The city of Persiopolis, with its shining stone buildings, strange domed roofs and bustling marketplaces, was alien to Elise but had at least proved more hospitable than the desert which surrounded it. Her command of the language, gleaned from ancient texts supplied through the Returner network to her Seeker cell, was good enough for her to get a quick handle on the place, and soon Arabia's imposing aura of mystique had faded enough for her to feel confident there.

Elise's pale skin and blonde hair stood out like a beacon amongst the dark Arabians, making keeping a low profile difficult, and the fear and ignorance with which Ancients were regarded here mirrored that of the most superstitious regions of Celtain - it was illegal even to possess ancient relics, which appeared to be much rarer than at home. All the same, Elise eventually found a trail pointing to a small curio shop whose owner was rumoured to deal in such things.

She had even found time to spend with Forkash, who had kindly offered her lodgings in exchange for no more than her company, and his teen age daughter Jasmine. Jasmine was a hopeless ponygirl enthusiast and even owned one of her own, which she had named Apricot after its favourite treat. Jasmine spent most days working in her Forkash's general store but always found time to visit her ponygirl where it was housed alongside Eighth Star, her father's pony, in the sheltered stalls that passed for a stable behind Forkash's outlying dwelling.

Elise had quickly grown to like the bubbly Jasmine, an attractive teenager with bright eyes and an infectious smile that took after her father's. She and Selunie had chatted with her for hours about their respective homelands, Jasmine being as enchanted with Elise's pixie companion as Selunie had been with ponygirls. It had even transpired that Elise's and Jasmine's birthdays fell on the same date, and at Jasmine's wide-eyed behest Elise had allowed herself a day away from her investigation to celebrate with unhealthy amounts of sweets.

It was during the day's sugary excesses that the conversation had again turned to ponygirls, and Jasmine had been appalled when she discovered that they were unheard of in Elise's homeland. She had taken it on herself to educate the naïve westerner, imparting every ponygirl fact she knew. It was a lot of facts.

Elise learned why she never heard a ponygirl make a sound ("surgeons make incisions in their throats to mute them"); that a ponygirl with unbound arms was for some reason considered offensive ("oh I don't know, it just looks all weird"); and why Jasmine referred to her ponygirl as being one year old (Forkash quietly explained that a ponygirl's age was reckoned from the date of its capture, as an aid to standardising trade. At only just over a year old Apricot was still a filly, while Eighth Star was a 7 year old mare. Most ponygirls had a solid working life of at least 15 or 16 years, and once past their prime and sold on to less choosy buyers, some could even reach as much as 30).

On one rare day that Elise could spare, Jasmine had even dragged her along to one of her favourite pastimes - watching girls in their first few days of ponyhood (or 'newborns' as Jasmine disconcertingly referred to them) being broken in. Initially sceptical that any entertainment value could be gleaned from this, Elise had quickly become enthralled as she watched the stable's tamer flick his whip expertly against pert buttocks and bouncing breasts, sending the hapless, protesting fillies scampering tearfully around the paddock. Still unused to life without the use of their upper limbs, these leashed girls had none of the grace of trained ponygirls; time and again Elise would see a young ponygirl lose its balance and crash to the ground, skidding painfully across the parched, rock-hard earth. She could see now why ponygirl trainer was such a respected profession. Not only was it vital to Arabian society, it would obviously take great skill to mould these clumsy and unwilling girls into agile, obedient animals like Eighth Star.

Soon, thanks to Jasmine, Elise had an encyclopaedic knowledge of ponygirls, and marvelled at the similarity between the treatment of ponygirls and that of the horses with which she was more familiar. Ponygirls and horses were broken and trained in exactly the same way, controlled with the same commands, kept in identically designed stables, given the same sort of food. Elise found herself wondering which techniques had influenced which.

Jasmine had listened wide-eyed as Elise told her about horses. She was filled with wonder at the idea of huge creatures that could be ridden like ponygirls, and mystified still further when she heard how rare and expensive they were. When she discovered that Elise knew how to ride, she instantly suggested that the two of them go for a ponygirl trip around the city.

"You can borrow Eighth Star, I'm sure father won't mind!" she had blustered at breakfast one morning.

"Oh, yes, let's!" Selunie piped up from where she sat in the middle of the thick table, nearly lifting off as her wings fluttered with excitement. "That would be amazing!"

