Elise yawned deeply, gulping in oxygen as she stretched her exhausted limbs. Another day, another aimless trek over scorching, rocky desert without a hint of her goal. She flopped back on her bedroll and gazed forlornly at the moon-and-starlit desert, still mockingly stretched as far as the eye could see. The air was cool now, and as night drew on it would become cold. Elise sighed. What a ridiculous environment.

Still, snake meat had turned out to taste better than she would ever have thought possible, and the discovery of an oasis had been little short of a miracle. It would have been unwise to sleep in full view of a place that would attract every traveller for hundreds of miles, but Elise had been so reluctant to leave it that she made camp early behind a rocky outcrop not far from the watering hole. The blissful soak she and Selunie had taken had more than justified that decision.

Selunie had pretended to try to talk her out of it at first, of course, but her joy at Elise’s decision to remain was as translucent as her glittering wings. The irrepressible cheeriness of Elise’s pixie companion could grate at times, but now she was glad of it – anything to draw her attention from the damned desert. She looked down at the tiny faerie, already curled up asleep in the opening of Elise’s backpack, and realised how sleepy she was herself. She yawned again, and was preparing to lie down when she heard a faint shout from the direction of the oasis.

Adrenaline rushed through her, banishing her weariness. Elise tensed sharply and fumbled for her iron-tipped staff, glancing around for any sign of attack. Slowly and lightly she stood and padded her way to the edge of the rock. Easing her head around the corner, she saw what looked like two human figures making their way towards her position. Her pulse raced as she tried to deduce their intent. They were unlikely to be bandits, with only two of them. Perhaps they were simply travellers or traders. All the same, she made no move. A second shout went out, and this time Elise made out the words, spoken in a heavily accented male voice.

"Hello! Fellow travellers! By the rocks!"

Was her camp really so obvious? She remained motionless.

"I can see you there, you know! I mean you no harm, I am but a merchant."

Elise sighed as she realised she had been found out. She stepped out from the rocks and gave a half-hearted wave. One of the figures returned the gesture and started towards them.

As they drew closer, Elise realised that the figure who had waved appeared to be hovering along behind the other. Puzzled, she squinted, and was amazed to see that he was sitting atop a floating platform, loaded with bags, pots and cloths – seconds later she saw that the ‘platform’ was actually rippling slowly – it was made of fabric, like a rug or a carpet.

Then Elise made out the other figure, and was really surprised.

Towing the carpet along between two thin wooden struts was a human woman, a beautiful girl with a voluptuous figure, almond eyes and jet black hair pulled into two fine bunches. That would have been unusual enough.

But this woman was entirely naked.

The only adornments on her body were the straps of the harness that fastened her to the wooden struts, tight against her desert-weathered skin – no clothing spared her modesty. Her dark nipples and bald crotch were brazenly on display, a situation confounded by the fact that her arms were tightly pinioned behind her back, thrusting her breasts forward. Buckled around her head was a bridle, complete with metal bit between her bared teeth to which reins were attached. The man on the carpet gave a tug, and the girl’s head jerked back slightly as the reins pulled on her bit – she stopped moving and the floating carpet halted. She made eye contact with Elise briefly, but with the bit in her mouth it was impossible to read her expression. Elise could only stand open-mouthed in shock.

The man on the carpet, on the other hand, was less awestruck by Elise’s tattered clothes and matted blonde hair. "Greetings," he said in his luxurious accent. "My name is Forkash Al-Selhit, and I am a merchant. I saw your camp and realised you may be in need of supplies. I offer you my wares." He hopped down from the floating carpet, holding on to his feathered hat as his baggy trousers sent a few trinkets tumbling from the bizarre cart. He calmly stooped to pick them up.

Elise was still gawping. "Um… sorry?"

"I said I offer you my wares."

"Right… I, er… Sorry, but what on earth is going on here?"

Forkash looked puzzled. "As I said: I am a merchant, and…"

"I mean this woman! What’s she doing pulling your cart, or whatever it is? And why’s she naked? What kind of freak are you?"

The merchant was taken aback. "This is my ponygirl," he said, as if it were obvious. "Have you not seen one before?"

"Damn right I haven’t! And you mean there are more?"

"Oh," said Forkash. "You cannot have been in Arabia long. Ponygirls are very common here."

Elise simply looked back and forth between the merchant and his slave incredulously. She wondered what on earth else she didn’t know about Arabia, and should have found out before agreeing to travel here.

Forkash seemed unsure of what she was taking issue with. "I assure you she’s quite tame," he said.

"But… common? Tame?!? Why? And how do you expect to get away with it?"

"Get away with it?" Forkash asked. "I do not believe I understand."

