I like to pony watch.

I like to imagine what their stories are as they criss-cross in front of me in this city of Neighbriais, merchant capital city of Saddle Arabia.

I suppose, though, that I do have an advantage beyond just “imagining” what their lives must be like because I have a secret, uncanny advantage to empathically absorb the memories of others or objects that I touch, or even rooms I trot in. Memories are everywhere . . . imprinted on every person, place, or object somehow. The irony to that is that I lack my own memories beyond a few moons ago. Did I attain this ability when I lost my original memories as if to fill in the gap?

Huh. I wonder if it was around the same time I lost my horn. Lucky for me that I also happen to wear a magic inhibitor ring on the stump of my broken horn or otherwise I'd be leaking magic like crazy. Perhaps to the point of my eventual death.

That's funny. An item I am wearing, which most others would consider a curse, or at least a hinderance, is saving my life. Strangely enough the memories of that object doesn't have much either. At first I thought it was like an object equivalent of “amnesia” as well, but I gradually started to realize that the ring itself is relatively new. In its new shape and function, it doesn't have much of a history of its own. Accordingly, that makes me easier to identify with it.

Already it feels like a natural extension of myself.

If I had my memories, maybe I'd lament the loss of my cartilage appendage. I can't even be certain how long I've lived with this disability. It doesn't look like it, but maybe I was born this way for all I know.

I doubt it, though, because I do feel this phantom sensation as if I should be able to use it. Like out of sheer reflexive habit I try to levitate some object, feel this block on my magic at the base of the horn, then realize that: Oh yeah! The magic inhibitor ring would prevent that. The fact that the horn is damaged doesn't help my cause either.

Other than that, I suppose I don't miss it. It's not as if I can be nostalgic for something I cannot recall. At worst, it causes me to lament lost opportunities. After all, there are plenty of times where even the most basic of unicorn magic, levitation, would have come in hoofy. As a thief of the streets, it would have considerably extended my reach.

Maybe my ability to empathically absorb the memories of others is simply a new way for my body to channel and circumvent its loss. Because of that, there is one thing I can do that could almost be viewed as a superpower. For example, if I hold a smith's hammer that was once wielded by a very skilled pony, I can unconsciously use that same hammer with the same level of skill as the previous owner. Sometimes I get flashes of memories that come along with wielding such a thing.

That may be why I don't lament my loss because I feel like the whole world has opened up to me. For some reason I feel this uncanny sense of freedom too. Was I a prisoner or slave of some sort before?

At that thought, I look down at my own shadow with a frown. A shadow which is very pronounced on this very bright, shiny, and hot day. I feel suddenly despondent because I'm thinking of one of my new friends. A young pegasus foal named Red Star who looks up to me because I rescued and liberated him from his previous abusive master. A master who mangled his right wing on purpose to prevent his “property” from easily escaping.

As a thief, I'm already accustomed to being on the wrong side of the law except, in this case, it was actually the slave owner who was the illegal one. Slavery is supposed to have been disbanded here in this country a long time ago.

Or at least it should, but ever since the death of the last Sultan, the beloved Nanpour Alabaster, it felt like the soul of this city was slowly being corrupted ever since. The city guards, for example, don't seem to put nearly as much effort defending us from this heinous practice. Secretly, they might even be in on it.

I narrow my eyes while thinking that if that's true, I should touch one of them someday, absorb their memories, and see if my theory holds any weight to it.

But, if I do that, to whom should I bring this information to? This change in law structure seems to have occurred ever since Grand Vizier Dispatcher Hoofclaven took over this city.

For a brief moment I consider today's unique opportunity to report this information to an important visiting dignitary who is coming soon to this city, Princess Celestia of Equestria, but then several problems soon occur to me with that plan.

First of all, the gang I'm with is planning to rob her shortly after she arrives. While that does grant me a near opportunity to see her, it wouldn't be under the best of circumstances.

Second of all, I'm not armed with the memories of the guards' illegal activities yet. All I have is a suspicion that they are paid to look the other way and perhaps even partaking of the heinous activity itself. I also can’t ignore the fact that this change in attitude coincides with the Viziers' rise to power.

