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Wind Meets the Rom : MLP Fan Fiction : WORK IN PROGRESS

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WIND MEETS THE ROM

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

28978 words

Cover Art by @wind-the-mama-cat

Writing begun 06/01/18

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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This is a WORK IN PROGRESS. New work or changes to earlier text are shown in Boldface Type

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Mama Dragon sat next Wind. Next to the Dragon stood a bowl of warm water, mixed with various healing herbs.

Mama Dragon dipped a soft rag into the water, and then gently wiped the four bloody, oozing gashes on Wind’s stomach.

The six inch long, jagged, gashes that were caused by…

“A manticore,” Penny said, as she stood opposite Mama Dragon. “This darned Cat, in her… journey to capture the 400 evil souls…” The tall mare sniffled, “Decided to fight a large manticore.”

Mama kept cleaning Wind’s wounds. Before cleaning her wounds, Mama had used a ‘sleeping powder’ to render the catter unconscious. She didn’t want her daughter moving around while trying to treat her.

“Oh, Wind…” she shook her head slowly. “And where did you find her?”

Penny crossed her arms. “She popped into my dimension, just outside my house. I don’t know why she came to me. So, using her map, I brought her here.” She stared at Wind’s wounds. “I know how to stitch small stab wounds, and bullet holes… but these… are beyond my skill.”

Mama set the cloth down in the bowl and then picked up her medical kit. She took out stitching thread and a needle.

“You know why she came to you, Penelope,” Mama said, as she used her flame breath to sterilize the needle. “Why you both don’t admit it, is beyond me.”

Penny scowled at Mama Dragon. “Because I don’t.”

Mama Dragon began to stitch the gashes shut. “If you don’t, then why did you go to her when she was possessed?” She glanced at Penny. “Even I couldn’t locate her. But you did. You found her, and you helped free her.”

“I found her because Evil let me find her,” Penny huffed. “She called to me, challenging me to fight, offering Wind as a prize. That doesn’t mean that I-”

Wind grumbled, but remained asleep.

Penny shook her head. “Look. I brought Wind home. She’s safe. I’m leaving.”

Mama said nothing as she moved to the second gash, making sure that she didn’t pull the first set of stitches.

Penny stomped to the door of Mama Dragon’s room. She stopped, and turned her head to look over her shoulder. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything, Penelope,” Mama Dragon said.

Penny’s shoulders slumped. She hadn’t realized that she was so tense. “I’m… I need some time to think. I’ll come back.” With that, she tapped her pendant and returned to her version of Equestria.

Mama shook her head, as she kept stitching Wind’s abdominal skin closed.

—

Wind woke up in her bed. She sat up with a scream but then fell back to her bed as the pain from her scars shot through her.

“MAMA!”

Mama Dragon came into Wind’s room and sat on Wind’s bed. She breathed her fire onto her hands and then placed her hands on Wind’s stomach.

“You’re safe, Little Kitten,” Mama smiled warmly, “Mama’s here. You’re safe.”

Wind looked at Mama Dragon. “Are you mad at me?”

“Mad? Never.” Mama Dragon mused, “I am confused as to why you thought that you could take on a manticore by yourself, without armor.”

Wind blushed as she looked away. “I…” She paused as she looked at her left arm. Or, rather her lack of left arm.

“Where’s my arm?”

“I removed it. You never came to see me after you were freed from Evil,” Mama Dragon said. “Soulblade, and your arm, might still have Evil corrupting them. I have to purge them.”

Wind frowned. “I… I was ashamed that I was possessed.” She sighed, “How long will that take?”

Mama adjusted her glasses. “A month.”

“I have to stay in bed for a month?” Wind asked/whined.

“No. You’re healed enough. Now that you’re awake, I’m sending you to recover in Equestria.”

Wind’s eyes went wide. “To go live with Penny?”

“No. Another Equestria. A peaceful version,” Mama answered. “I know of a horse that can help you.”

“Help me?” Wind asked. “With what? And I can’t. I have to collect-”

“You will go to Equestria,” Mama said sternly, cutting her stubborn daughter off. “No arm. No sword. No weapons. No mission. You will go and relax.” She quirked her eyebrow at Wind’s folded ears. “Am I clear?”

Wind lifted her ears. “Yes, Mama…”

Mama stood up and helped Wind to stand up. “Good.” She handed Wind her bag of holding. “I’ll come get you in a month, or so.”

She then placed a gold Dragon head necklace around Wind’s neck.

“This is to remind you that you carry my love everywhere.” She tapped Wind’s map, opening a portal. “Goodbye, Little Kitten.”

Wind stepped through the portal and came out into a forest clearing. She looked around and took a deep breath. “Well… this version of Equestria certainly is nicer than the Discorded version.”

“Why thank you.” A voice said. “I certainly think so.”

Wind turned around slowly, and came face to face with a small blue horse with a horn, white mane and beard.

“By the Spirits.” Wind said, instinctively reaching for Soulblade on her back. She blushed, and dropped her hand. “Who are you?”

“I am known by many names. However, you can call me De Writer.” The blue horse answered in a kind tone.

To cover her embarrassment at reaching for her sword, even if it was not there, Wind asked, “Um, when Mama Dragon sent me here, she said that there was a horse here that could help me. Are you him?”

De Writer gave her a sideways smile as he replied, “To state the answer really precisely while being no help at all, yes and no.

“This particular Equestria is mostly populated by ponies. What do you know about Equestrian ponies?”

Wind sat facing the blue one and said, “I only know about a pretty badly discorded Equestria. There, they have four kinds of ponies. There are unicorns, like you, pegassi, that have wings and can fly, earth ponies, that don't have wings or horns and there are also a few alicorns that are bigger and have both wings and horns. I am afraid that is about it.”

De Writer sat too and nodded his head. “We have those same sorts here but, as you noticed, this Equestria is neither Discorded nor Corrupted.

“We also have real horses. Those are a lot bigger than ponies. Most of them around here are called Rom and wander the roads, going from fair to fair. I am pretty sure that those are the ones that you were sent here to meet. Very relaxed and accepting group.”

Suddenly Wind looked around her at the empty land, a perplexed expression on her face. “How did you know that I would be portaling through to this exact place?”

De Writer pointed out dryly, “And which way you would be facing, so that I could be behind you, just in case you turned out to be hostile? Two things, really. The first is simple. I check out EVERY trans-dimensional crossing to this world. Second, is equally simple. If the portaler is hostile, I deal with them as necessary. If they are not hostile and pose no danger, I greet them or not, as appropriate.

“Shall we be on our way? It will be a bit of a hike to get you to Marchhare's band.”

As Wind was getting up she commented, “You are really good at not answering questions, aren't you, De Writer?”

Nodding agreeably, the old unicorn smiled, “Yep. Got lots of practice. About three thousand years of it, actually.”

As they strode across the grass, towards a woodland, Wind automatically searched with her eyes and other senses for possible dangers.

De Writer noticed it, too. “That is good, Wind. Always be on the lookout for dangers. Speaking of which, I have a Pro Tip for you. When facing down a good sized manticore, don't forget that the critter's tail is not there just for show. Not sure if you would have won, if you had not forgotten that, but your chances would have been a lot better.”

Wind paused to give the blue unicorn a long studying look. Shaking her head, she offered, “I don't know how you knew about that. Not even Penny or Mama Dragon knew about the manticore's tail getting me first.” She relaxed a little as she said doubtfully, “I am not sure why, but I sort of feel safe around you. Almost as if we had met before, but I am sure that I would remember a talking unicorn pony.”

The old one nodded agreeably, “You would certainly think so, wouldn't you?”

Topping a rise, he pointed. “See that road? Just where it goes into that copse of trees is a nice shady rest area complete with water and free firewood. There is a band of mostly horses camped there. The majority of the horses are actually unicorns with long horns, some straight and some with a little curve to them. They also have some Equestrian pegassi in the group. They are led by an old donkey.

They all speak Equestrian, which I know that you are fluent in. They also speak a second language called Gyptian which I am aware that you do not know. I would advise you to seek your rest cure there with Marchhare's band. They will probably seem a bit odd at times, but they are actually fine horses.

“Oh, second Pro Tip. As far as they are concerned, they are ALL HORSES. Even the ponies among them say the same. They regard being called ponies to be a bit of an insult.”

As she was striding down the hill, Wind nodded. “I will bear that in mind. Thank you, De Writer.” A few strides further, Wind turned, her eyes going wide with surprise. There was no obvious sign of the old blue unicorn. Trained examination of the grass showed his tracks and hers. Then, abruptly there were only hers.

Shaking her head, she muttered, “And, he knew where I was coming through and which way I would be facing. I wonder just how dangerous he would be if he was angry?”

While she was pondering that question, Wind came to the road itself. It took only a cursory look to realize that though it appeared to be a simple gravel road, it was actually far better made than any such road of her experience.

While she was strolling along the roadway, Wind was contemplating the sort of civilization that would put so much effort into a road. It was strong enough not to fear invaders taking over the land by usurping the roads. It was well connected internally and relied strongly on commerce.

She heard the music and laughter before she found the turn off for the wayside rest area. The sign, in the Equestrian that she knew, said

Royal Road

Red Branch Section

Wayside #7.

The music had two unique sounds to it. The solid ringing underbeat was clearly a smith hammering iron. The other was from flutes, some kind of stringed instruments and drums. Besides matching the rhythm of the smith, they had music going in scales and beats that Wind had never heard of before.

She entered the wayside area and paused to watch first. Basic adventuring skill, there. Try to understand a situation before getting involved in it. Four pegassi with the familiar pastel colors and patterns that she knew from Penny's world were getting some sort of dancing instruction from two big horse sized unicorns, one pure black with a snow white mane and tail and the other, slightly bigger was a chestnut brown sorrel. She noticed the donkey that she had been told of. He was in the group providing the music. He was working a pair of drums to produce a complex beat.

Apparently whatever the mares were telling the pegassi was done. They positioned themselves carefully and listened for a cue in the music. They lifted their wings and with perfect timing, gave a powerhouse of a down stroke that lifted them all into the air. It was easy to see that each move of the pegassi was not only made in time to the music, each of the dancers, no other term would do, was making a cohesive whole pattern with the other dancers.

The dancers touched the earth in a four part pose, the two at the rear had each raised a wing toward the other and fanned the opposite wing toward the audience. The other two dancers had alighted with inside forehooves pointing to the old donkey, and kneeling the other foreleg. Their wings were folded close.

All of the assembled, um, horses, leaned their heads back and trilled loudly when the performance ended. Realizing that this was applause, Wind felt like doing the same. The airborne dance was an amazing performance.

She noticed that the pegassi were luxuriating in the hugs given by the magic from the horn of a red roan mare who had gathered them close. The more that Wind observed, the greater the differences from any pony that she was familiar with became apparent. These, even the ones that were dancing in the sky, ALL wore brilliant colored sashes of amazing fabrics. There were satins, brocades and even plain looking cloth, all sorts of colors, cuts, sewed designs and embroidery. Even the foals, off to one side from the rest wore them.

Another thing that caught her eye were the harnesses worn by every one of the horses, even the foals. Besides being solid workaday harness, they were beautifully tooled and dyed. Even the donkey wore one.

She had been advised that they all could speak the Equestrian that she was familiar with but none were. The language that she was hearing was a fluid, almost musical tongue. Sourly, she remembered that the old blue unicorn had mentioned that, too.

The nearby foals were playing some sort of game involving chasing a ball about. It appeared that they were not using any magic, though most had horns. A miskick sent the ball hurtling toward Wind! Compared to some of the battles that she had been in, this was slow enough for her to think and override the impulse to use her now missing arm. Realizing from her observation that they did not hold the ball, Wind batted it from the air and sent it back to the pursuing foals with a well aimed kick of her own!

Foals charged after it, continuing their game.

She did notice that one of the foals left the game and trotted over to the old donkey.

After a brief conversation, the foal returned to the game, sashes catching the sun.

Wind decided that the time for concealment was over and walked in along the entrance road toward the camp.

The black and white unicorn mare left the dance group and trotted up to Wind. In delightfully accented Equestrian, she greeted, “Are you the Wind Whisper that old De Writer told us to watch for? If so, please feel welcome in our camp.”

Wind made a moue. “You were expecting me? Does that old blue unicorn tell everyone what I am doing?”

The black and white unicorn giggled behind her hoof before replying, “Not at all. I know that he spent a bit of time with my father Marchhare. He often does. They have been friends for something like 800 years. Dad told me to welcome you when you were done watching us from the shadows of the trees.”

Formally, the mare held forth a forehoof and said, “In the name of Marchhare, Rom of the band of Marchhare, I, Black Lotus, offer you, Wind Whisper, the hospitality of our band.”

Wind held out a hand and took Black Lotus' extended hoof and sniped back, “I, Wind Whisper, on behalf of myself, accept your generous invitation.”

Black Lotus's eyes twinkled as she offered, “You are just in time for lunch. Since we knew that you were coming and a carnivore, we caught a couple of bunnies and pulled some trout out of that stream over there. We baked them up into pasties along with eggs and some cheese. They should keep well.

“We did not know how you liked sweets or spices so they are pretty plain, right now.”

Pretending shock, Wind asked archly, “What, De Writer didn't let you know something that important?”

The old donkey had joined them, his elaborately tooled headstall complimenting his harness design excellently. He brayed, “Nope. He doesn't tell us everything. Very irritating of the old pony, too.”

Wind was sort of taken aback. “Um, how long have you known him?”

The old donkey replied seriously, “Me personally, about 800 years, give or take. For the rest of this crowd, all their lives. For the Rom as a whole, around 800 years. They ran into him shortly after I rescued their ancestors from the desert of Celestia's Anvil.”

The mare Black Lotus tapped the donkey between the ears and suggested, “Father, be a dear and go cast your shadow on the serving line for lunch. It is all ready. Do caution the others about the meat and fish pasties that I put up for our guest.”

“Go cast . . .” The old donkey looked down. He seemed sort of embarrassed as his shadow slowly appeared where sunlight had been shining. Directly through him, apparently. “Right, I will go help serve.”

Wind stared after the old donkey. He was casting a shadow now. The only giveaway that something about him was off kilter was the simple fact that he left no tracks.

Black Lotus calmly suggested, “I will tell you about father in a little. For now, let us go and get some food while there is any left!”

Wind glanced at her hostess with a snicker and suggested, “Race you?”

Black Lotus shook her head. “Not yet. Not with those injuries. Right now, you need to take it easy, unless you want me, dad, and mom repacking your guts. You were lucky that those claws didn't quite open you up.”

Instantly soured, Wind griped, “De Writer tell you that, too?”

Suddenly she felt herself wrapped in the softest of pale blue magic. It was like no hug or hold that she had ever experienced before. Black Lotus was carrying her in it without any apparent effort. As she did, she explained, “No, De Writer is innocent of that particular thing. I am a good surgeon. Mom is better and dad, with a little help from either of us, is even better. I shouldn't have, but I peeked inside you to see how well you are healing. That is why I am carrying you now.”

Wind very suddenly became still. In a small voice, though still defiant, she asked, “What did you find, Snoopy?”

The mild reply was, “My name is Black Lotus. What I found is some inflammation at both the surgical work and some in your nerves. The surgery was really well done, if that helps. The inflammation came later. I am pretty sure that we can treat it, though. If we can, you will just have to take it easy for a while to let things heal up properly.”

They came to the lunch serving line. Black Lotus said something in the lovely fluid language that Wind decided that she was going to learn if she stayed long with these . . . horses.

Both the chestnut sorrel and the odd donkey left the serving line and joined Black Lotus, who was still holding Wind. There was a brief conference in the fluid language. The chestnut sorrel slightly tipped her horn, which glowed with an amber magic aura that matched her eyes perfectly. The magic flowed into Wind and bridged down to the donkey named Marchhare.

He nodded and spoke Equestrian to the brown mare, “Thank you, Hoof Dancer, my dear. Black Lotus was pretty spot on. We can treat this easily but Wind will need carefully supervised rest and light exercise.”

Wind pointed out sarcastically, “I am right here, you know. Would it be too much trouble to tell ME exactly what the problem is?”

The old donkey nodded agreement and sat. Gesturing expressively with his long ears, he stated, “Right you are, my dear Wind. As Black Lotus informed us, your original surgery was quite well done. Unfortunately a bit of infectious inflammation has begun to progress up some nerves that were severed.

“Right now, if we can keep you properly rested and LIMIT your exercise, we can stop the problem. If we do not try to stop it or you choose not to follow our directions you will either die or be permanently paralyzed in about two days time.