"Well - um - I'm not sure," Elise tried, surprised at the offer. She had been sheepishly imagining herself riding a ponygirl in her head since the day she had met Forkash, but found herself hesitating faced with the immediate reality. "I wouldn't want to tire her out before your father needs her later, and I have a lead to follow today…"

"Your lead won't take you five minutes to check up on," huffed Selunie. "Don't be a spoilsport."

"And you could even do it on the ride!" encouraged Jasmine.

"Quite," chimed in Forkash from the other side of the table, wearing one of his huge, amiable grins. "You could not tire Eighth Star if you tried. I shall not need her today - take her with my compliments."

Jasmine beamed with delight. "Hurry up and finish breakfast," she said. "We can go straight afterwards!"

Elise bit the bullet. If not now, then when? "Alright then," she said with conviction. "I'll go for a ride with you."

They quickly finished breakfast and headed to the stable.

"Hi, Apricot! Hi, Star!"

Jasmine announced her presence brightly as she and Elise rounded the corner and faced the two little stalls at the back of Forkash's dwelling where the ponygirls were kept. Elise had chosen to wear her weather-beaten western travelling outfit, with its tiny skirt and knee-length soft leather boots, so as to able to fit her legs around a ponygirl's back; Jasmine wore specially designed riding robes, split nearly to the crotch at the front and back to enable the lower part of the robe to be tied around her waist once in the saddle. Her black, silken hair was tied back into a pony tail to make sure it didn't flap into her eyes, while Elise's dirty-blonde locks, which she functionally maintained with a sharp knife, were short enough that she didn't have to bother.

Each ponygirl had its own little stall with a bed of straw, while they shared boxes of food and water fixed atop the chest-high wall that divided their stalls. The stalls had a roof and walls, but were protected at the front only by waist-high bolted gates made up of a few wooden bars; Arabia's infrequent storms couldn't have been much fun for Eighth Star and Apricot if the wind happened to be blowing into their stalls.

The two ponygirls were already awake, their arms tightly bound behind them as always, and tethered to hitching posts by light ropes running from their nose rings. Eighth Star was at her stall gate gazing out at the sunshine, the rays flashing across her body highlighting her sculpted torso with stark shadows. Elise was struck again by Eighth Star's exotic beauty, the only thing marring it the slight sagging of her large breasts where years of permanent nudity had finally begun to take their toll. Apricot had her face buried in the box of feed, scooping oats into her mouth noisily. She stood up as she heard her name called.

"We're going for a ride today, greedy!" Jasmine said to her ponygirl as she unbolted the gate to Apricot's stall with a heavy clunk.

Elise couldn't help again admiring the ponygirls' physiques. Their hairless, unclothed bodies put her in mind of oceans, flowing with muscle as they moved. She had already had a good look at Eighth Star when she had first met Forkash, but this was the first time she had seen Jasmine's ponygirl up close. The smaller ponygirl lacked Eighth Star's dusky beauty but it was still pleasing to look upon, its perkier breasts and doe eyes giving it an air of youthful vigour. Its hair was cut short and its nose ring brightly polished, glinting as the ponygirl's movement caused the tether to ripple. Jasmine had also personalised her ponygirl by attaching a large, colourful feather to a ring through its left nipple. You wouldn't have to know the family to guess which ponygirl belonged to the father and which to the daughter.

Forkash had said that Apricot had been Jasmine's best friend before she had been caught by ponygirl collectors, and when she had come up for sale, Jasmine had pleaded and pleaded until her father bought the girl for her. Jasmine clearly loved Apricot, showering the ponygirl with affection and fuss as Elise looked on, but it was in the way that someone might act around a pet dog. Despite growing used to ponygirls in general, Elise couldn't imagine ever accepting, let alone desiring, to treat a friend in that way; it would feel to Elise like a violation of the memory of that friendship. But it served to further underline the sheer normality of ponygirls.

Jasmine stroked Apricot's shoulder softly. "Who's a good little ponygirl?" Apricot looked rather nonplussed at the attention, but Jasmine was undeterred. "I've got something for you, Apricot. Here, girl! Look what I've got!" She held out her hand, and in it was a wedge of apricot fruit. Immediately the ponygirl looked more interested in its owner. Stooping to Jasmine's hand, Apricot tried to put her lips around her namesake, but it was a large piece and she couldn't quite fit it into her mouth. Jasmine giggled at the drooling ponygirl as its lips and tongue forlornly chased the fruit wedge around on her hand.