At best all I have is circumstantial evidence, and I can't give the memories I acquire either. Probably the only way I can prove that I have this ability to the visiting Princess is to use it on her then give her the information I acquired as proof that I have the ability, but that doesn't prove that I'm honest.

Thirdly, even if I were to successfully convince the Princess of foul play in this city, what can she do about it? Refuse to raise either the sun or moon in this area? Sure, she could do that, but the whole world would be affected. Beyond that, this isn't her country. She has no official authority here. At best, she's merely regarded as a very important guest.

I have to admit, though, I don't really know what kind of resources she has access to. It could be considerably more or less than I'm figuring. It's always possible she might find a way to help us somehow, but right now it feels like a pipe dream when all I have is theories so far.

I sigh as I gaze forward at the crowd in front of me. While I do, I contemplate this curious sense of duty I feel clinging to my soul. I don't know why I wish to help all these ponies beyond any personal sense of loss. Slavery might be the reason for my loss and it certainly is Red Star's, but beyond that . . . I feel this curious sense of responsibility for every pony here. Even the visitors to this city and there certainly is a lot of that within a merchant capital city.

For now, I guess I just need to bide my time. There are a lot of mysteries I need to solve both inwardly and outwardly. Until then, I guess I just need to make the best of things.

Speaking of which, according to the angle of the shadows I see, I need to get into position for my end of the heist with the visiting Princess.

As I watch from a window of a fifth story building the procession of Princess Celestia's troops march through the busy streets with a parade cutting through a celebrating crowd, I wonder to myself why this parade isn't evoking such a strong reaction out of me. I fully understand how it could. What's happening before me is far from the usual activity that happens in this land and I well understand why a break in the tedium from everyday life is welcome on occasion. This certainly fits the bill, but for me personally, it bores me for some reason.

Well . . . I suppose that isn't completely true. I'm assigned to this position for a reason. I'm to survey everything about Princess Celestia's servants, guards, the Princess herself, and all of their gear, especially their valuable ones. Because of all of that, I take note how the Princess's royal pegasus guards are actually marching on the ground along with the rest of their troups. If I were in the Princess's place, I would have had them survey the situation from the sky to keep a wider eye on things. I do see some pegasus guards in the air doing precisely that, but they were assigned by the Vizier himself to safeguard his royal guest.

Later on I finally view the Princess herself. Her hide is just as white as mine, but unlike my messy mustard yellow hair, her mane and tail is very striking and legendary in appearance, for not only does it glow, not only does it ever flow like it is within a slow-moving flowing river, but it is a rainbow mane with small hints of Celestial sparkles in it. She cuts an imposing figure in terms of her size, yet she has a gentle royal motherly look. She gazes around her large, open-top carriage while smiling and waving at the crowd around her.

Everything I see about her matches her description I've ever heard about her. She's probably one of the most recognized alicorns on the planet and that for many reasons. She's often described in many pros, kind of seen on stage plays by other actors pretending to be her, seen in posters and more. Strictly speaking in terms of appearance, she's every bit as I heard and imagined her.

What strikes me at this moment, though, is how familiar she is to me personally. This is the first time I ever recall seeing her but, for some reason, it doesn't feel like it. When I reflexively demand my brain to come up with a reason why she's so familiar to me, my poor amnesiac brain is forced to simply shrug in defeat and basically insist, “I can't explain it, but I know I saw her in person sometime in our mysterious past.”

Where my memory fails me, however, my logic steps up and says, “Well of course we recognize her. Who wouldn't? She is, by far, among the most famous ponies in the world. Despite not being a native to this country, no pony forgets the sole heir of one who can raise and lower the sun and the moon, plus she is a monarch of one of the most powerful countries in the world.

“Make no mistake, though. Just because you recognize her, doesn't mean she'd be able to return the favor. The number of faces she must have seen in her lifetime within a crowd would be akin to grains of sand on a beach.”

Subconsciously I also note all the gear she is riding or wearing and calculate their value. Any good would-be thief would be able to measure their marks and pick out the target's most valuable gear. I swear, though, that part of me also feels like a merchant because I'm wise enough to realize how much each piece of gear she wears would sell for depending upon the seller. How much they can pay and their motivation to do so varies in each case.