“The critical issue is to prevent the inflammation from reaching your spinal column. If it does, there is little to nothing that we can do to save you.

“So, now that you know what the problem is, will you let us save you or not?”

Wind retorted, “I have to. Mama Dragon would never forgive me if I died after all of her work to save me.”

Black Lotus snickered, “Good. That means that those pastries that I cooked up for you won't be wasted! Lucky for you, your mouth, stomach and guts are not restricted.

“For now, let me carry you. We don't want to put any stress on those nerves and the inflamed muscles. Yet.”

In spite of her reservations, Wind was impressed by the versatility of the unicorn magic that she could see in use. Not only was she being held without apparent effort, Black Lotus was loading up a pair of plates and drawing two mugs of what looked like tea.

As soon as she was done loading up, she trotted over to a shady spot under a broadly branched tree and set everything out, including Wind. She had even put a picnic cloth under it all.

Black Lotus busied herself, putting Wind's plate into easy reach and giving her a big mug of the tea.

Wind watched it all and felt the soft cocoon of magic slowly dissolve. She pointed out, “Mama Dragon didn't say anything about my wounds being too deep. They were mostly in the abdomen wall, though they did cut up those muscles pretty badly. Did she miss something?”

Black Lotus pointed with her horn to Wind's plate. “Eat up. You are right about the claw and fang wounds. A manticore's tail has a poison stinger that is pretty long. Lucky for you, it had a good hunt pretty recently, so it was out of venom. It hit you with the tail once. That puncture did go through into your gut but didn't do much damage at all. Mama Dragon fixed the small hole near perfectly. However, that is where the inflammation started. The nerves involved are pretty close to the surface and go around your abdomen to your spine. That is why they got cut by the claws.”

Wind chewed and swallowed her bite of meat pie before answering, “Um, Mama Dragon did send some medicines with me. Maybe you should look them over.”

Black Lotus had settled herself in the soft grass a and was nibbling around the edges of a largish iced pastry. She had a big mug of tea held in her magic. She took a leisurely sip and swallowed before answering, “That would be a good idea. We know good medicines for equines of all sorts and goats really well. We are pretty good at wolves and some other carnivores too. Not too experienced with cats and otters. I would bet that your Mama Dragon has a lot of experience in what works on you.”

Wind replied defensively, laying her ears back, “What would you know about that?”

Black Lotus tilted her head and batted her long eyelashes at Wind as she retorted, “Only that you have got to be as old as you are and will still attack a manticore without armor or a good heavy crossbow. Both would have been useful in that encounter. That speaks of really good medical care being available to take care of little boo-boos.”

Somewhat taken aback, Wind changed the topic while shifting her position to hide some of her other scars, “I think that I like the bunny pastie best, though the trout one would be great with some seasoning. How do you make gravy like these have?”

Black Lotus gave a mischievous glance and nickered, “Sheer skill, that and thickening with Ka'chek flour.”

More seriously she went on, “That last part, while true, is also a secret that we don't share. It is one of the things that make Rom cooking and baking in high demand at markets and fairs.”

Wind nodded thoughtfully. “I was indirectly told that you Rom were sort of isolated from pony society. Why not find a place to settle down and fit in?”

She could tell from the slightly shocked look on Black Lotus' face that she had accidentally hit a nerve.

“We couldn't do that! If we did, who would lay the stones on the lakes of our loved dead?” Far more softly, Black Lotus added, “Besides, if we settled somewhere, Dad might decide to leave us and go back to the Lake of Paradise. What would we do then? Who would watch over us? We would have to stop being Rom. We would just be, … ponies.”

Seeking a safer topic, Wind asked, “How come your horn is straight? I noticed that a lot of the others in the band have curved horns, like your mother.”

Black Lotus nodded, “You have sharp eyes. If any Rom has a horn, they are descended from Dad, our Ghost Who Guides. A straight horn like mine means that I am his direct filly. My foals will have a slight curve and theirs will have more. Our horns stop curving around four generations away from dad.”

Wind's forehead wrinkled in thought while she chewed another bite of excellent rabbit pastie. “You weren't kidding just now, were you? I mean about Marchhare being a ghost. I just realized that when we first met, he wasn't casting any shadow. Later, after you reminded him, he did have a shadow but he wasn't leaving any hoof prints. How can a ghost have . . . um, foals like you?”

Black Lotus grinned and asked in return, “What? Didn't your Mama Dragon teach you about that? Yes. Dad is a ghost, for real. Don't try to tell him that, though. He is as much here as he wants or needs to be.

“He still insists that he did not die on the desert of Celestia's Anvil while saving our ancestors, eight hundred years ago. He just took a nap. Caught up to the rest of the group after he was rested up.

“Some nap. Three days later, he caught up to our ancestors, the cast off slaves that he gave his life to save. He looked then, like he looks now. Instead of starved and dying of thirst like when he laid down in the shade of that rock ledge where his bones still are, he was plump and well fed. He guided us through the tricky mountain pass to Equestria and has guided us all ever since.”

Wind cocked her head skeptically. “Really? How do you know that he actually died on that desert?”

Black Lotus quietly wept a few tears while answering, “Because Hoof Dancer and I just came back across the mountains a few days back, up at Wayside 15. We pretended that we were gathering the rare yellow yew root bark that grows up in the pass. Actually, we went on across. We took him a fresh pot of water from the spring of Sha Ja Shehan and fresh browse from its banks. We left them by his bones and laid the stones for him.

“He did not just die and come back for us. He turned his back on the Lake of Paradise and all that goes with it to keep his promise to guide some cast off slaves. He is still keeping that promise.”

Wind nodded slowly while chewing another bite of the rabbit meat pie. “I can see how doing something like that might lead you to believe that he died there, all right. Especially since you have a dad that you have to remind about little things like casting a shadow or leaving hoof prints.”

It was obvious that Black Lotus caught Wind's sarcasm as well as actual observations of her dad's . . . umm, unique ways.

Several of the band's foals came over and spoke to Black Lotus in that almost musical language of theirs. She nodded to them and returned a short sentence. They curtsied to her and trotted off.

Wind saw them talking to old Marchhare. Soon the foals and the pegassi were deep into lessons of some sort.

Wind's eyebrows rose as the foals opened their books, flipping them up. They appeared to be bound across the top, rather than the side. The lesson was being given by the red roan mare that Wind had seen earlier. Watching the younger foals read, keeping their place by shifting little hooves let Wind realize that the writing went from the right margin to the left.

She turned to see Black Lotus regarding her intently. When she had eye contact she smiled and observed, “We write differently than ponies, too. I see that you noticed it. Rose is a really good teacher for reading and writing.

She has a wonderful heart. The Skydancers are so lucky that she was there to take them in after their parents were murdered. She adopted them and is raising them as her own. She has them almost ready to do their first public performance since it happened. Mom, that's Hoof Dancer, and I have been helping them too.”

Wind nodded thoughtfully as she replied, “I saw that when they did their dance today. I couldn't see any problem in the dance. I wondered where their parents were. So the red roan mare is Rose? Doesn't she find it difficult to raise foals that can fly?”

Black Lotus smiled softly, shaking her head in negation, “Not in the least. They are the finest family that Rose could ask for.”

Terminating a potentially unpleasant conversation, she asked, “May I examine the medication that your Mama Dragon sent with you?”

Wind shrugged off the fairly small and ordinary looking bag with its shoulder strap. Setting it on the ground, she opened the tie and reached her arm down into it, apparently far below ground level, as she fished out the packages with her medications.

Looking up, she saw that Black Lotus did not even appear to be surprised. Slightly crestfallen that her little showing off had not impressed her host, Wind explained, “It is a bag of holding. It can hold almost anything.”

A small smile quirking her lips, Black Lotus said, “I am familiar with the concept. Dad's caravan is sort of like that. You will be sleeping in there the first few nights, so that we can keep this inflammation under observation. Don't go back into the corridors or use the stairs without a guide. You can get lost.”

Black Lotus failed to notice Wind's indignant glare at the idea of getting lost in little seeming four wheeled caravan. She was examining the medications. She gathered three of the four and shook her head happily.

“I know these. They are good! I will ask Dad about the pot of ointment. I don't know what it is. Likely it is something that only grows on your world. Dad will know, or failing him, De Writer will for sure!”

Getting up, she offered Wind assistance in standing. “It is important to get some limited exercise. Walk slowly. I know that you are chafing at the bit to be more active but really, don't do it yet.”

Together, they walked slowly down to the four wheeled caravan. Marchhare greeted them, “What are those packets and the pot? Are they Mama Dragon's medicines?”

Black Lotus agreed, “They are. I know the ones in the packets and they are good. I have never run across this ointment, though. I thought that you might know it.”

Marchhare opened the pot carefully, explaining with a grin, “With Mama Dragon's sense of humor, you never know. Might be a spring snake in here.”

With the pot opened, he carefully examined the contents. He stirred up a small sample on a small clean spoon of silver. He sniffed it carefully and nodded sagely. “I have seen this before, once. De Writer and I were a few worlds away, doing a demon stomp. Some of the local healers used this. It works really well where you have to open an abscess and drain it. Then you wash it out and apply this to the inside of the abscess. It heals it right up.”

Wind's ears pricked up and she inquired archly, “What were you doing stomping demons on some other world?”

He looked up and said seriously, “Defending this one. It is sort of important to me, since I and my family live here.”

Wind shook her head. “How is fighting demons on some other world defending this one?”

The old donkey lifted his ears in amusement as he pointed out, “The best place to defend your real estate is on someone else's real estate. Keeps yours from getting all trampled in the fight! If you do it right, the ones whose real estate you do trample will even thank you for the favor.”

Wind was quietly dumbfounded by the sheer elegance of the notion. Still, she couldn't really help sniping, “Just how do they thank you? I am sure that mere words would not be enough.”

The old donkey grinned hugely at some private joke as he nodded. “So right! Spoken like a true adventurer! Amazing how gold can prove the sincerity of thanks!”

He turned toward his caravan and flipped his tail as he suggested, “Follow me. I am going to show you where to put your things and where you will sleep while we have you under observation.”

As Wind was following him into the caravan, she was hit by a memory. “What did you mean about Mama Dragon's sense of humor? Have you ever met her?”

“Yep. Several times. Lovely dragon. One of the best Watchers that your world has ever had. She even gets along with those Spirits that sort of run things there.”

Gesturing with an ear and a tilt of his head, Marchhare pointed out a sleeping stall inside the caravan. “Here is where you will rest of nights until we are sure that you are healing properly. There is a locker at the head of the stall for your things.”

Wind's sense of the uncanny was screaming alarms in her mind. She checked again. There was no mistake. There was a dining table fixed to one wall so that it could be raised and lowered out of the way. There were seats for four that also folded neatly away when not in use There was a compact kitchen space. There were four sleeping stalls, a window on each side and a door at the front, opposite from the one that they had entered by. She had seen the caravan several times where she could see the front and there was no door on the front of it.

Black Lotus was behind her and in spite of the sheer size of the lovely black and white horse, there was plenty of room! Wind could hear her snickering at her reaction to the seemingly huge interior. Wind noticed one other thing that made no sense. The inside was far higher than the caravan appeared on the outside. Black Lotus' long horn had plenty of room under the caravan roof.

Carefully hanging onto her composure, Wind observed, “No wonder you were familiar with bags of holding. You live in a Caravan of Holding!”

Marchhare and Black Lotus both giggled. Marchhare offered, “Pretty close. Whole different principle but the effect is much the same.”

Wind unfolded one of the sturdy folding seats and sat down. “Would it be asking too much to inquire exactly what I am in, if not a Holding Spell?”

Gone immediately serious, Marchhare took a seat too. He gestured to the door at the front of the caravan. “This is the tip of an iceberg, sort of. Technically, this caravan is a nexus of the entire Multiverse. If you know how to use it, you can go ANYWHERE at all. That includes some very dangerous places and some that are purely idyllic. Most are in between, somewhere. De Writer set it up for us both to use a long time ago, around six hundred years ago, roughly.”

He gestured at the door at the front of the caravan. “Going past that door will lead to what appears to be a huge maze of corridors, stairs and doors. Black Lotus did tell you that it is easy to get lost in there. If you stick to using just the nearby clearly marked doors there are lots of useful places and things that can be accessed.

“For now, use a guide if you want to go past that door.”

Wind digested that thoughtfully. “How can it possibly work? It can go anywhere? What about taking me home to Mama Dragon's cottage?”

Old Marchhare regarded her for an unsettling few moments before answering, “It can. That is how I have been to your world and met Mama Dragon. It may not be a good idea to go that way, though. She likely had her excellent reason for sending you the way that she did and for getting you back the way that she wants to do it. She is very wise.”

Wind sighed, “I do know that. So what now?”

“So we monitor you carefully and use Mama Dragon's remedies on you. You need to go easy on those wounds due to the inflammation but it is imperative that you do exercise some.”

Wind pretended injured innocence, placing her hand over her heart, as she proclaimed, “Oh, vile slave driver! You mean that I don't get to loll back in padded ease and nibble delicacies?”

There was gentle laughter from behind her. The chestnut sorrel mare, Hoof Dancer, had entered the caravan behind them. The interior of the smallish caravan was still not crowded. Hoof Dancer nuzzled her shoulder and told Wind, “That was exactly the right thing to say. I think that you will fit in just fine, while you are here.”

She used her magic to rummage in a richly carved chest and pull out a mottled brown and green cloak. After examining it carefully, she draped it over Wind's shoulders, so that it covered her missing arm.

“Here, my dear Wind, is a cloak proper to an adventurer such as yourself. In it you will be hard to see yet you will see easily.”

Wind felt the softness of the lining where lighter and darker rich browns chased each other with each shift of the fabric in the light.

Black Lotus nodded appreciatively, “That cloak will be perfect for you, Wind. Shansa Na Kili will be delighted that her fine weaving has found such a good use.”

Turning to her father, she suggested, “I have been thinking about Wind's inflammation, father. Perhaps we could make some small cuts along the inflamed nerve and introduce Mama Dragon's salve into them. That might greatly reduce or even cure the problem.”

He paused, thinking carefully. “You know, that is not a bad idea at all. If Wind consents, we could take her into surgery room one and do it all in under an hour. Then, as quick as the small cuts heal over some, she could begin to exercise properly.”

He grinned as he added, “Her idea of proper exercise and ours might differ a good bit, though.”

Wind snickered. “I do expect so. In spite of that, I will follow your recommendations. So, I get to see some of what is beyond the Great Door of Mystery?”

Black Lotus snorted, “Yes, but not much. Later, I will show you some of the more amusing places that we use, like my sewing room, for instance.”

Wind blinked. “What is so amusing about a sewing room? I mean other than it being in a one room caravan?”

Black Lotus smiled and replied, “You will see for yourself, but later. Now, I need to put you to sleep for the surgery.”

Wind felt herself held in that gentle seeming blue magic. There was a light touch, up high on the side of her neck.

Wind blinked a few times and looked about, trying to get her bearings. She was laying in one of those Rom sleeping stalls and covered by blankets. It took only a second to sort out that she was in the sleeping stall that Marchhare had showed her earlier as her sleeping space.

Her right side ached a little and itched. Questing fingers found a line of bandages that ran from her middle part way around her side. Remembering Mama Dragon's many bandagings of small kittenhood bangs and bumps, she carefully pulled her hand away from the bandages. Itch or not, you do not scratch bandages.

She heard a gentle voice observe, “Wind is awake, now. She is conscious and alert. She checked the bandages but did not scratch.”

Marchhare's head popped into view around the end of the stall. “You are doing really well, Wind. You need to stay reasonably still there for about another hour. That salve of Mama Dragon's is doing a great job.

“While you wait, Black Lotus will show you our spice chest, so that you can choose the ones that you think will do well in your food. OK?”

Wind nodded enthusiastically.

Black Lotus settled in comfortably at the foot of the stall and her magic brought over a small, ornately carved chest with many drawers. The two were soon engrossed in the task of sorting out what spices and seasonings would go well with which meats, poultry or fish.

The hour simply flew by. Black Lotus' magic gently picked up Wind and put her on her feet.

“It is time for you to begin gentle exercise, Wind. I promised to show you my sewing room and some of the other rooms beyond that mysterious door.”

Wind paused long enough to get her new cloak and set around her shoulders. “There. Ready for almost anything. Lead on, Black Lotus.”

