General head-shaking. A frown passing between Rarity and Spike, who’d briefly taken a breath for the next chapter of his improvised oral saga.

“Ah’m sure she’ll be there.” Applejack waved the others onwards and fell in next to Twilight. She whispered, “Something happen, Twilight? Ah couldn’t help but notice the Watch HQ behind you.”

Twilight opened her mouth…

Unbidden, the thief's words crossed her mind: Quite a powerful magic you’ve got packed away in there. Shame if a horn like yours parted company with its head.

There’s the other one still at large…

She swallowed. “Maybe later. I’d rather wait until we were all together. Or back at the hotel. In our own rooms.”

Applejack shrugged. “Fair enough. But Ah can tell something’s buggin’ you. You know we’re here for you, right Twilight?”

“Of course!” Less loudly, she added, “Of course. I’ll… just feel better once we’re all together.”

“That’s the spirit! You and Rarity had a bit of a nasty shock, is all. Nothin’ to be ashamed of. It won’t spoil our vacation one bit. And besides, we’re together again now. Nothin’ we can’t deal with once we’re together, ain’t that right?”

A Victim of Circumstance

Over the rooftops, a pair of long-tailed paradise birds weaved through the air and around each other, their tail feathers streaming out behind, almost entwining.

Beyond lay the Desert, a haze from horizon to horizon shimmering through the heat rising from the city, but for the moment simple in its beauty, pale and gentle on the eyes, undemanding, silent, and still.

Even the city huddled quietly from up here. Streets cut through the heart-shaped domain like scars, but scars that had since lost their pain, become a curious part of the character, and let the body go on living. Crowds and carts slipped through them like tendrils of brown water.

Cranky and Matilda sat on the lip of the tower. They simply watched. Occasionally, the high winds smoothed down their coats.

Sitting around them were other couples. Cranky paid them no mind. Everyone knew what they were here for. Only the high winds whispered, and glancing about, he noticed several couples had closed their eyes and raised their heads. Manes flowed.

He felt young again. Once, in the days when hope had filled him to the brim and poured out of his eyes and ears, he’d tried his luck beyond the Equestrian borders. Perhaps, he’d thought, Matilda was a stranger who’d ventured forth. It would’ve been her style. Borne along by that hope, he’d come to Arabia Phoenix and asked random strangers and, at the end of a day that had singed his hairs, found the place they called Contemplation Tower.

He’d never forgotten the view. Close as it was to the sun, the peak was saved by the secret winds. There’d been fewer couples back then. Perhaps, even now, some of them sat alongside him too, no longer alone.

If he ever found her – he’d sworn, while the sun set and the sky dimmed and the Desert was swallowed by shadows – then he would come back. He would bring her here. They could sit in a silence that said everything it could, and speak louder than any speech, because some things couldn’t be said at all, but only experienced.

In some ways, he was comforted by the lifelessness of it all. The sun descended, the sands blew on, the world quietly and thanklessly supported everything that existed, and it had done, and was doing so in a million other places, and would continue doing so long after he was gone. He could almost see the countless lives staring out at the same dunes he saw right now, across endless years and unfathomable miles. No annoying voices, no unthinking stupidity, no barging in on him when he was trying to relax. And today, no pain. Nothing but a contented heart.

They’d named it Contemplation Tower for a reason. Some ancient Saddle Arabian monk had built it as a way to get closer to the stars. Apparently, he’d hoped to catch wisdom among the lights. The stories said he’d visited every day, and had died a happy stallion.

Cranky glanced at Matilda. Her smile was subdued, and the years stretched her face a little, but behind it – he was sure – she kept the bursting, blooming, broadening flare of relief, held back for decades and waiting to be released all at once.

He wondered what she’d been thinking the whole time. Had she been like him, slowly dying of despair with each passing town? Had she ever wavered, even flickered, for a moment in her belief that she’d see him again? That seemed to be what any normal jenny would’ve done, but she’d been so unsurprised to see him when they finally met.

Granted, Pinkie had prepared her in advance, but surely not by enough, and especially not in a matter of minutes? If anything, Matilda had smiled and cheerfully announced herself as if she hadn’t expected anything less of him.

Right when he’d given up. Right when he’d retired.

No. What else could he have done? She’d told him all those years ago that she’d come from a jolly nice town. Town? Ponyville had looked more like a village getting too big for its britches. He’d barely considered stopping, at least except for a brief second, while riding the train south of Canterlot.

It’s OK, the wind seemed to whisper in his ears. You are together now.

Yeah, he thought, but I could’ve searched everywhere. Not just the towns and cities. I should’ve tried harder.

You tried so hard. You were rewarded. You are together now.

Well yes, but… it took too long… I mean, it worked. Or at least I got lucky. Not much you can do about that, I suppose…

He sighed. There was no point arguing with himself. As Pinkie put it, he’d only win-lose.

Ah, well. What’s done is done. Funny: that’s easier to think when nothing bad has happened to me.

Eventually, at some unseen prompting, he and Matilda got up. They stepped with care; even a quiet hoofstep might be an unwelcome prod in the ear of contemplation. They descended the spiral stairs without saying a word. That suited Cranky just fine.

The temple they emerged into was candlelit; several figures sat or kowtowed or stood in utter silence. Even the attendant donkey monk bowed and mouthed his goodbye when they passed him along the back to the exit. Both of them eased the door shut behind them.

And turned around and walked right into the shouting, stamping, jostling, waving, laughing, snorting, careless crowds.

“Well,” muttered Cranky before a zebra bounced off his flank. “That was too good to last.”

“Look on the bright side,” said Matilda while he took a minotaur’s knee to the croup. “It was every bit as magical as you promised. While it lasted, I mean. We absolutely must come back!”

“Ow.” Cranky glared at the gaggle of earth mares giggling their way through. “Well, Pinkie better start saving up, then.”

“Doodle! You can pay for the next one. Pinkie’s done more than enough for the two of us.”

He sighed. “Yes, Matilda.”

“I think we should buy us a scrapbook. Given what happened to the last one, I’m sure Pinkie would love to see what new memories we put into this one.”

“Yes, Matilda.”

“And don’t use your ‘henpecked’ voice with me, Doodle. You know that’s unfair.”

“Yes, Matil – I mean, right you are, ma’am.”

“Very funny,” she said gravely.

Cranky and another group of ponies jolted to a stop, narrowly avoiding a collision. They circled round each other warily before continuing.

“Matilda, my love?” he said.

“Yes, my dear Doodle?”

“Where the heck are we going? I’m going to get bruises in a minute.”

Matilda laughed. “You’ll forget your own head next. The Epic Poetry Café, of course! I imagine the girls will have lots of wonderful things to tell us.”

“Can we get out of this crowd? Ow! That last horse just trod on my ear!”

To Cranky’s relief, they found a quiet side road and slipped down it. Sheer walls guarded them on either side, shade covered all but a narrow strip, and apart from the odd beggar sitting in a pile of rags, it was empty.

“Why, Doodle, I thought you loved get-togethers?” Matilda batted her eyelashes. “Remind me how we met again?”

“Come off it, Matilda. The Grand Galloping Gala is hardly a get-together. It’s more like a ‘stand-in-the-same-dozen-royal-chambers-and-act-politely-together’. Anyway, how often does anyone get to have a look around the castle?”

“You should go with Pinkie Pie. She and the girls always make things a lot livelier whenever they go.”

“Matilda, it’s Pinkie Pie. She could make a graveyard livelier.”

“Ha, yes. I could just imagine her inviting the skeletons and dancing with the ghosts. She’d use black balloons, of course. And a gravestone cake.”

It occurred to Cranky that Matilda had had years to get to know Pinkie. Either she was a good-natured and adaptable jenny, or she’d had her sanity beaten down under the sheer onslaught.

Stepping carefully over a long-legged horse beggar, Cranky grimaced. “This is going to sound strange, but in some ways she reminded me of you. When you were that age, I mean.”

“Good gracious, I don’t think I was ever that crazy,” said Matilda, who stopped to throw a coin into the beggar’s bowl. “Maybe in my teens, but you never saw me that young.”

“No, not that! I meant… you know… full of beans.”

They turned, following a zigzag trail through the maze of side streets. This area was much more open; actual sunlight blazed along one wall and cut through the gaps in the adobe towers.

“You have seen Pinkie Pie eating, haven’t you?” said Matilda.

“Darn it, you know what I mean! Full of beans! Energetic! Vigorous! Lively!” Then he caught her sidelong grin. “Oh, shucks.”

“Of course I know what you mean, Doodle. I’m just teasing you.”

“I walked into that one, didn’t I? Ha. So what’s changed?”

“Nothing. You’re still an easy target, for one thing.”

Cranky sighed. Anyone else suggesting that would’ve had words drilled into their ear, assuming his glare hadn’t blinded them.

“All right, all right,” he said. “I’ll tone down the crankiness, if it makes you feel better.”

She pressed her head against his neck; Cranky bristled at the curls scratching his jowels. “Just be yourself, Doodle. Nothing could be better than that.”

“Save the afterschool special for the little fillies, Matilda.”

“Now now, Doodle. One thing you learn in a place like Ponyville is that sometimes, the simplest truths are the hardest ones to follow. But the richest and the most rewarding –” She broke off. “Well, well, well! Look up there.”

“HEY! CRANKY! MATILDA! HELLOOOOOOO!”

Cranky did so, wincing as they entered a path of sunlight. Under his shielding forelimb, he could squint painlessly upwards.

At first, he thought the pegasus was overweight. However, as soon as it started drifting downwards, he noticed one yellow body and one pink one. Yellow wings flapped hard enough to blow gusts into his face. Yellow limbs wrapped around a pink torso.

The pink body’s face looked like it’d burst into a grin. The yellow body’s face merely looked like it’d burst.

“Pinkie Pie!” Matilda laughed.

After a grunt, the pegasus let go of Pinkie before they even reached two yards from the ground. Pinkie, of course, bounced and then landed smartly on all fours. Her less fortunate companion dropped belly-first.

“Have you seen Spike anywhere?” Pinkie said. Beside her, the pegasus panted and melted with sweat. “We thought a pegasuseseses’-eye-view was the best way to go, but now I’ve got no idea which way he was supposed to go.”

The pegasuseseses’ gasping groans suggested that “We thought” meant “Pinkie thought it and I somehow ended up doing it”. Cranky looked down at her.

“Er, you OK kid?” Course she’s not OK, you idiot! Just look at the state of her! How far into heat stroke victim territory can you get while still being OK?

“F… Fresh… as a… newborn… l-lamb.” She eased herself onto all fours, half-slipped, and eased herself fully upright again.

“You want some help?” Cranky watched her stagger. She was almost cross-eyed.

“Just… Just give me a second… to catch my breath…”

Pinkie put a steadying hoof on the staggering pony’s withers. “See, we thought the best way to spot him was to see as much, much, much of the city as we could see! But I can’t fly, and Fluttershy can fly, but she can’t spot things like I can, and I can spot things like I can, so I thought: Hey! I’ve got a great idea! What if we work together and fly and spot things like I can? And hey presto, you get Pinkie Shy! Or Flutter Pie! Hm… Flutter Pie… That sounds like a good name for a recipe, don’tcha think?”

Cranky smiled grimly. “In the middle of the day? In Saddle Arabia?”

“When friends work together, there’s nothing that’ll stop ‘em from winning against the odds!”

He turned to Fluttershy. “And you agreed to this?”

“At first.” Fluttershy tried to focus on him, but ended up focusing on his left ear and Matilda instead. “It… sounded like a good idea… at the time.”

“Spike?” Matilda frowned at them. “But I thought –”

“He changed his mind,” said Pinkie. “Last thing we know, he was looking for Twilight. Then, we kinda sorta lost him. But it’s OK. I know he’ll turn up sooner or later. Friends always meet up again, because they’re like glue. Or candy apples. Or chewing gum.”

Cranky once again marvelled at the optimism on display. A kid wandering the streets alone in a strange city which – whatever the authorities said these days – must still be a hotbed for thieves and lowlifes, and Pinkie thought she had the universe exactly where she wanted it.

He glanced at Fluttershy, who’d mastered the ability to stand upright but who had yet to relearn the art of not-swaying-while-doing-so. “How long were you looking?”

She shrugged, dangerously throwing her balance a step to the right. “How long since… we split up?”

“Three hours, I think.”

