“I spoke with Professor Veracity upon my arrival. She informed me that a workgroup of post-graduate unicorns in her department have altered a gem-seeking spell to instead allow ferrous metals to be sensate through soil.
“Her excitement was tempered with disappointment: by accounts, being geomancy, the spell is extremely difficult to sustain, and a unicorn who would cast it at all must, as evidenced through control and trial, have at least one earth-pony parent. The genealogical constraint has no doubt inflamed some latent prejudices in the department, and I suspect now that my involvement in this matter was received grudgingly at best.
“I am nonetheless in bond to assist the conduction of energies between the earth of the site and the alicorn of my colleagues. Veracity seems to harry herself, even now; I hope it remains true and powerful discovery in the name of academia that she lusts after, and not the iron itself.”
—Dulcimer Heartstrings
Instructions flew fast and fluid from the mouth of Trick Shot, unicorn Captain of the Royal Guard, as he strode towards the throne room from the main entrance to the palace. Behind him trailed an entourage of non-commissioned officers and messengers, pegasi and earth ponies alike, who had followed him from the barracks to help deliver the orders of the day.
Being in a unique billet, Captain Trick Shot was afforded the privilege of keeping his personal coat and mane color while on duty, along with the characteristic armor of his position, a brass cuirass and galea enameled in purple. It helped set him apart from the other officers he might be around, which made it all the easier for the changeling spy in his midst to keep tabs on him.
“Six watchers on the southwest wall, monitoring air traffic to and from Ponyville, Corporal Spearhead,” he said to one pegasus, not once slowing as he spoke. His pace was brisk, but not hurried. Trick Shot then turned to an earth pony. “Sergeant Parapet, please ask the Sanctum guards to double up on points of possible breach such as windows and skylights. If they have to thin the watch on private doors, have them ensure they are to rooms which use no exterior walls.”
“Yes sir,” said Parapet before galloping off.
The utter uniformity of the guards’ white coats and blue manes, enforced by the illusory magic of the armor they wore, provided the perfect cover for the spy to appear all but interchangeable with the pony next to it. Being near the back of the formation, it did not much worry about getting discovered, either.
“Be advised, all of you,” continued Trick Shot, “that we’re heightening operational security until further notice. Non-staff will absolutely not be allowed on the palace grounds—much less in the palace—until the Imperial Family has departed. One espionage incident was one too many. Nopony is to be left alone, either. These changelings are slick bastards. If you see a guardspony alone, or not at his or her post, confront them.”
The spy already had a plan for that. It waited until nopony was looking its way, then slipped silently into a side corridor while the small group of soldiers walked on. After a quick look behind it, a dim shimmer of light encased it from head to hoof, transforming the burly guardspony stallion back into its default form, then immediately into the guise of a young earth-pony mare, complete with a black maid’s uniform.
Now all it had to do was find a feather duster and start poking around the guest rooms under the pretense of tidying up.
* * *
Inspire frowned over the list of mages she had compiled as candidates for the Mirror Matrix spell. No fewer than six would be needed at any one time, and a fully-rested unicorn who had passed her mage’s exam and matrix-spell certification could be expected to keep her share of the matrix up for four hours before the risk of magic-fatigue became too great. Assuming eight hours’ rest, she would need eighteen mage-tier unicorns at a minimum, and that was also assuming there were no problems with fatigue, illness, or injury which would cause somepony to be unable to fulfill his or her duties. Those eighteen unicorns would also need to be fed and have a place to sleep, all in a convoy that would itself not be stopping for any reason for five straight days.
She groaned and let her magic field dissipate, the quill it had been holding dropping neatly back into its inkwell. It looked possible on paper, but she had only ten mages who stood a chance of being able to get away from lecturing or research. The rest of the roster was full of those who either weren’t certified for matrix-type spells, those who were away on fieldwork, or those otherwise spoken for. Even if she did have the bare minimum, Inspire was far from confident that no practical issues would spring up to throw the whole operation out of whack.
The archmage was about to start going through her roster for highly-certified practitioner-tier unicorns when a rapid knock at the door to her study startled her out of her concentration. She straightened herself up at her desk, trying to look as though she hadn’t just crawled out of a pit of gloom, and called out “It’s open!”
The round wooden door glowed purple, and after it swung open, Inspire was pleased to see Princess Twilight Sparkle standing on the other side. The lavender alicorn was beaming.
“Professor Inspire!” squealed Twilight, rearing up in celebration and running full-tilt into the room.
“Your Highness, so good to se—oof!”
Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, had wrapped her former instructor up in a bone-crushing hug, nearly lifting her off the floor in the process.
“Oh, come on now, professor,” said Twilight while Inspire gasped for air, “What’s this ‘Your Highness’ stuff? I’ll always be just ‘Twilight’ to you, you know that!” She pulled away and saw what she had done. Her ears drooped and she began to blush. “Oh. Eh-heh. S-sorry about that!”
“No… problem,” wheezed Inspire as she got her hooves back underneath her and her glasses straightened out, “but you know… I’m not really a professor anymore, Twilight, so you can just call me—”
“Archmage! That’s right!” squealed Twilight, rearing up to clap her forehooves together. “Congratulations! Oh, I was so happy for you when I heard the news! Well, I can think of nopony who deserves it more. At this point you probably have more spells memorized than Starswirl himself did!”