Elise gestured manically at the ridiculous creature. "Look at her! She’s trawling through the desert like some pack animal! What on earth has she done to deserve that? Killed your family or something?" The ponygirl stared blankly ahead as Elise ranted.

"She is a ponygirl," Forkash said. "She has not done anything. That I know of!"

The merchant’s impenetrable ignorance of Elise’s problem with the whole situation was starting to wear her down, and her anger was blowing itself out.

"But, what’s the point? Surely a human can’t be much use for that sort of thing. How can these… ponygirls … " The word sat awkwardly, and Elise felt a little silly saying it. "How can they be strong enough, or have the endurance? Wouldn’t some kind of animal be better?"

Forkash shrugged. "They seem to manage," he replied. "There are no other animals in Arabia that would work as they do. There are camels, but they are rare, and with ponygirls readily available camels are more valuable as food than beasts of burden. Ponygirls are the only animals we need."

"Alright," Elise said cautiously, unconvinced. She continued to look the ponygirl up and down, still unable to believe it. "That still doesn’t explain why she’s naked."

To her surprise Forkash laughed out loud.

"Why would she not be naked?" he chortled, as though the very idea of clothing a slave was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. "What use would a ponygirl have for clothing? She has no possessions to pocket, no modesty to cover. Do you waste perfectly good fabric dressing a goat or pig? Of course not. Why then would you clothe a ponygirl? The very idea!" He laughed again.

Touché, Elise thought. "But," she tried, "what about her? I can’t believe she wanted to do this with her life."

Briefly the ponygirl looked at Elise with a wide-eyed urgency, but quickly turned away as if thinking better of it.

The merchant frowned. "I must say I am having difficulty understanding your view. She is my ponygirl. I bought her from a woman who had no further use for her. This is a simple situation, and plainly obvious to me."

Elise shook her head in disbelief. She laid down her staff and edged closer to the ponygirl, peering at its straps and harnesses.

"You seem interested," Forkash observed. "I’m afraid she’s not for sale, but perhaps when you reach a settlement you might buy your own?"

"No, no! I don’t want to buy one!" Elise exclaimed. "I’m just… curious." The ponygirl stayed motionless as Elise inspected her. The ponygirl’s skin was dusky and her hair fine; she was clearly from the general vicinity of the land they were travelling through. Her skin had evidence of weathering – it was rough in places, especially her shoulders and near her feet – but otherwise it was impeccable, and remarkably, there was no evidence of any body hair.

"How is it that she’s hairless?" Elise asked. "Do you shave her?"

The merchant laughed again. "Of course not! What a waste of effort that would be! No, I believe some kind of salve is applied to most ponygirls that permanently kills the hair on their bodies. It makes them easier and quicker to clean. They need the hair on their heads to keep the sun off, of course."

"Of course."

Elise wandered behind the ponygirl. Its arms were bound tightly, wrist to opposite elbow, by a winding strap that ran from bicep to bicep. With horror, Elise saw that the ponygirl’s arms were weak and terribly thin. Even if they were released the girl would never be able to move them again.

"Her arms!" Elise spluttered. "They’ve atrophied!"

"Well, I imagine that a ponygirl of her age will not have moved her arms for a good six or seven years," Forkash replied. "Ponygirls have no use for arms, as you doubtlessly can see, so they are tied neatly out of the way."

"That’s terrible!" she said, though now with intrigue dousing her anger somewhat.

"Not at all," responded the merchant, "it is simply good sense."

Shaking her head yet again, Elise continued her visual search of the ponygirl, squatting down to get a closer look at its lower quarters. Its leg muscles looked incredibly toned. Hesitantly, Elise raised her hand towards the ponygirl’s thigh, hovering uncertainly.

"Oh! Please, by all means," Forkash told her.

The ponygirl made no attempt to move away as Elise delicately reached out and touched its leg, tracing the contours with her fingers. She could feel astonishing muscles beneath the desert grime and caked sweat. Elise wondered how much of each day the ponygirl spent walking or running. She shuffled around behind it.

"Is this a brand?" she asked, seeing some kind of script imprinted on the ponygirl’s right buttock.

"Yes, that’s the mark of the stable that trained her," came Forkash’s reply. "I suppose it is a kind of advertisement."

Elise nodded. Her fury was fading as she became lost in wonderment, and she reached up and gently felt the brand, thinking nothing of an act that would have left her speechless with shock a few minutes ago. This time the contact elicited a slight shiver from the ponygirl as Elise’s fingers brushed the sensitive nerves around the cooked skin, but again, it made no effort to dissuade her.

"Fascinating," she muttered to herself. Finally satisfied, she stood and tuned back to the travelling merchant.

