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Adult Content Warning - this material may contain adult themes, including general sexual activity, non-consensual bondage/slavery and forced sexual acts. If you are under the lawful age for such materials (18 in most jurisdictions) or if you would find such material offensive, please go elsewhere.
Safety Warning. This story may contain descriptions of practices that are decidedly unsafe, either in general, or if performed by someone without adequate training. There are a number of good books available on safety in the BDSM scene. Most large cities, and some not so large ones, have organized BDSM groups that will usually welcome a newcomer. I’m not going to point out which practices are safe, and which aren’t. Any practice is unsafe if performed by someone with inadequate training and experience, or if performed when not paying attention. Please think before you act. Don’t make yourself a candidate for a Darwin award.
Now on to the story...
Chapter 5. Introduction to the Goddess of Two Legged Ponies
Chapter 7. Tenderizing Black Star
Sir Jeff came across this wonderful picture by the Marquise dePaniquiz. He thought it needed a story, and asked me if I’d like to do one. It’s a great picture, and absolutely cries out for a pirate story. Some day I may finish “Ponygirl of St. Mary’s Island”, but until then, all I can do is hoist a tankard of rum to those days spent many lifetimes ago with the crew of the Bachelor’s Delight, making life difficult for the East India Company. Hopefully Daniel Defoe has learned not to lie so much. He’s had several lifetimes to consider the issue.
This is a very different story. I hope you like it.
I expected the worst as I strode into King Abronix’s throne room with two of his guards trailing me. The guards had been ordered to drag me in; they agreed to escort me in return for staying unpunctured and otherwise in good health.
My sister Deborah was already there, standing cool and collected with two more guards standing at attention behind her. I expect her proficiency in the torturer’s art, as well as her reputation for minor sorcery, had persuaded the guards to escort her in the style to which she was accustomed.
The Duke of Pozron’s offspring, Lord Paul and Lady Sarah, had not been so fortunate. Their guards held them firmly upright, giving them no least opportunity to cause a disturbance. Paul, at least, was taking it easy, Sarah was still struggling. Her guard had his mailed hand clamped over her mouth, and her arm twisted behind her back.
At first glance, the chamber lived up to its reputation. An incredibly detailed statue of the last king of the old dynasty, shown in full armor, crouched on hands and knees on the highest platform. Just below, another incredibly lifelike statue of the former queen lay on the floor, arms and legs gathered under her like a resting cat. Statues of the former crown prince and princess knelt behind the statue of the king. No artist had ever accepted credit for what had to have been the pinnacle of his or her life’s work. Rumors about the matter were better left unspread.
The seneschal tapped his staff on the floor. Silence promptly fell, and everyone turned to face the throne. King Abronix and Queen Pugimax entered from the back doorway, and took their places, side by side on the back of the fallen king’s statue. Her current pet came in on all fours and sat next to her, cat fashion. She would have been about 5’4” if she had been able to stand, which, of course, she couldn’t. She lifted a hand, licked the back, and proceeded to rub one of her ears. The queen leaned back, resting on the former crown princess, and propped her feet on her predecessor’s rump.
The King nodded to the seneschal. He cleared his throat. “We have received word from the Duke of Balizon in response to His August Majesty’s well considered and incredibly mild response to his latest carping complaints.” This didn’t sound good. “He returned His August Majesty’s messenger neatly sectioned into his component parts.” Oops.
“I thought,” the Queen said, “it was a nice touch having the severed head enchanted to deliver the defiance when the body parts rolled out of the bag.”
“Quite so,” the King agreed. “There will be a meeting of the war staff this afternoon to consider the details incident on delivering Our Displeasure.”
“Which leaves us with one loose end,” the Queen added. “What to do about the hostages our two perfidious Dukes left behind.”
The Queen smiled at us. I blanched.
“We will deal with Lady Sarah first.” She turned slightly to speak directly to Sarah. “You have been a guest in our castle. We do not take kindly to guests abusing the help and slandering Our officials. It’s hard enough retaining competent help without inciting them to give notice.” The imperious voice paused. “Considering what We do with the requestor,” she added in a quieter voice, “asking has to demonstrate a new low point in morale.
“We have devised a suitable punishment. You may, or may not, be grateful that you will remain alive to experience it.” She nodded slightly to the guards that held Sarah. One of them removed his mailed hand from her mouth.
“Bitch!” Sarah snarled.
“Why, however did you know?” The Queen made a forceful and arcane guesture. The guards released Sarah, who fell to the floor in a dead faint.
“Take her to the kennels.” Two kennel attendants, garbed in sober brown, came up and stripped off her gown to the sound of ripping cloth. One put a collar around her neck. The other revived her with a slash of a short whip. She gathered herself onto her hands and knees, and followed her leash out of the chamber.
“Lord Paul,” she said. “You seem to have made a career out of being useless for anything whatever. I certainly can’t think of any reason to keep feeding you. You will be executed.” He sagged in his guards’ arms. “Spineless to the last, I see.”
She switched her attention to my sister Deborah. “I believe you are up for your torturer’s final examination?”
“If it please your Majesty, I believe so.”
“Oh, it pleases Us. You may have Lord Paul for your practicum.” Paul fainted in his guards’ arms as a stream of yellow liquid dripped down from his kilt, making a pool on the floor. The Queen laughed delightedly. “Paul certainly lives down to my expectations.”
She looked back at Deborah. “Take as long as you want. When you’re done with him, throw what’s left out with the garbage, and report to the stables. You will join my ponygirls.”
My sister? A ponygirl? My sword came up out of my scabbard as I lunged toward the Queen in a red haze. The world exploded in pain. I barely heard her clap her hands and laugh delightedly as I fell into the blackness.
When I came to, I seemed to be lying on a hard surface. I opened my eyes, or at least, I tried to. My left eye opened. There seemed to be something wrong with my right eye.
The light showed a small room, with wooden walls, a door, a window and a mirror. I swung my legs over the edge of the platform, and got to my feet. They must have had a cleric work on me; I seemed to be healthy.
I froze at the look of my face in the mirror. An empty socket stared out where my right eye should be. The top of my head was a mass of scar tissue. My mouth seemed to be fixed in a permanent snarl of anger, even though I wasn’t feeling quite that furious at the moment.
A small cabinet near the door yielded some clothes and an eye patch. I wrapped my head in a bandana and looped the patch over it. Well, at least the maidens wouldn’t faint before they had a chance to run screaming.
My sword and dagger hung from one of the walls. There was a small writing table in a corner, with pen, ink and foolscap in the drawer. The window seemed to be wide enough to climb out of, and it was completely unadorned with bars, or anything else to prevent the enterprise. I leaned out and studied the scene. My room seemed to be three stories above the two-legged ponies’ yard. I spied a pair of fillies with their reins hitched to a rail, and two stallions hitched to what looked to be a garbage cart. People walked back and forth purposefully.
“Well, that pose would certainly give some people ideas.” The light alto voice carried some amusement. I tried to stand up, turn around, and back out of the window. It worked about as well as any attempt to do three things at once. THUD! OWWW! My head hurt.