“Well, I was going to say you can just call me ‘Inspire’ now,” said the older unicorn with an awkward chuckle. “I guess we’ve all had some pretty big changes come through in the past couple of years, huh?”
“You can say that again!” said Twilight, grinning fit to burst as she rolled her eyes. “Oh, it’s so great to be back here! Back in the palace, studying away on an honest-to-goodness cryptozoological find, with you and Cadance and Shiny and Princess Celestia and my brand new niece here with me! What a wonderful time this is!”
Inspire licked her lips, her brow knitting. Twilight had always been energetic when it came to research, but she seemed a little too upbeat, given the overarching reason she was here. “Er, Twilight?”
“Yes, profe—uh, Inspire?”
The unicorn mare leaned forward slightly, a foreleg lifting from the floor. “Did… anypony actually tell you why we need your help in studying humans?”
Twilight shrugged with her wings. “Not really,” she said, “I just got a letter from Princess Luna asking if I would be interested in helping learn about humans for an important project, and after making some… rather unpleasant noises, if Spike is to be believed, I replied with an emphatic ‘yes’ and made my way here immediately! I bet I almost beat the letter here!”
The archmage let out a breath and nodded to herself. So it’d have to be her who breaks the news to the princess. “Twilight… we caught a changeling spy in the palace shortly before your niece was born.”
Twilight’s good mood disappeared instantly. Her eyes widened and her ears folded back. “L… little Eirene?”
Inspire nodded. “The Royal Guard confirmed it was monitoring your brother’s and sister-in-law’s movements. After they discovered the spy, there was no way anypony was going to let Princess Cadance leave the safety of Canterlot. What was supposed to be a short visit turned into a month-long stay for both of them, and, well, your niece was just about due. I’m sorry we couldn’t have told you, Twilight, but we had to be careful about what got out. Now we have our backs up against the wall trying to figure out how to get the Imperial Family back to the Crystal Empire before this month’s dark moon arrives.”
“The train!” cried Twilight immediately. “Uh, air carriages…”
Insight shook her head while her former student trailed off. “A train’s route isn’t exactly difficult to guess at, and an air carriage would be extremely indefensible. Colonel Cumulus has it in his head that the way we caught the spy is also the way we can get Princess Eirene back home unharmed.”
Twilight cocked her head, looking confused, but realization came a moment later. “The human!” she said. “Something the human did revealed the spy!”
“That’s as I understand it,” said Inspire, “but Cumulus is who you should really be talking to regarding that. I’m… not really involved in the human project so much, so it won’t exactly be like old times for you and me, unfortunately.”
“Oh. I see.” A moment of silence passed, then: “Inspire, if you’re not on board to study humans, how are you involved with this problem?”
“Cumulus and I don’t see eye-to-eye on what the solution should be,” said Inspire. “We can conceal the natural love radiating from Cadance, your brother, and Eirene behind a Mirror Matrix. That’s what I think, anyway. It’s an inhibitive spell, one that would keep them effectively invisible to the pheromone sensors that changelings use to seek out sources of love. Chrysalis has tasted it before, after all, and shared it with her hive, so her drones would know immediately when they’ve found the right one.”
Twilight Sparkle winced. “Ugh, a Mirror Matrix for a group of ponies on the move? Why, you’d need about...” She looked up, putting a hoof to her chin in thought.
Inspire held up a hoof. “A bare minimum of eighteen unicorns of no small talent in magic,” she said. “Believe me, I’ve been working on it.”
“Well, I volunteer!” said Twilight. “I want to help.”
“As do I,” said Inspire, “but we would still be short, even if Celestia and Luna could come along too, which of course they can’t. A lot of our best and brightest are too far away to get here in time to be useful. I’d have to find some of our more talented practitioner-level unicorns here around Canterlot and the university to even close the gap, at this point.
“I hate to say it, but I think Cumulus might have the advantage here.” Her head sank. Twilight Sparkle turned to look at her with one suspicious eye.
“Well… as long as whatever we wind up using works, right?” she offered. “I mean, that’s the important thing, after all. This isn’t… some kind of competition between you two, is it?”
Inspire’s eyes went wide and she waved a hoof in front of her face. “Pfft! No! Of course not!” she said with a nervous chuckle, walking back to her desk. “I just… think that humans are too…” She cleared her throat. “Well. They need more vetting first. For such an unfamiliar species, this is a rather sensitive thing to have them involved in, don’t you agree?”
“Well… yeah, but… that’s why I’m here!” replied Twilight, perking up a little again. “I’m going to see how un-unfamiliar we can get with each other in the time we have! Even if we can’t have them help us, we may at least have some new friends!”
Inspire chuckled, sitting down and picking her quill up with the red glow of her magic again. “You really are the Princess of Friendship, aren’t you, Twilight Sparkle.” she said with a shake of her head. “Best get to checking in with the others. I know your brother and his family are probably eager to see you!”
She heard a gasp and looked back to an empty doorway. Twilight Sparkle, the regal alicorn, was already busy galloping down the hallway, her cry of “Shineeeeeeeeeey” trailing off into the distance.
* * *
The balding Company man sitting across the desk from Nate wrote a number on a piece of paper and flicked it around to hold in front of him.
“This your social?” he asked.
