Author's Note
This story fits anywhere in my Grumpy Goat series after the story Grumpy Goat at Play.
Hasboro owns the name Ponyville and the character Pinkie Pie, along with her pet Gummy.
Thomas the Writer, Dashie Writer and the remote controlled T82 Main Battle Tank belong to @ask-the-chan-family blog on tumblr and are used with permission.
Wind Whisper Soulblade belongs to @wind-the-mama-cat on tumblr and is used with permission.
Jinni and Sassy belong to the web comic Blood Bound where they are more normal and human like. They are used with permission.
Krystal Dragoness belongs to @krystal-dragoness-art-corner on tumblr and is used with permission.
Fume Hood belongs to @hyperburn3r on tumblr and is used with permission
HICCUPS!
It was being a quiet day out on the ledge in front of my cave. We were sitting on a bench, out in the sun, rereading Daring Do and the Secret of the Appleoosa Cave. The stout iron sheeting that blocked the entrance to my cave was warm behind us.
The lovely Coalsmoke, a pony of perfect glossy black except for her cutie mark, was leaning over where my shoulder would be, if I still had a body, or for that matter was even technically alive. She was admiring one of the illustrations in the book.
“I especially like these illustrations signed KD, Grumpy. They capture the mood and action really well.”
Sitting on my other side was the finely polished skeleton of an alicorn. He was the Litch King, Lord of the Dead, the being responsible for my present condition and now one of my few true friends.
He agreed, “Look at how well the artist has made the cave entrance look menacing. Whoever did this is very good.”
We were distracted from our pleasant reading by a flare of flame down on the trail leading up to my cave. Looking down the way, I was more or less expecting it to be the torches of another anti goat mob or, more specifically anti Grumpy Goat mob.
Due to my business, I am less than popular with some ponies. I have a thriving practice in Non Equine Magic. Mostly, it does not appear to do anything. Somehow, the desired, contracted for and paid in advance results just seem to happen by perfectly natural, if often bizarre means. Most of the time, those results are the advantage over, injury, death or ruin of some pony, paid for as mentioned, IN ADVANCE, by some other pony.
This time, it was not a mob. There was a wingless blue dragon toiling up the stony path to my cave. The next time that she flared, we could hear it. It sounded like she was suffering from a case of hiccups! Possibly not the best ailment for a dragon to have, since she was burping a smallish fire blast with each hiccup!
When she gained the ledge, she considerately turned her head out away from us. Good thing, too! She had two hiccups in quick succession!
She offered, “My name is Krystal Dragoness, KD for short. I’ve come to you about these hiccups. They are like to ruin me. I am at my wit’s end. See, I am an artist. I draw and paint. I get going on a piece and these hiccups start up! One of them is sure to hit my work, and, well, paper, paints, canvas and frames are all pretty flammable! I’ve even burned up brushes!
“Can you help me to end these hiccups?”
I nodded, making my skull, apparently floating on nothing, with its everburning candle between the horns, glowing snake like eyes and fangs bob. “I could do that, yes. It would not cure the basic problem, though. Hiccups usually have a natural cause from tummy and lungs not coordinating right. If I fix this case, it could easily happen again.
“Let’s dig into how this started and whether there is some underlaying cause that we can fix.”
Somewhat disappointed, Krystal nodded. “That makes sense. My first case of the hiccups like this happened at my one dragon show in the Sunrise Gallery in Manehatten. You know how those things are, lots of nobs that you need to chat with and lots of small snacks and drinks. The show itself was a pretty important one.
“I landed a contract to illustrate the next Daring Do book. There was some serious competition for that contract, let me tell you. It nearly went to Drawin Pitcher. She wasn’t too happy about me getting to do the art for another Daring Do book. This one will be my fourth.
“I had only just signed the contract when the hiccups started. The first one nearly incinerated my new contract! I was able to get out of the gallery safely when they began. I was lucky that I didn’t hurt anypony or any of my art.”
She absently pulled a sparkly topped muffin out of a bag and began munching it. Looking up, a bit embarrassed, she pointed out, “I really can’t share dragon muffins with you. They are topped with crushed gems and have gold or silver dust in the muffin part. I’m afraid that they are pretty toxic to non dragons.”
Coalsmoke asked curiously, “Where did you get them? No place in Ponyville makes them at all. Sometimes the kitchen in Princess Twilight’s castle makes up some for Spike but they never sell them.”
Krystal knit her brows in puzzlement. “I get them out of this bag. I always like have them when I am a little tense, like when I am concentrating on my art. Nibbling helps me to focus.”
Just then, she let out another small belch of fire.
Whistling softly, I thought carefully about what I had heard. “Tell me, Krystal, at the art show, did you have muffins like these?”
“Well, yes. Any well equipped bakery can make them. They just have to clean up carefully afterwards. They always serve them if I am going to be showing any of my works.”
I nodded and looked over at the lovely Coalsmoke, who is always a treat for the ol’ eyeballs and asked, “And where have you bought them since that art show in Manehatten?”
She paused, thinking. “I haven’t had to. This bag always has some in it.”
The eyes that I don’t really have widened just a bit. “It always has some of those muffins in it for you? When did you get that bag?”
She scratched behind the spines along the back of her jaw as she sorted it out. “I first noticed it just after I left the gallery at the show where I got those first hiccups. It’s always there when I am tense.”
I glamored my invisible spirit body to look like the handsome tan, black and brown goat that I was before the tiny mistake that killed me and destroyed my original body. Holding out a hoof, I said, “Just give me the bag, please. I am going to try something simple with it.”
Nodding affably, Krystal handed me the bag. I took it inside my cave and shut the iron door. That door and my cave front were designed by a good firm of military engineers to withstand an Equestrian standard military battering ram.
It only takes one anti-goat mob burning your house, your library, years of study, hopes for a degree and dreams of well paying work to make one take a few simple precautions. Add the mob trying to stone your burned and battered body to death to drive home the lesson in how how to hate most ponies. That trivial incident also motivated my simple and sensible precautions against a repeat of the problem. Like living in a cave. With a military fortress grade steel and iron entrance.
I turned about from sealing the door and asked Krystal if she was still feeling tense. Digging into the bag for a muffin, she replied, “Yes, a little. Why?”
The Litch King pointed with a foreleg of bone. “That is why. He just shut that bag inside his cave and it looks like you have it back.”
He turned his skeletal head to me and stated, “Grumpy, if you can, we NEED to help KD. Her illustrations really make a Daring Do book! Plus, we know now that a new one is in the works! We can’t let anything interfere with THAT!”
I shrugged and opened the door. I was not even surprised that the bag was not there inside my cave any longer. Krystal munched her muffin and shortly hiccuped another tongue of flame.
I pointed out, “That bag was behind six centimeters of forged iron. In spite of that, it homed in on you without seeming effort. Moments after you nibbled that muffin, you hiccuped another flame. I suspect that there is a direct connection. To be sure, we need to go back down into Ponyville. I know someone in the forensic chemistry lab at the police department. In the meantime, try not to nibble another muffin and let us see if that helps to control or stop the problem.”
On the trail back down to Ponyville, Coalsmoke and I tried to simply hold the bag instead of letting Krystal carry it. This wise measure proved impossible. The bag kept sneakily returning to her claws. After what happened up on the ledge in front of my cave, that was pretty much what was expected.
I have to admit that I was pleased by the simple fact that Krystal did keep her claws out of the bag. We got down the trail and into Ponyville without incident as a result.
Instead of my usual turning towards the town hall and the Hall of Records, to record a new contract, I trotted right on, with a right turn, headed towards the Ponyville Waste Treatment Plant and Falmire Marsh, which is fenced and actually the final stage of the waste water treatment, before it goes into the river.
Coalsmoke was most interested in why we were going where we were going. Soon enough, we came to a modest stone building close by to the treatment plant. The sign said,
Ponyville Police Department
Forensics Laboratory
Chemistry, Physical Evidence Analysis,
Forensic Autopsy
As I pushed open the front door, I explained, “I know most of the staff here. Sometimes they will consult with me, when a case is being a pain.”
Coalsmoke chuckled, “How often is one of their nasty cases the result of one of your contracts, Grumpy?”
A smallish unicorn looked up from where he was working at a desk, apparently compiling a report. “Not really all that often, Miss Coalsmoke. Even when it is, there is no actual evidence that can link the contract to the results. Grumpy is often a big help in sorting out how something that we are investigating happened. We pay him a proper consultation fee, of course.”
I introduced, “Coalsmoke, KD, I would like you to meet Fume Hood, one of the best forensic chemists in the whole kingdom. We are lucky to have him here in Ponyville.”
KD offered, “You have some unusual friends, Grumpy.”
I chortled, “If they aren’t unusual in some way, the aren’t worth having as friends.”
Turning my attention to Fume Hood, I explained what our situation was in a few words and ended with, “Think that you could do us a rough analysis of one of KD’s dragon muffins?”
He thought for a moment, tapping quietly on his desk top before nodding, “You say that the flame is mostly pale blue? Nearly transparent but pretty hot?”
KD shook her head in agreement. “Right. That is, unless I eat something with salt in it. Then the flame is yellow. Is that significant?”
Fume Hood said, “It MAY be. I would like to see both your normal flame and one from your hiccups. Please step over there. Dragon flame can be pretty handy for some chemistry tests, so we have a small indoor flame range.”
KD stepped over to the flame range’s head rest. Fume Hood lowered the room lights and suggested, “Whenever you are ready, Miss KD. Just give us a small shot of your regular flame.”