Snickering, the big black and white unicorn opened the door. Wind was mildly taken aback and intrigued by the seemingly endless corridor that did not in any way appear on the outside of the caravan. Only a short way down the passage there was a red line painted across its floor. There were about a dozen doors packed into the walls leading up to that red line. They were all labeled in a beautiful script of tall and shorter vertical lines with loops and strokes connected to them along a center line.

With an impish grin, Black Lotus lead Wind past the red line and then down a flight of steps to a different apparent level and selected a door. Watching Wind for her reaction, she opened it.

Wind blinked several times but what she saw was still there. The door opened onto a dock. Tied up to the dock was a thirty meter long ironclad monster of a ship! It had bow and stern turrets sporting three guns each. They appeared to be around a hundred millimeter bores. Along the sides of the vessel were a number of smaller weapons, barrels protruding through metal shields.

The whole ship and dock was enclosed in a long room. Wind's sharp eyes noticed huge doors at the far end of the room. She pointed to them and asked, “Are those how you got this thing in here? Where did it come from?”

Black Lotus nodded, “Those are the doors that dad used to get it in here, all right. Dad helped to repel a demon invasion in the Chineighs Empire. The Pirate Queen, Qushie Han Lee, who owns the Chineighese navy, gave him this river monitor as a gift.”

Wind started to ask, “How . . .” and stopped herself. She leaned back out the door and looked at the maze of corridors, cross corridors a stairs going both up and down. Nodding to herself, she pointed, “THAT'S how! Where all do these corridors and doors go?”

Black Lotus shrugged. “Literally anywhere. Not only on this world, either. Dad says that it is completely infinite. All of these doors and corridors are a sort of window dressing to make it easier for ones like us to use.

“Now, I promised to show you my sewing room. It is back there on the caravan side of the red line.”

She led the way sedately back and casually opened a door. Wind made careful note of the exact pattern of the words marking it.

Now she was SURE that she wanted to learn this language. From the adventuring that she had done, she was pretty sure that these Rom were a unique culture. And what she had seen of it so far, a happy one. And far tougher and more ready to defend themselves if necessary than showed on the surface. Maybe there was an advantage to being led by an 800 year old ghost whose assistance in demon stomping was able to earn “little” rewards like 30 meter long ironclad river monitors.

Wind stepped through the door and got another shock. Having adventured on several worlds, she was used to the idea that other world's gravity felt slightly different. She noticed the change as she crossed the threshold. That was not all. The floor underfoot was STONE. So were the walls. Three tall windows let in the light of the SUNS! There were TWO of them. The land was pretty barren outside of the windows but she could see some sort of trees a short distance away.

Tearing her eyes from the outside scene, she noticed that the decoration of the stone and woodwork of the room was unlike anything in her experience. Curiously she inquired, “Won't the people who built this place want it back?”

Black Lotus replied quietly, “I don't think so. Dad says that we missed meeting them by a few years. They had some form of magic that I do not understand and don't want to. They had a war that nobody won. There were no survivors. Their towns and cities are still there, just empty. Not even bodies or bones were left.”

Brightening, she pointed out, “I keep my fabrics and leathers over here in these racks. Leather working is on that bench with the marble top. Leather tools and dyes are next to it. Over there are the sewing and cutting tables. Scissors, pins, needles and threads are in drawers under the sewing tables. Trims are on that rack of rolls and winders. The small forge is for making any buckles, rings or other fittings that you might want. I have bronze, steel, silver and gold to make up fittings and such.”

Wind spotted some of the racked fabrics that looked a lot like her cloak. She ventured, “Is that more of Shansa Na Kili's weaving?”

Black Lotus brightened up as she exclaimed, “You have a really good eye, Wind! She did all three of those bolts! She made those wonderful laces on the rolls over there too.”

Smiling, Wind offered, “I would like to thank her for this cloak. It feels so luxurious.”

As she led Wind out of her sewing room, Black Lotus replied happily, “That is a wonderful idea, Wind! We should keep an eye out for a pretty rock or stone along the road. We will pass her lake tomorrow and you can Lay the Stone for her and thank her in person. I will too. I have a question to ask her about how she made lace trims like those.”

Wind paused and sat at the table in the caravan and thought carefully. Brow furrowed in puzzlement, she asked, “Lay stones for her? I don't quite understand what you are saying. Part of what you said sounds like she is dead and part of it sounds like she is alive.”

Hoof Dancer looked up from some delightful smelling cooking that she was doing to say softly, “The loved dead are always with us. Shansa's body died about three years ago. We should pass her Lake tomorrow. When we do, we will Lay the Stones for her. You can thank her for her weaving and my many talented daughter can ask her about lace making.”

Wind blinked a few times. “You mean that she will be a ghost like Marchhare?”

Smiling serenely, she replied, “Not exactly, no. My husband turned his back on the Lake of Paradise and returned to be completely here with us. He makes light of it but I am sure that it was not so easy as he makes it to be. Still, our loved dead are always with us and we often sense that they are close and give us encouragement, advice or just return our love.”

Wind digested that thoughtfully for a while. Nodding acceptance, she agreed, “That sounds really sensible, especially when you have Marchhare there to sort of prove it. Whether I hear her reply or not, I would like to lay a stone for her and thank her.”

A voice that Wind had not heard before entered the conversation, followed by hoof steps on the caravan stairs, “I am so happy to hear that. Shansa is one of my best friends. I found a lovely fortification pattern sard for her. I am Rose, by the way. Rose Na Shara.”

Wind introduced herself, “I am Wind, Rose. Wind Whisper. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Wind. I have never met a being from another world before. I know that Marchhare and De Writer go to other worlds sometimes, but they have never brought any being back with them that I know of.”

Wind nodded. “I understand that pretty well. I have adventured on several worlds and some of them have things and, well, people that you really would not want romping about here.”

That was met by laughter from all present.

Wind added, “I saw your children's sky dance this morning. It was lovely. You must be very proud of them.”

Rose visibly swelled with pride. “They are very accomplished. I admit that I am nervous about them performing at the Haymarket fair. There will be unicorn ponies there and some of them drink more fermented locoweed than is wise.

“That is what happened to their birth parents. A drunken unicorn clamped their wings with his magic while they were a hundred feet up. They were both killed by the fall. Of course our loved dead are always with us but we do miss being able to hold them close.”

Wind nodded. “I understand. If you wish, I can help to watch the crowd to keep them safe.”

Rose agreed at once, “Extra eyes would be appreciated. Will you be healed enough to do that?”

Black Lotus chimed in, “Wind is mostly healed now, really. She will be able to move about freely in only two more days. It is three pulls to the Haymarket fair. All that she will need is to learn what to look for.”

Rose quietly accepted that, instead questioning, “Does Wind have some sort of magic that does not show? I mean, we all know that she has a missing forelimb.”

Silently, Hoof Dancer offered Wind a used sheet of parchment. “Show Rose what does not show, Wind.”

Grinning, she took the parchment and flipped it up into the air. She struck at it as it fluttered down. Two pieces of parchment fell to the floor. Picking up one, Wind flipped it up and slashed again. Four pieces, one only partly severed fluttered to the floor.

Rose, eyebrows raised, used her magic to pick up the pieces and examine them. “That is amazing, Wind. I did not see how you did that at all. It could be the foundation of a wonderful act. May I see how you did this?”

Wind, all smiles under that praise, rolled her right hand palm up, fingers extended. With the slightest of flexes, her five half inch long razor sharp claws extended.

Rose blinked about twice and said in awe, “You are an amazingly dangerous being, Wind.”

Old Marchhare, still working with his silver wire and pretty gem stones, looked up long enough to point out, “So are the Rom. We keep that pretty much under our headstalls, though. We don't want ponies to be afraid of us. They might not come to the fairs that we go to, if they were.”

Changing the topic, Wind asked, “Rose, I saw you teaching foals to read and write your beautiful language. I learn languages really fast. It is part of being an adventurer. Would you be willing to teach me your language?”

Rose looked over to Marchhare, who nodded.

She replied, “I would be happy to, Wind. We really do not share our Gyptian language with many others. Marchhare says that I should make an exception for you and really, I do like you. If you wish, we have an hour before dinner. We could start right away.”

Wind not only studied until dinner, she continued, fascinated by the way that the Gyptian words almost seemed to dance, whether in her mouth or on the page.

Failing daylight finally made her close the book that she was studying from.

As she was tucking herself into the sleeping stall, Wind felt the familiar gentle touch of blue magic snugging her blankets around her.

She said in her newly learned words, “Thank you, Black Lotus.”

Black Lotus replied quietly in her native language, “Sleep well, Wind Whisper Soulblade. Tomorrow will be a day spent on the Road.”

Wind snuggled down and muttered back, “Sounds like fun.”

Feeling completely safe, she drifted off to sleep.

Wind dreamed.

There were trees all about, evergreens mostly. Just ahead of her was a small cabin. Though moss grown, it was in surprisingly good repair. Inside, there was little enough. There was some furniture that looked as if it was damaged by a fight before time finished its work of destruction.

Something caught her eye. She looked about carefully before picking up a large feather of an almost opaline whiteness. Thoughtfully, Wind put the feather into her bag of holding.

Not far from it there was another feather similar in form but of a blue so dark that it resembled a night sky. It went into her bag of holding as well.

Deeply puzzled, Wind stepped out of the house that she knew, with dream knowledge, had been the home of her small childhood, before flight from a monster had cost her an arm and brought her to Mama Dragon.

Not far from the door she spied two markers, side by side. One read “Donovan, Loving husband and father.” The other, like the first, read, “Shiva, Loving wife and mother.” Wind fell to her knees, examining the graves in wonder. Each one was covered with brightly sparkling stones of little value, but pretty.

Wind awoke from her dream reliving of her first adventure to the happy sound of clattering cookware! Judging by the scents, among which Wind could spot the lovely aroma of cooking Ka'chek flour, work was well underway. Dressing quickly and draping her new cloak about her shoulders, Wind stepped out to greet the day.

Black Lotus saw her and called out in Gyptian, “A good day, Wind! Would you rather eat first and wash up dishes after or serve now and eat later?”

Wind unsnarled the words almost effortlessly. Being gifted with languages was a basic adventurer's skill. She returned, “Serve first, then eat. You have all made me so welcome that I would do something for you, too.”

Black Lotus responded, “Grab that ladle and start serving tea. You can have some too, between serving!”

As Wind began filling mugs, she noticed the approving expressions on the faces of the horses that she served. Soon the line ended. Black Lotus pointed with a hoof. “We made you pasties cooked with eggs and fish for this morning. Do you want help with your plate? WE get to sit back in padded ease and nibble while the others wash up and stow the cook ware!”

Wind responded by putting her mug of tea in the middle of the plate and arranging her pasties around it, so that she could manage the whole thing with her one hand. Just then, a filly that Wind remembered from the game yesterday trotted up.

She gave Wind a curtsy and asked, “Would you like to eat with us? We foals noticed that not only did you play the ball fairly, you are learning to talk, read and write. That means that you are one of us!”

Wind looked over at Black Lotus, who looked on to Hoof Dancer, who nodded an emphatic yes.

Wind looked at her new acquaintance and picked up her plate. “Lead the way! I am Wind, um, Wind Whisper.”

The foals were sitting quietly in the shade, near to a neatly boxed in spring with open water tank for the use of ponies and horses that stopped at the wayside. Wind appreciated the how well the wayside was laid out for the convenience of its users.

The foals were happily chattering away in Gyptian, pausing anytime that Wind showed any sign of confusion or misunderstanding to explain or show her the meaning of what they were saying.

Wind was sorting out Gyptian's interesting view of “caravan” being any device that hauled things OR any group of such devices. You could say one particular caravan in a caravan. You could even say how many there were in a caravan. She was both amused and bemused by the amazing idea that there was no plural for caravan.

The foals were amused by Wind's amusement. Quiet trills that the Rom used for applause greeted her sorting the matter out. One filly explained, “Ponies always have trouble figuring that out. You got it in only a few minutes!”

They all fell silent at once. Wind, following their stares, saw a plain brown earth pony whose mane and tail were only a little darker brown pulling a heavily loaded wagon down the access road into the wayside.

The first sight of the stranger caused her heart to skip a beat. He was the exact same color as her friend Penny. It was quickly apparent that he was nothing like Penny.

First, he barged into the Rom camp, dragging his wagon and dropping the hitch as if he was part of their camp. Second, he tried to just help himself to their breakfast.

Wind and the foals could hear Marchhare's voice as he demanded, “Right of Privacy in our camp! You must find your own camp spot and fix your own rations.”

“I ain't movin' til you fixes my sour wheel and gives me a good breakfast! Got it?”

Wind's eyes went wide with surprise as Black Lotus just asked, “Mom, will you get this worthless pony out of our camp? I have his caravan.”

Soft looking blue magic from her horn enveloped the intruder's wagon and lifted the several tonne load up off the ground. The squalling pony was also lifted by Hoof Dancer's magic. Both of them carried their burdens to a well shaded camp space with a fire ring and supply of firewood. They left him and his wagon there.

Utterly sour, the brown pony stomped over to the wayside's boxed spring. He was starting to demand, “You brats get away from here!”

Wind quietly stood up and laid her hand on the side of his neck. She said in a gentle tone, “If you try to bully these foals, you could wind up all scratched up by the bramble.”

Just as he was blustering, “There ain't no brambles here! What are you talking about?” Wind flexed her hand slightly. Tiny trickles of blood ran down his coat from her finger tips.

Smiling, to show her fangs, Wind replied, “I am the Bramble. Get your water in peace and you will have no problem with me.”

Grumbling, he went around the foals, eating in the cool shade. “That Waller lied to me about everything! Said Rom on the road was generous and would fix wagons with problems and share meals and all. Lies, every bit of it.”

One of the fillies raised her eyebrows and asked, “Waller Left Leg?”

“That's him! Not a word of it true!”

The filly smiled. “For him, it is all true. I bet that he told you to always be polite and never intrude on our camps too, but you just left that out, didn't you?”

He actually looked down and scraped the grass with his hoof before answering, “Well, yes. That part don't make no sense. I means, you is all Rom, not even proper ponies. Why would anypony be polite to you?”

She batted her eyelashes at him and chuckled. “Last that I looked, courtesy costs nothing. It would have been repaid with an invitation to eat and the repair of your cara ...” she paused, “wagon. Well worth the price, I would say.”

Wind looked about and smiled, a cheerful mouthful of fangs. “We are done with breakfast! Let's take our dishes back to camp for cleaning! I understand that we are going to be on the road today!”

Happy foals charged across the wayside grass to their camp. Wind paused only long enough to say, “Hanar was right, you know. About courtesy, I mean.” She loped away to the Rom camp after the foals.

By the time that the brown pony had got his water and returned to his camp, the Rom were putting away the last of their now cleaned cookware and utensils. Lockers were open and rigging parts for hitching up to their caravan were being selected and set up.

The filly Hanar was showing Wind the parts, naming them and laying them out. Wind was linking the parts together as well as learning the names of the pieces.

Hanar looked up from the setup and smiled. “Wind, you are learning Gyptian far faster than anyhorse that I have ever heard of. From what I am hearing, what you need most is just to build up your vocabulary.”

Wind nodded. “I have a gift with learning languages. It really helps my adventuring. I learn most languages in only a day or two. Like Gyptian, I will still need to learn new words but that is pretty automatic as time goes by.”

Hanar nodded to herself as she finished her Pulling set up and used her magic to latch her harness into place. She gestured with her horn to a place beside her. “Hoof Dancer was very particular that you walk alongside me today. I will be leading off the Road Songs. We sing to keep cadence and the Pull even. The songs also help the kilometers to pass. We are going to visit mother's Lake today. It will be so nice to visit her again. Our Loved Dead are Always With Us but I feel her most strongly at her Lake.”

Wind reached into her pouch of holding and pulled out a nice reddish pebble. “I was told something of Laying the Stones. While we were breakfasting, I noticed this one in the outfall stream from the wayside water box. Would it be proper? I mean, Shansa Na Kili wa, I mean, is your mother. You would know best.”

Hanar's magic took the stone delicately from Wind's fingers. It turned this way and that under her scrutiny. “That would be perfect, Wind. It is a small carnelian with most of the cortex worn off by water and other pebbles. That is just the sort of thing that we look for.

“Look! Everyone is hitched! It is time for the starting cadence!” In a loud clear voice, she called out, “Lean Left! Lean Right! Pull Left! Pull Right! Pull! Pull!”

The whole caravan of Rom got underway, all of them in perfect step and cadence. Wind was impressed. As they hit the main road and turned south, Hanar called out, “Shehan Ja Rom!” Moments later the melodious voices of the Rom filled the roadway.