It wasn’t. Nate said “No.”
The man smiled and balled the piece of paper up, setting it to one side. “Just checking to make sure we have the right guy.” He slid a manila folder to the center of the desk and flipped it open with a finger, then bent his head down to read silently for a few moments.
Nate was sitting up straight in his hard plastic chair. The room had no details to take in; it was starkly, clinically, squintingly, painfully white, the walls and floor blazing beneath powerful strips of LEDs retrofit into fluorescent housings up above. Even his chair was white, he noted. He eyed the manila folder and kept a corner of his mouth from curling up. Uncle Sam had mastered environmentally-conscious lighting, but was still having trouble with the paperless office, it seemed.
“Nathan… Harris,” said the man at last, as though the name was news to him. He lifted his eyes slightly to look at Nate. “Is that you?”
“It is, yes,” replied Nate. The middle-aged man turned the page over to look at the one beneath it. “Pathfinder, Silver Star recipient, put in work with us in Yemen, Indonesia… and other places, I imagine.” He looked up. “You have a solid service record here, Mr. Harris. I imagine the complete one must be downright impressive.”
“That is the complete one,” said Nate.
The man smiled back. “Sure it is,” he said. He closed the folder and folded his hands, leaning forward on his desk.
“There’s just one thing we’re really concerned about, and that’s what you’ve been up to since getting out.”
“Well, I haven’t been up to much at all,” said Nate.
“Exactly,” said the man. “What happened? Alcohol? Drug abuse?”
Nate pursed his lips, then shrugged. “I guess I’m just lazy,” he said. The two shared another small smile.
“Well, the urinalysis should take care of that question anyway,” said the man. “That aside, we don’t need you at a hundred percent for our purposes.”
“Your runner said there would be details,” said Nate.
The man sucked on a tooth before answering. “The details are on the other side of the dotted line, Mr. Harris. You should have figured that out as soon as you walked into this room. I can at least confirm that he wasn’t bullshitting you over the pay.”
Nate let out a breath. That meant he had to volunteer for duty before knowing what that duty was. The arrangement wasn’t unheard of with the CIA, but normally they didn’t hold outside talent to it. Hell, he hadn’t even left Portland yet.
“From here,” added the man, “you either give me a signature, or we show you out so you can get back to your nap. What’s it gonna be?”
* * *
Shining Armor, Consort to Her Imperial Highness and new father, was on his knees.
“Cadie, please let me use Shell of Surety,” the white unicorn stallion begged his wife from her bedside. “This whole changeling stuff could be a non-issue!”
Princess Cadance, Goddess of Love and ruler of the Crystal Empire, looked at her husband with patient firmness. The pink-coated alicorn was recumbent on the covered bed in their opulent guest suite, and cradled in her forehooves was Eirene. The tiny powder-blue goddess of peace was asleep, swaddled in warm flannel, her mother’s heartbeat next to her ears. The two of them seemed to float in the sunlight streaming through the nearby window.
“My aunties do not want Canterlot to panic upon seeing that huge bubble go up again,” she replied keeping her voice low, “and besides, we’re supposed to be resting and leaving it up to them, remember?”
His ears drooped. Cadance reached out and stroked his jaw with her free hoof.
“You’re not Captain of the Guard anymore, Shiney,” she whispered, smiling at him. “The torch has been passed.”
“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do anything, though, right?” he asked her.
Before Cadance could answer, a familiar voice from behind them whispered out “Helloooo!”
The two ponies looked towards the door to see Twilight Sparkle standing nearby, hunched down and rump wiggling like a cat’s, ready to pounce on her big brother. As soon as Shining Armor had turned completely around, Twilight tackled him, knocking him to the carpet.
The siblings wrestled silently while Cadance looked on, smiling. Finally, the two got to their hooves and straightened out their manes.
“Twiley!” said Shining Armor in a hushed voice. “When did you get in?”
“Just a little while ago,” replied Twilight. She looked past her brother to the bundle resting against her sister-in-law. “She’s asleep, isn’t she?”
Cadance nodded. “She’s already so peaceful!” she whispered. Twilight grinned.
“Did your friends come too?” asked Shining as he and Twilight stepped farther away from Eirene to converse.
“They’re on the train,” said Twilight. “You know when the princesses summon me, you can’t keep them away for long!”
Shining’s eyes darted back to his wife and foal. “I’ve gotta admit, Twiley, I’m a bit nervous,” he said. “There’s some sort of… changeling revenge plot going down, and Cadance won’t let me help secure the palace!”
“Think of it this way,” said Twilight, putting a hoof on his shoulder, “Shell of Surety is a barrier spell, right? It makes a big glowing bubble around something you want to protect. Inspire told me about the spy that was caught. If there are more, they’ll be waiting for a sign that you’re leaving, and what better sign than a gigantic bubble suddenly disappearing from around a palace?
“Also, if Queen Chrysalis knows you’re here but is still just sending spies, then she must not have enough changelings to pull the same full-frontal assault she did last time. That means, while you’re in the palace, you’re safe.”
Twilight Sparkle looked at the door. “And right now, everypony’s working on plans that’ll keep you safe out there, too.”
* * *
Imago looked down her muzzle at the changeling scout that had just landed before her. Canterlot was at the scout’s back, on the far mountain range, its spires flashing in the sun even from that distance. Ponyville sat in the valley between them and the city, teeming with love she could smell, but had no appetite for yet.