KD’s fire blast was impressively different from a hiccup flame. It was a bright yellow with some red to the center and flame tips that went to a bluish hue.
Fume Hood almost danced pleasure at seeing it! Perfect! Normal dragon fire. Now, let’s see what we get with one of those muffins. Go ahead and take one from the bag and eat it.”
He was watching the bag very closely as KD extracted the muffin. “Fascinating. There is only one muffin in the bag until you take it out. Then a new muffin forms almost immediately afterwards.”
KD contentedly munched her muffin. Within moments, she stuck her head into the flame range headrest and belched a nearly pure, pale blue flame.
Fume Hood smiled in chemistly joy. “Timing and color nail it! You were right, Grumpy. There is a direct connection between the muffins and KD’s hiccups of flame. The only reason that she flames at all with them is that, being a dragon, she has a natural ignition spark every time she exhales or belches. Whatever this vapor she is belching is, it is highly flammable.”
KD’s shoulders slumped. “Does that mean that I can’t have Dragon Muffins anymore?”
Fume Hood chuckled as he replied, “I suspect that you can have all that you want. Just not these, from this bag.”
He went to pull one out. Looking perplexed, he tried again. “Humm … I can’t seem get that muffin out of the bag. KD, will you get it please? I need to analyze it.”
Without any problem, KD extracted the muffin. Fume Hood took it and sliced it in half. One half he put into a beaker with a lye solution. It began to dissolve at once. Soon there was only some slightly coarse granules mixed with loose sparkly fragments of gemstones in the bottom of the beaker.
Fume Hood filtered out the solid residue and rinsed it with water. Stirring it with a glass rod, he explained, “The lye took away everything but the gems in the topping and the metal dusts in the body of the muffin. Now, lets see what happens next …”
He dripped some acid onto the residue. “Gems, gold, and silver won’t dissolve in this mild acid.”
In spite of that, something was happening! It bubbled and fumed something fierce! Happily touching it off with a sparking wand used to light his lab burners, Fume Hood pointed dramatically!
“There! You see? Pale blue flame! See the white residue? Zinc oxide. Your muffins are adulterated with zinc! It reacts with your stomach acids to make hydrogen and that is what, along with a bit of moisture and such that it picks up as you burp is what makes your so called hiccups! Just don’t eat any muffins from that bag and you should be fine.”
He turned to me and snickered, “OK, Grumpy. We are even now.”
I turned to the perplexed KD and Coalsmoke. “They needed an autopsy done last year. The cadaver was over a week old, in August. I glamored up a form with no sense of smell and did it for them. Death was from blunt force trauma to the back of the skull. Clubbed, to be crude about it.”
KD brightened up and commented, “If they get that sort of thing to deal with, it is no wonder that this place is beside the waste treatment plant!”
I agreed, “Right! Now all that we need to do is sort out how you got a bag that can do what this one does.”
KD put a finger to her cheek as she thought. “I do know where I got it. It was at that Manehatten art show that I told you about. The Dragon Treats that they serve at those things are always kept separate from the pony treats by putting them in bags. Somepony gave me this bag with a muffin in it, just before I signed that Daring Do contract.”
Fume Hood tapped me on my nonexistent shoulder and pointed to the bottom of the bag. There was a small trade mark in the form of a silhouette. There was a small bit of advertising too.
KD read, “Redline Party Supplies – For a party to remember for the rest of your life – If you survive!” She also pointed out, “That silhouette looks like a laughing wolf’s head.”
Fume Hood agreed, “It does look like that, doesn’t it? I know of someone who uses a silhouette like that on their business cards. Here.” He hoofed over a card.
The card read:
Doctor Mordenheim,
General Surgery and Prosthesis.
Everfree Edge Clinic
Practice inspected and approved by Princess Luna
I was delighted! “I know where that is! It was a small old castle that was supposedly built by a -” I made my voice low and shivery while making Hoof Quotes, “- ‘Mad Doctor’ long before Ponyville was established. It was in ruins when the Apples came and founded the town.”
Coalsmoke smiled and said, “Right, Grumpy. I know where it is too. I send my workers there for general health workups and surgery when it is needed. Doctor Mordenheim really is very good. It is not far from here, either. Let’s go see if he can shed any light on this business.”
We left, taking the Falmire Causeway that crossed the marsh, going out towards the southeast side of the Everfree forest. We paused by a street vendor’s cart to watch the antics of her trained alligator.
Have to admit that Pinkie has done a great job of training Gummy! I mean, he is two and a half meters of fun! Rumor has it that she has broken him to saddle, but she was not offering rides today.
“Gator Chow, gator chow! / The gators below are hungry now! / Feed the gators down below / It is really quite a show!”
A chuckling Coalsmoke hoofed over coins and got a big bag filled with large chunks. It said “Certified Gator Chow” on the label. She shared the chunks around and we spent a few happy minutes tossing them to the many alligators gathered hopefully under the bridge.
There were splashes and chomping a-plenty as the gators lunged about for each new chunk of the chow. We heard a munching from behind us.
KD, swallowing, asked Pinkie, “Where can I get some more of this stuff? It is pretty good!”
At our stares, she retorted, “What? Dragon here, remember? I don’t eat grass!”
We left Pinkie to her vending and went on across. It was not long before we saw the sign pointing to the forest beyond. It said, Everfree Edge Clinic, General Medicine and Prosthetics.
Only a little way up the designated path of yellow cobbles, we came to a small but well restored castle. I had to give this Doctor Mordenheim credit for showmanship. This was one classy clinic. The sign over an open door read Welcome to Everfree Edge Clinic.
Coalsmoke rang a bell labeled Ring for Service that sat on a beautiful mahogany desk in the lobby/waiting room.
We did not even get to try out the assorted seating and laying cushions. A large, near horse sized zebra with an eye patch came out of the back. His professional smile turned to a genuine one as he laid eye on Coalsmoke.
“My dear Coalsmoke! What may I do for you, or is it for one of your friends?”
Suddenly stopping like he’d hit one of his stone castle walls, he gave me a careful and most knowing look. “I do fear that the goat is beyond any help of mine.”
Coalsmoke smirked just a little as she replied, “You are correct. This is Grumpy Goat, my long standing friend, of whom I am sure that you have heard. We are not here for him.
“This is Krystal Dragoness. She prefers to be called KD. Our problem is sort of related to her, but it is not medical.”
Resting his chin on one forehoof, as he sat behind the desk, Doctor Mordenheim inquired, “If the problem is not medical, then what is it?”
I held out a hoof, “KD, may I have the bag please?”
I showed him the bottom. “Somepony named Redline is using your cutie mark on his things. It has some interesting properties.”
Mordenheim put his face in his hooves. “I know. I see that KD has it. She can’t lose it either. Whatever is in it, seems like an endless supply. I made it, years ago. How it got here to this world, I have no idea.”
He was sort of surprised when we all simply found seating and Coalsmoke asked casually, “So, how did you get here? More to the point, when you arrived, did you meet an elderly blue unicorn with a white mane, tail, and beard?”
Mordenheim looked blank. “What? No, I never met anypony like that.”
He got a seriously uncomfortable expression as he elaborated, “I would really prefer not to go into why I wound up here. Princess Luna knows in detail. Suffice it to say that the events led me to wandering in the Everfree Forest. I have no idea at all how it happened, since the Everfree is not all that big, but I was in there for over a week. Perhaps more, I am not at all sure. What I am sure of is that the path that I was on did not seem to double back on itself or any thing like that. Between sun breaks in the forest canopy and the scenery, I am sure that I was not going in circles.
“I happened on the ruin of this old castle. I might have simply passed it by but it had a small cobbled road leading to it from outside of the forest. I followed that road and it led me to Ponyville.” He shook his head in wonder, “It was a very different Ponyville than the one that I left. By good fortune, I met Caramel Treat, Fangrin and Reverend Smallflower. The rest all came from meeting them.”
I pointed out, “Fascinating as that is, it completely dodges the question of that bag and its neverending supply of adulterated Dragon Muffins.”
One of Doctor Mordenheim’s ears cocked up in fascination. “Adulterated? How?”
Coalsmoke filled in, “With lots of zinc metal dust, that’s how.”
Doctor Mordenheim winced, “Ouch! That would make mountains of hydrogen gas! That could cause a serious problem for a dragon!”
KD confirmed, “It sure does! The hiccups that it causes have been near the ruin of my art.”
Suddenly you could see things clicking together in Doctor Mordenheim’s mind! “KD? Art? Did you do the covers and illustrations for Daring Do and the Secret of the Apploosa Cave? The Adventure of the Singing Sands? The Nippony Diamond?”
KD nodded, clearly pleased. “All three! Why?”
Acting like a foal as he was going to his book shelf, Mordenheim snagged all three books and returned to his desk. “I love your art, KD, would you please autograph these for me?”
With an impishly evil grin, displaying her big dragon chompers, KD replied, “Sure!” She was reaching into the bag. “Just as soon as I snack on this muffin! Or, you make this bag harmless!”
Grinning right back, and revealing a set of fangs that would not have been out of place in a tiger shark, Mordenheim replied, hoof over heart, “You wound me! I was going to do that anyway. You did not need blackmail me. It did make it more fun, though!”
KD chuckled as she said, “I would not really have done it, Doc. It was just too much fun to pass up the chance. So, tell us, why did you make a bag like this?”
Reassured that we did not hold his apparent past against him, he sat back comfortably and half smiled at the memory. “Revenge. Count Sourbottom was being a problem, objecting to some of my experi … projects. He had a whole herd of foals of all ages. One of the youngsters had a birthday party coming up. I set up one of these for each of them! Loaded them with the finest, sweetest candies that I could locate. It was a near perfect revenge.”