Wind listened closely and began humming first, then softly, so that her errors would not disrupt the others, filling in with words and guesses for words. The singing made it easier for her to add to her vocabulary and, incidentally, learn the origin of the Rom as a race.

It helped that she knew some of the story but the song filled it out and put muscles on the bare skeleton that she knew. She thoughtfully filed away that she could see the eyes of a good number of her new friends and they were all showing signs of tears. The song came to an end and the mood changed!

Red Roan's Lullaby had nothing to do with sleeping! Wind picked up the chorus quickly and the short verses had her giggling.

Another was almost a tone poem about the road and its nature and how much the Rom loved the road as their true home. Hearing it, Wind recalled her conversation with Black Lotus about finding a place to settle. Now she understood the black mare's reaction far better. The Rom were settled, just not in a single place. Home was the road and the caravan.

They turned into Royal Road Red Branch Section Wayside #6 well before noon. There was a party there before them. There were pegassi in armor and carrying weapons. Their leader ordered the troop, “Stand Down! This is the caravan that we have been waiting for!”

Lounging in the shade of a tree were two more Rom, or so they appeared. A pure white, horse sized unicorn lay quietly beside another, slightly smaller horse of deep blue. Both wore the unique headdresses that the Rom called Freedoms and they were in lovely sashes and harnesses.

They sprang to their feet and virtually charged forward, calling out, “Marchhare! We got away from our Duties early! We have been waiting for you! We are ready to set up camp with you!”

Wind saw the other Rom all eagerly greeting the newcomers with, “Tia! Midnight! We hoped that you would be able to join us! Will you be with us for the Haymarket Fair?”

“Try to stop us! We got our schedules cleared all the way through to Monday!”

There was the happy clatter of hitches being taken apart and stowed. Even more promising, was the different clatter of cooking equipment being set up. Having already learned about Rom priorities, Wind got busy helping Hoof Dancer to set up griddles, grilles and a portable oven over the wayside fire pits.

While she was busy, she noticed that her enthusiasm was not shared by at least some of the pegassi. Two were stopped by the officer in charge as they started to stomp over to the encampment being set up. There was some sort of disagreement before they returned to ranks.

Wind noticed that the newcomers, Tia and Midnight, were already hock deep in Ka'chek flour and rolling out the dough with delight. Wind's shyness was broken by Black Lotus calling, “Wind! Come over and meet Midnight and Tia! They want to see you in person. Reports are so often impersonal!”

Wind trotted over, muttering, “Did that old blue unicorn tell everyhorse in the kingdom about me?”

Tia's lips twitched up in a bit of a smile. Midnight snickered, “Not at all. He did put a note about you into the Chronicle but it was that lovely old dead donkey over there who sent us the reports.”

Wind sent a small not really glare over to Marchhare. He snorted and retorted, “An army may march on its stomach but the life blood of a kingdom is PAPER!”

By then, Wind was already stirring up thick apricot filling for some of the pastries to come. There was a pot of berry filling waiting for the final stirring and, to Wind's surprise, there were pastry fillings with both fish and fowl ready to go too.

Midnight noticed Wind's casual look at the feast preparations and replied to her unspoken question, “We know that you are a carnivore, dear. Both Tia and I are skilled surgeons. Things like meat and blood do not bother us. We know and entertain the Gryphons from time to time also. Fixing you properly savory food is not only no trouble, it will show Shansa Na Kili that you are truly a member of Marchhare's band.”

Tia put in casually, “I have a couple of questions to ask her myself. She is such a good friend and shares her knowledge so willingly.”

Wind nodded. “So I have heard. I want to thank her for the fine weaving of my new cloak. I found her a nice pebble for the Laying the Stones. Hanar told me that it was a good one.”

Midnight's eyes softened as she kneeded more dough and replied, “That is wonderful. Hanar loves to visit her mother.”

Suddenly soft looking many hued magic sprung from Tia's horn and shot over to edge of the wayside! One of the armored pegassi was snatched from over near the woods and slapped to earth hard, in front of Tia and Midnight both! He had a sling with a stone in it. The stone, a nice, shiny petrified wood, bounced free of the sling pocket.

Both Tia and Midnight froze when they saw the simple pebble. Midnight called out in an astonishing loud voice, “Guards! Assemble before your Princesses! Witness the trial under the Royal Wing of Guard Sargent Hemlock!”

Wind recognized the guard as he was getting to his feet. He was one of the two that their leader had stopped from entering the camp earlier.

Tia ordered, “Remove all weapons from Hemlock, no longer a Royal Guard. Strap his wings.”

Two of the Guard stepped forward, secured his wings and removed all weapons from him, even searching his pouches and saddlebags.

He unwisely snapped, “You can't do this! I was minding my own business, just starting a little sling practice and you nab me for trying to improve my preparedness!”

In an utterly calm voice, that betrayed a volcano about to erupt, Midnight called, “Guard Major Hawkwing, do you know Hemlock's testing scores from the Manual of Rom Custom and Belief?”

The leader of the guards rummaged in a saddlebag and produced a ledger. Examining it, he replied, “Hawthorn scored 98 percent on the Rom testing. I assume that this relates to Rom beliefs in an afterlife and burial customs?”

Voice tightly controlled, Midnight stated, “It does.”

“According to the ledger, he missed none of those questions.”

“This question is for the whole formation. Were you briefed on why we came to this particular Wayside?”

In a ragged chorus, the Guards replied, “You are returning to the Lake of Shansa Na Kili, a long time friend, to Lay the Stones for her.”

Tia could see that Midnight was holding back with great difficulty and interposed for her, “What is the penalty for the desecration of any Wayside burial?”

“Twenty years at hard labor on the Royal Roads of Equestria or other labor as assigned by Your Highnesses.”

Hemlock could see where this was going. He demanded, “All this for ONE lousy pebble? I can just go over to the road there and get you another rock! What is so important about this one?”

Holding her composure by less than a hair, ears laid back and lips snarling back from fangs, Midnight, Princess Luna, growled, “When we closed Shansa's Gateway to the Lake of Paradise, I LAID THAT PARTICULAR STONE MYSELF! Your lack of respect for any custom but your own, we accept. Your VANDALISM and DESECRATION of graves whose custom you know, whether you share the belief or not, we will not tolerate!

“Hemlock is VACANT! The Barony shall be filled according to the Law of Succession. The goods, accounts and all other personal things belonging to Wiltin, late Baron of Hemlock, shall be distributed to his heirs according to the Law of Equestia.

“Guard Major Hawkwing, detail two of the Guard to escort the prisoner in chains to the Royal Road Police station at Haymarket Road Section gate to begin serving his twenty years of hard labor.”

As Wiltin was led away to the jingle of chains, Midnight turned to Wind and asked plaintively, “I am so sorry that you had to see that, Wind. What must you think of us?”

Wind did not even pause, but answered back in Gyptian, “I see that you love Shansa very much. I also saw that, what was his name? Wiltin, knew that he was breaking long standing laws when he did that. He was counting on that bit about it being one lousy pebble to make it a minor infraction. I suspect that it would not have mattered which stone he took. I don't blame you. You simply defended a friend who could not defend herself.”

Midnight gathered her into a hug with her magic and wrapped a big dark blue wing around her as well. Wind felt amazingly safe and comfortable in that hug. Slowly, she became aware of the nature of the wing holding her, lifted free of those Rom sashes and harness.

Looking in wonder at Midnight, Wind stammered, “You, you are an alicorn! From what I have heard, that makes you a Princess on this world.”

Midnight chuckled. “Here we were throwing our weight around as Princesses when Wiltin messed up but it took my wing to tip you off that I can be royalty?”

Wind pursed her lips and carefully pulled the large wing close before replying, “Actually, I had already put it together that you are royalty but my startlement had a different cause. I had a dream last night about the house that I was born in and the graves of my parents. The color of your wing tied into the dream. It was part of my very first adventure. And a very good memory.”

Midnight smiled gently. “I am gladdened that you have such a good memory of your first adventure and that it is somehow connected to me.”

Tia put in, “We have heard that you are learning to bake after our fashion. Would you be so good as to roll out the dough so that we can fill the shells?”

For an answer, Wind simply picked up a roller and started rolling out, dusting with flour, folding and rolling again and again the pastry shells to make many fine layers that would rise up and make a puffy pastry around the fillings.

As fast as a shell was ready, it got filled and put to bake by Hanar who was happily chattering away about all the things that the band had been doing for some time past. Wind listened carefully, though she understood that Hanar was not talking to her. She was pausing in her chatter to listen to answers or comments that no other horse or pony heard.

Wind took a moment to whisper to Midnight, who was closest, “Didn't you want to visit with Shansa too?”

Tia overheard and, while kneeding up some more Ka'chek dough, replied, “Hanar is her daughter. Our questions can wait.”

Wind's adventure trained hearing caught the Guard Major Hawkwing saying, “Halt! Sargent Greenforest, you must not enter the Rom camp without invitation.”

There followed something too quiet to make out, followed by, “You just saw what happened to Hemlock! He knew that he was violating the Manual of Rom Custom by that idiot stunt. Going to set them straight about dead is dead could land you in the same boat! What do you mean which boat? The one going over a waterfall with rocks at the bottom! At least as far as your career is concerned.”

There was a pause before he went on, “Let me tell you something, Greenforest. I have been on this duty for more than seven years. Everything will be normal, as much as anything is normal around the Rom. Then, you will see something utterly uncanny. If you are smart, you will figure out that the Rom are way more than Fair going attractions and wanderers.”

Wind quietly filed away the notion that the Rom customs regarding the dead were not universal here. Her revere was cut short by Midnight giving her a new lump of dough.

“Here, Wind, this dough is for your pasties. We added some blood and a shortening from meat to make it tastier for you.”

Wind set to rolling it out with a will! She was surprised when Hanar set about filling her pastries and putting them to bake without any trace of the squeamishness that most of the band exhibited around any sort of meat.

Hanar noticed Wind watching her. She smiled and offered, “See, Mother? Even our new member has noticed. I felt so helpless when you went to the Lake. Not even Marchhare, Hoof Dancer and Black Lotus could keep you here with us. They did try, though. Now I am studying with them to be a healer like they are. It won't stop me from weaving, any more than it stops Hoof Dancer from being the finest dancer among the Rom.”

Hanar continued her happy chatter while she was watching the baking pastries.

Wind, finished with the dough rolling, looked over the work to be done and began washing up. She was surprised to find both Midnight and Tia working along side her.

The quiet slopping of the soapy water and then the rinse made a soothing rhythm.

Midnight said softly, “I do hope that you will forgive my intrusion, but I have been using a Bridge of Dream on you. I wanted to see why your Mama Dragon had you staying here with us for a month, when your wounds will be healed in only another day.”

Not at all alarmed, Wind leaned over and nuzzled her dark blue fur before asking, “Did you find out what you needed?”

“I do believe so, Wind. I think that what you are to get from the Rom is the same precious thing that my Sister and I get. A stable and accepting family.”

Wind slowly nodded. Thinking over all that had happened since she arrived, she had to say, “I hope that you are right. I had not even realized it, but that is what I am feeling. Actually cared about by more than my Mama Dragon. Maybe that is why I dreamed of my kittenhood home.”

“That could be the reason, Wind. Now, these last few pots won't rinse themselves.” They got quietly busy. Soon the last one was set to dry.

Tia raised her voice in a happy trill! “The feast is ready! Let us Lay the Stones and show Shansa those new things and accomplishments that we have done since we last visited her Lake!”

All of the Rom came forward to surround a place just outside of the Wayside. They all waited for Hanar to step forward first. As she did, Wind felt the tug of her magic pulling her gently forward too.

Hanar knelt both of her forelegs and her magic placed a beautiful nearly clear agate with fine mosslike dendrites in it at the center of the grave or Lake, as the Rom called it.

Wind was shaken and shocked by emotions as she saw Shansa's Lake covered with many pretty stones of little value but shining in the sun.

Eyes blinking back tears, she whispered, “Shiva. Donovan. They remember you and care for you, too.” Swallowing hard, she laid her small reddish carnelian alongside Hanar's agate. Hanar's magic softly helped her to make way for old Marchhare.

Wind sat, shivering with tears as the others all Laid their Stones. Tia and Midnight waited to the last. Midnight Laid her Stone and said, “Flowers fade. These Stones will stay bright for so long as there are Rom to remember Shansa Na Kili.”

Wind looked up, eyes swollen by tears, and reached into her bag of holding. She laid out two large, iridescent feathers. One white, almost opaline in appearance, the other of the deepest blue, like a midnight sky.

She shook her head, trying to get her thoughts into order. “I found these in my kittenhood home.” She sniffled, “And somehorse has been Laying the Stones for my parents, Shiva and Donovan. They were killed protecting me. The beast that did it was slow to pursue me, giving me the start that I needed to get away. I fell off a cliff. That is what happened to my arm.”

The others nodded in quiet acceptance. The condemnation that Wind feared for interrupting the ceremony was not to be found in any eye.

Instead, she saw the deepest sympathy. “I hope that I did not spoil your Laying of the Stones,” she ventured.

Hanar nuzzled her and snorted, “A tale like that, backed up by real evidence? What Mom wants to know is how you survived the fall. You didn't finish the story.”

Wind looked up from where she was sitting and replied, “Mama Dragon was out gathering some wild herbs. She heard me fall and found me. She took me back to her cottage and saw to my healing.

“There is a lot more, but you all have things to show or tell Shansa, too.”

Hanar nuzzled Wind again before saying, “I have been telling Mom all about you and how you came to us. I told her about our Pulls all the way up to Corbiestep fair and all the places in between, too. Now it is every other horse's turns.”

Old Marchhare stepped up to the edge of stones glittering in the sunlight and held out a small box of wood that was almost black. It was intricately carved and had a glossy finish. “I want to use your Blackwood in jewelry boxes and cases. For the last three years I have been trying to equal your finish. What am I doing wrong and what is right?”

He cocked his ears in what Wind had learned was a totally attentive way. Suddenly he pursed his lips in surprise. “That simple? Thank you, I am going to try it right away!”

He gave way to Tia who held out some strings in her magic. The conversation was inaudible but the strings, held in Tia's magic, unwound, stretched snug and plucked. They then flexed oddly and rolled up.

Tia's face was thoughtful as she examined the strings again, nodding in comprehension.

Midnight was brief and to the point. “I have a new recipe. Share it with you at the feast!”

Many of the others were simply respectful greetings. Some, like Marchhare or Tia took a while to clear up some thing or other.

Shansa, it appeared, was not a one trick horse.

It was not long before it was time for the feast. This time there were trestle tables and a serving line. Without hesitation, Wind took her place, serving up pie slices and helpings of several sorts of scrambles. And cautioning, “Not those pasties, they have my meats in them!”

Soon everyhorse was seated at the trestle tables and partaking of the plenteous feast that they had prepared. Hanar was sitting next to a plate at an empty place. Every sort of good thing that they had fixed piled it high. Shansa's place.

The guard Greenforest could not contain his contempt for the Rom and stomped straight into the camp! Midnight and Tia noticed. Signaling with their horns to Hanar, they quietly kept on eating. Greenforest barged right up and started to muscle his way into Shansa's place.

“Lots of good stuff here! I will just - “ was as far as he got. Hanar's magic, as softly yellow gold as her lovely eyes, had him wing bound, hoof bound and muzzled. In the irresistible grip of her magic, he was lifted and placed beside the Wayside trash bin, over twenty meters away.

Guard Major Hawkwing approached and requested, “Permission to enter the camp?”

Marchhare gestured magnanimously, “Feel free, Major Hawkwing! What can we do for you?”

“I would like to ask young Hanar a few questions. I want her to know that she has done no wrong in this.”

Hanar did look up, giving the Major her full attention. “What do you want to know, Major Hawkwing?”

“Um, first, why did you not put Greenforest in the trash bin?”

She grinned, “Because he is not trash. I did not want to give him such an insult. He is rude but that is likely temporary. Stupid ponies rarely get as far up as the Royal Guard. This is his first time serving when the Princesses are Rom, isn't it?”

“It is. Should he be removed from the Guard? I saw the Princesses put the case in your hooves.”

She chuckled, “No. I remember a younger Sargent Hawkwing's first experience with us. I was really little then, but I do remember you, Sir. You turned out great. Give Sargent Greenforest the same chance.”

She cocked an ear toward the empty place beside her and got up. She came back with a pie slice and offered it to Guard Major Hawkwing. “Mom says that is the last slice of Black Lotus's peach pie. You better have it so none of us fight over it!”

