With a flash and a pop, my son — damn it, my daughter-in-law — disappeared. That had to be the hundredth time already that I’d made that mistake in my head. By this point, I didn’t even know why their minds switching bodies was a surprise, Celestia knows it made more sense than some of the other things that had happened over the years and was far less disturbing, too.

I crossed to the enchanted cabinet in the corner and opened it, trying to put the whole situation out of my mind; I had work to do.

The cabinet itself was brilliant; my son had made it for me as a Fathers’ Day present. It had also been a school project, but I knew the thought was definitely still there. He’d made it to replace my old one that could only manage a single scroll, and he’d made a lot of improvements. It was divided in half, the left for outgoing mail, with a slot for each ship in my fleet, and the right for incoming mail from them.

There were three messages on the right. I penned the first couple responses quickly; each was a simple matter, but the third required more thought.

“Updraft!”

Less than a minute later, the normally lanky blue pegasus appeared at my door. He looked a bit more filled out than usual; that usually happened when we came into port.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Crystal Empire, Draconia, steel production, fashion, C.S.G.U. enrollment.”

Updraft nodded at each item then flew off to the main office. He was the sort of pony I liked, always ready to help with anything, whether it be lifting heavy cargo, hoisting the mainsail, watching for storms, or just fetching the news.

He returned with a bag of periodicals, pamphlets, and papers. He smiled as he said, “There you go, Captain.”

At my nod, he left quietly, and I made a mental note to give him a raise for the next quarter. Being the stallion in charge has its benefits, and so does being a happy worker.

I fanned out all the material Updraft had brought me and scanned through it, searching for patterns, connections, anything that would let me figure out where I needed that ship to go. I had a hunch, but it was months old; I needed the newest information.

I smirked. That sounded like something Rising would say.

I shook my head and delved back in, running through steel production trends and trying to predict what was going to come into vogue soon. That wasn’t something I usually did, but if I was right…

Glancing at the information on Draconia, I found the section about the wyrm colony at its southern edge. Yes, they were going to shed this year, just like huge snakes — huge snakes with the most valuable skin in the hemisphere.

And they would trade it for a relatively inexpensive shipment of crystal from the Crystal Empire, where it literally grew on trees, Celestia knows how.

Regardless, I needed to know I could sell it once I got a fair amount. I certainly didn’t want to store it or have to insure it. The rates would be astronomical. Not even the crews truly knew the full extent of what they carried back. I kept cargo that valuable on a need-to-know basis.

No, better to just sell it all and let it be the buyer’s problem and minimize my risk.

Looking through the fashion magazines, I only saw one or two outspoken voices from around Canterlot raised against dragon scale dresses. Everypony else was caught on the novelty of real leather that didn’t require an animal’s death.

Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns used it for more practical uses, like to protect against errant fire spells.

Meanwhile, the steel industry loved it too. Really, anywhere that had to protect ponies from high temperature did, but they were the biggest consumer. They ran an ad campaign that said, “Protects from fire like magic!”

I rolled my eyes at the memory. That’s what the slogan used to be, at any rate. Rising had seen it and nearly blew up. “It’s not like magic,” he had yelled. “It is magic!” Then he loudly explained exactly how to everypony in earshot. He even wrote an angry letter to the company. Not more than a month later, the slogan changed to “Protects from fire with magic!”

I’m still convinced he pulled some strings with the Guild.

At any rate, steel production was still rising sharply, so it looked like I knew my play — I just had to check my maps.

A pony in a smaller company would have binders of maps, but I had this fantastic enchanted table, any unicorn cartographer’s wet dream come true.

I fed some magic into it, and it came alive, displaying the oceans in all their glory, complete with little moving streams to indicate currents and trade winds. With a thought, the sections of interest to me highlighted, and I watched as the next few months of projections played out. A few smiling sea serpents crossed the path in the first week, but the next, a whole mess of angry ones took up residence right in the middle of the lane.

“Damn.”

If they could skirt the edges of the nest, they could still make good time, but the risk…

I wrote out the final set of orders and authorized them taking on some extra muscle. A pegasus or unicorn mercenary or two should be able to keep the crew safe. When I placed the letter into the appropriate slot, it disappeared in a flash of blue light.

With that last bit of business out of the way, I exercised what was probably the best privilege of being in charge: I set my own hours and headed home.

As I walked back through the city, I passed The Sweet Tooth again and then stopped, turning back to look at the smiling molars on its windows.

Should I warn them? No, I shook my head. Rising and Aileris had used their bond for more complicated things than a signature; everything would be fine. But still, it had been a while since I had last visited, and I never had on my own. Besides, I still had plenty of time to get home.