Always interested in more ways to get back at ponykind for their mistreatment of me in the past, I asked, “How was giving his foals candy any sort of revenge?”
Suddenly, Coalsmoke put a hoof to her lips to suppress giggles. “Don’t you see it, Grumpy? He couldn’t take them away for discipline because the bags will go right back to the foals. Worse, the endless supply of sweets could cause all sorts of health and mouth problems that the Count would have to pay for!”
Mordenheim nodded happy agreement. “Last that I heard, Count Sourbottom was headed for bankruptcy on dental bills alone!”
Going more serious, he offered, “KD, we may be able to save the gem topping of your muffins if we are lucky. Would you like that?”
KD replied seriously, “That would be great, if we can do it. I really like their flavor, especially the crushed rubies. How can we do it?”
Doctor Mordenheim picked up the bag and headed for the outside door. Over his shoulder, he invited, “Come outside for a simple little experiment. We can save the gems themselves for sure. Question is whether we can save the topping that they are in or not.”
He pointed down the yellow cobble road leading to his door. “Now, my dear, take a muffin out of the bag but don’t eat it.”
Mystified, she hoofed over the muffin. “I understand why I have to get it out, but why not eat it? What are we going to do with it?”
With total assurance, Doctor Mordenheim replied, “You are going to eat it but in parts. Here, let me scrape off the topping.” Carefully he removed the topping, taking none of the muffin itself. “Just eat the topping. I will hold the muffin for now.”
With obvious relish, KD did. Licking it off her claws, she asked, “What now? I like this test!”
“We wait a bit to see if you get gas. If you don’t, the zinc is only in the muffin part.”
KD cocked her head, brow wrinkled in concentration. “I don’t feel any gas coming on. That usually happens pretty quick when it does.”
“I see. To finish the test, eat the rest of the muffin now.”
She did. And was soon hiccuping blasts of flame.
Nodding in confirmation, he said, “Just in the muffin then. We can definitely save the topping for you. Would you like just this topping or would you prefer it on something?”
“As it happens, I do have something that it might go good on.”
Back inside, she produced a bag. We all saw Mordenheim’s nose dilate as he caught the scent. His ears shot forward in interest. Drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth!
“What is that lovely smelling stuff, KD?”
“Gator Chow. I got it from Pinkie Pie over on the bridge. She told me that it is made from smoked and flaked meat pressed into bite sized chunks.”
Both Coalsmoke and I were rolling on the floor, laughing! Getting myself somewhat under control, I commented, “Those teeth of yours are real, aren’t they, Doc?”
“Yes, they are. Is it a problem?”
Coalsmoke, composing herself comfortably on a large cushion, replied, “Not for us. It was just unexpected. Looks like Pinkie is going to have to stock in more Gator Chow, is all.
“This explains why Caramel has mentioned you eating there a lot but I haven’t seen you, and I eat there too. You eat in the back, in her carnivore plaza.”
“Right. Now, KD, those Gator Chow chunks are just about muffin sized. That is about as big as the bag can handle. It is time to disarm the bag from those bad muffins.”
He got a large, heavy book from the shelf. Instead of consulting it, he held it at the ready.
“Now, KD, take the muffin out and move your paws away from the bag swiftly.”
As she did, he slammed the book down on top of the bag! He held it down for around a whole minute. Relaxing, he pronounced, the spell is reset. It can now be reloaded and set to anyone. Just a sec.”
He went into the back and returned with salad tongs and a spreading knife. Selecting one of KD’s chow chunks, he carefully and neatly spread the gem topping onto it. Taking the tongs, he used them to insert the topped chow chunk into the bag.
“Now, KD, just reach into the bag and take out the snack. That will reset the bag to you with a safe treat. You also now know how to change treats any time that you want.”
Saying, “Thanks, Doc!” KD fished out the treat and nibbled it down with gusto!
I was watching the whole thing with narrowed eyes that I don’t really have. Thinking it over, I pointed out, “KD, whoever set you up was at the show in Manehatten. The way it works, that spell didn’t lock onto you until you took out that first muffin.
“It may be time for a contract or a bit of detective work in Manehatten. Perhaps both.”
Thoughtfully she suggested, “There is another big art show in Manehatten in a few days. I do have a studio there with some finished pieces that I could enter if I could get there in time. That would give us the cover that we need for detective work if we can arrive in time.”
I suggested, “If time is a problem, I could try setting up a portal between here and the Manehatten fairgrounds. It has been a while since I studied that but it is really pretty simple magic.”
We all trooped outside and I began the really pretty basic preparations for opening a portal spell. I did add a whole lot of “stage dressing” rituals, circles and other misdirection. I always do. Better showmanship and it hides what makes it work from prying eyes, even if they are watching.
A glowing circle appeared in the air, just in front of us and barely touching the ground. Suddenly it began to grow, becoming a huge oval. Something enormous, making a steady pulsing roar and clanking like metal was coming toward us!
First, pretty high up, came a sort of short crossways tube with a hole in it on the side facing us. The thing continued to advance. That funny bit was attached to a long metal tube! Down lower, some big metal plates appeared and then between them an enormous bridge of metal. Huge wheels of steel supported endless linked plates of more steel!
As the contraption came on out, it was revealed to be a gigantic machine of some sort! It had sloped sides up to a heavy device on top that the long tube came out of. That had sloped sides too, as if this thing were made to bounce catapult shots off of it! There were some serious dents and obvious repairs that made it seem that those slopes were strictly functional!
Sticking her head up out of a hatch in the top was a pony who looked for all the world like Rainbow Dash! Reinforcing that idea was a brown pegasus with a black mane and tail clinging to the rear of the machine and calling out loudly enough to be heard over the machine’s roar!
“Dashie! Stop! You going to smash through garden wall again! You crush Jade’s herb garden again! You so grounded!”
Dashie retorted, “I not hit wall, dad! Big blue hole show up. I drive through that! Besides, last time I drive through Jade’s herb garden, I fix it better than before. She ask me to squash it again!”
“And one more thing! Dashie, you make me good hot tea or you so grounded you need dig up for thousand year to see daylight!”
Innocently she shot back, “If I that grounded, I make you nice tea that De Writer send for me to get you! It his idea to get it with remote control T82 Main Battle Tank! If I NOT grounded, I MIGHT be able to find you nice green tea that he never touch!”
The brown pegasus sat hard. “De Writer ask you to use Remote Control T82 IN CANTERLOT for that tea? You not so grounded as I thought.”
The one identified as Dashie noticed us from her vantage point, high up in the top part of the T82. She picked up a small boxy thing with buttons and levers and pushed one of the buttons. The T82’s loud grumbling fell quiet.
“Um, Dad, we come through portal, I think. You not teach me that magic yet. There ponies here and a dragon. Come around T82 and you see. There small castle here too.”
The brown pegasus stepped around the metal monster and courteously introduced, “I Thomas the Writer. Miscreant who drive T82 through your portal my daughter Dashie Writer. T82 is educational toy give her by De Writer.”
Mordenheim looked up at the behemoth of steel and remarked, “Where you are from has different ideas about educational toys than any place I have ever been.”
Dashie replied, “It crazy where we from too, but what you expect from powerful wizard like De Writer? Something safe? He good to have on your side when trouble come, though.”
She turned about and exclaimed, “The portal gone!”
It was true. Standing where it had been was a familiar cat otter hybrid with red hair. She was wearing a well worn cloak of dark green and light seeming chain mail. Mithril by the look of it. Her left arm was a prosthesis, a mechanical arm of metal that moved in an utterly natural way. Under the cloak was the scabbard of a large sword. In her mechanical hand was a parchment that looked like a map of some sort.
She tucked away the map in a pouch at her waist and looked about, her gaze missing nothing. Smiling, she waived! “Hi, Grumpy! It’s me, Wind! We met at Ponyville Fair, remember? I am part of Marchhare’s band of Rom. I was going to meet them at Haymarket fair, up north, but this out of control portal got in the way. I took the liberty of closing it.”
Thomas gave Wind a strangely puzzled look. “This world with Marchhare in it?”
She shrugged, “I wouldn’t be going to meet him and his band if it wasn’t! Why?”
Speaking to Dashie, Thomas said, “This important lesson, Dashie. How many worlds in multiverse?”
She replied, “Infinite. Everyone and thing have infinite copies, each a little different.” Raising her eyebrows in thought, she added, “This a trick question, isn’t it, Dad?”
“Sort of. You very quick. Every rule have exception, right?”
Putting hoof to chin, she thought and then went wide eyed with realization! “Every rule have exception, even that rule!”
Thomas lifted his wings in pleasure. “Right! This ONLY world in whole multiverse that have Marchhare! That is secret to navigation when go between worlds.”
Dashie blinked. “What happen when he dies?”
“Nothing, Dashie. Marchhare already dead. Not die twice.”
We were all listening in amazement. It was newcomer Wind who said, “That is sort of a relief. That there is only one of my foster dad, I mean. I have met some of myself and it was not the best of experiences!”
She put her jaw in her metal hand and examined the whole situation carefully. Turning to me she asked, “Did you cast the portal, Grumpy?”
Scraping the grass where I was standing with one nonexistent forehoof and looking down, I muttered, “Afraid so. Portals are not really my specialty. I guess that I really messed this one up.”
Wind stepped over and lifted my glamor’s head to look me in the eye. “I am an expert with portals. That one was really well done. It would have worked perfectly if you had not cast it here. The Everfree’s Hidden Ways are what messed you up.