“Since you see and hear her, please thank Shansa Na Kili for me.”

“She heard you, Sir. Enjoy your pie. I gotta get back to mine.”

Wind was watching the entire event with delight. She was thinking, these are my kind of folks!

Stories of Shansa's life, escapades, and accomplishments were flying thick and fast about the feasting table. Wind was listening carefully and trying to commit them to memory. She determined to ask some of the horses telling them for better details. To her, this was the most amazing thing that she had found in any adventure.

She observed that the Guard had sent two of their number to intercept Sargent Greenforest. He was taken, protesting all the way, back to join the Guard formation.

The Rom were done with eating and the trestle tables put away. The dishes were washed. The serving line, with its many left over goodies was left for now.

The Rom started in with music, song and dancing. Wind was dragged into the dancing by Hanar's magic! By listening carefully to the unique nature of the Rom music, and following Hanar's patient lead with magic that did not rule, but rather showed and helped, at first, Wind was soon fitting into the dances. It was far more fun than she expected!

The Sky Dancers were experts on the ground, too. Besides hooves, legs, and bodies, they used their wings to great effect. Both Tia and Midnight were in the midst of the happily dancing Rom.

Wind noticed a small altercation developing among the Guard. She quietly left the dance to go and speak to them.

Greenforest saw her coming and snapped, “Whatever you are, Camp Privacy! Stay out!”

Guard Major Hawkwing overrode his rude guard Sargent, “Be welcome. How can we help you?”

Wind sat and pointed to Sargent Greenforest. “I came about him, actually.” She tapped her ear. “It happens that I have excellent hearing.

“I know that he is upset that Hanar put him down over by the trash bin.”

He interrupted, “She had no right! I am a noble, a baron! I got a right to what I wants from commoners!”

Wind cocked her head and grinned a sideways grin. “Even those commoners serving another noble? Say one who outranks you - - a LOT?”

“Who owns those dratted Rom that I should bend the knee to THEM?”

Wind shrugged, “As I understand it, could be wrong, I am new here, all the Rom EVERYWHERE, are subjects of the Princesses and MARCHHARE and HOOF DANCER, ROYAL DUKE AND DUCHESS of ROM.” She pointed over to where Marchhare was presently engaged in a couples dance with Midnight.

“ROYALTY. And you tried to barge into rites relating to the Rom beliefs in the afterlife and worse, take the place reserved to Shansa Na Kili, deceased as you understand it. They do not see life and death the same way that you do. You showed no trace of respect for the Rom beliefs. Beliefs that are so strong that the PRINCESSES made you a MANUAL relating to them.

“You saw what happened to Wiltin but you don't seem to realize just how close you came to joining him.”

Guard Major Hawkwing interposed, “She is right, Greenforest. The Princesses put your case into the hooves of Hanar Na Kili, the daughter of the horse that they came here to honor.”

He paused to let that sink in. “The same filly who did not even need to look up to put you beside a trash bin twenty meters away, had the final judgment of your case.

“She could have had you removed from the Guard. Was asked specifically about that.”

“WHAT! That filly? Who gave her the right!?”

Hawkwing replied with some relish, “BOTH Princess Celestia and Princess Luna did. Shansa Na Kili was, and according to Rom beliefs still is, her mother.

“Her judgment was that you were rude, but that was likely temporary and that you should be given another chance.”

Sargent Greenforest sat hard. In a plaintive voice he whined, “Don't she realize that I worked my tail off for five years to get this post?”

Wind nodded. “Yes, she does. That is why you got a second chance. I just wanted to make sure that you are properly grateful for it. One word from her and you would have lost this post.”

Wind paused, thinking something over before asking, “I have no experience with the unicorns of this world except for the Rom. I do know of one other Equestria, but it is largely corrupted. Those unicorns, at least most of them, could not support your weight at twenty meters. Is Hanar exceptionally strong?”

Major Hawkwing immediately answered, “All of you, listen up! What has just been breached is Official State Secret. Greenforest, and the rest of you too, what Hanar did, lifting the Sargent in his armor that twenty meters DID NOT HAPPEN, got that?

“The sheer power of Rom unicorns is, and has been in the past, a hole card that has helped to keep this realm safe. If enemies learn of it, we could be in over our withers before we know it.

“They use their power like it is nothing special and for that reason, nobody thinks twice about it. Actually questioning it opens up a whole different kettle of rotten fish.”

The Guards all turned their heads over to look at the happily dancing and singing Rom. One quietly pointed out, “That was a filly did that. Wonder what one of the grown ups could do, right?”

A quiet voice said with absolute authority, “Best not to think of that, Sargent. I have come to collect our wayward friend. We are teaching her to sing our songs and she won't learn them here, with you.”

Celestia smiled down and suggested, “Come, Wind. The singing will help your pronunciation, grammar and vocabulary, besides just being plain old fun. I still remember what it was like for Midnight and I to learn Gyptian.

“Besides, seeing how you dance will inspire us to make new dances and steps. For us, dance is a thing that never stops growing and changing.”

Wind chuckled as she was being led away. In Gyptian she said, “They do not seem to understand anything. They have wealth that all comes from the labor of commoners, yet they seem to have no respect for those commoners that make them wealthy.”

Celestia nodded. “A fair point, Wind. It slightly misses the mark, though. When the whole system is working properly, the nobles are the brains that direct the labor and not only for themselves. The commoners are the hands, muscle and bone, it is true, but without a proper brain, the other parts do not work well.

“They will plant and harvest. They will build homes. They will bicker and withhold work on a dam and waterworks that would benefit all, in the hope that they can benefit from the labor of the others, for example.

“That castle that the noble's grandsire raised by the directed labor of commoners? If there is trouble in the land, that castle and its stores are the refuge for the commoners. It may seem unfairly divided at times but it is a two way street.

Wind said thoughtfully, “Let me guess. The prosperity of this land comes about because you and your sister actually keep a pretty close eye on those nobles?”

Eyes twinkling, Celestia agreed, “We do. We watch the commoners too. And yes, accepting that no system is perfect, we do try to make it as good as we can for all levels of society.”

It was a thoughtful Wind who returned to the songs and dancing of the Rom.

Soon she found herself dancing with old Marchhare. He grinned and pointed out, “Don't worry about the dancing. I have been trying to learn it for around 800 years and I still make a fool of myself, except for couples dances. I finally do pretty well at those. Just do whatever the music inspires you to do. That is all that anyhorse here expects.”

Wind grinned as she saw the truth of his statement. He was doing pretty well at the couples dances, especially when dancing with Hoof Dancer. At the group and singles dances, which he happily charged into, he was, as he himself put it, a happy fool.

She heard a quiet voice at her ear, “Do not be deceived. Marchhare is far better at dance than he lets on.” Wind realized that it was Hoof Dancer who had whispered that bit of knowledge. Still, if Marchhare's dancing was an act, it was a very good one.

Hanar approached her, as they were all taking break from the dance. She had brought along with her one of the Rom's innocent looking double drum sets. Innocent looking because, unlike any drumset of Wind's experience, not only did each drum have a distinct voice, tapping the heads in different parts produced completely different sounding beats. Besides percussive rhythm, these drums could actually provide a tune.

A bit nervous, she asked, “Wind, if you could, would you show me how to do that sort of sway and slide step that you were doing? I can give you the rhythm line on the drums here.”

Wind considered, “Our bones are different, so it may not work out for you, but sure. Happy to oblige.”

The lone beat of the drums had a sensuous tone to them as Wind began letting herself dance in a free form way, being sure to use those sways and slides that Hanar wanted. In moments, she realized that she was not alone. Hanar was dancing opposite her.

Marchhare had very expertly taken over the drums. Celestia was adding the lovely deeper strum and pluck of the large lyre that the Rom called a moro lyre. Rose had added a sweet wailing flute to the developing music.

Hanar was not only managing the new steps, she had added the flourishing of her sashes to the developing dance. Hoof Dancer and Black Lotus joined in. Hoof Dancer's magic pulled Midnight into the dance. Besides the sash work, Hoof Dancer's delicate magic encouraged Midnight to use her huge wings in lifts, fans, partial folds and wraps, all perfectly timed to the impromptu tune. The Sky Dancers, staying on the ground, joined in, forming a “wing chorus” to Midnight's performance.

A quiet voice that she could not identify said, “This is lovely, Wind. Thank you.”

Hanar danced beside her and said, “Mother loves this. Wind, you have given her and all the Rom a new dance.”

Wind replied, “All that I did was do a few steps that were new to you.”

Eyes twinkling with humor, Hanar replied, “That is all that we needed. We are practically born dancing. We will be exploring this novelty for years to come.”

Wind relaxed, smiling, now that she understood. Well, mostly. She was still puzzled by that soft voice that had thanked her for creating the dance. It was not quite like any voice that she had ever heard.

It was not long before the music wound down and the dance came to a stop.

Wind's acute hearing picked up on two conversations, both happening at once. One was in Gyptian, the other in Equestrian.

The one in Equestrian sounded like Greenforest trying to get himself in trouble again!

“What? You are not going to try to stop me?”

“No need, Greenforest. I am quite sure that if you do try to remind the Princesses about propriety and remembering their Place in Society, that they will be extremely clear about YOUR propriety and Place in Society.”

“But look at them! Just acting like commoners!”

“Look more closely. Acting like HAPPY commoners.”

The other conversation was between Celestia and Marchhare.

“Lovely moro lyre, Tia. I do not believe that I have seen that one before.”

“No, I only finished the wood work this last week. I spent over a month trying to match Nore's beautiful grasswood for the sounding box. I think that I did this time. It only took me five hundred years!” she chuckled.

Marchhare joined her. “True. My first wife was not only the first luthier among the Rom, she was the best at many aspects of it. She loves music and dancing so much.”

“Speaking of music, Marchhare, what shall we call this tune and Wind's dance?”

“What about Wind's Wings? Midnight's wing work there was absolutely divine.”

“True. I wish that my sister was not so shy about public performances. She is a wonderful dancer. Still, Wind's Wings needs some proper words. It could make a good road song.”

“It could at that. I will have some of the foals tackle it. Young minds are so creative.”

Tia booped Marchhare's nose as she snorted, “Do you mean that old minds like yours and mine aren't?”

“Their young minds being creative says nothing about whether our older minds are creative. They are not mutual exclusives.”

Wind nodded to herself. Definitely my kind of people.

She strolled over to the feasting leftovers. She was sort of picking through them, looking for something to match her appetite.

In a few minutes, Hanar joined her. Her magic held a small bread bowl filled with seasoned scrambled eggs and topped by melted cheese. Alongside it was a goodly mug of that fine Rom black tea.

“I saw you going for a snack, Wind. I knew that we used up all of your special meat pies so I whipped this up. I hope that it is good.”

Wind took the snack, balancing it all on a plate so that she could manage it with one hand. “It smells terrific. Care to snack with me? I saw you go for seconds on that three berry pie and there is some left.”

“I would love to share snacks, Wind.”

Settling under a nice shady tree, Wind asked, “Just before you told me that your mother loved the new dance, some horse whispered in my ear saying that the dance was lovely and thanking me.” Her brow furrowed as she tried to think clearly. “It was not quite like any whisper that I have ever heard. There was nohorse that I could see there. Do you know who it was?”

Hanar chuckled deep in her throat as she replied, “Our loved dead are always with us. Who did we come here to visit with? It was mother, of course.”

Wind nodded slowly, while chewing a bite of the egg and bread bowl snack that Hanar had fixed her. She washed it down with some of the tea. “I know that you say that, but this really brings it home. Those others that were talking to Shansa were hearing her, just like I did. I begin to see why you are all such happy horses.”

Hanar smiled gently, “I cannot say whether the Lake of Paradise awaits for ponies who believe that death of the body is an end. I have been to the Lakes of ponies who joined us and became horses. They have gone to the Lake. Old Marchhare went to the Lake but came all the way back for us. Even some gryphons who joined us have gone to the Lake.

Wind nibbled some more of the egg in its bread bowl. “I have to admit that I never spent much time wondering about what will happen when I die. Now, I really will have to give it a lot of thought.”

Hanar giggled and booped wind gently on the nose. “This life and its horses and the wonders of the road are enough for me. Rather than spend time worrying about what might come, just live, be happy, and always do your best at whatever you do. That is enough.”

Wind smiled at that. “I will bet that there are times, especially with ponies like that Sargent Greenforest or that pony at the other wayside, this morning, when doing your best is not as easy as it ought to be.”

Hanar's ears laid back. She spoke with as much of a snarl as a horse could make, “We are not SLAVES, to be ordered about! Doing our best includes being FREE horses, and doing whatever it takes to STAY FREE.”

Wind was somewhat taken aback by the sheer ferocity of Hanar's response. “I did not mean to upset you, Hanar.”

Changing mercurially, she replied, “You did not upset me. You have simply touched the core of what it means to be Rom. I know that you saw the tears in the eyes of the Rom when we sang the Shehan Ja Rom. Our ancestors WERE slaves. They were slaves for so many generations that they were proud of serving their masters.

“It took Marchhare's sacrifice to push them into taking their freedom. We are born free, but to stay free, we have to earn our freedom. It can never be a simple gift. We have to wear it and hold it in our hearts and when we do, old Marchhare will present us with this, the sign and symbol of it.” She touched her beautifully tooled and dyed headstall. “The Freedom of the Rom.”

Wind polished off the bread bowl of eggs while she sorted out that. “So that is why some horses here don't have them and some do? What happens if some pony puts one on for a party or a joke? Don't you have trouble with that?”

Her eyes sparkling with humor, Hanar replied, “Not really. Thanks to Tia and Midnight being Rom, it is covered in the kingdom laws. They are permitted if they are made of fabric, not leather, and are worn as part of a costume for a particular event. The penalties can be severe, depending on the individual case.”

She looked up. “Oh, Wind! We are needed. It is time to break camp and get back to the road!”

Sure enough, all of the band was actively cleaning up the last of the dishes mugs and pots. Wind had seen it before but remained impressed as small pots went into larger ones and even trestle boards fitted together to make compact bundles of everything. The last of the feast was gathered together and given to the guards by Midnight herself.

“Add this to your rations but for Sargent Greenforest. For his rudeness to our friend Shansa, trying to take her plate, he gets none.”

“It ain't fair! There was nopony there! That stuff was going to waste!”

Midnight corrected, cold as ice, “NO HORSE, you mean. And you are wrong. Our loved dead are always with us. With behavior like yours, it very clear why yours would avoid YOU.”

Major Hawkwing silenced Greenforest's retort. “SARGENT! Are you TRYING to get removed from the Royal Guard? There is ample cause in your continued insubordination. The only thing keeping you from dismissal is the decision of the the Rom mare, Hanar Na Kili. Keep your peace. Keep your eyes and mind open.”

More compassionately, he went on, “This first exposure to the Rom is where just over half of all Royal Guard candidates wash out. You worked for five years for this position. Follow the Guards Manual and the Manual of Rom Belief and Customs. That is the only way to survive in the Royal Guards.”

By the time that Midnight returned, she found that all the packing was done and the hitches were being laid out. Wind was busy setting up Marchhare's caravan hitch with a second double tree and a single tree in front.

Midnight smiled as she saw it. “Only a few days among us and already you are laying out hitches properly. I love your singing voice, too. And that dance! You have given us so much in such a short time.”

While she was speaking, her soft midnight blue magic, shot through with stars, had picked up her half of the double tree and was expertly securing her harness to it.

Wind complimented, “That is a beautiful harness. The leather work is superb. Is it an heirloom?”

Midnight chuckled, “I hope not. I made this one about fifty years ago. It is possible that I may gift it on to some deserving horse, but not yet. When I do, THEN it will become an heirloom.”

It was only a few more minutes before all of the Rom were hitched up in the caravan and ready to take to the road.

It was Tia who called the starting cadence, “Lean Left! Lean Right! Pull Left! Pull Right! Pull! Pull!” The whole caravan moved forward smoothly onto the road. She called, “Two Green Vines!”

The Rom began to sing the first of the many road songs that helped the kilometers pass under hoof and wheel.

Besides singing along, Wind listened with care. Far more than simple vocabulary and pronunciation was revealed in those songs. The Rom's very attitudes and ways of thinking were revealed as the songs unfolded.

She was fascinated by the fact that, though the Guards did send one pegasus flying ahead to scout for potential threats, they stayed quietly and inconspicuously following behind. The did have their battle kit carried at the ready.