“Unfortunately, I lack the necessary equipment,” she said. “I could fetch some, if you’re interested?” She sounded slightly hopeful.
As far as I could tell, she didn’t lack any necessary equipment. She was about 5’6”, chestnut hair, and dressed in a sleeveless jersey that came down to her waist as if the lines had been drawn with a ruler. The black leather belt that cinched her waist held up a tightly fitting black leather skirt that came down to mid thigh. A pair of solid looking black leather work-boots encased her feet and came half way up her calves. Her only other adornment was an amused smile. Suddenly, my pants felt a good deal tighter than they had when I put them on.
“By the way, I’m Dina,” she said. “I’m the stable master’s assistant and chief trainer. You’re David, or at least, what’s left of him after our Queen got done with you.”
“What’s left of me? There’s something else missing besides my right eye?”
“And your good looks? Not that I know of. You’ve just been reduced from Duke’s heir to ponygirl trainer and groom, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
I must have looked confused. “Oh, what’s keeping me here?”
“Our Queen is a very subtle sorceress. You know your father put you under a Gods-spell to insure that you protect your sister?”
My remaining eyebrow went up. “No, I didn’t.”
“Well, the Queen found that out. She’s not about to mess with a Gods-spell, so you’ve still got it. That’s why you’ve still got your weapons. Use them for anything, let’s say, inappropriate, and your sister gets hurt.
“Your father also put your sister under a Gods-spell. Some of the clauses are certainly amusing. My Lady added an enchantment so that she won’t accept anyone but you taking care of her. Any other trainer or groom will find her unmanageable. Then you’d have to protect her when they tried to tame her down.”
I felt like uttering an expletive not suited to my station. Right. What station. “Oh, shit. It sounds like she’s got me well and truly stuck.”
“She certainly does,” Dina sounded even more amused. “If there’s nothing else puzzling you, come along, and I’ll show you the stables.”
“Well, there are a couple of things. Why the writing desk?”
“You know how to read and write. That’s unusual in a Duke’s son, and you know how likely it is for anyone working here. We can use a scribe occasionally.” Right. Remind me again not to underestimate the help.
“I couldn’t help wondering. Your garb is certainly unusual.”
“I thought you noticed.” She grinned and squeezed me where it counted. “It’s traditional for women working in these stables. It certainly keeps the men away from the scullery maids.”
“Traditional?”
“So my grandmother says. When Queen Malfix established our breed of ponies, she declared that the uniform was traditional. How you can have something traditional when you’re starting something new escapes me, but that’s what granny says.”
“Uh, right.” I thought more than that was escaping me.
“Well, if that’s all, let’s go see the stables.”
Dina swung the door shut as we left the room. It really did seem to be my room; it had a sign on the door that said “Davy One-Eye.” Most of the doors had men’s names. Some had women’s names, and some had numbers.
The end of the corridor had a wooden ladder going through a hole in the floor. The next floor had bins of roots, vegetables, bales of straw. The bottom of the ladder landed us at the end of a row of wooden stalls. The stalls were about seven feet deep, three feet wide, and four and a half feet high, with the walls and ends built out of inch thick planks. She opened up an empty one for me to look at.
The floor had a thick mat of straw, except for a shallow trough running the length of the row, just before the door. The other end had a bin, about two feet off the ground that held some roots and vegetables. There was also a water bowl. The wall had hinges above the bin and bowl; it looked like they would open outward. We left, and I looked at the door curiously. The latch was a simple dead bolt with a ring on the end. It moved easily when I tried it. Closed, the ring lined up with another ring set into the door itself. I looked down the line, and saw two doors that had locks on them.
The other side of the corridor had tack hanging from the walls.
“It’s time to exercise Trots Well,” she said. “Let’s see how you do getting her set up.”
“How do I do that?”
“We start out by finding her.” She smiled to soften the obvious. Trots Well turned out to be in one of the two locked stalls. I looked over the door, and saw a cute naked brunette curled up on the straw, sleeping. Dina reached in and rapped on the inside of the door. Her eyes flew open; she rolled over and sprang up.
“Dina! I want to be exercised now.”
My remaining eyebrow tried to go up. All it accomplished was to pull at the scar tissue, but it made the attempt. “She talks?”
“When she has something to say. Usually, she doesn’t.”
She smiled and then whinnied at Dina. “Who’s the new guy?”
“He’s a new groom, Davy One-eye.”
“Hello, Davy. Will you exercise me?”
“That’s next on the agenda,” I told her. She looked confused. “Will you exercise me?”
“We’ll exercise you now,” Dina told her.
“Good.” She brought her head up a bit.
“First, you put the halter on her,” Dina told me.
I found it on the opposite wall. It was a network of ropes. I looked at it. “Goes over her head like this, right?” I slipped it over her head, and then studied the hitch under her chin. After a moment, it became obvious. One rope came down from the ring next to her mouth, went through the throat ring, went around the back of her neck, and then came through the throat ring again to become the lead. Another rope came down from the ring on the other side of her mouth and attached to the throat ring. There was another ring that twisted to secure the ropes so they wouldn’t move. I snugged it up and twisted.
Dina pointed at a ring hanging from the pillar between the cells. I tossed the rope through the ring and secured it with a hitch. The rest of the halter was classically simple. A rope went up over her head from the knots on each side of her mouth. Another rope circled her head and was knotted in place. It wasn’t a real working bridle, but for taking her from one place to another, it was adequate.
“Now, we’ve got to cuff her hands behind her.”
“Cuffs bad. I don’t want cuffs.”
“Will you keep your hands away from your bridle?”
“Yes.” She got a real shifty-eyed look.
“I don’t believe you.” I found the cuffs. Dina unlocked the door to her stall.
“Hands behind you right now.” Dina wasn’t allowing any doubt.
“No cuffs,” Trots Well whined.
Swish! Thwap! OOOWWWW! Trots Well brought her hands back to cover her ass. I caught them and buckled the cuffs. They were two circles of soft leather joined by a short chain. Each of the cuffs closed with a snap, and then secured with a roller buckle.
I frowned at them. “I could get out of these…” I said.
“She can’t. It’s way beyond her capabilities,” Dina said. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, you can lock them on.” I looked at the wall. There were two small padlocks. Snick. Snick. Where to put the keys? The cuffs had a place to hang them. Clever. I put the keys on the cuffs.
“Belt next,” Dina told me. I found the belt on the wall. It was a solid leather strap, about three inches wide, and curved to fit over her hips and under her ribs. After a moment’s study, I put it around her and pulled it tight. She sucked in her belly without me telling her. Clearly, she didn’t have the same argument with the belt she had with the cuffs.
“Let’s go.” Dina led the way down the corridor. The thwap, thwap of solidly built up callous kept pace as Trots Well followed her halter rope.
We left the yard and came to a round tower. Dina opened the door and led us inside. The center of the tower was a vertical shaft with eight wooden spokes radiating outward. Several of the spokes had a pony pulling them, harnessed by his or her belt. The drummer slowed down and stopped, the ponies stopping at the same time. I led her to a free spoke and attached the chains to her waistband. Then I looped the halter rope over the spoke and walked away. The drummer began his eternal thump, thump as the ponies leaned into their waistbands and began moving the windlass around and around.