“Now, where were you trying to go?”
KD interjected, “We were aiming for the fairgrounds at Manehatten by the Sea.”
Wind nodded in a very take charge sort of way. “I see. That is about 6 or 7 hundred kilometers from here.”
Leaning casually up against the iron monster called T82, Wind asked, “Does this thing have personnel and cargo railings and how fast is it, uh, Dashie?”
Dashie brightened up as she replied, “It sure does have safety railings! I use them when I give Mia and Becky rides. It can go as far as you want. Out in the open, it can hit 100 kilometers an hour! How did you know about that?”
Wind gave a delicate shudder, “I have adventured on a few worlds where similar machines were used. I saw the passenger railings on some of them.”
Wind smiled ingratiatingly at Thomas. “Would you be willing to let Dashie take us all on an Adventure to Manehatten by the Sea? It will get these nice beings where they need to go and be fun for us all. From there, I can easily send you both back home.”
Dashie had hopped out of the top of the T82 and began releasing catches and lifting up metal railings. They clicked as they locked into place. When she was done, she lowered a set of steep metal stairs to climb up onto the back of her “educational toy.”
Thomas watched with a skeptical lift to his right eyebrow. “I not say we go, Dashie.”
She looked him straight back in the eye as she retorted, in front of us all, “Right. All that you have to do is tell our hosts that you won’t do something simple and fun to help them.”
“That blackmail, Dashie!”
“Right. Between you and our De Writer, I learn from the best!”
He chuckled, “OK. We do it.”
Wind swung easily up the boarding stair and called, “All aboard for the Manehatten Express!”
KD swarmed up, found the engine vents, and curled up with a “Dibs on the warm spot!”
Coalsmoke gently pushed me toward the enormous device with, “I would love to go too, Grumpy, but I have serious business to talk over with Victor. The Princesses want to set up a program for helping wounded veterans of their armies.”
Dashie started the T82 and made a big turn. Wind guiding her, we set out for Adventure! And Manehatten.
Technically, we took Doctor Mordenheim’s path down to the Falmire cutoff and turned south towards the junction with Royal Road 315. For some reason, the busy traffic of Ponyville’s industrial district gave way before us, even when it had the right of way! Couldn’t imagine why! Surely it had nothing to do with fifty or more tonnes of steel monstrosity charging along at a “mere” twenty kilometers per hour.
We reached the Royal Road toll booth without incident. Almost had an incident there. The poor booth keepers were going nuts trying to sort out the proper toll.
Pages were fluttering back and forth in their toll manuals, “It ain’t a cart or wagon from any section! Darn thing is made out of iron like a fool locomotive on the railroad!”
“I know, Jeb! Can’t even classify it by team size or set up! It runs itself!”
Wind was sitting on the edge of the turret, which Dashie had taught us was the name for that upper part with the long pipe sticking out of it, and giggling at the small uproar.
“When Marchhare hears about this, he will split his harness, he will laugh so hard!”
One of the toll collectors looked up at her and got a beatific smile. “You are Wind, from Marchhare’s band of Rom, right? I saw you at our fair a couple of times.”
She nodded acknowledgment, “Yes, Sir. I am.”
He turned to his buddy and pushed the manuals shut. “Just write Rom from Marchhare’s band, toll free by Crowns Law.”
Jeb did write, though he was still trying to protest. His superior shut him down with, “Jeb, like enough you are right. Still, it solves OUR problem.” He tripped the gate mechanism and the flimsy red and white painted wooden bar lifted up out of our way.
We pulled onto the Royal Road. Besides less traffic, it was wider and better maintained than the Ponyville road we had come from. Dashie began to open up the speed once we had clear road ahead of us. I must say, I was impressed. Dashie was not kidding about hitting a hundred kilometers an hour!
The T82 was fast and high enough that we had to duck shade tree branches! A delighted KD had her sketchbook out and was rapidly drawing things from her high perspective!
Chortling, she explained, “Even as roughs, some of these will adapt to pictures for my book contract! This is great!”
Wind steered us into one of the many waysides, making Dashie slow down and drive gently as we parked for the evening. With assurance, she showed us where the free water and firewood were.
With a fond smile, Wind recalled, “I have camped here before, while traveling with Dad’s band. There is a small stream over in the bushes that we can get fresh fish and crawdads out of for a nice dinner.”
KD had out an easel and was busily drawing with colors. She was doing the T82 framed by a sunset of riotous clouds and glowing light.
She asked politely, “Wind, would you be so good as to pose there, just below the turret? I want your metal arm just casually holding something and your sword out in your right hand, ready but not on a guard.”
Wind did pose. It really did not take KD long at all to capture the feeling of the scene. The way that Wind was posing, it looked for all the world like she OWNED the metal monster behind her!
Done posing, Wind stretched and began doing limbering up exercises. With an expression of delight, and without even thinking about it, Wind began to dance and sing in a language strange to all of us. I did recognize it from my times at the Ponyville fair, serving mainly as security for Caramel Treat’s excellent food booth. The language was Gyptian, the sort of private and held secret, nearly melodious tongue of the Rom. I did recognize the dance.
She was treating us to the Shehan Ja Rom, their story of how the Rom came to be. I gather that it is the oldest dance and song of the Rom. As her dance and song finished, I remembered that the Rom did not clap for applause. I leaned my head back and gave the loud trill that the Rom use.
Wind looked sort of startled as the others followed suit. Embarrassed, she mumbled, “Sorry. It was just the joy of being on the road again.”
It was KD who said it, “Don’t be sorry. It was lovely. Is there an Equestrian translation?”
I put in, “I know that there is. That was the famous Shehan Ja Rom. The Rom traditionally dance and sing it in an Equestrian version to open fairs. What I am curious about is how Wind, who is nothing like any horse or pony, came to be a Rom and of Marchhare’s band at that.”
Wind sat near the fire and absently began to assemble vegetable skewers for Dashie, Thomas and I. “I made a little mistake while adventuring. I survived it, obviously. Mama Dragon fixed me up and sent me here, to this Equestria to finish healing and recuperate. De Writer met me and steered me to Marchhare’s band.
“Good thing, too. One of my wounds developed a small inflammation that could have killed me. Black Lotus, Marchhare and Hoof Dancer, his wife at the time, healed me. Mama Dragon was wise in sending me to them for a month. I had more than physical wounds to heal. I joined them and learned to read, write and speak Gyptian. Having a real caring and extended family provided the rest of the healing that I needed. Now, I have my Freedom and I can come and go as I wish, but my Rom family is always there for me.”
I could tell that there was a lot left out but Wind cut her tale off without harming her tail by asking, “Grumpy, will you tend these skewers for me while I go catch some fish, crawdads and a bunny or two for dinner to share with KD?”
I realized at once that besides being an adventurer, Wind was quite diplomatic. She had just reminded the lot of us that KD had not eaten all day, except for snacks, and that both she and Wind were carnivores. Possibly hungry carnivores.
Dashie took off too, calling, “Wind! Wait up! I want see how you hunt and fish without fancy gear.”
Wind looked back, nodded and then beckoned with a finger curl. As soon as Dashie was up to her, Wind slid into the brush without a sound. Dashie, trying to follow was pretty quiet.
Coming to the creek bank, Wind laid flat and wriggled forward on her stomach. Carefully parting the small thin wands of the bank willows, she slid her right arm into the water, reaching back, under the cut bank. Her face screwed up with concentration, she eased her hand up, feeling for a fish. Smiling, she slid her hand further up and grabbed!
Rolling back and lifting, Wind flipped the good sized trout out onto the bank! She caught the flopping creature and bent its head back to break its neck. She snipped off a thin bank willow strand with her knife and laced it through the fish’s gills and out the mouth. Loosely knotting the ends, she hung the fish up and repeated the trick three more times!
Dashie was watching with awe. “I never even hear of fishing that way! How you do it?”
Wind picked up her willow loop with fish and replied, “It takes practice to tickle trout but it is not really hard. You need to be careful and gentle. When you feel the fish with your fingers, you need to work your way up until you feel the pectoral fins, those just behind the gills. Snap your fingers into the gills and lift it out quickly.
“Now for a nice brace of bunnies and dinner will ready to cook.”
Dashie, keeping her voice down, asked, “I see warren right over there. How you catch them? Some kind of trap?”
Wind, following Dashie’s pointing hoof, shook her head. “I could, and if we were going to be here longer, I would set some snares. Since it is only dinner and breakfast, I will just pounce them. It is easier and quicker.”
Dashie watched Wind ghost her way through the brush toward the warren. Choosing her place, she waited, a bunched spring of living huntress. Nothing moved except for the tip of her tail twitching slightly. It was only a few minutes before a bunny hopped lazily toward one of the main holes of the warren. Wind’s pounce included a fast chop with her metal hand! The bunny only twitched once before going still.
Wind quietly picked a different spot and soon had a second bunny!
Bearing her prey, Wind and Dashie returned to camp. On their way, Wind asked, “Why did you want to see how I got fish and bunnies? Most ponies really don’t want to see that.”
Face flaming a little with embarrassment, Dashie replied, “I am sort of, like half dragon. I turn into one if I need to or want to. Thing is, I not very good at getting meat to eat! I have to turn back to a pony and graze up dinner! There are times that really inconvenient!”
Wind chuckled. “I can see that! We have one more stop before Manehatten by the Sea. I will take you out hunting there too, OK?”
Back at camp, Wind considerately went to the other side of the T82 to clean and prepare her catch. A lightly drooling KD went to help! They both returned to the camp, licking their lips and smiling. They were finishing up with some of KD’s endless supply of Gator Chow. Wind had carefully cleaned off the gem topping from hers and used it to enhance KD’s snack.