"That tickles!" she laughed, wiping her hand on her robe after Apricot eventually managed to snap up the treat.

"No treat for you, Star," Jasmine apologised to her father's ponygirl as she unfastened the tether from Apricot's nose ring, though Eighth Star gave no particular indication she had understood. Instead she watched a black cat as it sauntered past, making sure the ponygirls knew exactly whose territory this was with an assertive hiss.

"Right," said Jasmine, turning to Elise with a saddle and bridle in her hands. "I'll saddle up Apricot and show you how it's done; then you can try it with Eighth Star. She shouldn't mind you saddling her, she already knows you a bit and she's very obedient."

"OK then - lead on."

Elise watched intently as Jasmine expertly buckled the saddle and bridle onto her ponygirl, explaining what she was doing as she did so. Apricot stood patiently as her owner set to work.

"Balance the saddle in place first… put these two long contoured hook things in behind her crossed arms. There won't be any weight resting on her arms once you've finished but they'll brace your weight against her lower back… shoulder straps next, then waist - I've got to be careful not to trap her feather inside the harness, that could tear her little nipple poor thing! … then loop the anchor strap between her legs, don't buckle it too tight!… Then the bridle - hurry up and swallow your treat Apricot! - you need to place it so the bit will hurt her slightly when you pull the reins…"

Soon Apricot was ready to go, looking smart and impressive. Elise laughed as the ponygirl shook itself comfortable in the harness, the feather at its nipple swishing around cutely as its pert little breasts jiggled. Jasmine led it outside into the sunshine.

"Your turn, Elise," said Jasmine, opening Eighth Star's stall and unhitching the tether from ponygirl's nose ring.

"Let's give this a go then…"

Elise took the other saddle and bridle from the rack and slowly entered Eight Star's stall. The ponygirl didn't move. Elise drew closer, the saddle raised, but suddenly Eighth Star too a step back. elise looked at Jasmine for a prompt.

"You need to reassure her," Jasmine said. "She's obedient, but she needs to feel comfortable with you. Father used to slowly stroke her cheek with the back of his hand. Try telling her she's a good girl, too."

Nodding, Elise carefully extended her hand towards the ponygirl's face. "Good girl," Elise said with effort, looking into the ponygirl's dark eyes and suddenly reminded of the strangeness of what she was doing. Treating a human like a horse, and with deadpan seriousness! How she would have laughed at the idea a few weeks ago. She forced herself to continue, delicately brushing Eighth Star's cheek a few times.

At first nothing seemed to happen, but then, slowly, the ponygirl took a tentative step towards her. Elise was delighted. It had actually worked! "Good girl!" she repeated with more enthusiasm, as her success banished the brief rush of embarrassment. "Good ponygirl."

Once more Elise raised the saddle, and she cautiously stepped around to the ponygirl's rear. This time it made no attempt to move away. Elise placed the saddle's padded, contoured steel bracing hooks in behind its bound arms. Still it allowed her to continue. Elise looped the straps over the animal's shoulders, then around its waist, and buckled them tight. Heart in mouth she fed the anchor strap down between the ponygirl's taut buttocks, pressing it into place with her fingertips, and, feeling ridiculous, threaded it delicately between Eighth Star's powerful thighs. She pulled it up into the ponygirl's smooth crotch as tight as she dared before buckling it together with the others around the front - Eighth Star gasped, eyes widening as the intrusive strap bit into her, but offered no resistance. The saddle was in place.

Smiling encouragingly, Jasmine came back into the stall to help Elise finish off, making sure the straps were correctly tightened.

"I think she likes you!" giggled Jasmine. "I told you she was obedient. Now do the bridle. Remember, when you put the bit in her mouth, her lips will be pushed with it - make sure they slip back over her teeth, not into her mouth. Believe me, she'll let you know if you do that."

Very carefully Elise pushed the steel bar into the ponygirl's mouth. There were soft clacking noises, the bit rattling against Eighth Star's teeth as Elise shuffled it around. Suddenly the ponygirl bucked violently, its face contorted in pain, as Elise inadvertently trapped its upper lip between a tooth and the bit. Elise was nearly knocked her off her feet as the ponygirl bumped into her.