“What,” I asked, “is that?”
“Water,” Dina answered.
“Water?”
“Yes. They go round and round, and the water moves from the well to the cistern on top of the tower. Then it goes all over the place like the kitchens and the baths.”
I stopped. “Magic?”
She laughed. “One of the artisans tried to explain it to me once. According to him, it’s not magic. I didn’t understand it, but if he has to fix it when it breaks, it’s not magic.”
“Oh?”
“You ought to know that about artisans. Most of them wouldn’t know magic if it came up and bit them in the ass.”
“Oh, right.” I looked back at the tower. Why didn’t we have that at the Ducal fort? If it wasn’t magic? Well, think about it later. I had more immediate things to deal with.
“Well, Duke’s son, now that you’ve dealt with one of our ponies, what do you think of her?”
“She’s not very bright,” I said, kind of tentatively.
“Actually, she’s one of the brightest ones in the stable.”
“But…” I sputtered.
“It takes some getting used to.” She dug in her pouch and took out a chain with a ruby centered in it. “Here, put this around your neck. It will help.”
“Take as long as you want. When you’re done with him, throw what’s left out with the garbage, and report to the stables. You will join my ponygirls.” I stared at her in horror. My brother’s scream of rage cut through my consciousness. I saw him dash for the throne, drawing his sword. Halfway there, he burst into flames. He fell and slid to a halt, head smoking. His sword skidded all the way to the platform and buried its point in the gilded wood of the base.
I came back to awareness, the Queen’s mocking laugh ringing in my ears.
“Well, my dear, your test begins at three hours past noon tomorrow. We have too much to do today preparing to obliterate your family from the face of the earth.” She waved her hand languidly in dismissal. As I backed out of the throne room, I saw the Princess looking me over, a speculative look on her face. I could still see the Queen smiling over my brother, lying there smoldering on the floor, as I turned and made my way to my apartments.
My idiot of a father had acted too soon. Well, I had no data; he may have been exactly right. I had to prepare myself to finish the job; this unholy family must not be allowed to continue its depredations.
I visited the dungeons, and made certain that the captain knew that Paul was to be in excellent condition for his torture on the morrow; the Queen would expect to be entertained, and having him expire before schedule was no part of the plan for keeping her happy.
I fasted, and then made my way to the chapel of Our Lady of Ultimate Reality. I pondered the inscription on the otherwise featureless tablet where a more normal religion would have had a statue. Not even the initiates know what the words in the forgotten language mean. It’s rumored that the Order of the Servants of the Game knows, but they won’t answer a second question if you haven’t understood their answer to the first one. I’d rather not waste what might be my only question on inessentials. I arranged myself in the prescribed manner, and entered a meditative trance. Consciousness slipped away.
I came to just as the bells announced breakfast. Many things that had puzzled me were now clear. I knew what I had to do, and I knew that I would do it, whatever the cost. There was no longer room for doubt in my heart.
I broke my fast and went to the dungeon. I arranged for Paul to be delivered to the ready cage in the torture chamber, and then I began the preparations for the test. The equipment must be in perfect working order, the irons hot, the surprise inducements ready on command. Finally, the time came. My teacher entered the chamber, followed by the judges and last, the Queen.
I extracted Paul from the swinging cage where he had spent hours watching me prepare while being unable to stand, sit or lie down. By now, he was appropriately tenderized. I put him on the suspension rack, attached the chains to his wrists and ankles and waist, and turned the crank to the exact point where his joints had maximum pain without dislocating them. A little less light, and the chains would vanish into the gloom, leaving only a pain-wracked body floating, stretched out in the air, head hanging back.
The judges asked their questions about the theory and practice of torture. I made the correct answers to the background of my test subject’s whimpers of agony. Many of the smaller implements I demonstrated on my compliant subject’s frame.
There are three major branches of torture. The first is pain for its own sake. I was not very interested in that unless the object of my attentions was also interested. Then I reveled in the dance.
The second is the extraction of information. Unfortunately, Paul had no useful information to extract, so we had to forgo a practicum in that area. Even if he had, he would have divulged it in response to a harsh look.
The third is the use of pain to shape the recipient’s personality into the exact configuration one wants. The Queen was expecting me to take this path. I could draw Paul’s torture out indefinitely, molding him into something his parents would not recognize. Eventually, he would die, and then the Queen would have the rest of her vengeance on my family that she had savored for so long.
Finally, the questions were over. It was time to return my attention to the quivering blob of terrorized expectation waiting suspended between attachment points. I took a red-hot poker from the fire.
“I believe I will start by burning off his little toe.”
The Queen leaned forward to look as I took the poker and rammed it through his eye into his brain. His body spasmed in death, ripping all four of his limbs from the torso. The Queen screamed in rage. The chief examiner hastily wiped a smile off her face. Taking all four limbs on that final spasm was showing off, more than a little.
I bowed to the Queen. “It is done, my Lady.
“I believe my next appointment is in the stables.” I bowed again and walked to the door, back straight, steps firm.
The stables were where I had been told. The stable master looked at me like he was seeing a ghost. He, like the Queen, hadn’t expected me to be this prompt. He led me to Dina and Davy One-eye. David looked better than I expected from when I had seen him last.
The stable master’s assistant put her hands on her hips. “I believe you are still in possession of your spirit.”
“Always,” I replied.
“You misunderstand. Most of these,” she waved her hand at the rows of stalls, “have horse spirits, not human ones.”
I looked beyond the flesh. “That’s … interesting. How was it done?”
She shrugged. “The Queen does it. Since she didn’t do it this time, training you will be harder – on you.” She left it hanging in the air.
I picked it out. “How so?”
“You have to want to become a ponygirl. If you don’t, you won’t. Once you decide to, the rest of the process is fairly automatic – a bit of sorcery Queen Malfix created for us.”
“Clearly I want to become a ponygirl. The Queen has decreed it, and I am here.”
“Clearly you don’t,” Dina snapped. “You are determined to go through with this because you have to, not because you want to.”
“Why you …” I felt my anger rise. The bald-faced effrontery of the bitch! Then I stopped my anger in midstream. Unreasoning anger can be fatal for a sorceress. Dealing with undisciplined emotion was one of my earliest lessons in the Art. I looked inward and studied it. I saw where it arose. The Queen had placed a spell on me while I had been shocked at my brother’s attack and apparent demise. The spell itself was journeyman stuff, but like all good compulsions, it was entwined with a flaw in my personality that I had considered a strength.
I could deal with it later. NO. That was another snare. I needed to deal with it to advance on my path; there was no safer place to deal with it than right here. The world slipped away as I confronted my self. I barely felt my body slump to the floor.
Eventually, I gained the upper hand and reconstructed the foundation of my self. Beliefs, attitudes and evaluations changed and fell into new patterns.
When I came to, I was lying naked in a stall. Dina and Danny watched me over the top of the stall door.