As we were settling about the fire, Dashie asked, “Um, Wind, did Rom hold you prisoner some way? You say you have your freedom.”
Wind chuckled at the misunderstanding. “No, Dashie. The Rom Freedom is a thing that they wear. Here, I have mine in my bag.”
She reached into her bag at her waist and her arm seemed to go in further than was possible. She saw us staring and snorted her amusement. “It is called a bag of holding. It is sort of like Marchhare’s caravan. It is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Here it it is!”
Stopping her rummaging, she pulled out a sort of headstall thing of richly tooled and dyed leather with rings and buckles that looked to be gold. She strapped it on.
“This is a Freedom of the Rom. They grant them only to beings that they have fully accepted as one of their own.”
“Why is call a Freedom?” Dashie wondered.
Wind lifted her chin with pride. “The original cast off slaves that were the first Rom wore a headstall with a bit and lead ring. They had them all their lives and were not comfortable without something on their heads. They re made them into the Freedom by taking away anything by which they could be made to serve another. No bit or lead ring has ruled any Rom from that day to this.” Very carefully, Wind removed her Freedom and put it away.
KD had curled into an amazingly hard to see coil of dragon to sleep until dawn. The rest of us were spreading blankets to sleep under the stars.
A wagon full of road repair tools and an accompanying work gang of ponies pulled into the rest area. A couple of them strode arrogantly to our camp and demanded, “We are hungry! What ever food you got, hoof it over now! You don’t, we gonna take sledgehammers to that there tin thingy!”
I gently prodded the almost sleeping dragon in our midst. KD had been paying attention! Her head rose up, eyes alight. A curl of flame showing at each nostril and outlining her barely opened jaws completed the picture!
She serenely asked, “What? More dinner? I’m not sure that I could hold another whole pony. Mind if we just sort of pack along the leftovers for lunch?”
Dashie had lifted a fully draconic head. In the late evening’s light we could not make out her color but we could easily make out the totally paling ponies!
“What! They got TWO DRAGONS!”
Dashie corrected, “No. Two HUNGRY dragons!”
Dashie was giggling at the frantic retreat of the two jerks! Got to admit to some chuckles of my own. KD’s sides were heaving as she re coiled herself.
Dashie got up onto all fours. In the dying firelight, she could be seen to be a light blue color. She flexed her wings a couple of times and strolled over to where the road crew ponies were carelessly re packing to leave. In terror but not so terrified that they were willing to have to pay for abandoned gear!
One thoughtlessly yelled, “Road camp privacy! Stay away, that is kingdom law!”
Wind, who was almost unnoticed at Dashie’s right front leg, calmly pointed out, “You have just admitted that you knew that you were breaking kingdom law when you tried to hijack our dinner. In your haste to correct your error, you dropped your sledgehammers. Here!”
Wind revealed a hidden strength by casually giving the heavy hammers an underhand toss. Both hammers overshot the wagon and hit the turf on the other side of it.
That got the attention of the road crew ponies! One noticed, “How come you only got one arm?”
Smiling angelically, which showed off her fangs nicely, Wind reached up with her metal left arm and scritched at the base of Dashie’s left dragon horn as she replied, “What, this?” Campfire light glinting from her metal arm, she said casually, “Kitten here, and I got to roughhousing last week! She was a little too enthusiastic, that’s all.”
Dashie, catching on to the game, bent her head around and gave Wind a lick at the shoulder and said contritely, “I said that I was sorry! We just need to find a Phoenix potion so that you can regrow it. Again.”
They strolled back to our camp, Wind taking the time to re hang her cloak to sort of hide her metal arm. Thomas, Dashie, now turned back to a pegasus, and I nibbled up Wind’s excellent fruit and vegetable skewers.
Wind toasted the last of the bunnies and trout over KD’s flame and shared that extra bit dinner with her. Dashie “sneaked” over and turned back to a dragon to beg a few bites. Grinning, they let her have some.
Sleeping out in the open, I did not have my usual nightmares of a Celestian Church mob burning my home, studies, and, failing to trap me in the house, attempting to stone me to death. Perhaps my feelings of safety came of sleeping beside a big blue dragon? One that liked me? Very likely.
It could not last. For one thing, dawn comes far too soon for a cave dwelling goat like me. The other was a light blue bundle of enthusiasm with rainbow mane and tail! Dashie was bounding into camp! She was waiving a forked stick with three big fat trout on it! It was laced through their gills and out their mouths, with the forked branch acting as a stop to keep them from sliding off.
“I did it, Wind! I tickle trout just like you show me how!”
Wind looked up from laying the morning cook fire. Her grin showed her usually hidden fangs as she replied, “Just like I showed you? Not sure how to point this out diplomatically but you don’t have any fingers to do it with.”
Totally disingenuous, Dashie replied, “I just use my magic like you show with hand. It not hard. Real trick was find where fish hide. You show me that. They too quick to catch if just grab. Gentle tickle is trick.”
Both KD and I were listening with rapt attention. It was clear that Thomas and Dashie’s Equestria was very different from this one. As they talked, that became more and more apparent.
“Does your magic come from being a weredragon?”
“Only a little. Most I learn from Dad. He one of two most powerful beings in our Equestria. Be honest, I think De Writer worst. Super strong magic and wicked sense of humor. And bored. He three thousand years old. Raise Princesses.”
“I see. Do other pegassi use magic where you come from?”
“Not really. Dad figure out that there more magic in world than Earth, Pegassi, and Unicorn. It come from his mom, Aurora, the Demon Queen.”
We all looked askance at the innocent appearing brown pegasus. This was getting more and more interesting all the time.
Wind just nodded, took the fish and efficiently set about preparing them. She also pulled some fresh looking apples and peaches out of the bag at her waist. She expertly split them into proper chunks and dropped them into a pot. She added a little fresh water and, reaching into her bag of holding, pulled out a box with many drawers and bottles, a jar with a sealed top and a small flour bag.
I was sort of amazed, watching the sheer skill with which Wind organized breakfast. She even had water on heating in a biggish pot. She added some from the sealed bottle. The camp filled with the heavenly aroma of Rom black tea!
Satisfied with the progress of the fruits in the pot, she added sugar, cinnamon from one of the drawers of the box and stirred in the flour to thicken it.
It smelled heavenly, not like regular flour at all. Wind closed the bag and returned box, bag and jar to her bag of holding. She saw my calculating look as I watched it all happening.
Wrinkling her nose in amusement, she explained, “Ka'chek flour. A Rom without it? Unheard of!”
Breakfast lived up to the lovely scents, and then some.
Wind, KD and Dashie went to the other side of the T82 to fix and eat the trout. Coming back, Dashie and KD were finishing up gem topped Gator Chows and Wind was nibbling at one with the topping removed.
While they were eating, the rest of us cleaned up all the cookware and put out the fire. We especially cleaned out the fruit stew pot! Nearly came to blows over who got to lick it out! Good sense prevailed and we took turns licking parts of it. Then, we washed it. We did have one thing unwashed.
We saved Wind the last mug of Rom black tea. Smiling at our courtesy, Wind drained it and saw to proper washing of the mug. She then caused us all a small croggle of the mind by causally putting all of the clean cookware and dishes into her bag of holding!
We all piled onto the remote controlled T82 and Dashie got us on the road again!
I noticed that Wind was wearing her Freedom and had put on a harness. It was as richly tooled and dyed as her freedom. They were clearly a matched set.
While KD was busy with her art, making fast sketches of the lands that we were passing through, I made bold to ask, “Why the Rom outfit? This is not exactly a caravan.”
Wind giggled at some joke that I did not understand as she replied, “Actually, it is. You just have to understand what caravan means. It is a loan word from the desert Kingdoms that was already in use by the time that the first Rom came here. In their language of Gyptian, it means something slightly different from how it is used in Equestrian.
“It is just that there is a road section toll gate coming up in a little. Me being dressed this way should get us through the gate for free.”
Nodding acceptance for her reason, I turned my attention to Thomas, who was trying hard to act like an adult pegasus, rather than a colt having the time of his life.
I guessed, “You have not ridden on Dashie’s T82 before, have you Thomas?”
With a twinkle in his eye, he admitted, “Never before this. I think that she get to play with it more but need daddy supervision!”
I was chuckling at that when we all felt the iron monster slowing down. Wind, pointing ahead, made clear exactly why. There was the toll booth with its light weight red and white bar across the road. There was a substantial cabin in back of it for use of the toll collectors when off duty and out here, kilometers from any town. A sign said, WELCOME TO THE MANEHATTEN ROYAL ROAD SECTION.
Wind hopped off the top of the huge left tread guard of the T82 and greeted the toll takers, “Hi! What do you think of my new act? Just doing a shake down run to IRON out any problems! We are promised entertainment for the big art show.”
The utterly bemused light yellow toll collector turned to his lavender buddy and shook his head. Pushing the toll manual shut he said, “Rom. No accounting for 'em. Just write Rom, toll free by Crowns Law.”
He tripped the mechanism and the toll gate rose up out of our way.
As the mechanical behemoth passed through the gate, Wind trotted after and swung up the steel boarding stair and resumed her place on top of the turret, next to Dashie.
We had passed two of the Waysides when Wind guided Dashie into one that seemed empty. It was nowhere near noon, yet.
“Thanks, Dashie! There is a friend here that I want to talk to. It would have been rude to just go by and not say Hi.”