“Then…” Fluttershy’s lips moved with silent calculation. “Two hours, fifteen minutes? Give or take?”

Cranky gaped at her. That was another thing he was learning about Pinkie Pie, though. She was much too big for her body, so essence of Pinkie spilled out around her like an aura. Ponies back home had spoken to him in perfectly reasonable, perfectly calm, perfectly sensible ways, had scoffed at some of the less practical ideas he’d had for home improvement or for job-seeking. But stick Pinkie Pie in amongst them, and within minutes they were pulling out bass speakers, climbing furniture, and waking up with lampshades and punch bowls over their heads.

And there was logic of a sort in the Flutter Pie plan. The pieces were there, they all fit together, they solved the problem they were meant to solve, and all you had to do was throw out the bits marked “common sense”, “reality”, and “are you out of your gosh-darned mind?”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up soon.” Pinkie smiled weakly at them.

“Oh, Pinkie, Pinkie, Pinkie,” said Matilda. “And you too Fluttershy! Whatever will you think of next? Listen: why don’t we take a break, get a nice cool drink to refresh ourselves, and then ask the Watch for help? I’m sure Spike’s a smart little dragon. We’ll find him sooner or later.”

“Yes!” said Fluttershy at once. “I mean… uh… that is a good idea. I hope… Sorry, I think I’m still a bit woozy…”

“Here, let me help you.”

So they continued onwards, Pinkie bouncing ahead and going on about plans for scoping out the city, Matilda supporting Fluttershy and making encouraging noises, and he, Cranky, bringing up the rear. Looks like the circus is in town, he thought.

They ventured around the next corner. They made about five seconds’ worth of progress.

Then, they all heard the scream.

It cut off mid-way.

Another scream cut off again.

Pinkie jumped. Matilda jumped. Fluttershy went through the equivalent of six hours’ recovery time plus aftercare in a heartbeat, and practically shot up into the air on full alert.

Cranky followed their stares to the nearest corner. Another side road, this one darker than the others.

“Uh… Matilda?” he whispered. Suddenly, talking at even normal volume didn’t seem like a good idea.

“Yes, Cranky?” she whispered back.

“Did you hear a scream just now?”

“Was it the one that cut off mid-way?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I did.”

“Wh-Wh-What was th-th-that?” moaned Fluttershy overhead.

All three of them inhaled deeply and held their breaths. Pinkie crept towards the dark corner.

“Pinkie!” hissed Cranky. “What are you doing?”

She pressed her back up against the wall. One quick peek. They watched, not daring to rush forward and save her from herself.

When Pinkie looked back, her face was pale.

“Come on.” Matilda stepped carefully, as though navigating a mine field.

“Matilda!” Cranky slunk after her. “What are you doing?”

As they approached however, they heard voices. Muffled laughter. Not nice laughter, either.

“We should at least see what’s happening,” whispered Matilda over her shoulder. “That’s what we’d do in Ponyville.”

“We’re not in Ponyville!”

“Doodle. What if someone needs help? You’d rather ignore them?”

He held his hoof off the ground in mid-step. “N-No, but… but couldn’t we call the Watch?”

Ignoring his own words, he joined her in leaning over Pinkie’s back. Flapping feathers tickled his ears; Fluttershy peeked round the corner above them.

Past a leaning pyramid of crates – some leftover desire for normality seized Cranky’s brain and asked what all those crates were actually for – within the shade, a bunch of cloaked ponies huddled together. One uncloaked, rather off-white earth mare quivered between them. She was getting whiter by the second.

“Bandits?” whispered Matilda.

“I-I h-h-hope n-n-n-n-not,” whispered Fluttershy. After that, her teeth chattered.

From the alleyway, the off-white earth mare struggled to stand still against her own quivering. Something metallic glinted on her neck. Now that Cranky focused, one of the cloaked figures was glowing where a unicorn horn would be under that shadowy hood.

“I don’t have anything!” squeaked the earth mare. “Please!”

“Oh yeah?” said one of the cloaked ponies. The voice was feminine, though only technically. In another life, the rumbling boom of her tones might’ve belonged to the sort of headmistress who threw girls over the school fence for looking funny.

All the bandits’ horns glowed. Not a single one was a pegasus or an earth pony. At the earth mare’s hooves, sheets and dirt shifted. When the dust cleared, a pit sparkled.

“So!” rumbled the booming voice of what must’ve been the leader. “What do you call this, then? A mirage, is it?”

“P-Please…”

“We saw you rooting around here just now. The cheek of it! This is our patch, girly. Get your own street.”

“Of-Of c-c-c-course. I-I-I was just… aheheheh… I was just leaving…”

When she ducked and reached down to pick up the sparkling things, however, the knife twirled round. She paused. Once more, the blade glinted again and pressed against her neck.

“Oh no you don’t, lassie.” The leader stepped around her, idly taking time over each stomping hoof while the figure tried to follow her without turning a single neck muscle. “This looks like pretty good stuff, and what you’re doing was pretty bad stuff. Muscling in on our territory! So I’ll tell you what: you pay us the compensation we’re due, and we might just let you keep your head.”

“NO!” The mare gasped at the prod of the blade. “N-No! Please! I-I-I c-can’t leave without –”

“You dare defy me? Your head or your loot, girl! We won’t ask again.”

Cranky gulped. This didn’t fit anywhere in his vacation plans. His entire body yelled with the effort of expunging it, preferably by putting as much distance between itself and that scene as possible. That circle of shadowy unicorns. That wide-eyed terror.

“That poor mare,” whispered Pinkie. “We should do something!”

“Sh-Sh-Should we?” said Fluttershy.

My thoughts exactly. Those bandits look like they mean business.

“Yes!” said Pinkie at once. “A friend in need is a friend indeed! We can’t just leave her there all alone!”

Cranky blinked.

…also my thoughts exactly. I’ve been there a few times on my travels. Good grief, what I wouldn’t have given for a friendly face at those times.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I vote we call the Watch. Whatever you do, don’t draw attention to ourselves – Matilda!”

To his shock, Matilda stepped up and strode right up to the bandits.

“Matilda!” he hissed. “What the hay are you doing!?”

“Excuse me, ladies! Coo-ee!”

As one, the bandits spun around. Hooded though they were, puzzlement radiated from the group. Even the earth mare stopped shaking.

The leader loomed before her. “Who let you wander in? Get lost, lady! This is not your territory!”

“This is an open city,” snapped Matilda; Cranky instantly remembered an unfortunate incident involving a Gala menu, false advertising, and a waiter who’d ended the night crawling into the kitchens whimpering about a she-demon of a customer. “And even if it wasn’t, nothing gives you the right to behave so disgracefully! How dare you threaten this poor filly, you brute!”

“She’s going to get creamed,” moaned Fluttershy. “I can’t watch. Can someone tell me what’s going on?”

“Oh, boy,” muttered Pinkie. “It’s the Look. Matilda’s got the Look.”

It occurred to Cranky that Pinkie had had a long time to get to know Matilda. “A Look? Matilda?”

“Trust me. This is going to be one big ouch.”

“Matilda’s in danger!” Cranky stepped forwards.

“Not for her, silly. For them.”

True to Pinkie’s word, the bandits backed away. They must’ve faced police officers, backstreet lowlifes, and other bandits before now, but Matilda’s voice and glare was something else. And she did look like someone’s grandmother.

“We could’ve had such a wonderful vacation,” continued Matilda, “and we were too! This city is beautiful! Then we find you ruining the peace! Ponies of your age, lurking in alleyways? Waving curvy knives around? Good grief, what must your parents think if they could see you now? In fact, I’ll bet you haven’t even seen them in months, or written to them. Disgraceful!”

A couple of the bandits hung their heads in shame. The rest looked around for support, which is hard to find when everyone else is looking around for it too. Only the leader remained unmoved.

“Are you quite mad?” she boomed.

“Now look,” said Matilda. “In my day, when ponies stumbled onto your property, the polite thing to do was to ask them if they needed help and guide them back gently. If they wanted to be on their own, you let them get on with it. You certainly didn’t threaten them, or try to terrify the poor things. Different strokes for different folks.”

“Indeed,” boomed the leader. Her scimitar was unsheathed instantly. Behind her, the earth mare glanced down at the lowering knife near her neck; everyone else was avoiding any kind of eye contact. Hooves shuffled.

“Look,” said one bandit shakily. “Um…”

“Manners cost you nothing, you young whippersnappers. Now, what do we say to the poor mare?” said Matilda.

Hooves shuffled again. Cloaks squirmed.

“Uh…” ventured one of them.

“S… Sorry?” tried another.

“With strawberries and cream?” offered a third, not wishing to be left out.

Cranky gaped as the bandits stepped back respectfully. “How in the hay did she do that?”

“Oh, Matilda’s nice enough,” said Pinkie breezily. “It takes a lot to make her mad. But when she does go mad, whoo! Even Granny Smith steers clear of Matilda on a bad day, and she must be centuries old!”

“They… do seem to be calming down,” said Fluttershy, in the hopeful tones of one seeing light at the end of the tunnel.

“I know she’s got a sharp tongue around quality grape juice, I’ll say that much,” said Cranky weakly.

“It’s the age,” whispered Pinkie in his ear. “I once broke her favourite vase when I was visiting to look at her scrapbook, and it turned out it was one of the last things her mother gave to her long ago. Oh my. It was like Granny Pie all over again, but up to eleven! Twelve! Twenty five, even!” Pinkie shuddered. “Matilda didn’t forgive me for weeks.”

And I suppose those bandits help too. They sound kind of young. I know growing foals are supposed to lose the sparkles in their eyes when seeing their parents through ‘em year in, year out, but something about grandparents never changes. It’s like oak turning harder with age. Put a bodybuilder stallion around a granny, and suddenly he’s the scared little kid who spilled milk on the carpet again.

Only the leader was immune to it. She leaned forwards, scimitar rising.

“What a nice pearl necklace you have there,” she boomed.

Cranky stiffened. Even the other bandits shook their heads warningly.

“Uh…” said one.

“Why, you cheeky little devil!” said Matilda. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

The leader hesitated.

“Put that shiny sword down before you do someone an injury. You should know better than to wave things like that around, especially a smart mare like you.”

The earth mare tilted her head down. By now, the levitating knife was down to chest height. All the bandits watched the leader, who was also lowering her own scimitar under the onslaught.

Before she raised it again. “Meanwhile, back in the real world –”

Pinkie yelled and rushed forwards. Fluttershy zipped after her, on the basis that it was probably OK if there was someone between her and trouble. Cranky yelped in shock at the same time the leader raised her head in surprise.

The earth mare lashed out.

The knife that had hovered around chest height a moment ago now bounced off the wall, knocked the leader's rising scimitar out, and smacked against the opposite wall. Both blades clattered.

What happened next was too fast for Cranky to follow. Off-white blurs, loud yelps, and several thumps featured prominently.

Fifteen seconds later, the whirlwind of colour coalesced into the earth mare standing and panting. Half of the bandits were unconscious and sprawled either side of her. Down the side streets went stampeding hooves; the rest had spontaneously seen the errors of their ways and were already keen to look for jobs involving honest work and – more to the point – fewer chances of getting shouted at.

Danger over, Fluttershy landed next to her. “Are you OK?”

The earth mare grinned, or at least showed her teeth. “Never better.”

“That was amazing!” Pinkie bounced up and down on the spot. “You were like some kind of ninja-samurai-judo-boxing champion! One moment they were all like, ‘I’m gonna get you with this curvy sword thing! Swoosh! Swoosh!’ Next moment, you were like, ‘Enough talk! Time for action!’ BAM! BOOM! POW! KER-SPLAT!”

Finally getting her breath back, the earth mare said, “Thank you. I really mean it. For a moment there, I thought I was a goner.”

Feeling a bit stupid, Cranky loped over to them. He had a horrible feeling Matilda wanted words with him; her look was cold and not inclined to much sympathy.

“Those guys looked really scary,” he said. A tad too defensively, if he was honest with himself.

Matilda opened her mouth immediately, but the earth mare waved a hoof.

“Please don’t blame him. They were pretty scary. Terrifying.” She sighed at the ground. “It was my own silly fault. If they hadn’t jumped me, I might have stood a chance. But I was rushing through. I was careless.”

“It’s not a crime to rush things,” said Matilda gently.