“Speak,” she said.
The scout danced out its message to her: spy-capture-pony-wary-newweapon-rumor.
Her slitted green eyes flicked back up to narrow at the glittering city. After a few moments considering courses of action, she looked back at the scout. “How many spies are in the palace right now?”
two-active-one-dungeon, danced the changeling.
“It will have to do,” said Imago with a sneer. “Return to the hive and gather whatever forces mother is willing to allot me. Bring them straight to me; do not take them to the palace. Go!”
It was perhaps her imagination, but to Imago it seemed that the drone hesitated before flying off. She considered the possibility that the drones didn’t see her as having legitimate authority over them. Well, things would be different once she was a full queen and had a hive of her own. She turned her gaze back to Canterlot.
The report of a “newweapon-rumor” concerned her somewhat. It would explain the ponies’ boldness in not putting up the same barrier spell her mother had had to contend with, but apparently little was known about it even amongst those in the palace. With a spy captured, they were aware of each other, that much was certain. Now, however, she had lost the initiative and become the reacting force rather than the acting one. In the time it would take a spy to slip out without being caught, fly to her, and report, it would be a chase at best… with the forces of both Canterlot and the Crystal Empire closing in on them. Not to mention whatever the weapon turned out to be.
If only that damn spy hadn’t been discovered! There were no better masters of disguise than changelings; even Chrysalis herself had fooled that one stallion for weeks, thinking she was his fiancée! How had they done it? How had they seen through?
She sighed and sat on her haunches. It felt as though the window was closing, but perhaps the best thing she could do—even with her forces—was wait.
They couldn’t stay in there forever, after all.
“Professor Veracity dispatched a telegram to me sometime in the night. As it was delivered to me during breakfast, I surmised the matter to be of some urgency, though the message itself was laconic and devoid of any appeals beyond the personal; she would say only that she wished me back at the university to act as the earth-pony consult on an impending excavatory venture in the Badlands.
“I am loath to suspend my recordings of poison-joak growth patterns in the Everfree Forest; however, my application for tenure is on review, and Veracity’s favor may prove fruitful when I stand before the board of deans. I shall depart Ponyville for Canterlot tomorrow, and log what I might in this journal.”
—Dulcimer Heartstrings
The sun was setting in Equestria, the world of ponies.
Inspire, Archmage of Canterlot, sighed and shut the door to the palace library behind her, placing the key in her tweed vest with her magical manipulation field. The middle-aged unicorn’s coat had faded slightly to the color of eggshells over the years, but her mane was as silvery-gray as it had ever been, and her magic’s light still retained the vibrant red hue of her youth.
She frowned up at the ugly ragged book hovering above her head, also encased in a red glow, the Codex of Inhibitive and Other Meta-Magicks. The great heavy thing’s table of contents and indices had proven not nearly granular enough for easy reference, and as the last of daylight had burned away, Inspire had realized that she was in for a good old-fashioned all-nighter. She snorted at the thought of what was ahead of her: a nostalgic experience from her university days that she would have just as soon left twenty years in the past where it belonged.
She plodded along the corridors of the royal palace, trying to keep her eyes up from the wine-red runner carpets that lined the marble floors to keep hooves from echoing through the place at all hours of the day and night. Already busy mourning the upcoming night’s sleep, she didn’t notice another pony’s armored chest in her way until her muzzle bumped into it.
“Ow!” she cried, her magic dissipating with the distraction, leaving the Codex to fall onto her back and then bounce onto the floor. Her eyes fell first on the pearlescent sphere in the center of the brass cuirass, denoting the wearer’s rank of colonel. She then snapped her face up to glare at the pegasus stallion blocking her way while raising a hoof to re-straighten the large round-framed glasses perched on her nose.
It could only have been him, and, of course, that’s precisely who it was.
The white pony grinned an easy grin and gave a little nod of his head. “Archmage,” he said.
“Cumulus,” she replied, trying to keep her tone chilly.
Colonel Cumulus leaned very slightly to one side and eyed the book on the floor for a moment before looking back to Inspire. “Taking some light reading home with you?” he asked.
“Light for me, perhaps,” she sniffed, plucking the book from the floor with her magic and holding it out of leg’s reach, the front cover and spine rather deliberately positioned to face away from the guardspony. “I doubt you could pronounce half the words in there.”
“Well, you know what they say,” joked Cumulus as Inspire walked past him, “‘Fake it ‘til you make it!’”
“Yes, that was certainly your philosophy back in college, as I recall,” she said over her shoulder. She had meant it as a parting shot, but Colonel Cumulus trotted to catch up with her and then fell into step next to her.
“I know what you’re doing, Innie,” Cumulus told her, the easygoing tone fading from his voice a bit. “Codex of Inhibitive and Other Meta-Magicks? You’re still angling to talk Princess Celestia out of my idea.”
“You were able to read the cover in the time it took me to pick it up; good for you. Now I suppose all that concentration has got you needing a lie-down, so why don’t y—”
“It’s happening,” he said. “This is happening, Innie, and as much as you might not like it, it’ll work out just fine.”
“Not if I find an alternative first,” she snapped. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Cumulus: you’re railroading Her Royal Highness into blessing off on this venture, all on nothing more than the very preliminary tests we’ve run on the human we already have.”