With that, she bounced off the turret, grabbed what we had learned was called the Main Gun, and swung, letting go and landing lightly. She sprinted over to the edge of the woods.
Sitting suddenly, she quietly reached out and laid a sparkling pebble among many others in that spot. She said, “Hannara Na Kili.” We could not make out the rest. It was all in Gyptian. It contained pauses as if she was listening to what another was saying. The conversation was soon over.
Wind got up, smiling serenely, and returned to us. Dashie had turned to a dragon so that she and KD could share a couple of KD’s gator chows.
Wind suggested, “We could get going, now. The Loved Dead are always with us. Hannara and I had a nice chat.”
It was slowly percolating through the brain that I don’t really have, just how different Rom are. And I have known them, shared food with them and talked with them for years. They have even been guests in my cave. I have heard that expression, the Loved Dead are always with us hundreds of times. I have heard about Laying the Stones goodness only knows how many times. This was the first time that I had seen it.
Seeing how Wind treated it, both casually and with absolute assurance, as if the horse in that grave that the Rom call a Gateway to the Lake of Paradise, or Lake for short, was really there, made it hit me like a gut punch.
I knew, like everybeing in Equestria that the ONE THING THAT YOU DO NOT DO is desecrate any Wayside burial. Ponies who die more than two days travel from their homes are entitled to a Wayside burial. It is a Royal Benefice. The graves are marked and tended as part of Wayside maintenance.
All Rom who die get a Wayside burial, that they call a Lake or going to the Lake. They lay small, inexpensive, but pretty pebbles on them to mark them.
Desecration of a Rom Lake will bring the Princesses in person to investigate. The criminals WILL get caught. Penalties are HARSH. They range from twenty years at hard labor on the Royal Roads up to life. The worst offenders, who have actually exhumed Rom remains get a punishment worse than simple death.
They get life in the Twins Mine, digging mercury ore. The fumes destroy the mind and wrack the body. After the first few such grave robberies, centuries ago, no pony in their right mind will risk that.
Wind looked so quietly happy that I had to wonder whether there was any truth to the Rom belief in the Lake of Paradise.
Dashie finished her snack and changed back to a pegasus. We all piled back onto the T82 educational toy and hit the road again. It was not long before we came to a bridge across a stream.
It was a nice, well built and solid bridge. It was clear that it was not made to take the sheer mass of the T82.
Dashie, following Wind’s suggestions and pointing, reversed the T82 for about fifty or sixty meters. There, she eased off the road and headed toward the stream. She stopped short, while Wind scouted ahead, dropping down the stream bank and checking the bottom to be sure that it would hold up the tank.
Returning, she suggested to the others, “I think that you should get off and use the bridge on foot. This will be a wild ride!”
KD pointed to the line of ten to fifteen centimeter diameter trees that lined both sides of the stream skeptically. “Um, not to cast doubt or anything, but how do you plan to get this thing past those?”
Wind replied quietly, “I have seen machines like this, doing what they were designed to do. I don’t think that it will be a difficult problem.”
KD and Thomas both looked into Wind’s eyes and saw reflected experiences that they did not want to share. Neither did I. Thomas just said, “T82 break trees in orchard before this. I take Wind’s advice.”
Nodding, KD followed him, saying, “Let me get to the center of the bridge and get my sketchbook out! I don’t want to miss this!”
Figuring that the center of the bridge would have the best view of the proceedings. I joined them.
That was when I noticed something completely uncanny. As big and heavy as the T82 was, there was no sign of its driving across the grass and brush to get to the stream. Looking back, I saw that the road was in perfect condition, too.
I pointed it out to the one here who might know something about it. Thomas snickered happily, “Yes, know already. You not say anything to Dashie but she very good with magic of rock and stone. Also with magic of plants. She fix what educational toy do as it happen most time.”
Just then, it started. The T82 let out a loud roar and charged the treeline! There was a splintering set of crashing sounds as it struck the innocent vegetation! The trees did not stand a chance! They swayed, cracked and buckled, falling down into the stream as the “toy” crunched over them, tipping down steeply as it plunged into the stream! With a huge splash, followed by the churning up of rock, gravels and white water, the machine charged the opposite bank!
As it hit, I began to appreciate the ingenuity of the linked steel belts that the T82 ran on. There was a slope at the front before the treads hit the ground. Now, that slope let the machine claw its way up the bank, tilting back steeply as its momentum and driving tracks forced it up, pushing the trees aside and down while it topped the bank!
Dashie drove her “toy” up to the road’s edge and parked it. She bailed out and took wing to the other side of the stream. Landing in the water, she transformed into her dragon self!
She called, “Dad! KD! Will you help please!?”
She was lifting the fallen trees back into their places, on the stumps that they had broken off from. While she was at it, I could see her magic going into the stems and branches, binding together cracks and breaks.
KD loped down and joined her. “What can I do, Dashie? I don’t know anything about this kind of magic.”
“Just hold trunk up while I fix break and roots.”
Thomas strolled down and waded into the stream. He started repairing cracks and breaks in the wood of the fallen trees to speed things along.
Wind and I sat on the bridge rail and watched them work. She commented, “Ah, hard work! I can sit and watch it for simply hours!”
It really did not take all that long for the party to restore all the trees and larger brush, leaving almost no sign that the massive T82 had charged through there.
KD said it for all of us, as we climbed back aboard the T82, “I never even heard of magic like that before!”
As she was settling into the turret and picking up the remote control, Dashie shrugged. “All world each a little different. Some thing go from world to world, some not. Magic dad teach me, it work.”
Not too much later, we pulled into a Wayside to fix lunch. Some heavy freight dray ponies were already camped there, so Dashie parked us at a site well away from them, to give them camp privacy.
They stomped over to us just as Wind was setting a large pot of water to heat.
“Whatever you gots to eat gotta be better than our road ration oats! Hoof it over! We even got you a bag of oats to make it a fair trade!”
Dashie quelled Wind before she could say anything. She gestured for KD to stay hidden behind the T82. Pretending to quail some, she replied, “We just stop for ordinary tea before go on. Got special box tea need to be deliver.”
Thomas, sounding indignant, demanded, “No! Dashie, that tea special! Got to go to Castle …”
“They meaner than us, Dad! I give them one packet. Only make them a couple of gallon.”
She ducked down into the T82’s interior and returned with a modest package wrapped in gold colored foil.
She made a point of securing the oats before giving them the package. “We going be in much trouble for this. Oats is least you can do.”
As they retreated, I noticed that Thomas had a diabolical grin. Dashie, on the other hoof, simply hopped up on the T82 and tripped something on her control box.
The turret turned and the main gun lowered some. It pointed the big main gun directly at the drover’s camp.
All that Thomas would say was, “It De Writer tea. Never know what happen. Best be safe!”
Wind’s ears perked up! Almost too casually, she asked, “Is that thing loaded?”
Dashie sort of shrank a bit as she replied, “Yes. Have five case ammo. Two explosive, three solid shot. Five round in each case. De Writer give them to me when I get tea. Dad not like me have it.”
“OOPS! No time talk now! They getting water boiling!”
KD sidled up to Wind, “You seem to know a lot about this thing. Just how dangerous is it?”
Wind put an arm over KD’s neck as she replied, “That depends on which kind of round Dashie has in the gun. A solid shot will rip a crater about two or three meters across. The flying dirt and stone from the fire place will make a deadly spray.
“If it is an explosive round, it will blast a hole about five or six meters across. It will scatter fragments of the shell and any loose stone or dirt too.
“Yes, the T82 could wreck any ordinary fortress in Equestria.”
KD was chortling, “I hope that the tea is worth a shot! Not only would I like to see that, I did not like those ponies at all.”
Thomas overheard and replied, “They not get hurt. De Writer not crazy. Have spell on T82 it not hurt any pony or intelligent being. Can do much property damage. That educational part of toy. Dashie get to fix up damage. Study hard her magics since she get it from De Writer!”
The wayside ponies added the tea to the water boiling in their big kettle.
As they did, Thomas asked urgently, “What De Writer say about brew tea?”
Dashie’s brow wrinkled, “He say make in ceramic pot only a little at a time. It good for cold morning!”
Just then the flames began in the drover’s big kettle of boiling water! They burst up in a great gout of blue and yellow fire! We could feel the heat from where we were! The sides of the big iron pot glowed red, then yellow! They began to melt!
In only seconds, the sides gave way and the tea gushed out, drowning the campfire, not that it was much help! The wood instantly went to ash! The tea soaked into the bottom of the fire place and the flames slowly subsided.
The heat had driven the drovers away from camp and wagon. The whole side of the wagon that had been facing the tea was charred. There were small wisps of smoke arising from it here and there.
Thomas was sitting on his rump laughing. “Now know why fix in ceramic pot and only little at a time! Definitely good for cold morning!”
While the drovers were frantically hitching up and hauling out of there, Thomas was thoughtfully heating water in an iron pot. He called up, “Dashie! Packet tea. Small measure. Ceramic pot I know you got in there!”
She popped up out of the hatch and gave Thomas the things that he had asked for. KD, who could breathe fire, quietly backed up.
Dashie saw it and reasured her, “With De Writer tea, follow direction important. We see what NOT do.”
Thomas added boiling water to the small, indeed tiny, measure of tea in the pot. Flame poured out the spout and leaked around the lid. It soon died. Thomas poured a small cup and smelled it.
“Have good nose.” He sipped. Eyes wide, he exclaimed, “This one of De Writer’s best teas yet! Try some, Dashie!”
She promptly poured a cup for herself. “It good dad! Thanks!”
