”Nothing you were needed for. Your requests are becoming rather specific. I thought I’d stop by and see what you were working on.” Behind her entered the palace quartermare, or whatever they called the pony in charge of the royal supply closet. Dragging behind her, one end held in a telekinetic grip, were two large toothed bars. The poor unicorn tried to lift the racks to the workbench, but couldn’t make the high surface. She ended up dropping them beside it instead, then left the room panting.