"Told you!" Jasmine sniggered mischievously.

"Oops. Sorry girl."

Elise picked up the bridle and started again, even more careful this time. It took her at least three times as long as Jasmine had, but eventually she was satisfied the ponygirl's mouth was propped open to the correct extent. She fastened the bridle buckles around its head. Jasmine checked the bridle by jerking the reins in various directions, and nodded approvingly.

"Perfect," she said. "All done. So now it's time for your first ride!" Jasmine took hold of Eighth Star's reins and led the ponygirl outside to join Apricot, bolting the stall gates shut after both animals were clear of the stable. "Are you sure you'll be OK?"

"Seems like you control a ponygirl in the same way as a horse," Elise assured. "I should be fine. I'll let you know if I need help!"

Jasmine nodded. "I remember you saying. I'd love to see a horse one day, they sound amazing."

"No more amazing than ponygirls," Elise stated with a confident smile.

"Well, anyway, do you want to mount up first?" Jasmine suggested.

"I guess so."

Elise took a deep breath. She was still inexplicably nervous. Somehow, although by now she was perfectly used to the sight of ponygirls, the idea of mounting one herself still brought to mind how farcical it had seemed when she had first seen Eighth Star in the desert. A moment of clarity hit her as she looked up and down Eighth Star's body, the ponygirl's naked skin, bound arms and bit-bared teeth once again making it look like a poor young woman in ridiculous bondage rather than an everyday ponygirl.

But she forced the feeling aside, reminding herself of how integral ponygirls were to this society. Taking another deep breath, Elise placed her left foot into the stirrup. After one final pause to collect herself, she pushed up off the floor, swung her leg over the saddle and sat down across the padded, u-shaped seat, legs spread wide and knees high as she found the other stirrup. Eighth Star didn't even stagger.

Experimentally Elise pulled lightly on the ponygirl's left rein. Instantly it turned in place in response. Elise pulled the right rein, and it turned back to face the stall gate.

The feeling was incredible. Not even the first time she had mounted a horse had made her feel quite like this. Elise didn't know whether it was the freshness of novelty, the triumph of success, or some more sinister rush of power causing her exhilaration, but she didn't care. She gazed at the ponygirl's pathetic little atrophied arms entwined between her legs, felt its weather-roughened skin brushing the insides of her bare thighs, and her breaths quivered as a delicious thrill ran through her.

"Wow," she gasped, lost for words.

"You look like a natural," Jasmine congratulated, quickly mounting her own ponygirl. She gathered up the two halves of her split robe and threw them around her waist like a sash, revealing a pair of shapely young legs.

Elise tried to gather herself. "Where, er, do you want to go?"

"Oh, anywhere - let's see where the day takes us. Follow me!" Jasmine tapped her heels against Apricot's hips and the ponygirl trotted off around the corner of the house.

"Well, this is it," Elise said to selunie, perched on her shoulder.

"Our own little human horse!" gushed Selunie shrilly. "Make it go, Elise!"

Elise laughed. "OK, here goes!"

She tapped Eighth Star on the hips with her heels, and instantly the ponygirl set off with a jerk. Feeling the ponygirl's footsteps shuddering up through the saddle and its breasts bouncing against her knees made the experience seem even more real.

"This is just magical," Selunie burst out.

Elise laughed again as Eighth Star walked briskly out into the dusty, sun-baked street. "High praise coming from you!" She gave the ponygirl another tap and it sped up to catch up to Jasmine, tough feet pounding and bare breasts flopping as it jogged down the earthy street.

Elise, Selunie and Jasmine spent most of the morning riding through the busy streets of persiopolis, laughing and talking. Jasmine delighted in explaining the various sights to Elise, who had already seen most of them but didn't like to ruin the moment for the girl.

Instead she concentrated on how much she was enjoying riding Eighth Star. She was surprised at just how relevant her horse-riding experience was; Eighth Star was amazingly responsive to her commands, a delight to control. Elise was almost embarrassed at how easily she could direct with reins and heels what was, when all cultural pretence was stripped away, an unfortunate, naked young woman.