“I see what you mean,” I said. “What needs to be done?”
Dina looked at me. “The normal procedure would be to torture you into wanting to become a ponygirl. However, I believe you have made that decision.”
I smiled grimly. Torture I understood. “The Queen expects you to break me. She will enjoy watching the process.”
“Undoubtedly. But there is no point to it.”
“Actually, there is. We should not deny the Queen her pleasure. Besides which, I confess to a desire to experience the other end of the rack.”
Davy held out a rope halter. “Very well then.”
I extended my head. He brought it over and secured it. “Hands behind you.”
I turned like a good filly and he secured my wrists. Then he led me to a room in the back of the stable. A single pole rose out of the straw on the floor. There was a jar of red liquid on a stand, and a table with various straps and implements. Otherwise, the room was empty.
Dina gave Davy a red ball with a leather strap through the center. “Put it in her mouth.” I made it easy by opening my mouth to receive it. He pressed it in, and secured it tightly. My jaw began to ache from the amount that ball distended it.
“Back up to the pole.” I put my back to the pole. He began attaching restraints, from the bottom up. First were the cuffs around my ankles. He secured them snugly, but not too tight. Next was a pad in front of my knees, so that my legs would not bend out. Then there was a strap around my thighs so that my legs would not bend sideways, either. He put a belt around my waist, cinched tightly enough to squeeze, but not so tightly as to cut off my breath. Next was a strap around my torso, above my breasts but below my arms. Then he lifted my arms above my head and cuffed them to the pole.
I thought he was done, but then he arranged my hair into a single braid, plaiting a cord as the core of the weave. The cord went through a ring on the back of the pole, and thence to the bottom of the tank of red liquid. This was curious. I knew about breaking a subject with the agony of being unable to move; after all, that is how I had softened up Paul earlier in the day.
Dina said: “This will keep you from sleeping. When you try to sleep, your head falls forward. Then you will be favored with a drop from the jar. Davy, show her.” David pulled on the cord. The line went taut, and a drop shot out to land on my body. OOWWWW! That hurt! The gag efficiently muffled my cry of pain. It also stifled my comment of admiration for whoever had thought of this variation.
Dina looked at me, her eyes dark: “Enjoy yourself. We will release you when we think you have been tenderized enough to cooperate with some enthusiasm. Until then, someone will be in to feed you regularly.”
She and Davy left, closing the door behind them. I was left in darkness and agony.
At this time, there was a fork in the path I was to take. Either route would get me to my destination, but which I would take depended on another’s choice.
I looked back on my sister before closing the door. She stood there, bound to her pole, eyes focused on infinity. She is a tall woman, easily the equal of most men, and the way she normally wears her raven black hair piled up makes her look even taller. For all that, she is very heavy boned and solidly muscled. It is said that people born with the lesser moon in the asterism of the Centaur have legs like a horse. They usually mean long and thin, which certainly wasn’t true. She looks more like a blacksmith’s wife; the kind that could keep her husband under control by throwing his anvil at him. Her eyes normally show a will sharper than the finest Sdaniza sword, stronger than an ox, and more enduring than a mountain.
I didn’t know if that will could be broken. I also didn’t think it made any difference. If she decided to act like a pony, then she would learn it perfectly, and do it for as long as necessary, even to the end of her life.
This was the first time I had ever looked on her unclothed. Very probably, I would never see her clothed again. I felt absolutely no desire.
I closed and barred the door.
“We need to go to the chapel next; that should make it clear.”
I didn’t see how religion was going to clarify anything, but then, she was in charge. I followed her.
The chapel was a large room set in with the stable offices. There was nothing to mark it as special from the outside. She opened the door and we walked in.
“This,” she announced in a portentous voice, “is the chapel of the Goddess Mizx’quv.” Whatever she said sounded like it couldn’t possibly have come from her throat.
“What was that name?”
“Mizx’quv.” She giggled. I’m afraid I stared at her. That giggle didn’t sound like the appropriate degree of reverence to me.
“This is how you treat a Goddess?”
“This is how we treat this one, as long as there aren’t any outsiders around. We can be as portentous as any priests if we have to, but frankly, the ritual is for show. She has much more effective ways of binding us to her than a bunch of meaningless gestures. Take a good look at the idol.”
That made sense. I looked. The statue on the altar was of a nude woman in full working pony harness, her hands cuffed in back. She wore a full bridle with bit and blinders. She had pointed ears, a mane and a tail. Her only other adornment was a silver necklace with a single emerald at the base of her throat. A bar behind her held a number of the same kind of necklaces, in more normal sizes.
The rest of the chapel was completely bare. Four walls, ceiling and windows. I’ve always found simplicity to be the most effective demonstration.
The ruby at my throat pulsed, and I felt a curious touch on my mind. It was somewhat like the time when Deborah had demonstrated how a sorcerer could control someone. This touch felt friendly; that touch had felt heavy and, I guess, controlling. I looked at the goddess with more respect. I’d never felt a touch like that from any other god or goddess I’d worshiped.
“Good. The Goddess has accepted you. In effect, you’re now one of her acolytes, although we don’t, and I mean we don’t, mention the fact.” She paused a moment to let it sink in. “Sit down. I’ve got a few things to tell you.”
I almost asked Dina how I was supposed to sit in Her presence. However, when I thought of it, I had the clear feeling that cross-legged would be appropriate. I sat as Dina nodded her approval.
“Now for the lecture,” Dina said. “The thing to know about the gems is that they will teach you everything you need to know about tending our ponies.”
I felt my eyebrow try to rise again. “That’s one powerful gem.”
“Well…” she said. “It’s not really the gem. You’ve probably heard that there is a God or Goddess for each kind of animal?”
“I’ve heard it said, but then, lots of things are said.”
“And you doubt anything you can’t see or touch. Mostly, that’s good. In this case, however, it’s true. The reason it matters is that Queen Malfix created these two-legged ponies by driving out the human spirit and replacing it with a horse spirit. Trots Well is a horse’s spirit with a human body rather than a horse’s body.”
“Huh?” I stopped dead and stared at her. “You mentioned that earlier. How is this possible?”
“Sorcery. That’s what granny told me when I started working here. Queen Malfix drove out the human spirit and put a horse’s spirit in the body. Granny told me the first ones she did that to had a lot of trouble walking on two legs, even. We still get some that have to be trained to walk upright, but most no longer have that problem.”
“That’s … evil.”
“Well, it’s different, all right. Evil? If it was a demon rather than a horse, yes. What the Queen does? Ask the Order of the Servants of the Game. They’ve helped me understand what’s going on and deal with it. The rest of the priests around here are so far out of their depth it would be funny. Except you’re right, it’s not funny.”
“I’ve never heard of that Order.”
“I’m told they’re around, here and there. Mostly, they’re not priests, and they stay well in the background. They don’t have followers, they don’t do ritual, and if you ask them about beliefs, they just laugh at you. They regard belief as hilarious.