Almost predictably, she could hear Greenforest griping about how they should be marching up in front, to clear the road of undesirables. She smiled to herself as she figuratively patted herself on the back for being able to follow both the Gyptian of the Road Songs and without effort, also follow the Equestrian of the Guards.

The afternoon was passing uneventfully when they came to the Haymarket Royal Road Section Gate. One of the ponies watching the gate made a fuss as his supervisor reached past him and tripped the gate opening mechanism.

He reminded his counterpart, “Rom are always free, Curly Fries. You know that. Trying to get a toll from them is a fool's game. YOU WILL GET CAUGHT. Besides, the Royal Road Police Station is just over there to make sure that you would not get away with it.”

They passed through without incident. Wind giggled as Curly Fries noticed, “They got a detachment of the Royal Guard! Why would the Guard be with these Rom?”

And the laconic answer, “Because, somewhere in one or two of those harnesses there is a Royal Princess or two, going incognito, that's why!”

At the first Wayside of the Haymarket Road Section, they found a blue pony with a gray mane and tail waiting for them. “Evening, there, Marchhare's band, right? I got a bit of problem with my wagon, if you could spare the time to look at it.

“Whether you can or not, I got a bag of dried apricots to contribute to dinner if you are willing to share.”

It was Hanar, in the position of lead for the whole caravan who smiled and replied, “Sure, Waller. We can do that. Is it a bad wheel or something else?”

She turned into the Wayside without hesitation and as she did, informed Wind, “This is Waller Left Leg. He is always polite, though sometimes a bit plain spoken. Nearly always has something to add to the dinner too. We would rather be late to a fair than leave him stranded by the road.”

While they were breaking down the hitches and stowing the parts, Wind saw that Waller was pitching in to help them and no horse had any problem with it.

Soon camp was set up and dinner baking was underway. One stallion, a dapple gray with black mane and tail gave Rose a kiss and stated, “I need the foals for now. They need to learn about repairing pony made things.”

Rose chuckled as she replied, “Take them, then. I know that you will teach them well, husband of mine.”

He turned to Waller and asked, “Shall we look over your caravan? Is it the wheels again, so soon?”

Waller shrugged, “Wish it was. The main load support beam under the box is cracked pretty bad. If I have to have it done in Haymarket, it will set me back at least 70, maybe 80 golden bits. They will have to take the box off and craft a new beam to fit.”

“I see. We will certainly look at it and get you at least a temporary fix. Might possibly be able to do a full repair. Can't say for sure until I see it, OK, Waller?”

The blue pony shrugged. “Got to be. At least I am not in a hurry with this load. Seed grain for next year's planting. On my way to Haymarket. Was going to drop by the Fair too.”

“You know the drill, Waller. The foals all have to watch. It is part of their education.” The dappled stallion let out a sharp whistle.

All over the camp, foals stopped what they were doing and gathered about. The stallion gestured for Wind to join them. “Marchhare has you with the foals for now, Wind. Come and watch, along with them, while we see how we can help Waller.”

As they got close, Wind's eye was taken at once by the rough weathered grain standing up along the boards of Waller's wagon. It had some knots in the wood, too. She quietly absorbed her first lesson about the difference in woodwork between pony and Rom. All of the Rom woodwork was smooth and perfect, with no knots or imperfections of any sort.

The true meaning of a minor swear word that she had been hearing from time to time slowly sank in. She saw at first hand what they meant when they said, “As bad as a pony made wheel,” except that Waller's wheels, while quite differently made from the wheels of the Rom, were sort of mixed. From the hubs out, the spokes and rims were the rough looking work of ponies. The hubs showed the smooth and perfect work of the Rom.

Quietly nudging Hanar, Wind asked in Gyptian, “Why are his hubs so well done but the rest of his wheels so rough?”

Hanar agreed, “We rebuilt his hubs and axles, doing it the pony way, except that we put in sleeve bushings of polished iron on both the axle ends and in the hubs. We did it only a few months ago. I see that he is being careful to properly grease them. If he stays that careful, they should last him for several years.”

Wind nodded her understanding.

The dappled stallion lowered himself carefully and angled his head to get his horn under the wagon. Wind saw his magic brought into play in some fashion.

He eased himself out from under the box and told the foals, “First, each of you examine the big beam running down the center of the caravan. Then tell me what you see.”

It only took a short time because the foals crowded under, three at a time! “How could they have done that? The grain is flat ways! It has to run up and down for any real strength!” “Did you feel the size of that crack? Near a third the length of the beam!” “It has knots near the middle, where they will most weaken it.”

“Right! All of you. Now, it is Wind's turn. I do not know if you have magic to help you spot problems or not, but let me know if you find anything that the others might have missed.”

Nodding, Wind scooted under the failing wagon. She took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the night vision that was her cat's heritage. She reported, “I do not see anything about the beam that the others did not. However, three of the bottom boards of the box show signs of cracking. If you can fix them too, it would be a good idea.”

The stallion smiled his praise as he told the rest, “Did you hear what Wind spotted? Anytime that there is damage to a part of a caravan, always look to see if it has caused other problems too.

“If this problem is not fixed, Waller could lose a lot of his load onto the road.”

One of the colts snorted, “We could have harvested grain from the road, next year after it sprouted!”

The stallion snickered and then, in Equestrian, told Waller, “We can repair the beam. You have three boards of the bottom of the caravan's box that are cracking. We can repair them too, if you want us to.”

Waller nodded slowly. “Do what you think is needful. I trust you to do it right, Myest.”

Myest began ordering the foals, “Shehan, go and bring my pot of the special glue and its brush. Callin, go and bring me my second kit of planks, the centimeter and a half ones. Hanar, bring me two caravan jacks. Sando, go and bring me a lot of the fire wood to use as supports and braces.”

Foals scattered to their errands. From his saddlebag, Myest pulled a large case. Opened, it showed an astonishing array of razor sharp wood working tools, neatly held in lightly oiled leather.

Hanar was one of the first back. She leaned the stout caravan jacks against the side of Waller's wagon. Without being asked, and clearly not showing off, she used her magic to lift the whole side of the wagon, tilting it to a good working angle and setting the jacks.

Young Sando came trotting up, many balks of firewood carried in his magic. Myest began showing him where to set them and how to brace them to hold the work that was to come safely stable.

Wind was watching closely too. This was all new to her. In her adventures, she had used wagons from time to time, but she just harnessed a beast of burden and drove them to where she needed them. She had never had occasion to see how they were made.

Myest began to chop out a substantial part of the beam using a chisel and adze. He cut it away in steps, so that each step had a longish overlap to the beam. The last cut left about a centimeter and a half of the original beam.

Wind sensed that something was off a bit when he announced in Equestrian, “OK, we can just glue this part back together.” The brush slopped busily and he applied clamps across the beam to hold the cracked part together. He ran his hoof over the whole area where the crack had been. Wind noticed that it had become invisible. He released those clamps and cut and fitted a board into the next step out. He repeated what Wind was now certain was a ruse with the glue. When he was done running his hoof over it, the joints were invisible except at the outside edges, where she now deduced, he was leaving signs that the beam was repaired. He repeated the trick several times to finish fixing the beam.

He cut patch boards to fit over the bed cracks that Wind had spotted, using the same ruse about the special glue.

He left those boards solidly braced by balks of firewood and told Waller, “We need to leave it like it is overnight so that the glue can finish setting up. We will let it down in the morning and you can be on your way right after breakfast.”

Wind had noticed an absence of sorts. The Royal Guard were not making a nuisance of themselves. Even Greenforest was being quiet.

The evening devolved into what Wind was coming to accept as a typical Rom evening. Some were playing several sizes of lyre, flutes and those deceptively simple seeming double drums while others were dancing. Wind snickered to herself as she saw that they were working on her slide step in their dances.

Off to one side, Wind saw that Rose and Marchhare had benches set up and were industriously working at crafts. Rose had many sheets of thin wood in a wide variety of colors and grains. She was carefully trimming them and forming them into neat boxes of many sizes and styles. Some had trays with dividers or other set ups inside. Wind was impressed by the sheer speed and skill with which Rose created her boxes.

Respectfully examining one, Wind commented, “I can't see any joint except where the design shows one. I watched you make this one. I did not see you use any glue. How did you do it?”

“Dear Wind, you do know that there are certain things that the Rom keep very secret. How we do our woodwork, our wheels, Ka'chek flour, and Rom black tea are most of them.

We do not share our language or our music to any extent at all. Those we only do if Marchhare allows it. Our music is not really secret, as such. It is just that it works in ways so strange to any pony made music that they cannot do it. If they try to use their ideas of how it should be played, on their instruments, they will always fail. The cows of Trottingham have learned to play our music on our instruments and do it very well.”

She looked over to where Marchhare was assembling his silver jewelry, which included set gems and touches of gold. He looked up from his work, which was being done without a torch or flame of any kind and nodded. “Feel free to answer Wind, Rose. She understands why we keep our secrets. Unless I miss my guess, she may become one of us.”

Rose smiled. “Most ponies, especially unicorns, think that there is only one sort of 'true magic' and that comes from the horn of a unicorn. Surprisingly, even pegassi, whose wings are far too small to fly like a bird and can perch on clouds, which even birds can't, agree with them. They are so ingrained with the idea that the unicorns do the magic, that they can't see the magic that they use all the time. Earth ponies can hold things with their hooves, plant things and they will grow, or build things that will last for generations. But that isn't magic, either, is it? Of course it is.

“Over 800 years ago, while he was rescuing some lost horses that were still in the Sunset Mountains, Marchhare noticed that our earliest ancestors were doing things that seemed to need magic. He discovered that it was coming from the frogs of our hooves. With that magic, we can do a huge number of things. Our woodwork, that you so cleverly spotted was not using the glue that is only there for window dressing is only one thing. It helps the smith to shape and bond the iron or other metals. It helps the weaver to produce perfect cloth.

“All of these things, Wind, stem from this single, and kept secret, form of magic. There is more. Our Ka'chek flour only uses magic a tiny bit in the harvesting and preparing of the ingredients. Rom black tea is from a really common shrub. It just looks like nothing that a sane pony would eat. So, for thousands of years, they haven't. Besides it needs to be properly dried and shredded, which makes it near impossible to identify.”

Wind suddenly snorted. “I was walking beside Hanar and I thought that I saw her magic popping out to the roadside. It was really quick. I wondered what that was about. She was snagging those leaves to make tea out of!”

A soft muzzle placed itself gently on her shoulder. Hanar whispered, “You are so observant that I am glad that you are with us, rather than the ponies. Will you come with me, please? Dinner will be ready soon and I saw some bank sorrel and wild nettles growing back in the woods a bit. They will make a lovely salad for dinner.”

Rose simply wrinkled her nose at them in amusement and went back to producing her amazing little boxes.

They paused near the outfall of the Wayside's boxed spring and gathered a handy bag full of the succulent sorrel growing there like big clovers. Stepping past the tiny outfall stream, they went a bit deeper into the woods. They came to an opening where abundant sun had led to a dense growth of nettles. Hanar used her magic to very selectively harvest a substantial bundle of the plants.

Wind noticed that her harvest in both the sorrel and the nettles was calculated to preserve and expand the stands. Thoughtfully she asked, “Do you water these nettles too?”

“Only if the weather is dry and they show signs of wilting. Doing it this way assures us of a steady supply of fresh salads.”

Back at camp, Tia and Midnight lit up at the sight! “Fresh nettles and sorrel! Salad tonight! Hanar, are you going to set up your retting tank?”

“Of course! Once you have the leaves off, I will start soaking the stems. I will have the fibers ready to spin in only three days!”

Wind asked curiously, “There are fibers in the stems of nettles?”

Hanar nodded enthusiastically as she opened a large locker in her caravan. “Lots of good fibers. We just soak them for three days in this weather.”

She pulled out flat parts and a pair of wheels less than a meter across. She fitted together a narrow cart with a vat for a body. She lined the vat with pine tarred fabric and attached the whole thing to the back of her caravan.

She happily filled the vat with water from the spring. In only moments, Midnight trotted over and plunked in the stems of the nettles. Hanar added weights that would hold them underwater and closed the lid of the traveling tank.

Wind's acute hearing picked up the altercation in the guard's camp. “This is a flat out insult to us nobles! Besides just letting a strange commoner into the camp, they are keeping that . . . that thing as well. Dratted thing is a carnivore! And they keep it! How are we supposed to guard the Princesses if they won't even let us into the camp?”

“You sure that you read the Manual, Greenforest?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“PAGE ONE! The Princesses DO NOT WANT US HERE AT ALL! We were imposed on them by a unanimous vote of the Advisory Council. So far, the Guard has been rescued by the Rom on seven occasions. The Guard have NEVER been the ones to do the rescue. We are here because butt hurt Counts and Dukes were on a control trip.”

Wind was about to take her place in the serving line, along side Midnight when a lone pegasus landed just outside the camp and called, “May I enter? I am bearing the Royal Dispatch Cases.”

Tia looked up from stirring a rich soup and called cheerfully, “Welcome, Baron Sweetlawn! Get Marchhare to open his caravan to store the cases until we can get to them. It was considerate of you to come this late.”

He stepped into the camp and offered, “I know that you treasure your time among your Royal Family of Rom, so I gave you as much of the day as I could.

“Your Grace, Marchhare, would you be so good as to open your caravan for the safe storage of the Kingdom's business?”

While the old donkey opened the door, he invited, “That was a long flight, Sweetlawn. Would you join us for dinner? You may take your place beside me in the line.”

“I would be honored, Your Grace.”

“Please, Sweetlawn, we have been over it before. Here, I am simply Marchhare.”

Midnight, beside Wind, whispered, “Sweetlawn is one of the few really good barons. They are all good at managing their lands and towns or they would be replaced. The ones that are just nice to everypony or horse, like him, are the rare ones.”

Dinner itself was the usual mild madhouse, as hungry horses lined up to snag their favorites. After all were served, Wind and Hanar wound up seated in the shade of a tree nibbling their favorite pastries. Wind's was filled with fish and seasoned to perfection.

All too soon, it was all gone. Tia and Midnight took Marchhare with them and went into the caravan.

Sweetlawn observed, “I wish that the Kingdom could simply run itself and let their Highnesses have free time with the family that they love.”

It was really not all that long before all three emerged from the caravan. They had the cases all neatly resealed. Perhaps worse, they were all three sucking on edible cones filled with finely shaved ice and blatantly colorful sweet syrups.

They handed Sweetlawn one of the cones and suggested, “Here, I seem to remember you liking peach syrup. Cool down before that long hot flight back to Canterlot.”

He did just that.

It was time to settle down. Tomorrow's end would see them to Haymarket fairground a day early, if all went well.

Breakfast went fairly quietly. They all said farewell to Waller and helped him get his wagon in proper order for finishing his haul to Haymarket.

Black Lotus wandered over to see Wind and let her soft blue magic soak into the wounds. As she finished, she suggested, “If you want to try it, Wind, you could try Pulling with the rest of us, today. You seem to be fully healed.”

Wind shrugged, “I would like to try that, if you have a harness that might fit me.”

Black Lotus snickered. “By no coincidence at all, I happen to have spent some time each of the last few nights whipping something up in my sewing room!”

Turning to Hanar she suggested, “Set yourself up a double tree, dear. Let's see if this catter can Pull.”

She trotted off to Marchhare's caravan and returned in only moments. She had both a harness and a set of sashes modified to fit Wind's upright frame. Wind sucked in her breath as she saw the beautiful sashes, woven so that two different colors chased each other and shifted with each slight movement of the fabric. It matched Hanar's beautiful sashes perfectly.

Recovering her breath, Wind shook her head in wonder. “I have never seen any fabric like this except what your mother wove. It is lovely.”

Hanar nodded agreeably, “It is my best weaving. I thought that it would be better used for you than to sell it to some pony at a fair. Black Lotus agreed with me.”

Wind looked carefully at the harness too. It had pulling straps at both hips and shoulders. All the rings and buckles were of stout steel, lovingly finished to a blue color. There was a tooled design like a twisted rope running the length of each strap.

Black Lotus's magic helped Wind to don the sashes first, then the harness. Both she and Hanar had Wind lean into the load while they adjusted things to fit perfectly.

Satisfied, they hitched themselves into their places. Soon Tia's mellow voice called, “Lean right! Lean left! Pull right! Pull left!” The whole caravan eased out onto the road and the day's road songs began.

Wind was surprised at how tricky it really was to match Hanar's seemingly effortless pace. Hanar's light golden magic was helping to guide Wind's stride. The songs were a huge help too.