"I never thought I’d see anything like that," she told him. "Incredible. Tell me something. You use the word ponygirl in reference to these… things of yours. Why not ponyboy? Surely a man would be better suited to physical work."

"When warriors and merchants are few and far between already?" Forkash reasoned earnestly. "There are barely enough men in the east as it is! They are needed for other duties – as warriors, hunters."

Elise gave him a suspicious look, but knew nothing of the region, so with only the man’s word she had no grounds to argue. "So… who decides who becomes a ponygirl? I can’t believe it’s voluntary!"

"No, of course not. Each settlement simply has a quota it fills each year. The chieftain’s militia will circulate from time to time and take any girls they believe would make good animals – the most common eligible age is between eighteen and nineteen years. They are then sold at a state auction, where representatives of ponygirl stables buy them, train them, and sell them on to the public. It is a good way for a settlement to raise funds; it provides a vital service, and the coin raised for the chieftain allows for lower taxation. As a merchant I know something of financial practice, and this is a quite ingenious method of sustaining both an economy and a government at a single stroke. The chieftain doubles his popularity with his people at no net cost."

Elise nodded at the financial soundness. "But doesn’t anyone try to stop them being taken?" she wondered. "What about the girls’ families and friends?"

"Of course it is not easy to lose a loved one," admitted Forkash, "but people accept it as a necessary part of life. The knowledge that as a ponygirl she serves her people is some comfort, and it is hardly as though she is dead. My own daughter Jasmine’s best friend was taken when she was just eighteen, and poor Jasmine cried for days. But when the girl appeared for sale a few months later, my daughter begged me to buy her, and I never could resist those damned pleading eyes of hers – now Jasmine rides her to market every week, and could not be happier. Of course, Jasmine is only seventeen and may yet suffer the same fate, and should I lose her, I would be distraught. But I know that Arabia needs ponygirls."

Elise gave up quizzing the merchant over morals. She had known that the east would hold a few culture shocks and liked to think that she was prepared to roll with the unexpected, but she had never imagined anything like this.

Suddenly it hit her that in her dumbfounded effort to comprehend the ponygirl, she had quite forgotten the other strange thing about the merchant.

"Your cart!" she burst out suddenly. "It’s a carpet! That’s flying!"

"Well, yes, that is unusual, I grant you. I was lucky enough to encounter a djinn for whom I performed a favour, and he rewarded me with this carpet. It was a simple matter to attach the yoke. It makes the load lighter than air, and means my ponygirl can travel further and faster than any other merchant’s. It is most useful."

"A djinn?" Elise asked. "Is that a faerie?"

"I do not know what a faerie is," replied Forkash, "but if you mean a magical creature, then yes. The djinn are spirits of the desert, and can work great conjurations and illusions. Like man they can act for good or ill, but I was fortunate to encounter a benevolent one."

Elise nodded sagely at the man’s fortune in escaping such an encounter with his life. Even back home in Celtain, where faeries – or at least powerful ones – were near-mythical, defiance of nature and deception of the senses were possibilities that were taken for granted. This trip looked like being even more interesting than she had thought.

"Well then, Forkash, I thank you for your information." Elise reached for the purse at her waist. "Perhaps now I might find something I need among your goods?"

"You are most welcome," the merchant replied with a bow, "and certainly."

Forkash rolled several of his cloth bags over on the moonlit sand, spreading out all manner of trinkets and curios. Elise perused the wares for a while, chatting with Forkash about the east, its djinn and its ponygirls. She eventually made some choices, and Forkash seemed more than willing to accept her copper Celtain coins – perhaps they were valuable for their rarity here. She purchased a flowing white robe to deflect the sun, and a turban which Forkash showed her how to wear. To help Selunie, she bought a small wooden frame and some kind and some fabric, which she planned to arrange into a little sunshade on the top of her backpack. With relief she found a tiny g-string thong to wear under her now dangerously weather-beaten short-skirt, which was in danger of leaving her rather immodest herself. The leather it was fashioned from was unfamiliar but wonderfully soft, and felt glorious against her skin.

"I trust you find my goods to your liking?" Forkash asked when she had finished.

"Oh, yes. You’re the luckiest thing that’s happened to me for weeks! I suddenly have hope that I might get out of this desert alive!"

"Tell me, traveller. What is your name?"

"Elise."

"Well, Elise, might I enquire as to your destination?"

"I’m looking for Persiopolis," Elise informed him vaguely.

"Truly? That city is my goal also. You have the look of a capable fighter and bodyguard, while I have superior means of transport and know the location of the city. Perchance we can assist each other? I dislike travelling alone, especially in bandit country, and there is enough space on the carpet for another."