“You really should’ve been more careful, though,” said Fluttershy, patting the mare on the shoulder. “They say the crime rate’s gone down in this city, but it’s not a good idea to go down dark alleyways at the best of times. Thank goodness you were lucky this time.”

“What’s your name?” said Pinkie. “Mine’s Pinkamena Diane Pie, but most ponies call me Pinkie. Or Miss Pie. Or ‘Hey you, turn down that music’.”

A flicker passed across her face. “Pinkamena Diane Pie? That’s… an unusual name.”

“Oh no. Where I come from, lots of ponies are called Pinkamena.”

“And what is your name?” said Cranky. He hadn’t liked the flicker, and part of him insisted he contribute something.

“Oh.” The stranger blushed. “Well, I, er…”

He glanced down at the sparkling pit. Hidden within was a trench coat, a wide-brimmed hat, a pair of sunglasses, one gold-looking sceptre, and something lumpy and dark. This last one was partially concealed beneath everything else.

“Oh, that’s mine,” said the mare, reaching down hastily with both hooves. “Just junk.”

“Nice sceptre,” said Cranky dully. “Very nice sceptre.”

“Ooh.” Fluttershy hovered over the pit and leaned down. “A lightning sceptre! I heard about them at the weather factory in Cloudsdale.”

The earth mare beamed up at her. “Really? Oh, but of course. You are a pegasus, after all. Yes, I picked this one up on my travels. Quality, isn’t it?”

“Those are very rare. I never thought I’d ever see one.”

The earth mare giggled.

As she reached down to pick up the coat, Cranky moved forwards and swiped. Heavy cloth slumped away from him. Below the coat, pink tendrils glowed.

“Doodle!” Matilda said. “For shame! Give her some breathing space! The poor girl’s been through enough.”

“That stone,” he said. Smooth, oval-like surface gleamed up at him.

“Oh, er.” The earth mare snatched at it. Much too late.

Even as she stuffed it behind her trench coat and slipped her legs down the sleeves, he knew he’d seen those blackened edges before. After Contemplation Tower, he’d tried his luck at some of the more cultural locales in the city. Out of passing curiosity, he’d visited the Paradise Museum. Not that he remembered much now, but when he’d entered the hall and seen the centrepiece, lurking like a dark spirit in the midst of the lesser gemstones orbiting it like model planets, he knew he’d never forget the Djinnestone.

Across the sky, an explosion boomed out. Cranky swore he felt the shock wave course through him in that split second before he realized the air was ripping itself apart under the echoes. Screams broke off in the distance.

Pinkie screamed. Fluttershy dropped a foot before catching herself mid-fall. Matilda brayed in alarm.

“What are you!?” yelled Cranky.

Slipping on sunglasses and hat, the earth mare reached down for the sceptre. “That’s my cue. I really am sorry about this. If there was any other way –”

“You thief!” Cranky leaped forwards.

The earth mare simply ducked. He hit the ground and tumbled over, landing heavily on an unfortunate bandit who’d just woken up and started getting up again.

He turned. The earth mare leaped out of range, but as Matilda, Pinkie, and Fluttershy were still several seconds behind on events, the leap didn’t avail her of much.

“Sadly, I can’t leave any witnesses,” she said.

With that, she held up the Djinnestone. Which glowed.

“Stop her!” shouted Cranky. “Darn it, you slowpokes! Get that stone off her now!”

“Whatever you say, Bossy Donkey!” Pinkie saluted and pounced.

A ball of purple flames burst out of the stone and wrapped around her. One moment, a pony-shaped inferno waggled its limbs in mid-air surprise, and the next, the flames flowed over and Pinkie was flat on the ground, pinned down by what looked like a Watch Pony in purple uniform.

The purple Djinni sprouted a horn. Flames whipped across. Pinkie’s four hooves snapped together. Cuff links jingled.

“Pinkie!” Matilda lunged forwards.

“NO!” Too late, Cranky was on his hooves. Not you too!

More fireballs shot out of the stone. Purple ones, pink ones, the occasional black comet: all spiralled around the earth mare’s trench coat and hat. Shades gleamed with each passing colour. All around, the remaining bandits who were awake now screamed and scurried out of sight.

Flames scorched past Cranky’s face; he grunted and raised a protective forelimb. “Matilda!”

“Oh my…” whimpered Fluttershy. “Oh my, oh my, oh my…”

“Cranky!” Matilda reared up and swiped at a feinting ball, but her face drew back in sheer terror. “Get the Watch! Quick!”

One of the fireballs engulfed her.

It was a quick process. Matilda-shaped flames darkened rather than illuminated the surrounding alleyway. They drew back. She fell to earth, cuffed.

With a scream, Fluttershy shot upwards, trailed by a single comet.

Another Djinni coalesced from another fireball and threw Matilda over its shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Cranky snapped. He’d put up with Pinkie’s tendency to scream a lot, he’d put up with having a whole gaggle of mares in tow when he’d been hoping for a quiet getaway, he’d watched his own beloved risk her neck while he hung back like a baby – rage exploded in his chest. Weeks and months and years and decades of Cranky Doodle Donkeys brayed until the alleyway shook and the world turned blood-red, and he and his heart and his pumping brain and his throbbing veins lunged forwards, mouth open to bite the world back into a less frustrating, less tormenting, less outrageous shape.

The earth mare leaped and vanished upwards.

Yet again, Cranky tumbled across the ground. Burn though his mind did, his body creaked and groaned. Too many years tramping down too many streets. He’d always preferred the quiet life.

“No, you don’t!” cried a familiar voice.

When he looked up, silhouettes rushed down the alley. Three mares, one of them Twilight Sparkle. On her back, a baby dragon gaped at the scene and hopped off instantly.

“They’ve got Matilda!” Cranky yelled.

A dozen fireballs whizzed over his head. The stares of Applejack, Rarity, Spike, and Twilight glowed with various shades of pink and purple.

Applejack moved first, leaping upwards. To his surprise, she managed to heave her rear half around in midair and – KICK!

One fireball exploded into an expanding ring of sparks. Even she looked surprised before she hit the ground before him. Cranky coughed at the resulting dust cloud.

“Well… that was easy,” she said.

Behind her, the sparks slowed, stopped, then shot back together. The revived fireball hovered uncertainly.

“Or not,” she added.

More fireballs spiralled around Twilight and Rarity, who backed into each other.

Cranky ignored them on the assumption that they’d probably figure something out, and spun round to face the earth mare. Through his pulsing, boiling rage, he noticed her backing away. Whatever her expression was behind those sunglasses and that collar, she suddenly didn’t seem particularly confident.

Two of the pony-shaped Djinn marched away, carrying Pinkie and Matilda over their shoulders.

POW! POW! POW!

Twilight and Spike shot past him, followed by Rarity. Shaking the surprise out of her head, Applejack immediately joined the charge.

Come on, Cranky! Get up! You’re better than this! Look at them, fighting for their friends! Come on, you old fool!

Yet another dozen fireballs sprouted from the Djinnestone. All three mares and Spike leaped up.

POW! POW! POW!

Sparks exploded outwards. All three mares and Spike passed right through, still charging.

What is going on!? Djinn shouldn’t be that easy to beat – Who cares!? Go, girls, go!

Strength returned to him. He got up just as the earth mare raised the Djinnestone one last time. Flames engulfed her. A wall of dark flames covered her, Matilda, Pinkie, and the escaping Djinn. The wall of fire shielded them utterly. Spike yelped and jumped backwards.

By the time the charging mares met it, the wall vanished. The alleyway behind it was empty.

“NO!” Cranky tripped and stumbled forwards. “She can’t get away with this! That ungrateful… That monstrous…”

In his haste, he stumbled too far and toppled forwards –

– into the waiting spell of Twilight Sparkle. Shimmering lights ran across his vision. Suspended halfway to earth, his front began easing backwards. His legs braced for the landing.

All around them, sparks hovered in midair. Even the ones that coalesced back into fireballs took no further action. The alleyway flickered with purple and pink lights.

“What –?” he began.

“We heard a scream,” said Twilight ahead of him. “And we saw Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie fly this way. As soon as we heard the explosion, I figured out the rest.”

“It was a trick!” cried out Rarity. “The thieves must have hidden the real Djinnestone while taking the fake one as a decoy in case they were caught!”

“Reckon they were plannin’ the jailbreak too?” said Applejack.

“I wouldn’t doubt it for a second,” said Spike. “That nasty thief was waiting for it.”

“Then, with a distraction, they could slip away unnoticed.” Twilight stepped forwards; Cranky saw her hooves appear before her and looked up into her businesslike frown. “But this doesn’t feel right. Once they obtained the Djinnestone, they must’ve realized how much power they had. Did you see anything, or hear anything?”

Cranky gaped at them. They were speaking words, and in bits and pieces they sounded sensible, but the whole washed over him like splashes from a sudden volley of water balloons.

One fact rose above all others. “She’s taken Matilda!”

“And Pinkie Pie!” Spike hopped up and down on the spot. “They must’ve caught her in the act!”

“How do we find her?” said Rarity. “For all we know, she’s slipped through a secret passage by now.”

Around them, all the sparks now completed their respective fireballs. No further activity ensued.

“Have they been… stunned?” Spike leaned across and tapped the nearest one. “Huh. Weird. It doesn’t even burn, look…”

“I think I know where to go,” said Twilight.

Cranky’s gaze sharpened. “Where? Where?”

“If that explosion was the jailbreak, then the two of them will rendezvous somewhere close by. Once united, they can check they have the goods and make their escape. I just hope they don’t get the idea to rendezvous elsewhere, or we’ll have no chance. Come on. I don’t think there’s much time left.”

“Uh… Girls!?” called out a voice overhead. “Girls!? A little help, please!?”

They looked up. Fluttershy and a rogue fireball circled each other endlessly in a yellow-and-purple blur.

“Oops.” Twilight blushed.

“Come down here!” called Applejack.

Fluttershy dived for the ground. At once, Applejack braced her legs. The fireball almost scorched Fluttershy’s tail trying to reach her.

A swoop. A leap. Applejack yelled, “HIIIYAH!”

Her forelimb swiped. Sparks exploded.

Panting, sweating, heaving, but at least no longer shooting along in a yellow blur now, Fluttershy lowered herself to the ground. Pity stirred in Cranky’s chest, but the words They’ve got Matilda! They’ve got Matilda! bubbled and multiplied in his heart. Slowly but surely, they poisoned him from the inside-out. He could feel the numbness and pain fighting each other across his torso and down his limbs.

“What shall we do with these?” said Rarity, gesturing to the floating fireballs.

Twilight shook her head. “We’ll deal with them later. Find the ‘anchor’, find the source. Now listen to me. I think I know where they might be headed…”

While they talked without him, Cranky willed himself to stay steady. Old age and new fears shook him. He looked up, past the slit of light between the alley walls, past the bucket-shaped water tower, and onwards to the distant peak of Contemplation Tower.

“Not again,” he whispered. “I can't lose her again. Oh, Matilda!”

The Colossus

The golden plaza was empty, save for the pillars and benches. On one side, the temple-like library loomed. On the other, the rich red clay of the preserved ancient temple loomed. Up ahead, the camel racing arena loomed. What the colossus did was shadow them all, brass almost blinding in the midday sun.

Between the globe-like hoof-shoes of Great Saddle, the earth mare tapped a hoof impatiently. Glowing in her other hoof, the Djinnestone swirled tendrils in a never-ending turbulence. Six Djinn encircled her. Two of them carried struggling sacks over their shoulders.

Twelve fireballs hovered over them. Secondary defence. The mare was taking no chances.

“What’s taking her so long?” she muttered.

Had she looked behind her, she might have noticed the crouching Twilight Sparkle atop one of the globes. That suited Twilight fine. The closer she got, the better her chances.

I hope this works, she thought. Opposite, Spike peeked round another leg and gave the OK-signal.

They all looked about. No one was approaching. Insultingly, the sun inched across the sky.

“Come on…” murmured Twilight.

“You getting impatient too?” said the mare suddenly. “I’m not stupid. I know you're there.”

Twilight sighed. So much for Plan A: Stealth.

When she stepped out, she reared up and raised both hooves in a gesture of surrender. “OK, you caught me. I’m not going to attack.”

“How did you find me?” The earth mare tilted her head. The hat’s brim flapped. The sunglasses slid slightly.

All non-laden Djinn about-turned at once. Four glares targeted Twilight. Twelve balls lined up before her. She didn’t move.