At first Selunie was eager to join in the ride, flitting about delightedly and perching on the bemused ponygirls' heads and shoulders, but Elise wasn't the least bit surprised when the pixie grew bored and announced she was leaving to explore the city on her own. She rolled her eyes and waved goodbye cheerfully.

Towards the centre of Persiopolis the streets were not earthy, but evenly paved with stones, baking hot in the late morning sun. The bare-footed ponygirls didn't seem to mind, though, continuing on with their usual unresisting obedience. Persiopolis was a city of commerce, craftsmen and farmers coming from across the region to sell their wares. As Elise and Jasmine drew closer to the middle of the city the streets came alive with people, noisily shouting and haggling, and soon they were having to carefully steer their ponygirls around bustling shoppers and market stalls.

In one particularly large food market street, buzzing with chatter and heavy with the smell of spices and dried fruits, Elise saw through the crowds a group of nine or ten armed men, escorting a huge, heavy wagon. No less than four ponygirls were yoked to the cart, driven with a stick by one of the soldiers as he walked alongside, but even they were struggling move it as they strained against their harnesses, snorts of intense effort blasting past their bitted lips. Swarms of opportunistic flies left the fruit stalls and crawled all over their naked, helpless bodies, helping themselves to the sweat that ran in rivers down the ponygirls' soaking skin as the wagon rumbled slowly down the street. The crowds of shoppers parted reverentially in front of the procession.

It was militia patrol, Elise realised as she drew closer and made out their distinctive spiked helmets and embroidered white robes. The large sealed wagon, then, was obviously a prison cart, its enclosed design making it impossible to view its unfortunate passengers. Judging by the pained struggles of the ponygirl team it had a fair few prisoners in it.

There was, however, something unusual about the patrol that Elise couldn't quite place; she reined Eighth Star in a little. Racking her brain as the men gave her annoyed stares, she realised that they didn't seem to be doing anything. A group escorting a wagon like this should have been hurrying to the scene of a disturbance or hastening back to the dungeons with prisoners, but these soldiers were simply ambling along, glancing about them in almost casual fashion. A couple of them had long looks at Jasmine as the teenager passed them, staring at her bared legs in particular.

Shrugging to herself she gave Eighth Star a quick tap with her heels to catch up with Jasmine. The ponygirl obediently picked up its pace once more, and the pair continued on their tour.

In particular Jasmine was eager to show Elise Shunti Square, the huge common where most of the region's ponygirl training stables sold their goods. It was a market day and the traders were out in force; at least a dozen stables had pens stocked with fresh young ponygirls, and there were also many private owners selling on older ones. Each trader had their own fenced enclosure where they displayed their wares, their quality proudly displayed by colourful banners and yelled out by criers to anyone and everyone who came in earshot.

Unlike in Celtain, where horses were extremely rare and meticulously auctioned one at a time, all of a stable's ponygirls were lined up and displayed at once, roped by the nose to fences and standing patiently in the sun as buyers examined them closely. There must have been well over a hundred ponygirls for sale in the huge marketplace, for any use and to suit any budget. Elise was bowled over by the sight.

"I love coming here just to look at all the ponygirls," Jasmine told her as they slowly rode through the noisy square dodging shoppers. "I imagine having the money to buy any one I want."

A nearby trader, a short middle-aged woman, overheard her. "Keep riding like that, Mini, that and one day you will win all the money you could need at the games!" she yelled out above the din, as she extolled the merits of her ponygirls to a customer.

"I'm not going to buy from you just because you keep flattering me, Safa!" she called back as they rode past. The woman grinned and turned back to her customer.

"I'm here so often most of the traders know me," Jasmine explained sheepishly as they rode on. "Safa works for the Al-Jasir Stables. They train really good ponygirls for distance riding. She'd be a good person to talk to if you want to buy one, Elise."

"Perhaps," Elise said, though she looked with interest at the Al-Jasir ponygirls' lean, taut-muscled physiques. They certainly had the build of distance runners. She made a mental note of the stable's name.

Suddenly remembering her own task for the day, Elise looked at the position of the sun realised the morning was drawing to a close.

"We should go and check on my lead now, Jasmine, time could get short on this one. It shouldn't take long."

"Alright then, I'll follow you."

