This work is copyright 2001 by Xaltatun of Acheron (A Pseudonym). It may be posted on the Internet to any free forum, provided it is not modified in any way, and provided that this notice is included in its entirety. It may not be sold, or included in any compilation that is sold, or posted on any forum that requires a fee for access, without my written permission. My permission will require payment, terms to be negotiated. For purposes of this notice, sites guarded by Adult Check or similar packages are considered pay sites. Posting on any site must include this copyright notice.
Adult Content Warning - this story contains adult themes, including ponygirl bondage and consensual slavery. 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.
OK - now on to the story -------
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 little 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!
Stay tuned for the next exciting chapter of Ponygirl Hostage. Will the evil queen be overthrown? Will Deborah make a good ponygirl? Can David get a girl? Is Sarah going to remain a bitch for the rest of her life? Can anyone tell the difference? Will Xaltatun of Acheron learn how to write a sex scene? What does Princess Malrode have in mind for our hapless ponygirl?
All this and more in the next exciting episode of Ponygirl Hostage!