“I thought the Watch would’ve cleared this area for sweeps,” said the earth mare. “Of course, I've got my own ways in. And presumably you have yours too, eh? O great hero Twilight Sparkle?”

“Exactly,” said Twilight. “Midway between the Watch HQ and the alley. The most economical point between two vectors is the one that bisects the line connecting them. I guess it was a useful explosion in more ways than one.”

The mare reached into her trench coat. What emerged looked at first glance like a cherry made of papier-mâché.

“A useful bomb,” she said. “More specifically, a cherry bomb.”

“Hm. Not a Saddle Arabian invention. Smuggled from the eastern countries, I take it?”

“Of course. Handy in a corner, and besides, I’ve always liked mixing cultures. You know, it’s a shame we have to be against each other. I hear you’re quite a smart mare.”

She gestured with a hoof. As one, the Djinn aimed horns. The fireballs quivered with anticipation.

For a while, Twilight felt nothing but the heat of the sun, even under the shelter of the colossus. Plan B was riding on one very simple assumption that may nevertheless utterly collapse like paper in a bath.

The earth mare raised a hoof. Instantly, the fireballs stopped quivering.

“OK,” she said. “What’s the catch? You should be shooting off spells by now.”

“Catch?” said Twilight innocently. “The only one getting caught is me. I’m powerless against the Djinn that even All-Hazes struggled to contain. What possible catch could there be?”

“Where are your friends?” snapped the earth mare.

Twilight’s glance darted to the two struggling sacks. Their respective Djinn stared back with the utter unconcern of those saddled with risk-free chores.

“Hanging around?” said Twilight with a shrug.

Spike leaped.

Unfortunately, the two laden Djinn spotted him. Whip flames lashed at his arms and slammed him into the podium underfoot.

“Spike!” Twilight closed her eyes.

Under the teleportation spell, the world whooshed past. Opening her eyes, she saw the Djinn on the opposite globe, staring at or hovering around the spot she’d just vanished from.

The earth mare picked things up fast. She spun round. Sixteen shrieking fireballs burst from the Djinnestone, followed her gaze, and shot towards Twilight.

Just as Spike breathed over his cuff links.

Baby or not, a dragon was a dragon. On top of that, Spike’s particular brand of flame sparkled and danced with magic long since granted by a dozen Canterlot spells. Bits that didn’t melt off simply vanished along with the flames, which curled around and shot towards the distant rooftops.

He and Twilight leaped forwards. Neither had any real physical skill, but the Djinn hardly required any black-belt karate. Sparks blossomed and returned. Within a minute, sixteen fireballs hovered as though lost over the podium.

Lit from behind, Twilight and Spike cast their shadows over the earth mare. On either side, the laden Djinn took hasty steps backwards.

“Those Djinn are past their best-before date,” said Twilight, advancing slowly. “Not surprising: being crammed together in a hidden gemstone for over three thousand years can’t be good for you.”

“Now, see here –” The earth mare almost dropped the Djinnestone in her haste to skip out of range.

“I want to be merciful,” said Twilight. “Please understand. I can help you.”

The twelve hovering fireballs shot forwards. Twilight sighed. So much for Plan B: Reasoning.

Her horn flashed. So did the Djinnestone: out of existence.

At once, all fireballs vanished. Two sacks fell before Twilight’s spell caught them and eased them onto the podium. No Djinn remained.

Casual as Rainbow Dash, she stretched one leg across. Another flash, and the Djinnestone landed neatly in her expectant hoof.

Even behind her collar and sunglasses and brim, the earth mare’s gape was obvious. “No…”

“Ha!” said Spike. “That’s right. You don’t mess with the likes of us!”

“Control the ‘anchor’, and you control the Djinn. Now,” said Twilight while Spike clapped his clawed hands cheerfully. “I’ll ask again. Will you please come quietly? I genuinely don’t want to hurt you. I’ll see what I can do. I believe in second chances.”

“No…”

Twilight squirmed a little where she stood. Repeated denial in the face of the obvious wasn’t something she enjoyed dealing with. Opposite, the earth mare tore off her wide-brimmed hat, exposing the spiked mass that passed for a mane. She pulled down her collar, exposing the spasms torturing her lips. Finally, she swept aside the sunglasses, which cracked on the podium.

Embarrassment clutched Twilight’s heart. The earth mare’s eyes swam in misery.

“I didn’t ask for this.” Whining tones drained her of energy; she fell onto her knees. “I only wanted to do the job right. It’s not fair… It’s not fair…”

“It doesn’t have to be this way.” Twilight smiled down at her. “Some ponies make decisions that seem fine at the time, but only because they ignore what their conscience tells them.”

“I… I can’t…” The earth mare pressed a hoof deeply into her chest. Her collar hung slightly lower. “Do you… P-Please… I just… Can you help me!?”

“Yes. You don’t have to go down this dark path. If you’re willing, I can show you a better way. Sometimes, all it takes is a good friend to show you where to look –”

The earth mare pressed harder. Crackling yellow flared –

Twilight’s body exploded with nipping, slashing, spiking pain. Blue and gold blazed everywhere. Brief weightlessness freed her before the world slammed into her on all sides. Shaking bones and jerking muscles left her a little ball of consciousness, blank, helpless, tumbling.

She skidded to a stop. Glass-like tinkles died down nearby. Spike’s echoes called her name.

When her head stopped trying to shake her brain out, she focused on the distant podium. Lightning crackled around the earth mare’s chest before she lowered her hoof from it and hopped down to ground level.

“Lightning sceptre,” said the approaching earth mare, and in the depths of her coat the yellow glow faded. “Little something I stole from a temple once.”

“Mmmmuh…” Twilight forced her lungs and throat to move right. Her lips didn’t want to respond. Sparks crackled across her prone body.

Ahead by barely a leap, the earth mare picked up the Djinnestone. Scuff marks showed where it had bounced and tinkled. As soon as contact was made, fifteen fireballs flared into being.

Oh my. Come on, body. Get up! This is not what I had in mind.

The fireballs closed in.

Then paused.

Spike yelled as someone hit him. Twilight saw the little dragon as a purple dot tumbling across the plaza and bouncing towards the library’s columns. Each bounce got a yelp out of him.

Spike! No! “Mmmmoh…”

Rubbing her hoof on the podium was the unicorn thief. Another sack struggled over her shoulder.

Devoid of any kind of trench coat, hat, or sunglasses, the thief hopped down from the podium – sack bouncing on her shoulder – and strode over to them, calm as a shark fin gliding across the placid sea.

Grinning, the earth mare turned to face her. “You got out! I was beginning to worry my bomb hadn’t worked. Quick! Let’s grab her and go.”

“Soon enough.” The thief smirked at Twilight. “But first, that diversion. Want to keep them busy.”

I knew it, thought Twilight. She willed her limbs to move. More leftover sparks leaped from one to the other. She felt herself shaking against the tiles.

The thief frowned at the earth mare. “Three down. But still three to go. Where are they, anyway?”

“Beats me. Looks like the Djinn are weaker than we thought. We need to regroup. Let’s get out of here while we still can – OW!”

The thief’s horn glowed. In response, the Djinnestone zipped over to float beside her scowl. Fifteen fireballs vanished.

“Never send a novice to do a veteran’s job,” she muttered.

The earth mare gaped at her emptied hoof. “That hurt! Look, you’ve chipped the edge.”

Muffled shouts emerged from the sack. For a moment, Twilight stopped trying to force her body to move and listened. The harmonics sounded raspy. And spirited: the sack refused to shut up, and even through the muffling it ruptured the air with its sheer verbal violence.

Turning, the thief raised the Djinnestone high as an offering to the colossus.

“And if we’re going this far,” she said, “let’s splash out a bit, huh? I always liked good production values.”

“Took me ages to get the edge all shiny, and you’ve gone and chipped it. Thanks a bundle.”

The muffled shouts reached such a pitch it was a wonder the sack didn’t split open. In that moment, Twilight recognized the voice.

Rainbow Dash! No!

Across the plaza, the purple dot of Spike the Dragon rose unsteadily to its feet.

Come on, girls. Where are you? Twilight’s head trembled trying to rise a few inches. Her eyes strained in their sockets to look about. I need help! Now!

Pink and purple flared. She looked down the length of her own chest and stomach, past the gaping earth mare to the levitating blaze of the Djinnestone.

A dozen streaking fireballs spiralled outwards, and then another dozen spiralled after them. Blotches of fire obscured patches of the brass colossus, yet shrank as they neared it. The fireballs splashed on impact, and then seeped through the metal. Pink and purple and black stains faded away.

Metalwork groaned.

“Unlike you,” said the thief to the earth mare, “I think big. Colossal, in fact.”

Globes cracked underfoot. On the podium, the two abandoned sacks of Pinkie and Matilda squirmed under the raining debris.

A burning aurora flared into life around the statue’s outline. Pinks and purples and the occasional black streak fought each other in endless waves and eddies. Overhead, metal screeched when the head tilted downwards. Fire engulfed the cold smile on the gigantic face, twisting it into a grimace. Featureless eyes sparked; purple infernos glared, pink pupils contracted and enlarged experimentally, and when it opened its mouth and roared, the inside was pure flame.

Great Saddle yanked a leg out, then another. Globes cracked into two. Jagged-edged domes crashed onto the plaza as the giant carefully stepped off.

Twilight’s brain screamed, firstly at the vandalism and secondly for more conventional reasons. Her glare met the thief’s smirk.

How could you!? That statue was ancient. It’s survived so many wars, revolutions…

“That should keep ‘em busy,” said the thief. Her smirk widened. “And now, alas, I’m afraid the Bearer of the Element of Magic is just another heavy sack to lug around. Haha, how I’ve waited for this.”

Twilight’s struggles became frantic and as before utterly, utterly useless. Sparks still crackled along her body.

The thief sauntered over. Over her shoulder, Rainbow Dash struggled. Behind came the crashing footfalls of the statue taking its tentative first steps. The Djinnestone rotated gently where it hovered.

So much for Plan C: Backup. Come on, body! Please!

And then Rarity leaped into view with a “HIIIII-YAH!” Hoof smacked chin. Rainbow's sack thumped on the ground as the thief somersaulted under the force and landed with such a painful thud on her stomach that even Twilight winced.

“Owww!”

Djinnestone, bereft of magic, tinkled on the ground.

Scratch that: Plan C is a go! “MMrruh?”

“Sorry-for-the-delay-some-of-her-spirit-things-ambushed-us,” said Rarity in a rush. Beyond, Spike was a running figure closing in. Rarity’s glare forced the earth mare back; dressmaker she may be, but that painful thud wasn’t lost on the would-be attacker.

A crash of metal on tiles. Even Twilight felt her body jump off the ground for a moment. Surprisingly, the shock brought a bit of life back into her limbs. If her body was getting bothered by the unexpected lack of activity, the violent smack along her back was pushing it into panic territory.

The next step of the colossus was so heavy that Rarity, the earth mare, and Spike jumped inches off the ground. Twilight’s next smack loosened her forelimbs enough to flex them about.

“Darn it.” The earth mare spun around. Spike one way. She spun around again. Rarity the other. She turned towards Twilight, who sat up at last. Sparks of magic pushed out the last sparks of lightning.

The earth mare’s hoof reached for her trench coat –

“Don’t let her attack!” Twilight willed the energy back into her mouth, and this time it took. “Her lightning sceptre –”

The earth mare glowered. She slammed her hoof on the ground petulantly.

One cherry bomb rolled out of the sleeve and across to them. Its fuse fizzed.

The earth mare turned pale. “Uh oh.”

Twilight’s spine jolted her up to her neck. Momentum cracked further up to her horn. The last thing Twilight saw was the earth mare yelling and seizing the thief by the shoulders.

Then the world bloomed smoke. The blast tore chunks out of the ground.

Twilight’s shield spell shot out of her horn and rippled with the chunks crashing into it. Rarity yelped and cowered while debris harmlessly pattered over the swirling dome. Beyond was blackness.

“You OK!? Rarity!?” shouted Twilight over the din.

“Aheheheh!” was the reply. Rarity’s already-deteriorating curls were now a mass of spirals.

Another footfall crashed. The din vanished and they jumped up inches again. Smoke cleared, making way for the eclipsing bulk of brass and the one cracked hoof raising a hollow shoe over them.