All of that processes in the back of my mind, though. In the forefront of my thoughts, I actually feel a sting of pity for her. I don't know why for sure, but I think it's hidden behind a well-practiced royal mask that is smiling benevolently upon the crowd around her. When I sense this, I am forced to wince and question if what I am feeling from her is an extension of a mostly buried memory of her or if this is part of my empathic gifts. If it's the latter then that is strange because I usually have to touch my subjects to sense anything.

As I continue to dwell on that, a thought occurs to me. Maybe the reason I usually have to touch my subjects is because most average ponies' emotions are considerably more subdued compared to her, but her emotions, even the hidden ones, blaze like the sun that her cutie mark is symbolic of. Most others wouldn't sense this, but for the few who are especially sensitive, her emotions come off as a blazing shout rather than a quiet whisper dim enough that I typically require physical contact to sense.

Since I can't be fully certain where this information is coming from I don't fully trust it. However, for the moment, I cast my doubts aside and fully dive into my impressions in order to discern more about it. If it's true that she is in pain then it would be helpful to know precisely why that is so just in case that information becomes relevant later.

I close my eyes as I concentrate. When I do, I discover that what I sense is considerably more nuanced than I initially noticed. Pain is the most prevalent emotion coming from her, but there are other layers on the surface that are equally real even if they feel thinner in comparison. For instance, I sense she really is pleased to see this crowd of ponies around her and to get a small break from her usual routines. As for the pain, though, I sense two sources for that. One is that she is mourning somepony, though it is twisted with suspicion too for some reason. The second reason for her pain is loneliness. For some reason I can immediately identify with that.

I open my eyes as I reason with myself that, if I ever get a chance to touch any of the gear the gang I am working for steals then it may grant me a secret chance to confirm or deny any of the feelings I am detecting from her now. I doubt I'd ever get the chance to just talk to her but there is no assurance she'd be honest with me even if that opportunity came up for some reason.

Seeing her also brings up a flair of pain in my heart because part of me wants to work with her and it even feels important. I don't fully know why but I always sensed something wrong with this city. A corruption that is growing in an otherwise pure heart. Like this city does have innocents worth protecting but they are being threatened by . . . I don't know. Some unseen force. The only verification I've personally seen of that is the growing illegal and secret slave trade, but for some reason my instincts keeps insisting that is just the tip of the iceberg.

Even if all of that is true, what can I do about it? I'm just one pony. One pony can't save the world . . . right?

I sigh, bow my head, close my eyes, and raise a forehoof to my forehead as I bid myself to get a grip. I try to remind myself that I have a mission right now on behalf of my guild. It's the only concrete reality that I'm working with for the moment.

When I finally compose myself and ground myself from all these internal emotions, I draw out a curved knife and use it to reflect the sunlight off of it to a very specific spot in an alleyway across the street. An alleyway that is currently caked in shadow despite the otherwise bright daylight beyond. Using that reflected light, I convey the information I have gathered so far about the visitors numbers (which includes their breeds), their formation and details on their valuable gear. To do this, I sometimes shield the knife from reflecting the sun using my other hoof. The duration of the blinks indicate certain letters or words. I also wave the light in an intricate pattern that only certain members of my gang's inner circle would be able to identify.

With that completed, my job at this post is officially done for now. The parade will soon be marching past my position anyway so there is no reason to continue to hold it. Besides that, it's generally better for criminal elements, like me, to remain on the move to help us stay one step ahead of the law.

“There you are,” taunts a gruff voice behind me.

Oh you have got to be kidding me! I'd recognize that voice anywhere since it belongs to a guard captain pony who relentlessly hounds me. Seemingly even more so than any of the rest of my guild, in fact. What is really aggravating and confusing, however, is the sheer frequency with which he succeeds. I could be in one of the most secret and remote hiding spots and somehow he keeps on finding me. It makes me wonder if he has some secret magical tracker on me somehow.