Wind added vegetables to her pot of boiling water and soon the savory scent of vegetable stew filled the camp area.
While it was cooking, she took Dashie and they entered the woods. It was not long before they returned with a couple of squirrels and a few bunnies. This time, it was Dashie, turned dragon, who toasted the carnivore lunch.
After everything was cleaned up and put away, Dashie strolled over to the camp that the drovers had used. While we watched, she actually pushed a few heat broken stones of the fireplace back to position. Somehow, they stuck. What really got me though was her casually picking up the hardened iron from the melted pot and the original fire grilles and sort of pushed, pulled and squeezed on them to make a good, substantial grill for supporting cook pots. It went into its place. She carefully scouted the camp, leaving bright green grass where it had been fire browned.
A grinning KD got several quick sketches!
Wind reminded us all, “The Manehatten fairgrounds turn off is only about another hour down the road. Shall we be gone?”
It did not actually take us an hour to get there. We all disembarked from the T82 and did stretches.
Among the assorted goodbyes, I heard Wind ask KD, “I am not on a schedule. Mind if I tag along to see your art show?”
I personally, after wishing Thomas and Dashie well, inquired, “Would it be possible for me to get some of that De Writer tea?”
He practically pounced on me! “How much you want? He send a crate of it! Got lots!”
“I could use several packages. Say, five?”
“Dashie! Get Grumpy five packets De Writer tea!”
Her voice muffled by being inside her machine, she retorted, “FIVE? What he want to do? Melt T82?”
As I took the packages of potentially deadly tea, Thomas pointed out, “You know Grumpy do magic. Pony here seem mostly think only unicorn do magic. Grumpy use much ritual and misdirection to keep them from catch on. I bet tea become part of that.”
My already high respect for Thomas went up another big notch. I nodded, “Right, Thomas. Also, once the fire burns off, it makes a really good tea. Right up there with Rom black.”
Wind told the group, “Well, I promised to send you back from here. Is it time to go?”
Though Dashie looked a little downcast, Thomas nodded, “It been fun here, but yes. It time to go home.”
Wind reached into her bag of holding and fished out a thing that looked like a map. She traced out what looked like a route on it with a delicate touch of one claw.
The pale blue oval of a portal big enough to drive a T82 main battle tank through appeared. Thomas climbed the passenger steps, up onto the back of the iron monster and our friends drove through. The portal silently vanished.
I turned to KD. “Which way to the Art Show?”
She nibbled a gator chow treat and pointed. “My studio first! Then off to the show!”
KD snickered, “You two are little! Hop on my back and we will make better time!”
As Wind boosted me up and then leaped up herself, she said, “I could get used to this. Traveling places without having to walk, I mean. First, the T82! That was fun! Now I get to ride dragonback again!”
I looked back, trying not to miss the sight of Manehatten’s famously tall buildings. Many of them were over five levels tall! Some, in the downtown area looked to be way taller!
I commented, “Again? You have ridden dragons before?”
“Just one, Grumpy. My daughter Aurixa.”
That gave me real pause. I ventured, “Adopted?”
Sort of. I found her egg out in the wilderness not that far from Mama Dragon’s cottage. I was there when Aurixa hatched. She imprinted on me as her mother.
“When she grew up some, we used to play together a lot, including riding her. I love flying on dragonback!
“Anyway, she grew up to where she was too big for that. Last I saw her, Aurixa was bigger than a house. I need to go home to Mama Dragon’s and visit her. I miss them.”
We came to a nice two level house in the outskirts of town. The only odd thing about it from the outside was that the door was bigger than usual. KD got out a key and let us in.
The inside WAS unusual! The whole second level floor had been knocked out, leaving a sort of rim around the single large room. It was just the right height to serve as shelves for KD! There were a few scorch marks on the walls, souvenirs of her hiccups!
There were paintings and drawings in profusion! All was neatly organized. Drawings were in X-frames and paintings were racked or stood against the walls.
KD selected a number of drawings, including some from her sketchbooks filled up on the trip here. Truly professional, she framed the drawings and sketches behind glass. She had frames at the ready for her paintings. It took her about an hour and a half for her to be ready.
She put on a harness designed to carry framed work and suggested, “Load me up! The Manehatten Art Show is only about a kilometer from here!
We trudged through some pretty fancy streets and up a hill to a small estate. I giggled when I saw the iron scroll work lettering over the gate.
Wind nudged me and whispered, “Pretty up front about it, aren’t they, Grumpy?”
The letters said, “Snob Hill Estate.” Under it was a banner proclaiming, “Snob Hill Art Festival! Opening soon!”
The pony watching the gate seemed both pleased and surprised to see KD. “Krystal! I was told that you would not be able to make this show! Let me announce you to the committee!”
She held him gently back. “Please don’t, Edward. I am most curious as to who is saying that I would not come to this show.”
He sort of scraped the pave with a forehoof and looked down as he said, “I am not supposed to gossip about our patrons.”
KD grinned as she flipped him a silver bit. “You said nothing!”
Expertly fielding the coin, he said, “Of course it could not possibly be Drawin Pitcher spreading rumors about you.”
KD grinned, with many teeth, as she replied, “Of course not. Why would a fine artist like Drawin say anything negative about me?
“Oh, Edward, these fine beings are guests of mine.”
We went on in, following KD. She went straight for the main entrance to Snob Hall.
Even before we entered, we heard, “You know, I am really sorry to say that KD not only won’t be making this show, it looks like she will have to give up the Daring Do contract.”
As she was about to charge in and confront the speaker, I gave her leg a tug. “Not quite yet, KD. Now, it is contract time. I suspect that this one can be really simple and oral, witnessed by Wind, here.”
I don’t think that I have ever seen as many teeth as showed in KD’s grin. “What sort of contract do you have in mind, Grumpy? I don’t have a hundred gold on me.”
I pointed inside, “I overheard that. I will take one golden bit, ownership of that painting of Wind by the T82, and an autographed copy of the new book when it comes out. Thanks to the one bit, the magic will work.
“You can still enter the painting in the show as an original, on loan from the owner.
My refund terms will be one gold, one silver plus return to your ownership of the other items.
“What will happen is that not only the one who sabotaged you, but any accomplices will reveal their parts in such a way that they will receive the maximum of embarrassment. Attempts to extricate themselves will only dig them deeper.”
KD nodded slowly. “That sound pretty good. Can we include some career help for her, IF AND ONLY IF, she stays on the straight and narrow?”
I nodded, sucking in the cheeks that I don’t really have. “I will include that. But only if it will still embarrass her.”
KD’s tail wagged in delight, threatening several ornamental plantings! “Done! Here is the bit!.”
There was a brief flash of yellow in the sunlight. I put it in my saddlebag. “Wind, did you witness the contract and it’s terms?”
If Wind’s feral grin was not answer enough, her, “I did. You have a contract,” was.
KD breezed in through the big ornate doors. Cheerfully she called out, “Sorry to be late but I see that I am still in time for entering my latest works!”
The yellow mare with the green mane and tail that exclaimed, “It’s KD! We have to get her out of here!” had to be Drawin Pitcher!
That was confirmed in mere seconds. KD said amiably, “I don’t know what you are on about, Drawin! Oh, I see that you have some neat things up already! Let me get a closer look!”
As the blue dragon approached the hanging works, she absently pulled one of her crushed gem topped snacks from the bag. She was holding it so that all that could be seen was the topping. She started to munch it down as she got up close to the drawings and paintings of her rival.
Drawin Pitcher frantically charged KD and pushed her head aside, away from her art. “Please! Don’t incinerate my art!”
KD turned her snout to aim directly at Drawin and asked in a mild voice, “Whatever to you mean, Pitcher? Why would I incinerate anypony’s art?”
Drawin dodged behind a portly pony who was watching the scene unfold with interest. His cutie mark was a stack of books. He turned to her and, greatly puzzled, asked, “Why are you afraid of KD, Drawin? She has participated in many shows around the kingdom and never any incident like you seem to fear.
“True, last show she got a minor case of hiccups but controlled them and caused no harm at all. Why are you afraid now?”
There was a mumbled reply.
“What? That made no sense at all! What do you mean, it’s the muffins?”
KD offered, “You were in industrial chemistry before you became a publisher, right, Mister Hazard?”
“I was.”
“Read this. It will explain most of the problem with the dragon muffins from this bag.” She fished in one of her bags and gave him a folded paper. “It is the Ponyville Police Department’s Forensic Chemistry Laboratory report on the dragon muffins from this bag.”
His eyebrows rose sharply at what he read. “Zinc metal? That much in each muffin? No wonder you were having fire blast hiccups! Obviously, that little bag can’t have held many of them. Why is she afraid of you now?”
For an answer, KD took a treat out of the bag and gave the bag to Mister Hazard. As she munched the treat, she pointed out, “I just emptied the bag. Notice how it has another treat in it now?” She pointed to a large painting on one wall, “Is that a Clyden Dale?” As he looked, she held up the bag. It had returned.
“See, Mister Hazard, the bag is enchanted by a form of non Equine magic. It always has another treat and it always comes back to me. That is why Drawin is afraid of me. She expects me to erupt in flame at any moment. It won’t happen though.”
A despairing Drawin Pitcher hung her head. “It has to. Once the bag is set, you can’t change it.”
KD grinned. “Want to bet, Ms. Pitcher? Thanks to Grumpy, here, we not only sorted out your little scheme to end my art career, we met a Zebra (not Zecora, Ponyville has TWO zebras now) who was familiar with the spell. He showed us how to re set it. These treats are harmless. Really tasty, too.”