Hanar, actually easing Wind's power some, commented, “You are much stronger than I thought that you would be, Wind. I expected to be the one to have to hold back. I hope that you have the endurance to keep this up for the rest of the Pull.”

It was not long before they came to Wayside. To Wind's surprise, since it was still early, they pulled in. Wind's ears caught Greenforest grumbling, “Gotta stop in every Wayside to rest the Royal butts, hum!”

She caught Hawkwing's retort, “If so, it will be the first time in my seven years. My money is on checking that catter, Wind and her harness. It is new, so it will likely be stretching some and need adjustment. Bet that they will be looking over Wind, too.”

True to Hawkwing's prediction, it was Black Lotus and Hoof Dancer who came to wind. They had several medicine pots along. Hoof Dancer smiled as she stated, “You are doing very well, Wind! If you keep this up for the rest of the day, we will win quite a pot!”

Black Lotus was going over the harness with a light oil of some kind and making some small adjustments to it. Hoof Dancer was going over Wind, checking for chafing and wear points, which she treated with a lineament. She carefully checked Wind's hand and her feet as well.

Satisfied, they had the foals bring water around to all the horses, who were still in harness. In only a few minutes more, they were back on the road.

As she leaned into the harness, Wind was appreciating the cunning leather work. The harness not only gave her good leverage for Pulling, it also provided her with excellent support and assisted her in maintaining the best posture for the long lasting work of Pulling.

Wind was appreciating something else, too. Not merely the amazingly solid and smooth road underfoot, but the fact that the placement of the trees alongside, though seemingly natural, provided a fine balance of light and shade. She realized that the tone poem about the roads was exactly what this was all about.

Besides the Rom singing, she could hear the song of birds and smell the mix of vegetation alongside the road. Along with the songs, she fell almost into a trance, a meditation, breathing deeply and feeling as if she was one with the caravan and the caravan was one with the road.

She was actually surprised when they turned off into a Wayside to make their lunch.

Hanar nuzzled her back to alertness. “You have done amazingly well, Wind! Are you sore or stiff anywhere? Blisters on your feet, or anything?”

Wind gave an experimental stretch and pronounced, “Not really. I can feel where the harness bore on my shoulders and at my hips but it did a great job of spreading the load. I need to thank Black Lotus for it. She did a great job designing it.”

Wind's hearing picked up something totally unexpected from the guards. “I had my doubts, Hawkwing, Sir. That carnivore pitched right in and worked with the rest of them. I don't think that I could have pulled that load along side that filly. She is strong as a horse, and I mean that exactly.”

“So, Greenforest, you been watching and thinking like I suggested? What have you seen?”

Wind was helping to stow hitch parts as she listened.

“As part of security, I checked that Waller Left Leg's bill of lading after I saw that filly Hanar, the same that put me by the trash bin, lift the wagon up for the jacks. His load was SIX TONNES. She wasn't showing off or anything and not a one even noticed while she held it until the jacks were set. She had to lift at least THREE TONNES and hold it to do that! No pony except maybe Twilight Sparkle could manage that lift. Once I got over my butt hurt about that Waller being let into their camp and given meals, I saw that they did all that for him just because he wasn't rude and had something to offer for the cook pot. I was watching. They did not even charge him for the wood and glue that they used. I looked at that too. That was expensive, tight grain, knot free wood.”

“You are right, Greenforest. Here is something that you have not had time to find out. In seven years, I have never seen them buy any sort of lumber from anypony. It is like they have some magical source for the best woods in all of Equestria.”

Meal fires were lit and goodies baking. Wind was happily working up dough with her one hand. And watching Hanar dance while Tia played a tune for her on her new moro lyre.

Her attention was caught by the guard again. Thoughtfully, Greenforest pointed out, I used to think that the Rom were lazy, just sort of flitted about from fair to fair. This walking with them is opening my eyes. Those caravans, they call them, are heavy, even with those big wheels that they use to help them roll easy.

“Then there is here. They were pulling all morning. It puts all that dancing and music into a new light. I don't doubt that they are having fun. Thing is, they are practicing for their fair acts. That red roan mare is watching those pegassi that she took in. She is making more of those little boxes to sell too. The old donkey, over there, looks like he is working on more jewelry.

“Besides lunch, I see them packing away stacks of those Ka'chek pastries that they make into that big chest.”

Major Hawkwing's voice replied, “You are getting it, Sargent. And get this, so far, the only uncanny thing that we have seen is that Laying of the Stones thing. Most would not see anything too odd about it. But after you have seen it a few times, trust me, there is something strange going on.”

Wind's attention was pulled away by Tia pointing out, “I think that we have enough done, Wind. It is time for us to eat.” She casually took a large pot of the Rom black tea and poured it slowly into a machine that Black Lotus slowly cranked. Finely crushed dark colored ice poured out of a chute and into a collecting tub. Black Lotus's magic scooped up some and filled the bottom of a cone and then topped it with a ball of more tea made into ice.

She offered the first cone of tea ice to Wind. “You have been working so hard for us. Here, enjoy!” Wind did, sucking the cool tea ice and reveling in the sheer pleasure of it.

Following their well established routines, the band had their lunch, cleaned up, and broke out the hitches. They had not been long on the road before Wind fell into that near trance like state, carefully balancing her pull to Hanar's to keep the stress and load even. Not only did She follow, but sang along too. That was part of the whole effect. At the same time that it was heavy, sustained work, it was very peaceful and soothing.

Only a few hours down the road, the whole caravan came to a brief stop while Marchhare showed a pony at a road gate their contract. The gatekeeper made his needful notes and lifted the gaily painted red and white road gate bar. They all entered the access road to the Haymarket fairgrounds.

Wind's ears caught some resentful muttering from the guards. “What did he mean, calling us a clown act?”

That was answered in Hawkwing's voice, “Better than coming out and telling everypony that their Highnesses are here. They wish to stay incognito.”

Wind snickered and shared what she had heard with Hanar, who was seized with a fit of giggles, though she never broke pace.

Wind quickly found that setting up for a fair was very different from the setup at a Wayside.

Their campsite was back behind the rows and spaces laid out for booths or tents. As soon as their hitches were stowed, Hanar opened a different locker beneath the deck of her caravan. Together, they pulled out long parts, poles, ropes, stakes and rolls of a brightly colored but durable looking fabric.

Hanar verified her booth location with old Marchhare, who had their fair contract with its space reserved for the Rom. Together, they moved her things to be handy while they set up the booth. Wind's eye was taken by the light but sturdy panels that made up the sales counter. That was set up first, because some of the basic poles to support the awning were attached to it.

The awning was unrolled and lifted over the ridge pole that spanned above the sales counter and dangling ties secured it. Poles to support it went into rings of rope with metal centers. Ropes strung from the poles to stakes were loosely set while the balance of the fabric sides were attached.

Hanar had Wind hold the corner or side opposite to where she was expertly tensioning the ropes to stabilize and tighten the structure. Unpacking cases in her caravan's snug interior, she trotted out with a folded measuring table and racks.

Her many bolts of fabrics in a wide array of colors and weaves were put out on the racks. They closed the awning front down to close the booth until it was time to begin sales.

Hanar promptly led Wind down the Midway a bit to where Rose was setting up her display of boxes of all sizes. Wind chuckled as she realized that Rose packed smaller boxes into larger boxes and carried them all in a few chests, which were also for sale!

Rose offered, “My setup is under control. Both Myest and the Sky Dancers can use some help.”

Wind went to lend her simple strength to assisting the Sky Dancers, who were struggling a bit with the poles and canvas for a musicians shelter and resting place between their strenuous sets. They already had a roped off area for take off and landing.

Wind spotted the cause of their difficulty at once. She sidled up to the orange unicorn who was watching them with amusement. His horn was lighting up with barely visible green magic, which matched his eyes. Each time that it did, some small thing went wrong for the Sky Dancers.

Her hand laid gently against his neck, under his chin. She flexed her claws out into his flesh. “Stop messing with those foals.”

“Ow! They is just Rom! Peggesis what abandoned being good ponies!”

Wind released his neck, shifting her grip faster than he could dodge. She wrapped his muzzle in her hand, securing her grip with extended claws. She dragged his face around, forcing him to stare into her enraged, narrow vertically slitted eyes. Predator's eyes, so unlike the horizontal pupils of ponies eyes.

Curling her lips away from her fangs, she declared in a flat voice, “I am Rom.”

They were interrupted by Marchhare's familiar bray, “Warrior Wind! There you are! The healers want to know if you remember anything of the battle after the Berserker Rage took you.”

Wind saw Black Lotus behind him give her a wink and slight head toss. Wind paused, still gripping the orange muzzle, she remembered that Marchhare sometimes did demon stomps, as he called them and pretended confusion, “It is all hazy. Something about a minor demon king, wasn't it?”

Agreeably, he asked, “Do you remember losing your sword and arm to the dragon?”

Realizing that, though said to sound like fierce battle, the question was literally true, Wind replied, “I know that I did, but don't remember anything until I woke up in the Healer's house.”

Black Lotus put in, “The healers said to tell you that they never want to try operating on the arm of a catter in a Berserk Rage again! They did say that they will have you a replacement arm ready for fitting in a month or so.”

Marchhare offered, “Do come with us, please, Warrior. Seeing you try some of our vegetables and fruits, we made bold to fix you a nice savory stew of mostly meat and some of our vegetables that you liked.”

Wind followed meekly but absently “forgot” to let go of the orange unicorn's muzzle. Feeling both her claws and the raw strength of her grip, he realized that he had two choices. Follow until she let go or be dragged along like a sack of oats. He followed.

Short of the camp, he suddenly began to struggle in Wind's grip. To no avail. A unicorn of the Royal Road Police, in his midnight blue uniform had him, capped his horn, hobbled him and snapped a lead to the straps holding the horn.

As orange was led off, Black Lotus commented, “You are a quick study, Wind.”

Wind, sitting in some nice shade, was balancing a stew bowl and her tea mug on a tray. “Thanks. You guys are pretty sharp too. You put me in a deadly battle without ever actually saying that I was in one. Why?”

Marchhare tapped his big ears and replied, “There were a lot of ponies watching Chugg mess with the Sky Dancers. I think that a couple might have interfered if it had gone on much longer. Point is, you got there first.

“Everypony there saw your sashes and harness and when you stopped him you declared that you were Rom. We just gave you a backstory that contained no lies, though I admit that the truth was a pretzel!”

Midnight stepped quietly up and gently nuzzled Wind. “That was well done, today. Chugg made trip hole traps in the foal play yard, last year. He was banned from all fairgrounds in Equestria for two years. He will get time on the Royal Roads for this violation.”

Around a mouthful of excellent stew, Wind commented, “You are lucky that nopony or horse was hurt.” Seeing the pain in Midnight's eyes, she added, “How bad was it?”

Hoof Dancer replied, “It was Candy Cane, filly of Blue Mane and Cresset. She broke her right cannon bone. Haymarket's doctor is a good pony but not the best surgeon. He was going to amputate at the break and fit her for a prosthesis.” She shuddered slightly. “Their prosthesis is ALMOST as good as a pony made wheel.”

Wind, having heard the derisive expression, as bad as a pony made wheel, shuddered at the thought.

With permission of her parents, Black Lotus and I took the case. We fused the bone solidly and repaired a torn ligament. She needed a walking cast for a week to help control swelling.”

The voice of a filly responded, “It worked real good too. May I enter your camp, please?”

Hanar, showing just how much attention she was paying, did not even look up as she replied, “Be welcome, Candy Cane.”

She trotted right up and said, “I got to be the one to present this!” She reached into a somewhat bulging saddlebag and pulled out a scroll. “This is the official thanks of the town for fixing my leg and for all the good that you Rom have done for our fairs over the last 800 years. They have offered not only you, but all Rom, the freedom of the town proper.

“I hear that you, Miss Black Lotus, make the best peach pies in Equestria. My mom's orchard is not the biggest but its peaches are the sweetest! I picked these special and dried them myself.” She pulled a substantial bag out of her saddlebag. Black Lotus's magic had it instantly! She went on, “I had to go all the way to Fall River to buy this for you too.” She laid out a smaller tightly sealed pouch.

Black Lotus's versatile magic lifted it to her nose. Her eyebrows rose in pleasure. “Cinnamon! Bless you, Candy Cane.”

She simply disappeared into Marchhare's caravan. Very quickly, smoke came from the small chimney of the caravan.

Hoof Dancer and Rose both offered at once, “Candy Cane, would you invite your family to dine with us this night?”

Practically skipping, she went out to the developing midway and returned with her parents.

They were only barely settled, eagerly watching the meal preparations when Greenforest approached the camp. He stopped at a respectful distance and asked, “Permission to speak to Hanar, Wind, Tia and Midnight?”

She noticed that Tia and Midnight were watching Hanar for their cue. Wind was about to ignore him when Hanar nuzzled her shoulder. “He is not trying to enter the camp as if he owned it. Let's go see what he has to say.”

They all left off their parts of the dinner preparations and stepped over in front of him. Hanar asked mildly, “What is it, Sir Greenforest?”

Scraping the grass with a forehoof, he hung his head in an abashed way. “I have been watching you all and doing a lot of thinking. This is real hard for me to say. I've been in the wrong and acted real foolish and downright improper.

“I think that the worst was when I barged in on your Laying the Stones feast. Trying to get that in perspective was hard. You didn't act like she was dead. It was like a, well, sort of a celebration. Got me to thinking though, how I would feel if anypony barged into any private celebration of my family.” He drew a deep breath. “Got to say, I am sorry for my behavior. I would have deserved being put in the trash.”

Hanar replied softly, “No, Sir Greenforest, you worked had to earn a post that let you guard your Princesses. Until you got that post, you did not even know anything about Rom customs or why they would be important. You had to pass some rigorous testing on the Rom manual. Over thirty percent of Guard candidates wash out before they ever see us. More than half of the remaining ones fail the first time that the Princesses come to be among us.

“You are not trash. You are a good pony, trying his best to understand what is to you a very strange culture.”

He looked up, deeply puzzled. “I was really miffed when I saw you just take in that Waller Left Leg. Took a while to sort out why. I am kinda guessing here. He was friendly to you and had something for the pot, too. Not that many ponies are actually friendly to you. It got him what would have been a really expensive wagon fix.

“That I do know about. My barony is famous for our fine woodwork. The wood that you used would have cost at least forty or fifty gold bits by itself. You gave it to him along with a thorough repair, and never charged him a copper.”

He shook his head in wonder. “I hope that I have never been so wrong about something so important before in my whole life.”

He pointed to Wind and added, “I was so peeved at everything, that I misjudged you, too, Lady Wind Whisper. I called you a carnivore and a thing. Then I finally started to figure out how bad I was wrong about you when I saw you harness up and had to hold back to match the pulling power of a Rom horse.

“I had sort of dismissed the story that you were recovering from attacking a Manticore. Then I overheard the rest of it. Manticore wasn't alone. You were central to fighting off a demon king and lost both arm and sword to a dragon, yet here you are. Means that you and your side won the engagement. Demons, dragons and Manticores don't exactly take prisoners.”

If the Princesses will permit it, “I would lay my sword across between us, to say that if you need my help in battle or out, so long as it does not break my oath to my Princess, I will be by your side.”

It was both Tia and Midnight speaking together, their voices making a gentle harmony, who pronounced, “We, your Princesses, do permit and allow this generous offer from the heart of our good Guardspony.”

Before touching the blade laid in the grass between them, Wind asked, “The Healer told me that I was not permitted weapons like swords, knives or spears yet. What should I do here?”

Midnight quietly sent a tendril of her night and stars magic to envelope Wind. She brought it back and observed thoughtfully, “Black Lotus and Hoof Dancer presently have your case. I wish to share what I have found and get their opinion before you touch the sword.”

Black Lotus and her mother came up quickly. “What is it, Midnight? You are an expert surgeon. Did we miss something?”

“About Wind's physical condition, no. Our good Greenforest has offered Wind his sword. While we do permit it, she has brought up the issue that is keeping her here, though her battle wounds are now healed. Here is what I learned through a Bridge of Dream.”

Her soft magic touched the horns of both mother and daughter. “Our question is simple. Is it safe yet to allow her to pick up the sword and return it to him as ceremony calls for?”

The two held a whispered consultation. Black Lotus nodded, looking serious. “With one condition, it should be safe.

“Wind, will you allow me to place my magic in you ready to put you to sleep instantly, like for your surgery?”

Wind paused quietly for a few moments. “I trust you, certainly. Is it still that close to happening? I have not felt it for a while. I thought it to be dormant.”