The earth mare and the thief were gone. Rainbow Dash was gone. More to the point, so was the Djinnestone.

Twilight lowered the shield and focused on the teleportation spell. A flash later, the gigantic hoof stomped down, shattering tiles and scattering stones.

Between the empty podium and the library wall, Twilight and Rarity flashed back into existence. One brass head like a classroom turned. Across the plaza, one blazing eye aimed.

“Spike!” Twilight reached forwards. The blast had sent him flying back the way he’d come.

“‘m OK,” he mumbled, batting her hoof aside and pushing himself up. “Now what?”

“Where are those thieves?” Rarity’s mane whipped her neck while she looked about. “I’ll give them what-for! That priceless statue!”

Twilight’s heart roared its assent. The might of Great Saddle was just a bellowing, metal-screeching monstrosity. Flames burned with sickly colours. She curled her lip just looking at them.

And we can’t stop it. Without those thieves, we don’t have the “anchor”. Without the “anchor”, we can’t control it.

She checked the podium. Pinkie and Matilda were gone too. Fire burned in her chest. Those monsters will pay for this! For everything!

“Do something!” yelled Spike.

Brass crashed. Pillars ground under shifting colossal hooves. Flames opened the mouth of Great Saddle.

Twilight fired. She knew it was stupid. Djinn wouldn’t fall to spells at the best of times, one of the reasons the Watch were so competent. Her bolt of magic simply bounced off the brass breastplate. It was worse than armour; at least armour merely protected soft insides. This just protected more impenetrable metal.

A plume of fire streamed towards them. Instinct shot through Twilight’s horn. The shield bubbled around them –

The familiar blue fireball of Blue Shift shot out of nowhere and into the space between them. Great Saddle’s plume of fire engulfed it and then ran around and into it as though it were water down a drain. Rushing flames smothered the Djinni utterly with purple and pink hues.

“My word,” said Rarity.

“She’s absorbing the phlogiston!” said Twilight.

The plume finished. Blue Shift’s fireball turned blue again and then landed. Four hooves hit the plaza. Blonde foxtail whipped round. Pale face was calm and sharp as a resting sword.

“This is police business!” she yelled. “You have to evacuate immediately! Go!”

“You can’t win!” Twilight shouted back. “There are two dozen Djinn inside that thing!”

“The rules are there to protect you! I won’t ask again!”

Blue Shift leaped into the air and transformed again; her fireball shot towards the statue’s scowl. Pink blasts, purple flares, even snapping jaws that shrieked with the unnatural strain: Blue Shift dodged them all, weaving like a fly around an angry dragon. Even when the fire attacks struck, she might as well have phased through them.

Yet her own returning plumes and whips bounced off the brass. One ricocheted and hit a pillar, gouging a chunk out of it and sending it crashing onto the tiles.

Twilight didn’t move. There must be a way to beat it. Can we track down the “anchor”? But those two could be miles away by now. If only All-Hazes’ magic hadn’t been so powerful, I could’ve solved this easily…

“What do we do now?” said Rarity.

“I’m working on it. Plan D was contact the Watch as a secondary backup. I think that one’s taken care of itself. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no! Where’s Fluttershy? Where's Applejack?”

Her heart sank. Suddenly, she wanted every friend visible, right in front of her. Safe. The mere memory of that thief edging towards her, Rainbow Dash's sack casually thrown over the shoulder, gripped her spine tightly.

“There she is!” Spike pointed.

Indeed, a yellow dot zipped into view. A very small dot: evidently, Fluttershy wasn’t keen on getting a close-up of a statue visible from several hundred feet.

A snap: Great Saddle’s jaw missed Blue Shift’s zigzagging fireball, but in that heart-shocking moment the head froze. The gaze aimed up at the yellow dot instead.

“Oh no…”

Twilight waved her hooves frantically, but the plume of fire shot like a geyser. The yellow dot dropped suddenly in a panicky dodge. Another plume burst up, trying to intercept her. Arches of flames ran over the city.

We can’t waste any more time! Every second we waste on that thing – My goodness, the city! That’s the idea! No distraction’s better than an existential threat!

That… That MONSTER!

Twilight galloped towards the statue, ignoring the yells from Rarity and Spike behind her. If there was the slightest chance she could stop it, end it here and now… Her own brain screamed at her to see sense, but then the colossal gaze ignored Fluttershy in favour of her, and all thought ceased.

She jinked away from the first attacking plume, which splashed across the tiles behind her, and aimed her horn. There had to be at least one spell that’d work on the statue.

Telekinetic magic flowed across the domes and the legs. Under its influence, the aurora of sickly colours shrank down and transformed to a sparkle.

That's it!

Then one leg rose irritably. The spell cracked and shattered. Sickly colours flowed back in. Another pillar toppled as the leg knocked it.

Twilight jumped up inches with the stamp. Right in front of her, a slope of brass showed her reflection. The statue had tried to stamp her into the tiles, but whether through carelessness or mistiming had aimed badly. She skidded and jinked around the obstruction.

She looked up in time to see the statue sprout a single, flaming obelisk of a horn. More metal screeched as its hoof-shoes scraped across the tiles, ploughing them up utterly. It assumed a familiar stance: a magic-caster’s.

The air blazed with the magical charge.

Desperate, Twilight fired a shot. To her non-surprise, it passed right through the horn and fizzled out.

One boulder of fire shot out. Its surface swirled and rippled. The boulder shrank to a dot, small as the yellow of Fluttershy still hovering between a desire to dive down and a desire to fly off to the nearest horizon and hide.

The boulder exploded. In its place, a saucer of flames spread out, tore apart, became a gigantic firework that must’ve shadowed the city.

Fireballs rained down.

Bombardment.

Already, Twilight staggered where she stood. Too many knocks, too many bumps, too much strain, and now the horror seeping into her every nerve and daring her, torturing her, forcing her to shut herself down. Give up. Give in. Don’t die.

Fluttershy’s dot weaved in and out of the fiery rain. Over this distance, her screams were shrill suggestions in the still air.

Twilight shook out everything. She’d have only a few seconds, but one last burst of rage pushed her on.

She fired shields into the air. As soon as they hit, clusters of fiery rain incinerated the shields, wiping themselves out with the fuel. More shields bubbled. More fires flashed and went out.

Blue Shift shot up, ricocheting from drop to drop. Blue blurs wiped patches out. Soon, she’d cleared most of the air over their heads. Across the city, more Djinn shot upwards like mirror images of the rain; even the most distant ones couldn’t ignore the sky. They rubbed more clusters out of existence.

Still, they couldn’t get them all.

Chunks blew away from the rich red clay. A stray fire hit the podium, splattering the nearby plaza with yet more fires. Rarity and Spike yelped and backed away from the splatter.

As Applejack came galloping past the podium, a third struck near her. Years of rodeo threw her legs into a leap. She weaved through the stray shots. Twilight’s next shield wiped the last one before it could hit, and then Applejack launched herself at the nearest colossal leg and kicked.

Fractures split across the surface. Gouts of purple spat through. Knocked back, the leg crashed into the side of the neighbouring one. Tinny screams of rage screwed up the air around them.

Of course, thought Twilight. Even though the Djinn are encased, the statue’s still a physical object. It has weaknesses. And all that straining must be damaging it.

Physical object…?

There must be something about the phlogiston too. What was it?

Twilight tried to remember what she’d read in the Guidebook. A common assumption was that phlogiston was magical fire. That was an obvious mistake to make – even now, Great Saddle fired more plumes into the air, trying to knock nearby Djinn away – but spirits were something else. Not creatures of magic. Creatures without bodies.

Creatures of the mind.

I know this theory. I know it…

Commanding all her brainpower, she scowled hard. She’d discussed this with Celestia before leaving for the port yesterday. A Saddle Arabian theory of being.

Another screech of metal broke her concentration. Applejack landed and galloped between its legs. Great Saddle raised a rear limb that rained chunks of brass onto the steps of the arena. Rage screeched. It aimed its horn upwards – the air blazed with the second magical charge –

Forget it. The statue’s not the enemy. It’s the fire. Phlogiston is still fire.

Blue Shift’s fireball blossomed; flapping flaming wings, the Watch Pony dived at the horn, smacking it so hard the metal beneath the base twanged. The head juddered briefly. Blazing magic dimmed again.

As the Watch Pony flew past, the distant bucket-shaped water tower caught Twilight’s eye.

Water?

Back in the Watch Headquarters, she remembered seeing Commander Zahir pour out a glass of water. Blue Shift had watched him the entire time, and not with her usual glare either. Her face had been alert, like a fox watching a hound running towards it.

Tiles smashed underfoot. Everyone jumped a few inches with the impact. Twilight took a deep breath.

She had no idea if it’d work. She had no proof. But she had no time.

Closing her eyes, she gritted her teeth and willed. Heat began to swell inside her head. She tried very, very hard not to think about it exploding.

Far ahead, wood cracked. She forced her senses past it, feeling their way inside, running over the tons of water sloshing within.

She risked a peek.

One river of blue swirled through the air and weaved in and out of the rooftops to cut a shadow across the temple roof nearby. It rushed towards the blazing eye, and Great Saddle leaned across and eclipsed the sun.

Its head tilted. One blazing stare fixed on Twilight. She was straining as it was to keep the water airborne. She could not move an inch.

Please work, she thought.

One colossal hoof rose up to stomp. Twilight could see the hollow shadow inside the teeth of the broken globe. Part of her weakly laughing mind wondered how far it could press down.

Applejack and Rarity leaped over at once. Two voices yelled: “HIII-YAH!”

Such was the force that the eclipsing body cruised backwards, revealing the sun again. Its raised hoof missed and hit its other leg. Twilight bounced inches as the creature stumbled to stay upright on legs not built for speedy recovery.

Her waters smothered its face. Screeches cut off at once. Twilight ran the still-streaming river over its neck, across its breastplate and down its legs and belly. Soon, a shimmering package loomed over her.

But fire can boil water…

Under the distorting veneer of mobile water, the aurora burned on. Bubbles fizzed across its surface. Twilight felt her nose burn through sheer effort –

Last plan.

The water crackled. Whiteness ran up its legs and shot across its torso to its neck and head.

A colossal ice sculpture blazed under the sunlight.

And then, as though Twilight had fallen through a door she’d fought to bash open with a battering ram, she toppled forwards. Out of seemingly nowhere, Spike’s claws caught her before she hit the ground, and eased her back up.

Fractures ground against each other with effort. Bits of ice shook and fell off as white dust. Under the whiteness, the aurora flickered… dimmed… shrank… and went out.

The colossus was still.

Twilight could hear nothing except her own breathing. Then, the yellow dot expanded. Fluttershy’s beating wings wafted a breeze over her face. She didn’t realize she was burning so much, but the cool breeze woke her up to the contrast. Hooves clopped over to her; Rarity and Applejack stared up.

“Did we win?” said Applejack.

Phasing through the ice, purple and pink and black motes drifted in an unseen current. Rarity and Applejack stiffened.

“Don't,” said Twilight. “That's just the spirits disintegrating.”

True to her word, the motes faded into nothing. Soon, the air was still again.

In defiance of the exhaustion hammering at her door, Twilight grinned. Adrenaline rushed into her legs. She actually leaped into the air.

“HAHA! Success!” Delirium crowded her mind. She bounced about them, barely registering their puzzled looks. “We did it! We stopped all twenty four! We stopped half of All-Hazes’ Djinn, the worst of the worst!”

“Er… Twilight?” said Spike.

“I mean, true, they were exhausted and weakened and the stunt with the statue didn’t really help them much, but we did it! Oh yeah, and we stopped a statue! We saved the city!”

“I’m not so sure we did,” said Fluttershy.

The unexpectedness of this remark pushed through Twilight’s crowded head and smacked her one. She stopped mid-jump. She landed. She followed Fluttershy’s gaze.

Overhead, the ice was one big spider’s web. Chunks cast themselves off. Shattered fragments smeared water among the one row of pillars near them. One chunk from its shoulder splashed them with glass-like gravel.

Then, the statue underneath groaned. Embarrassing as a shipwreck in a treacle pit, the whole thing sagged and leaned away and groaned until gravity met the nearest temple and the rich red clay broke underneath its weight. Tons of brass sagged. Clay bunched up beneath the statue's chest.

The groan stopped, as did the statue. Halfway through the preserved ancient temple, or at least halfway through what was left of it. The whole resembled a child that had fallen onto a sandcastle.