“So, what we have is a horse’s spirit in a human body. There wasn’t a Goddess for that combination. The horse God didn’t know how to handle a human body, and the human Goddess didn’t know how to behave with a horse as the animating spirit.
“Well, the first attempts didn’t work very well, as you might imagine. Queen Malfix didn’t give up, she created a Goddess.”
“She. Created. A. Goddess.” I’m glad I was sitting, or I’d have fallen over.
“Saying that where a priest could hear you could get you toasted. There may be a more accurate way of putting it, but that’s what it comes down to. Mizx’quv didn’t exist before, now She does. There’s a natural affinity between human bodies and the human Goddess, and between horse spirits and the horse God, so she created these gems to help make the connection. A new two-legged pony learns how to be what he or she is by using one. We put it on her as a necklace for a few weeks. After that, the connection is made; she doesn’t need the gem any more.”
I nodded. If you accepted the premise, it made sense.
“It can do one of two things if one of us uses it. The more obvious is that it trains our grooms and trainers. It doesn’t so much train us as let us know what they need and how to act with them.”
“How to act?”
“You noticed that Trots Well got confused when you told her things? You were saying it in a way she can’t understand. The gem will guide you to say things in a way she can understand, and guide you to understand what she means when she says or does something.”
“That sounds very useful.”
“Oh, it is. It will also train you in the proper ritual for the chapel. You’re sitting in the prescribed form; I hope you noticed that.”
“It just felt right.”
“Exactly. There’s one other thing it does. As long as you keep your mind focused on the fact you’re human, and your job is to take care of our two legged ponies, then it trains you in how to do that. If you think you’re a two legged pony, then it will train you in how to be one.”
“Huh?” I’d lost her again.
“Queen Malfix sent a few people down here to become ponies without changing their spirits to horse spirits. I’m told we had quite a time with them, until she fixed it. What happens is that if we can convince them they want to become ponies, then they learn how from the gems.”
I nodded slowly. “Then when Deborah decides she’s had enough posturing, we’ll put one of these on her, and that will be that.”
“In most cases, that would be true. In her case, well, she’s a sorceress. She’s quite used to believing something totally, and then changing her mind and believing something completely irreconcilable.” She smiled briefly. “It’ll be interesting.”
“One other thing I need to warn you about. The Goddess is quite literal-minded about a few things. If you want to play sexually with our ponies, she will take that as a desire to become one. Then we’d have to find a stall for you.” She looked at me.
I shuddered.
The Other had decided to keep his agreement. I left my body behind, keeping a tenuous, barely detectable link. He slid into it. Anyone with any degree of perceptivity would tell there was something different, but it shouldn’t matter.
Now that I no longer had a body, this dimension of sorcery became my world. Connections I had only read of in musty scrolls were now apparent to my unaided senses. Balls of various colored lights floated singing in the void. It was all so overwhelming!
Eventually, I found the order I knew must exist, and my purpose came back to mind. That imposed even more order. I began to look for various things; in the process I learned what I needed to find them.
Was I ever going to get my body back? Somehow, that didn’t seem very important any more. There was a war to fight, and a sorcerous dynasty to depose. I drifted through the void, collecting information here, making changes there.
I made some surprising discoveries. A person I had thought to be my enemy was not opposed to me at all. Our destinies had become intertwined; she had many of the same goals I did. I moved things around, here and there on the plane of sorcery. The path to the final denouement became stronger, more probable.
Everyone was going to be in for a shock!
“What’s the next step?”
“We’ll leave her there for a few days to simmer a bit. My notes suggest three. We’ll spend the time going over the training notes and practicing with the flogger.”
“Train with the flogger?”
She grinned. “You think there isn’t anything to using one? I’m sure you’ve seen circus performers.”
“Yes, I have.” That made me think a bit. “So you’re saying that there is a bit of technique to pick up.”
“Exactly. Both technique and usage. Take a good look at it.” I looked. It was just a leather-covered handle with nine long strands coming out the end of the handle. The strands were about three feet long, and were spread out over a two-inch line.
“Why are they attached like that? I’d think putting them together would be easier.”
“It would be easier. The difference between a flogger and a whip is that the energy of your arm is spread out over the strands rather than concentrated in one place. It hurts, but not as much as a whip. The reason for the spread is that you can focus it a bit. The strands either hit closer together or farther apart.”
I looked at it with more respect. “So I need to practice so I can hit her where I want, open or closed, and as hard as I want.”
“Exactly. There’s a practice area to start out with. Once you’re ok with the targets, you can practice on me.” She licked her lips. I stared at her.
“What?”
She laughed. “That flogger doesn’t hurt that much, at least for single strokes. We practice on each other. You don’t want to practice on the ponies – it would simply confuse them. Besides which, a few of us like it as foreplay.” She let me digest that.
“What’s actually harder is knowing when to use it. Our training notes are very definite on that.”
I lifted the bar from the door and opened it. Black Star shook her head and squinted her eyes as the light hit. Then she winced in pain as a red droplet splattered against her skin. Dina put the platter down on a stand, and I secured the cord from her hair so it wouldn’t trigger any more of the red drops.
“We’re going to play a little game, Black Star. I’m going to take the gag out of your mouth, and then I’m going to feed you. You tell me to feed you each bite. If you tell me, I’ll feed you. If you ask, you’ll get lashed.” I unbuckled the gag and took it out.
She looked at me with frightened eyes. Somehow, that didn’t look like Deborah. It had only been two hours. Deborah wouldn’t be frightened at this point.
“Please, feed me.” Dina gestured with the lash from behind her. I swung. SWISH! THUD! OWWW! “That hurt!” She sounded surprised.
I made to swing again, but Dina shook her head, so I just stood there looking at Black Star.
“I’m hungry. Feed me, please?” Dina shook her head.
“That’s better, Black Star, but not good enough. Horses aren’t polite. Just tell me.”
“I’m hungry. Feed me.” She sounded exasperated. Dina motioned toward her mouth.
“Very good!” I dipped some bread into the gravy and held it up. She opened her mouth, and I put it in. She bit it off, chewed a bit and swallowed.
“Another bite?” She asked. SWISH! THUD! OWWW! “You hurt me,” she whined.
I just looked at her.
“Give me another bite?” she asked again.
“Say it like you mean it,” I told her.
“Give me another bite.” This time she sounded exasperated. I held up a carrot. Her eyes widened a bit and she opened her mouth. I popped the end in, and she bit it off.
“I want more carrot.” She sounded more definite this time. Dina nodded. I gave her another bite.
“Some water, please.” SWISH! THUD! OWWW! “Why’d you hurt me?” Dina motioned with the flogger. I hit her again. She opened her mouth, and then thought better.
“Give me a drink.” She sounded a bit tentative. I held the dipper up and poured a little into her open mouth. She worked her way through the platter, eventually earning more mouthfuls than swats.
When we were done, I held up the ball in front of her mouth. She clamped her jaw stubbornly closed. SWISH! THUD! Dina laid into the flogger with a will. OOWWWWW! I shoved the ball into her open mouth, muffling the rest of the yell. Then I released her braid, and we left the room, baring the door behind us.