Hoof Dancer chuckled, “Dormant like a volcano about to erupt! But yes, it is much better than when you arrived.”

Wind simply replied, “Do it then. I do not want to harm any of you. What is it that I am supposed to do?”

Hanar offered in excitement, “I have read about this in Days Of Fortress Canterlot! You pick up the sword by the handle, rest it on your hand or so that the handle is to him and give his weapon back. When he takes it, say that you will fight by his side if he is beset!”

Tia added, should you try and Black Lotus needs to stop it, we, as Princesses will declare your intent to accept and the ceremony completed.”

Wind felt the familiar safe touch of Black Lotus' magic and smiled. “I think that I can do this.” She bent down and picked up the sword. Shifting her grip, she laid it along her forearm, handle to Greenforest.

As he was taking the grip, she felt the world going gray. She woke up as the sun was setting. Her arm was carefully bandaged to her side. Hanar was resting quietly beside her. She had a plate and full mug of strong tea ready.

Grinning ruefully, she offered, “I guess that I wasn't quite as ready as I thought.”

Hanar asked gently, “Can we safely unbind you now? Do I need to feed you?”

Wind pretended to consider the question carefully. She temporized, “What do Midnight and Black Lotus say?”

Midnight stepped close and let her magic bridge the space between them. She winked quietly at Wind as she replied, “It was a near thing but we stopped it in time. You seem to be as well now as you were before you touched the blade. I shall set you free to enjoy your meal.”

Her magic gently lifted Wind and unwrapped the bandages.

Wind sat up and reached for her plate, gratitude in her voice, “Thanks for saving my dinner and watching over me, Hanar.”

She replied, “I was happy to do it, Wind. If you could wield a sword with the arm that the dragon took, it must have been a marvel of smith craft. In a way, it is lucky that it was that arm. You could have bled to death if it was your flesh arm.”

Wind swallowed a bite of her pastie before saying with sincerity, “It was a marvel. It was even stronger than my good right arm. I did not have to think about using it. It moved as simply as my right. Just reach and do. I heard Marchhare say that I will have it back in around a month.

“This pastie is really good! You put some of those vegetables that I like in it! It is like eating a stew that does not drip!”

Black Lotus wandered over and joined them. “Thank you, Wind. I have been watching how you sampled our vegetable and fruit pies and dishes. We have a nice blackberry pie that I think that you will enjoy.”

Wind looked up, brow furrowed in concentration. “I thought that we did not have any blackberries in our stores.”

She grinned. “We didn't. Sargent Greenforest was appalled when Midnight and I had to put you out like that. We had to reassure him that he had not done anything wrong. He went off to try spearing you a bunny to make up for it.

No bunnies, but he found a fine wild canebrake full of blackberries, just ripe! We all descended on it like a horde of locusts! We gave two of the pies to the Guard.”

Wind nearly choked on her tea with giggles at the thought.

Just then, a pegasus in noble livery landed outside the camp and started to just walk in, announcing in a loud and disapproving voice, “If their Highnesses are done playing about for the day, I have the Kingdom's business. I see that there is some food on that serving table. Bring me a goodly portion of scrambled clover tops and some pie!”

Midnight blocked his way and snarled, “What part of INCOGNITO is unclear to you, BARON FLAPPERJAW?”

Not comprehending who he was facing, he snapped, “My name is Baron Widefield! Get me the Princesses, you peasant! My dinner too!”

Wind turned to Hanar to comment, “This should be fun to watch! Should we stand further back?”

Midnight simply raised her huge wings free of her Rom sashes. In a mild voice she replied, “This peasant, known to you as PRINCESS LUNA, will not get you food of any sort. You will yield to me the Dispatch Cases and remove yourself from this encampment of OUR ROYAL FAMILY and await our pleasure.

“If you desire anything, there are two booths that have opened to sell dinners to ponies setting up for the fair. BUY your food and do not try to claim ANY privilege of rank. That is forbidden at all fairs by Crowns Law.”

While Widefield was trying to grasp the magnitude of his gaffe, Midnight's magic took the Dispatch Cases and turned her back to him. She flipped her tail as if swatting at a fly.

As the chastened pegasus left, Wind snickered, “That's another baron who has assured that his heirs will ascend to a Baronial throne. He certainly won't rise to a County if one comes Vacant.”

Midnight, tucking her wings back into her sashes, and out of sight, grinned now that she could not be seen by Widefield. She snorted, “You have stumbled onto one of our secrets for selecting the best ponies for advancement. We let them be themselves in ways that we can see before they know their true selves to be revealed to us. Of those that show true courtesy, we choose the best administrators.”

She shrugged, “We are sort of stuck with inheritance of titles in family lines. Most learn to be decent sorts by the example of their parents. Of course, there will always be some few who simply will not behave.”

Hanar gave Wind a large slice of the pie. Wind gave her a sideways look.

She bobbed her horn in amusement as she explained, “If you are lucky and like the pie, you get a large portion. If I am lucky, you won't like it and I will get a large portion!”

Wind smiled back as she extended one of her big claws. She carefully, in several passes, cut the thick pie into two equal portions. “If WE are lucky, Hanar, we can share the pie together.”

Hanar settled quietly and nibbled her pie. She had a thoughtful tone as she suggested, “Wind, your home must be a place very different from here. Could you tell me of it?”

Wind downed her tea to wash down the last of her excellent blackberry pie.

“In most ways, it looks a lot like this one. We have mostly small villages rather than cities and towns like you do. Most of our peoples are upright on two legs, like me. We do have several different kinds. I am a mixed breed of cat and otter, myself.

“We do not have ponies there, that I know of, nor your wonderful roads. The whole place is mostly wilderness with villages and a scattering of castles, religious retreats, abbeys, monasteries or and the like places.

“Of course, there are also monsters of various sorts.

“The real, fundamental difference is how the world is run. There is Mama Dragon who is called the Watcher of the World. Mostly, she doesn't need to do a whole lot but when she does, things can get really strange. Besides her, there are some supernatural and extremely powerful Spirits. They really mess with us. Most folks of whatever kind, will never have to deal with them. Those that catch their eye can be put into a living hell or wind up with huge rewards, if they manage to accomplish what the Spirits want.”

Hanar nodded before offering, “I think that I like it here. I have been wondering something, though. When you first came to us, you already spoke a clear Equestrian. Who taught you that, or have you adventured on our world some other place?”

Wind considered that carefully. “Hanar, you seem to understand the idea of many worlds or dimensions lying close together, almost like pages in a book. Am I right?”

She smiled and chuckled around her last bite of pie before answering, “Of course. I have been raised in the band of Marchhare all of my life. You really can't be here for too long without learning about that.”

Wind nodded. “There is another Equestria, not far from here, as travel between dimensions goes. It is largely corrupted, having fallen to Discord and it has much trouble with invasions of deadite demons. I learned Equestrian from a couple of ponies from there.”

“I see, Wind. Were they nice ponies. Were there any Rom?”

Wind paused to think. “I don't think that there were any Rom. The ponies that I knew were pretty nice, but strong. Ready to do battle at a moment's notice. Pen and Snow were devoted to each other.

Pen was an Earth pony who had figured out all sorts of weapons. Deadites and other demons were drawn to him like iron to a lodestone. He was tied up with some sort of destiny thing that I don't really understand. Something about a Book.

Snow was a Pegasus with more magic than most unicorns. Most of it, as you would expect, was weather magic but that wasn't all. In some way or another, she was also tied up with their Discord and their Alicorn Murder.”

Wind shook her head admiringly, “Pen had a sort of sister named Penny. She is really something! Her fur is brown and her mane and tail are nearly black. Strong. She does great smith work. I, I don't know, she and I get along. It sounds silly, maybe, because she is way bigger than I am.”

Hanar's head drooped a little as she asked, “Will you come back here, to Marchhare's band, after you are healed and you leave us?”

Wind reached over and stroked Hanar gently. “Of course I will. Along with my arm, I lost the only family that I ever knew when I was seven. Mama Dragon is really wonderful and she cares deeply for me but she isn't the same as a family. You all are.

“Sure, I will adventure and do such good as I can, but I will not forget or abandon either you or Mama Dragon.”

Just then music struck up. Hanar perked up and neighed, “Race you to the dancing green!” Her magic picked up the used plates and mugs! They both set out for the evening dancing but the plates and mugs sailed unerringly to the sudsy water in the wash tub to soak!

Wind admired Hanar's skill at hitting targets that she was not even looking at! They hit the dancing area almost simultaneously.

The dancing had barely begun, with most of the dancers working on their new slides and sways, seeing how they could fit them into assorted traditional dances, when the music slid to a discordant stop!

Both Tia and Midnight were glaring at Baron Widefield in a towering rage! “What is the meaning of this intrusion into our Royal Encampment, Baron?”

Cringing slightly, he held forth several documents. “Your Highnesses have made a grievous error in the important matter of Bittern Woods. You have failed to sign the annexation or the assignment Royal Roads benefices.”

In tones that would have flash frozen a glacier, Tia demanded, “And how, Baron Widefield, do you know that those documents were not signed?”

He drew himself up and replied, “I surely have a right! Those documents bear directly upon my Barony! You need only sign them and I will return the cases to Canterlot!”

Midnight spoke in a deadly soft voice, “Bearing on your barony or not, THOSE CASES WERE SEALED. Their business was dealt with and ready to be announced at the appropriate Royal Court. HOW DID YOU GET THESE DOCUMENTS?”

She lifted her head and called, “Guard Major Hawkwing! Please bring three of your Flight here before Us! Take formal custody of Baron Widefield at this time.”

The Major and three of his unit came, carrying manacles and wingbinding straps. The protesting Baron was quickly and efficiently bound.

Tia nodded slowly before requesting, “Major, We, your Princesses, need you to be a formal witness. You will be examining things that are above your Royal Security Clearance. This is authorized on Our joint authority.

We need your uncontaminated witness statements to the things that you observe. Do you understand?”

“I do, your Highness. What do you wish me to observe?”

“Please examine the Royal Dispatch Cases. Report to Us both what you directly observe. You may be asked to provide further evidence, based on those observations.”

“I see.” He began a careful examination of each of the cases. Looking up, he reported, “You Highnesses, of the nine cases, three show signs of being forcibly unsealed. Those cases are the Royal Intelligence Service case, the Royal Chancery case and the Royal Treasury case.”

Midnight looked askance at the Baron and required of Major Hawkwing, “This is beyond your RIS security clearance but is ordered by Princess Luna. Open the RIS case. In the lid you will find a list of document numbers. From the top down, the numbered documents in the case should be in the order on the list. For now, examine only the document numbers and their order.”

He opened the case after looking closely at the seal. He extracted the list and began to compare it to the documents. Looking up, he reported, “GR-3174 and PR-9077 are at the top of the stack. According to the list, they should be fourth and tenth respectively.”

“Very good, Major. Leaving all as you found it, return the list and close the case. Then please check the Royal Chancery case.”

He repeated his careful examination and opening of the case. “There is no document list in the lid pocket. If the documents are intended to be in sequential numerical order, number seven is missing.”

“Very well done, Major. Now please check the Treasury case.”

After his usual careful scrutiny of the case's exterior and seal he opened it. “Your Highnesses, there are five sections to this case. There are only four document lists. As the sections are labeled, and the remaining lists have matching labels, I would venture that the list for Royal Roads is missing. I noticed that each document in each section is sequential on the last two digits. Based on that, document RR 304-A113 is missing.”

Midnight smiled. “Thank you, Major Hawkwing. We shall shortly have a witness statement drawn up for you to examine. If it is fully accurate and only if it is fully correct, please sign it. If we have made any error, please point it out and we will fix it to your satisfaction.”

He bowed, “What of the missing documents?”

Luna smiled, “You will provide a copy of your witness statement to the Royal Road Police along with the prisoner. They will conduct that search and include their findings and evidence to be sent to the Royal Department of Prosecution for the Baron's public trial.

“None of you need miss the fun of the fair. The RRP have their temporary fairground station already set up. Let them handle it.”

The Major chuckled and told his ponies, “You heard the Princesses. As soon as we have that statement signed, we can be done with this pompous pony! And we have leave to play! We will be on duty so keep an ear out for any calls for service.”

Wind was leaning on Hanar, laughing. “Oh my! He not only broke into Royal business, he had the nerve to call their attention to it! I did not think that ANY pony could be that stupid! How did he manage to actually stand up? I mean, that takes coordinating FOUR legs! Does he have that much brainpower?”

Hanar replied, “I really don't know but I hope that Tia and Midnight can get back to their music soon. I want to dance some more!”

They did return soon. Marchhare was with them and they were all three laughing.

Wind overheard him say, “At least he did not open the cases, try to do all the work and present you both with all the business ready to sign!”

Midnight chuckled, “That was only two centuries ago! The Baron Thurwood incident!”

Tia added, “Right. Remember Thurwood's defense? Mere mares obviously could not handle Vital Affairs of State!”

They settled down and began to play again.

With the fair beginning the next morning, they called a stop early.

After a good breakfast, Hanar invited Wind to help her in her booth, selling her fabrics. She entreated, “I know that you promised to help watch over the Sky Dancers, Wind. I set my booth so that you can see their crowds. I could really use the help.”

Wind was able to watch the crowds that came and went as the Sky Dancers did their first two sets. She kept hearing ponies commenting on her unusual appearance and supposed prowess. “I think that they made up that story. I mean, look at it. Only one foreleg and it stand up on its hind legs. How strong or fast could it be?”

She was laying out one of Hanar's satins on the measuring table when she noticed the near transparent glow of a unicorn trying to keep his magic stealthy! Her leap out of the booth passed over one of the ponies disparaging her abilities! She hit at a flat out run for the stallion, dodging or leaping over any pony in her way!

She jumped to his back and grabbed his horn, claws out! She raked down to his forelock and lunged for his muzzle! She grabbed and pulled his head about!

He collapsed under her, landing on his side, kicking feebly! Wind jumped free as he fell and yelled, “Medic!”

Black Lotus came charging out of the dancing pavilion that she shared with her mother! She had her field medical case carried in her magic. To the surprise of the onlookers, she skidded to a stop and took Wind into her magic!

In tones both desperate and worried, she called, “Warrior! Are you safe? Is the Rage under control?”

Wind, actually shaking from fear that she had seriously injured the pony, replied, “I am OK. It is under control for now. See to the pony.”

Black Lotus set her down and let her magic suffuse into the neck of the fallen unicorn. In a relieved tone, she said, “Just a sprain that is putting some pressure on his spinal cord. I have pushed the bones back into position. Could you please pull gently on his head? There, that is just right. The pressure is off entirely now.”

At that point, a blue uniformed Royal Road Police pony came cantering up. He obviously recognized Black Lotus because he asked her, “What has happened here, Mam?”

She gestured at the fallen unicorn. “You heard about the double murder of the Sky Dancers, last fall? This fellow just tried to murder their children on the morning of their first public performance. He was watching them and trying to gather stealth magic.

“Warrior Wind was helping in the fabric booth of Hanar Na Kili when she saw it happening. She ran through the crowd and jumped to his back. She raked his horn badly enough that he will need magical pathway surgery to be able to use magic again. She pulled his head around and he collapsed.

“His neck got a fairly bad sprain that temporarily paralyzed him. Between Warrior Wind's help and my magic the sprain has been fixed. He should regain mobility in about a half hour to an hour.”

The Royal Road Policepony turned to Wind. “You got from over there to here in time to stop him? Impressive. If you had already raked his horn, why did you twist his head?”

Wind shrugged. “I am not from a place where there are any unicorns. I never had to disable one before. I did not know for sure that his magic was disabled, so I turned his head, trying to spoil his aim.”

The RRP cop was adding to his notes. “I see. In the excitement, you pulled hard enough to sprain his neck?”

Wind shrugged diffidently, “I was just trying to shift his aim, so I didn't try to pull hard.”

Black Lotus interjected, “She does not look it, but when Wind was allowed her harness for Pulling, after the physical battle wounds were healed, she proved to be stronger than any horse of our band.”

“I get it. Spraining his neck WAS a gentle pull. Let's get this jerk to the RRP tent and forwarded to the jail.”

#WIND MEETS THE ROM #MLP Fan Fiction #Written by De Writer #Will not be posted to Index until finished.

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ask-de-writer · 5 years ago

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WIND MEETS THE ROM : MLP Fan Fiction : A Work In Progress

As usual for works in progress, new parts and changes to older ones are done in Boldface type.

Wind Meets the Rom

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

22172 words