“I think a human will be just the ticket,” replied Cumulus, “and a field test will tell us more in three days than a whole month of you and your eggheads pointing and prodding and squinting at one.”
“Better an egghead than a meathead,” she mumbled.
They passed by two dark-gray unicorns of the Sanctum guard, who froze to attention and threw smart salutes for Cumulus. The officer returned them while Inspire grumbled under her breath.
“And ‘one’ is apparently not enough,” she said once the guards were out of earshot. “What if a male is brought through? What if they start breeding?”
“Breeding?” Cumulus gave a single, mocking laugh. “Give me a break! They’re not hamsters, for crying out loud!” He booped her shoulder with a brass-shod hoof. “Of course, you’d know that if you’d spent more than five minutes looking at her from across the room, maybe talked to her at all!”
Inspire didn’t want to meet his eyes at that remark, as the fact behind it was true enough. “It’s… different for unicorns,” she murmured at last. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Cumulus opened his mouth as though he were going to refute that, but then just sighed instead. “Be that as it may, I see this as a marvelous and timely gift,” he said, looking straight ahead as they walked past the doors to the banquet hall. “Can you imagine what sort of situation we’d be in right now if the Fissure had opened up in griffin territory? In changeling territory?” He shuddered, the feathers on his wings fluffing up slightly. “We’d be foals not to take advantage of this.”
“I’m not saying this can’t be beneficial to ponykind, just that we’re moving too fast,” said Inspire. “We don’t know the full scope of… whatever it is that’s going on with them, nor the long-term ramifications of it.”
She stopped in front of the door to her chamber and gave Cumulus a side-eye from behind her glasses. “Well, this is me. I’m looking forward to exposing the rashness and idiocy of your plan tomorrow at Dawn Court, colonel.”
“And I’m looking forward to watching you flounder against the current, archmage,” he replied. The two both tried unsuccessfully to suppress a small smile before Inspire opened the door and slid into her room, then closing the door behind her.
Colonel Cumulus looked around him, confirmed there were no ponies to witness him, and then let out a long, broad yawn. He smacked his lips when done and gave the thick wooden door a fresh grin before marching off to get some rest.
He knew what was up. Inspire going into her room with a book that size could only mean one thing: of the two of them, he’d be the only one getting any rack time tonight.
* * *
Queen Chrysalis scowled down at the egg sac beneath her. The back half of her body had metamorphosed into a vast, bulbous whiteness which gleamed a feeble green under the ambient light of her hive’s grotto, and she was atop it, rendered immobile by her own biology. She pressed a black, chitinous hoof down into the softness, watching it yield so very easily under the slightest pressure. She couldn’t feel it; there were no nerves which ran down into the sac itself, and for that small blessing she was grateful. However, by her own admission she was now a massive, ugly thing, grown so large she would not have been able to fit back out through the cave entrance—even if she could have moved under her own power.
She floated in place on a broad but very shallow pond of still water which had collected over the eons from the stalactites above. Now, it was her birthing table, a soft touchdown for the eggs which marched out through the hopper of her body, one by one, until her reserves of love-energy were spent and the sac rotted off like so much uncirculated flesh.
A drone changeling flitted up before her and kept a respectful distance, gossamer wings buzzing almost invisibly fast, bowing its head as it proffered a sphere of royal jelly to its queen.
Chrysalis narrowed her eyes, her vaguely pony-like ears pulling back on her head. “Begone!” she shouted, causing the drone to wince and pull back a little. Had it been within leg’s reach, she would have swatted the jelly out of her servant’s hooves in a satisfying bit of theatrics. “My daughter will be here soon; am I to speak to her through mouthfuls of that vile glop?”
“I am already here, mother.”
Queen Chrysalis forgot immediately about the drone as she turned and twisted as much as she might to look around for the source of the young feminine voice. “Imago!” she growled. “Move to where I can see you, stupid girl!”
Imago lifted up just past the horizon of Chrysalis’s egg sac. The changeling sub-queen crossed her forelegs, and a smug smile appeared on her face as she locked eyes with her mother. “Is this better?”
A brief pang of envy lanced through Chrysalis as she saw Imago hover there. She was tall and slender, her flawless carapace not yet eaten through with the hunger for love and positive emotions. Her horn and wings were also whole, her mane the deep sky blue of Princess Cadance’s magic, which was no coincidence. Her crown-stalks numbered only two, but the time had come to change that.
As though the sub-queen could sense her mother’s misery, she flashed her short fangs in a grin. “I’d say you’re about the size of three houses now! Shining Armor’s love must have been filling indeed.”
“You! Mind your tongue, missy, because if you ever want a hive of your own, you’ll have to go through exactly the same kind of torturous—”
Queen Chrysalis’s muscles went weak as a rush of warm, electric pleasure washed up through her, and an instant later she heard the distant splash of an egg falling into the pond beneath her. She shuddered involuntarily in the slight afterglow, resuming her sour expression as soon as she could.
“Torturous indeed, mother!” giggled Imago. “Lazing about, being waited on hoof and hoof, getting a cheap thrill three or four times per day? My heart bleeds for you!”
“Enough.”