“You again, I see,” I say as I look back at him dryly. In doing so, I see my nemesis, a large gruff earth pony with a thick black beard, mane, and tail emerge from the shadows. He wears a taunting and sinister expression on his face. He has an advantage over me for the moment and he does appear to relish it.

“I told you that, no matter how far you go and whatever you do, I'll always find you!” Captain Grimwald promises darkly. “I'll hunt you down to the ends of the world if I have to.”

“Charmed, I'm sure,” I continue to say dryly while secretly wondering why this guy is so obsessed over me. That used to be an impression I fought for the longest time. I tried to convince myself that he just takes his job too seriously and that he'd do this over anypony, but nope! I've actually seen him let other criminals go if they gave him any valuable intel over me. That is strangely obsessive for a law-pony.

Just how did he find me today anyway?

“I'm sure you're wondering how I was able to find you today,” Captain Grimwald taunts with a mocking sneer on his face.

I widen my eyes as I admit, “Actually . . . yeah. The thought had crossed my mind.”

Captain Grimwald taps his head three times as he tells me, “It's because I know how criminal scum like you thinks. You pathetic street rats are all alike. I knew your gang and you would try something to case the visiting Princess and appraise her for all of her valuable jewels and such. I must admit, though, that part of me is actually impressed how bold you Red Cloven Sands can get sometimes. While other petty criminal gangs fight for scraps and trashy territory, your gang is actually bold enough to occasionally shoot all the way towards the top. A lot of my peers mocked and doubted me that your gang would actually go that far, yet here you are.” Without looking at me, he briefly nods to several of his other subordinates who are, even now, closing in around me. “And I brought witnesses too to help verify my case.”

I wince one eye shut and lift the eyebrow of my other eye as I ask him, “Would you believe me if I told you I simply wanted to check out the Princess along with the rest of the crowd? We don't usually get foreign dignitaries, like her, visiting the city that often. As for why I am here, I waited here because I didn't think it was safe waiting to see her among the crowd because I figured ponies, like you, would be searching for me there.”

Captain Grimwald actually lifts up his head skywards and laughs before looking back at me and taunting, “Then I guess I was smarter than you because I figured you would think that and I knew you'd want to wait somewhere high to get a higher survey of those marching in the parade. Face it,” he lowers his gaze while keeping his steely, narrow-eyed gaze fixed tightly on me, “I beat you this time! Now you are mine!”

I give him a charming bow with likely unnecessary flourish as I tell him, “Indeed. Well played, Sir. You shall well remember this day when you almost caught the legendary Swift Hoof.”

“Legendary my flank! I'll grind you into paste!” Captain Grimwald barks harshly then orders in a gruff and demanding tone, “GET HIM!”

Motion around me actually slows down just a bit as the Captain, and his cronies, charge in around me. I had anticipated this, though, because he was foolish enough to reveal himself and taunt me instead of tackling me down when I didn't notice him yet.

I leap backwards and crash through the window behind me. Part of me derives a little bit of pleasure at the astonished shock I see forming on Grimwald's face because of that. I give him a cocky one-hoof salute with my right forehoof while my left coils around a curtain that hangs to my left. I don't hold onto it too tightly, though, since I use it to slide downward and crash through another window on the floor below and to the left.

I actually end up tumbling into a small crowd of ponies who were busy looking out the window of that floor, probably for a very similar reason. In this case I end up tumbling onto three foals. Because of that, I reach a hoof past them and use it to push myself away from the floor as we all crash down onto the floor together. I do not want to press my full weight into these innocent foals, though, especially with some shards of broken glass on my person now.

“Oops. Terribly sorry,” I express as I rise to my four hooves then reach a hoof down to help scoop them up. “The accident with the window is my fault entirely,” I say with thick roguish charm.

The ponies here just gawk at me. Their minds are not thawed enough yet to yell at me . . . or swoon over me as the case may be.

“Fare thee well,” I say with a graceful flourish to them. “And you kids . . . stay in school so you don't grow up as clumsy as me.”

With that, I bolt away dashingly and leave the other ponies behind me in stunned silence.

Author's Note

Published this one while visiting Hawaii with my mom. Yay!