“That wasn’t Deborah,” I said, half questioning.
“I agree,” Dina said. “I don’t think your sister would have been that slow to pick up on the instructions.”
“It was a horse spirit?”
“No. A horse spirit would have done it right from the start. It’s a different human spirit.”
“How did that happen?”
“I’ve got no idea. We just go on with the program.”
It was fairly late when we were done; the rest of the day went swiftly. I got into the flow readily, those gems certainly helped. Once the stable master gave me a task, it seemed that I already knew how to do it.
When I got to my room, I found Dina kneeling on the floor, naked. To say I was flustered would be understating it. Well, almost understating it; part of me rose to the occasion.
“What?”
“I’m yours for tonight,” she purred. “I see you approve.” She drew her fingers down my shaft as I shuddered in ecstasy. I picked her up and held her. Our mouths met for a long, intense moment. Then I put her down gently and removed my clothing.
When I turned back to her, she bounced into my arms, wrapped her legs around my waist, and tried to impale herself on my shaft while I was still standing. I’m not sure how I managed to stay upright, but I did. Then I remedied the situation by sitting on my heels, while still holding her.
Her vagina walls stroked my cock as her tongue explored my mouth, and mine hers. We found things to do with our hands. Meanwhile, the tension built, and built. We came simultaneously. Her back arched, her head came back and she came with a scream of pleasure. I barely heard it as my orgasm crashed over me.
Once we came down, we unwound our arms. She slithered out of my lap, and we collapsed on the bed. She snuggled into my arm and purred.
“What,” I asked, “was that about? Not that I minded. You’re delicious.”
“Not that you minded. Humph!” she giggled. “Remember I told you what happens if you get interested in the ponies?”
“So this is your way of making certain I don’t?” She nibbled my ear.
“You got it, stud. Actually, it could have been any of our unattached women, but I’ve got first refusal. Rank does have its privileges.”
“First refusal. Humph!” She arched her back slightly as I ran my fingers down her spine.
“You certainly lived up to your reputation among the palace staff!”
“My reputation?”
“Like this.” She stroked her fingers down my shaft. “Oh, my. What do we have here? Another?”
I traced the outline of a breast and tweaked a nipple. She moaned. Our lips found each other.
The next feeding, she tried to beg us to release her. That earned her a solid flogging. Once the smell of the food got to her, she remembered what she was supposed to do. She got through the feeding with only two more swats of the flogger.
“I’m hurting. Let me out of here!” She started right in. Dina nodded.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Paul of Pozron,” she said. That earned her a swat with the flogger.
“You’re Black Star.” I said. “Now, who are you?”
“I’m Paul, you idiot,” she said. Another swat from the flogger. This time both Dina and I hit her on opposite sides.
When she quit screaming, I asked her again.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Black Star.”
“Very good. Are you hungry?”
“I’m hungry. Feed me!” This time she sounded like she meant it. She got through the rest of the feeding without incident.
“Paul?” Dina asked.
“That’s the guy Deborah tortured to death. I guess he was good for something, after all.”
“Let me down from here before I die!” She was getting real desperate.
“Who are you?”
“Paul, damn it!” We both hit her. She screamed again.
“Who are you?”
“Black Star.” She sounded discouraged.
“That’s better. What are you?”
“I’m the Duke of Pozron’s son!” SWISH! THUD! SCREEEAMMM!
“You’re a two legged horse.” I paused.
“What are you?” She stared at me like I’d lost my mind. Then she sagged in her bonds.
“I’m a two legged horse.”
“Say it like you mean it.” I held up the flogger.
“I’m a horse!”
“Much better. What kind of horse?”
“I’m a two legged horse.”
“Very good, Black Star. Are you a stallion or a mare?” I held up the flogger so she could see it.
She licked her lips. “I’m a mare,” she said, very low.
“And what am I?” She looked at me strangely. I held up the flogger.
“You’re my herd stallion?”
“Are you asking me, or telling me?”
“You’re my herd stallion.” She said it like she was still guessing, but didn’t have anything to lose.
“Very good. Are you hungry?”
“I’m hungry! Feed me.” The feeding went without any further incident. She accepted the ball when I held it up in front of her face.
The next time, she whinnied at me when I took the ball out. Dina rubbed her nose, so I reached out with my head, and we rubbed noses.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Black Star.” She sounded very definite, like I ought to know who she was.
“What are you?”
“I’m a two legged mare.” Again, she was very definite about it.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes. Feed me!” I fed her. This time, Dina held up a rope halter at the end. My eyes widened. It had only been two days. I took the halter and fastened it around her head. Then I released her arms, and cuffed them behind her. Then I released the restraints that held her to the pole. Finally, I unhooked the cuffs, and rehooked them on the other side of the pole.
She followed docilely when I pulled on the halter rope. Dina led us to a washstand. I hobbled her feet, and chained them to a ring in the floor. Then I took off the halter, and scrubbed her down, and dried her off. I put the halter back on, took off the hobbles, and took her to her new stall. She collapsed gratefully on the straw, and fell asleep instantly. I took off the halter.
“Here’s a training device,” Dina said. She held up what looked like an emerald on a light chain. “Put it around her neck.”
I reached down and circled her neck with it. There didn’t seem to be a clasp. When I looked up, Dina handed me a small lock. Snick! The necklace was secured.
I closed the stall door behind us.
“What is that thing? It didn’t feel at all like mine. It felt like it was alive?”
“It’s gentle with us. It takes a very strong hand with the ponies. It makes it so they are absolutely literal; they can’t understand anything outside of right now. They also can’t use their hands for anything but a simple grip.
I thought a moment. “I guess it would have to. There are a lot of differences between a person and a two legged pony.”
“Exactly,” she said. “It’s tuned to you now. Look at it every day. The stone gets a little red fleck every time it has to stop her from saying something, and a little blue fleck when it has to stop her from handling something. A yellow fleck means she listened to something she wasn’t supposed to understand. You just hold it for a minute, and the flecks go away. When there haven’t been any for a few days, the lock will open.”
“Davy!” I knew that voice. I spun around. I was right, it was Princess Malrode.
“Yes, Princess?”
“Show me Black Star.”
Black Star was on all fours in her stall, munching on her breakfast ration when we walked up. The food and water dishes are arranged so that they have to stand on their hands to eat. It’s actually the only time they go four footed. Since most of them can’t hold anything, let along manipulate a spoon or chopsticks, it’s the only way to handle it.
This was the first morning after we had let her off the pole. I’d really prefer that the Princess had left us a couple of days to let her acclimate, but you can’t reason with the nobility. As ex-nobility, I understood perfectly.
I knocked on the inside of her stall door. She finished chewing what she had, and turned her head. As soon as she saw me, she sprang up.
“Davy! Princess!”
“Hi, Black Star.”
“I’m going to take you out riding,” said the Princess.
Black Star whinnied at her. “I like that.”
My remaining eyebrow tried to rise again. First day? Well, the harness makers had finished her tack while she was tied to the pole. I took the bridle down from the wall and held it out. She shoved her head forward and let me fasten it around her. I tightened the buckles until it fit snuggly. Finally, I held up a bit. She opened her mouth and let me insert it and snap it to the rings on the bridle.