“Do you realize your eyes rolled back into your head just now? It was positively shameless—”
“Enough!” Chrysalis’s shout echoed through the grotto, warping and fracturing it into the voice of something even uglier. They both waited until the echo passed. Imago hovered where she was, forelegs still folded, waiting silently. The changeling queen squared her shoulders, sitting up as straight and regal as she might on her own unsightly, grotesque body.
“The pony princess Cadance has given birth,” she said. “In Canterlot.”
Imago arched an eyebrow. “You want me to dine there?” she asked.
“Let me finish, girl!” hissed Chrysalis. “My forces as they are now are far too small to present a threat to either Canterlot’s or the Crystal Empire’s garrison. However, the foal and her parents will have to return to the Crystal Empire at some point to resume their royal duties there. You will have to take the child’s love during that journey, when they are removed from the full support of their army.”
Imago looked at the egg sac beneath her, curling her lip in disgust. “Why not just wait until you’ve pushed out a new army of your own?”
“Because this is for your hive, not mine!” said Chrysalis. She was doing her best to keep from raising her voice once more, but oh, this spoiled brat with her incessant questioning of every little thing just tried her patience so much! “You’re lucky I’m allowing you to use some of my drones at all! If you want a third stalk to sprout from that thick head of yours and be able to start your own hive, you will have to siphon some familial love for yourself! Then, shortly after that, you’ll understand what it’s truly like to become…” she gestured down at her own enormous self. “...this for six months at a time!”
“I can’t wait,” deadpanned Imago.
“Neither can I,” said Chrysalis. “The sooner you’re off on your own and out of my mane, the sooner I can get back to my own priorities.”
“Hmm, yes, all the self-pity,” said Imago. “Sorry for putting such a damper on that.”
There was silence between them, then Imago clucked her tongue.
“Ugh. It’s too humid in here. I’m going out.” She turned and started to fly away.
“You’ll learn!” called Chrysalis after her. “Only too late will you learn what it means to be a changeling queen!”
There was no reply. Imago was gone. Queen Chrysalis flopped down onto her belly, forelegs splayed out, sinking down slightly into the disgusting and shifting softness of her egg sac. She let out a long, lonely sigh, and waited for a drone to return with more royal jelly.
* * *
Inspire was busy rubbing her eyes with a pastern when she heard the doors to the throne room open before her. She quickly snapped her hoof back down and straightened out the hated Codex floating in the magical cloud above her head, fearful that the loose crowd of nobility and aristocracy on the other side would see the Archmage of Canterlot picking sleep-sand out of her eyes.
She needn’t have worried; the throne room was empty, save for the guards on the other side of the grand double doors and Vibrant Vase, who was walking through the threshold to meet her. The red earth-pony mare was dressed in a tailed suit jacket with a yellow carnation in the lapel, signifying her role as daytime palace chamberlain.
“Your Eminence,” she said with a bow, “Their Royal Highnesses have adjourned the Dawn Court early and will take your audience in Princess Luna’s study.”
Inspire let out a quiet grumble and straightened her glasses, looking down at the bulky and hot mage’s robe she’d worn that had suddenly become unneeded. The princesses themselves had little use for pageantry, but Canterlot’s toffee-nosed stuffed-shirts ate it up, so putting on one’s best for court was highly encouraged.
“Guess I’ll be on my way, then,” said Inspire, nodding to Vibrant Vase. “Thank you, chamberlain.”
The mare bowed again. “Your Eminence.”
Inspire turned to leave, and the Codex dutifully floated along beside her. She had—perversely—considered standing there for a moment, testing to see whether or not the chamberlain turned her back first. Deep down, Inspire knew that wouldn’t have happened, and then she would have been left appearing as though she were reminding Vibrant Vase of their respective places in the royal hierarchy. Being appointed to such a dizzyingly high office had been a great honor, to be sure, but she could have done without all of the political and social baggage that came with it.
She stumbled once during her walk into the Sanctum. She could have done without the damn robes as well, she decided. She gave a furtive look around her to see if anypony had noticed, but there were only guards nearby. Easily spotted by their dark-gray armor, the Sanctum Guard consisted almost entirely of unicorns, with just a few pegasi and earth-ponies for runner and messenger duty. The Sanctum Guard’s most frequent duty was turning lost guests and overly-curious tourists back to the public areas, but they were still the elite of the already-selective Royal Guard, hoof-picked by the princesses on aptitude and service record. Inspire cleared her throat and nodded primly to the nearest guard standing post in the corridor.
The Sanctum was the princesses’ personal wing of the palace. It held their chambers, their studies, sleeping suites for close friends and honored guests, and a private archive of media too sensitive or rare to be kept in the main library. Being the archmage, Inspire had run of the palace, but she’d never gotten used to the mood of the Sanctum compared to the rest of the estate. It was a solemn place, and heavy upon one’s soul, like time held its breath there. She made her way to Princess Luna’s study, and before she could knock, the guards flanking either side of the door opened it with their magic, then stepped away.
Inspire groaned inwardly as she entered the room and approached her rulers. Colonel Cumulus was sitting on his haunches at the table to Princess Luna’s right, his crested helmet doffed and resting on the richly-carpeted floor next to him. The damn pegasus had buffed his brass armor so much that it was catching the dawn sunlight coming in through the single window and collecting it into dazzling white flashes of painful brilliance. Inspire suppressed the look she wanted to make; her rival was clearly basking in the small victory of having arrived before her.