They rode out the other side of Shunti Square. A few streets later they reached Elise's goal, a small curio shop in a side street surrounded mostly by residences and a couple of other small stores. A few women were walking past carrying baskets, some people were outside their homes talking to neighbours, but the street was quiet compared to the others they had ridden on that morning. Most people were away working or shopping.

"This looks like the place," Elise said, gazing at the battered and faded picture of a lamp that served as the shop's sign.

Jasmine raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure? It doesn't look like much."

"Well, it wouldn't," Elise told her, "not if what I hope is in there, is in there."

"What's that?" Jasmine asked.

"Nothing much. Just something to do with my work. I shouldn't be long. Jasmine, sorry but I'd rather you wait here."

"Why?"

"Please? I won't be long."

"Well, alright, I suppose."

Elise dismounted and, handing Eighth Star's reins to Jasmine, she entered the shop.

The dim, lamp-lit curio store was as small as it looked like it would be, and had a faint spicy smell that Elise couldn't quite place, but made up for it with the sheer density of bizarre-looking objects crammed onto its creaking shelves. No clerk was visible so Elise wandered around slowly, examining some of the goods.

She had no idea what most of them were, many looking as though they were not Arabian. She recognised the style of a few objects from what little she knew of Africa, and others were obviously from further west towards Elise's homeland of Celtain.

There were also some that looked to Elise's limited knowledge to be from the Far East, including one item hanging on a wall, brightly embroidered and embossed with fearsome, dog-headed dragons, that was unmistakably an exotic ponygirl saddle. Elise wondered just how widespread ponygirl use was; did it stretch all the way to the rising sun? Strangely the harness' bracing strut did not look as though it would fit over its wearer's arms, and one of its three horizontal straps was at a height where it looked like the ponygirl's arms would have been; Elise puzzled over this for a moment, then elected not to think about it any further. She continued browsing through the curios.

Suddenly a man swept though the curtain behind the cluttered counter with such speed that Elise nearly dropped the small icon she was holding as she reflexively tensed into a fighting stance, but she relaxed when she saw he was the shopkeeper.

"Greetings!" the man said, his drooping moustache twitching upwards as he flashed a massive grin. "My my, a foreigner! A rare treat. From far west of here if I am not mistaken?"

"That's right," Elise said, trying to arrange the little icon back on its shelf.

"Excellent, excellent. And what can I do for you, foreign flower? A souvenir of the east perhaps? A curio from distant lands? A jewel as beautiful as yourself for your lover?" He smiled greasily.

Elise smiled. "Actually I'm here on a recommendation. Perhaps you know why."

The shopkeeper looked confused, almost theatrically so. "I do not, I am sure, lady," he said.

"Maybe this will help." Elise opened the pouch at her waist and drew out her relic weapon.

It was intoxicating to hold; even though Elise had never used it in anger she knew full well its godlike power. The silver, cylindrical drum that held the weapon's ammunition and the barrel that discharged it gleamed with a cold, eerie beauty in the flickering lamplight of the shop as she slipped her finger inside the trigger guard. She only possessed three bolts and was not about to waste one on a shopkeeper, but he had no way of knowing that. Her eyes narrowed as she pulled back the ignition hammer with a sinister click.

Instantly the man drew back with a gasp of terror. As Elise had hoped, he knew exactly what the weapon was.

"Of course," he stammered, his moustache flicking up and down as he unsuccessfully attempted one of his smiles. "W.. what can I help you with?"

"I've come to the right place, then," she said. "I am a Seeker. A Returner agent. Does that mean anything to you?"

"N… n…"

"We search for technology of the Ancients, recover their secrets. And you obviously know more than you should about things like this. Right now I'm looking for weapons. Terrible, cataclysmic weapons that may be buried beneath the sands of Arabia. If we can understand these, we can harness their power to deter conflict, a massive step towards our goal. Can you help me?"

"Y… you're not from the temple?"

"I'm nothing to do with any religion," Elise said flatly. "Not the sort you're worried about, anyway. Returners usually encourage people like you, in fact, you annoy the opposition. Now can you help me or not?"

The man breathed a massive sigh of relief, and mopped his brow with a voluminous sleeve. "Um. There is a… uh…" He stared nervously at Elise's weapon.

Elise rolled her eyes and put the relic pistol away. "Yes?"