I hooked a pair of reins to the pieces coming down from the bit, hung them over a ring on the post, and opened the door. Then I put the waistband on. The saddle harness was next. That was constructed in one piece. I start out by placing the saddle itself against her back, positioned just above her hips, and then throw the harness straps over her shoulders. Then I buckle the waistband, making sure there’s no slack. Finally, the front of the harness comes down and gets buckled to the saddle’s waistband and tightened.
As the next part, I put her wrists in the cuffs attached to the saddle, where she can grip the handles sticking out the back. That finished off the tack.
I looked at the Princess. She made a grasping motion, so I tossed her the reins. She led Black Star out of the stable to the yard.
“Down.” Black Star looked confused. She’d never done this before, and Paul had never seen it done, either.
“Sit on your heels,” I said. She knelt and sat gracefully.
Clearly, the Princess was going to mount next. “Lean forward. Lean to your right.” I positioned Black Star with my hands. The Princess put her foot in the left stirrup and swung into the saddle. Black Star swung with her, ending bending forward but otherwise upright. Then she rose to her knees, still bending forward, and finally rose to her feet, staggering a little until she got the balance.
The Princess worked her for an hour or so in the yard. By the time she was done, she was responding to both the reins and knee signals.
We got her off without mishap at the end of the session.
The Princess stood looking at her. “That’s amazing for the first day. I thought Deborah would be good, but that’s not Deborah’s spirit, is it?”
I gasped. “No, Princess, it isn’t.”
“It isn’t a horse spirit, either. They don’t get that good that fast. Do you know?”
“Paul of Pozron, Princess.”
She smiled. “Well, I guess the twit finally found something he could do. Pity he had to be tortured to death to figure it out.”
The rock arced lazily in the air on its way to crash into the wall of the fortress. The fortress wall became a little more battered. A few more rocks, and they’d knock a hole in it. Then would come time for the final assault, and the war would be over.
“Davy. Saddle Black Star for me,” Princess Malrode ordered. “I want to take her out for a ride while the King breaks in to your father’s castle.”
“Yes, my Princess.” I didn’t have much choice about it. Her father the King let her do just about anything, and going out riding her ponygirl in a war zone was normal for her. Actually, just being in a war zone with her ponygirl was normal.
Black Star was in the corral in back of the lines with the rest of the horses. Actually, it would be more accurate to say she was on the corral. She was sitting on the fence, leaning on one hand and swinging her legs. One of the grooms had put her bridle on, and tied it to a corral post, mostly so she didn’t walk off.
She whinnied at me as I walked up. “Davy! I’m bored. Do something with me.”
I put my face next to hers, and she nuzzled me. Then I untied her halter rope and led her to the tent where we kept all the horse’s tack.
The first thing I put on was her waist-belt. This is a piece of leather that buckles in front. It’s shaped to fit over the curve of her hips and under the curve of her ribs. Once on, it’s not going to shift.
The next thing is the saddle harness. This is a fairly typical harness that’s padded where it goes over the shoulders. The shoulder straps come down to a ring in the cleft between her breasts. Another strap comes from one side of the ring, all the way around her torso, to the other side of the ring. It buckles in back. The final strap comes vertically down to a ring just below her breasts. From there, three straps come down and buckle to her waistband. In back, the shoulder straps come partway down. They’ve got loops for the horizontal strap to pass through.
I put it on her and set the buckles loosely for the moment. The saddle was next. This fit on her back over her hips. Straps in the front attached to buckles on her waistband. The straps over her shoulders buckled to the top. The saddle itself came out like a ledge, except that it sloped down a bit. I tightened all the straps until there wasn’t any give.
The saddle had wrist cuffs dangling from each side. I buckled Black Star’s wrists into them. She let her hands grip the handles at the back.
I told her: “Stay.” Then I took off the halter and put her bridle over her head. Unlike the halter, this was black leather decorated with silver bosses. Again, it was a standard bridle; the arrangement of straps was almost identical to the rope halter. The biggest difference was an extra set that ran from the rings on either side of her mouth to a ring just between her eyebrows, nicely outlining her nose. Today, I left the blinders off. The Princess didn’t use them for rides in open country; she trusted Black Star to stay out of trouble.
I held up the bit in front of her. She opened her mouth to let me install it. I snapped on a pair of short reins, and checked all of the buckles for tension.
“Down so I can mount,” I told her. She obediently sank to the ground to sit on her heels. I put my left foot in the stirrup and swung myself into the saddle. She swayed from one side to the other, compensating perfectly for my shifting weight. I put my other foot in the right stirrup, and then pulled lightly on the reins. She swayed forward seeking her balance, and then rose smoothly to her feet.
“Back, girl, slowly now, back.” I pulled her reins when she had backed out of the tent. Then a little knee pressure and tug of the left rein, and she turned and began walking. I guided her to where I’d left the Princess.
She’d taken the opportunity to change into her leather riding costume. The whip at her right was normal, but the coils of rope and cuffs on the left weren’t. So, she was going hunting. That was interesting.
“Down, girl.” She sat so I could dismount. I swung out of the saddle, and she mounted. Black Star rose gracefully. I watched Black Star’s powerful legs rhythmically trot off down the path away from the besieged castle, and wondered how long she would take.
Princess Malrode studied the landmarks. Yes, that rock, and that cluster of trees was exactly where the spy said it should be. Now, if they had figured it out, several of the rats should be popping out of the hole. It would be interesting to see if the Duke of Balizon would be among them. The war staff was divided on the question. Some thought he might try to escape to keep stirring up trouble elsewhere, and some thought he’d stay with the castle and go down fighting. She hoped he was going to try to escape.
She considered the terrain, and rode over to a shade tree on a slight rise. “Down, girl.” Black Star sat and let her dismount. She looked at the ponygirl and considered her words. “Lie down and stay there until I tell you to rise.” Black Star looked slightly confused. Oh, well.
“Lie down. Stay.” The ponygirl stretched out on the ground and started to doze. Well, Malrode thought, that was probably all she was going to get. Her two legged ponies were more intelligent than the four-legged kind, but there were still limits. Malrode reached over and scratched her behind the ears. Black Star whuffled lightly in her sleep.
Malrode propped herself against the tree where she could see the hole, and practiced stillness. Her thoughts wandered lightly. Sometimes her mother could be so tiresome. The Queen hadn’t made up her mind whether she wanted to torture the Duke and Duchess to death in front of their children, or torture the children to death first in front of the Duke and Duchess. In either case, she had interesting plans for all four of them.
Malrode shrugged slightly. Whatever the Queen wanted to do with the Duke and Duchess was fine with her, but she liked Black Star. She was easily the best ponygirl in the stable, and they had a good rapport. There were times she thought Black Star could read her mind. That was patently ridiculous; sorcery was beyond what mind she had left.