Whooshing noises drew up behind them and then went whoomph. After a suitably cold pause, Twilight turned around.

Blue Shift stood there, tapping her hoof against the ground.

Twilight coughed nervously. “Uh… I don’t suppose it’s helpful to point out we just saved the city?”

Blue Shift’s hoof-tapping continued unabated.

“Ahem… I suppose the trespassing, property damage, and general recklessness need to be accounted for?”

Blue Shift’s scowl could have laser-sliced the statue in half.

Twilight tried a weak smile. Under her own sweat, it evaporated fast.

She sighed. Already, exhaustion burst through the door with its cronies, demanding back taxes and peering behind the furniture. Argument found its legs pinned down to its sides by the no-nonsense grip of guilt.

“Now, hold on a minute –” said Applejack instantly.

“No. Let it go, Applejack.” Twilight offered up her hooves. “Is the Watch looking for those thieves?”

“Of course,” said Blue Shift, sprouting her horn. “Every officer in the Watch has their description. Those criminals will have a hard time leaving this city, I assure you.”

Cuffs clicked around Twilight’s legs. Rarity spluttered with rage.

“But they have our friends!” she wailed. “You ungrateful –”

“We should be looking for them right now!” Spike hopped from foot to foot as though afraid he’d burn one if it touched the ground too long. “Don’t shove us back into that jail! I hate it in there!”

“I agree,” said Fluttershy. “Though of course I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“Too late for that.” More whips cracked from Blue Shift’s horn. More cuffs clicked among them all. “This is going all the way to the top.”

“Good,” said Twilight. “We can do something with that.”

Blue Shift held her gaze for one second longer than was remotely comfortable. “Subversive,” she spat.

“But look!” insisted Applejack, struggling against the cuffs. “If we hadn’t broken in here to begin with – Ah mean, come on. Like you’d have done any better against all them Djinn things. You’d have been knocked around like an egg in a barrel-rollin’ contest!”

“Nevertheless, you are under arrest. Everyone must pay for their crimes. Anything else is a mockery of the system.”

Blue Shift gestured towards the corner, past the craters and the scorch marks and the toppled pillars. On cue, the last remaining pillar creaked and fell over with a crash.

“Move,” she said.

“Just go,” said Twilight; Applejack had made to rush forwards. “We can work this out. Trust me.”

All the same, she and Spike brought up the rear. Exchanging glances, they sighed. That they were getting arrested twice in one day was not even the most groan-worthy part of it. As they passed, bits of Great Saddle’s jagged feet broke off and thudded on the ground.

They passed the podium. The ghosts of struggling sacks haunted Twilight’s mind.

Rainbow Dash… Pinkie Pie… Matilda… Hang on. We’re coming. I promise you. I just hope we’re not too late.

Being the only one not having to hop in cuffs, Spike reached across and wiped under her eyes.

Officially a Quest

How often can a pony say she’s been to the same jail twice in one day? Twilight thought, sitting in front of the main desk. Same filing cabinets, same crates, same dull sandstone walls. She swore the seat hadn’t even had time to cool.

Two Watch Ponies stood either side of the desk. Another two covered the corners behind her; she fancied their stares sizzled the back of her neck. Apart from their mane-styles and the colours of their eyes, they were copies of Blue Shift. Spontaneously, she wondered if they’d been commanded to adopt those guises to show uniformity.

Around the main desk, Rarity and Applejack paced. Neither of them seemed to know what to do with themselves. If nothing had changed since she’d last looked, then Fluttershy would be right behind her with Spike, patting him or simply holding him for comfort.

Twilight didn’t know what to say to them. After Blue Shift had dropped them off, Commander Zahir had listened to the Djinni’s account with wide eyes, clearly surprised to find someone like Twilight was a recidivist. He’d left half an hour ago, making smiles and reassuring sounds that didn’t match his nervous laughter or drooping ears.

What am I doing? Twilight rubbed her face with both hooves. I should’ve told the Watch the moment Pinkie and Matilda vanished. I know I’m not in Equestria. I should’ve stopped and thought. What’s wrong with me?

She didn’t believe her own thoughts. Part of her still saw the thief – the smirking unicorn – with Rainbow Dash’s sack over her shoulder. And the sight of Matilda and Pinkie Pie on the backs of those retreating Djinn in the alleyway. Even now, that part of her snorted at the idea of holding back. It wasn’t a duty. It was for her friends. She couldn’t have done any differently, she was sure of it.

Outside the window, the shadows of the buildings and crevices stretched.

“Arrgh!” Twilight rammed her hooves against her forehead. “How could I have been so stupid? If I’d just dropped Plan B, she wouldn’t have stood a chance! I actually had the Djinnestone, right there! I could’ve rescued Matilda and Pinkie instantly.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Twilight.” Rarity reared up and placed her hooves and chin on the desk. “If we had been more careful, we might have helped you sooner.”

“Darn Djinn things ambushed us!” Applejack kicked the desk on the other side. Since the desk remained desk-shaped, this showed considerable self-restraint. “Ah should’ve pushed past ‘em instead of lettin’ ‘em distract me.”

All three of them turned to face Spike, half-hidden in Fluttershy’s embrace. Repeatedly, she stroked his green head spikes down.

“Uh…” said Applejack. “You holdin’ up OK, Spike?”

Spike stared at the floor. Or possibly he was staring at something wholly within his mind, and the eyes merely pointed downwards.

“Poor Rainbow Dash,” whispered Fluttershy. “She was always so brave and strong. How could this have happened to her?”

“Those two seemed a little too well-prepared for thieves,” said Twilight, trying to distract herself from images of struggling sacks. Besides, the thought had nibbled at the corners of her mind for a while, and now Fluttershy mentioned it… “Think about who they managed to kidnap. We’re talking about a pegasus who can handle several g-forces and an earth pony who can pull party cannons out of nowhere. They even had a lightning sceptre!”

“Maybe they wanted to be prepared,” said Rarity. “In case they ran into those Djinn, I mean.”

“I don't think it's just that. This is all wrong. This is not something two ponies could have organized all by themselves. The museum break-in alone would have required help. Anyway, why kidnap any of us? Once they got the Djinnestone and broke out of jail, they’d only want to escape, which they were clearly capable of doing.”

“What do you mean, Twilight?” said Applejack.

“Think about it: they only had to incapacitate us whenever we encountered them, which would’ve been easy to do once they had the Djinnestone. Taking hostages just drags in unwanted complications.”

“Those ruffians?” Rarity sniffed and turned her nose up. “They probably commit such atrocities for fun.”

On cue, Twilight’s imagination supplied the smirk of the thief. A snakelike expression like that could only come from a mind as dark as the blackest pit. That thief had looked capable of anything.

Spike looked up suddenly. “We’ll get them back, right? They can’t have gone too far. With everyone looking for them and knowing what they look like now, we’re sure to see Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash again, right?”

No one met his gaze. Applejack and Rarity exchanged glances, and even Fluttershy coughed behind a hoof while staring at the floor.

Twilight at least looked in his general direction, even though her gaze was a bit unfocused. “I don’t think it’s going to be straightforward, Spike.”

The door burst open. Commander Zahir stepped in. He went around Fluttershy and Spike without a glance. Moreover, he was keeping his expression carefully blank. Nonetheless, Twilight noticed tics and twitches around his mouth before he sat down behind the desk.

“What’s the news, Commander?” she said.

Zahir’s long snout whistled with each breath; he sounded like a stallion who’d reached the end of his gallop. “If nothing else, ladies… and gentledragon” – he nodded towards Spike – “rest assured that the Watch is doing all in its power to locate those criminals. Even as we speak, Djinn are operating throughout the city. We’ve summoned all available hooves for the task. I’m confident we’ll find them and return your friends to you.”

And still he refused to make eye contact. Twilight raised an eyebrow and cocked her head.

“What’s the bad news?” she said.

“You must understand. Due process is important for the disciplined functioning of the city. Our philosophy is strict adherence to principles –”

“Forgive me,” snapped Rarity, “but what is this leading to?”

Zahir’s face jerked back in surprise. “Madam, I must stress that my role in all this is merely that of the messenger –”

“We’re in trouble, ain’t we?” said Applejack.

Jitters ran through his legs; he fidgeted and touched his neck and scalp. “Well, in point of fact, and since you ask so bluntly: yes, yes I’m afraid you are. The property damage alone is horrendous.”

“But that wasn’t us!” shouted Spike; they turned to see him leap out of Fluttershy’s grip. “That was the thieves! We were trying to save the city!”

“Mister Dragon, please! I am not your enemy here!” Zahir wiped his brow. “Frankly, ladies… and gentledragon… this has gone beyond my hooves now. It’s all gone political. The Grand Vizier himself is coming from the Imperial Palace to speak with you.”

“Why?” snapped Applejack. “We’ve smashed up places loads of times tryin’ to get rid of whatever evil doodad’s or thingummyjig’s tryin’ to take over Equestria. Sometimes, you gotta be prepared to take risks. Don’t you get it? Them thieves would’ve flattened the whole city if we hadn’t stopped that giant statue.”

Zahir squirmed in his seat.

“Applejack,” said Twilight coolly. “He’s just doing his duty. Leave him alone.”

“Ah’m only sayin’.” Fortunately, Applejack stepped back and pressed her lips together tightly. Twilight recognized the signs of a flood being dammed back. In private, she thanked her over and over.

The hinges creaked again. As soon as Zahir looked up, his face blanched. He shot to his hooves, his chair clattering behind him. Around them, the Djinn immediately threw their chests and faces to the ground in an extravagant bow.

“O Grand Vizier!” said Zahir.

“Now, now,” said a smooth voice from the doorway. “No need for formalities. This is, after all, an unofficial visit.”

Twilight turned. The Grand Vizier too was a Saddle Arabian stallion, but whereas Zahir crouched slightly as though to hide his height, the Vizier almost swept the ceiling with his turban. His robes were black and swept the floor as he passed through. He seemed to glide across the ground.

Memory brought her the pages from the Guidebook. The Grand Vizier was supposed to be a kind of chief minister in the Imperial Palace. He would peer out across the city and hear the petitions of a hundred horses a day, sometimes turning them away, often passing on recommendations to the lower branches of government.

Viziers also had a reputation as dark as their robes. Twilight looked into his motionless black irises. They regarded her without any apparent emotion at all, suggesting merely that he was weighing the pros and cons of her presence. Flaring shoulders and a descending veil behind his head gave him a vaguely cobra-like outline. Even his smile slithered across his face.

In short, he looked like the dictionary image of “Machiavellian”. Twilight felt the urge to leap at him there and then.

Which is silly, she thought sharply. Looked at rationally and reasonably, he’s just another figure of government and a stallion doing his job. Those dark robes are part of the official dress. Even the title just means “Bearer of the Burden” in the Millenoctibus language.

The Grand Vizier inclined his head in a bow that barely surpassed a “nod” classification. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Twilight Sparkle, Bearer of the Element of Magic. And your fine and loyal friends, naturally.”

Feeling it was expected of her, Twilight descended from her chair and bowed back. “Likewise, Grand Vizier.”

“Please call me Grand Vizier Zahir the Supporter,” he said.

Inwardly, Twilight sighed. According to the Guidebook, the Saddle Arabians only ever used the Ninety Nine Names passed on through hallowed antiquity. In theory, it was out of respect for the ancients who had laid down and described the virtues in several holy books. In practice, it was just the done thing, not to mention a convenient timesaver for parents.

“Uh…” she said, wondering how tactfully she should make her case.

Another smile slithered across his face. “Please excuse me. What was I thinking? Of course, this being an unofficial visit, the manner of address is unimportant.”

Applejack scratched her chin with the back of her hoof. “Yet you’re still here for some political stuff, am Ah right?”

Dark eyes flicked up. “Ah, and you must be the Bearer of the Element of Honesty. I see I shall have to be especially careful. Yes, I’m afraid I speak for many in the Imperial Palace, not least of all His Majesty Himself. I am given to understand that the situation is grave: considerable property damage, disrespect for demarcation, neglect of civil protocol. And from the Bearers of the Elements, no less.”

He strode over to the desk. Despite Commander Zahir stepping aside at once, the Grand Vizier ignored the offered seat. Instead, he opted to address them from the side.

Exactly as he would before His Highness, Twilight thought. The Guidebook had been thorough.

“Oh dear,” moaned Fluttershy.