"There is a site I have heard of," the man said with effort, "that some of my, er, customers have spoken of. It may contain what you are seeking, or clues as to their whereabouts. Irem, a city of spirits…"

"Irem?"

"There are many places called this... terrible places. They reek of death," he said, though his tone suggested he was relating someone else's words. "Stone and trees and metal intertwined like a madman's dream. Ghouls waiting to snatch souls, toy with travellers, to feast on the living…"

"I see," Elise stopped him. She knew of such places. Usually called haunted forests in Celtain, the man's description was colourful but there was barely any exaggeration. The places were the only visible remnants of the cities of the Ancients, destroyed upon the merging of the worlds and now swimming in the miserable shadows of the millions who had died there. Malevolent spirits and faeries basked in the air of suffering that hung over them, tormenting each other and gleefully seizing any chance to claim an outsider as a plaything. Elise wondered what demons and dangers the eastern cities held.

But contained within the dead cities were many secrets of the Ancients and their technology, and those had to be recovered. Shades could be warded away, faeries tricked or fought. And with Elise's relic weapon she had a force they quailed before: it came from a time when the magical had been conquered, the very essence of the Ancients and their science, anathema to things mystical.

"Where?" Elise demanded.

"You cannot be serious," the man said in disbelief.

"Where?" she repeated.

"About three days' travel south by southwest, if rumours are true," he struggled. "That does not sound far, I know, but it lies through land occupied by the savage tribes, and beyond that is uncharted. That is all I know."

"I believe you," Elise announced, to further obvious relief. She smiled sweetly and patted her weapon pouch. "I would like to have a closer look at your stock when I have time though."

"I can assure you, I do not deal in…"

"Oh please, of course you do. Just hold on for a few days, and…"

There was a piercing scream from outside the shop.

"Jasmine!"

Elise sprinted out of the dim store into the glaring sunshine, and had to raise her hand to shield her eyes. Nearby she made out Eighth Star and Apricot, both animals now riderless. As her eyes readjusted she saw the group of militiamen they had passed in the market square. And being dragged towards one of the men by a lasso around her chest, struggling and screaming, was Jasmine.

That was why the patrol had not been in a hurry to get anywhere - they had no destination, they had simply been scouting. They were ponygirl collectors.

As Elise looked on in horror two soldiers started towards a second young girl who was trying to sneak towards a nearby doorway, eyes wide in panic. She screamed and fled down the street, dropping her basket of bread. Nets raised, the soldiers sprinted after her.

Jasmine's struggling, this girl fleeing in terror… Evidently, though by law girls had submit to pony status, no one expected them to like it. The collectors were equipped not to simply order compliance, but to hunt and capture girls who it was accepted would attempt to escape. Seeing this, Elise realised that her acceptance of ponygirl culture had not quite reached the point where she could stomach the fate for a friend. She knew that law and custom both required her to stand back, but she was well used to skirting authority when it suited her goals and it did not faze her.

Elise's eyes were aflame as she stormed towards the men who were reeling in the sobbing Jasmine. "Let her go!" she thundered.

"Careful, foreigner," the soldiers' leader warned gravely, as the screaming Jasmine was smashed over the head and fell silent. "Perhaps you are unaware of our law, but we are sanctioned ponygirl collectors. Attempting to free this young woman means breaking the law, and we will meet you with force."

Elise said nothing. Wishing she had her staff with her, she charged the soldiers.

"Stop her!"

One of the men moved forward to meet Elise, and grinning wickedly, he drew back his club. But instead of cowering, Elise sprang forward to stop the attack and wrestled the man to the ground, trapping his arms. Surprise was still frozen on his face as she slammed her forehead into the bridge of his nose with a dull crack. He was knocked out instantly. Grabbing his weapon she sprang to her feet and charged towards the rest of the militiamen.

Shocked into action, the other soldiers hastily dropped their non-lethal pony-hunting equipment and fumbled to draw their swords. Two were not quick enough, and as Elise barrelled into the soldiers two were knocked out with a single arcing sweep of her club. That left her facing five sword-wielding soldiers, who quickly positioned themselves between Elise and the men who were carrying the unmoving Jasmine.

There was no time. Attacking the most uncertain-looking troopers first she fell on them with a flurry of feints and lightning attacks, bashing their swords aside and felling two more almost instantly.