She stopped at the nearest edge of the table and bowed low, keeping the book completely still in the air with her magic. Keeping an object perfectly stationary while one’s own head moved was a display of considerable skill amongst unicorns—the younger generations didn’t put as much effort into demonstrating such things, and thus few ever bothered practicing it, but Inspire figured it couldn’t hurt to remind her princesses why they had chosen her for archmage.
“Please rise, Inspire,” said Princess Celestia, closing the door behind the unicorn with the soft golden glow of her magic.
Her Royal Highness Celestia, Princess of Equestria, Goddess of the Sun, had a coat of purest white, with grand wings on her back and a horn on her head, standing nearly twice as tall as the average pony. Her voluminous mane shifted and waved slowly in a nonexistent breeze, a spectrum of pastel colors glowing out from it and illuminating her face slightly. Inspire was met with the princess’s gentle, motherly smile as she raised her eyes to look at her. She had seen the face hundreds of times before, but each time she saw that smile and looked into those eyes, it felt as though she were looking upon the sun’s keeper as she had as a filly, for the very first time.
“Your Highnesses,” said Inspire, nodding to both Celestia and her younger sister Luna, Goddess of the Moon. Luna was seated to Celestia’s right, slightly smaller of stature than her older sister but no less regal. Her coat was the color of a deepening night sky, not yet black but far from sunset. A magical nighttime firmament shone in her mane, twinkling and glittering a tableau of constellations as it too fluttered in slow motion behind her.
“Please, be seated,” said Luna, not breaking eye contact with Inspire. Luna’s blue eyes had a latent coldness to them that Celestia’s utterly lacked, and beneath her gaze Inspire certainly felt small, but without the wonder and awe of fillyhood to go with it. The eggshell unicorn walked around the table (careful not to let her bulky, unwieldy robes trip her up again) and sat on the cushion next to Cumulus.
“We have made the final hearing of today’s Dawn Court a matter of confidence,” Luna told them, “as it pertains to matters still quite sensitive.”
“And we are short on time, I understand,” said Inspire. Princess Celestia, ever the serene one, busied herself setting out tea and cakes with her magic while her sister spoke with the advisors.
Princess Luna nodded as a saucer slid into place at her spot at the table, glowing with Celestia’s magic . “My next dark moon is in two weeks’ time,” she said. “Would that I could, but I cannot delay it, or there would be catastrophic repercussions to the natural world.”
Inspire bit her lip and looked down at her own teacup while Celestia poured. The princess was right, unfortunately. Why, upsetting and correcting the tides alone would result in millions of—
“With that in mind,” said Colonel Cumulus, interrupting Inspire’s thoughts, “if we wait much longer, Your Royal Highnesses, only an air convoy would be expedient enough to get Princess Eirene back to the Crystal Empire in time.” He shook his head. “That’s far, far too risky when you’re talking about a threat like this.”
“I agree,” said Celestia. “Unicorns and earth-ponies are essential in defending against changelings, so Luna and I have decided on a ground procession unless we are absolutely out of time. It is my hope that you two have devised a course of action to that end.”
Inspire looked over her teacup at Cumulus, who was looking right back at her. Damn, but his broad, chiseled face could be hard to read when it suited him. Regardless, the time had come. She turned her attention back to her tea, prolonging the sip, signaling to Cumulus that he should go first.
Military pony that he was, Colonel Cumulus cut right to the meat of it. “Your Royal Highnesses,” he said, placing a forehoof on the table, “I propose we use a human—discreetly—in Princess Eirene’s escort detail, all the way up until the point where she can attune to the Crystal Heart.”
Despite all their regality and poise, Inspire could see that the princesses were having a difficult time avoiding telegraphing their surprise. Surely their senior military advisor hadn’t been serious when he’d first expressed interest in exploring the possibility of the application of humans! She couldn’t really blame them; hay, if she herself hadn’t known about it beforehoof, she probably would have sent her tea across the table in a spit-take.
“That’s… well and truly your suggestion, colonel?” asked Princess Luna in as diplomatic a question as could probably have been made. The two princesses looked to each other in the same moment.
“I… should hope you have details behind it, Cumulus,” said Princess Celestia slowly, at last turning back to her two guests. “But first, let us hear out Archmage Inspire as well.”
Using her magic, Inspire set her teacup down on the saucer so gently that it did not even make a clack. As she stood, she did her very best to keep from pulling a smug face—that oaf Cumulus had been a bit too blunt and brief in his pitch. Now all she, as archmage, had to do was provide the alternative that Their Royal Highnesses would clearly be more comfortable with.
“Princess Celestia, Princess Luna,” began Inspire, “I propose, in contest to Colonel Cumulus’s idea, that we have a cadre of mage-tier unicorns envelop the royal escort convoy in the Mirror Matrix spell. That way, the unsuppressable love between Princess Cadance and her daughter will not attract the senses of any changeling anywhere, no matter the distance.”
One of her ears swiveled at the sound of Cumulus’s sigh. “The trip is five days on hoof, Your Eminence,” he said, “and any spell in a matrix configuration requires multiple unicorns working in sync to maintain. I also understand it’s very draining, as spells go?”