As I entered the shop, I saw there were three partons sitting at a table and the proprietor, a light purple pegasus, who said, “Hello, mister Guiding Star! It has been some time, hasn’t it?”

“A few months, I think, Amara—” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that all three other patrons were sitting on their tails in exactly the way a pony wouldn’t.

“A few months, Ixil,” I said, reevaluating.

She sat back and tilted her head, crossing her forelegs over her barrel. “How are you so certain we are alone, I wonder.”

“Well,” I said, “you just confirmed it, but those three aren’t sitting right.”

She glanced at them and nodded, then a rapid series of shrieking trills and clicks that shouldn’t be possible for a pony to make came out of her mouth. The three shifted around to a more natural position as my ears unflattened.

“What did you say?”

Ixil frowned. “It doesn’t translate well into Equestrian, but something like, ‘Now, girls, what did I tell you about how you sit with your bottom pony parts? This outsider could tell what we are…’ The horror of that part doesn’t translate at all, by the way.”

She continued on. “Where was I? Ah. ‘But what if it had been an enemy?’”

I sat on the floor. “All that?”

“Yes, Equestrian is cumbersome. ‘Enemy’ and ‘outsider’ are only different from moderating inflection in Changeling.”

She looked outside then back to me. “I wonder why you are here alone. Do you actually want to buy some of our pastries? We could leave the mild aphrodisiacs out for you. Or” — she continued with a gleam in her eye — “do you want some with a higher dose?”

Aphrodisiacs? Was that really a part of their plan? That seemed desperate… and also understandable.

Still, she was waiting for my answer, and I suppose I would be a fool to turn down an opportunity to get the upper hoof on Squall — especially after seeing how she looked at me earlier. She was planning something for me.

Ixil smiled even before I could respond. Damn changeling ability to read emotions — it wasn’t fair at all.

“Yes, of course I do, and one without any in it. Smudge that one’s frosting. It’ll make her lose control quickly, correct?”

After a burst of noise to the back room, she turned back to me and said, “Yes, but she is a big mare. It will take some time to work.”

She looked away, wings flicking at her sides. She wanted to ask me something she didn’t think I’d like; I knew that look anywhere. Remembering what she looked like without her disguise, I found it almost funny that she could seem afraid of me or anything, really.

As the changeling from the back came out with a box, she turned to look at me. “I would ask for a favor. Let Ibal drink? She will only sip! The hive does not want to bite the hoof that feeds us, but the young…” She looked at the three sitting around the table. “They are not ready to go out and collect yet. They drain the hive for now.”

As far as I understood it, Ibal would have to be there… probably right outside the door if not in the room itself. But they needed help, and my wife would be absolutely furious if I didn’t do what I could. Tartarus, I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing I could have helped and hadn’t.

Squall must have really rubbed off on me.

Well, in a different way than she would later tonight.

“Alright, Ibal can come, but she has to lose the disguise. I won’t have her looking like that while she’s there,” I said, pointing to the apparently male body she wore. “That’s just not how I work.”

“Ibal can do this, yes yes. She will be very quiet,” Ixil said. “Please understand, I would not ask this normally. Skimming ponies on the street and who come to the shop is usually enough.”

“It’s alright. I understand, I think. You’ve never asked for anything like this before, so you must really be in some trouble.”

“My hive had to push the other changelings out of Baltimare, will have to keep them out too. The hive lost some changelings in the fight.”

Thinking back, I did recall a few disappearances being talked about in the papers recently. I guess I could stop wondering about them now.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” What else could I say?

“My hive will remember them because we are better than the other hives.” She paused for a moment. “We are better, yes yes.”

I nodded. “I have to agree with you. And I hope everything goes well for you.”

I really did. I’d always had a weakness for grand plans, especially ones with huge risks and rewards. Knowing you’d only succeeded through your wits, strength, and vision felt like nothing else.

Actually, it felt like exactly one other thing.

It was definitely time to head home. I inclined my head to Ixil, and she did the same to me. Picking up the box in her teeth, Ibal followed me out into the street. On the way, we passed the road to my son’s home, and I glanced over at it. It hadn’t burnt down, always a good sign.

Fifteen minutes’ walk later, we arrived, and I opened the door for Ibal. I figured that there was no reason why changelings wouldn’t also appreciate a little common courtesy. Also, I had finally gotten used to the fact that all changelings are girls even though they might look like stallions as this one did now.

As I followed her in, a wall of aromas hit me: onions, mushrooms, garlic, bay, and lentils. My nose twitched as I inhaled. Celestia, it smelled amazing; that stew had been, well, stewing since this morning. We ate incredibly well while ashore.

“Squall, I’m back!” I called out as I followed Ibal into the kitchen, her nose clearly having led her there.