Was that some movement? It was! One person walked out of the cleft in the rock, and then a second. Then more came out. There were several men at arms she didn’t recognize. The two women were the Duchess of Pozron and the Duchess of Balizon. Now, was that the Duke? It was! They gathered for a moment, talking.
It looked like all of them. Well, time to act. She came to her feet in one flowing movement, hands outstretched at unlikely angles, fingers twisting in eye-straining patterns. Words came from her throat that didn’t sound like they could be produced by anything remotely human. The figures below froze momentarily, and then sank to the ground, out cold.
She trotted down to the depression and was busy for several minutes tying their hands behind them, relieving them of clothes and weapons, and then tying their necks together in a coffle. She sorted through the loot and took all the money and gems, as well as a pair of nicely balanced knives. The rest she left – it wasn’t as if she needed to loot to live, after all!
Black Star was still sleeping curled up where she had left her. She shook her awake and swung into the saddle. Seven captives! Not bad for a morning’s work. Her left hand flashed out in a curious gesture accompanied by another sound that might have been a word in some language only a scholar could love. The prisoners began stirring. She unlimbered her whip and watched from her seat on Black Star’s back.
She’d made a bet with herself. The men at arms looked startled, and then went blank as they looked around. The Duke did the same until he spied Black Star. Then he bucked and tried to rip his arms out of the restraints. The Duchess of Pozron looked like she was going to get hysterical. The Duchess of Balizon looked intent until she saw her daughter, and then looked like she was going to explode. That changed to a closed, cautious expression. And all of it in dumb show; she’d been careful to make sure they couldn’t make a sound.
Black Star, for her part, didn’t move a muscle. If she recognized her parents, she gave no sign. That was a good girl, the Princess thought. She’d have to think up something appropriate for Davy, assuming her mother would let them be. There wasn’t any point to rewarding someone who was going to die shortly.
Well, enough amusement. She cracked her whip over their heads to attract their attention, and then pointed. “Move it!” She cracked her whip again to emphasize the point. They staggered to their feet and began moving. She amused herself by guiding her little crocodile of captives with snaps of her whip.
She studied them a moment. They needed to keep in step better; they were getting in each other’s way. A slow, wicked smile joined a gleam in her eye. This was going to be even more amusing. She uttered another word that was only tenuously related to sound, and made a gesture. The captives began singing the Kingdom’s victory song. It had a strong enough beat to keep them moving properly. Under her, Black Star made a snort that was suspiciously like a chuckle.
Now this, thought the Princess, was going to be some victory ceremony. The bells in Black Star’s breast rings tinkled slightly as they waited for the doors of the throne room to open. The Duke and both Duchesses were standing before her, naked as the day they were born, except for the rope that tied their hands behind their backs and the hobbles on their feet. The resigned look was to be expected. She’d been very explicit about the part they were to play, and had convinced them she was quite capable of turning any ad-libs on their parts into low comedy, with them playing the part of the jester. None of them was in the least interested in finding out what was less dignified than totally undignified.
Davy stood next to her, holding the ex-Lady Sarah’s leash. She was now known as Wuffl, and was, needless to say, on all fours. One of these days, the Princess mused, she was going to have to do something about the need to have the back legs at an angle so the back could be level. Well, that would have to wait until she had time to research it.
The doors to the throne room opened with a creak of hinges. She made a mental note to check up who was responsible for not oiling them; her current footstool needed replacing.
“Move it!” The three noble captives walked into the throne room, Black Star carrying her immediately behind, and Davy at her heels. The rest of the notables and hangers-on followed.
The seneschal banged his staff, and the King and Queen entered. Today, they wore their robes and crowns. They seated themselves on the statue of the last king of the former dynasty and relaxed.
The seneschal banged his staff again.
Suddenly, there was a twang of breaking chains, and Black Star’s hands shot out, fingers at improbably angles, noises that couldn’t be created by any natural agency coming from her throat. Everyone froze in such complete astonishment that no one saw the Crown Prince and Princess of the former dynasty reach out and wrap an arm each around the King’s and Queen’s throats, while they plunged daggers into their hearts. The screams and death rattles broke the silence. No one heard the thump as Davy clipped the Princess behind the ear with the pommel of her dagger.
The King of the newly current dynasty got up from his hands and knees, drew his broadsword and roared: “What is going on here?”
The old dynasty regained control of the kingdom with startling rapidity. King Abronix and Queen Pugimax were not loved. No one, except possibly Princess Malrode, was unhappy about their demise, and she wasn’t being consulted. King Rupert and Crown Prince Daniel worked long and hard getting the kingdom’s governance straightened out, while Queen Hilda and Princess Dana tried to straighten out the palace staff.
“The next item,” said King Rupert, “is Princess Malrode. She seems to have been one of her father’s strategists, and fairly good for her age. I’d also like to retain a sorceress of her proven capabilities. However, I cannot allow her to live as a focus for discontent and attempts at rebellion. I also don’t want her if she’s going to cause trouble around court. Duke?”
“She captured us fair and square,” the Duke said. “We tried to escape, she caught us. What she did was maybe a little more than the conventions of warfare allow, but I’ve heard of worse, and nothing said about it. I don’t have a score to settle.”
“Dana, what do the servants say?”
“Not a whole lot. They weren’t particularly fond of her habit of turning them into furniture for punishment, but they all said the Queen was much worse, and the Princess only handed out punishments when they were deserved. The Queen tended to do it when she was bored or frustrated.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a problem there. What about you, David?”
“Same thing. The stable staff didn’t particularly like her, but she was no different from any of the other nobles, and lots better than the Queen.”
“Somehow, I don’t get the picture of a saint in that family. Deborah?”
“The Queen is the one that sentenced me to be a ponygirl. Malrode never mistreated Black Star.” She paused a moment. “If it please your majesty, I thought this would come up, so I had a long talk with her. What she wants surprised me totally – she wants to become a ponygirl! Specifically, my ponygirl. She thinks she has something to repay, and frankly, all the other options are either fatal or boring.”
The King snorted. “Well, that brings us to the next item on the agenda. What do we do about these half animals running around the place? The priests are in an uproar; the Order of the Servants of the Game says we need to continue it. They also say you’re the expert.”
“In a sense, I am. I did quite a bit of investigating on the sorcerous levels. Queen Malfix created something new, and the High Gods want to see what happens. They won’t be exactly displeased if you decide to shut it down by slaughtering them all, but they won’t be inclined to give you some luck when you might need it, either. We have no idea how long, but several centuries seem appropriate.”
“Humph. If it’s longer than a year, it’s permanent as far as I’m concerned. Will you take charge of it for me?”
Deborah looked stunned. “Uh, yes, your majesty.”
“Good. Now, I’m not inclined to let Malrode become a ponygirl. It would not only let her off too easily, my more enthusiastic and less intelligent enemies would continually be trying to use her in their plots. If you can come up with a way of keeping her out of play politically, she’s your assistant. Her great grandmother created the mess; it’s only fair she help resolve it.”
“I’ve got some ideas about that, your majesty,” Deborah said, a bit hesitantly.
“Work them out and set up an appointment. We’ll discuss them.”
“Now, the next item is …”
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