“Which is why I said a cadre, colonel,” replied Inspire, trying hard to keep the edge out of her voice. She had to admit to herself that she was impressed the pegasus knew even that much about unicorn magic.
“So shift work, then,” Cumulus shot back, “which would bloat the convoy, thus increasing the profile of the operation to dangerous levels. Unless, Your Eminence, you were suggesting the same several unicorns keep up a mage-tier spell for five straight days without food or rest.”
Inspire felt her ears flatten to her head, and it was in that moment that Princess Celestia cut in, to her relief.
“There is no reason, at this moment, that we cannot begin preparations to use both suggestions,” she said, looking from one pony to the other and back again as she spoke. “Five days’ travel with one day as a buffer leaves us a little over a week to see which course of action develops into the most prudent one. Whichever way we take, please know that I deeply appreciate the attention and concern both of you have given the matter. Luna and I are lucky to have ponies like you two in our court.”
“Ms. Cooper has informed me she is ready to bring in candidates… to then be screened, of course,” said Colonel Cumulus to the princesses. Inspire took another sip of her tea.
“However,” he added, turning to Inspire, “I would request of Her Eminence the Archmage, if not her personal attention, then at least a small study group of trusted mages help me and the humans explore effective applications of their abilities.” He gave her a warm smile, and Inspire hated him for that. She struggled to return the smile, silently agreeing with Cumulus to put on a show for the benefit of the two alicorns watching them.
“Oh-ho-ho, but colonel,” said Inspire through closed eyes and lightly gritted teeth, setting down her teacup, “I will be far too busy allocating and training mages for the task of sustaining a continuous spell through shifts! I would dearly love to assist you in your human research, you understand, but I’m afraid I can only be in one place at a time!”
Princess Luna dismissed the notion with a wave of her silver-shod hoof. “Worry you not, goodly Cumulus,” she said, slipping into the rather stilted speech patterns of yesteryear, “I am certain Princess Twilight Sparkle would be willing to assist you personally in the inspection and research of this new race. I’faith, I could not well conjure a scenario where she could be kept away! ‘Twill free the archmage to make preparations to her own ends. We must all pull the weight we have, must we not?”
Princess Celestia giggled behind a gold-shod hoof and leaned over to stage-whisper to her sister “I believe the expression goes ‘pull our own weight,’ Lulu.”
Luna sputtered and blushed, suddenly unable to meet eyes with the ponies across the table from her. “Th-the meaning has been conveyed, regardless!” she protested quietly. “Small fortune, then, can I claim, that I have not as much weight to pull as some ponies at this table!” Celestia only giggled harder at that.
Inspire’s smile turned genuine despite herself, but she saw that Cumulus’s fake smile was gone, leaving him to look only stone-faced and professional. Damn, but it was like flipping a switch with him!
Celestia spoke again after she and her sister had settled down a bit. “Then it’s settled, for now. Inspire, Cumulus, thank you for meeting with us. I will speak with Cadance and Shining Armor myself and bring them up to date with what has been suggested. I expect they will be by at their convenience to see what you’re up to. This is their foal we are striving to protect, after all.”
Colonel Cumulus stood, gathering up his helmet and clicking his rear brass shoes together. “I will have Ms. Cooper start locating candidates immediately, Your Royal Highnesses.”
“And I shall begin selecting unicorns to take part in the Mirror Matrix,” added Inspire. As she went to stand, she heard Luna groan.
“I am sudden made to pity mine ears!” she cried, those same ears drooping behind her black crown. “I just realized the noises our Princess of Friendship can make when she is told there are academic findings to be made! Mayhap I shall simply send a letter.”
They all laughed, save Luna. Inspire was glad to see that even Colonel Cumulus couldn’t keep a straight face at that.
* * *
A shoe nudged Nate’s shoulder, waking him. He had been dreaming of a rainbow crossing warm blue skies.
He rolled onto his back, feeling the sidewalk easily through his threadbare jacket and the dirty mashed cardboard he had been using as a mattress. He opened his eyes slowly to see a dour man in a gray pinstripe suit standing over him, backlit by a typically-overcast Portland sky.
“Mr. Harris,” stated the man, “We’d like to bring you in for some work.”
Nate wiped the sleep from his eyes and blinked a few times. The man wasn’t alone. Two more men were standing over him, taller and stockier than the one who had spoken, their black suit-jackets unbuttoned.
G-men. Nate was sure of it. One there to talk, two more along as muscle. They probably would have been wearing their sunglasses if it wouldn’t have been so conspicuous.
“It’s over,” said Nate, his voice cracking from not having spoken for so long. He cleared his throat, restoring the timbre. “I’m done with it all.”
“Six figures a year,” replied the G-man. Nate let out a breath and looked down at the ground. “Highly sensitive. Nobody currently on the payroll fits the profile.”
“Jesus,” he said, running a hand down his unshaven face. The cold of the concrete was starting to seep through the cardboard and his jeans. “You’re coming to me with six figures? All the other washups back in DC must’ve passed.”
Neither the lead G-man nor his muscle said anything for a moment, then: “Details are forthcoming at the office… not here.”
Nate looked up at them, squinting one eye against the cold breeze. “D’you even know the details?” he asked.
“No sir,” was the immediate reply. Nate cracked a smile despite himself. He had no problem believing that.
The faces changed, but not the system.