“Worse,” said the Grand Vizier, “I must inform you that many in the Imperial Palace are outraged and suspicious. They believe you are a symptom of arrogant presumption inherent in the Equestrian hegemony. Some have explicitly accused you of stirring up trouble.”

“But –” said Rarity beside him. When he threw back his robe and placed a gilded slipper on her shoulder, she shivered.

“My dear Rarity, Bearer of the Element of Generosity, I am on your side. I have had the pleasure of corresponding with Princess Celestia herself. I simply cannot imagine – based on your noble exploits – that you would commit these crimes with malice aforethought.”

Twilight shivered herself; seeing Rarity squirm in discomfort was like witnessing a disease. Yet the Guidebook nudged her brain. After all, Saddle Arabians had very different ideas of what was friendly touching behaviour and what was inappropriate. Many Equestrian diplomats throughout history had complained of how close to their faces the Saddle Arabian counterparts liked to stand.

Zahir coughed nervously.

“Of course,” said the Grand Vizier, sweeping past her; Rarity gasped with relief, “I am a servant of the law. By rights, you must be punished according to our statutes. However, I am willing to offer… mitigation. As a goodwill gesture between our countries.”

“You mean…” Fluttershy gulped as he swept closer. “You mean we’re… not going to be punished?”

“Alas, would that it were so simple…” The Grand Vizier paused and studied her face. “Ah, and you would be Fluttershy, the Bearer of the Element of Kindness?”

Flushing red in the heat of his stare, she drew her forelimbs up defensively. Her nod rubbed her mouth against the pasterns.

“We will certainly save the worst punishment for those thieves,” he said, daintily stepping around her as though she were a puddle. To the doorway, he continued, “Amnesty for you, however, is not an option.”

“Why all this dancin’ around the point, then?” said Applejack stiffly.

Because Princess Celestia wants unity. We can’t have it if they think we’re their enemies. Or worse, if they think we’re violent, ignorant vandals. At least enemies have a kind of respect for each other.

“My dear Applejack, we can hardly count ourselves as allies if we send our most valued citizens to trash each other’s cities.”

“Now hold on one cotton-pickin’ minute –”

“Applejack!” snapped Twilight. “Please!”

“But –”

“He’s not trying to make things hard for us. We’re in this together.” At least, I hope we are. I know it’s mostly cultural differences, but all the same…

“Well spoken, Miss Twilight Sparkle.” The Grand Vizier turned and bowed once more. “Rumours and slander help neither of us.”

“You believe it’ll get to that point?” Twilight held her breath.

“Such is the nature of politics. Today, you vanquished an evil foe in the name of protecting the city – albeit in a rather unwise but ultimately well-intentioned manner. Tomorrow, you were using these criminals’ exploits as an excuse to flaunt your flouting of Saddle Arabian law, typical of your Equestrian arrogance. And the day after – who knows? Given the depths to which rumour and slander will sink, some will claim you hired the thieves yourselves. Unless we can come to a compromise that pre-empts such suspicion, I fear the next few days will prove… inconvenient.”

Twilight let her breath out slowly, blowing over the flickering flames of anger. “That’s why we have to be punished.”

“Sadly, yes. I wish it were not so. Perhaps these criminals hold the key to a compromise. I would, of course, value the opinion of a Protégé of the Princess.”

She couldn’t stop staring at his eyes. They were two black holes, sucking in every word, every deed, every tiny spasm on her face. Reptilian patience, emotionless itself, basked in the emotions of others.

She wondered what the others were thinking. Spike alone hadn’t acknowledged anyone for a long time; he seemed to be removing himself from this room, from this country, possibly from this entire day. Rarity paced again. Fluttershy looked to Twilight as though begging for an answer.

She had to agree. She had to disagree. Celestia had a whole country to consider, but she also had Twilight. Why didn’t I go to the Watch to begin with? Why didn’t I just stay out of it? Is it really Equestrian arrogance living inside me? But how could it be? I was only thinking about my friends. I’d never dare suggest anyone here was beneath me…

“Nothing, Miss Twilight Sparkle?” said the Grand Vizier.

Around her, the Djinn watched her, various emotions flashing across their faces: surprise, confusion, hatred, pity, sadness, anger. Checking behind the desk, she saw Zahir still standing, now staring at the floor as though afraid of looking higher than anyone else.

The door burst open. They all turned to look.

Blue Shift strode across, forcing Fluttershy and Spike to scurry out of her way. “Commander! We have good news! We’ve identified the two fugitives!”

“Er…” Commander Zahir glanced at the Grand Vizier. “Who are they?”

Blue Shift stood to attention so sharply she vibrated before the desk. “Carmine and Vanilla, sir! This is not the first time they’ve been involved in artefact theft, nor the first time they’ve operated within Arabia Phoenix.”

“Oh.” Zahir coughed into his hoof. “Well done, Sergeant. I don’t suppose this could wait until –”

The Grand Vizier raised a hoof lazily. “Let her continue, Zahir.”

“As you wish, Your Excellency. Um… Sergeant?”

Blue Shift gave not the slightest acknowledgement to the politician’s presence throughout. At this prompting, she continued, “We’ve also sighted them, sir. Scouts spotted them travelling out into the Desert. Sir, they have a head start, but if we invoked Hot Pursuit, we should have a good chance of catching them.”

Hot Pursuit. Twilight thanked Celestia over and over for the Guidebook. She actually beamed with delight. In cases of criminals fleeing beyond a legal boundary, the local authorities could invoke Hot Pursuit and follow them to make an arrest. A lot of misunderstandings – mostly violent – had stopped after Hot Pursuit joined the statutes.

Of course, once they caught the criminal, the legal niceties really began.

“Sir, I could head out there right now.” For once, Blue Shift swelled with excitement and her voice rang with it. “They need to stop for refreshments. I don’t. They have to rely on legs. I don’t. We should have them back here within twenty four hours at the outset.”

“Oh, good.” Zahir’s chuckle sputtered and died. “That’s settled, then. As guardian of your lamp, I thus command you –”

The Grand Vizier coughed. Genteelly, true, and so quietly that one could pretend to have missed it, but it was a cough with official backing. Zahir sagged where he stood. Pity flickered in Twilight’s chest.

“One moment, Commander.” The Grand Vizier scanned the ponies around him. “A thought occurs to me.”

“What is it?” said Fluttershy; she shivered under his cool stare.

“Forgive an old stallion his bluntness, but I’m given to understand you fine mares have confronted various forms of evil before now. Quite a list of accomplishments, or so I hear.”

“YYYYeeeaah,” said Applejack. “What of it?”

But Twilight’s mind had already clicked into place. “You want us to go in after them.”

Silence followed.

He must be crazy! Blue Shift’s right. We have to eat and sleep too. Send her! She’ll save Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie, and Matilda. We’ll have our friends back. I don’t care what the Saddle Arabians do to us then.

Regardless, she took in Applejack’s defiant glare, Rarity’s worried brow, Fluttershy’s half-hidden grimace of fear, and Spike’s utterly numb staring as though he’d long since given up hope of understanding all the talk. Her heart bled. She wished she could see Pinkie Pie’s face again. Or hear Rainbow Dash’s loud speeches.

In Equestria, she’d have already disappeared over the horizon, hearing the thunder of all their hooves behind her. How she stretched for that chance, how she leaned forwards at the mere imagining of it.

But…

“Let me guess,” she said slowly, slotting each word into place. “This would be community service.”

The Grand Vizier waved a hoof airily, shaking his robe. “Of a sort. Dangerous pest control, shall we say?”

“Constructive punishment that acknowledges the needs of tradition?”

“Of course. And with your reputation for bravery and skill…”

Twilight wished he hadn’t said that, but the momentum of the idea forced her onwards. “I can imagine. Established heroes are surrounded by all kinds of good stories and trusted legends. The details don’t matter. The spirit of the quest is what matters.”

“Beautifully spoken. Not forgetting the emphasis on an alliance. The Arabia Phoenix Watch and the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony, united against a common enemy. Yes, I believe they'll accept that. Retroactively speaking, of course. All manner of top secret missions come out in their own time, after all.”

Beside her, Applejack sucked in a shuddering breath and Rarity gasped with realization. Her own heartbeat flooded her with life again. She could see familiar ground again, as if she were seeing her Golden Oaks Library from afar.

Blue Shift was still standing to attention, but Twilight saw the shock petrified on her face.

Commander Zahir coughed. “Uh, Your Excellency?”

The Grand Vizier’s stare struck his white face. “Yes? What is it?”

“Uh… well, sir. That’s the Desert out there.”

A gulp came from Fluttershy upon hearing those tones. Twilight grimaced sympathetically. In some ways, her friend had near-prophetic powers.

“Oh no…” moaned Fluttershy. “You mean… you mean that big, hot, sandy, lifeless Desert? The one that covers half the country? And no one’s ever managed to cross it? Or come back?”

“Yes, sir! I agree, sir!” Blue Shift saluted and winced at her own thumped forehead. “It’s much too dangerous for ponies, sir! Let me handle it on my own, sir!”

“That is not your decision, slave.” The Grand Vizier towered over them. “However, we concede the point. The lands beyond Arabia Phoenix are not all as peaceful as this city. To venture forth into the depths of Saddle Arabia: that is not to be taken lightly.”

“We understand,” said Twilight.

Too right we understand. The Desert has over a thousand names, coined by so many tribes and during so many historical times that everyone just gives up and calls it the Desert. None of those names are nice. The best one is “the Teaching Desert”, and you don’t wanna know what it’s supposed to teach you.

She had to keep turning in her chair to address Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy, and Spike. “Well? I’m ready to go out there, but it comes down to what each of you want. You know this isn’t going to be easy.”

“Yeah…” said Spike vaguely.

“Pfft,” said Rarity. “Since when has it ever been easy? Of course we’re going.”

“You’re right,” said Fluttershy, standing grimly to attention. “I could never live with myself if I let you go out there on your own. Of course, so long as we’re protected, and well fed, and sheltered, and try and get this done as fast as we can –”

“Shoot, Twilight! Like you have to ask!” said Applejack, and she slapped Twilight across the withers. “Ha! You couldn’t stop me if you trussed me up and hung me off a tree.”

The three of them waited.

“Spike?” said Twilight. She took a step towards him.

Please say something.

He wiped his nose and sniffed. “I’m coming. Of course I’m coming! Maybe… Maybe I could come in handy, or… or I could send messages to Celestia. She and the Guidebook could help us, and… and…”

And you don’t want us to think you’re no good at anything. But we don’t think that. We don’t.

Treacherously, her mind showed her Spike tumbling across the plaza. In any case, dragon or not, he was still a baby, and still her ward.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she said.

The look he shot at her made her wish she’d kept her mouth shut.

“We’re friends forever,” he said stoutly, puffing up his chest. “Rainbow and Pinkie need our help. What else am I going to do?”

Wisely, she let it end there and turned to the Grand Vizier. “What about our things? They’re in the Felix Hotel.”

“We shall, of course, clear your rooms and hold your property for safekeeping. My assistants can prepare the camels and provisions for your safe journey.”

His gaze flicked towards Blue Shift, who spun around in the silence and caught it.

She backed into the desk. “Oh no! You’re not saddling me with these barnacles! Sir!” Desperately, she spun round to Zahir, who groaned. “Sir, you can’t be serious! This is a stunt, nothing more. The efficiency of the Arabia Phoenix Watch is paramount!”

Around them, the other Djinn sniggered. Zahir didn’t look anywhere but at the nearest filing cabinet, which he opened and from which he removed the brass lamp. He extended the leg towards Twilight.

“Very well,” he said in a calm voice. “Since Djinn can’t venture far from their lamps, as Commander of the Watch I entrust you and your party with Sergeant Blue Shift’s ‘anchor’.”

“What!?” spluttered Blue Shift. “But-But sir, the proximity range is generous enough! I could be after those criminals right now! All these camels and provisions will take ages! They’re timewasters! This whole stunt will subvert the cause of justice!”

“Sergeant! Hold your tongue!”

Mid-rant, Blue Shift’s mouth shook. She squeaked with the effort, but the lamp was in his hoof. One frustrated growl later, she subsided into a mutinous slump.

Twilight levitated the lamp from him. As she did so, a fiery glint caught her eye; Blue Shift’s face glowed as though about to burst into flame. She shook as though rumbling with volcanic-scale hatred for Twilight. Her glare darted from lamp to face as though she longed to scorch both of them with a flare and then burn them into ashes and then scatter the ashes in a hurricane and finally spit at them.