She stood off to the side still holding the box in her teeth, and I motioned for her to put it on the counter. From upstairs, I heard a thump and the squeaking protestations of a wooden frame. Had Squall belly flopped onto our bed?

“And I brought back dessert and a guest!”

“Ooh!” A moment later, I heard the soft rustle of wings from the stairs, and then Squall Line appeared in the doorway.

Her green and black mane was rumpled, mouth turned up in a smirk, a gleam in her eyes, which were orange like the sky, but with just a hint of the red that’s either a sailor’s warning or delight. To me, they were one and the same. I’d like to see any stallion try to say that a mare can’t look good at forty-nine while my wife was in the room — mostly because it would be fun to watch her beat him to a pulp, but also because they’d clearly be lying. I certainly wasn’t drooling from the stew anymore.

“And who is this fine-looking stallion you’ve brought home, Guiding?”

I cleared my throat. “Dear, this is Ibal. Ibal, I’m sure you’ve heard of Squall Line.”

She nodded as green fire raced from her ears to her hooves, revealing the glossy black chitin of her real form.

“Well,” Squall said, “I would say to join us for supper, but I expect you’re already eating.”

“Just skimming, like the overspray of a river,” Ibal said, lowering her head.

While I set about doling the stew out for the two of us, my wife asked, “Ibal, why don’t you tell us about yourself while we eat? We don’t get many changelings who come over… at least I don’t think we do.”

As we started to eat, she told us a few basic details about herself. Very basic. I was reminded of what captured soldiers are supposed to give their captors. Though, her date of birth was interesting. Apparently a changeling matures a lot in about two-and-a-half years.

After about a minute of Ibal being silent, Squall poked her with a wing. “You’ve got to have interests, likes, friends, right?”

“Ibal is here for the hive to gather food, so that is what interests Ibal and what Ibal likes.”

I looked over at my wife. “I think she’s still… developing. Ixil certainly has more, well, personality.”

“This is Ibal’s first important task. Queen Ixil says that this will largely determine who Ibal becomes. Your emotions will shape Ibal. This is ‘growing up.’”

“Hmm…” Squall tapped her chin. “It looks like we’re going to be raising another foal.”

Seeing my wife’s glass was empty, I levitated it over to the sink and filled it for her then brought it back. She smiled at me like always. It’s amazing, sometimes, how much the simple manners any unicorn learns at a young age pay off. Nopony likes having to carry things around in their hooves if they can help it, so things like that are easy points for a unicorn.

Squall looked down into her empty bowl then back up to Ibal. “How was your meal?”

“Your love is like a river of honey; it is old and sweet and powerful. But it doesn’t throw off much of itself for Ibal. If Ibal took from it, the hive would be full already, but Ibal does not take. Ixil’s hive does not take. This was the appetizer. Ibal is waiting for the main course to bring back to the hive.”

“Well, that’s a poetic way of putting it,” Squall said.

Ibal shrugged, and I wondered what it was like behind those featureless eyes. Every pony imagines himself as another tribe at some point — Celestia knows I’ve had nights I wished I could fly with my wife — but the mentality of the changelings seemed so… alien.

I cleared that from my mind as I cleared away our bowls, placing them in the sink, and brought over my secret weapon. I opened the pastry box and glanced in. There were two eclairs inside, one of which had a smudge on its glaze. I levitated the other one to Squall, trying to keep from smiling.

She took it then, locking eyes with me, pressed it to her lips and slid it into her mouth. I felt mine suddenly go dry. Starting already? That was fighting dirty. But look who’s talking.

She bit off about half and offered me the rest. I froze. That wasn’t supposed to happen — she was huge and had the metabolism of, well, a pegasus; she always ate everything.

Somehow, she knew.

She swallowed and said, “Go on, Guiding. It’s good.”

I took a bite from it, hoping that it was small enough not to affect me too much. Then, she smirked at me and motioned with the rest of it. I tried to remain impassive as I took it from her and finished it off.

Well, that was just going to add to the challenge, I suppose. Already, Ibal was fading into the background of my mind. The mare in front of me thought she could win this battle of wills? Not if I had any say in it.

We both stood at the same time, then she leapt into the air just as I expected she would. Passing over the table, she pressed her lips against mine and drove me back a step. I responded by slipping my tongue between her lips and across her teeth. She didn’t want to give me an easy opening, it seemed. A quick poke to her chest made her gasp, and I pressed forward, driving her back through the air and my tongue into her mouth.

After a few moments of stalemate, we broke apart, Squall staring down at me with a smirk. “Upstairs?”

“Yes. Now.”

Author's Note

Thanks to my editors: SaiKimura and Midnight Spark.