Mister Hazard suggested, “Now that is taken care of, let’s get your things entered and hung. We were saving you a panel for your work. Thanks to Ms. Pitcher, we almost put your panel away. That is it, over there.”
KD smiled properly for a collection of important ponies and began setting her selections out along the bottom of the display panel. As an aside to us, she commented, “The Show’s Committee will have the final call about what is hung and what is not.”
She looked about and zeroed in on Drawin Pitcher. “Drawin, if you will do it, I have a little actual paying work for you!”
The yellow mare looked up from where she was about to fill out some papers at the art show’s main desk. “What can you possibly want from me, KD? After everypony finding out about my trick, I was going to withdraw from the show.”
KD agreed, “It was a pretty dirty trick, Drawin. Only the ponies here right now know about it, though. That does not change the fact that your work is first rate. Stay in the show. We can cover this up really easily. My pieces will need labels. As far as I know, you are the best calligrapher in Manehatten.
“Any pony claiming bad blood between us will have to explain how YOUR distinctive calligraphy is on my labels.”
“Why are you trying to help me, after what I did?”
KD sat and scratched at her jaw spines with her big left hind claws before answering, “Critical thinking, Drawin. There are two parts to you. One is more than a bit mean and underhoofed. The other makes works like the ones over there on the wall. That last part is too valuable to lose. The first part should be lost, if you can.
“I am trying to save that valuable second part.”
Sourly the green maned yellow mare said, “I see. Actually, thanks. I need sales from this show or money from somewhere else or I could lose my studio.”
Laying a big claw gently over the withers of Drawin, KD said, “I do understand. Before I got established, I was there more than once. Here is my list of titles. What will you charge me?”
“After this? I may need money but I don’t need it that badly. I will get right on these.”
“Fair enough, Drawin. When you finish these up, go talk to Mister Hazard. He has a commission, no committees or the like. I had to let it go, due to time constraints. It might be just right for you.”
Watching in fascination, wondering where the embarrassment would come from, I felt a really sort of creepy sensation. I was not sure, but it seemed to involve the two strange ponies standing outside the door.
I saw Drawn Pitcher hard at work, her pen producing truly excellent calligraphic labels for KD’s art.
I hated to interrupt, but there could be a life or more in the balance. I really did not care one way or the other about the yellow mare’s life, but KD DID. That tipped the scales, as it were.
I strolled over to her. “May I interrupt you briefly, Ms. Pitcher?”
She looked up with a glare, paused and made an obvious effort to compose herself. “Um, you are the goat that KD brought here, aren’t you?”
“Correct. My card.”
I proffered my business card. It was embossed stock with raised lettering in black and gold gilt. It said:
GRUMPETER “GRUMPY” GOAT
Licensed Practitioner of Non Equine Magic
All work by publicly registered contracts.
Refund of 110% if contract terms are not met.
A ROYALLY CHARTERED BUSINESS
“Impressive. How can a goat even have a Royally Chartered business?”
I sort of sucked in my nonexistent cheeks a little and retorted, “By being VERY good at what I do. I wanted to ask you about how you got that bag. I know that it was not made on this world. Either you summoned it, or you summoned a being that brought you the bag.
“Since you knew how to load it and trick KD into taking it, my money is on the second choice.”
She sort of hung her head and absently scraped at the floor with a hind hoof as she replied, “You are right. I did summon something. It was like a cloud of ugly dark smoke with eyes floating in it. I told it what I wanted to do. I mean make KD so that she would lose the contract, but not be actually hurt.
“It brought me the bag and told me how to set it.”
I nodded as parts started falling into place. “I see. Two more questions. Which book did you use and did your summoning go right on the first try?”
“Umm, I was afraid to try the Necronomipony. It has such a dangerous reputation. I used the Black Pullet as printed by Non Equine University Press.
“And no. I had to try twice for the summons to work. Is that important?”
Urgently, I asked, “Did you clean everything up after the failed try, or did you re use the same pentacles?”
“I re used them. Getting everything right was a LOT of work.”
I chuckled. “I do know about that! Non Equine magic is way harder than just waiving a wand around!
“Thing is, I believe that your first summoning may have worked. That is why I was checking on what you did.”
“What! Nothing happened. That is why I tried a second time.”
“I do understand, Drawin. I was just clearing something up. I will let you get back to your lettering. Beautiful work, by the way.”
Now sure of what happened, I sauntered over to the door. I gave the ponies waiting there my best, fang filled grin. “I see that you noticed that until the show opens tomorrow, that this is a private residence. Vamponies here in Equestria need to be invited into homes. The succubus should be able to enter without a problem. That means that she is tied to you, ma'am.”
I covered up my glamored in fangs as I bowed to them. “My name is Grumpeter Goat. Grumpy for short. As you have likely already noticed, I am dead. Not a zombie or anything like that, but totally deceased. Let us retire over to that bench under the shade tree in the garden while we talk. If that talk goes well, I will invite you in myself.”
The vampony nodded. “That makes sense, sort of. My name is Jinni and this is Sassy to her friends. Not sure what sort of power real names have here, but for now, I am not taking the chance. Getting out of the sun is a good idea.”
As we seated ourselves comfortably out in the garden, Sassy ventured, “What do you want to talk about? I don’t think that we have done anything wrong.”
I raised a hoof in agreement. “Not yet, you haven’t. You have already noticed that this world runs on slightly different rules than where you came from. I saw you try to enter through that open door. I am sure that nopony saw it. That is a rule that is different from your home. You can freely enter any public space, the door of a store, for instance. Private homes, not without an invitation.
“Daylight leaves you no stronger than an ordinary pony. Night will let you be about twenty times that strong. It will increase your ability to control your prey as well.
Jinni nodded slowly, “We have noticed some of that. Why are you trying to help us?”
I curled a lip and my eyes slitted. “I don’t like most ponies very much, at all.
“Now, you need to understand some basic rules. This world is well aware of vamponies. They have tried and true methods of hunting down and destroying supernatural beings. So, the best way to manage, is to not draw attention to yourselves by leaving a trail of dead, dying and wounded ponies behind. Use your talents at prey control to take only small amounts at any one time.
“Let them think that they had a pleasant interlude with you, except for Sassy, there. They will feel like they had a fun INTERLEWD with her.”
They both had the courtesy to wince at my pun.
Jinni offered, “We came here because we sort of felt drawn to this place. We aren’t sure why. Do you know that, Grumpy?”
“As a matter of fact, Jinni, I do. You were summoned here by a spell strong enough to warp you both into ponies. I don’t know what you looked like before and don’t care. Your natures have been preserved. There is a connection between summoner and summoned and that is what brought you here. The pony that summoned you is inside that place. She was trying to cut a rival out of a lucrative book illustration contract. She has failed.”
Sassy paused to think carefully. “What should we do and why would you let us into that house?”
I grinned again. Gave them a great show of phony fangs. “As I pointed out, the path of safety lies in moderation. If you agree to it, I can let you in to play fanpony to our guilty party. You know, autographs and the whole nine yards. Her name is Drawin Pitcher. She is yellow with a green mane and tail. Because she summoned you, SHE can’t keep you out of HER home or any private space of hers.
“She can do one thing for you that will make the rest worthwhile, unless you REALLY LIKE being ponies with unusual diets. She has the spell book and knows the spell that will send you back where you came from.”
Both responded at once, “WE DON’T!” Jinni added with a smile that showed her fangs, “It IS fun for a nice visit. Say, a week or two. Shall we go in?”
"I shall precede you, ladies, and introduce you to the nice young mare who invited you to this world.” Reaching the door, I stepped in and bowed, “Jinni and Sassy, would you please come in? The artist that you are looking for is over at that desk.”
Jinni’s eyes were glued to KD. “That is a dragon!”
“No kidding. That is KD, the artist who Drawin was trying to muscle out of the contract.”
That got them both to focus. They squealed fairly quietly as they descended on Drawin Pitcher! “It’s really her! Oh, Ms. Pitcher! It is so great to actually meet you!”
At first, she tried futilely to fend off the duo. I noticed that her really good calligraphy was now labeling all of KD’s works, hanging on both sides of her panel. I realized that the two were interfering with Drawin Pitcher’s signing something for Mr. Hazard of Haphazard House Publishing.
We found out what it was very quickly. Jinni squealed in delight, “Your first book of art! They will be the luckiest foals in the kingdom that get to color your drawings! Can I get a copy with your autograph on it?”
Drawin Pitcher looked like she was ready to sink through the floor with her face aflame.
I cheerfully leaned up against KD and questioned, “What do you think of Drawin’s cheering section. They will be fanponying her for the next few weeks!”
KD watched with amusement. She offered, “You really did not get much for all of your trouble, Grumpy. If you wanted to, you could make a killing off the painting of Wind by the T82. Not only do the critics think that it is a great piece of fantasy realism, Wind has agreed to stay for the show and pose by the painting so ponies can see her genuine metal arm and sword. The show has not opened yet and there have been three bids. The last one was for over a thousand gold bits.”
I agreed, “Monetarily, this contract was a bust. At least I did not have to give out a refund. I am going to keep the picture. It is a better treasure to me than gold.”
KD chuckled, “Are you feeling all right? I thought that I just heard you say that something was worth more than gold!
“Drawin will be both taken care of by that contract and embarrassed to death. It is an open ended one to draw foal’s coloring books. The money is really pretty good but even with her good work doing well at shows, she will always be remembered as the mare that draws those foal’s books.
“Our contract is fulfilled, Grumpy. You will get the autographed Daring Do book when it is ready for distribution but before it hits the stores.”