"What, me? Ride on that thing? With that… ponygirl?" Elise was stunned, even more so when she realised that she was considering accepting the offer. She looked the ponygirl over from head to toe and back again, as if to check that it was still real. It was.

"Of course!" the merchant said. "It would be my pleasure."

"Um…"

The ponygirl shuffled around slightly, shaking some sand from its bare feet, then went back to staring blankly ahead.

"Er… alright, I guess…"

Forkash beamed. "Wonderful! There is still a few hours’ travelling time tonight; we should move immediately. It is unwise to camp near an oasis. Get your things while I pack up here."

Elise picked up her staff and jogged back around the rocky outcrop to her camp. She stooped down to her backpack and nudged Selunie gently. The pixie awoke with a saccharine yawn and sat up, straightening her long, midnight blue cloak.

"Time to go already?" she asked groggily, her high-pitched voice as close to gruff as it ever got. Picking up her dart, Selunie skipped into the air with effortless grace, her butterfly wings shimmering like the stars as she fluttered on the rapidly cooling desert breeze.

"It’s OK," Elise told her. "We’ve had a massive stroke of luck – we’ve got a ride!" She quickly rolled up her sleeping mat. "Wait until you see it. You won’t believe your eyes."

Elise had been right. Selunie couldn’t believe her eyes. Just when she thought she was getting to know human culture, something like this happens! That was why she had left Celtain to travel with Elise, and was what she loved about humans – they were so unpredictable and exciting. Positively enchanted by the flying carpet and the ponygirl, she settled down under her new canopy on Elise’s back to enjoy the ride.

"Ready?" asked Forkash.

"As I’ll ever be," replied Elise, shifting aside a few cloth sacks to make herself more comfortable. The carpet was plush and soft, and made a welcome change from the rocky desert. It remained firm as Elise shuffled about on it.

Forkash picked up the reins and lightly swished them up and down against his ponygirl’s shoulders. With a jerk the ponygirl set off, and further lashes of the reins goaded it into a jog. The carpet glided along like a boat on a calm lake.

"Well?" asked the merchant, turning to Elise and grinning. "What do you think?"

"This is one thing I never thought I’d be doing!" Elise exclaimed with disbelief. "Does she have a name?"

"Her name is The Eighth Star," the merchant replied.

"That’s beautiful," Elise gasped.

"Indeed. A beautiful name for a beautiful ponygirl."

Elise watched the back of the ponygirl as it jogged through the night, relentless breaths of effort escaping its lips as animalistic grunts and snorts thanks to the bit. Its calves and thighs pulsed, and the brand on its buttock flowed like a flag in the wind as muscle rippled below gleaming skin. With its defunct, withered arms tied neatly out of the way behind its back, first the ponygirl’s left breast then its right was visible as they flopped quaintly from side to side with each step. Elise admired its strange grace as it pounded across the desert.

"You say ponygirls manage with endurance," Elise began as the desert whisked by. "How long will she be able to keep up this pace?"

"She has been travelling at this speed for nearly four hours today," the merchant replied, "and three of those were in the blazing sun. She will be able to carry on for another two hours or so. Then, with rest, she’ll be able to do the same tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after. When I have to drive her hard, she can make a faster pace than this from dawn to dusk."

"Amazing," Elise mused aloud. "So people ride on the backs of ponygirls as well?"

"Oh, yes," replied Forkash. "Commonly."

"And the ponygirls manage? What’s their endurance like with a rider?"

"Similar, though not quite as high as with a cart – and especially not as good as my Eighth Star with the flying carpet! A ponygirl can carry a rider at a brisk walk for several hours each day, and run at full speed for I suppose half an hour."

Elise raised her eyebrows, extremely impressed.

"Incredible." She paused. "Um…"

"Yes?"

"Um… how much might you have to spend to get one?"

Forkash was delighted. "Aha! I knew you would see sense! Thinking of buying one, eh?"

"No, no, just curious," Elise said quickly, turning her attention back to Eighth Star’s pulsating rear.

"Of course," beamed Forkash. "A ponygirl is not expensive. Second-hand at least, you can get a good one for about three times what you paid me for all you purchases."

"I see." That certainly wasn’t beyond her means, and it would help immeasurably with her travels. It would allow her to save her strength, and even make better time than if she was on foot. Maybe…

No, she couldn’t! It was slavery.

But then, from what Forkash had told her of his culture, even the ponygirls themselves didn’t view it as such. Rather than slaves, they seemed to count simply as animals. So wasn’t it just… farming?

As the bizarre cart continued its journey into the night, Elise reached for her purse and began counting her coins.