"Stop her now!" the soldiers' huge leader bellowed as his last two men looked on in amazement.

The leader and the two militiamen, an older-looking man with greying hair, and one with a thin, weasel-like face, gathered themselves to counter attack. They swung their scimitars in practiced fashion but they were obviously unfamiliar with Elise's fighting style, and unused to a woman putting up any kind of resistance at all; their attack lacked conviction. All the same Elise had never fought against such odds in the open before, and she had to spin and weave like a whirlwind just to avoid their blows. Grey hair was the slowest and she concentrated on him first, soon taking him out with a glancing strike to the skull just below his showpiece of a helmet, but she was running out of time. She could see the two men carrying Jasmine nearing the huge gaol wagon waiting at the end of the street - the wagon that she now knew to contain not criminals, but a haul of new ponygirls.

The swords were growing harder to avoid as Elise tired. Weasel face swung his sword across her upper arm and she cried out with pain. A vertical strike from the leader swept down her chest as she ducked buck, slashing her loose shirt wide open and slicing a stinging cut across her breast. In desperation she hurled her club at weasel face. He knocked it aside but gave Elise an opening to pounce. She rapped him in the temple with her knuckles with expert precision, knocking him cold. She spun around to meet the last attacker, the soldiers' leader. But the fight had exhausted her, and she turned only in time to see a huge fist a split second before it slammed into her face.

The entire world seemed to disappear, leaving only a dull, hot pain. Elise was vaguely aware of a floating sensation, then an impact. She decided she was lying on the ground because the blurry line that she knew to be the top of the buildings at the end of the street was now vertical. She absently mused that blood tasted a little rusty, before electing to attempt to stand up. She pushed where she decided the ground was most likely to be and tried to rise, but collapsed to the dirt again. With a massive effort she shook the cobwebs from her head and struggled to her feet.

Her vision returned to normal just in time to see a weighted net as it sweep towards her. She raised her arms to catch it but too late, and it wrapped itself around her like a cocoon. She cried out and tried to throw it off but she was too entangled, and was helpless to either flee or protect herself when the soldier slammed into her and pinned her to the ground. Elise was strong for her size, but the soldier was a huge man and she was helpless to move.

"Let go of me!" she demanded as loudly as she could bear, her head throbbing and blood trickling into her mouth.

The soldier ignored her, instead seizing her wrists behind her back in a single meaty fist and trapping her further. "Hakeem!" he called out in his rumbling voice after the men who were carrying Jasmine away.

"Get off me!"

The soldier punched her casually in the side of the head. "Be quiet," he said. "You cannot attack ponygirl collectors, foreigner. We have the authority of the chieftain of Persiopolis as well as the Emir himself. If you were male you would have been executed on the spot."

"You can't take her!" Elise seethed, straining to look upwards at the man. "She's not old enough!"

The soldier laughed. "If I had a gold coin for every time I have heard that, I would have retired years ago! I must say, though, I have never seen anyone fight like that." He surveyed his unconscious comrades. "Seven militiamen single-handed! These men will be out of service for days, I suspect." He wrenched Elise's arm vengefully to punctuate the statement, and she cried out in agony.

"Almost a shame we cannot take you on in the militia," the man continued. "You are very strong. I would not be surprised if you end up in the royal stables."

"What?" Elise fought to control an unfamiliar pang of panic as it dawned on her why the soldier had not killed her. "You're making me a..? But I've got important work to do! And I'm twenty three, I'm too old for you!"

"More lines I could retire on," the soldier mocked. "I am too young, I am too old, I have a weak leg, I must take care of my sick grandmother and my twenty eight brothers and their damned dog…"

"But I'm not even Arabian!"

"So?"

This was not good. Not good at all. Elise struggled harder, but all her wriggling and squirming was in vain.

"Ah, Hakeem," she head the man say, as heavy footfalls in the earthy street heralded Jasmine's captors returning. "We will take this one as well." Then he pointed at the riderless Eighth Star and Apricot, standing calmly in the street. "And Faruq, get those ponygirls sent back to their owners."

"Sir!" two new voices chorused. Desperation rose up in Elise's stomach. The last thing she felt was a glimmer of hope that Selunie would find her, before a massive pain exploded at the back of her skull and the world faded into blackness.