I’m sorry, Twilight thought. She levitated the lamp by its handle, trying to connect as little of herself to it as possible.

“Very well,” said the Grand Vizier, “it appears we have our compromise. Excellent news. And a quest across the dunes of Saddle Arabia into the bargain. I feel most privileged for having witnessed it.”

Cultural differences or not, Twilight fancied she heard a hint of delight that time. A delight with fangs in it.

To her shock, the memory of Cranky Doodle Donkey rose up in her head. She hadn’t thought about him the whole time. Matilda, yes, but her name had disappeared from memory just as quickly as it had arrived, and even then she’d eclipsed it with Rainbow’s and Pinkie’s.

“Of course,” said the Grand Vizier more stoically, “so long as one representative of each nation is present – and who could ask for better than Miss Twilight Sparkle and our… noble officer of the law…”

Blue Shift sniffed in a manner that put even Rarity’s snootiest snorts to shame.

“…then it seems to me we need not worry about the composition of the rest of the party. How convenient.”

I have to ask him. It wasn’t a thought. It wasn’t even a certainty; certainties could be wrong. But he had travelled, hadn’t he? He at least deserved a choice.

While the patrons of the hotel went back and forth or stood about, Cranky sat on a chair in the main lobby. Every now and again, he glanced up at the door.

What’s taking them so long?

He didn’t want to go to his room. If he stepped through that door and saw anything – Matilda’s dresses, her half of the bed, her towel scrunched up in the corner where she’d dumped it and hadn’t bothered picking it up again – well, he didn’t know what he’d do.

Overhead, the chandelier glittered. Funny: it almost looked like the one he’d seen at the Gala. Matilda had laughed at the gaudiness and said someone was compensating for something. At the time, he’d had no idea what she meant.

He glanced up at the stairs. He tried to glance down the corridor to his room, but his chair was on the wrong side of the lobby for that. Instead, he glanced at the receptionist behind the desk.

In the mirror beyond, he saw a tired old hack sitting in a chair. Grudgingly, he had to admit the hack’s toupee looked like it’d been stolen from a golden retriever’s back end. Knees stood out like doorknobs through a lazily hung-up coat.

Huh. Story of my life. There’s Cranky. Anything nice happening to him? Yes? Then let’s give him a kick. Ten points if his hair falls off.

Only last night, he’d agreed with Matilda as she’d gone on about the romance of Saddle Arabia. How close they were to the Desert with its mysteries. She’d loved the painting in their room: a train of camels crossing a shadowy dune at sunset.

Now? He didn’t really get it. The Desert was just an oversized beach with no water: the worst kind of beach. He’d seen camels when he’d last been here. The walking shag carpets smelled like chemical plants, and frankly gurgled like them too.

I should’ve asked her what she meant. Oh, Matilda…

Twilight came in through the entrance. At once, he shot to his feet.

“What’s going on?” he said.

To his surprise, Twilight almost leaped a foot into the air. “What? Huh?”

“The plan! You said you had a plan!” You sent me back here, you jerk! Do you know what’s it like waiting around, feeling useless, doing jack!?

Fear pulled her face back until she stumbled away from him. “It didn’t work! But we tried our best! Listen to me –”

“Listen to you!?” Even Cranky wondered where this rage was shooting from. A moment ago, he’d barely considered getting out of his chair. “I’ve been dying of worry here! I’ve waited my whole life to see Matilda again! You were supposed to be the best! You’re heroes, for crying out loud! And now you’re telling me your plan didn’t work!?”

“Please!” Twilight’s face paled. “There’s a chance we can get her back!”

Twilight’s leg was raised as if to bolt. Her ears drooped.

Cranky realized a group of minotaurs were staring at him. A cough from the receptionist broke through. His shooting rage stopped like a geyser finishing his blast.

“Er… S-Sorry,” he said. “Don’t mind us.”

After a while, the staring citizens turned away, muttering about Equestrian self-restraint, or lack of it. Both he and Twilight relaxed.

“What’s your plan, then?” he said gruffly. “This time?”

Twilight took a few deep breaths; evidently, she wasn’t quite prepared to believe he was over his shouting stage. “OK. I’ll give you the abridged version of events. Politics are involved. The criminals escaped into the Desert. We’re going after them.”

“What, now?”

“Tomorrow morning. We’re getting provisions.”

“From who? Politicals?”

Minotaurs chuckled near Twilight. She cast them a suspicious glower, then raised a conspiratorial hoof. Cranky raised a long ear and leaned closer.

“The Grand Vizier himself is involved. It’s all about the alliance between Equestria and Saddle Arabia.”

Cranky frowned. Romantic myths and legends notwithstanding, he remembered Saddle Arabia as a no-nonsense place. Daring quests across the Desert – with official backing, no less – were about as likely here as Hearth’s Warming with snow.

“So… what?” he said. “You went and asked him?”

Twilight rubbed the back of her neck. “Not… exactly.”

“What do you mean ‘not exactly’? Either you did or you didn’t.”

“Look, he got involved after… the, um…”

“That fireworks display across the city? I figured you lot had something to do with it. Hold on, let me guess: you failed. And old Vizier himself came to say, ‘Are you nuts? Get after those crooks and do it properly this time’?”

He wished he wasn’t enjoying this. Twilight squirmed so much she might have been trying to wiggle out of her own skin. But Pinkie’s gaff in inviting them still ached in his head, and the rage had left droplets of irritation.

“We’re going after them,” she said as though he hadn’t spoken. “My friends and I are setting off as soon as we can, but it’ll take a few hours before our supplies are ready. Everything’s taken care of.”

“Huh. Pinkie always said you were the organized one.”

Twilight coughed into her hoof; he recognized the Canterlot body language and smirked. “Oh. Did she?”

“Then again, didn’t you go to some upmarket school in Canterlot? Bet you learned everything there was to know about Saddle Arabia’s Desert in that nice, cool classroom, eh?”

“That’s not important. The point is that –”

“Have you ever tried crossing the Desert?” Cranky snapped.

At the reception desk, a bell tinkled. It sounded awfully loud in this prolonged pause.

“No?” said Twilight.

“Well, I have. I crossed it years ago getting to the next city. I hope you know how to follow the stars at night, or how to get water from your… well, I’ll spare you that little detail, but then you gotta know how to put up a tent and stop the camels spitting in your eye…”

Because if you don’t know how to cross it, you’re wasting my time. I’m not putting up with timewasters if it means going another day without Matilda. Equestria didn’t stop me looking for her, and you sure as sugar won’t either.

Twilight leaned back. Then she glowered. His own anger reflected back at him from that young face.

“Mister Cranky Doodle Donkey,” she said sharply. “I know what I’m doing. The girls and I are going. Spike is going. We’re not fools. Yes, I’ve studied it rather than lived it, but a suitably educated mind is no hindrance.”

Only then did Cranky feel it. The realization hit him. Of course, academically, he was aware of it and had been, but seeing those eyes…

“All right,” he muttered. “Take it easy, kid.”

“I’m going after my friends, whatever you say.”

I know, kid. I’m sorry. I mean it. I can’t tell you what to do about your friends. It’s not my place. You’re worried too, I’ll bet.

Pride locked those words away. Instead, he said, “I’m coming too.”

“And on the subject of going, I would like to ask you –”

Twilight was suddenly no longer stiff. A light flicked on behind her eyes. Cranky could almost hear the click.

“Come again?” she said.

“What do you think, kid? That you’re gonna leave me behind again like some worn-out coat? Forget that. I’m coming too. I want to make sure you do it right this time.”

Cranky waited until she stopped blinking.

“What? Thinking up some academic reason why I shouldn’t?”

“No! Of course not. I mean, I was going to ask… Oh, never mind. Look, if all goes well, we won’t be out in the Desert for long. We’ve got a Djinni with us.”

Despite himself, Cranky was impressed. “Someone actually gave you a Djinni?”

Twilight nodded, tight-lipped, narrow-eyed. “That’s how serious this is getting.”

“Boy, you must have hypnotized them to get a Djinni off their hooves. Those things don’t come cheap.”

“It didn’t. Trust me on this.”

They cleared their throats. They looked up at the chandelier.

“OK, then… Um… All righty, then,” said Twilight.

“Yeah,” said Cranky.

“I’m glad that’s all… settled. Yes.”

“You said it, kid.”

The lights of the chandelier twinkled. Ah, now it looks exactly like the one at the Gala. Maybe there’s still time to book tickets for the next one. We could pick up where we left off. Goodness knows I’d love to be young again.

He watched Twilight, who looked around as though she’d lost something. Well, I’ll say this much: least this time, I’ve got a heck of a magic-caster on my side. The number of times I could’ve done with one of them out in the wilder parts of Equestria. That chimæra alone wouldn’t have stood a chance, and let’s not get into the stuff with the Amaponian tribes.

She was shaking.

Now that he thought about it, he had virtually no idea what Twilight Sparkle actually was. There’d been some talk about how she’d learned magic from the Princess Celestia herself, and something about a moon in a nightmare – he wasn’t sure he’d remembered right, or had cared much at the time – but who she actually was? Not a clue. Since Pinkie Pie had singled her out for special mention, he figured she’d been some hyperactive nutcase too.

In fact, he’d largely suspected everyone in Ponyville of being nutcases. To whit: on his first day there he had stumbled upon them giving a musical number in the street. Not even rehearsing for a show. Just… singing. Goodness knew where the music had been coming from; he’d seen no musicians.

But now she looked like nothing but a lost kid in a mall.

Last night, she’d droned on about tickets and bookings and emergency regulations – correcting the steward who’d started lecturing them – and organizing everything short of the in-flight meal. And even then, she’d probably booked those too.

With that ruler-straight manestyle, she looked the sort who didn’t like things to be out of line. She’d smiled so often yesterday.

Cranky sighed. Not for the first time, he thought Matilda had a point: he was living up to his name. Old jackass that he was.

“All right, kid,” he said. “I’m coming. Now what do we do?”

Grasping at this conversational lifeline, she surged forwards. “Oh, we’re preparing the camels outside at the moment. Provided organizational efficiency is maintained, we should be out in the Desert within a matter of hours.”

“Hm. It’ll be nightfall soon, you know.”

“The sooner we leave, the better.”

“I meant it’ll be freezing brass monkeys out there.”

She stared at him blankly. Oh, that’s right. I forget. They only say that in the Frozen North and nearby, not in Canterlot.

“Figure of speech, kid. Guess they skipped that class in Canterlot.”

“Right. Um. Anyway, it should be just the five of us. I’m nominally in charge, and thus at liberty to select my own party members. However, I do want to stress that’s only in a technical sense. I say that actual authority will be determined by the decisions of the group as a whole…”

Am I doing the right thing, going with this nutcase? I don’t care if she uses slide rules and calendars instead of parties; she smells crazy.

Quit yapping, kid. Every second we waste is a second Matilda’s getting away from us.

Oh, Matilda. For the love of Celestia, tell me I’m going to see her again! Tell me this kid and her crazy friends are going to even the odds for me. I don’t want a rematch with a chimæra. I sure as heck don’t want to end up running away from a load of tribal spears.

“…enough provisions for a week.” Twilight cleared her throat, and her expression softened. “Don’t worry. We’ll get Matilda back, I promise.”

“Huh. Pinkie Promise, is it?”

“A Twilight Promise.”

Now it was Cranky’s turn to avert his gaze. Last time his eyes had hurt so much, he’d tried staring at the sun for a bet. Then again, he’d been kind of a stupid kid.

“All right,” he said, “but I’m holding you to that.”

Thanks, kid. Whatever happens, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I really mean it. If we get out of this in one piece, I’m personally gonna start calling you Princess.

“So…” He looked at his reflection in the mirror, and saw Twilight do the same. “Anything I can do?”

“Come outside with us. I’m sure we could find something. Those camels alone might be tricky.”

“Yeah? Well, the trick is that camels only spit to get a reaction. If you ignore it and put up with the occasional kick, they’re pretty much gonna lose interest. Now riding ‘em’s trickier, but that’s where the stick comes in…”

Twilight and Cranky ambled towards the exit, to the darkening streets and to the dying blaze of the skies of Arabia Phoenix. Descending to ashes. Awaiting rebirth.